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Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
What is true joy?
It's delight which flows without measure from the assurance
that through every circumstance and detail of my life
God is ever beckoning and drawing me into deeper intimacy
with Himself, ever whispering to my heart, “Come closer still.”
"You have made known to me the path of life; You will fill me with joy in Your presence, with eternal pleasures at Your right hand."  Psalm 16:11
DivineDao Nov 2016
Yin*Yang
=
Perpetuum Mobile
Dialectical Complementary
Opposites *Eternaly Entwined
~~~~~~~~~~

A Full Definition of Dialectics
1
:  logic 1a(1)
2
a :  discussion and reasoning by dialogue as a method of intellectual investigation; specifically :  the Socratic techniques of exposing false beliefs and eliciting truth
b :  the Platonic investigation of the eternal ideas
3
:  the logic of fallacy
4
a :  the Hegelian process of change in which a concept or its realization passes over into and is preserved and fulfilled by its opposite; also :  the critical investigation of this process
b (1) usually plural but singular or plural in construction :  development through the stages of thesis, antithesis, and synthesis in accordance with the laws of dialectical materialism (2) :  the investigation of this process (3) :  the theoretical application of this process especially in the social sciences
5
usually plural but singular or plural in construction
a :  any systematic reasoning, exposition, or argument that juxtaposes opposed or contradictory ideas and usually seeks to resolve their conflict
b :  an intellectual exchange of ideas
6
:  the dialectical tension or opposition between two interacting forces or elements
~~~~~~~~~~
angel Mar 2015
Defining myself he or she asking how to think  causing me to breath but why me and I don't know what to anymore or how is meant to be but how to defining and so many ways to cause you to Wonder what will you do. Bleeding through my pain is driving me crazy trying to fight the saddest how I'm feeling right now but loving people is to different  things to worry about and I need to focus how to define myself who I'm and what I'm ....... Wondering if I can tell people that finding yourself is a adventure of things that you might want to accomplish in life.
Should I had more words or nah?
As I decompose, don't decipher the
depths of my pain. I was indecisive, in life and
death, defining my problems deformed my
whole purpose. And maybe I was too delicate
for these demised decisions, deflecting and
deluding recovery, instead; I delve into these
delusions I'm too scared to deny in my head, its
density dented me, depleted my happiness,
and feeds off my doubt, all inside of me-
I get so fascinated with one letter, I don't  know why, and odd poems like these come to be.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Allie Dotson Dec 2018
Death isn't dark
It does not have a cloak
or a gender of some sort
It is neither Tall or short
and It doesn't cater towards one
over another
It effects all
but it affects all differently
Yet as Deaths form changes
The destination never shifts
Each person
Each thing
Experiences something different then the person before
and The infected are becoming more
Yet isn't death just death?
A word given to
an idea
An experience
Which reaches beyond our gasp
stretches long out of sight
With no captain or map
for a ship to sail on the sea of infinite possibilities
we try to seek safety
A closure of having no control
but we have yet to achieve it
Instead creating A Defense mechanism
for not having a awnser to an unsolvable riddle
we try to grasp the idea
give a word to it
define it
Death is Death
but is Death really Death?
sharpcastuser Nov 2011
A beacon of light in darkness
Radiating its energy
Defining each object in its colors
Standing out from all others
Emitting rays of hope
Fails me not on stormy nights
Burning bright and glimmering
Through the sconce on the wall
The lamp, like a shining star
Brings warmth to my soul

© 2004 - Pres  Hello-Poetry.com - All Rights Reserved
In this poem, the triggering subject is the lamp. The generated subject is hope. Movement is created by association.
Decent for dessent
That’s how it’s rhythm went
As the conflict came to rise like the spark inside a fire
Intrepid since creation
We’ve been walking many wires
Feigning fear to To try and feel
A discernment of what is real but what’s disregarded is the fact you even have to question
Ignorance is bliss? Or strength in your intention?
Thought cannot be the only thing to exist
However a zombie is a waste if it doesn’t eat
brains
Have a little taste of a musing ride
That brings the flavor, you’ll need a guide
Spirit
Clear it
Hear it and run
Takin’ a century can it be done?
The meeting as one
Secret salvation the secret is done
Are they telling in whispers and walking like drifters
They’re  tripping on papers it’s time to re gift it
explain in due time ya never could fake this
Always trying to break us
But the music is strong and it’s beat  will make us
The beings that we are
the worlds we are
The birth of the universe from another’s dying star
We are the afterlife of another existence
Brand new creation looking for witness
Billions of years  to finally have it here and now it could easily disappear
Reality is what?
Desire and emptiness?
Why’s the door shut every time I vent through this
Aging agitation
Buried vegetation
It’s time to find the faults within and bless it all with love so that the veil may fall and the world may hear it’s original name, but for now it shall be a very long game
**RisingSpirit**
October Dec 2018
I had a different name
It was "Undiscovered"
Now this name, no longer my cover
There's a darker truth as to why it's updated to "October"
Tears of joy, tears of sadness
They all share this amber month of blackness
A deep history of sight
The pain and origin of why I write

