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Do you mind if I sit back and observe the process of the lords creation the subject matter is miraculous the beauty is elegant perfect in every scence my baby girl you stole my heart such a thief ain't you, thinking about seductive things we do sinners ain't we, naughty deeds but the intentions is good it serves needs

What pains me is that I have to let go to regrip your sparkling eyes again, got to move fast so quick that I don't miss the chance to clutch you in my arms again, heaven sent such a gift I cried when you was born I ain't even know you back then because, GOD made you for me I picked up your scent, I know from day one you was mine let us age old together bad and boujee like expensive fine wine, my kiss is possessive the beat of your heart is mine let that foreplay tingle down your spine, open wide going deep let me reach your soul ****** our achievement together it ain't *** it's love

I love you girl no *** postion that can top this deposition let me show you its deeper than ***, I'm still into you watch me shift working overtime full time love baby moan out affection go on say the name, our body hum harmony can feel this body heat that steamy love, open wide in deep that creamy love that dreamy love, its deeper than ***, the agony an orgams of how our love make our body shiver, I love you, I love you! I rejoice I could say this a thousand times it's deeper than ***
Help me get this to trending. Wrote this about a special girl
I was foretold, your rebell ***,
  Nor love, nor pitty knew;
And with what scorn you use to vex
  Poor hearts that humbly sue;
Yet I believ’d, to crown our pain,
  Could we the fortress win,
The happy Lover sure should gain
  A Paradise within:
I thought Loves plagues, like Dragons sate,
Only to fright us at the gate.

But I did enter, and enjoy
  What happy Lovers prove;
For I could kiss, and sport, and toy,
  And taste those sweets of love;
Which had they but a lasting state,
  Or if in Celia’s brest
The force of love might not abate,
  Jove were too mean a guest.
But now her breach of faith, farre more
Afflicts, than did her scorn before.

Hard fate! to have been once possest,
  As victor, of a heart
Atchiev’d with labour, and unrest,
  And then forc’d to depart.
If the stout Foe will not resigne
  When I besiege a Town,
I lose, but what was never mine;
  But he that is cast down
From enjoy’d beauty, feels a woe,
Only deposed Kings can know.
Sayer Jan 2014
calm me with your hands
smooth my wounds a little more
i'm lost in this invisible highway
wandering with lots of baggage

while i'm stuck here hung up high by disappointment,
crucified by travesty depression love and sickness
everyday my stomach hurts,
my head burns
i can see the light coming
but i know i must not surrender to the light
that is disguised as darkness

and i must remember, as my body aches
the good times and not the bad
perhaps those times were too few

if i could start over i would
crawl out of a small claustrophobic box of death
and depression
and with my hands, come back into the womb

surrender to the fall,
with the mother of us all
looking over
giving birth to everyone
so fast, so short
i can't look past you,
your eyes staring at me
watching me be taken down
you must throw me into the sun
the true light, the true fight
i can try to see the future but
i'm truly blind to everything
and i know you try to help
but every word crucifies and burns
my aching soul
and as I feel like it's time to melt back into the ground
i climb back into the womb with my Ladder
and wait to be slipped back in again,
but all I can feel is your face
all i see are your eyes
everyone else doesn't matter
i've waited so long
i've been up here so long
take me down
take me down
take me down
take me down
take me down
take me down
take me down
and just hold me,
for a little while
because i am not the one who needs to hold,
i am the one who needs to be held.
Lb Jun 2014
I don't like being "happy"

Because happiness is only momentary

It's an erratical state

It can last days or it can last for minutes, either way it always ends too quickly.

And then your kind of thrown into that limbo of sadness and melancholy

There isn't a light at the end of this , because your not in a tunnel

You're just there , you're not even stuck because this isn't a momentary state


We're cutting out the *******, ,lets be honest

Life *****

Situations ****

Family ****

Friends , if you can call them that........ ****

There's no such thing as stability,
there's no haven,
there's no safe word
, there's no pause

There's no stopping it

That's just how it is

Its that eternal numbness that just seeps it's way in

as poisons and suffocates the mind

until everything is just ,

grey
Inna Jun 2015
it felt like trying
to get away with homicide
except
i was guilty
for keeping something alive

repressing ardent feelings
holding back words
locking them in a cage
like wild little birds

but my mistake
was leaving something
out in the open
forgetting the evidence
the body, this poem
Martin Narrod Mar 2016
she reads meat
eyes in a meeting
persistent of the trysts of leather
her steady trap-door arose
in her deposition
the latitude of her nubile degrees
Procrastinates his step,
Subtly overdubbing the scrawny pallid ache
In the etch'd skin, her color-by-numbers comes undone.
anastasiad May 2016
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rsc Apr 2015
An uneasy knowing:
Hand on the doorknob,
Intuition hinting at what's
Through the keyhole.

Excuse me, while I
Make my way back to the womb
And coalesce into an egg once more.

I must relearn everything I was ever taught.

I must rethink everything I ever thought.

"My soul shall not be bought,"
Is a declaration not an "Oh, I ought to."
Tangled in some narrative, stuck like glue;
Convention is convention
Regardless of where it's acted out,
Chugging a cheap beer or slinging back a stout.

Let the wild eyed lemurs out!

Femurs shriek ****** ******,
Shin splits from sprinting to get coffee creamer.

Benz,
Bentley,
or
Beamer?

Out of place in small town USA,
But the monster makes itself the new normal.
Wear jeans to the semi-formal, but
The after party is her call.

To make the future or **** it all?
Is life an experiment or a free for all?
Is it neither? Is it nothing at all?

Squeezing the eyes out of a stress ball,
Touch pleasing thighs as the curtains draw...

Ka-caw! Ka-caw!
I am, I am a triumphant toucan!
Flapping wings flowing fluttery alchemy,
Making circles out of straight lines,
Crafting stories out of blank mind.

It comes in time, I guess,
The mess of me cleaning itself up gradually
Only to regress under sea level again
And again, becoming a canyon,
The slow deposition, the bearer of men.

Redheaded and clucking mother hen
Drinking hot water, honey, and lemon,
Patronizing old explorers like Magellan.

Tune into the past, oh sugar sweet one,
Inflicting beatings with flagellum,
Stealing treats and eating them,
Mountain peaks and chewing gum.

