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Kagami Aug 2014
Previous commemorative
                          memorials of positivity
     drown in radioactive slime.
    
   Disperse chi like flooding water
                              Contaminated, laminated with oily tears.

*"How is pain controlled?
jenna Jul 2018
dear you,

i’m in love.
yes. you were
waiting, i
bet, for this.
this time, though,
it is not
what you would
think. it’s me
this time, not
you, although
it’s still you,
but not in
the way it
used to be
you. it’s my
fault this time,
my doing,
my painful,
pitiful,
suffering.
it’s you in
the sense that
i cannot
control you.

this time,

it’s your mind and your thoughts
the things that slip off of your tongue
the words you put, pencil to paper
the ideas that come out in your songs

it’s your eyes and your sight
the careful observation of beauty
the need to bask in warm, pure light
the stare you give me, rarely now

it’s your movements and your touch
the hugs where you grip my shoulders
the times where i’m drunk and playing with your fingers
the warmth you give off and your gorgeous smile

none of them
are mine to
have, to take
to keep, to
love, to break

i miss you
and to go
and detach
to break what
we have, that’s
the hard way
out. but i
am trying
to help me.

i feel the
same way i
did when you
said i was
wrong about
this. about
how i feel.

i try to
not panic
and quiet
sob in the
bathroom at
3:27 am
every night.

i’m hoping
disposing
myself of
you, means that
the dreams will
go away
too. but if
they stay,
i’ll give you
a quick call.
probably
a text, to
be honest.

i love you,
unhealthily,
with every
part of me.

keep in touch,
please.

love,

me.
it is better to regret doing something instead of not doing it at all.
The Terry Tree Aug 2014
Hidden grace, no light for revelation
To pass such limits is to become ******
Like the dragon or a serpent monster
Your myth has become fixed in minds on earth

All the forces that disturb you demand
Darkness is your indetermination
Blazed in trails of blackness you command
Symbols of evil and demonic birth

In the Underworld you plot and saunter
Grotesque in cloven hooves or horns you stand
You are our fear the tormentor at hand
Stealing our only hope for self-love worth

You disturb and weaken every nation
Eliminating those who will prosper

You have a tool box filled with shapes galore
A choir of demons at your disposal
You wear the face of animals to prove
That you exist but will not show your face

Temptation is your favorite proposal
As you create ****** carnage and gore
Attacking innocents world wide; global
It is your goal to blacken and erase

It is unclear when you will make a move
Your starless magic uncontrollable
Your angry heart is inconsolable
In every mouth you leave an awful taste

The only thing that satisfies is war
Beelzebub to slaughter good it behooves

Clipping spiritual wings of all beings
Entering into those at their weakest
Supposition of your essence is sly
What you are has no particular shape

You've made a pact to stand against Jesus
Disintegrating all Saints from seeing
Wicked ways are in all ways the cheapest
To ingress means whole-purity escapes

Human life is interwoven freely
Free will allows the mind to go deepest
When we take the path we take the steepest
Secreted in your invisible cape

To return is without guaranteeing
With mastery disposing us to die

I believe that beneath us is a rug
One that you delight in pulling away
Much like this rug our minds become feeble
And we begin to believe everything

Our moral and metaphysical ways
Begin to end as our shoulders will shrug
Entire atmospheres are grey for days
To open up our mouths yet not to sing

What we decide can often be lethal
A personal domain of hellbent maze
As we lose sight our lives become a daze
Of which no hope or light can often bring

Our deception is your favorite drug
When we feel at our worst you are gleeful

The seeker of hidden knowledge must keep
A balance like the Hermit's inner peace
Otherwise the journey will fall victim
To flowing currents of hateful power

Like a wolf in sheep's clothing you have fleece
To hold on to our light is to succeed
Pull back the reigns of life commanding "Cease!"
Do not fall from your enlightened tower

Satan is a trickster sent to sicken
Our ability to wager disease
To believe that he exists is to please
Negative energy to devour

The best part of me is only asleep
Isolation has become addicted

Prince of Darkness, Antichrist, King of Hell
Appearing to the blind slave of instinct
You have no sovereignty be gone from me
I confront thee I am ready and still

Lucifer, Angel of Darkness extinct
You do not know my spirit guides that well
Distraction is what makes you so succinct
I have no desire to go downhill

Your downward spiral was a slide to see
How you manipulate what others think
Mephistopheles, Archfiend of distinct
Measures to tear others down you conceal

I dispel, I kiss forever farewell
Rest quietly in harmony dreaming

A lullaby for you I have written
On my heart as ancient as Egyptians
The Vedas and Sumerian temples
Will embrace you even in rejection

Your actions are despised in omission
I believe your bitter self was bitten
Release your broken spirit condition
Open your eyes and arms to affection

We can all be as one in one vessel
There are good folks and there is suspicion
Prayer of my song, a hymn of permission
Release thy tortured ways to connection

Evil drifts up, Listen, Listen, Listen
As our bodies fill with light and tremble

Shhhhh.......

© tHE tERRY tREE
Poetic Form | Turco Bref Double
howard brace Aug 2013
"A leisurely breakfast" their mother would admonish, "aids digestion and builds strong bones..." so what with the imposed inactivity every morning, boredom broken only by Sockeye the family Spaniel, whose want of table manners coincided very conveniently with mealtimes... as he paced restlessly under the table, slobbering indiscriminately in his daily scramble to devour every dangling morsel before supply and demand shut up shop for the night and went home, far tastier... he gobbled down the latest offering of egg white, than the remnants of his own dietary allowance, they just had to get the timing right that was all, or risk loosing a finger, or gaining one depending upon who was doing the dangling, or who was doing the gobbling... he gave an indignant sneeze, not so much a hint but more of a... 'what's with the pepper malarky...'  So that it was only with a good deal of snappy hand coordination, lengthy digestion and sturdy bone building that Rocky was finally able to extricate himself from the table and make the most of what little time remained until lunchtime, meagre time indeed for the Rocky's of this world to hang around with their dogs, leaving their little sisters to help mums do, whatever it was that girls usually did when they should have scooted out of the kitchen faster, when it would have been all so much simpler just to grab a handful of biscuits instead...  Meanwhile, laying in wait in the room above, flat out upon the bedroom counterpane, having recently had their insides stuffed to bursting with a full English breakfast's worth of beach and holiday apparal... and that was just the luggage.    

     The contents of which, up until a week last washday had been snoozing fitfully behind 'Do Not Disturb' signs, cautiously peeping out from the gloomier, more remote recesses of the bedroom dresser, or carefully concealed in cupboards and closets... and being in every other respect by no means readily accessible to public scrutiny of any kind... had been left to their own devices some twelve months earlier with a clear understanding to skip bath nights from that moment on and henceforth immerse themselves in the heady, camphorated pungency of mothball, vowing once and for all never to darken portmanteau lids again... but now, after many hours of arduous laundering and de-fumigation... were now being squeezed and unceremoniously shoe-horned into what had recently become nothing short of an overcrowded sanctuary for the dispossessed.  
              
     Meanwhile, all the luggage asked from life other than be detained under section four of the Mental Health Act, 1983 and be found cosy padded accommodation elsewhere... was to have their interiors vacated, their tranquility reinstated... and with a questionable wink from a dodgy Customs official, have their travel permits invalidated... irrevocably, for despite throwing a double six for a spot of well earned convalescence back on top of the wardrobe some twelve months ago, basking in the shade of a warm Summer Sun, striking up the occasional conversation with the floral decor, third bloom from the left currently answering to the name of Petunia, the still over extended luggage, seemingly with little hope of R & R this side of the letter Q, faced the perennial disquiet of vacational therapy, of being knelt on, sat and bounced upon and be specifically manhandled in ways that matching sets of co-ordinated luggage should not...
                                        
     Tina could be heard quite distinctly in the next street concerning her husbands lack of competence, whilst Red it appeared had become just as outspoken as his wife in that particular direction... as the local self appointed busybody, who lived well within earshot of the address in question would bear witness to as she put feverish pen to paper, writing to what had become a regular... and some would say hot bed of intrigue in the local tabloid concerning how vociferous the once tranquil neighbourhood had become of recent and how certain undesirable elements within the community were to be heard carrying on alarmingly at all hours, day and night... and as she diligently weighed her civic duty against simple household economics as to whether to send this latest block busting eye opener by first or second class post, their parents could now be heard broadcasting, if anything to a wider listening audience than the previous newsflash, some of the more sensational episodes of the previous twenty-four hours as to who was pulling whose suitcase zipper now... although in which direction it should be pulled, they both agreed, wasn't for public disclosure at that time... vowing to draw blood well before the day was out, as three lacerated fingers would later testify and that it was only because of the children that they were going at all... but God willing, they would be setting off very shortly with rosy smiles on their faces for the sole benefit of the neighbours, even if it killed them. 

