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Julian Jun 2018
The ******* of embezzled glory staunchly defend their counterfeit stature by defalcating the public trust of industrious societies governed internally by compunction and sabotaged externally by the tempests of acerbic fate met with inclement aleatory convergence. To supply a society with ingenuity without being complaisant or officious with unctuous pleas to the overlords we must fashion a new vogue that taps the bustle of giants and aggrandizes the margins to oversee their own creative destinies with scaffolded arrangements of titanic promise and justifiable fluidity to conquer the blinkered dogmatism of a dissolute chastity to inveterate apocryphal tenets of factitious but unmerited perspectives. Democracy crumbles when the convenience of sensationalism supplants the resolve of those that fossick hidden wealth and promulgate validity instead of undergirding pomp with precarious prevarications of duplicitous omission guarded gingerly by the gatekeepers of a ****** sanity that whitewashes the discussion with invented hobgoblins and purblind catharsis. To defeat simplicity and enshrine byzantine elegance as the paragon for voguish commentary rather than abide by a bowdlerized decorum for appeasing simpletons with divisive balkanization through identity politics we can overcome the impediments to human progress that are engineered to persist because of the inertia of the listless and the stubbornness of doctrinaire politicization and invent vivacity and festivity anew. We need to divorce ourselves from pedestrian quibbles of hero-worship that endanger the vitality of the common discourse because of fastidious pedantic disempowerment that ravages us with debased dreams by underscoring nuisances and tolerable nightmares that emasculate the virulence of the liberated individual and subvert his ambitions to contend with a picaresque world of limitless promise and self-motivated internal wealth.
      The bane of modernity is how chary the world becomes because of fractured histories intersecting with controversial destinies and the antidote to that poisonous self-defeating self-censorship is the audacity of brazen challenges to expurgation through assiduous resourcefulness and delicate diplomacy in wrangling controversies with outspoken courage rather than whispered resentment. Temerity waged in inclement circumstance is justified and curiosity stoked by lambent flames of fulgurant individualism should be fortified to the extent necessary to conquer the feckless spoilsports of unctuous puritanism and institutional obedience. The quacksalvers that blather about inconsequence strand the imagination in a desiccated desert that is ostracized from the palettes of the artistic whim to wield efflorescence rather than squander life in pursuit of perfunctory lucre or tenuous solidarity around banal idealism promised by social justice warriors that forget the biggest war being waged on humanity is on the ingenuity of the common discourse and the liberty to opine about real issues rather than saccharine conventions of emasculation through linguistic imprisonment and epicurean slavery to fashimites who relish the buzzword but never the enlightened audience that scoffs at feeble attempts at cultural commentary like Childish Gambino’s “This is America” music video. This particular artifact is a demonstration of how childishly fickle the plebeian mentality really is, stitching together a bricolage of violence to engineer controversy and serenading it with the most banal music imaginable and exhorting people to herald it as a high artform while inundating the world with unimaginative comic book movies and Star Wars rip-offs because of the lucrative business of formulaic replication. “This is America” should be regarded as a parody of itself because of how hackneyed its design is and how cacophonous it sounds and mocks its audience with lowbrow tactics of adding tinsel to trash and marketing it as the glory of tatterdemalions rather than the refinement of true cinematic achievements that have been relegated because Warhol’s Campbells-Soup-consumerism trumps true belletrist in the public view.
        Cultural watersheds punctuate our history with salient achievements in experimentation, but the formulaic profiteering of buzzword sensationalism and yellow journalism and the ostentatious glorification of promiscuous boasting and fancy cars tantalize the mice to continue playing slot machines rather than penning a novel or doing something promethean. The world scoffs at Trump but ignores the bigger institutional caveats that endanger us much more than a pragmatic albeit unconventional pontificator who is complicit in constructing a false narrative to enslave mindless people to fret about eminence rather than delight themselves in the consequential nuances of established refinement that used to serenade the world with flourish and spectacle. The world kowtows to the crusade against flavor-of-the-week enemies of the liberal-conservative syncretism because it has been conditioned to believe that synthesis is the only logical solution for the polarized worldviews of churlish people that become parvenus not on their merits but on their marketable pitfalls and their public foibles. Peccadillos are more important to people than virtues and this makes society morally bankrupt if we loiter around Astroturf causes that have been infiltrated by corporatism and venal debauchery and acquiesce as disempowered gossip hounds that hunt in packs to find jest in aberration rather than achievement in self-created narratives that defy the stupid purblind boorishness of the mainstream media and its haughty liberalism or the persnickety condemnation of priggish conservative moralities that had an expiration date 50 years ago. Who the **** cares about transgender-touting-gender-fluidity quidnuncs and the snooty obsession with lurid personal endeavors of reputable people that made minor ****** transgressions in a world policed by wide-eyed feminazis that seek to ransack men of their vital virulence to spotlight their unjustifiable oppression. Women are oppressed but the carnal nature of their calumniation and their vindictive powers of persuasion are deployed with such vehement vigilance and such distaste for the majority that the world relegates itself to quibbles of celebrities rather than substantive issues. There is a systemic feminization of society occurring that seeks to demarcate despotic uxorious pleasantries as an incarceration of vocal dissent against supercilious women and their tamed men that slavishly grovel in repudiation of anything prickly.  Men historically have oppressed women but the solution to this quandary isn’t a reverse discrimination where the minority concern is spotlighted as a majoritarian issue that overshadows the disproportionate nature of our society where nominal accreditation is afforded in a non-meritocratic way to absolve people of their carnality and demote the vigorous defense of human liberty as secondary to compromise solutions that appease more people than they offend but simultaneously result in suboptimal conditions that reward arbitrarily coachable people while jettisoning anyone witty enough to be capable of insubordination of a hedonistic epicurean world obsessed with appearance and ravaged by the decadence of formulaic profiteering at the expense of originality and true promethean art that is herculean enough to defy hackneyed tropes and siphon the best elements from a piecemeal world variegated with complexity but stifled by fomented hatred.
The solutions to these problems is to create a watchdog group of artistic critics who become eminent and ubiquitously heard enough to offer creative consultation to the artistic endeavors that we consume and the music that is curated for fastidious ears that crave euphonic originality rather than the banality of easily dovetailed bass-heavy cookie-cutter garbage and the gaudy tactics of talentless rappers whose swagger derives from  the intersection of opportunism and the divestiture of an industry that rewards gloated supercilious epicureanism and meretricious marketability. Am I the only one jaded by second-rate superhero movies that infest the cinemas that borrow from Michael Bay while thrusting pulse-pounding but narratively bankrupt movies down the throats of consumers that might prize the cinematic originality of the heyday of filmmaking? Is it always high art to invent controversy that is witless or half-witted just because it will create buzz? Shouldn’t we condemn the laziness of society in acquiescing to the penury of the modern cultural narrative which belabors the dead horses of racism and sexism ad nauseum? Shouldn’t we fight the war of against inequity through legislation rather than hibernating about scandalous eminence and testy malfeasance?
          Liberty should be championed above all else and we are turning our backs on the future unless we muster the resolve to diminish the sway of the common narrative and aim our spotlight at consequential endeavors rather than the tropes of prosaic and pedestrian bastardization of art and culture. We need to fight artistic laziness which has ravaged our culture and castigate the tactics of wannabee celebrities that use lurid tactics to attract an audience by bedizening themselves with Pyrrhic ostentations and rampant fakery to create more melodrama in a world that needs to be less histrionic. YouTube celebrities swarm us as they get high on ******* and lean-- at our expense-- and vandalize property and convincing nine-year-old’s like Lil Tay to flex her money like it is infinitely renewable in a finite world where all our attention is wasted on artless artifice of less talented people that know how to engineer a ruckus by strutting themselves beyond all decency and selling out to a corporatist nightmare of enslaved convenience. We need to be more vocal about the dissolution of artistic merit and the formulaic repetition of successful formulas that jade us and make us yawn about another retread of a previously successful idea that is milked to the point of cruelty.                                                         ­                       
       Let’s change the narrative and focus on creating true art rather than reacting to the meretricious tinsel of the vogue consensus which is so impotent in its ability to rivet audiences because it has become so notoriously lazy. Fight laziness in art, dismiss your news feeds, be resourceful, seek true happiness rather than find yourself hoodwinked and duped by the idea that Trump is the most important issue or getting caught in thought loops and brooding about sexism and inequality. Let us strive to be egalitarian but within limits that would also appease hominists rather than just the hypertrophy of the leftist narrative that seeks to cage us with the doublespeak of complaisant conformity.  Reject the unctuous charlatans that pretend priggishness when their banausic purpose is barbaric but beguiling to be a lullaby for laggards. We need to fight for the future of civilization rather than hobnob with convenience and loiter around decrying false perpetrators rather than systemic injustices that could otherwise be rectified if enough people fought for it. We can invent a future that is a great festivity serenaded by cultivated artistic refinement and forget about the trifles that divide us. United in ambition and fueled by ingenuity we can defeat artistic laziness and be resourceful with how we decide what is newsworthy. Spurred by the argosy of proactive motivation we can change the world in a substantial way by deciphering the subtext that governs the world. The subtext is everything!
Pluto says
Keep your hug

