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sir humbug Jun 2018
the job of the artist
is to be
luminous and dangerous

luminous to others
by being
dangerous to themselves

when the words are ripped from the chest,
atmosphere disbursed by the body’s projectile messes,
starburst fireworks,
luminous and dangerous,
luminating the shared night,
laminating your truths,
in poems disguised


and so the job,
our work,
begins
kirk Aug 2018
The galaxy's in turmoil, it's at an all time low
Luke Skywalker's been demoralised, all for comedic show
No substance for new character's, old heroes full of woe
What happened to the Star Wars, that we used to know

The Empire has been replaced, by the Order of the First
No real impact is achieved, we're not really that immersed
Screen presence is not felt, characterisations at its worst
The legacy of the Jedi, is downgraded and disbursed

Luke's a Jedi like his father, so why would he elope
The Disappointment of this film, is on a massive scope
Star Wars fans are ridiculed, their on a downward *****
Galactic empires did strike back, but after a new hope

Jedi knights a force for good, they wouldn't just give in
Princess Leia flying through space, well wasn't that a sin
The saga of the Skywalker's, pushed aside for Rey and Fin  
Don't bring back legacy character's, to throw them in the bin

Luke's too out of character, it doesn't make no sense
Strong villains do not exist , so there is no recompense
The shallowness of General Hux, a lack of real suspense
Kylo Ren's fake saber duel, this fight was far from tense

Evil rulers are no more what kind of name is Snoke?
He's hardly Emperor Palpatine, he's just a head scarred bloke
Like most of the new character's, well what a ******* joke
The menace of the sith is lost, Since the force awoke

Wooden character's we don't want, I know this may sound mean
Kathleen Kennedy please keep away, from the Star Wars scene
We don't want Holdo, Rose and Poe, clogging up the screen
Admiral Ackbar was killed off, and it wasn't even seen

Rian Johnson's head is round, he looks like BB8
Unfortunately his movies ****, and his stories are not great
Redemption for true Jedi knights, I know it's not too late
A Jedi Master Ivan is,  The Last Jedi's futures fate

This is our most desperate hour, after the cinemas first screening
Ivan your our only hope, the Star Wars fans are screaming
No true fan is amused, we wish that we where dreaming
"a gracious gift from god", is Ivan's first name meaning

Ivan Ortega is the man, he simply is the best
His flare for editing is supreme, he has film making zest
Unruly Star Wars script writers, he'll put them to the test
Movie making is his skill, Disney give it a rest

So come on now check Ivan out, on YouTube or Twitter
His vision of The Last Jedi, may stop you feeling bitter
Optimism flows like the force, because he is no quitter
He'll reunite the Star wars fans, instead of a film splitter

A dark time for the empire, with the Jedi in the mix
Dark side powers hasn't been seen, since Vader in part six
True Jedi Knights have not returned, nothing that really sticks
We need Jedi Master Luke, in Ivan's new Film Fix
Ever since Star Wars The Last Jedi was released in cinemas in December 2017, there has been a lot of backlash and criticisms by fans for the treatment of the character Luke Skywalker and also Rian Johnson's script, however there is a guy called Ivan Ortega who is re-editing and  Fixing the movie, he has a YouTube channel called Film Fix where he shows you the editing process and what he is doing to make the film better, please check his channel out
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2013
t'is a seasonal custom of us,
(you did notice that us
is the centerpiece of c-us-tom?)

that in December, not November
when turkey precedes...

I take my slip of a gal
for a big bowl of pasta
and white truffles from France.

the eyetalian waiter knows
he made the sale when her eyes,
crinkle wrinkle when I ask,
upon which pasta
does the ristorante serve the
white truffles from France?

fettuccine, naturalmente!

in ritual grandiose,
the mushroom grated before our eyes,
shavings and specks scattered and disbursed,
part one of the us in c-us-tom done.

me, I grew up lower middle cheap,
Ronzoni rigatoni and Heinz Ketchup,
not just good enough, but a treat,
and I did not from truffle oil eat
nor speak.

two thirds of the way,
part two, I say, hey!
you know you don't have to eat the whole thing.

with eyes adoring,
she fesses up her tiny tummy was full
about half way through.

but she knows
me, I grew up lower middle cheap,
hate to waste the money,
that comes so hard.

part two is the part of the c-us-tom
she forgets about, but the part that
she really loves me for,
so who cares how much truffles cost,
as far her eyes are concerned,
they crinkle wrinkle at the taste,
of my remembering part two.
See http://hellopoetry.com/poem/hasta-la-pasta/.  If, now you got a craving for pasta...

