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Excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
who the **** are you to say
what information the Government gets
at the detriment of mankind anyway?

Have you forgotten the Bill of Rights?
The 'inalienable' rights we all have?
Do they even ******* matter?
Do they even ******* exist?
I guess not.

What the **** are they doing
pressing this CISPA *******?
Unlawful search and seizure of digital information
and they don't even care for warrants.

Under the guise of National Security
you'd have us all put in Camps or killed
just like we did to the Japanese all those years ago
but we've moved past that... right? Right?
I guess not.
We just keep it all more secretive now:

The people didn't stand for SOPA
and surely not for the NDAA
so what the **** gives you the idea
CISPA will fly, anyway?

Maybe if no one heard about it, it would work...
Maybe that's what you were counting on.

Excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
who the **** are you to say
what information the Government gets
at the detriment of mankind anyway?

*******, Mr. Politician Man
along with your constituents.
*******, Mr. Politician Man
and your endorsements.

The Fourth Amendment requires due process
precluding unjust search and seizure;
but where the **** is due process or justice
in this proposed search at leisure?

You pass new legislation that augments old laws,
so much that they don't even need probable cause,
but not new rights nor protections for the citizenry,
not surprising given your abhorrent deontology:

You'd sooner send drones than diplomats.
You'd sooner stage attacks than be peaceful.
You'd sooner bail out banks than your citizens.
You'd sooner pass a law than change your ******* underwear.

What the **** gives you an inkling of the notion
that a beloved sociopath Politician
deserves your ******* devotion
if they pull this sort of ethical rescission?

Excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
who the **** are you to say
what information the Government gets
at the detriment of mankind anyway?

*******, Mr. Politician Man
along with your constituents.
*******, Mr. Politician Man
and your endorsements.

**** me, Mr. Politician Man,
like you already do behind closed doors.
**** me, Mr. Politician Man
for ever trusting this accursed system.

Well, who the **** are you
trusted making legislation,
you can't even overcome
******* monetary gravitation.

Well, excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
you want the People to become transparent?
Well ******* then, Mr. Politician Man
we want transparency of Government:

I'm sick of not knowing where Tax dollars go,
I'm sick of knowing over a quarter goes to the Military
which is funny in a deeply ****** up way
because I know I may help pay for
the drone that might fly overhead and see me and my friends as insurgents
and launch an IR missile to blow us to bits,
or the bullet that may be sent through my brain
as a distant if more probable than ever result
of your ******* legislation:

And so I say:
*******, Mr. Politician Man,
along with your constituents
for making this a feasibility;
you're supposed to serve the people
but you'd rather put the U.S. in a state of futility.

on behalf of all those you alienate each day,
I wish to extend to you a humble and heartfelt
Go **** yourself.
megan Aug 2018
i think in colours
i only hear your voice
would i be yellow,
if it was your choice?

do you see me?
do you know my name?
my idiosyncracry
it’s making me deranged

if i was a instrument
would you play me?
it’s detriment
and ambivalency

you are strong
and i am weak,
i want to belong,
to your mystique
Joseph Schneider Nov 2014
Distant learning courses in the heart
Irrelevant actions have left us all apart

Acquisitions decaying those stray minded people
It's no longer a commonplace to feel peaceful

Simultaneous occurrences have our mind in disarray
Through our pasts they begin to replay

All these calamitous activities brought through maleficent eyes
Disintegrate what's left sending us in a fools paradise

We reap to elope from these rigorous bearings we call home
Only to find ourselves cast away into the unknown

We strive to survive in a world full of abhorrence
Being seen transparent just as worthless corpses

Those few who prevail are not left without detriment
They are forever severed a mental delinquent

Nevertheless our story lives on
In this godforsaken marathon

-Joseph B Schneider
© Joseph B Schneider. All rights reserved

Life always finds a way to repeat itself, if not through your eyes then through another's.
Austin Yde Jun 2014
The effects of sleep deprivation on the mind
Sometimes depression,
Sometimes bliss,
Inability to focus
Yet the mind rests exactly where it needs to be
I wonder if it is better to remain sane and neutral
Or insane, suffering the ups and downs of emotional detriment?
David Barr Nov 2013
Are acceptance and approval synonymous terms? It is important that we give adequate definition to that which blocks our winding garden path, where foxgloves, lupins and a multitude of botanical dreams can blossom into a gorgeous array of ****** captivation.
If we embrace that which is repugnant, then possibility may not be confined to the cradling arms of the mistress of death.
So, my judgmental and moralistic companion from the sands of Jupiter – if your daughter is a raunchy stripper, then keep your expectations on the leash and preserve your anthropological connectedness, otherwise you may veer into prickly thorns of certain detriment and thereby lose her attachments.
It is incumbent upon us to nourish those fragrant plantations with a careful approach, so that beautiful reproductions will abound in a bouquet of resolution.
Debbie Lydon Feb 2019
I'm told that feeling and love are innate,
So why can't I communicate?
I'm despairing and longing for human connection,
But I'm met with indifference or even rejection.

Internally I harbour thoughts of kindness,
But they wither in the wake of external blindness,
I'm obsessed with truth and authenticity,
And this comes at the detriment of anyone knowing me.

An extreme fear of misunderstanding remains,
Despite me knowing that this is my ball and chain,
A depleting hope lingers on in my dreams,
So fragile and weak, a mere ember it seems.
A poem concerning the difference between the way you are perceived and the way you perceive yourself. A fear of misunderstanding is ever present in a society that is fueled by facades and a cold approach to eachother. It causes pain and this is becoming more and more overt in our day to day lives.
A blank space occupies my existence.
Sleeping alone again.
My hearts thermometer shattered.
I've caught a cold the day you left and I haven't gotten better.
Loneliness is a detriment to the cardiac.
A coffin without its corpse.
The hollowness of an empty hearse.
Both of us know that funerals don't work this way.
We belonged together
you said we'd never be alone again
you said we would never end
you said
you promised
st64 Sep 2013
collector of iron and all things metal
carried without slightest lament
beautiful brown-and-white nag with overflowing mane
clip-clops up and down
every road there is
and even beyond

little doubt exists
of fine ingenuity
of said collector
who wastes no moment nor chance
to scour every luck’s platform
with sharp intuition and assiduous eyes
          an old stove with absent racks
          a precious copper geyser gutted with no fittings
          pine-planks discarded due to skew-cuts
          aluminium pipes abandoned with twisted ends
          old screws with rusty whorls from an recently bucket-kicked geezer’s garage
          parts of a car . . . an ****** gearbox and ancient exhausts
heaps of junk and piles of crap clang on cart
a veritable dump in some eyes but those of
the cool collector who takes all the sweepings in gracious stride
cast-off penalties and chaffs of society’s unwanted

once a week on Saturdays
these wares are parked near the parking lot
for all to approach
to see
a fine spread of legend and lore
     bric-à-brac and books to browse
so many things of interest
     magazines and manuals with miscellany-topics under the sun
     hipflasks of silver and clear-cut carafes
     unused greeting-cards with dressed-up paper-dolls
     rare literature well-thumbed with care
and things you’d sure chuck out
mechanical entrails and shiny things
quite a spectacle to behold
costing a joke but for you
a fraction of today's ha'penny