Her name was Erin
She was beautiful
She was young
Erin, was special
and Rhett's, without doubt, the devil
The disease rendered her without brain function
Resulted in physical mutation
Erin, had an expiration
The day came
In the same month born
She would, from this life, be torn
I love you Erin
annh May 8
Hope to be...a hopeless romantic...hoping for the best...when all hope is lost.

Hope, I’ve always maintained, is like waiting with enthusiasm for something that is never going to happen. Such dedication!

And then I second-guessed myself.

Does it matter if what is hoped for eventuates or remains perpetually elusive? Is the practice of hope an event in itself; the lift in the shoulders, the spring in the step, the intangible high which gets us through? Maybe, that’s what hope is, no more or less than that. A survival mechanism of the highest order. An antidote to despair and disappointment which resuscitates the spirit, revitalises our connection to the world we live in, and inspires our momentum forward.

Hope is a self-generated experience which, with a select few thoughts or words, we can create for our own or for another’s benefit at any time and under any circumstances, irrespective of what is gained or lost in actuality. Granted, our individual perspective and personal biography directs our ability to conjure this sweet synaptic syntax, but with practice it can be ours for the taking.

Hope allies itself with truth and makes a friend of acceptance. It recognises what is possible and what is not. Hope has no expiry date but what we hope for does, and as such, hopes can be re-expressed, discarded, or adjusted in concert with our emotional evolution. Only with the advantage of hindsight can we declare a hope false or lost, and so often this declaration is made by an observer rather than the affected party.

Hope will always precede the outcome to which it is applied, a little like predicting the future, and therein lies the rub. As far as I’m concerned, there is no such thing as false hope, only that which is falsely applied. It is up to us to discern the difference.

'When you have lost hope, you have lost everything. And when you think all is lost, when all is dire and bleak, there is always hope.'
- Pittacus Lore, I Am Number Four
Ken Pepiton Aug 2018
A pocket of thought, ideas.
Impulses, has beens

epi-phenom-enal-con-currencies-synchron-icity
sorting places, thens and nows vying for attention

you see
we till stories in search of true tomorrows
not true
yesterdays (till, I said, not tell)
we **** the hard rows no one else will ***
so seed lies sown are never lies told, if the lies are never taught
or if the liars are caught before convincing the
intended crop to lie and swear a common liege Lord,
or die
for lack of knowing. Non-nascence, simplest
symptom to not see.
Whose death is yours to respond responsibly
to? My child's, or yourn?
In the early days, we knew less than we know now
about how knowing and growing were all
intended
to cost time. Ticks, ono motto whatever, the sound
gears and spiral springs pushing cogs
tick, one tooth tick at atime make

this rough, un polished, un glossed, is it wrong or

as I imagine a diamond in the rough must seem to a share cropper
experienced in diamond hunting, diamond prospecting,

prospecting expecting inspection to permit
seeing a 3.2 specific gravity,
specific
specify

species or spectacles,
spectators or special-if-eye-cation
value-en-abled. Weigh your mind in balance
with mine. I claim the mind of Christ.
What are the odds?

A wandering path, injoyable enable if-i-abble,
pacing is

everything, timing is everything, time is the test.

Time is the metagame.
Take your time. One word formed sylabble at a time.
Babble on, your confusion makes you mortal, to my mind.
Tick.
A quanta of time. Does time come in bits and pieces cernible,
but undiscernible from reality?

Babble.

Of course, time will tell. We learned that in our sleep, did we not?