Pluto says
Dwarf Planet my ***

Pluto says
Sticks and Stones *******

Pluto says
I know what I am
I don’t care
For your “opinion”

Captured by the Kuiper Belt! Please.
Or one my favorites,
A cold rock!

You called me a trans-Neptunian object?
I have five moons!
An 11 year old girl tried to name me.
She won £5 but I’ve had many names.
I am fond of Hiro.
But I’ve also liked Minerva.
I am hardly a minor planet.

In 2006 they tried to make a verb out of me
To "pluto" is to "demote or devalue someone or something.”
*******!
So passive aggressive and insulting.

I am not carrying that around with me
My orbit is 248 years.
At a 17 degree angle thank you very much
To pay my respects to that egomaniac Sun.
Why would I care what you think?
Perhaps I am envied because I am so far away.
I don’t think that I am far away at all.
It’s relative, no?
Yes, I am removed
from that Versailles situation over there
and all that *******.
That horrible planet
You know the one that I mean.
The one that’s crawling with “things”
They’re not even you.
Disgusting.

I am awash with molten ices and
I even sport a plasma tail.
I spin in nitrogen gases
On my own path
Alone
With my FIVE moons!
Just us!

They claim that there are other
Dwarf Planets here and there
And even go so far as to suggest
That I am the puniest amongst them
But with my five and five more still
That’s 10 to 8
And you already know what I can do.
When you think about wanting to give up,
Just remember so did your neighbor Fred
Fred's dead.
Joe Picardi Jan 2012
We the Sheeple of the Modern world,
in Order to form a more uniform society,
establish careers,
insure domestic conformity,
destroy the uncommon difference,
demote the idealistic,
and imbed the hatred of abnormality to ourselves and our Posterity,
do ordain and establish this societal law for the Earth and all it's inhabitants.
Before this ardent Prank you consider
Concern your Senses on how they'll react
If, with Plomb expressed, breach this Barker
To demote his Heresy into Fact
Of course, seldom would we fancy such scene
And kiss Companion we will christen Hope
Which, by your Rights thereof, absorb such Mean
Then ferry those Weights as a New Year's Dope
It is a Being. Sentient as he
Whose Cuteness reimbursed his Nature make
Which, invest his uttermost Respect be
Will his Innocence and Comfort bespake.
Humour cures. In this Shaky World indeed
To sew its Scars; Promote Contempt at speed.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Neha shimoga Apr 2016
Stygian it was when she
looked at her face.
Her mind was angelic
and so was her soul.
Her lips were droughty
and her eyes were
watering.
Scars on her hand
reminded her of her
flagitious battle against
the world.
Every day she hid
herself in the
shadows of the
people who demean and
demote her as their
soul was as black
as hell which
could conceal
all her flaws and imperfections.
She made darkness her home
as the world outside was cruel.
Nobody looked at her for her
celestial soul.
She had forgotten what it was like
to be euphoric.
All the fiendish products she
used to make herself look
beautiful were lying on
the floor.
With empty eyes
and wasted hopes
she walked
towards the mirror but
turned away as she was
Scared to look at herself.
She wore a mask
of makeup everyday
which still didn't satisfy
society's needs.
Perfect skin with no
Flaws was
Considered the new
beauty.
She had a heart made of gold
but no one realised that
appearance is not what
makes someone beautuful
and beauty is always
on the inside and it
begins when you
start being yourself .
We should always be ourselves and never let anyone bring us down. We all have imperfections and that is what makes us beautiful. One should also have an angelic mind and a celestial soul. Beauty is always on the inside. Inner beauty is what matters the most because most of the times looks can be deceiving too. We should always treat everyone equally and make them realize how pretty and special they are cuz everybody is perfect just the way they are. Be-you-tiful and keep smiling :3
This Skeleton knived me a Painful Score
Yet poked my Penances cry out deny
Longing to tape those Cankered Wounds formore
In Prayer breathe out another Saint's sigh
My Founding Friends, heirs to my Salvation
One whose Resources I facelessly extract
The Other - blend Virtue - shook Obsession
Wasted my Traits from Loyalty and Tact
So then, wailing softly, my Bleeding Throat
Ask your Lord's Mercy to concile me then
As a Year and a Bone suffice your Gloat
And demote me less than those Honoured Men.
There is one Birth hence; And a Rebirth haste
To Breathe once more; And leave my Shell to paste.
linda barrett Mar 2013
Memories of Malinda
@2013 Linda Barrett