nobody knows why the quiet collector takes the time of day
to re-inforce that fixture-presence
a kindly soul with half-smile always flirting round the lips
and greets with old-century warmth o'er book-edge, markedly a poem-spine
walking closer to peep curiosity around
relaxed eyes let one be
          no compulsive sales-talk
          no eager-****** hopping
just sitting back in deep hiker’s green fold-up chair
easy posture and half-drooped eyes with soft drink close at hand

the collector really watches all who pass
     who go by on their daily trails with rituals oft unchanged
     who fuss ever-plaintive over facetious deets like school-tasks
as they return their books long overdue while whistling smasher-hit tunes (never to be heard)
     who rush to catch an ever-noisy taxi with their own raucous guards
     who help heaving housewives cursing under breath climb on board
as their groceries groan and nearly drop from overladen plastic bags
     who ignore for now with studious intent the hobos on the pavement there
     who beg lost coins for empty-belly from the tattered purses in bosoms
while others cry out impatient at peripheral nuisances
     who act as indiscreet ‘car-guards’ ostensibly guarding cars, even with folk in it

yes, he watches
and observes with keen eyes yet never obvious
even those who saunter by
with pondering glance and walking stick
even as years have graciously touched their brow
he sees them *tut-tut
the ******* on the wall
like stray-dogs in a pound

once in an often while
this collector who loves a rediscovered hypothesis
to explore the myriad facets of humanity
does an odd turn now and then
when walking to the toilet at the local library
which has parked itself adjacent to this lot
drops a twenty-buck note near the side
and soon joyful sees the utter surprise
when tired high-school kids with sullen backpacks
do a double-take
espy their luck . . . whoo-hoo, look!
their gloomy cloaks of learning plain melts
they take off sure-footed and lighter of heart
and repair to the fish-and-chips shop
they share their vinegary ***** in a finger-licking circle
and amity strong-cemented in a cool memory
that they’d recall with fondness many years later
at their 20th school-reunion
and as grand-dads visiting a dying pal

pangs of hunger satisfied
not only by them

next time
that note will be dropped in the park nearby
where effete winos sleep their lives away
     who ken much and give not a care
     a kind long not recognised
educated derelicts debate on war-merits and erstwhile musicians play melodic arpeggios
sitting in the gentle arbour-shade of mutual acceptance
with chess-mad players
working out strategy in rapt blade-moves
which belie and scorn the forgotten titles to their name
along with Ph.D to boot

when night-time hails - all grows still again
and settles, though just for a nibble of time
it’s pack-up time
the listening collector hears the owl-hoot’s call
and knows the time has come to rest a bit
     for when the morrow dawns
     all neatly packaged in a brand-new gift called day
it’s back on the road again
to observe once more
with trusted nag in tow
clip-clop . . . clip-CLOP

and the collector is the one
the housewives invite with alacrity to Xmas-lunch
the taxi-drivers offer gifts of goodwill
the school-kids give their chips and last treats
the vagrants seek out to share a ciggie and sympa-chat
the grown men visit for esoteric slim-tomes and philosophical advice
the shopkeepers welcome reassuring presence of

yes, this quiet collector
is the inadvertent guest
to shores of the lonely
the too-busy and life-ridden folk
who seek a sweet smile
just once in a while
in a world
where compassion is not justified by its deep-touches of poverty

no fruitless labour
in one who sees little detriment
but senses the full value of
every item’s moment in vanilla-time
while trying always
to catch
the finest one can be

supreme harvest, indeed
yes :)
love . . . love . . . love . . .

S T, 1 September
Happy Spring Day!
And . . . er . . . catch some sun-rays . . . while ye can :)

Sub – entry : 'empty chairs'

Songwriter: Don McLean

I feel the trembling tingle of a sleepless night
Creep through my fingers and the moon is bright
Beams of blue come flickering through my window pane
Like gypsy moths that dance around a candle flame

And I wonder if you know
That I never understood
That although you said you'd go
Until you did I never thought you would

Moonlight used to bathe the contours of your face
While chestnut hair fell all around the pillow case
And the fragrance of your flowers rest beneath my head
A sympathy bouquet left with the love that's dead

And I wonder if you know
That I never understood
That although you said you'd go
Until you did I never thought you would

Never thought the words you said were true
Never thought you said just what you meant
Never knew how much I needed you
Never thought you'd leave, until you went

Morning comes and morning goes with no regret
And evening brings the memories I can't forget
Empty rooms that echo as I climb the stairs
And empty clothes that drape and fall on empty chairs