     Spurred to fever pitch  by this latest 'stop-the-press' newsflash, the same public spirited busybody now threw herself wholeheartedly into further award winning journalism and for the second time that morning took to pen and paper, only now directed to the gossip column in the local Parish Gazette, followed by grievous lamentations of impending bloodshed to the incumbent Chief Constable as to how they'd all be murdered in their beds ere long before nightfall.

     By devouring his water bowl, thereby dispensing with the need for it to be washed and by its abrupt and mysterious absence, disposing of all further incriminating evidence as to where the abundant supply of liquid, now surging copiously across the kitchen floor had sprung from... the flash-flood was hastily making its own getaway beneath the kitchen units, leaving Sockeye to his own devices to carry the can on his own, ankle deep in what up until earlier that morning had been sloshing around quite contentedly in Eccup reservoir.

      Having inadvertently released the handbrake in a boyish gesture of bravado, thereby placing himself in sole charge of a runaway vehicle, Sockeye it appeared was not the only member of the Salmon family to have dropped himself right in it that day as Rocky, having unwittingly placed the following ten years pocket money well out of reach and back into the pockets of his parents dwindling resources, had to a far greater extent nominated himself for the same Earth moving experience as the one his mum would shortly be giving Sockeye...

      Having just been granted licence to do whatsoever it pleased, the vehicle began its leisurely rearwards perambulation down the long garden driveway and by way of small thanks for its new found independence took Rocky along for the ride where due to a certain lack of stature on Rocky's part, at no point had he ever been in the slightest position to influence the Holiday threatening train of events which now engulfed him, never thinking to reapply the handbrake... that would be too easy, he perched on the edge of the seat clutching the steering wheel and stretched out his sturdy little legs in an heroic, but futile attempt to reach the pedals as the family car, which up until any second now had been his fathers pride and joy, pitched backwards at what seemed to Rocky, breakneck speed and directly into a very severe and unforgiving brick wall.

     Almost missing this latest round of entertainment above that of her parents most recent exchange, River accompanied by Sockeye scampered outdoors and slap into what could only be described as the most fun she'd had all year as an unsuspecting "what was that noise" muscled its way through the open bedroom window and fell flat on its face in the garden below and which, if that morning to date was anything to go by, then the neighbourhood would soon be tuning in to the latest Salmon family's 'hot-off-the-press' breaking news bulletin.

     Opening her mouth River hesitated as she fine-tuned the speech centres of her young and delicate synapse into full vocal alignment, then adjusting shutter speed from f8 to automatic she closed her mouth... then opened it once again and informed her brother that if the tip of dads size 9 was an Olympic gold, then Rocky would be sure to take first in the 110 metre hurdling event with 'team GB...' and could she have his autograph... with those words of solid encouragement rattling around his ears like the last biscuit in an otherwise empty tin box, River went skipping back into the house to announce the latest newsflash of her parents next financial happening... which she felt certain would prompt further rounds of thought provoking front page journalism.

     A steady two hours drive away, over on the east coast, the inhabitants of a sleepy fishing community were gainfully employed, pretty much as any other, going about their daily business, one such denizen... a baby crustacean, currently marooned by the tide had taken up temporary accommodation in a beachfront rock-pool property of certain distinction, was as yet unaware of a completely different and obscure set of circumstances that would shortly be rearing his slobbering jowls and bring all four paws, the size of dinner plates, crashing down upon the unsuspecting seashore fauna... was determined while she waited to catch the next high tide home, that until such time that the right wave rolled along, would potter about in the little rock-pool, perhaps indulge herself in a leisurely bathe... and catch up on a spot of therapeutic knitting.

     So, placing the days events since breakfast into perspective...  [i]  the vehicle indemnity provider, henceforth to be named 'the party of the first part', who currently weren't cognisant of an impending claim to date, would shortly be laying eggs attempting to squirm out of all liability, due to  [ii]  the automobile, driven by a minor, fortunately for Salmon senior on private land and henceforth, the aforementioned to be called 'the third party, to the party of the second part...' which urgently needed rigorous cosmetic attention to the rear tail light cluster and surrounding bodywork so as to maintain a favourable resale mark-up price.  [iii]  Having been dragged kicking and screaming from the top of the wardrobe, the luggage had rapidly developed cold feet and cried sudden illness in the family, but were being taken to the Wake anyway.  [iv]  Wrapped around the hot water cylinder since the previous Summer, the various sundry items of holiday apparel stood united, resolute as a Union Picket line not be seen dead looking as though they'd never so much as seen the bottom of a flat-iron.  [v]  Both Red and his wife, Tina, despite wearing the same anaemic smile as the one show to the neighbours as they departed, travelling counter clockwise along the crescent so as not to unduly advertise their recent misadventure with the garage wall, were only going for the sake of the children, whilst  [vi]  River and her errant brother didn't want to go anyway dismayed at leaving the television set behind, were already missing their favourite programs, which only really left  [vii]  'mans-best-friend' who, when he wasn't actually hanging over the front seat giving dad big sloppy licks as though... 'are we nearly there yet' or perhaps... 'I need to stop and spend a penny... or you'll all know about it if you don't,' was more than content to be taking up the majority of the rear seating arrangements and with a delinquent wag of his tail, was deliriously happy to be wherever his family were.**

                                                        ­                             ...   ...   ...

a work in progress.                                                        ­                                                                 ­  1862
And who shall care for that o'er which you weep
Or share the burden of this world's foredoom
Seen starkly? Behold, a haunting specter creeps
Among the binding fates spun on life's loom.
You’ll wake them not to that great misery
Which emptiness of pride has reckless wove
But pluck the web for loss and trembling
Of idols in the soul for which they strove.
Put off your glossy youth and early oaths
Devout nativity; raise up your cup
To ***** Lethe and thunder with the strokes
Of fury, treading out the ripened sup!
They will not bear to flay their sacred cows
But shades of death endure and prostrate bow.

Ages in their veins, more raging, whirl
As titanic potentials’ dreadful might
Turns girl to boy, conversely boy to girl
Unlimbing reason for unreason's fright.
That once gone right, here deftly ventures left
As self-conception staggers to its doom
Bursting the bonds of day and night, distressed
With desperate grasping measures, late and soon.
So set on generation's awesome curve
Of ageless heart and mind, how shall they bear
The die they cast at first when madly swerved
Into contesting congresses of care?
Dividing parts, dissolving in the same
The common wealth, no part the whole maintains.

Boast of the times and gilded privilege
Are these pretended guardians of State
Whose politics of power have sought to bank
Their future 'gainst dissenting arguments.
With rhetoric to foist a brave new age
They come as chaos mages on the brink
Of all disposing will, all ends betrayed
To serve their corporations’ nod and wink.
Auctioning the world, their goods are sold
Commercially with avaricious might
That sanctions lust, in quest of pyrite gold
And pirate earnings, staked upon deceit.
At last, the men of mock integrity
Luring the world to covert slavery!

Hurrah, the master men and lords of time-
From time brought forth, they are the world's latest
Whose overweening strut is in the best
Of culminating age, the mind refined!
Now to and fro they go, their lists increased
With every tally; line for line computes
Their beads of enterprise, the while relieved
Of tribulation, fate of hapless dupes.
Learning is theirs, precepts are theirs to bend;
Lawyers, clerics, politicians rest
Upon this pillar; they can split or mend
The finest lines; no guile their thoughts distress.
Step by step they round the universe
And finite lies to infinite converse!