Hasta La Pasta!


She stands in the doorway
As is her wont,
Bidding adieu to the retreating figure
Who spent the night in
Adoration of the Magi,
Her charms, her hair,
Her serpentine figure most fair,
And scribbling on Hello Poetry
Till his eyes said, no mas!

The retreating figure that be me,
Late for work at 7:20.
Over the shoulder I exclaim,
Hasta Mañana!
Which is silly because
My return is faithfully guaranteed,
Every eve for as long as I live!

She laughs and replies,
Hasta la Pasta!

Stop in my tracks,
About face and in woeful Italian,
Do exclaim, in a deeply serious timbre,
Hasta la Pasta?
Basta!  
(Italian for "that-does-it")

You can have my love, my soul,
But leave to me the labor of poetry.
Loving you with words is
my domain, the speciality of my terrain,
So no more hasta la pasta if you please,
And by the bye, I would love some
Tonight, say around eight,
At a restaurant where the moon is
The only light illuminating our faces.

7:45 AM
onlylovepoetry Jul 2023
(be-tween and be-twixt)

———-


the most precious but precarious item
in our possess, value far above rubies,
this love overflows, but it drowns me
from within, for it has no home for
pleasured sharing and goes wasted, excreted
in tears and exhalations without destination

condition incurable, and the doctor advises,
projects, a life span rangebound from
be-tween
and
be-twixt,

imperative that this love be
disbursed, pressure relieved,
fluid and gases shared,
send it forth,  
Doc behests,
nay,
begs,
you’re a decent human,
tell your tales,
follow your motto,
write those love poems,
always leave them laughing,
and give them love in smiles
all-the-whiles
bringing joyous relief to your clogged arteries,
all this the bare minimum,
for you must moreover grasp and clasp
your body to another, for this
the best transfer transfusion
of all your needed love needs

go be needed, be great, be lessened,
be all three
and never walk alone,
with just hope in your heart,
for the heart, automatically refills,
and this the best, medical opinion…
for all those with too many love poems
requiring expulsion and extrusion
Charlie Chirico Aug 2015
I wrote this in the dark.
Because the last poem stripped
from the book binding and ripped
from my chest was not valued at
the utility company's worth; a two-hundred dollar bill is not easily disbursed when each
poem nets zero cents per word.

A candlestick will
dematerialize faster than
a wax seal on parchment -
one that establishes the epoch of
Civil Rights -
this is a correlated falsehood
of fixed rents in a gentrified neighborhood.

The plus-side of *******
the poor to cater to the wealthy
is that when the new occupants
move in, and the stainless steel
refrigerator is moved in, the empty
box is placed at the curb, and with
the right imagination it can easily
become a home for two.
Marshal Gebbie Mar 2015
Tightening the rope as the fools dance and dither
Squandering the moments as hourglass falls,
Walking the tightrope in a world lost to thither
Assassins maraud as the fat General calls.
Flat fingers hover above plastic buttons
Hover in hesitant moments of pause,
Waiting in limbo instructions from Hades
Exultantly plunging to holocaust cause.
Plunging erotically down to the plastic
Smearing the sweat and blood in a pool,
Lusting your moment of utter destruction
Casting all humankind’s best …to be fool.

Doubt not veracity’s balance in tremor
Out there the Devil is dancing his jig,
Everywhere globally men flee in terror
Uncertainty slides with the squeal of the pig.
Russia inflates as tyrannical tyrant
Isis is spreading its carpet of blood,
Worldwide the military gird for battle
Appeasement disbursed in a torrent of flood
Shades of veracity flood Sarajevo
Memories taunt of that drumbeat to war,
Demagogues strut now the march of the scarlet
God flees reality….and is no more.