And I wonder if you know
That I never understood
That although you said you'd go
Until you did I never thought you would
Christopher Lowe Dec 2014
Venomous sentiment
and perilous arrogance
Living in a world
Filled with detriment elegance
Where Selfishness is just
Another prerequisite
Summed up in a word
Descend from Heaven, Urania, by that name
If rightly thou art called, whose voice divine
Following, above the Olympian hill I soar,
Above the flight of Pegasean wing!
The meaning, not the name, I call: for thou
Nor of the Muses nine, nor on the top
Of old Olympus dwellest; but, heavenly-born,
Before the hills appeared, or fountain flowed,
Thou with eternal Wisdom didst converse,
Wisdom thy sister, and with her didst play
In presence of the Almighty Father, pleased
With thy celestial song.  Up led by thee
Into the Heaven of Heavens I have presumed,
An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air,
Thy tempering: with like safety guided down
Return me to my native element:
Lest from this flying steed unreined, (as once
Bellerophon, though from a lower clime,)
Dismounted, on the Aleian field I fall,
Erroneous there to wander, and forlorn.
Half yet remains unsung, but narrower bound
Within the visible diurnal sphere;
Standing on earth, not rapt above the pole,
More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchanged
To hoarse or mute, though fallen on evil days,
On evil days though fallen, and evil tongues;
In darkness, and with dangers compassed round,
And solitude; yet not alone, while thou
Visitest my slumbers nightly, or when morn
Purples the east: still govern thou my song,
Urania, and fit audience find, though few.
But drive far off the barbarous dissonance
Of Bacchus and his revellers, the race
Of that wild rout that tore the Thracian bard
In Rhodope, where woods and rocks had ears
To rapture, till the savage clamour drowned
Both harp and voice; nor could the Muse defend
Her son.  So fail not thou, who thee implores:
For thou art heavenly, she an empty dream.
Say, Goddess, what ensued when Raphael,
The affable Arch-Angel, had forewarned
Adam, by dire example, to beware
Apostasy, by what befel in Heaven
To those apostates; lest the like befall
In Paradise to Adam or his race,
Charged not to touch the interdicted tree,
If they transgress, and slight that sole command,
So easily obeyed amid the choice
Of all tastes else to please their appetite,
Though wandering.  He, with his consorted Eve,
The story heard attentive, and was filled
With admiration and deep muse, to hear
Of things so high and strange; things, to their thought
So unimaginable, as hate in Heaven,
And war so near the peace of God in bliss,
With such confusion: but the evil, soon
Driven back, redounded as a flood on those
From whom it sprung; impossible to mix
With blessedness.  Whence Adam soon repealed
The doubts that in his heart arose: and now
Led on, yet sinless, with desire to know
What nearer might concern him, how this world
Of Heaven and Earth conspicuous first began;
When, and whereof created; for what cause;
What within Eden, or without, was done
Before his memory; as one whose drouth
Yet scarce allayed still eyes the current stream,
Whose liquid murmur heard new thirst excites,
Proceeded thus to ask his heavenly guest.
Great things, and full of wonder in our ears,
Far differing from this world, thou hast revealed,
Divine interpreter! by favour sent
Down from the empyrean, to forewarn
Us timely of what might else have been our loss,
Unknown, which human knowledge could not reach;
For which to the infinitely Good we owe
Immortal thanks, and his admonishment
Receive, with solemn purpose to observe
Immutably his sovran will, the end
Of what we are.  But since thou hast vouchsafed
Gently, for our instruction, to impart
Things above earthly thought, which yet concerned
Our knowing, as to highest wisdom seemed,
Deign to descend now lower, and relate
What may no less perhaps avail us known,
How first began this Heaven which we behold
Distant so high, with moving fires adorned
Innumerable; and this which yields or fills
All space, the ambient air wide interfused
Embracing round this floried Earth; what cause
Moved the Creator, in his holy rest
Through all eternity, so late to build
In Chaos; and the work begun, how soon
Absolved; if unforbid thou mayest unfold
What we, not to explore the secrets ask
Of his eternal empire, but the more
To magnify his works, the more we know.
And the great light of day yet wants to run
Much of his race though steep; suspense in Heaven,
Held by thy voice, thy potent voice, he hears,
And longer will delay to hear thee tell
His generation, and the rising birth
Of Nature from the unapparent Deep:
Or if the star of evening and the moon
Haste to thy audience, Night with her will bring,
Silence; and Sleep, listening to thee, will watch;
Or we can bid his absence, till thy song
End, and dismiss thee ere the morning shine.
Thus Adam his illustrious guest besought:
And thus the Godlike Angel answered mild.
This also thy request, with caution asked,
Obtain; though to recount almighty works
What words or tongue of Seraph can suffice,
Or heart of man suffice to comprehend?
Yet what thou canst attain, which best may serve
To glorify the Maker, and infer
Thee also happier, shall not be withheld
Thy hearing; such commission from above
I have received, to answer thy desire
Of knowledge within bounds; beyond, abstain
To ask; nor let thine own inventions hope
Things not revealed, which the invisible King,
Only Omniscient, hath suppressed in night;
To none communicable in Earth or Heaven:
Enough is left besides to search and know.
But knowledge is as food, and needs no less
Her temperance over appetite, to know
In measure what the mind may well contain;
Oppresses else with surfeit, and soon turns
Wisdom to folly, as nourishment to wind.
Know then, that, after Lucifer from Heaven
(So call him, brighter once amidst the host
Of Angels, than that star the stars among,)
Fell with his flaming legions through the deep
Into his place, and the great Son returned
Victorious with his Saints, the Omnipotent
Eternal Father from his throne beheld
Their multitude, and to his Son thus spake.
At least our envious Foe hath failed, who thought
All like himself rebellious, by whose aid
This inaccessible high strength, the seat
Of Deity supreme, us dispossessed,
He trusted to have seised, and into fraud
Drew many, whom their place knows here no more:
Yet far the greater part have kept, I see,
Their station; Heaven, yet populous, retains
Number sufficient to possess her realms
Though wide, and this high temple to frequent
With ministeries due, and solemn rites:
But, lest his heart exalt him in the harm
Already done, to have dispeopled Heaven,
My damage fondly deemed, I can repair
That detriment, if such it be to lose
Self-lost; and in a moment will create
Another world, out of one man a race
Of men innumerable, there to dwell,
Not here; till, by degrees of merit raised,
They open to themselves at length the way
Up hither, under long obedience tried;
And Earth be changed to Heaven, and Heaven to Earth,
One kingdom, joy and union without end.
Mean while inhabit lax, ye Powers of Heaven;
And thou my Word, begotten Son, by thee
This I perform; speak thou, and be it done!
My overshadowing Spirit and Might with thee
I send along; ride forth, and bid the Deep
Within appointed bounds be Heaven and Earth;
Boundless the Deep, because I Am who fill
Infinitude, nor vacuous the space.
Though I, uncircumscribed myself, retire,
And put not forth my goodness, which is free
To act or not, Necessity and Chance
Approach not me, and what I will is Fate.
So spake the Almighty, and to what he spake
His Word, the Filial Godhead, gave effect.
Immediate are the acts of God, more swift
Than time or motion, but to human ears
Cannot without process of speech be told,
So told as earthly notion can receive.
Great triumph and rejoicing was in Heaven,
When such was heard declared the Almighty’s will;
Glory they sung to the Most High, good will
To future men, and in their dwellings peace;
Glory to Him, whose just avenging ire
Had driven out the ungodly from his sight
And the habitations of the just; to Him
Glory and praise, whose wisdom had ordained
Good out of evil to create; instead
Of Spirits malign, a better race to bring
Into their vacant room, and thence diffuse
His good to worlds and ages infinite.
So sang the Hierarchies:  Mean while the Son
On his great expedition now appeared,
Girt with Omnipotence, with radiance crowned
Of Majesty Divine; sapience and love
Immense, and all his Father in him shone.
About his chariot numberless were poured
Cherub, and Seraph, Potentates, and Thrones,
And Virtues, winged Spirits, and chariots winged
From the armoury of God; where stand of old
Myriads, between two brazen mountains lodged
Against a solemn day, harnessed at hand,
Celestial equipage; and now came forth
Spontaneous, for within them Spirit lived,
Attendant on their Lord:  Heaven opened wide
Her ever-during gates, harmonious sound
On golden hinges moving, to let forth
The King of Glory, in his powerful Word
And Spirit, coming to create new worlds.
On heavenly ground they stood; and from the shore
They viewed the vast immeasurable abyss
Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild,
Up from the bottom turned by furious winds
And surging waves, as mountains, to assault
Heaven’s highth, and with the center mix the pole.
Silence, ye troubled Waves, and thou Deep, peace,
Said then the Omnifick Word; your discord end!
Nor staid; but, on the wings of Cherubim
Uplifted, in paternal glory rode
Far into Chaos, and the world unborn;
For Chaos heard his voice:  Him all his train
Followed in bright procession, to behold
Creation, and the wonders of his might.
Then staid the fervid wheels, and in his hand
He took the golden compasses, prepared
In God’s eternal store, to circumscribe
This universe, and all created things:
One foot he centered, and the other turned
Round through the vast profundity obscure;
And said, Thus far extend, thus far thy bounds,
This be thy just circumference, O World!
Thus God the Heaven created, thus the Earth,
Matter unformed and void:  Darkness profound
Covered the abyss: but on the watery calm
His brooding wings the Spirit of God outspread,
And vital virtue infused, and vital warmth
Throughout the fluid mass; but downward purged
The black tartareous cold infernal dregs,
Adverse to life: then founded, then conglobed
Like things to like; the rest to several place
Disparted, and between spun out the air;
And Earth self-balanced on her center hung.
Let there be light, said God; and forthwith Light
Ethereal, first of things, quintessence pure,
Sprung from the deep; and from her native east
To journey through the aery gloom began,
Sphered in a radiant cloud, for yet the sun
Was not; she in a cloudy tabernacle
Sojourned the while.  God saw the light was good;
And light from darkness by the hemisphere
Divided: light the Day, and darkness Night,
He named.  Thus was the first day even and morn:
Nor past uncelebrated, nor unsung
By the celestial quires, when orient light
Exhaling first from darkness they beheld;
Birth-day of Heaven and Earth; with joy and shout
The hollow universal orb they filled,
And touched their golden harps, and hymning praised
God and his works; Creator him they sung,
Both when first evening was, and when first morn.
Again, God said,  Let there be firmament
Amid the waters, and let it divide
The waters from the waters; and God made
The firmament, expanse of liquid, pure,
Transparent, elemental air, diffused
In circuit to the uttermost convex
Of this great round; partition firm and sure,
The waters underneath from those above
Dividing: for as earth, so he the world
Built on circumfluous waters calm, in wide
Crystalline ocean, and the loud misrule
Of Chaos far removed; lest fierce extremes
Contiguous might distemper the whole frame:
And Heaven he named the Firmament:  So even
And morning chorus sung the second day.
The Earth was formed, but in the womb as yet
Of waters, embryon immature involved,
Appeared not: over all the face of Earth
Main ocean flowed, not idle; but, with warm
Prolifick humour softening all her globe,
Fermented the great mother to conceive,
Satiate with genial moisture; when God said,
Be gathered now ye waters under Heaven
Into one place, and let dry land appear.
Immediately the mountains huge appear
Emergent, and their broad bare backs upheave
Into the clouds; their tops ascend the sky:
So high as heaved the tumid hills, so low
Down sunk a hollow bottom broad and deep,
Capacious bed of waters:  Thither they
Hasted with glad precipitance, uprolled,
As drops on dust conglobing from the dry:
Part rise in crystal wall, or ridge direct,
For haste; such flight the great command impressed
On the swift floods:  As armies at the call
Of trumpet (for of armies thou hast heard)
Troop to their standard; so the watery throng,
Wave rolling after wave, where way they found,
If steep, with torrent rapture, if through plain,
Soft-ebbing; nor withstood them rock or hill;
But they, or under ground, or circuit wide
With serpent errour wandering, found their way,
And on the washy oose deep channels wore;
Easy, ere God had bid the ground be dry,
All but within those banks, where rivers now
Stream, and perpetual draw their humid train.
The dry land, Earth; and the great receptacle
Of congregated waters, he called Seas:
And saw that it was good; and said, Let the Earth
Put forth the verdant grass, herb yielding seed,
And fruit-tree yielding fruit after her kind,
Whose seed is in herself upon the Earth.
He scarce had said, when the bare Earth, till then
Desart and bare, unsightly, unadorned,
Brought forth the tender grass, whose verdure clad
Her universal face with pleasant green;
Then herbs of every leaf, that sudden flowered
Opening their various colours, and made gay
Her *****, smelling sweet: and, these scarce blown,
Forth flourished thick the clustering vine, forth crept
The swelling gourd, up stood the corny reed
Embattled in her field, and the humble shrub,
And bush with frizzled hair implicit:  Last
Rose, as in dance, the stately trees, and spread
Their branches hung with copious fruit, or gemmed
Their blossoms:  With high woods the hills were crowned;
With tufts the valleys, and each fountain side;
With borders long the rivers: that Earth now
Seemed like to Heaven, a seat where Gods might dwell,
Or wander with delight, and love to haunt
Her sacred shades: though God had yet not rained
Upon the Earth, and man to till the ground
None was; but from the Earth a dewy mist
Went up, and watered all the ground, and each
Plant of the field; which, ere it was in the Earth,
God made, and every herb, before it grew
On the green stem:  God saw that it was good:
So even and morn recorded the third day.
Again the Almighty spake, Let there be lights
High in the expanse of Heaven, to divide
The day from night; and let them be for signs,
For seasons, and for days, and circling years;
And let them be for lights, as I ordain
Their office in the firmament of Heaven,
To give light on the Earth; and it was so.
And God made two great lights, great for their use
To Man, the greater to have rule by day,
The less by night, altern; and made the stars,
And set them in the firmament of Heaven
To illuminate the Earth, and rule the day
In their vicissitude, and rule the night,
And light from darkness to divide.  God saw,
Surveying his great work, that it was good:
For of celestial bodies first the sun
A mighty sphere he framed, unlightsome first,
Though of ethereal mould: then formed the moon
Globose, and every magnitude of stars,
And sowed with stars the Heaven, thick as a field:
Of light by far the greater part he took,
Transplanted from her cloudy shrine, and placed
In the sun’s orb, made porous to receive
And drink the liquid light; firm to retain
Her gathered beams, great palace now of light.
Hither, as to their fountain, other stars
Repairing, in their golden urns draw light,
And hence the morning-planet gilds her horns;
By tincture or reflection they augment
Their small peculiar, though from human sight
So far rem
lila Apr 2019
it started off innocent enough
i heard the jokes
stage whispered into eager ears
and the muffled laughter
that inevitably follows
i felt every syllable
claw their way down my throat
i’ve been trying to reach them ever since

