"denials" poems - Hello Poetry

"denials" poems

Flesh is heretic. My body is a witch. I am burning it. Yes I am torching ber curves and paps and wiles. They scorch in my self denials. How she meshed my head in the half-truths of her fevers till I renounced milk and honey and the taste of lunch. I vomited her hungers. Now the ***** is burning. I am starved and curveless. I am skin and bone. She has learned her lesson. Thin as a rib I turn in sleep. My dreams probe a claustrophobia a sensuous enclosure. How warm it was and wide once by a warm drum, once by the song of his breath and in his sleeping side. Only a little more, only a few more days sinless, foodless, I will slip back into him again as if I had never been away. Caged so I will grow angular and holy past pain, keeping his heart such company as will make me forget in a small space the fall into forked dark, into python needs heaving to hips and ******* and lips and heat and sweat and fat and greed.

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Flesh is heretic. My body is a witch. I am burning it. Yes I am torching ber curves and paps and wiles. They scorch in my self denials. How she meshed my head in the half-truths of her fevers till I renounced milk and honey and the taste of lunch. I vomited her hungers. Now the ***** is burning. I am starved and curveless. I am skin and bone. She has learned her lesson. Thin as a rib I turn in sleep. My dreams probe a claustrophobia a sensuous enclosure. How warm it was and wide once by a warm drum, once by the song of his breath and in his sleeping side. Only a little more, only a few more days sinless, foodless, I will slip back into him again as if I had never been away. Caged so I will grow angular and holy past pain, keeping his heart such company as will make me forget in a small space the fall into forked dark, into python needs heaving to hips and ******* and lips and heat and sweat and fat and greed.

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← ↕ → U text me dis I text U dat She dissed my dis I sent last Sat. U LOL’ed on down the list I sexted sixth— my 7th missed. U banned my width I booked your face U twittered on— She saved my space. U scrolled me down He tweeted smiles We USB’ed, recharging miles . . . U giga-bit encrypted files; I saved as mine and cached denials. In digital we re-erased, then Skyped our souls and interfaced.

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Sep 11, 2015

Sep 11, 2015 at 5:36 PM UTC

Cuneiform: Textual ***********

← ↕ → U text me dis I text U dat She dissed my dis I sent last Sat. U LOL’ed on down the list I sexted sixth— my 7th missed. U banned my width I booked your face U twittered on— She saved my space. U scrolled me down He tweeted smiles We USB’ed, recharging miles . . . U giga-bit encrypted files; I saved as mine and cached denials. In digital we re-erased, then Skyped our souls and interfaced.

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Just a wicked peacenik’n quick draw from the Paw Game of Thrones’n the Shah, cRussian bones of the law And still spewing the news like the red dragon’s maw When the baby-skull splitters want nuclear winter Ideal New Cold steel and send Chernobyl shivers Down Roman Republicans’ severed headlines Till there’s no more dead kids on for prophet front lines I’m in exile sharpenin’ [sic]kles in style Pyongyang’n Kuomintang climate denials Erasing their nation-hate racial profiles Outpacing their skinhead disgraces by miles Shell casin’ this place like the Nuremberg trials For Fords sellin’ swastikas stockpile bibles Defiled by Normandy tide genocidals Fresh meat off the boat spreadin’ Plague mercantiles I smile and **** ‘em with kindness Then grind Battle tax in my acid bath Salt Marchin’ prime Because WAR IS THE CRIME I’m the Clown Prince of Rhyme, Level 9 state of mind Like the state of Rakhine The Black Hand before time Runnin’ Africa’s Luciest Sky Diamond mine I’m the ronin alone in The monkey god shrine And my guile’s reprisal’s Versailles treaty signed Strippin’ pride from the Rhine ‘Till your Motherland’s mine Swine

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Apr 8, 2018

Apr 8, 2018 at 2:37 AM UTC

michael-marchese

Emissary of the Evil Empire

Just a wicked peacenik’n quick draw from the Paw Game of Thrones’n the Shah, cRussian bones of the law And still spewing the news like the red dragon’s maw When the baby-skull splitters want nuclear winter Ideal New Cold steel and send Chernobyl shivers Down Roman Republicans’ severed headlines Till there’s no more dead kids on for prophet front lines I’m in exile sharpenin’ [sic]kles in style Pyongyang’n Kuomintang climate denials Erasing their nation-hate racial profiles Outpacing their skinhead disgraces by miles Shell casin’ this place like the Nuremberg trials For Fords sellin’ swastikas stockpile bibles Defiled by Normandy tide genocidals Fresh meat off the boat spreadin’ Plague mercantiles I smile and **** ‘em with kindness Then grind Battle tax in my acid bath Salt Marchin’ prime Because WAR IS THE CRIME I’m the Clown Prince of Rhyme, Level 9 state of mind Like the state of Rakhine The Black Hand before time Runnin’ Africa’s Luciest Sky Diamond mine I’m the ronin alone in The monkey god shrine And my guile’s reprisal’s Versailles treaty signed Strippin’ pride from the Rhine ‘Till your Motherland’s mine Swine

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*In the chaos of the sea, moonlight and tears, for which my heart burns of letting you go unloved. In the calm of the storm, the days blur into one, for which my eyes haunt the denials of my beliefs. In the wintry mountains where our love was buried; in the fiery rivers, we lost, time past, but I'd love you still.*

