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Julian Jun 2018
The ******* of embezzled glory staunchly defend their counterfeit stature by defalcating the public trust of industrious societies governed internally by compunction and sabotaged externally by the tempests of acerbic fate met with inclement aleatory convergence. To supply a society with ingenuity without being complaisant or officious with unctuous pleas to the overlords we must fashion a new vogue that taps the bustle of giants and aggrandizes the margins to oversee their own creative destinies with scaffolded arrangements of titanic promise and justifiable fluidity to conquer the blinkered dogmatism of a dissolute chastity to inveterate apocryphal tenets of factitious but unmerited perspectives. Democracy crumbles when the convenience of sensationalism supplants the resolve of those that fossick hidden wealth and promulgate validity instead of undergirding pomp with precarious prevarications of duplicitous omission guarded gingerly by the gatekeepers of a ****** sanity that whitewashes the discussion with invented hobgoblins and purblind catharsis. To defeat simplicity and enshrine byzantine elegance as the paragon for voguish commentary rather than abide by a bowdlerized decorum for appeasing simpletons with divisive balkanization through identity politics we can overcome the impediments to human progress that are engineered to persist because of the inertia of the listless and the stubbornness of doctrinaire politicization and invent vivacity and festivity anew. We need to divorce ourselves from pedestrian quibbles of hero-worship that endanger the vitality of the common discourse because of fastidious pedantic disempowerment that ravages us with debased dreams by underscoring nuisances and tolerable nightmares that emasculate the virulence of the liberated individual and subvert his ambitions to contend with a picaresque world of limitless promise and self-motivated internal wealth.
      The bane of modernity is how chary the world becomes because of fractured histories intersecting with controversial destinies and the antidote to that poisonous self-defeating self-censorship is the audacity of brazen challenges to expurgation through assiduous resourcefulness and delicate diplomacy in wrangling controversies with outspoken courage rather than whispered resentment. Temerity waged in inclement circumstance is justified and curiosity stoked by lambent flames of fulgurant individualism should be fortified to the extent necessary to conquer the feckless spoilsports of unctuous puritanism and institutional obedience. The quacksalvers that blather about inconsequence strand the imagination in a desiccated desert that is ostracized from the palettes of the artistic whim to wield efflorescence rather than squander life in pursuit of perfunctory lucre or tenuous solidarity around banal idealism promised by social justice warriors that forget the biggest war being waged on humanity is on the ingenuity of the common discourse and the liberty to opine about real issues rather than saccharine conventions of emasculation through linguistic imprisonment and epicurean slavery to fashimites who relish the buzzword but never the enlightened audience that scoffs at feeble attempts at cultural commentary like Childish Gambino’s “This is America” music video. This particular artifact is a demonstration of how childishly fickle the plebeian mentality really is, stitching together a bricolage of violence to engineer controversy and serenading it with the most banal music imaginable and exhorting people to herald it as a high artform while inundating the world with unimaginative comic book movies and Star Wars rip-offs because of the lucrative business of formulaic replication. “This is America” should be regarded as a parody of itself because of how hackneyed its design is and how cacophonous it sounds and mocks its audience with lowbrow tactics of adding tinsel to trash and marketing it as the glory of tatterdemalions rather than the refinement of true cinematic achievements that have been relegated because Warhol’s Campbells-Soup-consumerism trumps true belletrist in the public view.
        Cultural watersheds punctuate our history with salient achievements in experimentation, but the formulaic profiteering of buzzword sensationalism and yellow journalism and the ostentatious glorification of promiscuous boasting and fancy cars tantalize the mice to continue playing slot machines rather than penning a novel or doing something promethean. The world scoffs at Trump but ignores the bigger institutional caveats that endanger us much more than a pragmatic albeit unconventional pontificator who is complicit in constructing a false narrative to enslave mindless people to fret about eminence rather than delight themselves in the consequential nuances of established refinement that used to serenade the world with flourish and spectacle. The world kowtows to the crusade against flavor-of-the-week enemies of the liberal-conservative syncretism because it has been conditioned to believe that synthesis is the only logical solution for the polarized worldviews of churlish people that become parvenus not on their merits but on their marketable pitfalls and their public foibles. Peccadillos are more important to people than virtues and this makes society morally bankrupt if we loiter around Astroturf causes that have been infiltrated by corporatism and venal debauchery and acquiesce as disempowered gossip hounds that hunt in packs to find jest in aberration rather than achievement in self-created narratives that defy the stupid purblind boorishness of the mainstream media and its haughty liberalism or the persnickety condemnation of priggish conservative moralities that had an expiration date 50 years ago. Who the **** cares about transgender-touting-gender-fluidity quidnuncs and the snooty obsession with lurid personal endeavors of reputable people that made minor ****** transgressions in a world policed by wide-eyed feminazis that seek to ransack men of their vital virulence to spotlight their unjustifiable oppression. Women are oppressed but the carnal nature of their calumniation and their vindictive powers of persuasion are deployed with such vehement vigilance and such distaste for the majority that the world relegates itself to quibbles of celebrities rather than substantive issues. There is a systemic feminization of society occurring that seeks to demarcate despotic uxorious pleasantries as an incarceration of vocal dissent against supercilious women and their tamed men that slavishly grovel in repudiation of anything prickly.  