What pride of theirs that strains for fleeting fame
Seeking to wrest from time the wasting plaque
Of recognition, host to every hack
That postures on the stage of the obscene!
Pretending worth, their practiced scripts dispose
In mocking light an empty dignity
While darkening intents; witless disclosed
On lips and brow their self-important glee.
As if full-wrought by truth's heroic wing
Their pride aspires; on vain conceits they soar
Up through the mist while private songs they sing
In self-made praise for deeds of phantom lore.
From belfries of the schools, in broken flight
They shriek away, hell's banshees of the night!

These timely wise, entranced of mind, decree-
Hear all you simple what we shall disclose
Which craft of our discernment is repose
Of wealth in understanding mastery.
A gift to all, these rich-invested beings
Pretending to resolve profundities
Decoct the world with learned fluency
Of torture ways, all gnostic knots untied.
A flair for comedy, their gelded self
Mounts every snorting bore of certainty
Then armchair resting, pants to yet indulge
Another ******* idol’s reckless scheme.
Some stowaways upon the open seas
And polished sextants of academe!

Here is their derogation, born from creeds
Of judgment in self-righteous confidence
That proves for nothing to the innocent
But swamps life's refugees with cruel conceit.
With ages they have built the edifice
Of dogma; every pit and lion’s maw
Is their contraption, set in consciousness
Of the condemning letter of their laws.
Cunning serpents, masquerading doves
They fashion argument, more vicious wrought
With rationales to blacklist those who strove
To flee their institutions’ heinous plot.
Enamored with a fascist benefit
The systems of the world they implement!

Fanatic men, how bold they tempt the fates
That meet to each the fruits of brutish will
Redoubled, which they’ve spent in kind to date
Upon their brothers, sisters…other self.
They make an estimation, rule the span
Between men; lord over equity
With zero tolerance and brazen hand
To smash upon their consanguinity.
Such is the wicked priesthood’s confidence
In its own judgment, ever owning not
The wrong condemned in others, deep dispensed
To every heart, from roots of life begot.
More wretched they, and haunted with the shame
Of hypocrites, bedeviled by the same!

O law of learning, sum of thinkers' best
Now magnified, ensconced upon the power
Of natal worth and privileged social dower;
Once ruled by you, the Earth pleads for redress.
No scruple sought, no reservation found
To staunch against your certifying will
Which point of iron stylus now furrows
The world at large as object for the ****.
So cart away your pleading victim, mired
In ****** wallows of concupiscence
And grace deny, self-dubbed the doubtless squire-
Errant usurper of the human quest.
How dignified, the rake of your ambition
That promises continual division!
To-night retired, the queen of heaven
  With young Endymion stays;
And now to Hesper it is given
Awhile to rule the vacant sky,
Till she shall to her lamp supply
  A stream of brighter rays.

Propitious send thy golden ray,
  Thou purest light above!
Let no false flame ****** to stray
Where gulf or steep lie hid for harm;
But lead where music’s healing charm
  May soothe afflicted love.

To them, by many a grateful song
  In happier seasons vow’d,
These lawns, Olympia’s haunts, belong:
Oft by yon silver stream we walk’d,
Or fix’d, while Philomela talk’d,
  Beneath yon copses stood.

Nor seldom, where the beechen boughs
  That roofless tower invade,
We came, while her enchanting Muse
The radiant moon above us held:
Till, by a clamorous owl compell’d,
  She fled the solemn shade.

But hark! I hear her liquid tone!
  Now Hesper guide my feet!
Down the red marl with moss o’ergrown,
Through yon wild thicket next the plain,
Whose hawthorns choke the winding lane
  Which leads to her retreat.

See the green space: on either hand
  Enlarged it spreads around:
See, in the midst she takes her stand,
Where one old oak his awful shade
Extends o’er half the level mead,
  Enclosed in woods profound.

Hark! how through many a melting note
  She now prolongs her lays:
How sweetly down the void they float!
The breeze their magic path attends;
The stars shine out; the forest bends;
  The wakeful heifers graze.

Whoe’er thou art whom chance may bring
  To this sequester’d spot,
If then the plaintive Siren sing,
O softly tread beneath her bower
And think of Heaven’s disposing power,
  Of man’s uncertain lot.

O think, o’er all this mortal stage
  What mournful scenes arise:
What ruin waits on kingly rage;
How often virtue dwells with woe;
How many griefs from knowledge flow;
  How swiftly pleasure flies!

O sacred bird! let me at eve,
  Thus wandering all alone,
Thy tender counsel oft receive,
Bear witness to thy pensive airs,
And pity Nature’s common cares,
  Till I forget my own.
Two soldiers as they walk
Lamenting with much despair
Far away from that deadly grip
Of fear and deprivation
For every person everywhere
In every country tribe and nation.

Disposing of those clothes they wore
Casting away without hesitation
Removing reminders of that deadly war
Making mends and new relations
Building a world like never before
With tears of joy on this special occasion.

Two soldiers whose lives were on the line
Head towards a brand new day
They raise their hopes for the very first time
Since they were detained so far away
Behind those enemy lines
Celebrating better times and future days .

Two soldiers together in company
Telling tales of those fearsome times
Happy now they are safe and free
With parties and gatherings in the street
Time now to raise a glass of wine
Alive and standing on there feet .

So long you guns and bombs
Upon this earth you did not belong
You created a world of fear
But now those days are dead and gone
And peace time now is here
Let's hope one day the world will stand as one.
How long will our bewildered heirs
marooned in possessions not theirs
puzzle at disposing of these three
cunning feignings of hard candy in glass-
the striped little pillowlike mock-sweets,
the flared end-twists as of transparent paper?

No clue will be attached, no trace
of the sunny day of their purchase,
at a glittering shop a few doors
up from Harry's Bar, a disappointing place
for all its testaments from Hemingway.
The Grand Canal was also aglitter
while the lesser canals lay in the shade
like snakes, flicking wet tongues
and gliding to green rendezvous.

The immaculate salesgirl, in her aloof
Italian succulence, sized us up,
a middle-aged American couple,
as unserious shoppers who,
still half jet-lagged, would cling to their lire
in the face of any enchanted vase
or ethereal wineglass that might shatter
in the luggage going home.

Yet we wanted something, something small ....
This? No ... How much is ten thousand? Dizzy,
at last we decided. She wrapped
the three glass candies, the cheapest
items in the shop, with a showy care
worthy of crown jewels-tissue,
tape, and tissue again sprang up
beneath her blood-red fingernails,
plus a jack-in-the-box-shaped paper bag
adorned with harlequin lozenges, sad
though she surely was, on her feet waiting
all day for a wild rich Arab, a compulsive Japanese.
Grazie, signor ... grazie, signora ... ciao.

Nor will our thing-weary heirs decipher
the little repair, the reattached triangle
of glass from the paper-imitating end-twist,
its mending a labor of love in the cellar,
by winter light, by the man of the house,
mixing transparent epoxy and rigging
a clever small clamp as if to keep
intact the time that we, alive,
had spent in the feathery bed
at the Europa e Regina.
Louisa Coller Jan 2015
Sacred words are left out in stone,
the carved wordings will remain for long.
I don’t see why curiosity, always catches me at the sleeve.
It’s like I am a pet of the devil, wanting to find the light within.
I walk around like the cat, watching every single spark.
I embrace the lovely patterns, wondering when my light will shine.
I saw the gorgeous skies, shade away into purple cloths.
I remember seeing your light, for the very first time.
It shone brighter than anyone’s, I don’t even understand why.
You aren't the greatest, you aren't the best,but neither am I.