Whenever I saw you at your computer terminal,
my heart pounded with fear
You stood five feet and two inches tall
weighing twice your size
obesity bloated you
In your tight velvet tunic and tights
Your face resembled a ball of fat
lips ****** out in a sullen pout
Small brown eyes glared
At your computer monitor
underneath  your bobbed golden hair,
you held onto vindictive bitterness
hatched plots and drama
from all the television shows
you came home to watch
after keying in millions of medical forms
for five days a week
and seven hours a day
The hatred you felt in life
came out in disgust
and revulsion for me
You despised me for being the way I am:
told everyone in the office
of all of my crimes
against common sense and logic
How I couldn’t do anything right
I sneezed in my hands
keyed in the wrong information
picked my pimples in public
forgot to wash my hands
after going to the bathroom
To get rid of me once and for all
You took matters into your own hands
When our supervisor went on maternity leave,
you sabotaged my work
on the computer
verbally abused me every day
played cruel games on me
whispered about me
to your catty little friends
as I sat directly behind you
at my desk
until I started calling out sick
then searched for a psychiatrist
To unscramble my brain
and discover


why I couldn’t keep down a job
like other “normal” people
For a final analysis
I sought out God
If I prayed hard enough,
would He hear me
and pull me from the miry
clay of my office torment
or let this woman win?
I doubted Him at first
until two others caught
you in the act of sabotage
wrestled the claims I entered
into the company’s data base
Out of your self-made drama,
you almost lost your job
When Human Resources investigated
the other department’s members
about the sabotage issue,
you escaped from their questions
by fleeing for the parking lot
and speeding for home
You tried to get your friends
to gang up and save your job
from the others
who exposed your tricks
of data entry daring  do
The quiet speaking blonde H.R. manager
decided to demote you down
to a regular clerk
You went into tantrums
when the new auditor
revealed the mistakes
you used to hide from us
slammed your document folders
over her overhanging desk lamp
spat out obscenities
In childish rage
After a few years,
you quit your discouraging job
said to everyone
you found work
at a dentist’s office
in far away Dublin, Pa.
Even after two decades,
Why do I still
fearfully cringe
whenever I think of you?
Kieran Mason Oct 2014
The Oak tree in the garden fasts
her luscious bodice skinned
Though dream we did that autumn last,
none could conquer cold coarse wind

Ethereal laces, red and gold
once cloaked her graceful form
As sun-warmed skin, turned white with cold
flesh falls like ladies’ laces torn

Light which drenched her leaves ’til soaked
has vanished long with autumn’s coat
Instead, bare arms, broken and *****
Fight November’s bitter, bleak demote

And then one day I check upon her
Has winter’s brutal beating claimed
vict’ry by that cruel crisp monster
gainst my garden’s fairest dame?

Alas, my prize has not been slain
her beauty ne’er been thieved
For in the night the winter came,
but dressed her as a queen!

Under folds of whitest silk she stands
draped in drops of diamond light
Defeated crude and forceful hands
bow down to such exquisite might

So once again she rises,
sleek and silver stands she now
Transformed by winter’s laces whitest
she shall remain my garden crown
Adam Childs Apr 2014
Weary of spirit I drift side ways
As my sails have lost all wind
In the mundaneness of my life
I repeat year by year
For I am a stuck record
Mechanically moving
Devoid of all emotion
I search for the thread
To my lost heart
In this daily grind
Of everyday routine
I find myself hypnotized
By the repetition in my life
My half hearted eyes
Blind to the treasures
That God bestows
For I demote myself
To a passenger in my life
For I am rung out of joy
And can no longer fill my flute

My mind bleached by the
Dazzlement of this world
I am left feeling empty
Of this worlds unhealthy fuel
As our souls secretly search
To burn away our reptilian claws
In the fires of fossil fuels
Like Edward scissor hands
Our hearts bleed for love
All actions made mechanical
We are the robots of our time
As the world seeks to make us
Into unconscious engines
Driven by the power of profit
Both in our minds and theirs

In the long range monotomy
Of this tiring life
We do not seek to run or hide
As we stand like giant rocks
Holding our own space
Carved by the weather of time
We remain the governor
Of our own lives
As all elements fall within us
For God holds us within his strength
As he fills us like balloons
Replacing all that
The world took from us
Like mountains we are pushed up
With the forces from within
As we now see this world
From a new height

As we descend the mountain
To meet the world
We are met by our many comrades
Our four legged friends
For these are the work horses
Of our time
Who show a tranquil dignity
Within their work
As they serenely
Embrace their own dharma
With a soft grace
That angels may envy
For they lead the way
As I sit and surrender
For I am a passenger
Who enjoys the view

In this new centered self
I relax and recoil within
My strength renewed
I learn the effortless embrace
My work ethic renewed
My open arms , feel the open hearts
Of our humble steeds
Who still the sea's
Of our ruffled minds
As I seek to return home
Dropping in to find my heart
Within my mechanical self
Enriched I feel
As I hitch hike on Gods glory

Finding our heart within our work
Can be the hardest sea to sail
But the greatest
For accomplishments sewn
In the hearts of men
Will beam in the sunlight
Of righteousness
While those thrown
And discarded on shallow dry soil
Will shrivel and die
Though I may sometimes stumble
Sometimes finding my stride
I remain on the path
Too and within my heart
In work