i admit this to you
in a body that buries bones
the dull corners not enough
to trigger your concern
no one looks at me and sees empty

seventh grade, twelve years old
i began skipping lunch
because i didn’t need it anyway
4 years later and
i guess i still don’t
this was my first venture
into restriction fueled by insecurity
because with a body like this
no one could ever love me

it’s so easy to say
i already ate
if i word it just right
no one asks questions when i disguise
my madness as magic
step right up! come and see
this body, the greatest freak show on earth
and i’ve mastered every trick in the book
so easy it is now
to conceal the dark magic
while i showcase the light

i’ll swallow blades and fire
and nothing else
i’ll regurgitate miles of handkerchiefs
in front of your very eyes
so you don’t notice what comes up after

the slight of hand
was the hardest to master
but now i perform it with ease
i can make this food disappear
before you even notice it was there
palm it in my hand
hide it in my napkin
bury it in the trash
where you'll never see it again
aren't you mystified by the unknown?

nothing can beat my greatest trick of all
a necromantic resurrection
of a dead thing
a zombie now walks
among the living
the parasite finally killed the body
it possessed

it latched onto my brain
thrived on my detriment
took and took and took
until there was nothing left of me
i was consumed by something
that was consuming me
this thing
that i've grasped onto for control
has grasped onto me
i've been reduced to nothing more
than my efforts to reduce myself
the parasite becomes the host

i heard the comments
and took them as compliments
gasoline poured onto an open flame
that i can't seem to put out
i thought this fire would extinguish
as the comments morphed to concerns
but that only made it burn brighter
and i'm not sure
how much longer
i can take this heat
shattered porcelain is still beautiful right?