I saw the words being placed, down onto the cards to heaven.
I looked at the lanterns, fly away into the sky.
Dim lights of yellow and orange too, remembering how much I loved you.
Death is a sweet embrace, yet why do I yearn for something to waste?
It shone brighter than anyone’s, I don’t even understand why.
I don’t see the point, in disposing love or life.
She walks down the dark road, with traffic lights flashing at her,
she remembers every single day, that she needs to keep on living.
Through every shade, of red, yellow and green she needs, to remember you.
Walking down a path of remembrance, leads into a list of names.
When the first child is bared, she is labelled with your name.
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
i am of the light
despite
my shroud
that crowds the villains in the toppled telemetry of my steeds
galloping gallantly from the burning cities of my dreams

i shall gleam from her or he
that which delivers
their truths faithfully to their dreams
open wounds turn invitation
in the pity of hungry thieves
who dared to dream
of peasants king-ed.
as we sing
sing
of desperation
in passionate confessions
of jaded wisdom
passed on through every failure
never to falter
in the betrayals of Walters
lost
in loss-less flac files
i have miles to go
smiles to grow
daggers projectiles
from mild mannered children
freshly ridden
of maniacal miracles
spiritual
but not stupid
we are troopin
this lucid movement
grooving
to the repetition of the drum
the gas blow back of a gun
the bursting bubbles of bubble gum
having fun
i learnt goodly on the run

learned nothing in victory

learned nothing in simplicity

complacently

snickering it all away
bullet by bullet
case by case
and eventually the blade
in my compassionate displays
we shall congregate
and hate ourselves
**** the donks to hell
dwelling on the cellar doors
that darkos teacher adored
in verbal massacre
of the written literature
of cracked brain fixtures
seeping the lines
in cold tingles
down the spines of maniacs

just relax

mix it down on a track
spit the thesis into pieces
through the creases of cracked sneakers, and out the speakers
of trouble seekers.

mistakes make us

deliberate chaos
tossed  
upon the fakers
who cry to think
the dream
became a reality
mistake us
for serrated blades that rip the hearts from beasts
sometimes i stop to think
while having a drink
conclusive brinks
of sanity creaks
of my humility
secreting
frivolously
the disposing of my jealousy
of your feelings

hellaciously
i rip a felony
from a face
in appealing agony
antagonizing me
in the frenzied forensics
of my oblique
outlooks
none of us
were ever crooks
speaking to self
while being booked
in hell
In the endless of the Universe in an Unknown World exists a Lone Black Rose that flourished at the beginning of when time itself did not even exist. Its mysterious mesmerizing power drawned the God Of Immortality towards it's enigmatic eerie existance. The unimaginable beauty perplexed the God that he drawn himself closer to it not knowing the outcome of what might happen He asked himself ...what could be there in the endless void of the multiverse that has not been created by my hand doing here? All the sudden tremendous power eminates from flower and it's beautiful tentelizing petals begin to transform it's root begins to take shape and the rose itself the color of the purest form of the shades of black materialize to a gorgeous young woman a Godess the color of the void.

God known by endless multiple names mainly known by the human race as Yahweh* or Immanuel* the immortal one the one in charge of creation the ultimate light or radiant one stands there petrified at what he has just witnessed. At the brink of an instant the mysterious Black Rose that transgressed to recreate itself to the image of a woman telepathically communicates to Yahweh calling him by his nameless name a name not even the Son his primordial creation knows. I am the Goddess of the Void the one in charge of ending the endless cycles of Galaxies, Stars and Universes. I am the opposite of you and I am the ultimate force that will always remain aware and alive to complement your divine power and will. We are the Gods of creation and destruction you being the Creator and I being the Destroyer. You who's boundary of power is limitless and forever changing, transforming and evolving into the purest form of Light ...and me who's power is limitless like yours but is never changing forever staying the same and always and constantly destroying and disposing of matter and at times even anti-matter who's sole purpose is to bring death to all things excluding you. We need each other for the Cosmos to coexist peacefully within the Multiverse. For your time and my time has no boundary no limitations therefore we are linked to each other we share the fate of immortality and unimaginable power a force so that immense that in itself you are me and I am you.

You are the White Rose the Divine God of Light. Maker of the Multiverse,Time and Space. I am the Black Rose the Ominous God of Darkness. Maker of Parallel Dimensions, Ultimate Death, Dealer of Destruction. Without us...Nothing can exist without us no source or essence can withstand to be able to be created without us what makes everything work in the past,present and future cannot be. Our sustainability depends on the link we share as God's of the Universes. As you know and I know we are ONE made to share this power and to never abuse or unbalance it's nature. Hence the moment we do that will be our last instant alive and upon us self destruction shall be made.

From that moment on destiny changed the Gods in charge of all reality. The Immortal Gods balancing everything together making sure creation itself is sustained in the everlasting balance a equilibrium so perfect that even perfection is not good enough to describe it.

From there on the God of Light and the Goddess of Dark became close and discovered a force even greater than themselves...LOVE. Finally unified they made the races of many kinds to inhabit the cosmos to worship them. In time imperfect they all became due to disobedience to their makers and that created disharmony and hate among each other.

That displeased the Gods and in the end and ever since the beginning it all stayed as it always was...The Right to have Free Will. Lastly, we can search for the immortal ones but they can be found within you...for you and I where made in their likeness and their image. So come now search deep within your soul and find the God in you and awaken the ONE who gives eternal life and ultimate bliss...

Who is the intermediator...his name is Christ. Talk with him in your heart and he will change you. Allow love to exist in your life and it is the first and last step you will ever make to getting to know the path you must take to gain salvation. May the Light of the Radiant One shine in you and may the Darkness be embraced carefully but do not allow evil to roam in your heart. Allow love to flow thru you so you can die knowing where your headed.

May the Gods bless you. Thanks for reading.
Franko The Christian Poet® 2016
The Two Immortal Gods
Deities of Alter Reality
SassyJ Mar 2016
A ***** drills inside my core
It nags, graps, pans, the hands
They knot in spins and twists

My crux left at the river side
Breathing,gasping fast, faster
Body out in the open rawness

Persisting resistance of the force
An outward shield winning
Winged left,right, up, down

Another day, a greater pace
A passive taste, ranting in haste
In bricks *****, all I taste is hate

All walking in dead silence
Heads shouting with dreams
A roll of sweet and sour sate

Echoes of taxes and budgets
How will they evolve us?
Snatching more from pockets

The rockets burst to mock us
Pulling our all to fund them
Nuclear bombs creating tombs

Distribution of lies and wars
Missiles disposing as lyrics
An objectification of reason

Figure brushes on magazines
Incisions of bits and **** hoots
To boost of the hot posed ***

No truth is scaffolded as real
A psychological brainwash
Pollutes and limits indefinately
Human interactions can leave one vulnerable and emotionally drained. How much are we socially indoctrinated?
The revolving dreams of the social structure and institution!!!
twelve caesuras Jan 2014
a dark divide
separates us
and ancient shadows flicker endlessly,
right on our heels

those days when
i could finally fall asleep and
woke up to your body sprawled across the bare mattress that we had to share because we were cold and drunk and lonely
they were seized by the neck and choked out slowly,
painfully

your face whenever
i told you atama ga itai desu
looked as if you were in as much pain as i was
and i loved that i wasn't alone in my loneliness
even if it throbbed slowly,
painfully

back in ninth grade when
i finally got the guts to gouge mine out
the pure anguish tracing your curved back
left me in an intoxication of guilt and desire
but one of the two faded out like the memory, slowly,
painfully

i remember asking you
about long division and astrophysics
with my eyes closed, under the cover of dusk and sloth
though a euphoric kind of daydream
colored maroon by the infinite embarrassment flowering on your cheeks
and the crisp braeburns of the autumn while they turn pale in the cold, slowly,
painfully

i will always watch you fall in love slowly,
painfully


how sharp are craft scissors as they leave a fissure in our paper reminiscence
that only i've kept
until my face is in your trash bin with demon horns and unsightly markings scribbled on in confusion that you conceived as anger
and you don't know how to feel until garbage day when i'm taken to the dump
and you regret disposing of me in that manner of yours while i sit decaying in a heap of garbage slowly,
painfully

a dark divide
separates us
and ancient shadows flicker endlessly,
right on our heels
though we never hoped to
steep to this
filthy lull
I have a strong intention
intending to break through all convention
conventional ways end up as my contention
contending with obstacles of my invention

i have a bad disposition
disposing of all the worthless tradition
traditional ways put us in this condition
conditional waves of bad transmission

i have a new destination
destined to try a brand new adaptation
adapting just isn't my contemplation
contemplating a different creation
Amanda Jean Jan 2011
He sees her now, merely a stranger in passing.
Disposing the past that led up to this.
It only takes a glance,
Their minds battle.
They are released.