Aesop taught us more than Moses, no,
Aesop taught us less than Moses.

But, we could learn to walk bearing the weight of knowing what
Aesop taught,
while we could not stand under the weight
Moses was said
to have taught.

Caught you, Jewboy. Whatchewknow?
The moral of the story.

THE IDEA is to win.
Beware the concision decision.
incisive devices, witty inventions.

Flip the shell, roll the bones, cast the runes and,
as luck might have it, die before your time.

Why factors are lies more oft than how factors.
Benefactors rule malefactors or
how or why would we invest our time in seeking reasons
to believe?

Is this the polished piece, the gemstone of specific gravity
(which currently means nothing to you. Here, you find too light
or too heavy, too weighty on the scale of specific value.)

Hard. Value hard, diamond hard, on Mr. Moore's scaled model of
Knowing exploding for reason's sake, raison d'etre, eh?
Too hard?
Not Mohr,
don't get me wrong.
We been Moore's law breaker all along.
We be manifested destinatory stories of heroes gone wrong.

Outlawed
knowing exploding to be reasoned with, by kind
children destined to become
written in stone, scarred by lies

Diamonds cutting diamonds, iron whetting iron
on eternity's edge.

Babylon, was it Bel's gate or fusion from below rising?

Magma fountains with diamond claws tearing the lands asunder
Is asunder still a word?, let me, allow me to define...
"into a position apart, separate,
into separate parts,"
mid-12c., contraction of Old English on sundran 
Middle English used to know asunder for
"distinguish, tell apart."
From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/asunder>
----

mumbler's humbler PIE, bowing before the knowers who
know nothing of my work.
Set apart, art thou holy aware?

Hermit me, meet the rest of me. The true rest that remained.
We live, you and I. Trust me, next is worth the wait.

Suffer needs no pain to make its point. Waiting is.

Grokk. WHO would believe that idea could live
through telegraphese to be tweet meets for the
Cosplay clans. How never grokked a rock,  why even less.

Strange, not be long in this
place. if
place this be. Odd
set aside
torn asunder
blown away.
Awake, little birdie, tell me true,
what's a man like me to do?

Did you meet the famous Mr. Blake?
I cleaned his chimney, way back when, chimbly's whut
we called em. Smoke stacks belchin' black
makin' black moths invisible to voracious
gulls.
Now the peppered moths are free
to be white-ish, for better or worse.

----

right, now, do right or

miss the mark,
the specific mark you made, maybe,
imagining, abstract obstructions missed
by the skin on Job's teeth as you run past

right now to more. You know?

----=

Story telling was the same as lying when I was a child, to me.

Telling stories was my gift I never took. Or am I lying? or mad,
in the old way.
Chailot's rag picker was my best friend.

No noble thought ever found it's home in my head, once
I thunk it, it stunk to high heaven, for me stinkin' thinkin' it.

Po' ems sang sour to fiddles wit' one strang and drums with no
cymbals
Screamin' he owed m' soul the comp'ny sto' bang bang thud.

I died, he lied, and lived to tell this story, ****** if I know,
****** if I don't.

True as true can be. I am lost, but once was found,
lyin' rough, uncut in acres of unseen gems.
----
* Voltaire refused to teach me any thing I could not define:
late 14c., deffinen, diffinen, "to specify; to fix or establish authoritatively;" of words, phrases, etc., "state the signification of, explain what is meant by, describe in detail," from Old French defenir, definir "to finish, conclude, come to an end; bring to an end; define, determine with precision," and directly from Medieval Latin diffinire, definire, from Latin definire "to limit, determine, explain," from de "completely" (see de-) + finire "to bound, limit," from finis "boundary, end" (see finish (v.)). From c. 1400 as "determine, declare, or mark the limit of." Related: Defined; defining.

So, imagine facets unseen, I am at least a meme, a bubble rising on the tide. Think, as you will. Amen?
Incorporating radical (root-related) definitions via cut and paste is my way of acknowledging that I have no ex-uses left for using words in a wrong, thus lying, way.
WL Schuett Mar 2018
The stars try to shine
Down through indifferent clouds.
Her tears mix with rain
and water her path
defining the moments
Of forever.
Love is the fiercest part
of her being.
Though she struggles to
find it’s authenticity
Hiding her codes
behind barbwire and thorns.
Her hands are bloodstained
in the hours of time.
She is mysterious
With many latitudes
Calling from a different
Kind of universe.
Yet she walks that path of stones
Believing she is a different
Person than the one she leaves
on the trail .