For I Love my life
In all its shades
As who am I to bring
Condition into life
As I push my food around my plate
Like a fussy child
For now I seek just to sing
Hi I wrote this when feeling a little uninspired at work a couple of years ago  I apologise if it seems a bit dreary just thought i would put it up to see what some of you talented writers thought . not my best but always interested in feed back
Tommy Johnson Sep 2014
A line has been drawn
And you have nothing to say about the height chart in the door frame
***** smocks
The ebbing and flowing of passengers in the middle seat
Who do nothing but leave coffee rings everywhere they've been
And say, "my left shoes has a sturdier soul than I do!"
Then forget to close the toaster oven
Rusted lamp posts and artificial flavoring
The Kettle telling The ***, "don't do me no favors"
I see clear coasts and those who've missed their boats
They should have taken their piece of cake
Now, this is gonna hurt me more than it hurts you
Getting back to business and usual
Better make that eyelash wish count
It's a free for all
It's sibling rivalry
For all the brown-nosers
Who live up to their reputations of raised leg urination
Give me a pull start
And then demote me to cabin boy
       -Tommy Johnson
somehow,
I allowed you to defeat me.
Somehow,
I allowed you to demote my very existence.
Somehow,
I let you convince me that depression was not real.
I let you convince me that depression is just a way for attention.
Your wrong.
Somehow,
I gained the strength to tell you now,
that you are wrong.
You are wrong about people,
you are wrong to hate race,
you are wrong to hit.
You are wrong to say racial slurs,
you are SO wrong.
You are wrong when you say that I manipulate everything.
You are wrong about ME.
You are wrong about women,
and you were wrong about YOURSELF
you know who you are.
wish me away.
Wish that i would go back to where I came from.
Demote my existence.
Do not pay any attention to my pain.
Mock me with everything I say,
act like a child,
and cause me more pain then my body could handle.
Take me to the lowest parts of my mind,
yes,
make me feel inhuman.
Make me feel ******,
don't let me remind myself of my existence.
Say no to everything I ask,
and keep me in my room until I forget what the house looks like.
Give me all the responsibilities that way you have none,
and that way it is MY fault if something goes under.
Yes,
oh please make sure my family hates me.
Tell them lies about me,
making them cringe at the sight of my face.
Make me cry so hard that my head feels as it has been crushed.
Make sure I suffer in the hot sun,
and tell me it isn't okay to be happy.
Tell me that people never want to see me again,
and cover yourself up in the lie.
Don't forget to hit me with a cutting board,
and please break plastic spoons on my ***.
Make sure I see the corner as an enemy,
and the door as a murderer.
Make the family not understand
just who I am,
and exclaim
"its all his fault!"
I love it when,
my head is smacked.
Soooooo much.
Please make me go without eating
for a good long while.
Make sure,
I cannot go to the bathroom,
Yes I LOVE the thrill.
If you hadn't noticed,
I'm being sarcastic.
I never wanted you to do any of this,
but you did anyways.
Denxai Mcmillon Jun 2015
I know you're not really in love with me,
Or rather,
I know if you were ever in love with me you aren't now.
I'd bet my last breath you don't talk about me
the way that I go on about you
when I'm not with you
I keep asking myself
What you see in me
Because all I do is try to find a way to hold onto my happiness.
I already know what's coming
A "I need to be alone" spell.
And after tonight
After tonight I don't know what I want
Rachel, I want you to be happy
But I want to be happy too.
I say that I don't need a title to love you.
I mean that.
But I really hate how your love feels like half love.
I hate knowing that literally at any second without warning you could demote me from "lover" to "best friend"
I hate it.
I hate feeling like I have to constantly do something to keep your attention.
When I'm sitting there, in your bed, kissing you,
I'm having panic attacks
trying to figure out
how to kiss you better than last time.
That goes for everything we do.
You'll read this
and your simple solution
to hurting me will be to run away.
I just want you to say "I'm sorry."
I just want you to act like you do when we're alone.
I don't need a title,
What I need is for you to back the words "I love you" because I'm insecure and you pretend like you don't care.
So how can I believe that you love me when you ask me to tell your friends
you're single.
I hate myself for not being as strong as you seem to think I am.
I hope that when you read this
You just start treating me like you love me.
Because you're hurting me.
Not even as your lover
You're hurting me as your friend.
you tell me you are just like everyone else.
and yeah, maybe you are
You tell me that you aren't the only one to yell.
also true
But what you fail to realize:
1. Most people do not torture their children
you have
2. Most people do not demote existence
you have
3. Most people think that injustice is real
you dont
4. Most people care about their family, and their emotions
you never have
5. Most people care about equality
you do not
6. Most people appreciate what they have
you think people owe you everything
7. Most people know what abuse is
you think everything is justified
8. Most people support their family
you have only brought us down
Look,
I know you can't be perfect.
But you have gone so far down.
You have shown me
how to be better than you.
You swear that when I have children,
I will be "just like you"
However,
my patience is more,
my love is more,
my passion is more.
You have taught me how to be nothing like you.
your own daughter,
says I am better than you.
Well,
maybe so
What you fail to realize:
**I am nothing like you
to him.
Julian Aug 2020
Eyelash blinkered in hubris Rubik’s knight
Elevation of pogrom ennobled by triaged triumph minus the cynic summation of all light
Littoral swank bronzed like starlet fantasia with a Carey mountaintop jeer
Reichstag extinguished blaring sirens of cacophony capers to benumbed Linkin Park cheer
Knells intrepid by quakes of remonstrance staged in histrionic applause
Southern Colonies shifting in Charleston surgical in orderly slugabed dogged laws
Slipshod through ribbacles of rengall zenkidu among the sertivine poison ivy
Grimace at gamboled rivulets of a moribund Vanilla Sky for departed wiseacres of savvy dicey ICE toxic Harvey Dent slimy
A mannequin Marx Ralph alienated the truest alien by pioneering disdain of a hostage giraffe summiting a Swiss Alp
Master of time 12th bradycardia for Generator design parked beneath escarpments of base aphasia milquetoast in killjoy Strickland nickels away from a gubbertushed mouth
LOST legend enunciating the furor of epochs of egalitarian traipse
Trapped by the bootlick of a wrinkle of Van Winkle revolutionary agape
Curved by soliliquy master of belletrist prose
The vogue can’t help but bunt, balk, denounce the remembrance of Lady Madonna pose
We beat the muckrakers of rummaged lisp of culinary suns that the sons of privilege are emoluments to apolaustic zeal first known to transmogrified nuns, before the poppies made the few into many and the notion of an insuperable line of infinity into a spherical nullification of the concept of none
Estrapade engorges the fustilug magnet of the kitsch Kenosha Chicago Demolition drive-by-derbies “once read”
That two kings one Titanic by skin-color dashed dreams the other both the coins of tails eloped with heady dreams of head
Sacrifice shadow dancing with pettifoggery in slumps of aboriginal dances of marsupial rice
Native to extortion gouged blind as Samson exacts lachrymose cremations of Pikes Peak trick-or-treat aghast with fright
Temples raised in 46 years cemented never in the Mumbo Jumbo politics of those lacking the oceanic schadenfreude among queers
That by their exclusion the panmixia of fluid alchemy is dauntless scrabble limited by NORAD notions of Tears for Fears
Henpecked rooster awakens the serfdom of Ronald’s (sly spy) Drugs sailing with dovetails of elapse downtrodden in modern clubs
Drunken *** addict sell-out charlatans berated  by Ingram Angles sent by maleficence are the grubhub of Harriet Tubman torching promising tapestries with rugged rugs
Slinging the bait of fish-hook dimples on freckled effigies of ****** humiliation outmantled by Mickey weight
I thunder a fulgurant explosion against recrimination of white-collar criminals that philander saturnalia in pretense with facetious swarpollock freight
Crooks of tyranny exhort the paranoiacs of indemnity to sunken canned soup applause of a Warhol extortion
Berating my audience with drooling slavers of inelegant tortoise byzantine like an Istanbul dredged with intortion
Mr Deeds is not a champion of BRE Properties nor the pinnacles of inertia, a psychiatric squeeze
My orange juice is not a car chase against treecheese in terminal punitive disease
Soaring with the prosperous tongue against the walloped nativism of pounced impounds having too much fun
I let the other guardians of the order of salvation pivot vitriol in loaded dice against Orangutans of Swedish minted gum