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Mar 10, 2015

Mar 10, 2015 at 8:15 PM UTC

*In the chaos of the sea, moonlight and tears, for which my heart burns of letting you go unloved. In the calm of the storm, the days blur into one, for which my eyes haunt the denials of my beliefs. In the wintry mountains where our love was buried; in the fiery rivers, we lost, time past, but I'd love you still.*

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I cannot recall you gentle yet through your heavy love I have become an image of your once delicate flesh split with deceitful longings. When strangers come and compliment me your aged spirit takes a bow jingling with pride but once you hid that secret in the center of furies hanging me with deep ******* and wiry hair with your own split flesh and long suffering eyes buried in myths of little worth. But I have peeled away your anger down to the core of love and look mother I Am a dark temple where your true spirit rises beautiful and tough as chestnut stanchion against your nightmare of weakness and if eyes conceal a squadron of conflicting rebellions I learned from you to define myself through your denials audre lorde

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Apr 28, 2018

Apr 28, 2018 at 8:33 PM UTC

stephanie_saint

Black Mother Woman

I cannot recall you gentle yet through your heavy love I have become an image of your once delicate flesh split with deceitful longings. When strangers come and compliment me your aged spirit takes a bow jingling with pride but once you hid that secret in the center of furies hanging me with deep ******* and wiry hair with your own split flesh and long suffering eyes buried in myths of little worth. But I have peeled away your anger down to the core of love and look mother I Am a dark temple where your true spirit rises beautiful and tough as chestnut stanchion against your nightmare of weakness and if eyes conceal a squadron of conflicting rebellions I learned from you to define myself through your denials audre lorde

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Grow organic gardens, untainted seeds, saved and collected plow the dirt, rich red earth, autumn's bountiful birth food pure and wild, to eat - a way of life! we cannot thrive in unearthly soils in their poisonous, GMO field of spoils awaken from our sleeping denials autism, sickness born in the chemical fields all the killing of you and I

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Jun 24, 2014

Jun 24, 2014 at 11:11 AM UTC

The GMO field of spoils

Grow organic gardens, untainted seeds, saved and collected plow the dirt, rich red earth, autumn's bountiful birth food pure and wild, to eat - a way of life! we cannot thrive in unearthly soils in their poisonous, GMO field of spoils awaken from our sleeping denials autism, sickness born in the chemical fields all the killing of you and I

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<> you pout and defer, dancing backwards, claiming, blue is now blackened from underuse, incapable and incapacitating revival *saying eyes cannot see, distinctly, neither near or far, the tremble of love, forgot & distantly absent, but I know, a heart’s sensory muscles never die, though weaken they might, underused, un-exercised denying that inspiration no longer resides with in thy sensitivities, has fled, undercover of smoking forest fires all the diurnal hazards that invade, occupying my internal spaces once filled by poems you conceived, birthed, in a pleasured haze, came so fast, you bare recall agony accompanied, but not the ecstasy of the end resultant!* ***you know it’s you of whom I write, but, a note not shaming names, but messages countless private messages have I sent begging, beseeching, give me your gifts*** once more, you owe me not, though I oft irritate with my deafening pleas, yet only denials continue, my pleas ding but dent not, the tired fear of your exposition so speak to you plain, feed my soul selfish like in years gone past, there are holes in mine that require your elixir, creamy softness that moistens my face with tears of your words originating, astound, enfold** not later, not soon, not excusals, write for me NOW, WRITE FOR YOURSELF, but leave me not forsaken and thirst un-slackened,** Answer! To whom do you owe your poems?

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Jun 11, 2023

Jun 11, 2023 at 11:30 AM UTC

The Ink in Your Blood Never Dies! (To whom do you owe your poems?)

<> you pout and defer, dancing backwards, claiming, blue is now blackened from underuse, incapable and incapacitating revival *saying eyes cannot see, distinctly, neither near or far, the tremble of love, forgot & distantly absent, but I know, a heart’s sensory muscles never die, though weaken they might, underused, un-exercised denying that inspiration no longer resides with in thy sensitivities, has fled, undercover of smoking forest fires all the diurnal hazards that invade, occupying my internal spaces once filled by poems you conceived, birthed, in a pleasured haze, came so fast, you bare recall agony accompanied, but not the ecstasy of the end resultant!* ***you know it’s you of whom I write, but, a note not shaming names, but messages countless private messages have I sent begging, beseeching, give me your gifts*** once more, you owe me not, though I oft irritate with my deafening pleas, yet only denials continue, my pleas ding but dent not, the tired fear of your exposition so speak to you plain, feed my soul selfish like in years gone past, there are holes in mine that require your elixir, creamy softness that moistens my face with tears of your words originating, astound, enfold** not later, not soon, not excusals, write for me NOW, WRITE FOR YOURSELF, but leave me not forsaken and thirst un-slackened,** Answer! To whom do you owe your poems?