Walking away from that
Hushed comfort of
understated majesty.
Hearing music amid
The squalor of verse
With strangers who love
among the poetic’s
of language.

I grow tired of the
Deep waters
I’m learning to navigate
the shallows
Where purring oratory
Captures me and leaves
Me spellbound beyond
All measures and time .
sharpcastuser Jan 2011
The mirror on the wall
Its cold, glassy stare
Like an intentional glare
At Life captured as a reflection
Observing an image frozen
In our mind , the boundaries
Confined within us defining
Formation of a self-image
Instant Imprints of our conscience
That's searching through the depths
Of one's soul for the affirmations
Needed to sustain an ego
Standing tall over the mantle
Outlining the walls of a room
With hues from a color spectrum
Reflecting light onto the face
Of an onlooker whose eyes gaze
Into this mirror that's on the wall

© 2004 - Pres  Hello-Poetry.com - All Rights Reserved
copyright 2011 sharpcastuser.com
Hector Jul 16
~

I am a sunset

painting shades

of orange gold

to be remembered,

briefly.

I stamp my print

on shifting sands

defining moments

I cannot hold

the rising tide,

briefly.

I am a rush of wants

in someone’s eyes,

the stormy clouds

across the skies,

briefly

I am


-
H.O
July 16, 2019
“One clear moment, one of trance
One missed step, one perfect dance
One missed shot, one and only chance
Life is all...but one fleeting glance.”
― Sanober Khan
Andrew Rueter Oct 2017
We find multiple ways to disconnect
Where business and technology intersect
We kick one another for cash
When we need equilibrium for our economy
Our morals disintegrate to ash
And we trade away our autonomy
But we don't dare reflect
Instead we disconnect
We turn people into symbols and numbers
So we can more comfortably slumber
After causing heartbreaking pain
Through bureaucratic chains
Because face to face
Our heart will race
And we'll examine our submerged morals
That lie in the depths with the coral
But our reflection is too much to bear
So we cowardly choose not to care
The only way we can feel ecstatic
Is to turn people into demographics

The Internet connects us
But also satisfies lust
And imitates human contact
Which has a negative impact
The feeling leaves us sated
And we don't feel the need to change
Our armor becomes plated
And we shoot arrows from long range
Because we don't like the idea of being one another
We get used to the idea of not seeing one another
We disconnect so we don't have to try
We disconnect so we can slowly die

The ****** disconnection continues
As we find more violent avenues
We utilize fatal instruments
To ****** without the sense
Of physically feeling
The life we're stealing
We stabbed one another with swords
Until the bullets soared
But we still needed more
So we disconnected further
And became satellite searchers
Studying people through actions
Defining them by faction
We don't have any interest in their personality or flaws
All we're concerned with is if they're breaking the law
The law we wrote to tip the scales
The law that makes us too big to fail

A husband leaves his wife
Disconnecting from her life
She's left with a child
To raise in the wild
Until a drone drops a bomb
On the struggling single mom
She's not an investor
So we'll just harvest her worthless life
Who'll be her protector
When she's near someone we don't like?
We **** her from our computer
That's the way we casually mute her

We carefully cultivated a disconnect
To treat one another like insects
This mentality will infect
Until we interject
Once we finally reflect
Love will connect
s Oct 2017
I think it's been four hundred days
since that innocuous defining phase,
But that's if we were keeping count,
and if numbers meant a thing at all.

For isn't time just ornamental,
perhaps even incidental,
when the commodity is sentimental,
or like love, a hypothetical
fundamental ?

Same page?, I ask,
tying to gauge flipping thoughts;
As if I knew where
my book was marked.
But pages, I can dog-ear,
to hold onto a moment
that would otherwise disappear;

An excerpt that I can savour
many moons later,
when love turns to favour
and leaves
a bittersweet flavour.

It's today
I'm looking for,
among shuffling tenses
but the focal lenses
are blurring
And my words
are slurring
for I'm too close
to your near perfect nose,
to find a reason
for why we chose
this.

I'm afraid this poem has turned
into a rhythm & blue,
or maybe it's an untimely cue
to write that song about you and me -
One that's been due
for a month or three.