Two demons.
One love.
An addiction to the addict,
A desire to be desired,
Two demons.
One lie.

She sees him, merely a stranger in passing.
His once soothing face now stirs up rage within her.
Her smile distorts, with only intentions of mocking him.
He receives her smile and replies with a menacing chuckle.
They break out once again.

Two demons.
One passion.
An overdose of emotion,
The pleasure of pleasing.
Two demons.
One mistake.

Two strangers cross paths,
Glaring straight ahead as if they are trying to penetrate everything before them.
No soul knows what they know.

Two demons.
One loss.

Hauntingly, they fade into the crowd.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2016
me and my drinking? no... in the next sandpit with christ saving all the retards so heath ledger can **** himself, because the best defence people have against their ****** escapades are a bunch of retards limbless, a crucifix, and the modern trend of premature depression with nothing accomplished and the torture of the immobile christ only trying to provide moloch babies ****** herders: while the rich worry about lip-gloss and gucci spectacles of torn shirts that cost a mammon's tonne but were lighter than an autumnal leaf: yeah, blame the retards on sane people's *** mistakes for saint ******. your choices obstruct my will: fated loathing is my compromise; and by god i hate to be a moraliser.*

i drink to excess when a populist
wants to speak,
and poetry becomes just
another art of the privileged
and i become simply ***,
god give me a life where i don't want
to write, a night without national socialism
and global capitalism:
where's the next competition, mars?!
i used to like playing silverchair's shade
with my guitar, my guitar became an acoustic
5 string rhythm which was hardly a bass...
so i stopped playing...
it's talk about moral darwinism when
a tsunami or a tornado has no darwinism involved:
force of nature, some theories had to fail.
i'm more accepting a retired drunk footballer in me
or an alex hurricane higgins in me that
i wish to delve into poetics:
when the next informal figure of speech
to buy an iron or a jumper? when? oh, never...
never?! ****.
***** acting killed off *** of the usual people,
i knew on the basis of numbering fake *******
that switched sides....
they call objectivity superior to subjectivity...
but in relation subjectivity comes from having
a talk about it, not automatons disposing it...
have talk about ******* and all you can think
of in your little nerd brain is the foreseeable pay-rise
of garbage men... hence?
subjectivity comes from overbearing certain objects
for rhetorical purposes...
and leaving other objects automatically based
like sewage...
objectivity says: this many objects exist
but i don't talk about most of them...
subjectivity says: this many subjects exist
but i dare not see most of them as related to
a specified object for argument that's nonetheless there:
acronym tangle of being relevant, otherwise not...
politics... in rhetorical terms there's a superiority of
one against the other...
i see a fern... can i explore it subjectively? no.
can i explore the fern objectively? yes....
there's a tree next to it...
how does that make feel? it makes me feel like:
i exist, i think, therefore i philosophise by faked doubting
like a woman faking ******... mind that:
men are more nautically optical when it comes to pleasure,
women close their eyes when *******,
they internalise what's otherwise exposed masculine
genitalia forced like a beauty hernia -
male eroticism is optic, female eroticism zeniths are
internalised for the bred fact of being both vaginal
and womb, so scary the eroticism dies when
the foetus replaces the post-virginity fancy of the phallus;
but still the ****** actresses that destroy marriages,
but none can destroy the joke:
lips got the treatment of balloon augmentation
and clitoral lips got islam: the former puffed up
and the latter got the snip-factor for less oral ***.
now will you please play me the arabic trombone?!
mom is sick her 90th birthday is in several weeks she says she has lived a long full life and is ready to die the doctors are trained to keep her alive i remember when the doctors kept dad alive while waiting for the cancer to attack a vital ***** i wonder if this practice of keeping people alive is humane mom forgets events 2 hours earlier walks into mirrors falls down wakes up with black eyes i’m having trouble sleeping thinking morbid thoughts maybe lots of people all around the world are waiting to die people ***** mutilated robbed cheated bankrupt homeless war victims old people with chronic diseases dependent on caretakers maybe millions of people are thinking about death waiting hoping praying for death faced with the growing problem of overpopulation why can’t we mitigate the suffering of those waiting to die i don’t understand



in early morning i drift out of sleep toss right turn left look out window glance Mount Lemmon stretch out on back planter flex dorsal flex toes extend arms out to sides over head look up at exposed redwood beams ceiling try to remember interpret understand what i was dreaming rise from bed brush teeth walk around make bed pull brush sheets try to take dump because i don’t want to embarrass myself in pilates class drink water slip on gym shorts head down stairs grab keys lock door scan garden always feel lucky if Saab starts drive to Tucson racquet fitness club pilates class



i am ready to move away from Tucson nobody here wants needs me no one reads my writings or is interested in showing buying my paintings sun scorches bakes intrudes invades rudely glaring mercilessly my skin suffers i am thinking about heading back east North Hampton Massachusetts or Hudson Valley area or Chicago where i have many friends or rainy Apeldoorn Netherlands where Pavanne and Shannon live or Eureka California where Shannon also resides i’ve paid my dues a thousand times hoping to achieve success i live in fantasy imagining outcomes that never come



younger attractive female doctor wearing white coat low heel black pumps enters room of 60 year old patient suffering from depression loneliness despair

DOCTOR please sit up and open your gown (she plugs stethoscope into her ears)

PATIENT you want to hear my heart

DOCTOR breathe deep breaths (she examines glands around throat under arms shines light into ears eyes nose mouth) hmmm what symptoms caused you to admit yourself

PATIENT i’ve been feeling frustrated defeated isolated anxious for a while

DOCTOR you look strong healthy height weight proportionate i think your problems are psychological you may want to find a good therapist

PATIENT i’ve seen many as a kid none helped

DOCTOR well if you think you’re ready to be euphonized i can schedule you for next week of course the hospital will need to make arrangements for disposing your body

PATIENT does it hurt

DOCTOR the drug industry has made huge advances in the last few years i’ve been informed the procedure is actually quite euphoric

PATIENT next week huh like Friday or Saturday next week

DOCTOR the hospital will contact you

PATIENT do i need to bring anything or what do i wear

DOCTOR the hospital will contact you with a list of details including an e-will if you have family or relations

PATIENT thank you for your kindness you’re really sweet and pretty i don’t see a wedding ring are you married or single my mom would love to hear i’m dating a doctor
Nicole Joanne Mar 2015
spring cleaning in the form of blasting your bands music
while i pick up the clothes that smell like him.

spring cleaning in the form of replaying the day I walked away
over and over in my head as if to erase all that happened afterwards.

spring cleaning in the form of taking all the poetry I wrote about you,
and scrambling them up to mean something entirely different.

spring cleaning in the form of endless shampooing,
to rid the touch of your hands from my hair.

spring cleaning in the form of disposing all memories made in winter.

(NJ2015) All Rights Reserved
J Penpla Feb 2013
Oh the weary wanderings
of that silly son
Who can’t reconcile his retreat
but continues on the run
That crafty, that capricious conscience
On who’s whimsical watch
finds no time for penance
A transitory fellow
seeking only care-free condition
Disposing without a care
or notion of contrition
His God-given gifts
and unmade choices
And thus made, though not
by ignoring those voices
That appeal to his younger
more righteous reason
Heeding instead the voices
that better suit the season
Leaving vocation to thirst
unquenched and dry
Impervious to it all
because the end is never nigh
All his truths and convictions
ephemeral in nature
This wandering son
this prodigal creature
These biblical proportions are a bit of a stretch but strangely, whenever I go broke, I feel a little like a prodigal *****
Martin Narrod Oct 2016
Hello morning, I have anticipated you since
I awoke to the small barking dog's tailored speak for food.