M.
17 March 2015
Edward Coles Jan 2015
Distraction! The skirting board is alive.
Last year's grit at the back of a desk;
you have a story to write,
a good friend to deceive, phone calls
to make to indifferent ears.
Dirt accumulates, black algae
in the carpet, and nothing on your mind.

There is an ****** in the sidelines,
it will have to wait – a soap opera,
a bath of salt, a supply of coffee:
catalyst for the morning,
some razor blade, a brand new face.
“A necessity!”she drools, a fragrant potion,
whilst children cry and die in Gaza.

The cigarette falters in its promise,
the fantasist friend, last year's prophet;
you have a life to live
but that can wait another year.
Love sits in your mouth, fat accumulation;
tasteless reprieve from hunger, a motion-
anything to escape stillness, immediacy.

Men in drag lift their skirts to the screen,
the fool is on the hill, the billboard; a dream
of fame litters your focus, your self-hood.
There is a pyramid built for better people,
all these old institutions – indefatigable ladder!
The rings of tea caramelise on the table,
married to the places you have been before.

Elusive enterprise – unfulfilled spark,
you suffocate in oxygen, heat lost to air,
embrace yesterday's comfort, tomorrow's snare.
Take another day inside this indistinguishable prison.
The walls are glass. Eligible, you vote for Hope.
For the drug of the future, a disbursed present
for minimum wage, accepting slave; your eventual grave.
I believe this is my 500th poem :D
Sajdah Baraka Apr 2013
We listened to Maxwell
as the sun fell,
And the days swayed into nights.
Letting the rhythm of the music
Speak to one another
Allowing our minds to take flight.
Connecting without speaking,
Sharing dreams without revealing.
Somehow letting the sound intertwine with our sight.
Those days transitioned into hours.
And those hours disbursed into just nights.
Sleeping so close,
But dreaming so far apart.
Yet we bound our bodies tight.
Meanwhile,
the clock was stealing our time.
Our days together were wearing out.
Our future becoming a blurry sight.

Tonight I listened to Maxwell,
As the moon spilled,
In through my blinds, bringing the music into light.
Never has a song brought relief
to tears so heavy.
As my pretty wings brought me to life.
Nat Lipstadt Apr 14
East River: The Many Calories in Water and Words**

this weighty obsession, counting the energy
consumed and disbursed,
to be lean but not mean,
traverses into its third year

a late start does not forgive
over Forty years of transgressions, that damage,
sustained and in part irreversible,
yet I awake this Sunday morn,
all quiet on the East Side front, observing the East River flows
on the surface, contented and uncontested,
strongly bound for faraway Oceans unknown, and it tickles my
imagination that the rain from the nearby Adirondack and Catskills mountains might soon be quenching thy flora, fauna and your parched throats, confirming and conforming our connection and threading our interwoven tapestries, our unified aqueduct, carrying
with more than poetic words, but poetic water!

this notion sustains in multiple manners, and I deep drink the calm and the power as if it were,
for it is,
a daily vitamin,
calorie free,
God  delivers

Delivering
us with
its contained and contentented potency,
to all
in equal dosage

and now the script finished,
the water imbibed,
this baptized, scripture loving
mind and body
as/is
wholly holy
refreshed,
as are we,
my friend

8:38AM
April 14, 2024
by the East River
There's been nothing to look forward to
The days seem intertwined
My dreams have become diluted
Stuck in the perils of my mind

I'll sleep the day away
Stay wide awake throughout the nights
The darkness hides the pain I'm in
And any remanence of my plight

What's out there lurking in the shadows
With the stars my only light
I stare into the emptiness
Weighing wrong from right

Questioning my role on earth
And which fire to ignite
To set in motion my devotion
And launch my rocket into flight  

I am merely a speck of dust
In the grand scale of our 'verse
Our existence just an afterthought
That mother earths' disbursed

Sitting, waiting, watching days go by
The outcome looming large
An inevitable grave tragedy
As tears fall from loved ones eyes

I chuckle at the thought of legacy
For the future passers by
What a twisted complexity
This fragile thing that we call life.

The hustle and the bustle
The ladders we must climb
To reach the top, the utmost peek
Why even waste the time?