A nonsense rune
with an infectious tune;
in the four chord beat,
where the lyrics
unfailingly repeat.

A rhythmic monotony
of a romantic comedy -
a stanza about you,
and a chorus about me -
a few things kept true,
and some made up for story.

Something about
wine pink shirts
and warm maroon shawls,
with just a few words
about unsaved phone calls.
A yellow lamp here,
an airport kiss there.
a night spent in fear,
of doubting you'll be there.
A white wall washed
in cinematic glory;
Two kittens tossed in
to make trouble & ***.
And then a pre chorus
about card tricks and foreplay
and the time in the bus,
we talked about a good day.
A few bits borrowed
from the last rhyme I wrote
and that could be followed
by one even before;
For what could I say
that I haven't already proclaimed
in ten odd poems,
gushing with love, unashamed
Dan Filcek Apr 2015
Regular contributors expect a regular sum
Pay seems to go to a lottery stream
Veterans continue surviving throughout
Some they suffer a disability
Retirement plan paid by unknown  
Employee dollars. Unionized employees' plans
Dollars, averaged then paid.
Dollars considered equal to life.
Formed and defined by other arrangements in the world,
Like the current security
Some so funded that there will be obligations
Risky employer, not defining incentives.
People-shaped benefits accelerate
To this lesser plan do contributions by nature return
The first benefit from the dark schemes
and lifespan levies. The corporation estimated risks on the level
But any political excessive state forms risky functions
Constructed however legally, into a choice:
Insurance or Individual
In number steadily rising,
Can contributions, different from the plan, be indeed equivalent?
Use the benefit, Balance the benefit.
Participant investment, responsible investment, involves trust
The trusted schemes, the republic plans.
Typically unequal, second in scope, with largely limited designs
Plans account termination for the individual
Widows appear
it is the year of the Pension
This year for Poetry Month, I decided to post a "found poem" every day. If writing a poem is like painting, a "found poem" is like sculpting. - source https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pension
Andrew Rueter Sep 2017
Donald Trump's presidency
Is one of the greatest achievements in art I have ever experienced
And Trump is a true artist
He takes words from the page
Like corruption, disenfranchisement, xenophobia
And brings them to life
Highlighting fear and paranoia so clearly
Contrasting the blacks and whites
Emphasizing anger
While reminding us we're mere infants
In the digital age
And warning us of our seniority
And capitalism's

We all like to think life has meaning
Until we hit an animal with our car
Then that's just the way things are
And I'm staring at an absurdist painting
Of a child driving a car
Through a herd of sheep
As I watch a heist film
Where the robbers turn their guns over
To the mentally unstable guy in the group

Trump is a national artist
Placing riots on the map
And drawing infernos on the Internet
His art forces an opinion
Everybody has something to say about him
And it's all true
Even the pages he ripped from his own cabinet
Tried to villainize him in their script
But he was already an anti-hero
The humor is that the mud slung onto him
Is dirt kicked up from his own tires
I guess if you surround yourself with hateful people
You're surrounding yourself with people who probably hate you

Trump's art is deeply conflicting
He reminds me of the people who want me to live in shame
Yet he embodies the individuality that separates me from that shame
His insecurities remind me of myself
High school is the White House in the eyes of a kid
And I had secrets I wanted to share
But felt I couldn't
I learned things
That changed my entire perspective
And didn't think people would understand
Afraid of being assaulted for my indiscretions
I hid behind a boisterous personality
And a nonchalant attitude
Trump's art evokes sympathy and hatred that feels so strong
When he holds a mirror defining our worst qualities
To a man viscerally opposed to his own reflection
The confliction of emotions
Is the hallmark of great art