I want that Eddie should start preparing her own meals. I know that while I smoke this morning's cigarette, that French Bulldog inside contemplates the fifty dollar bag of high-grade kibble she has pushed me to buy her or instead enjoying her own ****. And all of my wives friends call her a lady.

I want to ride alone in our FJ Cruiser through Yellowstone at dawn, before the predators have gone to bed and the tourists make their queues, I want to beat morning until I have found the wolves, and the sun rise mocks me as I sit four hours in traffic for a cup of coffee as I round the shivering peaks of our Rocky Mountain backyard landscape, and the Tetons swell with last nights snow-fall and the warm autumn air sends plumes of frigid mist above the valley floor and into the skies above Jackson.

And I wish I could stand once more on the balcony of the 777 building and smoke the finest sativas with my friend Turtle while our significant others drink coffees and watch reruns of American Gladiators on a $14,000 couch waiting for us to come back inside.

I wish I could wait on the benches outside baggage claim at San Francisco International Airport smoking inside the white lines, waiting for a girl in a red sports car to pick me up and my friend Guy's absurd faces there to greet me amidst the fog and the out of place palm trees Inevwr expected to see so far North.

And it would be great to hear my grandfather play the ukulele once more while I excitedly fished off of my grandparents dock somewhere in New Jersey where my mother's accent insists she grew up. And my grandfather sings horrifically demeaning songs written in 1924 that offer little respect to women, but much adventure to young men.

I want to play tag with the neighborhood children again in the Summer of 1995. Even though I had come to find all of those playing tag had absconded to a game entitled The 'A' Game, which its only rules were to exclude me from joining. I want to throw scalding hot water once more into Simon Berman's face. Though I do not wish for him to block the water with a basketball and turn my face into Jack Nicholson's Joker.

In Chicago as an eighteen year old, I could count the chalk outlines of bodies as I drove down Fullerton Avenue through the Logan Square neighborhood. I wish I could remember those sounds the boricua made. I wish I could forget the burning runs I received from Lazo's burritos at some time 'o clock in the morning.

I've never been one for finding edible late-night eats. I only want the memory of being able to do so. I do wish that my wife's ex-best friend's boyfriend realizes that he's less the great Emeril of his kitchen and more or less is just an unemployed sous chef with a laundry list of felonies, rather than a wish list of awful entrees. At least in that memory, he's neither a chef nor my wife's ex-friend's boyfriend and instead he's just another hideous orcish ****** ringing the doorbells in some suburb of Seattle, announcing to each and every one of his neighbors that he's obligated to notify the community of his ****** offenses.

I just wish I was there to witness his humiliation, and enjoy the total collapse of ego amidst the long list of those decent people he has surely offended.

Perhaps in some future life I can enjoy watching as jungle rot solves my hatred, disposing of his evilness in small skin ***** of flesh that dot the sidewalk while his disease evolves.

I want more vegan eating options across the food desert we call America. I want to arrive home one evening and find my wife ancy to share a new study that American Journal of Medixibe has found on the benefits of providing non-reciprocated ******* to your partners. And I want to be the first to enjoy the benefits of such a study, that I'm encouraged by her to publish my findings while I attend a prestigious university I once wasn't allowed to attend because of my religious background.

I want to live in a world where violence is no longer a viable solution to resolving the in differences we as humans confuse each other trying to make sense of between ourselves.

I want to visit our local grocery store and find that my favorite $8 a pint vegan ice cream has been marked down to a more reasonable number and that there is still an abundance of flavors left for me to choose from.

I don't wish for much: to not have people ask me to speak louder, full-frontal ****** in made for television movies, and a decent blonde IPA for under $10 in glass bottles. Where in this world can a poet go and still receive the respect that was once given by the royal monarchy of The British Empire.

Now it seems those with the fine knowledge of words are cast into a class with less regard than street-drifters and the homeless.

When did our world lose major respect for the artisans of fine art, or the ability to render an opus?

28-integer news memos and 15-second clips of our cute dog eating its own **** attract more attention than a fine explanation of the human condition or the sultry and sophisticated sounds of my Argentinian friend Anna recite Garcia Lorca in her native Spanish tongue.

I just want to be gone before there is a consequence for finding joy in the human condition, and honesty and integrity are known as the recividism that takes down our nation.

We were once the leaders of a great country. We were compelled by our history to create and indoctrinate one another to achieve, conceive, and amend ourselves to thrive amidst the uncertainty of a mischievous and disgraceful society. Now I just wish to be in bed with my wife when this storm of stupidity comes. I wish I never had to be on the receiving end of a sermon set forth by business leaders instead of political achievers.

I want Eddie to make herself some breakfast so I can lay here in bed a few more moments. I want pancakes and fresh fruit juice for breakfast, a quiet room and a hard-covered notebook. I want to believe a great pen and a good friend could lead me through the exciting and anxiety-writhing times in this life, but I to know too sadly that we live in a world where we don't view it as a weakness as those around us may not be able to read or may not be able to write.
We live in a world filled with disposable things
made to be used once, but seldom more than twice
with little or no attachment, we consume mindlessly
single-serving coffee or single serving relationships, it's all the same

We've learned to measure value in terms of convenience

Instant gratification comes with a price, but one we gladly pay
disposing of the evidence neatly and quietly, the carcasses
monuments to a purpose well served; vacant hearts never filled
material things only heal wounds superficially, but

nothing lasts forever, right?
*Our soulless smile, just another by-product of living a disposable life
another repost/remix
Christine Ueri Jan 2016
You took me to the beach house
along Amaryllis Street

so I could pick up where you left off

crushing waves against the rocks
the high tide  
re-collecting in time-lapse images

how you had vanished up the dirt road of a lie
(sand between my teeth, on my tongue)
how I had buried bulbs of Amaryllis
in the wake of your goodbye

a casket of dormancy suspended
an unanchored buoyancy disposing of I
in seaweed trenches