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I slept with her, my rapacious pen, took me in quiet vengeance in full on conjugation raken and taken, me, her overlording me now, her authorship, so long held in my maledom abeyance, a kept imprisonment, unleashing at last, a tongue lashing~leashing, de-spite my un-desirous craven lying supplications, excuses of innocence and accident, coincidence and conflation, ashes, ashes, denials incinerated, all fall down she wrote/stabbed upon my heartless chest, in the cheap crudités colors of a prisoner’s inking, “user of words mine, all mine” gathered up my innards of loose words, speculative notes & titles yet to be, born and kept hid in password protected silent back labor files, now hers, leaving me sputtering, unable to create, a homeless mute citizen, possession-less, helplessly hoping her hovering harlequin might relent, without any shelter, even a glimmering, a single aleph or bet she celebratory cackled and clawed, professed her reclamation ownership of all my poems predecessors, zola j’accusing that I, ripped from her forcibly, with no granted permission, her womanly touché of my scribing, warning of no more global warming for my unprivileged hands, daren’t try for pretenses of stolen legal guardianship, warning of a new, forced caining inscription, a tattooing of “thief” upon my 5 knuckled right ****** “plagiarist” boldly inked in back & blue upon my left palm I, predator, she, victim, of my now self-professed, admitted confess, she, my single victim, of a decade long serializing criminal coverup her parting poem a threatening, herein issued in this very verse, damning all who would falsely credit themselves, to suffer shame and an unimaginable curse, this, the newborn eleventh of ten commandments parting, she kissing my lips, even my emptied apertures, with warning bitings, she knew all my my numerous noms de guerre, no dead scrolls caves to hid in, and to be discovered some future day, and if ever marked as copyrighted, ’twas no tunneling escape, the exposed truth to be over-stamped upon all, upon each, in every language, ”copied right from the tongue of a woman!” and she would be wright...

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May 23, 2019

May 23, 2019 at 10:10 AM UTC

slept with my rapacious pen (she, full on conjugation)

I slept with her, my rapacious pen, took me in quiet vengeance in full on conjugation raken and taken, me, her overlording me now, her authorship, so long held in my maledom abeyance, a kept imprisonment, unleashing at last, a tongue lashing~leashing, de-spite my un-desirous craven lying supplications, excuses of innocence and accident, coincidence and conflation, ashes, ashes, denials incinerated, all fall down she wrote/stabbed upon my heartless chest, in the cheap crudités colors of a prisoner’s inking, “user of words mine, all mine” gathered up my innards of loose words, speculative notes & titles yet to be, born and kept hid in password protected silent back labor files, now hers, leaving me sputtering, unable to create, a homeless mute citizen, possession-less, helplessly hoping her hovering harlequin might relent, without any shelter, even a glimmering, a single aleph or bet she celebratory cackled and clawed, professed her reclamation ownership of all my poems predecessors, zola j’accusing that I, ripped from her forcibly, with no granted permission, her womanly touché of my scribing, warning of no more global warming for my unprivileged hands, daren’t try for pretenses of stolen legal guardianship, warning of a new, forced caining inscription, a tattooing of “thief” upon my 5 knuckled right ****** “plagiarist” boldly inked in back & blue upon my left palm I, predator, she, victim, of my now self-professed, admitted confess, she, my single victim, of a decade long serializing criminal coverup her parting poem a threatening, herein issued in this very verse, damning all who would falsely credit themselves, to suffer shame and an unimaginable curse, this, the newborn eleventh of ten commandments parting, she kissing my lips, even my emptied apertures, with warning bitings, she knew all my my numerous noms de guerre, no dead scrolls caves to hid in, and to be discovered some future day, and if ever marked as copyrighted, ’twas no tunneling escape, the exposed truth to be over-stamped upon all, upon each, in every language, ”copied right from the tongue of a woman!” and she would be wright...

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Metal bones dropped over another clashing sounds across the night of smoky denials in a city of thieves, paupers and scholars. Worn down and without memory, someone's father brushes off the dust of a young person's tombstone. The oblivious student bends over information into another alarm bell of insatiable chases. Huddled in a street corner like sprites of another dark jungle, workers in uniform and hard hats share stories and spare time as if nothing else matters but this fading incomplete point in time. Overhead looms the impending bright dangers and dim warnings being built From metals and soil into another giant promise trying to excuse itself as it rips through the city lungs, calmly abiding and seeming always ready to die or live through.

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Sep 10, 2018

Sep 10, 2018 at 8:59 AM UTC

Metal bones dropped over another clashing sounds across the night of smoky denials in a city of thieves, paupers and scholars. Worn down and without memory, someone's father brushes off the dust of a young person's tombstone. The oblivious student bends over information into another alarm bell of insatiable chases. Huddled in a street corner like sprites of another dark jungle, workers in uniform and hard hats share stories and spare time as if nothing else matters but this fading incomplete point in time. Overhead looms the impending bright dangers and dim warnings being built From metals and soil into another giant promise trying to excuse itself as it rips through the city lungs, calmly abiding and seeming always ready to die or live through.

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The dead-bolts on the interior doors Against the nephews most securely locked (One is destructive; the other explores) Ignored by their mother (usually crocked) The brother-in-law babbles about his bowels And surgeries over the festive spread Ignoring his wife’s disapproving scowls Detailing each grim therapy and med The puppies are safely penned inside Because of an incident with a crowbar And a nephew who kicked and screamed and cried - He wasn’t allowed to **** the dogs or bash the car His mother comforted him in his tears And glowered at me for telling him no And comforted herself with a few more beers Her special child is sensitive, you know The brother-in-law’s colonoscopy With lurid adjectives of graphic doom Comes with the pie and more iced tea His miseries circulate around the room Then from the living room an expensive crash “Not me!” “Not me!” More screams and denials and cries An old family vase – it’s now just trash “You shouldn’t have glass around,” their mother sighs The brother-in-law offers to show his scars He finds his shirt buttons, makes his move We other men escape outside for cigars Cigars!? The women uniformly disapprove One nephew leaps upon a garden seat And jumps and yells until it falls apart Their mother says her boy is cute and sweet “Are you all right, my dear little heart?” The brother-in-law holds his tummy and groans And tells us all about his flatulence And just which foods lead to what moans (Perhaps he should practice some abstinence) The women come outside to cough and choke With practiced puritan disapproval and sneers About the satanic scent of tobacco smoke The world’s best mother chugs a few more beers The brother-in-law explains why he can’t drink It’s about his digestion (be surprised) And we shouldn’t smoke; if only we’d think And we (got a match?) are properly chastised Then at the end of this mandatory day Of mandatory Hallmark merriment All of them finally go the (space) away And how did the mailbox get broken and bent? But the brother-in-law pauses at the garden gate “Say, did I tell you about my new pills…?” And so dear solitude again must wait While darkness slowly falls upon the hills