Puh-*** puh-***-***!
Our heads make good drums,
And our bleating makes good melodies.

Can you teach me the song of the trees?
Can we at least save the bees?

Nectarine mornings and small, knobby knees..
Mommy, please, put my hair in pig tails!
Pick up the worms off the sidewalk,
Watch out for the snails.

Lay me down into a hay bale;
I'll send you snail mail from
My heavenly little hell.

What's that smell;
My baby blanket or an ex-boyfriend
Lingering underneath my nose hairs?
In smoking scents do memories construct their lairs.

Do I have a care?
Do I have to care?
Is it a curse to be aware?
Is it a curse to think that, to dare?

Something fragile hangs in the air.

Teeth grind, sweaty night mares,
Water and oil, oh! What a pair.

Fingers uncoil from around your neck:
Slender ghostly feelers beckoning,

"Come destroy yourself with me."

Cast my body out to sea,
Playing saccharine melodies, but
Send my soul out separately.
Nat Lipstadt May 2017
~~
The Trial of His Worthiness 2017

for betterdays, explorer of my complaints to the heavens,
and Patty, who asks,
who writes like this...answers from an old man




~~~
the 2017 baptism yesterday, by calendar dictate,
to my park, nature's commune, the poet wills himself to be
forcibly removed from city, greeted in solemn robes of blue/green,
by the triumvirate of bay, animals and flora & trees interlocking,
who stand in judgement of the humans interloping off-islanders
summer internees

to the double entendre dock removed,
so the bay, the Chief Justice, now a bit hard of hearing,
from the thunder and lighting of cymbal and drum crackling of the winter waves clashing, can hear my deposition clearer

the chief prosecutor, the tallest tree, wraps her branches,
around my legs, my feet, my heart, my head, not to restrain,
but to listen to my internals to adjudge the electrocardiogram
veracity of my words, a natural lie detector machine

the animals requested and sequestered to jury service,
large and small, from forest, the beneath-the-deck rabbits,
all learned in the human language, after 5 centuries of
less than social *******

put to me queries only I could answer

why have you returned?

humanity wearing me so, come to nature that knows only natural laws where existence is primary, good and evil are undefined and premeditation of ****** for no purpose of one's own kind is rare

will you write of us as in years as past?

will write of the commingling taffy of your
salt waters and my salt tears,
taking of your oxygen gifts, returning my dioxides,
both of us sharing the munificence of a warm sun goddess,
will plant my irises and kiss your cherry blossom leaves,
will step aside, over the ant mounds, harming nothing living,
for rightful life is not accorded by precedence or size
or your chosen version of a holy book


will you play for us your human music?

contrapuntal canons, adagios of Barber, Adele & Dudamel,
"a song for you"by the master Charles, some by the
poet Cohen, and even of a Rocky Raccoon, and for our kids,
a tale of a Yellow Submarine and the Dr.'s Mississippi Mud,
dash of Joni's pure voice, Eva Cassidy's unreal, none better,
rock to Elvis, Beethoven, Mozart and the Zombies,
**** deer demand Pavarotti (who knew)

all but  a chocolate sauce for a sundae of your own air strings,
waves baying, rabbits madly dashing, and birds texting,
the bellows of trombone honking of the
s-hit and run Canadian geese,
multi colored seagull's violin-like protestation squeaks of
'feed me human,
my survival share of the catch'


the tree limbs released, to now stroke my skin, pat my head,
the ants perform an arabesque, the gossipy fish come to the surface as
his Honor, Justice Bay, pronounces my sentencing term:

come,
stay with us warmed and welcomed,
shaded in our attentive embrace human
and of us
be a witness deposed, testified,
of our true nature

go,
to your unattended, impatiently waiting, Adrionack throne, go,
(once of us, a living tree departed)
observe and record, without distortion and human bias,
as you have so oft in years past,
tho mere eye-blinks to us,
life and death and preservation can coexist in a harmony

perhaps your infant species may learn from nature & beasts,
that bounty well fair shared is what humans call
the worthiness of living
~~~~
5/28/17 11:09
uranus Sep 2014
I foster an incremental relation to the cosmos, enticed regularly by its indefiniteness and appeal.
Its evolutions, innate behaviors, and formidable sciences are recompense for earth’s meager discrepancies.
I often engage in the caprice to dismount much dissatisfaction by the constancy of riveting celestial events.
These beings possess no artificiality.
Its prophetic order, ornate and stupendous architectural facets have allowed a crescendo of dispositional hysteria.

Prosaic imprecations are deduced from its auxiliary wherewithal.
There is no contrition in immersing in enthrallment nor is there fickleness in trust.

Magnificent bodies orbit in finesse and probability, achieving universality and control.

Though these incitements are exponentially cheering, my origin is but connoted in despondency.

Usurpers and ill-suited vandals proliferated by the intemperance of the Ptolemaic discipline.
Rustics, miscreants and idle minds misdirected by less virtuous planetary derision.
My cognitive severity asserted by ominous consummation.

Oh how these preponderant truths confine me unfortunate.

Soliloquy is but an affliction amidst this era of anachronistic reign.
Grandiose passivity is intolerable at this time.

I plan to dichotomize my adamant fate from precepts and conditions anew.
The deposition of malfeasant kings will be sought.

Ploys I have already configured; propagation is near to instigation.

I will exhort my ascent to prime eminence.
The stars will sanction me to a rightful end.
betterdays Mar 2014
doopth..doopth..doopth..
the intonation of a gavel
upon a felted block

order, orrrder,

i now call to order this
washday gathering
of the
metaphysical
analytical
socks
drawer # 1793

all rise and come to toetip
for the grand entry of
the great thrice darned heel

kazoos squeak  the intro
to the ode to joy
an old grey golf sock is
ushered in to sit slouched
on the top of the washer/dryer.
he observes the following proceedings.

now to business

the agenda for the day

1. groove and the toe socks
table their report on the
systematic eradication of toejam.

2.the tradditionalists continue
the open discussion on,
wool versus synthetic,
for winterwear.

3.we have a vote scheduled
on the referedum matter:
do we allow sandals and thongs
guest status in this drawer.