Men historically have oppressed women but the solution to this quandary isn’t a reverse discrimination where the minority concern is spotlighted as a majoritarian issue that overshadows the disproportionate nature of our society where nominal accreditation is afforded in a non-meritocratic way to absolve people of their carnality and demote the vigorous defense of human liberty as secondary to compromise solutions that appease more people than they offend but simultaneously result in suboptimal conditions that reward arbitrarily coachable people while jettisoning anyone witty enough to be capable of insubordination of a hedonistic epicurean world obsessed with appearance and ravaged by the decadence of formulaic profiteering at the expense of originality and true promethean art that is herculean enough to defy hackneyed tropes and siphon the best elements from a piecemeal world variegated with complexity but stifled by fomented hatred.
The solutions to these problems is to create a watchdog group of artistic critics who become eminent and ubiquitously heard enough to offer creative consultation to the artistic endeavors that we consume and the music that is curated for fastidious ears that crave euphonic originality rather than the banality of easily dovetailed bass-heavy cookie-cutter garbage and the gaudy tactics of talentless rappers whose swagger derives from  the intersection of opportunism and the divestiture of an industry that rewards gloated supercilious epicureanism and meretricious marketability. Am I the only one jaded by second-rate superhero movies that infest the cinemas that borrow from Michael Bay while thrusting pulse-pounding but narratively bankrupt movies down the throats of consumers that might prize the cinematic originality of the heyday of filmmaking? Is it always high art to invent controversy that is witless or half-witted just because it will create buzz? Shouldn’t we condemn the laziness of society in acquiescing to the penury of the modern cultural narrative which belabors the dead horses of racism and sexism ad nauseum? Shouldn’t we fight the war of against inequity through legislation rather than hibernating about scandalous eminence and testy malfeasance?
          Liberty should be championed above all else and we are turning our backs on the future unless we muster the resolve to diminish the sway of the common narrative and aim our spotlight at consequential endeavors rather than the tropes of prosaic and pedestrian bastardization of art and culture. We need to fight artistic laziness which has ravaged our culture and castigate the tactics of wannabee celebrities that use lurid tactics to attract an audience by bedizening themselves with Pyrrhic ostentations and rampant fakery to create more melodrama in a world that needs to be less histrionic. YouTube celebrities swarm us as they get high on ******* and lean-- at our expense-- and vandalize property and convincing nine-year-old’s like Lil Tay to flex her money like it is infinitely renewable in a finite world where all our attention is wasted on artless artifice of less talented people that know how to engineer a ruckus by strutting themselves beyond all decency and selling out to a corporatist nightmare of enslaved convenience. We need to be more vocal about the dissolution of artistic merit and the formulaic repetition of successful formulas that jade us and make us yawn about another retread of a previously successful idea that is milked to the point of cruelty.                                                         ­                       
       Let’s change the narrative and focus on creating true art rather than reacting to the meretricious tinsel of the vogue consensus which is so impotent in its ability to rivet audiences because it has become so notoriously lazy. Fight laziness in art, dismiss your news feeds, be resourceful, seek true happiness rather than find yourself hoodwinked and duped by the idea that Trump is the most important issue or getting caught in thought loops and brooding about sexism and inequality. Let us strive to be egalitarian but within limits that would also appease hominists rather than just the hypertrophy of the leftist narrative that seeks to cage us with the doublespeak of complaisant conformity.  Reject the unctuous charlatans that pretend priggishness when their banausic purpose is barbaric but beguiling to be a lullaby for laggards. We need to fight for the future of civilization rather than hobnob with convenience and loiter around decrying false perpetrators rather than systemic injustices that could otherwise be rectified if enough people fought for it. We can invent a future that is a great festivity serenaded by cultivated artistic refinement and forget about the trifles that divide us. United in ambition and fueled by ingenuity we can defeat artistic laziness and be resourceful with how we decide what is newsworthy. Spurred by the argosy of proactive motivation we can change the world in a substantial way by deciphering the subtext that governs the world. The subtext is everything!
Caterra Jackson Nov 2018
Jealousy is sneaky.
It makes you believe that
you’re not really pretty.
It plays tricks with your mind,
It makes you relate only
with negativity all the time.
Jealousy is fake.
It makes you mistake dullness with greatness.
It leans more on back biting and shade.
Jealousy is dangerous.
Even though you’re Fabulous,
It makes you feel uptight about your lack of confidence.
It makes you feel useless,
It keeps you in malice and offense.
Jealousy lives to compete.
In order to control mind games and accept defeat,
To keep your jealousy on duplicitous repeat.
scribler Dec 2013
By the the time you have thought or spelled or understood duplicitous, they have been.
st64 Jun 2013
So. You like me as your pastime?
Hmm, please take another look
And see there's a person attached to it
With a full life and dreams, fool!

