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Wade Redfearn Feb 2010
she spoke to me, on the daffodil sweetness of the pasture
while the grasses, waving, muttered their moist message on the wind
of rot, and renewal,
(but hold your lips, be still for an explosion of intimacy, for a moment)

'Are those a constellation?' she asks.
"The Pleiades."
'You don't know that.'

she doesn't care where the car begins, exhaling gently, to stop
and she commends its forward motion
(the keening love of a sodium light
and forgetfulness in every bone of my body)
I love the thrum of it, below my feet,
murmuring vibrato in the pedals.

They have a Huck Finn cave display at Disneyworld. In Adventure Island, or somewhere, or one of us, deep in the vastness of spines and fingers.

Its fiberglass walls are a portrait of America -
the glean of dew a reflection of that spirit
that drove us over the borders, the rivers, to Oregon,
so we could love under a naked moon,
and renounce our lives of glee, and security
for the bright unsettled plantation of the starless fields.

'You don't know a constellation from a cloud of dandelion seeds.'

But oh, my relentless pioneer love, I do - I know a constellation
is made of stars, and rough determination, and I know that,
love is a today thing, and we are yesterday people
that pain is tomorrow, and we will always be children of the dusk preceding
destined, dear, to find our love receding

Are you prepared, or will the wilderness this time swallow you?
Just ask me.
Lightbulb Martin Sep 2014
I have a friend who told me she finds
poetry boring now.

I told her-
It has always been boring.
It will always be boring.

Even DisneyWorld is boring on the 3rd day in a row.

She now finds poetry-

Mostly mundane.
Radically routine.
Definitely drab.
Really repetitive.
Totally tedious.

Much like Mark.

I told her-
It has always been boring.
It will always be boring.

Boring.
Poetry boring deep inside your head
Boring deep inside your conscious
Boring deep into your soul

Without leaving a hole
Leaving you whole.

Boring.
Breeze-Mist Apr 2017
"That was like tripping
On acid." "I loved that when
I was ten" I said

"Well, that would explain
Quite a lot about you, then"
My friend mumbled back

Who knew that you could
On two hours of sleep, and
Walk miles all day

Sitting out of dance
We realized that we were
"***** emo" teens

EPCOT, in the end
Is half Thinking Day
Made professional

Also, my dreams are
Apparently far too weird
To have been healthy
I loved Figment as a kid. :)
Also, it's a small world is still equal parts amicable and unsettling.
jeffrey robin Jul 2010
the lost battalions of the soul-------
they fight on where-ever they are ,(they say)

the lost lovers lie still as death on flamining hillsides
wondering where the angels as promised just hap to be
but you, my friend, are gone from here
and who knows when you will dare show your face?

chicken-lickin cowards, all.

grubbing and grunting with the ******* smile still glued  to the masks that are formed from being graceless and stupid in amerikka

oh well

its only few small steps to macdonalds or
disneyworld

a few small steps to the liquor store

a few small steps and the pusher man

will be there.com

and coming forward with lady gaga videos and tales
of the heros like michael jackson.com

and the baseball scores

and i will soon be dead and hopefully quiet but don't bet on it

for the lost battalions fight on and on wherever they are

even if they themselves don't know

where that is
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2017
*******... two of my friends almost died in terrorist attacks!

.                     i see a great disasater,
not through lack of innovation,
but through the perpatuation
                                                    ­ of squander
for what was deemed a gift,
but has become
        a christmas present
in the hands of a child
  that islam has become...
if muhammad was alive
                                       today?
he'd decapitate the entire
        saudi family...
    and bring about
             the compensating
reign of *ali
...
these ******* sand *******
  have had their disneyworld
of yachts and european *******
for far too long...
   duma! duma! narodowa duma!
pride! pride! national pride!
    what, a return to a horse
                  and carriage?
i don't see a phase of great
innovation,
   even though i'm sure it exists,
and it waiting for monetißation...
     of that i'm sure of,
   within the framework
            of keeping "secrets"...
what secrets?
    there are no secrets,
there are only
skewed lies,
           and unwritten truths...
   that's it...
it's a pretty simple geometric
   allowance that gave us a square
to fathom...
         you know that
        when muhammad
was talking about the dajjal
he meant it in terms
     of an arabic confinement,
right?
   when he said the hadith
        concerning
the east, he didn't imply
    ulaanbaatar - or genghis khan...
what's the hub of saudi arabia east
   of mecca? isn't it riyadh?
        a bunch of ******* fatsos...
        diabetic sheiks...
     amputees in waiting...
bonkers logic...
    no wonder the syrians
         imploded and
turned against themselves...
            these? these are the people
at the crux of a religion?
            so a syrian baker turned
  on a syrian car mechanic...
                      any intervention by foreign
power?
            is a heresy of conducting war...
no foreign power can be allowed
   influence into civil former cordiality
   turned into opposite warring factions!
none!
         the path toward hell
                     is plagued with
good intentions
...
          and the west has made
                    a step onto that path...