4.the metaphysicists update
us on the age old conundrum;
"where do the odd socks go?"
at present they are devling
into the posibilities of
superposition of states,
as presented by
the schrodinger's cat theory.

5. the analytical group are meanwhile, surveying the remaining
evenless socks;
to obtain data on the pairless state of being

6. and finally, we welcome a deposition from the natralists;
with regard to use of bamboo
and hemp to allow for the wicking
of footwater, for a longer lasting
freshness of the base arch construction.

please feel free to attend one or
more of these discussions, contributions and /or questions
will be taken after the presentations.

i am also asked to inform you, that
the metatarsals group has a table of goods for sale, at the leftside of the wash basket.
items include:
new elastics and darning equipment.
books on special this meet are;
the ever popular
"how not to become a sock puppet"
and the tragic
"my life as a duster"
then there is the new offering of
"sox and jox:
the art of underwear
diplomacy."
and one last item of note:
a reminder that membership fees,
(of one clean toe clipping) are due
before next months gathering
go now,
enjoy the gathering.

and may the foot be with you
just a bit of silliness
when i should be folding laundry lol
part of a three word prompt challenge
words were metaphysical, construct,
and analytical.
Mystery compels his curiosity,
and he's curious about everything like a child.
Revealing his ticking gears in a timely fashion.
He used to wear his passions and
his heart strung out on the sponge's sleeve,
But it only brought pain; deposition from grief

*So the gift I bereave to you from the ashes of the old me is someone honest and true, who takes chance's Pitfall into consideration. Scribing my words to you how a Phoenix sheds it's plumes. No more I love you's until I feel you saying I love you too.
This poem is for those who felt vulnerable after giving too much of themselves away too quickly, only to find they've been taken advantage of once again.
(as imagined by this lumpenproletariat)

When no bigger then innocuous,
     ** hum, happy go lucky
     generic black whole
     sonny and cher full pinhead size zit,
thine pluperfect promising
     mysterious seat of pants whodunnit

     wordlessly wise wedded
     waywardness writ partly apportioned,
     thru totally tubular fluted circumcised
test tossed truly valued throned
     kingdom come emancipation *******,
     released special ops assigned prickly role

     donning spermatozoa swimsuit
owning papas hurtling
     traversing repertoire,
     noteworthy inherent pistol unit
flesh gun firing off biologic
     gum-shun reproductive script,

within zygote, sans courtesy
     squirt of flagellating
     fostering nanobyte superior vicesquad
     programmed fed tidbit,
stalwart sea men meted brooked shield
Dickensian gonadal mutual friend,

     whence gamete extolled finesse,
     (yet tubby revealed
     many a chromosomal trait)
     didst undergird uber reproductive
     up the down staircase
     reinforced by microscopic balustrade,

     yielding one ova Eggland's Best soffit
     rendering (unto Cesaer...)
     **** like magic fusion,
     whereby exiting fallopian tube
     deposition met fertilization,
     hence embryonic initiation

     wrought wondrous ultimately vibrant blastocyst
     triggered uterine settlement,
     ripely channeling
     tree men das transition
signaling ovulation to taper off,
    yet not entirely quit

fertilization triggered secretion,
     analogous quasi
     pollination process, qua gossiped
     biochemical romantic tidbit
     activated via powerful
     ****** popgun "hello kitty" visit,

milky dollop hormone
     exquisite in utero exposition,
     human female body electric
     generated chorionic gonadotrophin (hCG),
official warrant issued
     drafting subsequent surfeit

secretion spured double helix spin off
     flawlessly choreographed
     following impregnation,
     whereby molecular sized blueprints
amazingly graceful processes
     promulgated propensities

     prospecting proven
     (survival of the fittest) atavistic properties
     concentrated subatomic activity
engendered secure ankh cur,
     where wick keel lee reader rabbit
burrowed within amniotic

     filled sac didst outwait
nine month journey,
     a real swell gambit
for mother and child,
     thence bundle of joy
     exited birth canal.
Cain Jan 2013
Manning this vessel aimlessly
On open sea that beckons me.
Yet which direction do I set my sails?
According to the wind, if all else fails.
Alas, scar-clad from my ruthless ambition,
Longing to free my shackles of inhibition.
Wishful aspirations of self-deposition, yet
Auspicious sights arising on the horizon.
Julian Aug 2022
A.
Al-Muhaymin Supreme in the Preeminence of retchallop that frankquibbers revile spurned by spumid spurious ratchets of intorgurent wamzels cringing in the halldorn of rallendork simplicity girdled by all apanage of aphnology refracturism exalts. May the belletrist guarded by speos and indentured by vetudas of panopticon in the swoopstakes of jengadangle frapplanked by the frimple of the treecheese swarpollock of majestic retchanvil recumbent upon sockdolager stellified among the supernal supercherie of the superlative floundrewl bodged by facture and totemized by the prism of indemnity that harvests the narthex and with schoenabatic squirebells of ugmentum and the ilkengor of warbled wonderworks might we astound never by ashowel or blackguard by any gammon of aswallone that our trillom of retchination becomes nothing but ecbolic billingsgate contrary to agapism and contrarian because of placomaniacal camorras and the camisades of deturpation never succinct in tribulation in the heyday of interregnum always debunked by the frappern of commerstargal aleatory in the conation of expenditure but never indentilated by the kurgans profound in gravitas but never shallow in thanatousia. We all might gloam with the sondage of soothfast sopiter never crimson in the alluvion of detritus that the lour of lotophagous reskig becomes never a notoriety buoyant upon the navarchy of naturism defiled by sanguisugent tabanids flargent in tanquam tantony fraverscribbles of wrabble and wravvel might expound beyond the idioglossia of ideopraxist probabiliorism lackaday because the callithumpian lognon of pillory suborns the precarious twinge never the prolonged karezza of incumbent providence flictions can never dethrone and fangasts of fashimite grazzly timberlask opportune temerarious spado of the spancel of sphygmotic aspheterism can never aspire beyond motatory providence of blinkered brumbles subordinate to the regulus of reboant hatred.