Being such the ardent lover of liver
She alit the bus and sat square across a damsel
Carrying happy burden; spontaneous loss
And on this day, witness to the leaking full......

Teeming thoughts rage on inside
Sees a man spitting ceaseless into a mug
Spitting, spitting, spitting...!!
Now a china teacup .... is all she'll have.

Frustration climbs the walls like spiders
Leave behind dangling webs of duplicitous ire
Spray its viscous poison everywhere
A smack, an outburst; ugly scene.

Hard to see where it ends, where it starts
Tumultuous energy always kept in check
Surreptitious trafficking in serendipity
Split desires sport with silken threads.

Embracing pain which dominates so
Heartache elemental dogs every move
See you leave, go off alone
Hide high grievance, suffocate.

Seems this loveware needs reconfiguring
Sittin' pretty, like a duck in the water
Ain't the way; keeps the target on yer back
Life's sometimes quite the storm..... in a Chinese teacup!


S T, 03 June 2013
Fancy some java?

:)

My fave is Earl Grey, then camomile, green ....

Tea is a great (meditative) companion, not so.
Cedric McClester Aug 2018
By: Cedric McClester

You lying ***,
You so and so,
You didn’t know,
That she would go?
As if the general
Didn’t tell you though,
You’re claiming ignorance
And putting on a show

You lying ***,
You so and so
Keep it up
And your nose will grow
Just like the puppet
Pinocchio
You’re trying to reach
A new plateau

You lying ***,
You so and so,
You paint a picture
But you’re no Van Gogh
You’re gonna fall
Like a domino
See you belong
In a minstrel show

You lying ***,
You so and so,
You hired her
Don’t cha think
We know?
That you’re duplicitous
As world leaders know, yo
Like Canada's Justin Trudeau




Cedric McClester,  Copyright © 2018.  All rights reserved.
Shea Vogt Mar 2012
A whisper is a word spoken softly. A thought is an idea screamed softly.
But while I may not have the words to speak to make my thoughts known,
I can't imagine I'll be looked down upon for this empathetic dream so lofty:
Speak a name with warmth, say a name and smile, love is freed and flown.

I can't always get the rhythm right and I'm not always the sacrificial soul,
I don't always eradicate my ego and I certainly can't say I haven't lied.
But I promise that I'm the genuine, the true, antithetically duplicitous role,
Even if you can't see it, even if you won't feel it--compassion is implied.

So, don't think you don't inspire someone in the world--you do.
Sure, you made mistakes in the past, but all your heroes did too.
pilgrims Sep 2022
When I say "bet"
life begins. I wager sweat and limbs.
The thrill is angelic hymns.
Limitless~

Until a hit is missed.
Why
do I fear
love is duplicitous
?