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Nov 21, 2018

Nov 21, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC

A Good, Old-Fashioned Thanksgiving with the Family and the Relatives Who Just Won't Go Away

The dead-bolts on the interior doors Against the nephews most securely locked (One is destructive; the other explores) Ignored by their mother (usually crocked) The brother-in-law babbles about his bowels And surgeries over the festive spread Ignoring his wife’s disapproving scowls Detailing each grim therapy and med The puppies are safely penned inside Because of an incident with a crowbar And a nephew who kicked and screamed and cried - He wasn’t allowed to **** the dogs or bash the car His mother comforted him in his tears And glowered at me for telling him no And comforted herself with a few more beers Her special child is sensitive, you know The brother-in-law’s colonoscopy With lurid adjectives of graphic doom Comes with the pie and more iced tea His miseries circulate around the room Then from the living room an expensive crash “Not me!” “Not me!” More screams and denials and cries An old family vase – it’s now just trash “You shouldn’t have glass around,” their mother sighs The brother-in-law offers to show his scars He finds his shirt buttons, makes his move We other men escape outside for cigars Cigars!? The women uniformly disapprove One nephew leaps upon a garden seat And jumps and yells until it falls apart Their mother says her boy is cute and sweet “Are you all right, my dear little heart?” The brother-in-law holds his tummy and groans And tells us all about his flatulence And just which foods lead to what moans (Perhaps he should practice some abstinence) The women come outside to cough and choke With practiced puritan disapproval and sneers About the satanic scent of tobacco smoke The world’s best mother chugs a few more beers The brother-in-law explains why he can’t drink It’s about his digestion (be surprised) And we shouldn’t smoke; if only we’d think And we (got a match?) are properly chastised Then at the end of this mandatory day Of mandatory Hallmark merriment All of them finally go the (space) away And how did the mailbox get broken and bent? But the brother-in-law pauses at the garden gate “Say, did I tell you about my new pills…?” And so dear solitude again must wait While darkness slowly falls upon the hills

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You see, today’s problems are all going fast Everything crumbling, turning to the past So everything I think of of Has already happened somehow, someway Like it was yesterday Yeah, yesterday Seems just like yesterday, I didn’t know how to speak Seems like it was yesterday I was on a winning streak Seems like yesterday the problems were far away Seems like yesterday there wasn’t any pain Guess things change After a while Guess things change Though they have denials Guess things are never quite the same Guess it was just like Yesterday Yesterday Yesterday Seems just like yesterday we had the time of our lives Seems just like yesterday we only told truths not lies Seems just like yesterday we were all home free Seems just like yesterday we opened our eyes to the world to see Guess things move And never really stop Guess things have a groove Gotta make it to the top Guess things rise and fall Making history Guess things are written on the wall Hey, are you listening? Seems like yesterday I was president of the world (yeah right) Seems like yesterday black and white was swirled Seems like yesterday I got this whole new beat Seems like yesterday this is all just a repeat Guess some things, really never change Guess some just like to stay the same Guess some only do it for the game…. Guess some always take the blame But it just Seems like yesterday was a brand new day Seems like yesterday was a scripted play Seems like yesterday, the sky wasn’t so far away Seems like yesterday we were getting paid HEY HEY HEY Seems just like yesterday, I didn’t know how to speak Seems like it was yesterday I was on a winning streak Seems like yesterday the problems were far away Seems like yesterday there wasn’t any pain

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Dec 22, 2015

Dec 22, 2015 at 12:57 PM UTC

Seems Like Yesterday

You see, today’s problems are all going fast Everything crumbling, turning to the past So everything I think of of Has already happened somehow, someway Like it was yesterday Yeah, yesterday Seems just like yesterday, I didn’t know how to speak Seems like it was yesterday I was on a winning streak Seems like yesterday the problems were far away Seems like yesterday there wasn’t any pain Guess things change After a while Guess things change Though they have denials Guess things are never quite the same Guess it was just like Yesterday Yesterday Yesterday Seems just like yesterday we had the time of our lives Seems just like yesterday we only told truths not lies Seems just like yesterday we were all home free Seems just like yesterday we opened our eyes to the world to see Guess things move And never really stop Guess things have a groove Gotta make it to the top Guess things rise and fall Making history Guess things are written on the wall Hey, are you listening? Seems like yesterday I was president of the world (yeah right) Seems like yesterday black and white was swirled Seems like yesterday I got this whole new beat Seems like yesterday this is all just a repeat Guess some things, really never change Guess some just like to stay the same Guess some only do it for the game…. Guess some always take the blame But it just Seems like yesterday was a brand new day Seems like yesterday was a scripted play Seems like yesterday, the sky wasn’t so far away Seems like yesterday we were getting paid HEY HEY HEY Seems just like yesterday, I didn’t know how to speak Seems like it was yesterday I was on a winning streak Seems like yesterday the problems were far away Seems like yesterday there wasn’t any pain

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Your eyes are so beautiful but sad. Ladders on your walls with "unreachable" peaks encapsulate you. Chapped lips and blistered palms symbolize your life's struggles. Scars coat your arms as you crawl on such rugged rubble. God, who lifts his hands to either punish or reward, heard your prayers. All your ordeals and prejudices has burdened you in many layers. Your eyes are so beautiful but sad. A rare beauty is what I call you but I know you wouldn't like that. Amidst all the troubles of your days, a compliment might seem like the last thing to say. I have seen your trials and denials, your slavery and hopeless compliance. I still see the beauty in you and I can write it in words but cannot sing it in tunes. But don't worry, pain is temporary and it would leave soon.