We are all artists
The lines we write or the strokes we brush
Are in our actions
And Trump's canvas displays
A life filled with accomplishment
Inspiring me to live my own life
But I still wake up in cold sweats
From the American dream
That anybody can be president
ogdiddynash Jul 2018
helping the kids with homework


no one told you,
was part of the job description
paycheck earner a-ok,
gruff but tender lover,
knowing her special places,
building a tree swing,
a tree house safe and satisfactory,
one the neighbors envy

taking them to the hospital for
broken arms and chemotherapy,
part two of the non-routine but a very possible foreseeable,
going to school to give that principal a look
that will make him think twice before suspending
one of his for defending himself

you remember your daddy doing the same for you,
forgetting to repeat the tar and hiding that came later

the tucking in, the pretense ouch
when your end of day
scratchy beard ruffling the skin of babies,
carrying tissues in a toolbox,
never heard of, nevertheless done,
tho not a memory defining the future inclusive,
definitely a learning ability, a likeability

doing homework, nuh uh,
no way jose, don’t dare let them
know how you never got a gold star,
always sat in the back row, outta sight,
all day dreaming, chemistry rhymes with mystery,
and poetry is rhymes needing a big vocabulary
which means lots of words for a man who don’t talk much

ain’t exactly his strong suit

sure, heard of Shakespeare but never met him,
know where the on/off computer button hides,
the rest is up to them;
got no email address, but taught them sir and ma’am,
how to address humans with respect,

i’ll promise them anything
but not doing any homework,
unless it the kind that that makes

a home work
#homework
multi sumus Nov 2018
Please excuse the delinquency of this introduction

Our reluctance
             to the judgements
                        of the agents
                                   of destruction

We wanted to write a few prose so those who chose could be gathering from it

The assumption
              there is something
                               an insight
                                      or deduction

And while concidering the possible repercussions We might be facing

The presentation
        this present state in
                   which the statements
                               press mentation

We're sure to procure closure in the vulnerable over exposure

with exhorted
               supplications
                              by esoteric
         ­                                revelations
                               
In the beginning lets just start with a na-ame

                   Multi Sumus
                 "We Are Many"
          All of one and the sa-ame  

                environmental
                     incidental
       so there's no ONE to bla-ame

                  Amalgamated
                   Complicated
      yet We're feeling no sha-ame


   Cursed with this blessing by the charts of Our births

    Compounded by experience throughout the time on this earth

   Situation realization through extensive research

                  Ameliorating
                   Emendating
          till returned to the dirt


               So it's obvious
              there's lots of Us
                      Innocuous
                 We promise this
                 with confidence

influencingcongruent  
                          confluence
               of the congregants
              by this augmented
                           auspicious
                           cognizance

                           auspices
                             operable
    in Our neurological
                       acropolis

                        
 Okay, now that We have your um "unndivided" attention

The ****** descention intentional

With potential illicit material

Exotic content individuals

Unequivocal extreme of the
physical

Inciting the violence eventual

With depraved images into the temporal


  And just when you thought We couldnt exacerbate this already exasperating elaborate facade

  Now We have you fascinated thinking We're ******* to The Marque De Sade!

Post deliberation- Psychopathia Sexualis as bed time stories was kind of odd

But The Kama Sutras' pages had hastened degradation from where they'd been gnawed!

   There were a few more things we want to sit down and talk about

Like the fact that We're actually celibate
The distain for institutionalised education
and dropping out

Thats alot of intimate information
  "How could We ever let this happen?"

To be honest We're just honored to give some fodder for your defamation of character cannon!
 
  So before you begin your rapacious onslaught of malevolent inspection!

   We've already detected all the things that's presumed you've currently rejected!

   With proverbial red pen in hand you've commenced your conceited correcting!

   And your futile fervent attempt, in leaving Us feeling extremely dejected!

   your annoyance with the performance of deforming poetic normalcy

The convulsive compulsions of the expulsions of the compulsory

            Conclusions include:
                 Literal assault
                          and
                Literary battery

And cleaning from the cathodes This convoluted corrosion of conformity!


    Without trying to sound hostile
                          though it's possible
                                   that a hospital
        istheonlyinstitutionthatcan
                    ­                    jostle those
                                              illogical
   ­                    pre con ceived
               fossilisedmisconceptions

                       ­ All the while though

your just seeking attention for the aforementioned


Alright, Well We're not gonnna be a denying it

because We're constantly being reminded of

rhyming with defiant defining an

the metre maids retirement  

"She's been lying?!"
                    "Oh Geez!
                           She's fired then!"

cause its trying-trying to inspire realigning the tongue from relying on tying to find it!

        
      Gerunds are whoreable!

         /'speliNGz/ deplorable!

scriptioscripturascriptacontinua!...
"?"