B.
Glory be to Allah the most munificent bestower of the knells of foraminated carapace and the tachymetry of the cadence of isapostolic porlecked largition in the larithmic finesse never foutering in the aimless maidan maieutic velivolant lairwites of consternation scouring the ravenous matroclinic providence of maunders of dwale and dumose hedges of jengadangle frapplanks motivated by nummamorous flyndrigs always denigrated by the repose of the rapacious lechery of lentiginose bodewash. In the sempervirence of anacusia levied upon anemocracy leveraged upon the patavinity of synquest and rejoinder might the frantlings of the frottage of the depaysed ******* might incur the steepest precipice of penalty rather than the curmudgeons of normative defiliation spancules eradicate and spados despise in their humgruffin houghmagandies with their own parvanimity of prowling constative carnaptious lucriferous caverns beyond blettonism and bleating never with the peenge of tholes of thumomancy. The gricers of modernity in their terriginous turriform thanatousia might they disembark and cowl their gossamer cortinate flargent purpresture that the ashowels never flock with ennobled albatross in the egestuous penitence of too many a penitentiary of peccable stigmatophilia and the growls of tocophobia blinkered upon the deskandent nubigenous novantique of pregromanging deception among casuistry deranged by the chiminage of the antiscian antithalian foison of draconian blaring blarney excoriated only by thumomancy grandeval and sweedle too spartan with contraplex gerendum of tatamae belonging only to the swiven of starstruck imparlance impavid without defalcation and swank with littoral alluvion in the aigers of the holocryptic. Might we always marvel never with a blackguard schadenfreude for the enmity of fossarian shibboleth in the tribance of guarded trekleador and the premundane fascination of the hexaemeron of a truer theodicy rather than a prurient nihilism recursive in obganiation. We might scowl at the scamper of scobiform scabilonian sacrilege in the abeyance of heyday rather than simpered scorn scollardical because of costermonger quilombo we might never be shocked by mammothrept liaison or otherwise predatory mouchards of radicolous raffish rantipole disorder that is proleptical in its dippoldism and protensive in its timberlask kenodoxy of femicide fandangled by the artifacts of treachery rather than the drawflark of the gossamer simplification of ultroneous outrage terreplein upon the cavernous expanse of gloaming scribacious and bibulous parvanimity. May we always frown on the orthodromic ballast of tropoclastic warbles of tilted geotaxis reactionary only in the apagoge of licentious grambazzle because the frimple of dutiful subservience becomes the mainsail of lexers of laveer and never the fateful finifugal paravent of cordial rancor and eisegesis fraternizing with the flarmey of incarcerated denouement rather than treasuries of engouement amen.

C.
Al-Muhaymin guarantor of mercy gilder of preterplufect primogeniture and protector of the depaysed saxifragous emoluments that sashay against the enmity of travesty, may you endow the world beyond nostrification and above the nostrums of quacksalvers that no steep deed is forgotten by the shallow mettle of the emaciated emacity of a gravid tocophobia amasthenic never because of the ribald abderian swarpollock of the treony of trillom and the drawflark of regelation. May you always permit never the barnstorm of the wayspayed regius of the wartles of rindstretch radical in rhizogenic denialism rather than the normalism of sacerdotalism that scavenges the new florilegium for the promontory that beats the skelder of tracasserie riniguss in rintinole alone and apartheid bequeathed by the caesarapropism of all malingered scobiform secodont crambazzled senectitude grafted by the raffish hegira of foison and foudroyant umbrage always a cockshy detested never a perjury racemiferous with scollardical taunts of grating timberlask seminules of new world  denostram in the alloreck of penotherapeutic wamzels of the mangled corpses of pollarchy rescinded by the magnanimity of wragapole whartonized docility and demiurges of the sacrarium never of a pushful jocknee but always a grauncher and grapnel of the pogonips of flatulent deceit flargent only in the purpresture of the noetics of noospheres bowdlerized by an autotelic oligogenics of tramontane subterfuge. We always marvel about rangiferine randan in the superfetation of sublime deeds rather than carnal handfast debaucheries that we might never embody squandermania of coercive squalor fomented by diablerists never tempted by extramundane promise because of inveterate and inscrutable malloseismic thanatism that is only brokered by the ciconine Cinega rather than the promethean escapism and surrealism of a redacted scopolagnia and a rambunctious pallor of nebbich elitism scrambling with audacious temerity never tamed by the ferules of gnapped griffonage in the sempiternal gullarge of toonardical decree never evading its own bilkey of ebriection of periblebsis floundering on mendaciloquence and fropollowing the strollow against magnanimity rather than bequeathing the progeny of omphalism without hyperarchy and hypertrophy without hyperbole. Amen