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Dec 9, 2016

Dec 9, 2016 at 4:05 PM UTC

Beautiful sad eyes

Your eyes are so beautiful but sad. Ladders on your walls with "unreachable" peaks encapsulate you. Chapped lips and blistered palms symbolize your life's struggles. Scars coat your arms as you crawl on such rugged rubble. God, who lifts his hands to either punish or reward, heard your prayers. All your ordeals and prejudices has burdened you in many layers. Your eyes are so beautiful but sad. A rare beauty is what I call you but I know you wouldn't like that. Amidst all the troubles of your days, a compliment might seem like the last thing to say. I have seen your trials and denials, your slavery and hopeless compliance. I still see the beauty in you and I can write it in words but cannot sing it in tunes. But don't worry, pain is temporary and it would leave soon.

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Is this it? The sight of a finish line, despite all those nights sipping wine, coming closer. Has anyone ever kept running even after the race was over? Is this it? Echoing in the back of my mind: hushed denials with each squeezing embrace Every option leading to a bitter after taste So I leave these aching memories with haste. Is this it? My frustration escaped through exhaled sighs While you place your hands on my trembling thighs. Blue, deeper than the ocean, colored our sad faces Because a orange dream was about to reach its demise. Is this it? My heart tries to argue: "It cannot be. For every end is a new beginning With a twist of fate's hand, something has to be brewing. Perhaps lead us back to what was once felt that was lost as of late. History repeats, a wise folk has once told me, make that brave leap and just keep faith. Is this it? Meet me again. After you close your eyes, please I implore, count to ten. Drift into a dream and meet me there Until one day you don't have to close your eyes. One day we will be nose to nose under the same orange skies.

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Aug 2, 2018

Aug 2, 2018 at 10:59 AM UTC

abigail-del-fierro

Unfinished business.

Is this it? The sight of a finish line, despite all those nights sipping wine, coming closer. Has anyone ever kept running even after the race was over? Is this it? Echoing in the back of my mind: hushed denials with each squeezing embrace Every option leading to a bitter after taste So I leave these aching memories with haste. Is this it? My frustration escaped through exhaled sighs While you place your hands on my trembling thighs. Blue, deeper than the ocean, colored our sad faces Because a orange dream was about to reach its demise. Is this it? My heart tries to argue: "It cannot be. For every end is a new beginning With a twist of fate's hand, something has to be brewing. Perhaps lead us back to what was once felt that was lost as of late. History repeats, a wise folk has once told me, make that brave leap and just keep faith. Is this it? Meet me again. After you close your eyes, please I implore, count to ten. Drift into a dream and meet me there Until one day you don't have to close your eyes. One day we will be nose to nose under the same orange skies.

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I need to say that sleeping is... hard to achieve when your goals are set high, and yet something prevents me to convey just how difficult rest is to apply to your day to day life trying to get by Every year around this time I get weird without knowing why... Leaves start to fall and my body starts shutting down in depression that won't let me live my life happily without dodging the darts, here's my vain confession, I'm scrolling through a lie, reading stupid people's denials... just an advice: don't let them tell you that you don't suffice... you **** well know what you have to do, just shut them up with a smile that says "I hate you too" ;)

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Sep 25, 2015

Sep 25, 2015 at 11:05 PM UTC

Life is a ferris wheel

I need to say that sleeping is... hard to achieve when your goals are set high, and yet something prevents me to convey just how difficult rest is to apply to your day to day life trying to get by Every year around this time I get weird without knowing why... Leaves start to fall and my body starts shutting down in depression that won't let me live my life happily without dodging the darts, here's my vain confession, I'm scrolling through a lie, reading stupid people's denials... just an advice: don't let them tell you that you don't suffice... you **** well know what you have to do, just shut them up with a smile that says "I hate you too" ;)

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We The People Sailed the same course Some willingly Some by force We The People A document to inform A more perfect Union To weather any storm No more kings No more oppression No taxation Without representation Checks and balances And the rule of law Mitigating injustices Safe harbor for all The secular trinty President, Congress, Court Not one above the other Veto, fiat, tort Our common interest Of defense With liberty And justice Our common tranquility And general welfare A union With resources to share American rights And protection From a despotic government Or an insurrection Free to worship my God Or your God Freedom to find God Or deny any God Open discourse Speaking my mind And yours However unkind Collective grievances Peaceably petitioned We walk together But never threatened To bear arms For our security Never being forced To quarter unwillfully To remain secure In our sanctuary Unless presented With writ of entry Neither held Absent habeas corpus Or loss of property Unless agreed by us Or forced to testify To contradict our own denials Or brought forward In duplicitous trials To face our accuser In much haste Represented by counsel Our peers decide our fate Not one but twelve Examining the facts Brought forward But only this court acts Reasonable recompense For fine or bail Cruel or unusual retribution Shall not avail An enumeration Merely provides illumination But within the penumbra Reveals more freedom That is self-evident No list or count Exists to encumber Or restriction to surmount A union has formed But sacred remains the individual The tyranny of the majority Is not permissible A living breathing document? Or static words unbending? Even as we amend Change never ending Open to interpretation If you see a right But others may disagree There may be a fight The spirit of intent Is there to see Freedom to choose Secured by liberty We The People A sacred quest We The People No more no less