if the western world populace are
dubbed oil junkies,
    what does that make the arabs?
sugar junkies?
              i guess so, seems the only
rational explanation as to why
  weilding a scimitar
     they'd sooner cut themselves
than chop an "infidels" head off...
******* fastos:
lazy *** sand-******* / camel-jockyes;
oh sure, come to poland
or to russia...
    we'll show you what we did with
the turks, in the 12th september 1683
battle for vienna;
    bull-*******-whipped-woodolf
                        ­               goin' bananas
  in his crematorium grave,
   twistin' 'n' turning,
          while mao tse-tung fiddled with
some egg-friend noodles,
   and stalin fiddle his moustache into
a hipster look: y'ah... well oiled
   giving it the full curls.
Antino Art Sep 2017
We in South Florida pride ourselves on getting hit by hurricanes. We take photos of how bad it is and post it on Instagram with appropriate doomsday event hashtagging.

Riding these things out is like riding a bike.

If you can shop for Black Friday and Christmas every year, you can shop for this. Take pride in your water divination skills and line-standing endurance feats. We are the state of Disneyworld ride lines that wrap around corners in swamp heat, and lines of red light bumper lights on i-95 Monday through Friday: this is another day in the office!

Putting up shutters is like putting up Christmas decorations: we get creative

Like today, we wedged pink and blue floatation noodles against the frames of the windows in arcs resembling a post-storm rainbow. My 2 year old daughter said it was beautiful.

One day of this is someone else's seven months of winter. Remember, people evacuate to here annually! So do not feel bad for fleeing north to them.

The news keeps saying stay calm as they embellish how dangerous this storm ride is going to be like some death stunt on a David Blaine TV special. He went underwater in "Drowned Alive": he didn't drown. He got buried underground: he rose from it. Per the broadcasted hype, the payoff is we won't die!

Here's some good news: you can leave what's out of reach and in the sky to the heavens, and what's in your mind to the steps you took on the ground below: all doors closed, stuff unplugged, things that resemble missiles stashed in closets, flashlights ready like lightsabers to battle this named foe from above. It will hit the worried and unworried just the same, revealing the gas station line cutters from the people who help you with shutters; the faith from the fear of those who choose to pray; the human heart and its varying sizes as it beats faster with the darkening of the sky.

At least we aren't trees: they cannot hide from this revealing event. See how they all remain serene up until the second the wind arrives, leaves rattled only then, roots of varying depths being that which holds them together

either they bend with grace or they break.
jeffrey robin Jan 2015
( )
/)))\
/\
       •
                  •
                                 •

We are being TERRORIZED
( you know )

ARE YE SCARED
YET ?

/:/

I think yer left arm is scared a what
Yer right arm is gonna do to it
With that razor blade in its hand !

//

It don't need no TERRORIST

It got YOU !




How come THAT ain't on Fox News ?


//

HIGH SCHOOL KIDS TERRORIZING EACH OTHER

" BREAKING "
EACH OTHER

STUDENTS GETTING CUT UP
WITH RAZOR BLADES

NATION GUARD TROOPS
CALLED TO THE SCENE !

••

( why not ? )

//

Such how easy it is
To tell the REAL news from the FAKE

//
//

Little child in pigtails

Little innocent girl !

In the sacred playground

Visions of holy teachers

Within the security
Within the serenity

Of the god light shining

all around !

//

( I know --

It's just some myth from DisneyWorld )

//

You can always go and make

$ 20 mil a year playin baseball

Right ?

And there's always dudes like that

JEFFREY EPSTEIN

runnin around !



It's too
Lifeless
Loveless
Stale



Come on out and be free

Me ?

I just don't listen anymore

Cause liars aren't to be believed
Lynne Podrat Dec 2019
Full Circle

My mother died this morning,
Grandmother, great-grandmother
We knew, possible, but still unexpected.
Fortunately, my children were with me,
sharing, serenity in the mountains of Vail
Grandchildren make things better,
Hugging, laughing, being silly to bring smiles.
Then we head home, in darkness, flying Red Eye
Leaving the mountains for Florida
To land, splash of sunrise, a new day.
Each two adults seated with one child.
Even through sadness, I smile, looking
At three generations, grandparents, parents, grandchildren,
Remembering my daughter, six, son, fifteen.
Flying from Philadelphia to Florida on vacation,
With grandparents, her first flight to Disneyworld.
Two adults seated with one child,
Three generations, grandparents, parents, grandchildren.
don’t forget how to dream.
how you felt when you were seven
ice-skating at the rink;
rollerblading through the ocean breeze
on the boardwalk;
screaming in a roller-coaster
skying high over disneyworld;
chasing joy and laughter round every corner
like heaven was right here on earth.

lock that feeling in your memory bank
like savings in a vault
at ally.
let it brew like fine wine
for the times life drags you
down
to your knees
and you need a drink.