Where is the silver lining?
What mysteries left to find?
What discovery of all discoveries
Can amend this somber paradigm?

Love you say!?
I hasten to agree
How does that explain my disdain
For the person that is me

I, of good heart and soul
And adored by a grand descent
Still have yet to wet my whistle
By way of the clouds above my head

I feel I must confess my passion
To set the worriers at ease
Not for the sake of saying so
Nor for the galleries esteem

But for self and perseverance
The underlining good
So what, pray tell do you say?
It is that of motherhood

The nature of its being
The uniqueness and individuality
Of every single human being

And love, in this pretext
Is a love that I can bare
That of every living thing
In to which nothing can compare

A metamorphosis of thought!
For you and I alike
The yin and yang unearthed
The meaning of life.
I dug a little deep in this poem. With my motivation fleeting, I sought to connect the dots that would explain my purpose on earth. I discovered that balance is the key.
Jayantee Khare May 2018

The happiness, an asset
not to be hidden in closet,
In multiples, it is reimbursed
when generously, it is disbursed!!


A thought
sir humbug Jul 2023
five years ago, June 2018,
I, poet Sir Humbug,
wrote:that the job of the artist was to be
luminous and dangerous

<>

the job of the artist
is to be
luminous and dangerous

luminous to others
by being
dangerous to themselves

when the words are ripped from the chest,
atmosphere disbursed by the body’s projectile messes,
starburst fireworks,
luminous and dangerous,
luminating the shared night,
laminating your truths,
in poems disguised

and so the job,
our work,
begins


<>

five years on,
somethings have changed,
indeed, the dangers of
being luminous,
clarifying and exposing,
the requisite badge of courage,
need-be more desperately earned

the work is more risky,
as the rules of now are none,
and the risk of good taste,
thoughtful caring,
exposing you innards outwardly,
so easy to demean
and sadly
that titillates the iliterati

like a fire-working fireflies flashing,
their in-concert of ligh attracts the
oohs and aahs
but too,
the restless for glory,
opinionated blowhard,
whose critical boundaries of ill will
are
boundless

yet,
write on, right on
to be where courage be the
sticking point!

your verbs must be pointy,
your direction true,
adjectives of modest innovation,
craft harder, then harder again,
for the work must be honest
in a manner most delicate

now is the time of
subtlety -
if one must bang pots to be heard,
that you to are but a noisemaker, a loser,
an addition to those
lost in the din

quiet passion,
thoughtful insight
to inside, to the tender parts,
will rule the day

and the blow smokers
will rue the day,
as their pretenses chafe and flail wayside,
and your words,
be like sightings of new lands
where you take us utterly beholden,
willing explorers to places most wonderfully

luminous and dangerous!
Jessie Schwartz Feb 2018
Kith and Kin…by Jessie 12/05

Thicken fog on a Scottish moor; names of past called out
McClure clan in black watch kilts; ghost that stroll the hills
The night so dark; the moon asleep;
A trek imprinted in every mind
A walk taken year by year, since the start of time
Candles lit to mark each name, and cut the congealed vale
Faces glow; in each eye a tear, as the generations kneel
Thirty years times thirty, now to present day
Kith and kin, circle round the McClure stone to pray
Every eve upon this date, the ritual of names
The list is read from first to end; then passed and read again
From the oldest man to the youngest child, the names will pass each lip
Then the McClure goblet, passed around, from which all descendants sip
Once every name is read aloud: the empty goblet turned
The sheep skin parchment tightly rolled then tucked within its sheath
Placed within the wood carved box; another year to keep
A tear is wiped, the flames extinguished; all receive a hug
Quietly, all’s disbursed; single file they leave
Nary another word is said
The long trek back, is for the clan, to reminisce and grieve
Mohamed Nasir Oct 2018
After the roar of the wind
had grinded down to die