besides

the Amaryllis bloomed  
a distant wreath of pink trumpet heads

splitting

pushing through the time-lapse
holograms of a shallow rhizome mind
30/12/2015
Hanson Yang Sep 2018
Toney talking **** ever was been at relative action: so this is what happens when i own ****
the game and the actual man that prones ****
talking **** like if it was actual that arms **** short for the factual
i've been underneath like i wrote the bible since like it was his "wonder feat"
You're a wonder feat till you understand like every plundered treats,
the E in Eden has you wonder feats repetitive like a tree grown demanding scars in roots like i was underneath: Playing me only gets you murdered  like actual feats cuz this ******* talking **** like if anything hurters like Obama to your hair mang like how you arose a gangbanger to man defeat
ir really was me mang startin **** everyday all confused everyday like if demand was me.
Cuz i'm all g man another ******* till i'm ever he stand
raise it like how magnitude backstabs left was she man commandin fleets
Raise it like how it passes all magnitude was hidden from know by praise of it's masses, cuz now i'm startin ****, startin **** with my claimed owner of kinfolks, disposing flows and all opposing with your chinblow; been smoke till i'm ******* up all your naturality as it was real in every returned K to the K-O chaos enlived flow the to the now chin mode to every kinsmoke.
Bleed mode like an attempt to **** your **** up with one need- blow of my established chin mode to discovered manhood in precision given of range.
I'm jacking up my A-O to every Kayo like getting my cigarettes jacked now asked for every parallel to mind of my females to enlivened envision of range
enlivened envision of rage
enlivened envision of hate
.....Thinking jacking me was or is ever the body neutral has every one of you and my kinfolk women jacking your **** like shittin you at enlivened in thangs
I'll be everything anything anybody prasing me like assistance in ranks to be given out perception to my women now to restrictive in thangs insisting the aim: right? right, yeah right it's right as given as range
the higher you go you know ******* well of it's enlivened discovery absolute like marraige in range that **** the lesser when you're rearranging the pain
talking **** been magnitude mang like the masses pretend hides **** before i was ever fake claiming lives before you would know ******* well that proof aiming was claimed
as if rhymes was the median:
I'LL **** YOU ******* TO AIM RANGE WAIT,
i'll get your *** craving for everything stolen in energy that i own for every *** that you're in it just validates your life justly justifies your claim to my aim range strength truthly you're only talking **** as hindsight of all desperate measures to the existance of all body. Raise it and be the man of learnt confusion to all hate and chaos as chosen path to the actual "levels HIGHER already like if all extensions was justly validating as all talk when i been spittin claim when i'm shitten remember me as when i am all talk when everyone smaller was all brought like hindsight perception.
Knowing me was all absolute in all talk like minest sight deception: I'll ****** you **** now you're knowing truth: true truest nature before i was ever you in being a faker; more like a being you know truest dreams as instinct before i was ever a ranker: I'll ****** you **** in complete pristine dreamed grabs at crutch crotch as aim range prankster even wankster as the holder of time,
space and time clean backstabs as you fist **** of every trip traps as a pristinely dreamed beings pretending underneath when all you are now are on top of every wonder **** if ever reupping the true as if you know what i am in reality before intercedence death cuz it was truly me: like reality this is all future to all your poetry actual renders a blank gaze of mine of wisdom as you write your blank page is actually what aim range explains space to what blank faced truly is at fake takes of what you've stolen in actuality reality owned envisions of me
like enlivenment only just visions creates in actuality ranks raised none enlivens but make ways as a holder of time ever remembers me none as the entity's won actual remembrance of me: lonesome to none to truthful beings who reject truth in reality was really ever to gain none sight to minest right ever to wrong surity might right sight.
i own **** what you are: like all small things in my stature of nature lived as holder of everything comes to pass, your only fault is visions of perfection in education given back to your ***. I'LL WAIT *******.....
anastasiad Nov 2016
What is a person in the middle harm (MITM)? Imagine this, an opponent applies up an imitation financial institution internet site in addition to entices buyers fot it web site. The person forms in their pass word, along with the aggressor therefore functions that information gain access to the lending company genuine internet site. If this describes done properly and also discretely, the user won't realise that he / she isn for the lender web page. Your assailant after that disconnects the consumer and tends to make almost any fake purchases how they wish or travels an individual business banking transactions while making his personal trades concurrently.

The best menace is usually deception because of impersonation. The particular ways regarding impersonation will vary as a result of this defense. Outside of wedding band 2 component authentication will probably push thieves to modify their own practices for you to impersonate you together with is a great technique to discourage most of these strikes.

Protected tokens, these tiny essential fobs having altering account details, have been thought to be panic disorder many of the basic safety concerns banks confront around discovering their particular consumers. It a great choice greater compared to a straightforward username and password, but it surely not just a bulletproof option that numerous men and women think that it is. Using a male didn't remember the words assault, where the individual can be giving its code and also other material, the particular enemies could clear away a forex account in just a few minutes.

Attackers are obtaining smarter every day when new precautionary features will be made against these. Many clients would think about bogus website instead of have the capacity to decide it is a false website that has been built by the assailants. More often than not these kind of web pages are generally exact same from the genuine websites.

Having a guy in between harm, Trojans along with other spyware are lying throughout wait for an person to access some sort of qualified website, mainly financial plus personal solutions. When the site involves not one but two point authorization in the get access process, say for example a protection important and also token, an individual would certainly enter in the 1 time private data in the token completely uninformed that this invasion is manufactured for the consumer.
An effective way in order to eliminate guy in the centre strikes is to try using the SSL association (as most finance institutions perform), with the user to check the authenticity from the SSL certificates from the machine there're associated with also to employ from band not one but two component certification. This proves that you are attached to the lender straight, to never a man in the center or perhaps a phishing web page in addition to youe capable to discover all by yourself employing outside of group a pair of component validation. Beyond strap 2 issue authorization is best suited for in the event the subsequent factor involving verification develops on the contract period in contrast to if a consumer fire wood throughout.

Cyber terrorists are usually trying to find pertaining to top secret info presented on your desktop. They prefer phishing episodes to help take your testimonials along with determine these individuals since you fraudulently.

The best way safe and sound ya think you might be in opposition to phishing problems plus dude in the centre strikes? Even when you may feel safeguarded searching the world wide web as well as visiting within your online banking, yourrrre still coupled to the principal steady flow of the online where by dude in the center violence could happen. Being able to view machines throughout the world to be able to method details as well as examine private data positions you actually at risk. Even if you or perhaps your business enterprise works by using beyond wedding ring two-factor authorization, all depends about the a higher level basic safety made available from your remedies service but it will depend on the way thorough the finish user in fact is. Just a good out-of-band a couple of issue verification answer may offer the safety that you might want. This is taken a little more forward through the use of any out of strap two aspect verification solution that offers absolutely nothing foot print safety measures as well.

Phishing to get Data

Phishing is often a technique for wanting to acquire hypersensitive information including usernames, passwords in addition to bank card information and facts by simply masquerading as a honest company within an automated interaction. Phishing is much like disposing of your lure looking to trap your private data. There are plenty of means of phishing by means of tricks regarding net houses along with printing but the idea is always to make believe be described as a kind of curiosity towards the sufferer. Once the enemy has generated confidence by simply pretending to be the web site you intended to stop by or even as a result of some form of transmission for instance contact or phone they're going to attempt to siphon details. Phishing can even be completed mail spoofing or im. Bankruptcy lawyer las vegas information is obtained you may be the particular victim involving identity fraud or you'll ended up being the weak link around stability your business originating from a man-in-the-middle assault.

Figuring out using the Man-in-the-Middle

Man-in-the-middle attacks certainly are a sort of eavesdropping that the assailant creates self-sufficient contacts with all the subjects and relays mail messages between the two, making them imagine that these are talking immediately conversing with each other on the non-public link, while in actuality the entire discussion is handled with the enemy. Picture this situation, you will be enjoying a casino game of telephone however pal at the center maintains adjusting the solution. When an assailant has generated appreciable link involving along with their own priority, might be by means of phishing, they might adjust communication. Using this adjustment associated with interaction they even can catch material used in two-factor authorization because most many people have net on the cell phones.

Improved Two-Factor Authorization

If you want varieties of two-factor verification the best kinds make the most of out-of-band zero size connection. Out-of-band certification implements a individual system to distinguish a customer such as the telephone sites. Strikes may happen even though not one but two point verification is present, although the prospects for a guy in the center assault working much less expensive. Employing a new zero size solution can look after a little more forward versus these types of problems. From music group a couple of issue authorization along with Absolutely no records foliage no locate of confirmation regarding and apply no information from your device used by identifying a person. The idea is that their without the need of everything being in the water there is little change to no chance being captured because of the lure involving phishing.

Though there are truly zero protection techniques that prevent strikes 100% almost daily, out of wedding ring 2 aspect authentication methods absolutely are a remarkable enhancement above solitary issue verification solutions. Moving forward tactics and a lot more complex attackers earn some types of two-factor certification look a lot more like any placebo than the usual solution. Out-of-band actually zero influence two-factor authentication is the foremost defense against phishing as well as man-in-the-middle problems.

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ChristinaS Jan 2014
When you lean in close to my ear and allow me to believe that I can trust you; that the words that will fall from your mouth like a liquid, fast and flowing will be precious and sacred, it is the definition of betrayal.

I pray that when I claim your threats do not scare me, I will cease to be terrified, but they jab at me, as a forked tongue would. I hear the hissing in my ear, which was at first a pleasant change from the persistent drone, but quickly became something much more painful. Where there should be a paternal love, I find a gaping hole. A hole that you and I constantly work to fill, like shady men in the night, hurriedly disposing of the evidence that could rob them of their freedom. Our relationship is a ***** secret.

Whilst I could be a rich girl living off sympathy alone, you have selfishly taken that right from me, in one swift and cunning move. With one forced smile - one ****** movement - that emphasises the creases in your forehead (which, I hear, though I struggle to remember, once kept me entertained for hours), you convince them that all is more than well.

Why pretend that your heart is heavy with pride if the word is not a part of your vocabulary? Why take to grinning if the upwards inching of the corners of your mouth is so unnatural of a feeling to you that it feels like a chore - uncomfortable and laborious?