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Mar 7, 2012

Mar 7, 2012 at 10:29 AM UTC

The Pocket Constitution

We The People Sailed the same course Some willingly Some by force We The People A document to inform A more perfect Union To weather any storm No more kings No more oppression No taxation Without representation Checks and balances And the rule of law Mitigating injustices Safe harbor for all The secular trinty President, Congress, Court Not one above the other Veto, fiat, tort Our common interest Of defense With liberty And justice Our common tranquility And general welfare A union With resources to share American rights And protection From a despotic government Or an insurrection Free to worship my God Or your God Freedom to find God Or deny any God Open discourse Speaking my mind And yours However unkind Collective grievances Peaceably petitioned We walk together But never threatened To bear arms For our security Never being forced To quarter unwillfully To remain secure In our sanctuary Unless presented With writ of entry Neither held Absent habeas corpus Or loss of property Unless agreed by us Or forced to testify To contradict our own denials Or brought forward In duplicitous trials To face our accuser In much haste Represented by counsel Our peers decide our fate Not one but twelve Examining the facts Brought forward But only this court acts Reasonable recompense For fine or bail Cruel or unusual retribution Shall not avail An enumeration Merely provides illumination But within the penumbra Reveals more freedom That is self-evident No list or count Exists to encumber Or restriction to surmount A union has formed But sacred remains the individual The tyranny of the majority Is not permissible A living breathing document? Or static words unbending? Even as we amend Change never ending Open to interpretation If you see a right But others may disagree There may be a fight The spirit of intent Is there to see Freedom to choose Secured by liberty We The People A sacred quest We The People No more no less

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this deviant moment exposed to light of day unable to mute my words they tumble out and roll round like a car full of clowns in the circus all color and no content one rolls back to me gets in my face eyes red with its irate feelin puffin on a greasy cigar it makes all kinds of loud noise in the back of my head trying to guilt trip me out keeps me awake half the night this deviant moment flows like a charm for him flows like cheap wine when the friends are near and dear price don't come till harsh light of day face up in the mirror full of denials full of regrets full outa steam just shuffle through the moment knowin that you'll get to the track on time just gotta get the ole mutt movin and the dusty road from here to eternity never seemed so unsteady as it dose today the deviant moment was her magical hour was her moment to shine in the artificial sun she had acceptance speechs written and a dress picked out for her own red carpet stroll she had studied all the books and gotta pretty good bead on this whole motherhood thing gonna name him 'seattle' its was gonna be her magical moment in the artificial sun the deviant moment was his break from the harsh road it was his moment to loose himself and just be and that nirvana was in her arms that moment was in beauty of her affections but the carving in stone don't melt like ice not freely given but who can name the price of what its costs to the soul they can ask but you can never 'plain to em what the give takes out of you step to that road be prepared to give up ever lookin back the deviant moment passed between em left them both changed but she never will see it the same as him shes trapped back there in the one horse mountain town and hes shining on a sunbaked beach in the cool cool moonlight of a southern sun the deviant moment leaves us now with her blanketed in snow leaves him with regrets like children at your ankles pulling at your legs ever demanding answers to questions you never even heard leaves me with thoughts bout going back to sea bout sailing till iv lost all memory of this place and her fondling the hands of time

0

Dec 19, 2013

Dec 19, 2013 at 2:43 PM UTC

mark-john-junor-1

the deviant moment

this deviant moment exposed to light of day unable to mute my words they tumble out and roll round like a car full of clowns in the circus all color and no content one rolls back to me gets in my face eyes red with its irate feelin puffin on a greasy cigar it makes all kinds of loud noise in the back of my head trying to guilt trip me out keeps me awake half the night this deviant moment flows like a charm for him flows like cheap wine when the friends are near and dear price don't come till harsh light of day face up in the mirror full of denials full of regrets full outa steam just shuffle through the moment knowin that you'll get to the track on time just gotta get the ole mutt movin and the dusty road from here to eternity never seemed so unsteady as it dose today the deviant moment was her magical hour was her moment to shine in the artificial sun she had acceptance speechs written and a dress picked out for her own red carpet stroll she had studied all the books and gotta pretty good bead on this whole motherhood thing gonna name him 'seattle' its was gonna be her magical moment in the artificial sun the deviant moment was his break from the harsh road it was his moment to loose himself and just be and that nirvana was in her arms that moment was in beauty of her affections but the carving in stone don't melt like ice not freely given but who can name the price of what its costs to the soul they can ask but you can never 'plain to em what the give takes out of you step to that road be prepared to give up ever lookin back the deviant moment passed between em left them both changed but she never will see it the same as him shes trapped back there in the one horse mountain town and hes shining on a sunbaked beach in the cool cool moonlight of a southern sun the deviant moment leaves us now with her blanketed in snow leaves him with regrets like children at your ankles pulling at your legs ever demanding answers to questions you never even heard leaves me with thoughts bout going back to sea bout sailing till iv lost all memory of this place and her fondling the hands of time

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I heard it from reliable source we have it upside down that Soul is mired just like us in denials' deadly drown. We are the ones on point of power though muck is what we see. We answer evolution's dream and change reality.