(n)irony{8}>(adj)ironic+suffixally

(adv)       Ironically      {8}{3}­   (adj)         moral!          [3]|B2|
(adv)    Rhetorical­              [2a]
(adv)        ******!                   [1]

{dictionary.com}[merriamwebster]
|cambridge dictionary|

nunciatesinuateunctuateunciate!...
"There is no way We c"


   With atrocious verboseness
   who'd notice the odious?!

"We are not! gonna stan"

     01000001 01100100
        01110110 01010000!...

"Wait! i dont th"


   yllacitammarg cihpromanA
    tor/sion/ed          /vern/acular!

             ^                       ^
  CUL/t u r/AL PER/spect/IVE•

  <PECULIAR {2}  [] [] {}{}  L•VE>

"UughH!"¡"UughH!"¡"UughH!"
"STOP!
              STop!

(adj)[1:2a]    stop! Wha' what are you doing?!"
".."
"No no, you get offof there!"
-(motioning with finger)
"And you two! Mmf!"
-(shaking head upwards)
           "~" "~"
"Don't use that tone with me!"
                "="
"Alright then"        
-(stern nod)
-(salaci•us grin while smacking both bottoms as walking past ;)

(adj)[1]
"Now what do you think your doing?"
-(quickly turning towards other)
"……,…"
"Rreally?"
"……!.."
"And how is that helpful?"
-(crossing arms)
"….-¿lol"
"Did i ask you fo?"
"…..-~¿"
"And you are entitled" "¡" "to" "¡" "your" "¡" "•pinion."
"…!"
"i understand, yes"
"…;~
!"
"Yes"
"~#"
"YES!"
-(opening arms)
"just talk WITH Us about these issues."
-(hand on shoulder)

(n){8}{9}
"……"
"No fret, May We continue?"
"!"
"Go•d"
"!"
"Now, Would you be so kind?"
-(gesturing towards player)
".."
"thank you."
-(humble nod)
"…,……^?"
"They wouldn't be able hear it anyway"
"?"
-(shaking head downward closing eyes)

               "Because it is written"
                              

     (We now return you to the
    regularly scheduled program
            already in progress
)
                              

…attenuating circumstance by objectionable technical difficulties


  Continually conjugating with;        
intellectually
infectional
inflectional
abilities

    But these consensual;
contemptually
abjectionable
contextual
similes

   has Us postulating that with;
exceptionally
inceptional
correctional
humilities

   there's a deduction exponentially of;
potentially
subjectionable
conjectural
tendencies


  We're very much obliged that you would grace us with your presence
   in essence
   it's evident
you take precedence
being prevalent
   and the
relevance of your acceptance
to Our all exclusive
    intrusive collusion
is proving profusely
  that the astute
  can irrefutably
elude the obtuses'
       rebuking


And although We're not looking
                           for
                    justification
                just in case then
               the arrangement
             with it's placement
                   of degrading
                     statements
                        ajacent
                   ­       to the
                         blatent
                    and flagrant
                   abnormalities
                 with the falacies
                 of formalities in
                    a-all actuality
                     being valid
                         via the
                      vehement
                           and
                      venenated
                      vituper­ate
                       veracities

  And just so you know the list of pressumptions is deliberately
unexhaustive
At the cost of
your responses
involving constant devolving nonsense
in the comments
on the contents
full of copious despondent obstinance
But as optimists
Our only option is
hopes that it's the conglomerate
your being honest with

                 And please,
                     We ask,
         That you use your true profile when you begin your posting

  That we can ALL see the blood of a "real" poets muse
            flow from the pen

                  So in closing...

Next time you make the
           decision to visit them
             with your insolence

                 machiavellist
            hypercritical cynic,
               Remembering a

            six minute version
          "authority" usurption
               deserving by an

                              •

                    Uneducated
       Mental Fragmental Eunich
                   Eunoterpsian

          
           Filling your head with
     thoughts you wish to jetison
              by suggestions of

              ingestions with a
     taste of your own medicine!
        When you rest your head

          sugar plums won't be
    dancing, substantial chances
            you will be glancing

          a couple more times,
          We hear repetition is
             good for a growing

                             •

         Mind you that We left
         easter eggs to quantify
            attendance, intense

                attention on Us
      at least you will be leaving
               the others alone

             We just wanted to
           take this opportunity
                            to cast the first stone.
Donatien Alphonse François
  Marquis de Sade
1740-1814