think of that feeling
when you were seven
ice-skating at the rink
way back when...

and dream again.

ayo!
~ P
Ken Pepiton Jul 2022
My generational paradigm, the way I see me
generating out put from input,

slow thinking things that did happen,
as sure as one may seem,

when one puts one's foot down, and marks t
true we be,
after our writer is dead, alive,
your reading does the trick wait and see,

when I am as lost to common history
as Marvel Parsons and old Ed Childs,

who married into the Dailey family curse,
the result of a runaway father, or
incarcerated father, or crazy drunk *** father

f'given me
this bottle. Johnny Walker Red, ai, I have no clue
a horseman from the look of the company image,

like one of those liveried boys, in antebellum,
economic stability of class distribution of leisure time,
taking the rein, to hold Ma'ams horses, and stand

stiff as a little statue, to this day, see,
we were armed with far fewer words for wonders
observed but never served with hows and whys,

temperature and pressure, hot and cold,
fresh and old, as brand new carbon 14,

fresh from the end of molecule of N,
ping, tic, tack a timer on this atom,
watch it be taken down, in rain,
as carbon, with a message,
live and learn, the end
of all things is being
at once,

any given instance, being you, is so rare, run the numbers,
what good is earth? Lucky for you

I happen to know, from the first fusings refusing to nothing,
as if reaching toward, to warden, make good, the hope,
reaching around with all the e in our shared outs-per-ience
science, with meat, con carne, conscience, hey, chuy,

do you have no friend named Chuy, Oy vey, way way back,

we had a story rise from the wanderers, boys who took
the opportunity to **** for a living, very seriously,

we all wannabe Audie Murphy, led by John Wayne,
and that guy from Naked City,
certain ones, fed flour tortillas fried in golden Crisco,

experimental spit it all out, what is the secret meaning
in of for by all adaptable pre-positioning or al, posited,

Syble, possible, an allusionary stretch limn goes
to limnos and we slip in the slime of phonemic missed

concepts, with taken grip, grab and hold, catch, that
concept
imagined as Disneyworld, to a child who never went,
but watched the concept occur on TV.

And now, we may revisit the Disney-ifity, and compare,
who imagined this future,
who imagined that.

So who is happy, having won, who is scared of death?
limn is a subtle word.
Maddy Apr 2022
East bound
West bound
Brooklyn College was graduate school twice
All the promises you made and kept started there
Driving to JFK dreaming about the places we would travel to
Walking the World’s Fair grounds and gazing at the Unisphere
A memory from childhood
Before Disneyworld came to be

Hopefully more goals and promises to share and keep
More stamps on our passports
The Belt Parkway, the beginning of us
It is not the end
We just have to keep traveling on other highways
Somehow when we are on the Belt Parkway Nassau or Suffolk bound
It reminds me of how we began
September 14, 1979 introduced me to the best person that came into my life
1980 seems like yesterday but is part of us today and tomorrow

C@rainbowchaser2022
Dear Jesus
you should have been a footballer
and played for Sampdoria
the spectators would have adored you
and you could have been a big star.

ps. If heaven is like Disneyworld,
book me a spot.
Dweller and Mouse
Together in the same house
The Mouse wanted to make a deal
The Dweller’s response, Are you for real?
The Mouse was going to move in
Not this house
The Dweller shouted abruptly, “Get Out”
Get to Mouse stepping
Go back to Disneyworld
This house will be no Magic Kingdom
Now get out
The Mouse gave the Dweller an Ultimatum
The Mouse loss
The Dweller used force
Mouse track set
Had the effect
The Mouse died
Just like that
No Deal
Qualyxian Quest Dec 2022
Just so we are all clear
Ron Desantis believes that DisneyWorld
Is among the greatest threats
Faced by the American people

             Disney World
Qualyxian Quest Jun 2023
When I don't take the medicine
Sometimes I have intense dreams
As just now, for instance
Israel. Shema Israel.

Divergent
Post-apocalyptic Chicago
Knoa and Jessica
Mr. Witherell

Desantis is Disgusting
**** flags at DisneyWorld
Which was Grad Night for me
1987

Allison
Judi
Mike and Steve
Kevin

                      La Florida ...
When Mouse enters, make them get out
Put two Ultrasonic devices in every room
It will spell mouse doom
As the mouse roams on tour
Show them your house is no allure
Let your tracks lure them to their end
Be smart as the mouse
Show them you live here and it is your house
Watch their movement
I always say too them, go back to Disneyworld
I control and swirl
Pests are not welcomed here
Show the mouse fear
Let darkness be your advantage
Use strong and wide black sticky traps
In the track they shall go
No more pest, just the house freedom flow
I wanted to put you in the know
The Mice will be packing their bags and permanently out
Mouse free and watch them flee
This procedure mentioned is between you and me
Wait and see
House control
Mice and mouse behold
Get out and watch as the pest control gets bold
The house is always a family threshold.

— The End —