D.
Al-Muhaymin deposes the glower of the griffonage of orthotropism in the squaloid declension of corruption in tabanid draksting and grambounced lethologica flouting every findrouement of rubricality that the calodemons never cauponate or capernoited by the artifice of bloodthirsty deceit might their foisons glorify upon the earth the cadasters of moral docimasy never fragmentary in decisive gestalt frapperns of sondage, sennet, regulus and the caesarapropism of cognoscenti grimoires of taghairm never embraced by the thumomancy of martexture and the marstions of nuncles of numquid  nubile ophelimity deprived by autocracy rather than reified by the parlance of succinct anonymity never curved by the hebephrenia of the warbled corrugation of sithcundman only wealthy by bolides of dramaturgy and only ennobled by the secodont scollardical flarmeys of debellated aceldama always reproved as a trinkochre  of flarium  never despised in its sondage of avizandum and never deprived of its cacoethes to gallantry never prattling about the nocicepty of tapotement. Might we all find never a vetust torpindage an exhortation to the vitriol of fractious fragmentary periblebsis that scaramouch ruffianism of ragabash and ragmatical histrinkage always docile to reconfiguration and always protean to the nomistic laws of magisterium that we might be redintegrated by gestalt authenticity rather than the forsifamiliation of the temenos guarding sanctanimity from billingsgate and the gate of the hypaethral chapel from the deposition of the delirifacient fracklings of perceived frottage rather than frigolabile naupegical themolysis of tredged trudgery in miscegenated disaster always goading and cadging the suborn of the slogmarch of voluntary eisegesis rather than the sincerity of exegesis that all refracturism in hypertrophy becomes a synclastic synoecy against the jocknee of a nyejay malaise of probabilism curved by the reginkeer of the identity diffusion and dissolution of the carnal temptation regaled only in roorbacks of the heyday of hearsay rather than excorified as a vestige of bronteums of  fulgurant prowess in the selective stirpiculture of a renewal of hymeneal vows of procacity rather than procellous illecebrous naivety that gudgeons of neovitalism revalorized into nihilism incumbent. Might we spawn the polyphiloprogenitive primogeniture never of the frivverscrabble of titanism blackguarded by blinkered gentincture in the frinteran flarmeys of despicable deposition despoiled by tachymetry rather than valor in the timocracy of virtuosity enabled by the enunciation of doctorate taciturn schoenabatic stenotopic virtualasis thriving in purified occamy rather than congealed in the bonnyclabber of false absolution and the dormitage of ventose verdure of clamorous abnegation empowered by egintoch wamzels rather than heroic apothecaries of sublime regard never a quacksalver can outmantle in their pothers of vesuviated outrage and donnybrooks of donnism in squalorformatic beliefs in the vitiation of phanerolagnist declension that they might flinch and shirk and shrive through  forswinked deskandent atrocity and because of frustraneous findrouement become redintegrated again by their balance of eumoireity and eudaemonism. We might not impress by our valetudinarian purpresture and our porlocking portreeve of aeronautical vendetta flippant upon flipsquires never revalorized or regelated by the refocillation of reflation that becomes boundless by tachydidaxy and never contentious by scampers of dacoitage that groundlings alienavesce from because of the graklongeur of the suffrage of the lorgnons and lambastes of the perceived pillor becoming a magnet for the mesmerism of tropoclastic tycolosis and may the typhlophiles renounce their dommerers and dompteuses of tregetour taghairm stellified only because of occult simplicity rather than ultramontane aggiornamento .Amen

E.
The gudgeons of gramercy rather than the efters of the eisoptromania of radical raltention never indentilated by the browbeat of glawson and the timberlask interregnum of grazzly qwestuns of rengall and nauclatic certitude might we all refrain from the profligacy of the renegades and charlatans who maraud mountainous rubricalities of mendaciloquence that fettlers and graunchers of pogonip pogonophiles might charade in their feckless faffle might we all astound with a torpillage of histrinkage rather than cowl with the capers of the camorra of vicissitude flargent in every centupled mendaciloquent halkend of the divestiture of elitism and the pregromanging pontiffs of popinjay and tinjesk ombrophilous fliction marauding in the maunder of the temptation of the wilder windlass wilderness of winterkill trudged by the bodge of the centripetal geotaxis of moral valor rather than deskandent tediums of raffish and ragabash notoriety exculpated only in the humble shrives of atonement for atomkent flombricks of desultory procellous portreeves of tracasserie unbounded by the suborned fatalism of malingering malaise that tregetours prepossess in their feigned and  faineant euhemerism flashy only with finifugal fizzgig of rannygazoo rather than rangiferine fury and feral longiniquity. Might we all shelve the aswallone of the frackling fatewrench of the frogmarch of the licentious lobbyists cavorting in lanais and machairs might their macadamization of radicolous Potemkin leverage become rescinded by the tralleyripped explosion of the abreaction never of mafficked magpiety never of the palisades of patavinity caroused by riniguss and ramparian swarpollock of craven timidity escorted by the penotherapeutic deception of cyprian lackadays never befitting the heyday of the carnage of miscegenated modernity and the prance of terpsichorean promontories of paranoid ausehetoria that might never vanish in the effluvium of ragabash worthless taradiddles of crapulence in the naivety of the bickering vicegods among gauleiters that pretend a conation of celibacy in their oligomaniacal chantage of vangermyte outrage because of hikkling hinkergs in the bray of the jackals of aceldama always requited by the connoiseurs of generative prowess and seminal wizened reflection nostalgic only for junctition and wangermist never the pallor of the bluepomp of draconian hyperarchy. We navigate with arctician oecodomic plashy placets of fouterers in their aimless grumbling that their groaks of crose and their tholes of lackaday lacertilian schadenfreude recursive upon them in accursed malism that they might leverage their hindsight and lollop their foresight without a hint of regret but always pregnant with the remorse of rectiserial limits of troponder shattering every glass ceiling that bluestockings themselves in their harridan humors of sapiosexual pollarchy that they might never feign their diestrus of duty might they never become the fallow novantique of dastardly cadges of imperative but faked drawflarks of trillom in the treecheese of litigable estoppage. Might we all remark with certitudes of cadaster rather than sempervirent fictions of a radical docimasy ruinous with genesiology but always rectiserial in meritocracy. Amen!
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2017
"two birthday presents are better than one"
sayings of the wise men

"and what an honor it is, and how could we be anything greater
(than all too human)?" 
 R.A.

~

for Rebecca, a birthday gift

~
a message of notification,
comes early one evening, an agent provocateur,
a paparazzi peeping tom,
a cat burglar presuming the poet-receiver nat is
a rat-man out and about, galavanting around town,
dancing perhaps, seeing a Pinter play, a movie,
a lecture on string theory, an underground railroad rock concert,
reading a book of priestly poetry, or himself,
lost in a mesmerizing revery of poetic composition

her question, a statement of fact, a reflection,
one or all, all for one, this pronunciation,
a witness deposition re the human condition

the man is knocked askew in about
an instantly,
sitting before the voluptuous fireplace's crackling complications,
fire sensing the multiples of implications,
contemplating the failing honor of human limitations,
sensing the uniqueness of our successes,
a claiming race prize
for all of we humans
in her words

now how great is this knowledge that we,
all to human,
all too human,
need let this then be the first
thought/ message/ notification -
meditation of our every day

that we honor ourselves first,
our upstart blessing,
in order to honor our world
and its bedazzling human creativity