These people have no care for your state of mind, nor do they care at all about your quality of life. Your time, surely, would be much better spent attending to your sick home than attending to your royal reputation that, when you consider what you have in reality, is worthless.

You bare to me the resemblance of a curious child whose dreamy head is filled with images of faraway lands, glittering treasures and sand. Stop. Perhaps now is the time to awaken from your slumber. The grains are fast slipping through your fingers.

I'm not sorry.
Michael Kyle Mar 2014
I rub that stress up off my temple, I'm off the tip
Lay back and taking a wonderful trip, with a pen and pad, I’m speaking that "Do you feel this"
and my vault stays set off that realness
So I hit them for real with the quickness, tying false individuals in stitches
Realize the fact but please come precise, because I could be relentless
Suspicion, coming up on some recognition that’s why I'm creeping from behind
With a towel soaked with ammonia, non-fiction, I'm all prepared to go for mine
So step in line, a couple of hits, brains dismissed, I change faces like I change places
With a gingsu blade, I'll slit your throat just like them Dartmouth ****** cases
Invisible traces, but I wasn’t committed cause there was no evidence
Minor scent of that formaldehyde, and I can almost sense the obsession
What's the answer to the question? Get tested, don't come if you can’t come correct
It's that dog eat dog type life, so I don't know what you were expected
Nevermore so wreck less, nevertheless I'm a saint in a bulletproof vest, sick
Letting it all hang down, straight pound for pound, you need to take a step down
80 caliber rounds, I'm running around through your whole town
Terminating them down like Black Ops 2 set on death match with an AN-94
Disposing these clowns and their bodies will be hard to find
That’s all coming from an ill-stricken mind, complex by design
But uncovered by pride, so let it be known that I’m sneaky with a loaded tech-nine
Dark and morbid style with a touch of realism that’s from my circle
Blow smoke from that purple, for you none marijuana smokers that’s that herbal
Essence, confessing my worldly fix but that’s a true and serious recelection. Never stressing
Just detecting fake characters who claim they’re real but just need to learn a real lesson
Leah Apr 2013
the snow sticks to the one last pair of jeans you own,
stayed up to watch the sun come up again.

green tea isn't going to save you from the day's advances,
the hours pass like soldiers marching on in sickening waves.
every minute ticking off and disposing another wasted emotion,
I wore my sleeves down to drown me for the first time this year.

and the coffee is to blame,
for the sweat that gathers on the small of my back
sitting here and waiting just a little while longer.

and looking at my smile,
do you see how bad I am at faking it?
we had better make the coffee stronger.

4/1/13
Tell me your darkest secrets;
I promise that I will keep
Whisper me all your unspoken words;
Let me break the silence where your heart silently weep

Surrender me a smile just to know that you're okay;
Even if it means the last time of faking, I am here to stay
Let me into your world, painting colors to your void memories;
And never again feel misery, lets turn your mind into a sanctuary

Deeply breathing together we held hands purifying our soul;
A prayer, we meditate disposing negativity.. A bad aura to let go
A moment of silence, shaking the person once we was;
Let them all troubles crumble, pulverizing sorrow to dust

Expanded consciousness makes us grow stronger and push further;
The path to serenity, a peace of mind where all the letdowns will never be remembered
Yet...Yes it's a scar that always remain, a part of growth and a sign of divine intervention;
We may take wounds but will never fall...Between rise and fall there is always a contradiction

So fall forward to a better man;
Don't give up as much as you can
The least you worries, the least you grow;
What I mean was do something about instead it just undermine the sorrow...
Josh Schrader Aug 2016
Astral counsel hear my prayer
Transmission telepathic
Call out through the leaden vale
Your voice is but myopic

Inherent personal deity
Become my surrogate-conscience
Adopted consanguinity
To satellite responses

Discontented-sum imposed
Indirectly guides me
Though my eyes at times are closed
Congenital third eyes see

Aphantasia; memories unknown
Transfusion of remember
Respect and love, at once, bestowed
Selfish mind surrenders

Disposing character, reserve demise
Share with me my bliss
If ever sight stole from my eyes
11:11 I would miss.
Bradley Mar 2017
When?

When did you start limiting yourself?
Counting calories like they were a poison,
Eating nothing but crumbs
Until your cheekbones stick out like rocks under your pale skin

When did you start disposing yourself?
Purging your meals as if they were toxic waste,
While you ditch your food like an ugly prom date,
Flushing bits of your soul down with last nights meal

When did you start calculating?
Counting calories like you were taking a math test,
Subtracting and subtracting until there’s nothing left but
Your empty stomach and even emptier soul

So,
tell me when,
when did you start counting your ribs instead of your tears?
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2016
i never write poetry for a prize...
i write poetry for the next poem,
as in life... good or bad.*

i'm writing about a suicide,
a top chef kind, chef
benoît violer.... committed suicide,
there were awards, there
where the paparazzi,
but when reading the article
i was sitting at the other dinner table,
i read the article taking a ****,
and i thought: god it feels good,
taking a ****... giving birth to something
so worthwhile disposing off...
god i love taking a ****...
ought i hash-tag that?
these nights when my boss gives me
no thought juggle and knot into writing
i take the easiest route: what's great about my life?
the same **** that everyone does but isn't clued in...
the pleasure of excavating a ****
will hardly match up with archaeology...
but still... taking a ****
does all the *******' funfair injustice
when it's dangling like a slur
before it plops into the stinking pond...
taking a **** never felt better...
it's the little or the belittling that counts...
never write poetry for a trophy or a prize of some sort...
the essence of poetry will die otherwise...
you'll get what you want, sure...
but poetry will turn around and *****-slap you
back into your place when you don't write
for the next poem... i.e. 7 children, 28 grand-children...
or a homophilic chinese uno, with a surrogate mother,
5 poems that make up the helium of an ego
ballooned to excess with others laughing.
Rodney Mendoza May 2014
There once was this girl named Betsy who lived on my block. This ***** was so ugly she looked like a rock. She had two crooked *** ******* and a scar on her thigh. She had a big *** nose and only one eye. She use to mess around with this guy name Drew. And this ******* was ugly too. He wore thick *** glasses and had bad *** breath. He had a body odor that smelled like death. Late one night on November the third. Betsy was in her bathroom disposing of a ****. When there was a knock at her door that only she knew. You guessed it right it was that ugly *** Drew. He had a bag of **** and a bunch of crack. All bundled up in a brown paper sack. When she saw what he had she dropped her draws quick. But when Drew smelled her ***** he got really sick. The room got really funky and flies fell to the floor. He tried to make a run for it,
but he couldn't get to the door. When both of their odors hit the air there was a chemical reaction. The coroner said that both of their noses looked like Michael Jackson's. When Betsy and Drew took that breath it was their very last. The moral of this story is you got to wash your ***. R. Mendoza
Sum It Jan 2014
The horizon deemed to turn black from blue pleaded with its faith by disposing all its secret in orange hue and cry. Aghast by the spectacle, I felt very discomforting breeze trying to peek inside me. Should I let it?
No! i felt involuntary resistance build inside me.The stare of the imploring horizon filled my sentiments with gush of paranoia. I closed my eyes, right then and there. As I opened my eyes slowly after saturation of my daunting breath, I was surrounded by black despair. And the moon still shined with its borrowed light just to display its caged dark hare. There were no stars that day, I  pulled them down to makes uncountable amount of wishes.

What faith decreed for horizon have been my own reflection.
Lastuxedo Sep 2015
I talk to you as I talk to myself
but the words find their way back to me
a friend beyond romance, and drama
the perfect stimulation for mentally
disposing of the clutter in my mind
telling jokes that were never funny
selling secrets that were easy guesses
showing the neater sides to my messes
and as these pathetic burdens lessen
to reveal that I wish I were as much to you
and then you tell me on a rainy afternoon
that I give you peace
which for everything that is the least
I could do.
I think you taught me what love is.
So thank you
I miss you.
~sigh~ My best friend lives so far away.

— The End —