Psychopathia Sexualis (Psychopathy of ***), by Richard Freiherr von Krafft-Ebing, 1886

The Kama Sutra (/ˈkɑːmə ˈsuːtrə/; Sanskrit: कामसूत्र  is an ancient Indian Hindu writing by Vātsyāyana
400 BCE-200CE

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3099453/first-stone-ode-to-trolls-extrapolated-i/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3099476/first-stone-ode-to-trolls-extrapolated-ii/
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2016
~
words given life's first breath by this comment from
SE Reimer  
"thy tiller has found a storied port"

~~

captain of a city street ferry,
upon the choppy holy waters of
scarlet fevered spotted gum stained
christened concrete streets

daylight guided by the starlight
of quartz sparklers sidewalk embedded,
resurrecting, overwhelming,
the grayness of men's mortared materialism,
these textured bright city lights,
from murk morn steam-pipe risen,
signposts of a city boys life,
navigation tools on his
steerage cruises

'tis only my poor torso
I captain,
my bus driving days retired,
single masted, obedient to the sun's paths plotted
on a personalized AAA TripTik,^
my cargo, my tiring physique,
the refined mettle product of a
sixty five year too short voyage of
deep diving mining defining,
and for surety, water divining

city walking life driving,
debtor-in-possession of a
city infection
of perpetual motion sickness

enabled inability
for standing stilled,
lane weaving,
people receiving and perceiving
as buoyed obstacle objects
to be passed by
in a higher lane
of shaken and stirred
city waterways

muscle's squeak in sonnet speak

Why speed thy errant boots
upon lanes of wandering men,
is there not time enough,
words suffice,
in history's future present
unlived long life,
to recompense
all your recorded stanzas,
mariner's tales and wrote recitations of seafaring voices?

sea nat run.
sea nat go.

dodging tween his fellow citified citizens
and the puzzled and puzzling drowning tourists,
sea nat write his unsecreted visions,
sailing from street to shining street poetry

this glorious grime,
this delicious dirt,
stuff of my blood,
genes of my children's children inheritance,
of thee I sing,
in thee I revel,
of thee I am composed

when my decomposing time scheduled arrival
lately comes on time,
bury me in its cemetery of memories,
within the soft earth of a watery grave
that the jackhammers drill bit paddles can uncover,
in rough canvas toss my worn smooth
failed frame overboard,
so I may become but one more
fable
in your fabulous liquefying
cement oceans

~~~

3:53 am
5/18/16
nyc

^
http://pearlsoftravelwisdom.boardingarea.com/2014/01/remember-triptix/
with apologies to all the great poets from  I liberally borrowed
Erin Suurkoivu Oct 2016
Could it have happened any differently?
Perhaps. But which fork in the road was it?
Where does the path start to unravel?
A change in the way things are
Would have changed everything else as well.

For all the mistakes bemoaned, lessons
Learned – unless vanity stands in the way –
Or the same error repeated
With different actors playing the same role –
Hero and villain alike.

And the split between people of insignificance and
The people that matter – faces splashed on
Tabloids and magazine covers –
The invisible reduced to mere shadows
Floating on the fringes of light.

Shadows have a way of defining the light.
People have a way of shaping our lives,
Setting in motion our trajectories,
The way banks and boulders guide water in a river –
The wind, a fallen tree.

No absence made a hole in the day of someone
Who was never there.
What’s out of our control – people,
Sequences of events. What’s inevitable –
How we choose to react.
"The Way Things Are" can be found in my poetry book, "Blood for Honey", available at Lulu.com and Amazon.
JS CARIE Mar 9
At the same time of year
cold winds bite down and continue to blow
my knuckles encounter these tearing gusts with ripped chapping

Alone together
As the moon veils through the curtain
and the only noise outside
are echoes of crickets chirping

Embrace is proffered
Under a dim glare from the lunar glow  
a lucky duo who are in need of an other to bestow
Heedlessly collect the offer

she coats her fingers and palms in oil & aloe
one at a time our hands begin binding
regarding this oil from plants insides refined
creating a mirrored rhyme

Her hands of wisdom take on a placidity
when combing over my wounded misery
I can see the searing adopt a soothing
Into every finger
she sends the technique of love speak
what it is to see in motion and defining
...the endearing
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