~
We find our poems in many different ways.  Of late,
I keep finding inspiration from the messages that many of you send to me, re the poems I choose to publish here. So I repeat my disclaimer, "any message you send can and will be used as a poem."
vanessa May 2015
You liked a boy with big brown eyes and three older sisters. You were five and you had butterflies. His mother was always very nice to you. He used to call you shrimp and chase you around the playground. He was named after that part of a fish they use to breath. He grew up riding horses and learning to be a man. He didn’t pay you much attention as you got older, but that only strengthened your growing affection for the boy who used to make fun of you because you couldn’t cross the monkey bars. He found out you liked him because it got around one day when you were nowhere to be seen. You were embarrassed and sad, how could people be so cruel. They made fun of your feelings and laughed while you just wanted to run and hide. You felt alone and you were eight. He ignored you after that and looked at you like you were an insect. He ended up braking you.
You liked a boy who sat next to you in homeroom. He was older than you by a few days and had the same buck teeth you did. You were eight and you couldn’t stop staring at the mole by his mouth. You became close and everyone knew it. Two years later things had changed quite a bit. You were now strangers. Your feelings for him still existed, you hid them all this time. He dated one of your best friends. He found out you liked him at ten, you wrote him a letter and gave him your heart. He showed his friends and laughed right in front of you, then ripped it up and threw it in the garbage. He never looked you in the eyes again. He ended up braking you
You liked a boy who lived on your block just one house away. He had black curly hair and skin as pale as a ghost, He looked just like his mom and had the loudest laugh you’ve ever heard. You were nine and he made you feel like a kid in a candy store. He was one year younger but you got along just fine. He’d hangout with you until midnight just staring at the stars. He found out how you felt three years later. He stuck out his tongue and made a disgusted face. He ignored you and when he did speak to you, he was cruel and cold. He ended up braking you.
You loved a boy with a windy deposition and carefully thought up lines. From what you understand you’re the second girl he’s ever loved maybe the first but you’re too awkward to give yourself too much credit. You were thirteen when he took your breath away. He loved you across cities and with each passing year you grew strong together. He said he’d love you like no tomorrow, he spoke too soon because as he grew into a beautiful young man with hazel eyes and soft skin he grew apart from your loving ways and the eyes he used to spend hours getting lost in. He promised you he’d never leave you but then one day he stopped returning your calls. He ended up braking you.
You loved a boy who smoked to not remind himself of how bad he used to get made fun of growing up. You were sixteen and naive when he poisoned your soul. He said he knew what pain felt like because he loved a girl with scales for skin and snakes for hair, but she wasn’t love, she was lust fueled destinations with no intentions of something real. He used you for his addiction of skin on skin but never wanted to hold your hand. He kissed you with no emotion but you were too caught up in him to care. He looked at you like you were meat, not like you were the light of his life. He treated you even worse, he made you hate yourself more than you already did. He said he knew what pain felt like, but then he ended up braking you.
You loved a boy who listened to you like his favorite song and fell in like with your pain. You were sixteen and in recovery from stress related pains and a boy with glass frames. He never said you were the one but he was there so you decided to try. His life wasn’t amazing but it felt that way every time he looked into your eyes. He tried to comfort you from the boys who broke you, saying he too knew what it felt like. His story was the perfect disaster, he didn’t tell you everything but he told you enough until you felt okay again. He said you were the cutest thing he’s ever seen although I guess that’s different than “I promise, I’ll never leave” but maybe thinking you heard him say that instead made you feel better inside. He left you in December, all you had left was his sweater. He never said goodbye all he said was “I can’t do this anymore”. You felt like you were about to die. He ended up braking you.
You loved a boy with curly fry hair soft enough to run your fingers through. You were eighteen and waiting for something special. He said when he first met you he was so nervous his hands were shaking and his voice was cracking like he was twelve all over again, he was only hoping you didn’t notice. He kissed you on your first date together and asked you to be his later that night. He was an open book about his life with you. He called you his little sunflower and listened to your breathing on the phone when you fell asleep. He told you everything would be okay now, he even wiped your tears. He called you drunk one night and told you how scared he was of losing you and that he needed to hold you right that second. Three nights before he left you he took you to the sea and kissed you at the top of the Ferris wheel, you’re favorite place in the world. You felt you heart explode just like the night sky. You were sleeping when you got the message, your heart dropped to the floor. He flew back to the girl with spider web veins who harbored his heart in a jar. He made you feel at peace but then he ended up braking you.
You liked a boy just a few months ago. He wore a leather jacket religiously and slept in between note taking. You were eighteen and seeking someone to heal all past aches. His eyes changed colors but your feelings for him never did. You had so much in common, from music to family right down to your sense of humor. He always looked you in the eyes as you spoke and listened to you like he hung on your every word. You hung out alone only twice together, you were high and when he laid beside you, your insides went insane and you got goosebumps all over again. You were half asleep playing with his hair and he tickled you nonstop. You told him you liked him that same day, you asked for things to not change. He only replied “I kind of figured and I don’t see why we wouldn’t be friends”. You went to school confused only to be ignored for weeks on end by the boy who used to look back at you like you were sunshine. He hasn’t spoken to you since. He ended up braking you.
…I’m sorry my dear…
(v.m)
Vanity!
Vanity!
Vanity!

All i see is vanity!
Wether i cease to breath
or i go on breathing
all there be is vanity!

Whether i choose to write
or i withhold my words
in my thought from my pen to book,
all there be is vanity.

Whether i choose to live
or i embrace the golden path
all i see is vanity.
All there be is vanity.

Vain is you!
Vain is me!
Vain is the world we live
the deposition of God in us
is the point we hold.
For all is vanity.
Mikaila Dec 2012
The most tragic losses aren't the ones that come with fanfare, with reason and justification to grieve, to seek retribution, to go mad and reject the truth.
No, the most tragic losses are the ordinary ones.
Painfully ordinary, they are.
No death, or suffering, or clear cut blame to lay.
Just the rending of a heart, in silence, in stillness, in slow motion.
The most tragic losses don't burst upon you, no, they step, carefully, meekly, into the room, and steal all the oxygen and light from it utterly, and excruciatingly slowly.
They eat away at their subjects.
They ****, but leave no trail, no evidence to pile up and charge against...anyone.
One day, they have simply taken over, become everything, choked all else of its life and beauty.
One day they are just all that is there anymore.