piece me back together
but i'll never be the same
spiderweb fractures across
fragile skin may never fade
but maybe weeds
can still sprout through
i can paint daisy chains across my scars
and roses in the hollows of my collarbones
wildflowers grow
from the inside out
through the cracks in my flesh
and in the valleys between each rib
slow and steady
up my throat until i choke
but that's okay because
at least it wasn't food
i'll swallow bouquets
to keep my starvation in full bloom

the rumble in my stomach
became my favorite song
a national anthem
for a living hell
that brings life to these monsters
if you are what you eat
maybe i can be nothing

i dance around the word "anorexia"
like it's cursed
because i can't seem to admit
that this disease
has devoured my mind
and made every one of my thoughts its own
so i dress my words
in pretty metaphors
and tie beautiful syllables
around my sickness like a bow

but there's nothing beautiful about
hair that falls out when it's touched
and a body racked with chills
in a warm room
there's nothing beautiful about
losing everything
that matters most to you
friends, family
even the ability to have children
there's nothing beautiful
about ***** on your hair
and on your clothes
blood dripping from your nose
or that ache that lies
deep in your brittle bones

this disease is not beautiful
broken isn't beautiful
but darling
you are
Em MacKenzie May 2017
I'm looking for you on the crowded streets,
that are all full with the car's blinding lights,
and the wandering souls that aren't complete,
well, they just pass right through my sight.
The voices all turn to a slur, each word seeped in pure dread,
and my sight begins to blur, I need to get this all out of my head.

When the tears are fresher than air, and the hurt is always there,
I know there's a happy place, I just have no clue where.
When the words hit like a shot, the wounds won when I fought,
I'm giving it all but there's not much that I've got.

I'm searching for peace in an empty room,
the walls echo and bounce back my ragged breath,
and the blue skies still seem to hold some gloom,
as life will always have it's death.
"It's the release I crave," I always say to myself,
now it's time to be brave, and put fear on the shelf.

When the tears are fresher than air, and the hurt is always bare,
I've got a million problems, if you need some I can share.
When the words hit like a shot, the wounds bubble from the spot,
I'm going against everything that I was taught.

If she stays by me, I should be alright.
The sky's ablaze I see, and it shines so bright.
If she stays by me, I should be alright.
With the days passing, I always pray for night.

When the tears are fresher than air, and the hurt becomes a prayer,
My mother always told me that life is never fair.
Tyler Derksen Oct 2011
O my sacred,
Shower me with your greatness.
Bring it up to my neck,
And drown me in the lake bed.

O how secret, and so delicate,
Fear in trust involved.
It's not a secret anyways,
If nothing's getting solved.

I love, I trust, I need you,
In fear I live all time.
My words in hope to mean them,
So that you'll say "You're mine"

O my sacred,
Take myself and make it yours.
This day is nothing to you,
Your love fills my empty lake bed.

A love, that's secrets tale,
One month, forever it lasted.
The tale of two, of many,
At each other, love was blasted.

No one way to say it right,
Four ways to say I Love You.
Just take me as I am,
And know that I'm thinking of you.

O my sacred,
Unto you I do trust.
No lake bed full of:

doubt, anger, mistrust, jealousy, regret, pain, hurt, love, hate, lust, health, disease, space, time, pity, indulgence, sorrow, mourning, evil, distress, affliction, trouble, breaks, insignificance, remorse, agony, peril, skeptics, insecurities, uncertainty, question, suspicion, difficulty, dilemma, depression, belief, worry, conviction, cruelty, discredit, hesitation, unhappiness, calamity, travesty, grief, hardship, loss, suffering, weeping, sadness, heartache, lament, excruciation, torture, soreness, discomfort, penalty, torment, torture, harm, malicion, malevolence, prejudice ,detriment, disservice, misfortune, abuse, effort, labor, endeavor, strength, power, energy, operation, mistreat, undermining, blemish, flaw, disservance, misery, injury, exertion, struggle, trial, madness, wrath, rampage, harassment, irritation, exasperation, rage, tantrum, infuriation, mischief, inequality, alienation, aggravation, annoyance, contagion, trauma, damage, insults, violation, wrong, flesh, or ****.

...ANYTHING between us,
Vanquished because I must!
st64 May 2013
and so, what do we see?


We see...
Their planet is third from the source
That it still takes sunlight 8 minutes and 20 seconds to reach Earth
So, they're not as koodauzled yet
Thus, stable (for now)
Despite the polar melts and atmospheric fumes....

We see.....
Stick-like appendages still grow out of extensions
At the end of long, dangly limbs
With hard yet pliable, translucent growths at end
To use for countless tasks.

We see....
They still consume: plants....and animals
No change there.
Yet, now ....less subsistence
More modified products to eventual detriment.

We see....still
They engage in warfare, of all kinds
Air, ground, mental, cyber, chemical....
No end to barrage of senseless acts
Violence is slippage as means to commune.

We see...
Some figures more gaunt than others
A kind of poverty of the inside duels external opulence
Deep clutter and subsequent wasting
Twisted fragments of utter decay increasing.

We see....
More enterprising ventures in communication
From lightbulb to phone to pads
Neat advancements in technology and science
From many kinds of wheels to flight.

We see...
Their offspring subject to long years in learning
To maintain (by rote) their disproportionate rules and ready values
Propping equations and formulae into heads
Castaways on a rickety boat in a deep sea of confusion.

We see....
Amidst beauty of their art in all forms
Of dance and music, visual and written
Other forms of entertainment are demeaning to some
Mind-numbing staring and raucous outbursts.

We see...
Figures of peace reduced considerably
Voices erstwhile strong and fearless, full of candour and truth
Now, fashionable puppet-sticks of media
With regurgitated rhetoric a-spew.

We see.....
Mother Nature and geriatric folk not as cared for
Neglected and (..)used
How long before this greed catches up....
Afore progeny be heirs to blight.


We see not....
Enough of

Forward Thinking
Inner Consciousness

Not nearly enough.


We long to reach out and touch the centre of their being
And share fruits of universal wisdom
And steer all away from adversity.

Yes, we long so
For them to see.....


Not yet....

All so easily done....but
They are not yet ready.....but
One day...


We will continue to observe
They know not we may be among them

to return on the Aurora in a few light-seconds

S T,  6 May 2013

(dedicated to outridin' light)

as Mr. Lintnaar (my ol' Math teacher:) used to say

just a silly poem, is all.

A must-see film (if only the introduction) ......"The Gods Must Be Crazy"

/ / /


One light year (a measure of distance, not time) = 365 x 12 x 4 x 3 x 30 x 7 x 24 miles

The sun is 93 million miles from Earth (or 149 668 620 km)

Earth to Alpha Centaurus (closest star system to our sun) = 4,3 light years

/ / /

Speed of light = 186 000 miles per second

One mile = 1,6 kilometres

1 light minute (the distance it takes light to travel in one minute) = 17 987 547.5 kilometres

1 light year = presently defined to be equal to precisely 31557600 light-seconds

/ / /


((((((((((: thank you for reading :))))))))))
They keep throwing things at my face
Running away from this toxic place.
I plead and ask for a confrontation...
Nothing to do but accept this mutation.