sullen clouds dispensed
disbursed off their load

mist particles descended
sunlight pierced through

what's left of clouds there
poses a beautiful rainbow

emergence of light on drops
of rain crossing the azure sky

mighty nature stoops like a dog
locked in the element's grasped

growls and struggles to no avail
splashing it's body of curly trees

furs soaked forest dripping wet
spraying water into the breeze

nature needs to be scrubbed
once in a while like clothes

feeling good fresh as air
lay wagging it's tail.
preservationman Aug 2016
Everyone’s heart transcended through space
A multitude of Poet’s ideas, so follow me being a trace
We have a race against time
But keep that Poetry momentum in thinking of mine
Words that can be disbursed throughout the universe
A Poetry read not needing any rehearse
Sentences have found their new birth
It all started on good old Earth
Eye on emotion
The microscope being clarity
Our spacecraft into many worlds unknown
Saturn promoting a Poet’s writings
The Moon giving applause
The stars being are the attended read
Now let’s proceed
Like I said prior, we have a race against time
Tomorrow’s poetry word is yesterday gaining inspiration
Poetry words continue, but galactic expressions expand throughout the galaxy
A Poet echoes words throughout, and planets hear and shout
A Poet is more than a person living on Earth
A Poet has supernatural powers
They write for hours
A Poet writes until perfections transforms and is won
A true Poet knows when to the ****** the finale being done
Now let’s head back to our Earth base home
We have taken poetry far and it will continue to roam
Time wasn’t wasted, but a Poet’s time in a galaxy spent.
preservationman Jan 2016
A family driving to Maryland to attend another family members Funeral
The family were driving on the New Jersey Turnpike I-95
It was a three and half hour drive
A tractor trailer truck had just passed the car
The family had left New York City, but weren’t that far
Suddenly without warning, one of the truck’s tires disbursed from the truck trailer’s carriage with a direct hit at the family’s car windshield
You would think an accident becoming the motion
But there was a different notion
The windshield was smashed with cracks, but the driver was able to maneuver the car and gained control
Miraculously it was a sight to behold
The driver was able to pull the car to the side
Yet traffic stopped from a distance, which only God could provide
Later the family continued onto Maryland
Once the family arrived at their destination, the windshield just caved in
But death didn’t become to be an end
It was continue living onto when
This is a true story that was testified in my church
The power of salvation being an enriched birth
It’s God’s mercy saying keep living and welcome to Earth.
Warmth passed when the flame was taken from light
The chills of quite hours
the beat that  is communication and song, in sound,  my heart..
it's the only voice  
around
that ever  speaks to me.
My breaths are  the only additional voices that I hear
That are  steady and bright

Blood flows through my veins
The draft of the fall weather flows from the cracks in the windows

These things are guaranteed and something you can depend on..
When everyone else seem to  be  way too important
over you
Pain remains in the heart....deep stains.

Another year  and another lost soul
The circle of People's Temporary Presence
Like the clock
It measures time until the end of the day.
A never ending repetitive way
like the spinning of the Earth
where one stays weak and quiet
Years take their toll.
Another fork in the road
leading to another sunny way.

You have no where to go.
If you had a way to get to them or go somewhere
Where would one go?
When the curtain of the act
when you arrive for your part in the play
is already at the end of the show.

Walking down highways
of travels life's souls...
Most you see are able to be together.
Like billboards they advertise their wonderful gift
of love
as you are the loner being advertised a product
One you never seem to have the resources to obtain.. such ..
in no matter of once thought of successful processes
taken
to acquire the needed assets.

The products fail to be affordable in stock or available on the selected love's store  shelves
in what means that are negotiable
for purchase from  the store's stock
or  negotiable for sale's ways.

Trust of the system
which love or friendship is disbursed
is questioned.
Limited quantities or lack of credit ..to obtain such
Beats your knee caps like the baseball bat of misery
Until you need a crutch.

You brave the storms and try again.
It is a demonstrator vehicle
Which you must return to love's dealership
after the timer on the sale's representative's clocks
Marks the end of short lived beloved travels
Walking, once again, nobody gives you the needed credit
because of the fights to survive or the constant
fights to prove you are the brighter one
From which you've travelled such roads and have been.
The way to earn the scores...
The fail to measure such....
As a one sided dice
Such never offers a game
to  ever have been a possible   win ...seen

The successful love economy brokers tell you how it is done
how you must do the steps to earn what you need
You sign the contract
However, the small type, at the bottom of the now signed pages
in the limitation section
and exceptions portion of such
Prevent you from obtaining the credit to earn that special someone.
Drifton A Way Dec 2017
Shall we constantly strive to be able to thrive?
Or just slap high five and be happy we’re alive

Walking down the road shivering in a sweater
Sleeping homeless man, life couldn’t be better

The fact is, there will always be more to do
How much difference can be made by you?