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Sep 22, 2012

Sep 22, 2012 at 2:00 PM UTC

I heard it from reliable source we have it upside down that Soul is mired just like us in denials' deadly drown. We are the ones on point of power though muck is what we see. We answer evolution's dream and change reality.

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.it's called pronoun usage focused upon the experience of claustrophobia, or rather, the lack of... hence: one thinks in order for one to be... unus, cogito, unus se, per ergo; these people went after grammar... not a good idea; i've had my doubts... but... i also have my... rigid beyond religious orthodoxy credos... infringed upon denials! grammar is one of them! well... if we're going to go about our verbiage as we've done... pronouns... sorry... i have to do this... or rather... one has to resort to this... one must think / hinge on such matters... one must execute such... "inconveniences"... one must, press on such matters... just so, one is able... to counter the trans- pronoun usage... with a royal, pronoun usage; happy?! go on... two is able... two think... figure it out... tow along; as a Nascar wreck... because started thinking... is pluralism intact pluralism... on the basis of an isolated instance of a disfranchised base within the confines of He... or She? no? well... the royal pronoun intervention... as one would expect... or rather, as one would hope so... hello?! i think the lunatics have run the asylum long enough... their supposed asylum, formerly known as society? not good enough... call the guys in the white coats that... everyone seems to fear.

0

Oct 16, 2018

Oct 16, 2018 at 8:22 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

it's about the right time

.it's called pronoun usage focused upon the experience of claustrophobia, or rather, the lack of... hence: one thinks in order for one to be... unus, cogito, unus se, per ergo; these people went after grammar... not a good idea; i've had my doubts... but... i also have my... rigid beyond religious orthodoxy credos... infringed upon denials! grammar is one of them! well... if we're going to go about our verbiage as we've done... pronouns... sorry... i have to do this... or rather... one has to resort to this... one must think / hinge on such matters... one must execute such... "inconveniences"... one must, press on such matters... just so, one is able... to counter the trans- pronoun usage... with a royal, pronoun usage; happy?! go on... two is able... two think... figure it out... tow along; as a Nascar wreck... because started thinking... is pluralism intact pluralism... on the basis of an isolated instance of a disfranchised base within the confines of He... or She? no? well... the royal pronoun intervention... as one would expect... or rather, as one would hope so... hello?! i think the lunatics have run the asylum long enough... their supposed asylum, formerly known as society? not good enough... call the guys in the white coats that... everyone seems to fear.

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she's awkward and shy, but she's got a thing for that guy, the one making a fool of himself, falling at the entrance of the class they have been classmates since 1st grade, they have held few eye contacts, they have collided in a few bumps, but never have they ever spoke to one another he shouted the answer for her, he said her voice is too low, he tells stupidly foolish jokes, that secretly cracks her up

0

Nov 8, 2013

Nov 8, 2013 at 10:43 AM UTC

she's awkward and shy, but she's got a thing for that guy, the one making a fool of himself, falling at the entrance of the class they have been classmates since 1st grade, they have held few eye contacts, they have collided in a few bumps, but never have they ever spoke to one another he shouted the answer for her, he said her voice is too low, he tells stupidly foolish jokes, that secretly cracks her up

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Questions asked— Answers evaded Questions asked— Churlish responses Questions asked— Reality revised Questions asked— Dangerous denials Questions asked— Squeaky clean! Questions asked— RED HERRING!!! Questions asked— Deny FBI Questions asked— AD HOMINEM!!! Questions asked— Boast, repost Questions asked— Uncivil snivel Questions asked— Snide asides A question asked: Where are we? Scary judiciary? End times? Revolution? Not in this Kansas.

0

Sep 28, 2018

Sep 28, 2018 at 1:49 AM UTC

LESS THAN “D" MR. K

Questions asked— Answers evaded Questions asked— Churlish responses Questions asked— Reality revised Questions asked— Dangerous denials Questions asked— Squeaky clean! Questions asked— RED HERRING!!! Questions asked— Deny FBI Questions asked— AD HOMINEM!!! Questions asked— Boast, repost Questions asked— Uncivil snivel Questions asked— Snide asides A question asked: Where are we? Scary judiciary? End times? Revolution? Not in this Kansas.

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I have washed my ****** hands in the hope colored stream of my own karma; a futile attempt. The waters cleansed my hands But stained my soul with The leprous audience of The singularity of my being. I have waded souldeep Into the stained waters Of my own karma; A quantum baptism. My sins and triumphs My denials and truths lain bare, Visions which burn into the circle Of all that I was, am, and yet to be. I have become the hope colored water Of my own floundering fate. I am the circle, the enigma; I stand within and without. I encompass myself And wait to be born Into a new solitude Of radiant wonder.

0

Feb 18, 2011

Feb 18, 2011 at 4:57 PM UTC

I have washed my ****** hands in the hope colored stream of my own karma; a futile attempt. The waters cleansed my hands But stained my soul with The leprous audience of The singularity of my being. I have waded souldeep Into the stained waters Of my own karma; A quantum baptism. My sins and triumphs My denials and truths lain bare, Visions which burn into the circle Of all that I was, am, and yet to be. I have become the hope colored water Of my own floundering fate. I am the circle, the enigma; I stand within and without. I encompass myself And wait to be born Into a new solitude Of radiant wonder.