They've been away now, for far too long
Maybe it's me, that they see is wrong.
I never deserved this kind of treatment,
but it's what they do for their own entertainment.

I know I'm human, not a toy nor a pet,
but it's all the cruelty and the insults I get;
Snickering and bickering at my every detriment
Always saying: I'm just a failed experiment.

They won't come near me, never again.
The terror in their eyes, they'll forever retain
Seeing the beast that I've now become
The wrath I've held in, I finally succumbed.
They gave me things I never really needed.
And took all the things I needed the most.

© Cyrille Octaviano, 2015
Carmelo Antone Feb 2012
Regrettably recording these words,
I’m not a poet or else this would probably flow,
Though I could care less if you don’t want to hear what I have to say

Because I’m comforted by a chance to reason the existence of a soul,
So I could care less if you don’t need to be told that, I’m human and oh so vulnerable
What more can I ask for?

Able to feel the consequence of lusting for something more,
I’m lucky enough to have escaped the 21st century womb,
And avoid the convenience of a couple cuddling with a contraceptive

Understanding that I might just get one chance to say,
I’ve wanted to make the most of my time
Since I’m physically deprived,
What more can we ask for?

Not sure what will happen when these lids seal eyes that were once bloodshot,
I’m so scared of what lies after a life,
My molecularly defected design,

So I must reconcile with the fact that,
My chance to survive without a heart and mind,
Depends on how I use this time,
As we look for the divine our intelligence derived,

Glad to possibly experience the consequence of stepping out of line,
So I could care less if you think I’m a detriment to society
Since I desire to exist beyond the confines of what can be physically defined,

Happy to discover that the divine was not stamped on the penny or the dime
I’m now comforted by the consequences of being materialistically maimed,
Because I didn't find spirituality through Sunday sips of wine

Almost six feet down and comforted by our unknowns,
Maybe you’ll remember me if you made sense of this,
Because I’ve been counting the days before I’ll realize,
If I made the most of my existence
Poem taken from student portfolio
to my detriment
I scribe excrement
this experiment
with excrement
hath lead to my detriment
I can circumvent
the detriment
by discontinuing
my experiment
with excrement
The rain pours heavy on my windowpanes; it is only through the darkness that I realize what pain truly means. The sorrow, the lack of luster in everyday that has changed and I fear for those who do not yet know what madness life brings. It is nothing yet everything to understand what suffering brings. The state of darkness looming upon wake, and when the dreams of your subconscious mind come to life and haunt you day by day, I fear for those who do not yet know real pain. The loss of someone you love being ripped away, so abruptly; worse than a Band-Aid on fresh wounds, so terribly worse than seeing someone you love fall deeper and deeper into the chasm of their own demons, like a well you’re drowning and eventually succumb to frightening disdain. One realizes that everything in life isn't truly the same, change is the only constant in this delirious world of contradicting facsimiles.

You have nothing but hope and faith in this world of detriment. And I hope someday you find what you're truly looking for, whether it be love or the meaning to life. But never forget who you truly are, regardless of the pain and the tears that washed away the innocence of your years and fears. I am truly sorry for what you have endured, but I cannot look back anymore, nor ponder upon those heart wrenching fears you called my own, of which I cannot call my own. You must own them like cheap records, and let them die in the night like the decades of musical loss and dying discords.  You must find yourself in this beautiful world, never give up on everything wonderful. For you are worth much more than words, much more than anything I could ever endure.
© 2014 Christina Jackson
Crimson fades away into a sensation of touch
As silence reigns admissibly
Courage stakes a privileged claim insomuch
To become known as chivalry

Existence of noble-spiritedness speaks of gentle blue
Drifting in on courtesy divine
Magnificent to behold, never given quite its due
Delicious as a fruit
Upon a vine

Majestic is the profile of chivalrous comportment
Daring held within a gentle sign
A quietness that speaks to hush the detriment
Stirring among the crimson
In my mind

Crimson fades away, hushed by your presence
Upon your gentle blue I feed
Your gracious strength completes my essence
Silently you consume
All crimson shades
In me
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
Sierra Tennant Mar 2016
They called her depression
Not for the way her long hair trailed limply behind her
Or for the way her boney hands shook
They called her depression
Because her empty grey eyes followed you
Because her blue nails were chipped and brittle
Because every time she brushed her hair clumps would fall out
They called her depression
Because she wasn't a girl
She was her disease
She was a ghost
She was a skeleton
She wasn't human
They called her depression
One day
She said she wanted to die
"Ah, we'll call her suicidal than"
They mindlessly bobbed their heads in confirmation
They liked that name
They called her suicidal
Because every time her sleeve fell up
Deep scars and gashes were visible
They called her suicidal
Because her grades fell
Her ambitions fell
Her emotions disappeared
They called her suicidal
And the day she was found
Two identical slashes on each arm
Nobody was surprised
They use to call her depression
But they don't call her anything now
Jeremy Bean Nov 2014
The forbidden fruit
has long since
rotted from the vine

The Face in evanescence lain
Is more distinct than ours—
And ours surrendered for its sake
As Capsules are for Flower’s—
Or is it the confiding sheen
Dissenting to enamor us
Of Detriment divine?
Susan Hunt Oct 2009
JACOB’S LADDER (Written by Susan J. Hunt 09-29-09)

I’ve been told I have no coping skills
More than a few times. It’s the same old line.
Then what the hell am I doing here?
I’ve survived up to this time.

A big fat zero, the test spits out.
Yep, that’s me no coping skills, probably ready to ****.
I have nothing to help me become my best.
Honesty is an asset, but doesn’t appear so from the tests

So sometimes, I have to lie. I don’t like to, but I must.
Otherwise they’ll t to run at me with a restraining jacket
Before I jump out a two-story building and land in the brush.

I’m very quick and wily.
That’s got to count for something.
I break no bones and run away.
All are amazed at my escape.

That’s what I’ve learned as coping skills.
I drink and do other sins, but I would never ****
Even to my detriment, I just don’t have that will

I’m not crazy. I’m not insane. I just see things differently.
I’m not Sybil or Ted Bundy, I just have issues within me
The fact is, I see more harm, I carry it inside of me

I’m working on my coping skills
and my social skills as well.
I’m working on them the best I can.
So far, it’s gone not so well

You couldn’t tell how sick I am
as we cross the street and pass.
Not that I would harm you,
I would offer you my flask.

My sensitive nature is on overload
I see every misdeed
Not that it matters much,
I’m too involved with me.

There must be a way to crawl out of this pit
I need a Jacob’s ladder.
May I become more alive and aware
Of how I can sincerely, matter.
EgoFeeder May 2013
His beckoning intro was that of something beyond me;
As to what he was addressing and Why was a mystery
Oh great one I see; Please cast thee your secret!
And, I'll give you my body to cover thy debt!

I glanced into his bottomless eyes with a firm valor
and his seriousness began to fade into a ranting of dalor
Not once have I seen gallantry as such from an initiate!
Perhaps you are worthy to become as us - A satiate!