The answer is, an absolute **** ton and a half
Whether it be a penny, piece of food or a laugh

You can randomly smile at a stranger
and they’ll just think you’re deranged
You can try and be a game changer
Success necessitates being changed

You can cough in someone’s coffee
Maybe kick their dog while they’re down
Say you’re sorry for being so coughy
But your smile’s fake and you’re a clown

But you know things could always be worsed
See, how fast that guilt Statement disbursed
Feeling sorry for yourself, is like being cursed
So be ready to perform,none of us rehearsed
We’re talking about practice? Not a game, not.. a game?
A Henslo Mar 2018
Is it a plane, is it a bird?
Is it a hairbrain, is it a nerd?
Fire and fury disbursed
Fighting for America first
Never ever second or third

Who else gave the bluebird its glitter?
Make us ponder his every word
And that collusion never occurred
It's our great community splitter
None other than Captain Twitter
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2021
the body is atrophying,
rising from the bed is an
exercise in handholds, comedy physical
wall-grabbing, flail to fall, laughing at myself, still

my super quiet whispers in the bed
of imminent death go unheard,
as somewhat desired, but not entirely,
3/4 tween unsure and surely and surly.

the blood don’t circulate fast enough,
streams slow, sad songs Pandora accumulates,
and Spotify artificial intelligence finds more,
certifying a usual unusual, feel dust mites breaking off of me

<>

mind running in rivulets, fear floes,
courage-drowned, easy stuff
impossible, hard, beyond pale, summer melt,
drowning in self-disgust, hapless hopeless harmonic wastage

every deadline passes, dying,
easygoing no screaming, the
minimal, hard, past the behind, the pale,
the poetry is untraceable, untranslatable and never-good-enough


the easy out is steps away,
illusions are illusory, delusions offer no comfort,
stories you tell for amusement, leaving whimsical
dreams are practice runs, for the longer run, will shortly come do-due

the poem words die on the vine,
scorned silence, best is past,
appropriate ignominy is red-****** iced,
so it goes, no minyan for the funeral, no ten friends


the query repeatedly reappears,
how did I mess up so bad, some part
lazy, part afraid, humans, so much effort,
the voices-in-head saying, we’re plenty good enough

shelter can become a prison, an island,
fortress or prison, a salvation pretense,
osprey overhead, preying, feeding next gen,
hear-’em discussing options when “sleeping,”
his affairs in order?, which smile provokes the provocateur


my affairs long dustbin guests,
sand and atmospheric disbursed,
your next poem probably, granules contained,
for this is how all life is transferred, I’m in a tiny minute, in you…
July 2021
Just Ty Mar 2018
I have carried the world on my back for those who couldn’t even bother telling their hearts my name.
I have walked on the broken glass of their exes abuse just to try to reach the root of their pain
I have drowned in their silence while trying to swim across the ocean of their mind
I have looked directly into sun that is their smile with no fear of going blind
I have carved my heart out of my chest to disbursed for safe passage to their life
Only to walk away with nothing but this internal strife

Just Ty-
Maahv Z Aug 2017
I was a soul
i will stay a soul
in your love
i remain a crazy existence
hearts do not know what to do with their core
they are dissolved
day by day
not knowing of their lost self
i am determined
my mind did not took me along
when all the love was being disbursed
i was left alone
to feel alone the lonesome
in a world
which i know is not mine

-2014
Hurried under pressure
They scrambled like little ants
Running every which way
As if in a trance
All throughout the chaos
One stood unabashed
A meager man not well to do
Strapped by lack of cash
He searched with a gut feeling
Contemplating every move
He took not one thing for granted
From the clues inside the room
He persisted; he sniffed it out
Just like a hound dog
Nose to ground
He found it
All sorted out
No more mystery
Never a doubt
He found the treasure
The jewels and gold
The life’s work
Of forgotten souls
He took the treasure
And disbursed the wealth
It’s no coincidence
He valued health
More than his prosperity
That was a burden all the same
As the others continue to run
Forgetting their own names
They run from their own problems
Yet, they somehow find a way
To use the tool that seldom do
And shed their past mistakes
They welcome the chance to prosper
Erase away their pain
He’s encouraged by their passion
And their willingness to change
flush... the toilet with good frisson!