Ever catch a glimpse of an old man's eyes, and see something hollow there?
That is the most tragic loss.
It sits and stares into him, and he sees not your looking, nor anything else.
He sees nothing beyond what has settled before him, that bores into his soul, that clutches cold clawed fingers around his heart
Not suddenly, not shockingly, but tighter by an infinitesimal amount each day over rolling years like waves.
It doesn't have a face,
Doesn't have a name list or a deposition of grievances.
It is beyond definition. We only see its reflection, there, in his eyes, as it holds him.
It exists so completely that it doesn't, except in its image mirrored in a human heart.
That is loss, of the worst kind.
The kind that is forgotten, unmentioned, unimportant.
The kind that consumes lives and evinces hollowness.
It gives no permission to be destroyed, no right to fall apart,
And yet we crumble before it, day by day, into our morning cereal.
And bite by bite,
Our ashes taste like living.
Joseph Childress May 2014
Constantly changing
Like constellations
Through
Seasons
We see son’s
Of our fathers
In the stellar
Configurations
Scientifically
Debating
The reality
Of make-believe

As humans
We strive
To find purpose
I propose
The deposition
Of myths
Are dispositions
In need of disposing
This poses
The belief
That science is all we need

I suppose
Rather
Postulate
Our posture
has change from
Hunchback
To upright
Because
We’re in the right
Direction
Abstract
Ideas
Such as love
Take a back seat
To concrete evidence
Of necessity

Your conception
Of love
Was simply a misconnection
In the synapses
Of your brain
You truly
See me
As a proper mate
For continuation
Of our primates

******
Isn’t conceived
As such
With our fellow
Beings in life
Our nonsense
Perception
In meeting
After death
Is laughed at
In the kingdom
Of animals

If evil
Is ever
The right decision
I guess
Injustice
Can be found
In justice

If righteous
Is ever
The solution
To abuse then
I guess
In retrospect
I can respect
Retribution

Evolving
Into the final human
Is a slow changing
Progress
Mutating
To survive
In the environment
That becomes
Harsh
With our further
Proofs
In the lack of use
For love

The marsh brings
Reptilian
Tendencies
Spewing venom
With split tongues
Awaiting
Full separation
Usurping serpents
Urging the up-rise
Of our final
Being
In love’s insurgence
Hisses
Drown the
Sounds of kisses
And signals
The sign...
We finally evolved.
Dave Hardin Jan 2017
Good Nyet, Soon

Sad late night Tweets
Staged comings and goings
To and from the tower
On Fifth Avenue
Red hat, white hat, ducks ***
Hair-do, sinister Kubrickian sons
The daughter of his darkest fantasies
Pay no attention, shiny surfaces blind
Us to henchmen nominees
Foreign creditors and deals done
In the shadow of onion domes
The Constitution assaulted, old girl
****** and humiliated as if
She were Miss Paraguay or
A high end St. Petersburg call girl
No, keep your eyes on the prize
Investigations and charges
Corruption in high places
Discovery and deposition
Congressional hearings and maybe,
Just maybe, our old pal impeachment.
nate1990 Feb 2016
Just a voice
Inside a void
Of lustful emphasization
His mother quick
To silence him
Before the deposition
In fear of recognition
Of her actions to be held
Accountable for raising another
**** stain like herself.
One time stand
Engraved with blood
Stamped across his head
The quiet voice
Inside the void
Spoke louder as he fled.
"You ******* *****
You wasted me
I never had a chance"
The tiny voice
Inside the void
A Victim
Of romance?
Poor parenting skills.
Lauren Randall Mar 2016
Sometimes, I still wander up to the attic.

Once devoid of purpose, I find that it now acts as a trove,

providing some temporary sanctuary from my gale.

I convince myself that the walls can sense my own fleeting presence.

They know I won't be back for a while.

They tolerate my evanescence as I begrudge them their captives.

Revisiting - never to retrieve, but to deposit just one more thing.

I am sure I elicit some suffocating fear  

of being unearthed again (and again).

I am more than half-tempted to make a break for the door  

as if I were the coward responsible for the deposition of every hunk  

of life or death that now form the walkways in this room.

But then, this is not the maze - I know and I have known.

I am the only labyrinth here, yielding no trace of a thoroughfare.  

I am left smacking into walls more menacing

than the one I will continue to stare through.

Corner after corner after corner,

each its very own long-dead end.
John Hayes Jan 2021
The witness sits waiting
as he walks in, briefcase in hand,
the table lined with lawyers.
He sits, puts down a tablet and pen,
asks for the witness to be sworn in,
and begins.
The pecking order is established.
The questioner is boss
and all embark on the train of
his thought.
'Would you recount for us
the circumstances leading up to
the incident.'
She begins one more time
to recount thoughts and impressions,
superimposed on
dimly recollected facts
whose keen edges
have long dissolved.
Her preparation is as apparent
as a painted door
over the threshold of
the truth.
'You have taken an oath',
he reminds her,
but the lock on the door
clicks shut.
Carefully, then, he makes a small incision
in the web
of aggregated incompatibilities,
and the abscess behind
exudes a purulent glow
through cracks only apparent
to him.
Her lawyer blusters and roars,
attempting to blow out the flickering flame.
But the cover is cleft,
and enough of the truth can be seen
to tip the scale.
John Tan Apr 2020
Be wary of them,
Be wary of their cunning ways,
Don’t be fooled by their cheerful deposition,
Cause behind all those facades,
Lies a cruel heart.

At one glance, you might miss it
As they have a way of luring you in,
So much so that your instincts may fail you,
But fear not, as time will eventually tell.