Let me just interpret the stars in which you're habituated;
Put forth your hand so I can determine what I've insinuated
So, I reached forward with my palm upright without a stutter
He examined my veins closely and then commenced again to mutter

Aha! You lurk in the lunar water as the empathetic serpent!
You're the omitter of vice and the keeper of the cowards repent!
And the flawlessly imperfect number of twelve marks your birth!
You hold the primal apprehension for the inhabitants of earth!

You're purely one step away from the beyond of thirteen;
And, Alas to cease without satiety is to restart the scene
That number is the sum of all that isn't and is to be;
To walk in that field of shadow is to befit one with thee!

How shall I befall my ****** functions and absorption?
I purposed with an uncertain query and a botching motion;
arousing a solicitous tension into the brisk night air
In which our duo could do naught but trade stare-to-stare

For he infallibly knew the answer to what I had postulated;
and the speechless exchange was the pattern that it vindicated
As I waited for his response to our silent wandering;
I gained a steadfast interpretation to it's ineffable meaning!

As he had before mentioned that what I sought was slumber;
and to what had prohibited me from that lay within my number!
I was to pursue and slaughter the cause of thy miseration;
but to what had substantially done so was up to contemplation

Before I could inquire further he stomped my speech with revel
Your lack of morality has imposed the question and asked it well;
And your efficacious deduction has left the first step resolved!
The second is to seek out your ailment and leave it dissolved!

This quest may prove to be a detriment to your psyche;
but, alas it's essential to slay the loss in your memory
So, if you will - sift through your known recollection -
and recover the culprit of your deprived affection!

So, aimlessly I treked through the past of my personal lineage;
Shoving away the wasteful remains of the plentiful foliage
There stood an assembly of forgotten friendship and romance;
and the single act that sung so softly was that skin-on-skin dance

Emerging from the assortment of lost games and innocence;
My original paramour cast her stainless beauty and essence
Moving her limbs onto my own caressing my mind with sensation;
And, alas I've no choice but to show her to a violent desolation..
Carter Ginter Jan 2014
It's mind versus defenses
Nowhere near consensus
Except that something is wrong in the offenses.
My memory is burning away
Strained and begging to stay
Rarely able to remember what happened yesterday.
I can't do this forever
It's a detriment to me and her
And it's destroying me for sure.
There's no way to apologize
For this situation's size
Because I'm under that much disguise.
There's no turning back this time
The decisions have been all mine
And it's the time for me to shine.
Only in the light of a liar
And I've already began to tire
But I swear no one will see my desire.
No, no one could even try;
As they believe the lie
They'll never see how much I really want to die.
A huge analogy of a soldier deciding whether to enter the battle (of which is his own fault). Im at war with myself and I am now facing my decision, which is its own battle, without fear of the result, despite my current mental exhaustion.
I'm trapped in sun scourged  skin
Fighting to get out. Screaming for  benevolence
Confound by the  phobia of my appearance
Struggle for success should I be a street opportunist
Sale dope like my Dad did
Walk the line between life and death can you believe my dads dead
A walking  stereotype and be what there assuming
You ever try to swing at a fast ball disguised as an underhanded pitch
Swing and miss pain sets in
I'm bleeding in hopes of true equality
You see my people were still in chains
Deaf to the freedom bells
Colonials were children of a country
Battles fought for freedom released from there parents reign
My ancestors were  stripped from  soil dragged across the sea
To new plains force to be slaves
Some my view this as tasteless and lame
But it’s the truth
Asphalt skinned products working in fields barefoot no timberland boots
I send prays up and salutes out to the troops
Cause if we switched shoes
 I’m not sure if I would do it for you
Cause I don’t see innocent faces
I see innocence taken
Cops are cruel cults cause communities to be complacent
Conditioned to be racist
A people treated like Jesus stripped naked
A people where knowledge use to be sacred
Now money driven like I never made it to my graduation
But you see this money I’m making
I am caking
Cards of independence
An illusion it’s really assistance
Do we know that its fraud
To trade money for independence cards
Taking tax money doesn't erase the odds
Liberty by the hands of man is flawed
I was formed in this soil pushed out of America's womb planted my feet from birth
Kiss with this dying flesh destined to be treated like dirt
America a false independence since its start
You will only find freedom in the face of God
Pursing him with a  passionately postured heart
Angels sing when we say yes
Independence in Christ he paid for our freedom with his flesh
Despite all the political jargon
Screaming and freedom marching
Gods independence is like stars and space its infinite
Earthly independence in all its splendor compared to that is limited
Latching to this life's liberty is like licking
a limp liquored in leprosy
A  detriment is a  understatement
Put more hope in a representative than Christ . below the mason dixon an under states men.
Wars get fought for freedom
Bodies stack up for freedom
Money gets spend for freedom
How does peace gets forsaken for the sake of freedom
A fable is still a lie..
I wonder if animals in a preserve can recognize that they not in the wild
Gates open and chains broken when aligned with Christ in his Kingdom
Eli Nash May 2014
Bells that chime with malcontent
shall toll the sounds of dread.
Whistles cry with detriment;
the hour of death's ahead.

Fields are razed, and valleys hazed;
miasma shall ensue.
Mountains crumble; end of days
rides 'pon the heels of doom.

Death has come for everyone;
no cornerstone unturned.
Putrefy to purify;
with blood, your lakes shall churn.

Sanctity's naught but a dream;
rescind your factions few.
It's all for one to come undone,
and all shall burn with you.

Clouds aflame, for in His name
the sky comes thund'ring down.
And when this land rests in His hand,
He'll take our throne and crown.

Tyrant-force with no remorse;
from out the sea, He'll rise.
He leads His thrall to conquer all,
with fire in His eyes.

Apocalypse shall head the Styx;
the river shall run high.
And to the banks, you stand in ranks
and heed Lord Charon's cry,

"File in, all ye of sin."
His cackles crack the trees.
*"Thy Earth undone, my kingdom come.
Now sunder unto me."
Adele Aug 2014
The day blister as the sun followed 'er.
No shade nor a parasol as she goeth an' hope for evanescent heat
A basket in 'er hand, one way to marketplace

'Alt! A mad horse kicked thro'
Dropped on earth, dirt in 'er sleeves
"Gawd o' all horses keep yer eyes open to see!"

A fine young man bowed down for repent about his detriment ride.
O! Poor little thing!
A thorough water in the basket she offered for 'er long little journey.

**! The vigor horse galloped an' circle round she.
'twas a good thing an' he proffers honourable  ride.
There goes the curtsy 'off in the marketplace' says she.

Alt! The creature pause. Where is this? "thy big heart shalt hail for I, present thankfulness. Devoting thy fortune." the prince rendered his throne bounteously.

O! Applause how majestic upclose a palace could be.

'tis she wish e'er since. To seek for a lost playmate, hoping for camaraderie. Remembering in that small village where the little prince sneaked. Oh dear! 'Twas he!

Aye! The prince hoped the same an' knew all of a sudden. He made 'er his wife!