(alternately titled long windedly
using lower case letters:
no matter tidily bowled over based
upon real events, perhaps subject devoid
of literary merit and/or taste
no embarrassment, cuz
I got nothing to cover
despite precious time going to waste).

Analogous to constipation,
constitutes full term pregnancy,
perhaps umpteenth or first,
which former offal ****** function I durst
mention, said subject doth stink,
yet... exercising bowel
applicative, constrictive, effective,

exhaustive, gesticulative, instinctive,
massive, oppressive, qualitative,
quantitative, significative and unitive
(beg to differ if ye think me perverse)
both scenarios prone to stress and strain,
difficulties can arise evacuating bowels
gluteus maximus muscles severely pursed,

radiating sharp stabbing sensations
behind junk in trunk quarters felt
until bulging temple veins ready to burst,
where piles of hemorrhoids
foul ****** tortured and accursed
necessitating Judas Priest well versed
to issue last rites while

appropriate official dull livers worst
news to missus, whose
inconsolable sympathies nursed,
nevertheless bit torrent of sorrow
honor alone time with grateful dead
subsequently finds medical personnel disbursed,

privately newly minted widow mourning
tears for fears immersed
bemoaning sudden permanent absence
gone fore e'er foremost farter figure first
instance obliterated, when posterior
uproariously (actually not funny)
inflicted hemorrhage emergency,

die hard ludicrous poet (me) experienced
all expense chauffeured ride in hearst
aforementioned purportedly roughly comparable,
courtesy hearsay, when
hypothetical woman with child,
(here, I metaphorically paraphrase)
as maven ready to take aim giving birth

(nine months after satiating
hankering call of the wild
buzzfeeding miracle worker whipped thirst,
and temporarily appeased
inherent maternal yearning
to beget offspring, then... off to races
sprinting at greased lightning speed

amazingly enough slightly protruded womb,
(among other fledgling
and/or practiced moms avid runners
all touted as winners relay race crossing
finish line simultaneously
comprising distance measuring more'n verst.
Kate Feb 2018
A sky of velvet black beholding sparkling jewels gleaming within it's grasp. 
These orbs so beautifully aglow, emit their brilliance throughout the rich, vast sky. 
These mesmerizing splendors are paired with an ever so light, crisp wind that gently grazes the hair on the nape of my neck as it presents a renewed air... 
Adoration is eminsely felt amidst this evening as I relish the astonishing ellegance being disbursed from the grand showcase here tonight. 
Just beyond the wood line, I hear the faint rippling of water - a calm, subtle flow. Mingling with it are the choruses of crickets, the songs of frogs, the slight rustling of tree tops and the owl in the distance who also announces it's presence. 
The delicate wind carries an aromatic country aroma...that of wild roses, dewy earth and trees of pine. The mixture envelopes my presence from the inside out as I fill my lungs with a clean breath. 
There is such a peaceful, serene tranquillity that graces the atmosphere on this eve as there is not a sound to be heard but those of mother nature. 
Closing my eyes, I drift into the most serene feeling that I've ever experienced in my existence. Thank you, mother nature, for sharing this extraordinary evening with me.....
The Occupiers

Outside, the only road in my village
a horde of carts pulled by skinny horses full of furniture and children
demanded access.
Our great grandfathers built this house we have
the right of return.
I contemplated giving them the shed but knowing they would
demand a larger part of the house, thought it best to resist
my thought of being kind.
The people outside were of Roman ancestry and had lived
in this area for hundreds of years and had been harassed wherever they went
It was time to take back the village and the right to defend ourselves
I rang the police, fifty officers came and disbursed the crowd
and a guard post erected at the entrance.
I normally have a liberal heart, but in this case, I had no empathy
by those who tried to make me homeless

— The End —