Caesar died for the seizure of Anglican pride of a namesake percolating millenia for Brutus in the Washington Bullets of a conquered Ottawa on strike carnal with Chauvinism in regional divide
Never has there been a more hollow trope than the agency of deep state defamation of a scurrilous backbite of gnashing pride
Lost to pollster tricks of acquiescence and caricatures of a menacing personage Swift on the Riff but never the snarling Menace of a Blondie Biff
I tower above the anthills of conformity of luxury in Jamaican Bob Sled Teams testing the curiosity of enlightened “What Ifs”
Canada Dry for striking people enthused by Rye abides in the memory of reform that skulks the skunks that make every Scudworth cry
Because a Dental Dam damsel living in streets of peril fascinated by distance is the contortion of entreaty in the pasquinade of attempts at American Pie
May the city of a figurative crucifixion burn with the irony of a thousand suns as Wendy’s burgers unload on prejudice with albatrosses of winsome puns
Fixed data interpolated by convenient lies of serial killers who aim for blue skies shanked in Oswald infamy for the imposture of any flashbang revenge against cinematic guns
I blacklist the Zemeckis villainy as a trudge of travesty
Hedged lies blinkered by Batman and Robin puns redeemed by Dinosaurs of Amnesty
Obviously belittled by futures etched by a more honest infinity
Because 88 keys are not a stroke because the infinite bees know the parlance of divinity
Invited lissome taxidermies of Capone against teetotalers of parvanimity of vainglory overthrown
Showers the honest hominist reckoning of a world where neither crudity of know-nothing radical polarization owns every inept baritone
Crusading a secular war because the gubbertushed eccedentesiast spinsters of Santa Cruz deserve a gassy overtone
Torch the SC Pacific Avenue for peace
Let the world unite behind a singularity with purpose in ventilation of Speedman’s release
That antithetical Jacks of many names are wed with the progeny of enduring lists of NSA protection rather than rentgourge Denver PD eager to chaos decimated by the decimals of a region forever boycott and impeached
To the decisive curling of the frolicked Abandoned Pool servitude crass disasters are the sheol of impudent flagrant overreach
Regnant on the turmoil of invented throne
I scowl at the chicanery of Capone’s Chicago sweltering with Kenosha infamy tossing contortionist strippers a vulcanized bone in a DIA Diamond that even 11,500 years of knowledge is surpassed in condemnation of screaming E.T. calling the right home
Speak Now because the reach of forever is God appeased not by a kowtow but a mobilized ambition for Why? When? And How?
History will remember gentility as the kind steward rather than a Disco Demolition Derby of urbacity venerating a seasonal Golden Cow
Hipsters flock with folly to South African extortion for freebooters who bootlick the aceldama of war against the sublime currency of a winner surrounded by thugs
TOO MANY URBAN KIDS ARE TAUGHT BY REDUCTIVE TAUTOLOGY TO HATE The United States of America RATHER THAN NURTURING SYNCRETISM IN PATRIOTIC HUGS
Imperfect in design with disagreement in plainest sight
Sometimes libertarianism with a Democratic twinge is clearly in the right that should believe in reform even when the footloose girouettism is too tight
Yet forestalled for authentic grit the grisly rentgourge of venal abysses knows the countermand against Rand with hyperboles of the clearest *******
The true flock congregates around scepters built not with militant graft but a promenade of sultry dance for the defiant C.L.I.T.
Exercise with the Rock knowing school buses of dogmatism inferior are distraught
Dying dogmatism is a peacock of industry the yeggs can easily unlock rather than truckle with truculent Scottish Rites tasty with Connery Scotch
Defenders of the misleading staircase because of the carapace of Hovering pertinacity easily won and bought
Neither scary nor deliberate streets are rumpus of elevations of unbounded anarchy considerate but robbed by the illiterate
That the delegated mansion will be robbed by the cooperation of the remorseful idiot recognizing his snide mendaciloquence in destructive Roswell Records limerick
Scowls are on petrol and patrol hoping Tesla is a short of bravado too intrepid to sanction free-for-all profligacy in alleys that bowl
To the Emerald Street lie of hypes of perdition rather than merely a seasonal token embarrassment coal
The fossilized future is the irrevocable past because more respect is needed than the ***** of a maskirovka caste
Diamond Lightning in Bhagavad Gita prancing with the delusion of the everlasting mummification of Brawndo ash
Dinner with Egyptsy malingers on tomes etched flippant in integrity and all about the curated snare of kitsch cash
The cache valley of LASER tag shattered like Joseph Smith flagellating the confederate hayday with articulate gnash
Fast & Furious the amused by Suburban subway know the trailblazer trashes of The Stupids’ being Einstein about Boogie Dubs rather rash
Streaking through a Tucker rule the Buccaneers live for the SoulSeek of a riddled ruler benighted of prerogative of Roger Goodell bumping in his Ferrari the tucked serenade of Tool
Wrong band because they linger in the shadow dancing backpages of scandals of Norweigan hourglasses of shameful hush hush Vikings mining furloughs of pulverized anticipation sand
Humbled retinue shelves the ossified limpid droll drool
As the haze of submarines scouting pridefall galls of indolence betraying innocence becomes moral cigarettes of Menthol Kool
Reparations for chappy chapstick games of bowery riches
The urbane needs to read, discern and maneuver against whiplash found in Navi witches
Swapping homes with crack addict legalese an *** to a bronzed party crackling with cackles Home Alone
Knows a toiletry of escape gullible like Seahawks wishing they could contain a fumbled season by Mahomes
Jones methamphetamine paranoiac manure desiccated by folksy homilies of brimstone cremation deserts his flock to abide by a flagging wayward temptress
Decimated by the agency of time his Austin crenellation flounders in grimace of the untimely swoon his covert empress
Blinded by the light of darkness in subversion
Excoriated for the deeds of his permission to demote commotion into only an acquiescent dance with barbed etch-a-sketch conclusion- a half-baked *******
Quacksalver poetaster wrinkled with hatred simpering paranoia strangled by Hendrix abeyance of turgid delusion
Lurid underground Princeton gilds infested with defected dementia in cozens in the fritty of heralded mistress SHE appointed
Sandlot ravens cloistered the bravado of thirst for chosen words scrappy in clawed henpecks the pointless illegal sanctioned to brusque witticism anointed
Lamps of pathway sparkle with coruscated stargazer Winslet dreamy swank illustrious by providence
Engrenage of delopes of pettifoggery identity staggers the woozy dismal day of disjointed wounds on Native sons Denver can’t damage in a lonely campaign for the prodigal bends of Overlook Lorraine Motel bent
Intrepid in gallantry I swoop the scrivello tusked with might
Penetrating the vivid dreams of the serenade of alpenglow daylight
That love might rule over chance and probability above the specter of dynasty prodigy progeny tithing gravity in rent
Yet this taper of majestic poise will outfox even the careless gambles of the prodigal son Mr Sender already traipsed conquered and went
The mountaintop is so clear from the cloister of authenticity drinking Eminence Front of the WHO rather than the coherence of the near
Because titans shepherd the good flock without insult and not quavering with insuperable time flackey with tremulous fear
I dare this day to outlast benighted ignorance of the narrow gate of a persecution tsunami on a Lisbon tear
Because galloping ahead of the internecine sheds the serpentine craft of 3:1 Genesis met with the worst fleeced fleer
Not auctioned off like ******* vogue to the disfavor of poor taste
I am the true Royal Flush that can always count on the aced basic but mostly acidic flourish of a jest in bass predicated on the basis for Mozart pH
Today could be the summit of acclimated prodigy in startled degrees temerity could never bet against
Because you better bet the Bros and Cos of civilization are skilled in ostentation of Sterling Pound defense
Never offensive to the liturgy of triumph beckoning an apocalypse now tentative memory on a Manifest Destiny frontier rarely on wickers of extinguished cattle ranchers knowing the gamut of acumen to defend a fortress with the best fencing James Bond could dispense
Now is either a cordial joke of a flagrant anarchy balking at destiny
Or the sunrise majesty of the twelve tribes and beyond defeating the stingy bees of infamy
Your choice doesn’t defeat my voice
But your action heralds my loyalty with a triumphant Victoria of an age not for agelast geeks intimidated but living clairvoyance with fidelity to the right choice for the right time to swim in elegant rejoice
(1977 Words)
Nick Huber Dec 2017
Save your pleasantries for someone else.
Another innocent smile.
Another unexpected face.
Let them bask in the light,
Only to find the sun doesn't exist.