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There was a girl. And this girl wore her heart on her sleeve Everyone saw this and everyone cared. There was a guy. And this guy wore his scars on his skin Everyone saw this but no one cared. Why would they? She was beautiful, had a voice that made waking up worth while He was beautiful too but you couldn't see that through his denials The girl finally noticed the guy. He was the only one who never said hi She asked why he never cared He answered "I'm sorry your majesty" This went back and forth for a couple weeks Until one day he didn't come to school There was a guy. And this guy hung a crown around his neck No one saw this but everyone cared The girl finally noticed the guy. He was the only one who never said bye

0

Nov 1, 2014

Nov 1, 2014 at 10:16 AM UTC

There was a girl. And this girl wore her heart on her sleeve Everyone saw this and everyone cared. There was a guy. And this guy wore his scars on his skin Everyone saw this but no one cared. Why would they? She was beautiful, had a voice that made waking up worth while He was beautiful too but you couldn't see that through his denials The girl finally noticed the guy. He was the only one who never said hi She asked why he never cared He answered "I'm sorry your majesty" This went back and forth for a couple weeks Until one day he didn't come to school There was a guy. And this guy hung a crown around his neck No one saw this but everyone cared The girl finally noticed the guy. He was the only one who never said bye

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these troubled thoughts this collection of disquiets like dry bones gathering dust their lifeless forms encrusted with the fine thin black ink her diary of desperate longings written on each bone like magic runes like roadmaps to dark kingdoms she keeps the bones in a wooden box behind the concreate wall with burning incense to mask the smell of fear unfounded in these the enlightened years but illustrated neatly in comic book fashion by her masked superhero natural appearances just that little somthing dangerouse in the steel glint of her grey eyes these troubled thoughts are loud in my mind broadcast to all who are not too blind to see like the garish sound of transistor radio just off a station of cheap music these dark feelings run like knives down my spine the seep into my own bones which are also handwritten chapters of her diary of self deceptions and denials i manufacture a vehicle of escapism in the words i tap out on my kindle but it rings hollow in the face of her beautiful decay of her own disquiet tears unable to shake free of these dark feelings i throw the dry bones in the sea and listen as she demands that i drown the remainder of my unkind words with them we finally stand hand in hand at the edge of the world watching the dry bones sail into the crisp dawn like a sailboat making for spain

0

Jan 20, 2014

Jan 20, 2014 at 8:44 AM UTC

mark-john-junor-1

these troubled thoughts this collection of disquiets like dry bones gathering dust their lifeless forms encrusted with the fine thin black ink her diary of desperate longings written on each bone like magic runes like roadmaps to dark kingdoms she keeps the bones in a wooden box behind the concreate wall with burning incense to mask the smell of fear unfounded in these the enlightened years but illustrated neatly in comic book fashion by her masked superhero natural appearances just that little somthing dangerouse in the steel glint of her grey eyes these troubled thoughts are loud in my mind broadcast to all who are not too blind to see like the garish sound of transistor radio just off a station of cheap music these dark feelings run like knives down my spine the seep into my own bones which are also handwritten chapters of her diary of self deceptions and denials i manufacture a vehicle of escapism in the words i tap out on my kindle but it rings hollow in the face of her beautiful decay of her own disquiet tears unable to shake free of these dark feelings i throw the dry bones in the sea and listen as she demands that i drown the remainder of my unkind words with them we finally stand hand in hand at the edge of the world watching the dry bones sail into the crisp dawn like a sailboat making for spain

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Can you hear that sound Like a tiny whining You're a sad eyed puppy Inside It's a kind of yearning When pining away, wanting someone or something So expensive beyond reach The mind begins to fantasize what it's like, Infantilize what's real life. Enlisting unreasonable scenerios Creative now with lies And denials and exit strategies, Scapegoats of close members of family, accusatory.. Blame all but yourself Inflammatory story's demise Because the lost moments spent Pining away Will die unknowing your real life self. Inside that fog of fictitious false depictions Who dat? Starving yourself blind See there on that podium Your bad phat shines Always in first place--gold medal favorite Hooray it's not quite you or even true. If pining were a sport Having lost your minds You'd all be winners. Celebrity famous, go on Crave being extra, so street savvy "Hey Alexa, Google, Suri Define obsession." Pining turns dangerous In absentia dysplased Souls are stolen, Human replicas. Still carrying on pining Away. Killer lover blank. Got brain? Bullets? A shiv or Shank? Sharp as a pine tree... (Please, Don't forget to give Thanks.)

0

Jul 22, 2020

Jul 22, 2020 at 11:27 AM UTC

butch-decatoria

Can you hear that sound Like a tiny whining You're a sad eyed puppy Inside It's a kind of yearning When pining away, wanting someone or something So expensive beyond reach The mind begins to fantasize what it's like, Infantilize what's real life. Enlisting unreasonable scenerios Creative now with lies And denials and exit strategies, Scapegoats of close members of family, accusatory.. Blame all but yourself Inflammatory story's demise Because the lost moments spent Pining away Will die unknowing your real life self. Inside that fog of fictitious false depictions Who dat? Starving yourself blind See there on that podium Your bad phat shines Always in first place--gold medal favorite Hooray it's not quite you or even true. If pining were a sport Having lost your minds You'd all be winners. Celebrity famous, go on Crave being extra, so street savvy "Hey Alexa, Google, Suri Define obsession." Pining turns dangerous In absentia dysplased Souls are stolen, Human replicas. Still carrying on pining Away. Killer lover blank. Got brain? Bullets? A shiv or Shank? Sharp as a pine tree... (Please, Don't forget to give Thanks.)

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