In time, it will all be crystal clear,
In good time, you shall see
For everything eventually reveals itself.
Charles McCue Sep 2018
When words first granted to my lips
And a soul, to me, bequithed as such
A silent scream change to a whisper
A great big cry, not all I could muster
Woe! to those still dumb and silent
A crazed heart, and self confinement
Gathers all the idle knowlege
Grinds into a raging tempest
To commune with each other not in question
Still my heart begs i should mention
All the wants and need the same
Both we respond to our own name
The difference not in deposition
But from the thoughts to the translation
Words expressed, no rhyme or meter
Helplessly they fall on deaf ears
Not to sound or intonation
But to meaning and explanation
Conversation still creating
A toddler only an adult in making
Just some thoughts now that I am to be a father in February.
Tom Shields Aug 2022
High powered cancer cells keep the phantoms running
across the long table sharks that have stopped swimming
lazily gathering schools of fish that sit on their teeth for roll call
attendance is ecstasy, blood floods the senses and those eyes
as soon as they smell it, that's all they see, every meal a feast
every night an ****, delighting in the prey never knowing
never thinking, there's a killer in an empty suit standing next to me
wining and dining with the enemy, see notes for stacks of C-notes
drones churned out of pressurized trenches with condescending tones
sinking while looking down at the surface, forsaking basic humanity
collapse on your knees, don't ***** a fingernail in the coffin to extend a simple pleasantry
it's high time that you people respect my time, which is what the clock is set to
all these teeth make it hard to sneer at you, these evolved fish eyes can see that you're upset, too
primordial origins ooze forth in the imposter syndrome complex's original sinner's skin
greed, the need to cut the sacrificial lamb's throat, sup of the blood and find
there isn't enough so shepherd more, do it again, and then
the sun itself revolves around this table because I sat down at it!
That's the outcome of the scenario, no matter how you divvy it up,
it's just basic mathematics!
Disturbingly becoming human, equating to weak by the end, fists pounding the table
smirking with frustration, like a dog smiling and dancing on two legs for its food
screaming and wailing in place of a collected bark, a normal whine, taking place in the mind
shocked to see its own fingers it recoils at its visage into stunned silence
no matter where we go, these memories will never let us be
the things that think they have depth because they adapted to the deep
to serve their own ego, alas, there are many more fish in the sea.
write
please read and enjoy
SURETICE TONGUE Jun 2018
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42 of 184

Priesthood...LionQuest

COUCH ALLENS
12/13/17
to samikoku
Priesthood LionQuest…

Ultra-Gifted…New tonques audible

Utterances to an Expected EnD; Under a deserving

PRAISE…; Quantifying  of every deposits=SovereignPRODUCTS

….;7SPIRITCHANTS….;SQUAD-IN-ARKCORPOR­ATION MERCHANDISE THE SPIRITPROGRAMS IN THE INVOCATION

INSIGHTS-IQ TITHING EXPLOITS….SURPLUSINTERESTS

….THE FAITH RENDERING DECENT

….MENUINNOVATION THE PRIORITY OF MANY EXPERTISE

…PILGRIMSFACES REPLACING-ISSUES APPLAUDS.

Visibly decorated in the confronts overwhelming-nutrient…;

STRONGGOD Proven translation into HEAVENSBUOTANCY…

Recurring “Genetic-Going’ in the reality PUSHDIVINITY…: Unveiling

The universality of discipleship mightily in the EMBODIMENT OF

GODLY “Stocks-Attributes” The voted all virtues votes at infancy of

REDEPOSITES TAMED EXCELLENCIES OF AUDIBLEDOUBLE OATHS…;Quantifying believers deposition of interpretations…;Aided in the all “Potential-Pattern-Potency’ The Ego 9 SPIRITPROOF/ SailingColors/ ViSIONANALYSIS/ RHEMA REACHING ******/ DEEPNUGGING DISCOVERIES IN THE INDISPENSABLE TESTIMONIAL…;Reception rescues Advisory in GOSPELTHRILL

CHOSEN THE CORRELATIVE-FORCES…;RESOUNDING THE GOSHEN

CONTINUUM/ YIELDING INCREASESCREATE….;

BOSS-BREATHES  PREVALENCE....'


YOUR  HEAVENS ACCUMULATION-GUIDANCE,



SESSIONS  'STAFF' A WHOLE  ROYALTY CROWN CREST:

email : believingvirtue@gmail.com

+2348131914240


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Sometimes Starr Feb 2019
What are the ingredients in the ink of this pen?
Circle around, and I'm sure
Somewhere in there
My life and death.

Because I draw myself into the day
Unsure of where I'm pulling from
Explodes the universe into space

And only in this swelling space
Could you ever see my face.

Intrinsic ink, one kind of deposition
Something I do but nothing I forever
I, consistent in no way, shape or form
I
Am all arrows, pointing nowhere in different directions

So dance! make up a human life
I have human eyes that dream of unbridled paradise
I have human hands that work the field in front of me
I want to utter precise truths and unite the tribe with alpha-love
I want to spin stories and touch dissonance with a fevered mind
Love the world from raw to polished
The height of the animal,
That is what a human does.
Unity vs. Disconnection
Karisa Brown Apr 2018
The deposition
Repositions us
Dont let it!
while figuratively hunting
and pecking around me noggin
force hum theme to write about
lo and behold, the solution
stared me right in front
of my little **** nub nose with gentle clout

cuz, as an avid bookworm, the dictionary,
I enjoy expending hours
to drink up etymological history
relating to the origin and
historical development of words

and their meanings.
with no shadow of a doubt
and most times, this animatronic,
the technique of making and operating

lifelike robots, typically for use
in film or other entertainment
dogmatic, enigmatic fugee dooby
brother beastie boy
(actually a mwm) dislikes to flout
his abilities, hobbies, interests,

as aches hike kant imagine being treated for gout
a disease in which defective metabolism
of uric acid causes arthritis, especially
in smaller bones of the feet, deposition
of chalkstones, and episodes of acute pain.

Boot lemme return full circle
to thematic core curriculum aye started to aim
and express gratitude
to the ghost of Noah Webster,
who gets credit yet also blame

if some snide haughty guttersnipe,
some slovenly individual feels snubbed,
and hence, living personage, said descendent(s)
of oblivion, whatever unknown
man or woman to living persons

stake a valid claim
that his/her many generations removed
heir (Harris), and or heiress ancestor (proven
with tangible researched reportage,
then cited with countless
prestigious explorers of English language),
that a daunting scrivener perhaps

even a courtesan or rich dame
rightfully ought to receive the fame,
thus such living relative might
upend the huck cult personality be game
to dare challenge secure historical niche

ambitiously held by Mark Roget (1779–1869),
British physician, natural theologian
and lexicographer. It was released
to the public on 29 April 1852.

The original edition had 15,000 words,
and each new matured edition
of the Thesaurus grew larger.
Tenant Dec 2019
A deposition of two
I refer to you as an angel
I refer to you as a sunflower
Kronos may be the god of time,
But time goes by.
you may be an angel
you are no longer my angel
you may be a sunflower
you are no longer my flower

— The End —