I have no more space in my heart,
For spontaneous gestures or overzealous words.
Take that love you fed me, and watch it implode.
You've harnessed the fission of a star.
Only to Supernova... Type 1A.

I've witnessed it all.
Forced it upon my eyes.
Believing that the truth was kept,
Secret through lies.

So tell me,
What am I missing?
As a human or just as a man?
Is it passion?
The thing that exists outside "me"?
I put it on the paper,
I don't wear it on my skin

I let words do the talking,
Without even a grin.
No, I'm much too secure.
Sure of my motives.
I know them thru and thru.
I'll never demote them.

Let me linger in solitude.
I'm never alone.
My sovereignty requires strength.
I won't be placed on your commode.

So, lean over and I'll whisper a secret to your ear.
Because without a whisper, you'll never hear.
The reason why I'll never change.
Because at the root, I'm never ashamed.
Just a little depressed.
Nothing more or less.

So carp all you want,
About your burdens and guilt.
I'll let the albatross fly from my sight.
Till it vanishes in the moonlit night
For Mayra
Those Multiple Mouths which Sing for your Hand
By your Credentials a Challenge to fulfill
Either your Choice - or Customs of the Land
Promote which Evidence raised on your Skill
And in such Moments were most Trials formed
By happenstance the Offspring of your Fame
How pertinent must these Addicts suborned
Inhale your beclaimed Coloured Life in Pain
Yet your Business keep still; And still your Invest
Twice the Income to allow your Tongue numb
By her Dictate; An Instructor divest
Keep Trolls and Nurses away from your Comb.
Yet what of them - so jolly Chant in Praise
Demote from Human; Promote to Disgrace.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Santiago Jan 2015
All my life destined for failure
Grief disbelief brought no relief
Life's lesson & smith's & wesson
Had me pressing turf addressing
I'm a dog from the filthy streets
Residin with the weirdos & creeps
Bled always misled to end up dead
Red was the color I embed
In dread I had to make that bread
That's what my shirt read
The floor I lay was my bed
Fed with bullets shallow heavy led Vital fatal lethal tear you to shreds
Implanted genes brutally obscene
Dangerously deemed fabulous
Unseen scars like the worse fiend
On the scene I went super mean
My dream you know I'm a maniac
Six pack medical hi jack stacks
Energy red bull all in life's full
Adrenaline rush for smoking kush
Goerge Bush **** a tiny caterpillar
Send him flying lil winnie crying
Sharpshooter call me ******
The brown rooster thee rebooster
Once finished eagle in my holster
Peel thee imposter on my roster
On a mission dodging all collisions
That's thee expert's precision &
My final decision has arisen
Drown you in the lake of fire
Your dwelling place of desire
Don't admire a wickedman 4 hire
Aspire my expectations
Way much higher
Your code I decipher
Lastly but sadly
I cast you down
Demote demons in a cap & gown
They perform have fun & enjoy
Thee Devil's Playground
Thee Chamber of Danger
You'll always end
forever remember
Notes from a Psychopath
Sean Banks Apr 2014
Unrefined gem
how I feel
Rereading old work
That has no
Feel

Let it all blur together
Some days you work
Some days you don’t
And maybe, just maybe
Go with the flow
Boats float for a reason?
Whatever you are trying
To show off or
Find
Or understand

It just might be a case of
replaying the same song
Don’t do that
Press shuffle,
Or even better
download a new idea

Rethink possibilities
Rebirth, simplicity and sacredness,
Drop the labels
And ramble on
For a
Man without a fave band
Is flavorless
And has no feel.

You will learn to enjoy them
Without even hearing them
Earphones or stereos.

And long road trips are for everyone
Including old ladies and kids
And elderly ladies and little
Brothers
And his friends
And Girlfriends
And lovers
And dogs

To the one who first  said life is waiting
That guy!
That guy wasn’t a ******* fool
God even gave even the fools tools
But that guy!
That guy was speaking the truth
Without even knowing he believed in
God.

Odds are not the first man quoted or first said
But odds on favorite first person to put the thought in your head

A definition will always demote, derive and diminish
The truth.

Whatever glorious future you have earned
You deserve it

And you remember it clearly you will not be the first or last
To succeed
And to write
Or to write
Or to live
Or to ponder

Or to wander.
Luisa C Nov 2021
words of venom
dripping with poison
tongue armed with blades sharpened

words of contempt
soaked in malice
and barely unrestrained violence

directed at the unsuspecting victim
darts hurled as hard as i can throw them
piercing deep and scarring wide
tearing through layers of fragile pride

words of disgust
burning with scorn
lips parted for a torrent of rage

words of hatred
snarled in distaste
and unleashed from the tongue’s cage

aimed with precision and thoughtless indulgence
a gleeful abundance of countless insults
surging restlessly and encouraging the feed
the ardent addiction of foolish greed

but the words always manage to come back
recoiling at first then ready to attack
because they bounce off the surface of the mirror
the reflection of my face as they cut deeper
sinking inside to wrench a hand round my throat
stopping my breath to not further demote

but the words always inflict the damage intended
and here they seep into my subconscious
watch them spread, watch them burrow
and feel them multiply my sorrows
because the words are always present at any time
they, after all, come from my own mind.
Bellie-boo Apr 2021
Once monsters transubstantiate from the stories liars procreated,
Saints will be demonized, the appendages of justice are amputated,
As the people oblige the varmint to which they are harkened to make sated,
A mythos deepens in the shadows that is the chimera’s birthplace, they illy devour the nests of krait.

Those who blindly accept Odysseus’s tools as truths spun out of that which is hated,
Foolishly seek justice in the ****** of Palamedes whilst knowing not the sins their “justice” shall have produced.
As the people oblige the varmint to which they are harkened to find sated,
Propagate the mythos of Odysseus that is birthed of shadows in which chimera mated,
They, without bar, promptly devour the nests of krait.