(An' they live happily e'er after. Bow)


I was reading some classic poems and I said to myself, I want to become one! An avant-garde kind of writer. There, I started writing something 'classic' that ends up into a fairytale lol. Funny, I tried :[
Marsha Singh Feb 2011
Cue our story halfway through,
without the benefit or detriment of history—
affinity, no past attached;
you don't know me, I don't know you,
but yet, we do.
I’m not a *******.
I’m sorry I still live here.
I wasn’t drinking your whiskey.
Now I’m drinking your whiskey.
You nearly ended us.
You make more excuses than I ever have.
You think you’re a queen.
I still love you dearly.
Every word you say is distasteful.
I could write a book with your negativity.
You inspired this negativity.
At what point did you turn into such a *****?
You say I’m worthless and undeserving.
You used to get drunk and say sorry.
Now you get drunk and turn your cheek.
I’m sorry I’ve been such a detriment to our finances and everything else.
I’m sorry I’ve scared you.
Were you even scared?
I believe you were.
Yes, I smoked a cigarette in the house.
And no, I didn’t go upstairs and take your stupid ******* blanket.
Get over it, you ****.
I’m sorry for using the C word.
****** and **** are two words you have shamed me for using.
Keep listening to radiohead, especially the songs on the ******* radio.
I tried to show you a song I wrote and you listened and I appreciated it.
I saw the number 222 just now.
I’m not trying my best but at least I’m ******* trying.
Spiritual experiment, my ***!
I don’t want to listen to you two ****.
I’m ending this now so I can sleep without nightmares.
I’m tired of saying *******.
I love you.
I feel sick typing it over and over again.
But really, get a ******* clue.
Stop living in your universally harmful demeanor.
Go to sleep and wake up a different person.
Not too much different.
Just not such a nasty *****.
Lewis Findley Jan 2011
America, land of the free , home of the brave
however, she is trapped by her dependency on commerce.
She has forgotten the simplicity of her former agrarianism.
Buying and selling is her obsession.
America, the plastic, and online society.
The ways of old remain the ways true.
With progress comes detriment.
This along with the benefit spoken of.
It is not always a bed of roses.
The thorns are there America. And they ***** deeply.
S E L Jan 2014
Brimming with black steeds, green bowls overflow with walls of raining lava in ****** mode
Pinning down paradise beneath your brown thumb, see it wriggle away in mockery of your arty drivel
Only you can thrash on, as magically as a thought which pops in rude bursts
- - - then away it flies

In a silent harbour of study, all the imperfections of my breathing that the mirror glances back at me
I try hard not to swallow failure wholemeal, in the course of a day  - - -  I choke so many times
And angel wings brush by in shy embrace, but I shove its clemency flat on its face

And in vehement denial of anything beautiful - - -  it is not present, save through you
I can submerge so easily, if only to succumb to the silence and the peace
The muted bubbling around my head and throbbing against my ears and pressing on my arms
So comforting

Instead, there’s too regular clicking to the detriment of supple joints
And licking of lips and silent brooding in steeped corners
Any effort to siphon the stillness in the air is severed by intrusions

And the lake beckons me - - - my broken feet follow
Micheal Wolf Mar 2013
Pour myself another drink
I should stop writing and denounce HP
It has become a voice to my nightly brain fever
More serious disease than syphilis
As it eats away at my brain
I suspect in much the same way
In past a vent for the toxic thoughts off divorce
Preoccupied in bitter tears and hatred
Not seeing its healing potential till now
A display of my emotion
Sometimes intense yet so often lost to others
A soap box of parody that hid a broken heart
An inverse playground of my deepest fears
In that it has many swings and roundabouts
Of love, for others here
Some home so long since gone
Dealings with grief and loss of substance
My family
Now seems like a wrecking ball formed verse when re read
Others I cannot see where I was in my head
Lights on yet not at home
The words don't fit now
I thought STOP!
But that would be failed testament to myself.
The gin now speaks not me (metaphoric as drinking Bundaberg Guava as good for the kidneys and to wash down my acidophIlus tablets just to clear up that I'm not a wino!)
A bottle opened to embrace
Odd as I can't remember when I last loaded
More so on a school night
I was told to look in not omit myself by helping others
Give me some me time
I have time
I dwell, cogitate to detriment and find no solution
So Yes may be his answer and his inner solace
It is not yet for me.
Goodnight Mrs Kalabash see you in St Louis
Michael W Noland Apr 2014
It may be in error,
but it's in
the air

in my daring,
of her

and still of no detriment,

to my caring for her glare,
when she caught me there,
eyes closed,
sniffing her


as to her presence,
her elegance,
her observational,

through her fare

Unhindering my endearing,
to her scent,
in exemption,

as she's staring
unto my intent'
and simply

She, the beautiful mess,
in a light sweat,
on a peach
beautiful flesh,

as her alluring

took me
where i haven't been



Only For You Jan 2015
i cant wait until i move on
and i feel sorry for you
because i overlooked all of your god-awful flaws
your temper
your selfishness
your inability to care about anybody but yourself
your black heart.
i could have anyone in the world
but i still chose you
every ******* single time.
and all you will soon be
is a detriment in my past
a scar on my (now dead) heart
a memory that fades but comes back at 3 AM.
maybe now
i will find someone
who loves me
instead of someone
who ***** the life out of me.
you were never satisfied,
even with my once beating heart
in your greedy hands
youre a *******
on a good day
I resent your heart
For ripping me apart
For shredding me to pieces
And bringing out weakness
The thing you do to a discharged cell,
Or to the socks that have too much of a smell,
What is it? Doesn’t it ring a bell?
Because You adhere to that policy so very well…

The thing you do to a flower that’s dead,
So also to a pencil that’s out of lead,
The same unfortunate fate of a broken wooden bed,
A habit of yours that lies imbibed in your head…

The death call for a tire with no air,
The plight of a writer who has lost his flare,
The epitaph of a man about whom nobody cares,
The cold obsoleteness of all your stares…

The gills of a fish outside of water,
The remains of a pig after its meaty slaughter,
The detriment of someone devoid of fun and laughter,
You certainly know about all this better…

A Kingless queen in a match of chess,
A game of chance without a single guess,
A heart beating oh so loveless,
Their method of disposal is at your prowess…

Use and Throw, Use and Throw,
That’s the way you always go,
Use and Throw, Use and Throw,
That’s all the love and affection to me you did show…

For all the compassion, all the regret,
I’m an expendable? Do I know you? Have we ever really MET?
It’s just made me even more sad and upset…

After trying to make your everyday new,
I’m wound up being Use and Throw to you,
I’m use and Throw, insipid, inarticulate,
A used tissue can’t undo its sealed fate….

But if I were any of these above things,
Of which my lonely aching heart sings,

A battery could be recharged duly,
The smell of socks would get the heavy laundry,
A flower would find soil to unwither and bloom,
A pencil refilled with lead to avoid its impending doom…

All of these things I know I can do,
But I also know I can never ever have you,
Because all YOU did, was use, then you Threw…
After my usefulness I meant absolutely nothing to You…

Use and Throw, Use and Throw,
As tears and blood into my discarded tissue does flow…
I was nothing to you, I have nowhere to go…
After all to you I was just.. USE AND THROW….!

— The End —