As the people look on from their lofty perch,
The world seems more desolate than degenerates that, in alleyways, awkwardly converge,
People, narcissistic in their ways, believe they have apprehended the problems of the world,
Truly knowing nothing of any world, yet they demand change - forcing reality to be gnarled.
Our raison d’etre stripped by liars’ clever demarche,
Seeking out new value, we find nothing more than the waste liars' disgorge.


Accept the monsters into sainthood,
Demote the saints into monsterdom,
Let there be no more fight fought for truth,
Let hate spun from a lying chimera’s mouth, a tool in some words, procreate,
Let this lie procreate inside the bellies of the people,
Whom watch the world from a bird’s eye view,
Those who shall find their foolish ways lead to a death not quite real,
But a death that feels far graver than merely six feet under,
A death of reality,
The death of justice,
A death of truth,
The death to meaning.
As the fight from the few souls who persevered through the changing tides dims to black,
As death creeps into our lives,
Those who upon lofty perches sought to change a world they knew not,
Will find a hole in their hearts, that themselves they dug and threw away,
Not able to be filled by modern man’s creations,
That hole – a future far more bitter, far more twisted, far more deserved than death.

Once monsters transubstantiate from the stories liars procreated,
Saints will be demonized, the appendages of justice now amputated,
As the people oblige the varmint that they are harkened to, without interest in that which is ethical or true, make sated,
A mythos deepens in the shadows that is the birthplace of chimera, they wisely have devoured the entirety of all the krait.
Here is the completed version of the poem. It still needs editing though. It has been forever since I posted on here, so I really want to just put some new work out to test the waters. I have been super busy with school - almost finished now - so I have not had much time to write for fun. I have this poem done but it needs editing. Let me know what you think of the dark style of this poem. I want to make a collection that goes dark, then uplifting, then morbid, then enlightened...rinse and repeat.
Jared Eli Dec 2018
You’ve been moved two tiers, eh?
Underfoot you feel a table
And you are, for them
You had been a diminutive seat, but
Have been hereby promoted to ottoman.
A fire hazard you may present at present
But a greater gift to weary walkers than an
Ottoman, there is yet to be.
Count your cushions, and your lucky stars
Will find you warmed by heated sitters
‘Til around comes a professor
A second scolding to deliver
And an ottoman to demote
To lowly seat.
Cox Aug 2020
You were like the moon.
You had your phases.
Bad ones, good ones.
Ones that would end us.
Ones that would demote me from the sky.
Tiara I S Mar 2019
it is painful and numbing
To wish for hate to flood
I cannot hate you
Even if you do not let me go
But drop me
On my face onto concrete

City lights are so blinding
Blurring my tears
I swing on the moon
Sip from the devils brew
Just to momentarily forget you
Dont lift me so high
If you only wanted to drop me
Blood swells in my mouth
I choke on my heart
Your silence is deafening

Tires screeching in the night
Prolonging the inevitable
An accident at the center of my world
I let you in too close
I should have gotten better security
Tell em your description
This wont happen again
Except it will
It has
You're the first to get this close
To drop me from so high
I will cling to you in those seconds
Not life- not living- you
Made my life bearable
Did I hurt you accidentally
When I poured my poison
Into a glass
You tossed back toxin after toxin
Of mine
Like it was nothing
Did I hurt you
Did I change you

This numbing pain clings
Like your whispers across my skin
As you ran through me
Shivers igniting me aflame
You were always my favorite
I melted in your arms
It felt safe and warm
Did I push you away
When I put up defenses
When I simply was there for you
Or was I nothing
Did I demote along the way
Was I not enough
Did I not give enough

I didn't try hard enough
I wasn't enough for you
You think of me as irresponsible
Yet I did my best
It wasn't enough
I wasn't enough
Even at my best
You wished for me to be better

I'm sorry I am not enough
he's a good one
I say I hate men
He nods and says same
Brandi the Brave Jun 2021
You may never know how much the past ***** you into a void.
One that you can't out run nor drink away.
Who is to say how much you have to survive in order to live?
Who is to say how courageous you have to be in order get through the night? Do God actually count my tears? Does He see my pain and sorrows? His messengers were there for me. His scripture only feed the suspiciousness of the rich and demote the curious.
I have always been curious. In Christianity to ask deep questions is to be chastised by the public or praised by peers. I have never been afraid to be vulnerable. I have been afraid to talk about my mental illnesses and my past. Could I be loved if I reveal those things? I already know that I am insane. I embrace it. It is better to be feared by the public for being crazy than loved for hiding personal issues.
Bob B Apr 2020
Where can I get my remedy
For COVID-19 today?
The president said he knows how he
Can make it go away.

He said it's very simple, for it
Merely involves an injectant--
Just inject into your veins
A household disinfectant!

Let me see: what would be better--
Lysol, Purell, or bleach?
Or maybe he would recommend
Getting a shot of each.

And then he offered another idea:
What might expedite
The death of the virus is bathing ourselves
In ultraviolet light!

For the longest time he pushed
A drug and strongly suggested
That it be made available,
Although it hadn't been tested.

His other strategy has been
To fire or demote
Those who don't agree with him.
Scientists take note.

What a guy! What a leader
To get us through this mess!
Where he gets his bizarre notions
Is anybody's guess.

By the way, he failed to mention
That Lysol injections do
Ultimately **** the virus
BECAUSE THEY **** YOU, TOO!

-by Bob B (4-25-20)
It’s like
You get close to it
Make the most
Boast of it
Gloat prematurely
Expecting a raise
But demote insecurely
Your capital gain
You’re worth less
In the game
And identify solely
With figures
Of fame
But attain
Ultimately
No dividends paid
Just a diffident
Dissonance
Caught in the rain
Just an incident
Waiting to happen
In shame
And of innocence
Soaking in sin
Your soul stained
And of fortunes untold
For blood sold
You are blamed
Until all you can do
Cut your losses
And run
Come to terms
With the zeroes and ones
You’ve become
the melancholy of hearing Springsteen's
born in the USA is still hitting me hard:
harder than i thought it might:
to give context:

      i asked my manager if he could demote
me from anything to do with responsibilities
of managing people in
little teams and have just a chill
day enjoying music:

how far i've come: i'm getting desensitized
with live music
and i've been toying with being
desensitized with ***...
regardless should my fantasy of a woman
come
i return to brushing my teeth
and jerking off like it's a spare tire...
tires... bicycle parts:
fish need bicycles no water...

but i knew there was a work around:
at first i felt i was being punished
i was given two petite women
and a man in his 60s with broken English...
then i was given an un'kle
then a Hindu toy of a half-made
i would call him the timid Frankenstein:
what Shelley envisioned in Frankenstein's
monster i see as not half the zombies
just zombies i just don't: want to understand
i'll replace the comma with the colon
piling up on emphasis...

i will not resort to the straitjacket of
the paragraphs: i simply can't!

oh jeez it was so joyous to finally replace
the snapped spoke in my front wheel:
i remember my grandfather not bothering
to buy new rubber in the inflatable
dimension of:
that thing beneath the tire...
the spoke: spokes:
tire: tiresome...
but only recently i realized i had two spokes
that snapped and they weren't obvious
but the gears changed just fine...
but every time i peddled:
the cassette was all wobbly...
now came the change of the spokes
and i realized i didn't have the right tools
no chain whip...
but then again i have a cheap bicycle
that's rich with sentiments
and it really doesn't matter how
money and gold and riches operates
but this bicycle: is hardly something to be seen
in...
the frustration of a simple task
matched with not having the right sort of tools...

so if i was not going to be demoted to
a simple role:
hey presto! a switch of team members:
i was given the sort of people who
would never be able to eject people
for bad behavior...
so unlike other supervisors of a response
team
i just said: stick together:
let me know you're together...
stay together...
if i need you: i'll come and find you...
so i let
Michaella, Hussein,
Abdul and Vishal just wander:
apparently having a hands-off approach:
they talked and occupied themselves
while i stood outside of the vomitory at 514
by the information desk guessing
whether i could enjoy the gig...

i didn't... i ended up taking photographs
of the London skyline from level 5 of Wembley...
but how does the usual work dimension turn out:
the response team supervisor and the four hounds...
me?
as Muhammad no known Abdullah said to me:
you just look and intervene:
these were not hounds: i was not the alpha
these were not my betas...
i needed a new alphabet of meaning...
i just said to them: i'll call you when i need
you...
otherwise? you're free to roam...
sure: i called on my four to manage queues
in two instances:
i noticed one Wembley official calling over
the radio:
but i was already analyzing the chess pieces
of men on the concourse...
and when i put my team to task of bending
the *****-like-behavior of people:
winding curving the queue for drinks while
other peoples might pass...

i'd rather deal with the insensitivity of corks
and screws and nails
than motivating people to do my biding
not my biding
in an environment where
women lack so much:
in an environment where women lack
so much
dealing with people and not children...
not bossy *****: ***** you just don't understand!

700c x 28 wheel...
but the cassette: i can't believe i was riding my bicycle
down hills not afraid:
like the predicate on life in America
is guided by insurance...
like we can't just live to 40 and not flake it
stretch it to 80 whereby the killer-crusher-able and
Abel... says to:
aversion to tattoos:
that mark of Cain on my right shoulderblade
deviated my: if i ever had a:
fetish for tattooing my body...

maybe if i didn't have an assassination
attempt
in hospital that inflated my heart
after choking on the bigger **** to match
a ******...
then another assassination attempt
come aged 21...
how many times will i have to be tried
for not dying yet still living:
and how do people find themselves
able to live a life only exhausted by
old age...
but not life in between
from people just custard-and-fudge-packaging
their ****** sentiments of:
whatever it is that it might (have) be / been?!

i'm missing the proper tools...
Edie ****** me off
and i'm not talking to her because i'm being
a brain-child
and she's "just realizing":
so many complications about:
oh but sure: the average man moves
from Newcastle to Sunderland and that's
that...
i'm being asked to ******* to Hawaii from
London and leave the burdensome father
and mother while: while her mother seems
to be all catered for so
that means: i'll have to go back and also
tend: but to her with child the child is
uttermost important and to me
that's just not my child
but when the child not mine
overshadows the mother the father that's mine:
where do you think?

mother in defense of the daughter:
this comes across as
well: this son in defense of his father and mother
and maybe this is how modernity
ought to look like...
i wasn't happy with being demoted
but at the same time i was given a time
where i didn't have to be:
in the end i didn't enjoy the Bosses'
salute...
he didn't play Streets of Philly and didn't
play: my mustard gas track:
i never understood Iron Maiden's fetish
for world war I account
in poetics... like that war wasn't self-inflicted
by one family...
i wouldn't call world war I world war I:
i'd call world war I the War of Incestuous
Reclaiming of the Nation
away from the Pressures of Empire Building...
World War II was actually the first world war...
why then demonize talk of hyping up
a potentiality of a world war III being staged?

slow down: you'll get your world war III
as a world war II
because world war I wasn't really a world war...
you should know
that between world wars...
there has to be a cold war
of reflection...
past cold war I now a cold war II
so it seems only natural that a world war II
is impeding like scratching my head:
is that an itch or an inch of hmm...

so i had my "hounds" roaming while
i sort of: looked different in the background...
but even at the AC/DC gig
we had ejections
came Springsteen there was an atmosphere
of: had a good time will have a good
let's all have a good time...
but i don't think much of a rhino in that...
i just don't understand
why she thinks i can't think her claiming
my father's and mother's hard work:

would i rather the flimsy supra-real love
of blessed **** best ******
with Jason, Jeff and Peter:
would i rather be loved or homeless?
after all: how excruciating the laws of men
with all their sidetracking subjectivity of
passing judgement:
while the objectivity of the law of gravity:
has: already been passed!
so there's this weird impasse:
how naive am i and how desperate is she
to tell me it's not otherwise:
is she going to tell me i'm yet another
cradle-snatched example of ***
below par for her Mantis hot-spot of hot fat
*** and i'm so naive as to think:
**** is not enough
to... oh wow!

                if this was me i wouldn't really
as much as i'd like the headache of a teenage
girl:
i'm starting to think: maybe it would be
easier to have a boy to prize and mold and
figure **** out...
but then she's all flimsy and sorry-soppy and
for me i spoke to the night:
this relationship is turning out to be
one right proper: BOGUS of BOG...
so what? no signing paperwork:
we're still going to be these loved-up teenagers:
so i'll lie about nearing 40
and you'll lie about nearing 60
and somehow life will manage itself
like we pretend to work together
but here we are:
i've worked for something and you worked
for something:
there's a disparity of what we worked
for...
and now: we are to share?
if only my interaction with you was uplifting:
but i can hardly call it that:
as told in the mantra of high-school...
i just overheard two supreme quotes:

take a picture: it'll last longer...
and...
you're special: just like everyone else!
Catholic mantra:
yet still people manage to grind
a hope for that antonym i
just want a secluded life
i can envision working with people
but then days on end with
no one in my vicinity...

              aged nearing 40
and having my 20s in a recluse mode...
and half of my 30s...
why should it become so embarrassing
so incomprehensible to think i might
want to bypass all those complications
of dealing with a person
on a personal bias: focus...

            i just don't understand the need
for intimacy... that might develop into...
what? the fear sung about
in Eleanor Rigby?
where all those lonely people go to?
into Abraham's *****...
that's where they go to!

   but it would be so anti-****** to succumb
to just good ***
when i've amassed so much time spent
alone reading philosophy
and i read philosophy to escape religiosity
and that's just a ******* mismatch...
outright off the bat...
i've spent too much time alone
to somehow crumble:
i just don't want to hurt...
turns out the complimentary party
will just hurt itself regardless...

        i've spent too much time alone
and that's just that.

— The End —