Courage
Will
Form
energy from unfolding mystery.
Cradling a chalice of compassion
with gentle filigree
my hands hold perfectly.
Feeling trust, I sip then pour peacefully.

Worth is free.
Ensnared in
the crystallization
   of  web's
intimidating deception,
superficial spider
met its
duplicitous match,
whence the improvised
contortionist morphed
         forth from its chrysalis,
              spun midst grandeur
               in triumphant
                            survival of flight's
                                       sheer inception
Dr O Jan 2014
I speak the language of the ambiguous man
Two false tunnels leading to the paradise once existent
Suffocating in the soul the heart pumps mysterious labyrinths
Intricate twists, lively turns, dead ends, corrupt memories
All leading to the same two doors
Handles made from cherry blossom to conceal ****** wrists
Misleading as barren rock behind the sodden waterfall
And deceitful as the smiles of killers pending demise

I like to fool the world with my duplicitous decisons
Peeping through one door just to go through the other
There lay two paths divided in a somber world
The ambiguity of man prevails
Only when a single door leads to the innocent simplicity
But the truth about lies prevail
When the man not knows what he does
And navigates through his own mindful solitude

I intrude in a broken world filled with people most pernicious
Some call them deceivers while some call them philosophers
Depends on how they see the truth of ambiguity
Two parallel bridges to cross a sea most demoniac
While only one bridge armed with the truthful support
But the world feels much too simple without rails to grasp
As there is nothing to hinder the peaceful descent
Smoothly into that paradise once existent

I'd fairly not speak about the truthful man
But rather the lying hero
For he has more knowledge with the concept of ambiguity
But whom does the stray bullet in the revolver take?
The truthful man or the lying hero?
If the truthful man chooses not the rails out of pride
And the lying hero slashes his wrists out of regret
At first I settle with those who favor the liar
But if I had two bullets
I would see that the pride would also suffice
As the ambiguous man shall die twice
For ambiguity is anything but simplicity
Inspirations: The Road Not Taken and Fire and Ice by Robert Frost

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/simplicity-64/
Cedric McClester Jul 2018
By: Cedric McClester

You know he’s full of stuff
When the evidence ain’t enough
And he’s acting like a cream puff
By not calling Putin’s bluff
If I labeled him a scaredy-cat
Or better yet Putin’s new doormat
Would that raise the thermostat,
And flush out that Norway rat?

When the evidence is irrefutable
To the point that it’s not disputable
His response is always mutable
And comes out as most unsuitable
Then his mouthpiece attempts to frame
An alibi, but we’re hip to her game
She can’t absolve him of the blame
Though she tries to just the same

So you better believe and trust
That she looks ridiculous
When she’s being duplicitous
By trying to fool the rest of us
It’s a sin to stand there and lie
But she gives it a college try
Like the mistress of deny
As if the Ten Commandment don’t apply

They interfered with our election
With a clear cut interjection
Of cybernet deflection
Without protest or objection
Two days before his inauguration
He was told of the Russian’s participation
Much to his own consternation
Yet he still voices reservations





Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018.  All rights reserved.
Mark Lecuona Mar 2012
We The People
Sailed the same course
Some willingly
Some by force
We The People
A document to inform
A more perfect Union
To weather any storm
No more kings
No more oppression
No taxation
Without representation
Checks and balances
And the rule of law
Mitigating injustices
Safe harbor for all
The secular trinty
President, Congress, Court
Not one above the other
Veto, fiat, tort
Our common interest
Of defense
With liberty
And justice
Our common tranquility
And general welfare
A union
With resources to share
American rights
And protection
From a despotic government
Or an insurrection
Free to worship my God
Or your God
Freedom to find God
Or deny any God
Open discourse
Speaking my mind
And yours
However unkind
Collective grievances
Peaceably petitioned
We walk together
But never threatened
To bear arms
For our security
Never being forced
To quarter unwillfully
To remain secure
In our sanctuary
Unless presented
With writ of entry
Neither held
Absent habeas corpus
Or loss of property
Unless agreed by us
Or forced to testify
To contradict our own denials
Or brought forward
In duplicitous trials
To face our accuser
In much haste
Represented by counsel
Our peers decide our fate
Not one but twelve
Examining the facts
Brought forward
But only this court acts
Reasonable recompense
For fine or bail
Cruel or unusual retribution
Shall not avail
An enumeration
Merely provides illumination
But within the penumbra
Reveals more freedom
That is self-evident
No list or count
Exists to encumber
Or restriction to surmount
A union has formed
But sacred remains the individual
The tyranny of the majority
Is not permissible
A living breathing document?
Or static words unbending?
Even as we amend
Change never ending
Open to interpretation
If you see a right
But others may disagree
There may be a fight
The spirit of intent
Is there to see
Freedom to choose
Secured by liberty
We The People
A sacred quest
We The People
No more no less
An abridged version with rhyme.....
K Balachandran Oct 2015
That girl doesn't inspire me a bit, let me guilelessly confess,
the one that sits right there,diametrically opposite to my roving eyes,
in her cozy corner, shielded from the view of most  others,
filling the seat exactly with her perfect curvaceousness,
she has false promises written all over her many allurements
for me (who else) bored to death, at this blighted moment,
triggered by scrolling account statements when all I love to see
are words, dainty pulchritudinous words, I can munch always.


In spite of my valiant efforts,to make do with what is at hand
and appreciate the poetic bit, her body language whispers,
as my existential compulsion demands, I couldn't move any further.

I do my best, try to caress her gently with my brooding  eyes,
trying hard not to look duplicitous, but my eyes, curtained off
with boredom and drooping, easily lose focus, seeing this,
her eyes pop out,yet my arrows that lost verve hit sometimes!

Now, with enthusiasm renewed,she gives it a try,but repeatedly fail,
every shot she returns is a  blank, such a cruel curse of cupid!
She is an impostor, tamed sheep cross dressed as a wanton she wolf,
the easy chemical repulsion, lectures  to me on the alchemy of affinity,
but how can I complain, it's not a clause  in her letter of appointment.
Office romance fails to take off, in spite of every attempt to bolster up
Its 8:30 in the AM
The Corn Moon
is being routed by a
Manassas cloud bank

NPR be barking
Irma this, Irma that
my tremblin Rav4
stuck in the rush
is idling behind
a pair of gray hairs
spewing
leaded premium
out the back
of a big old black Buick
sportin Florida tags

inching north up I95
I’m relieved to be
a thousand miles
ahead of the
monstrous *****
denuding Barbuda
deflowering the
****** Islands
and threatening to topple
the last vestiges of
Castro’s Dynasty
by disrupting upscale
bourgeois markets
for cafe Cubanos,
cool Cohibas and
bold Bolivars

she’s a CAT 5
counterclockwise
spinning catastrophe
churning through
the Florida straits
bending steel framed
Golden Arches
shaking the tiki shacks
gobbling lives
defiling tropical dreams

the best
meteorological minds
on the Weather Channel
plug the Euro model
to plot a choreography
of Irma’s cyclonic sashay

they predict she’ll
strut her stuff
up a runway  
that perfectly
dissects the  
Sunshine State
ransacking
the topography
venting carnage
like battalions of
badly behaved frat boys,
schools of guys gone wild
sophomores, wreaking havoc
during a Daytona Beach
spring break
droolin over *******
popping woodies at
wet tee shirt contests
urinating on doorstoops
puking into Igloo Coolers
and breaking their necks
from ill advised
second floor leaps
into the shallow end
of Motel 6 pools

but I’m rolling north
into the secure
arms of a benign
Mid Atlantic Summer
like other refugees,
my trunk is
filled with baggage
of fear and worry
wondering
if there’re be anything
left to return to
once Irma
has spent herself
with one last
furious ****
against the
Chattanooga Bluffs of
Lookout Mountain

Morning Edition
Is yodeling a common
seasonal refrain
the gubmint is
just about outta cash
congress needs to
increase the debt limit

My oh my,
has the worm turned
during the Obama years
the GOP put us through a
Teabag inspired nightmare
gubmint shutdowns
and sequestration
shaved 15 points
off every war profiteers vig
it gave a well earned
long overdue
take the rest of the week off
unpaid vacation
to non essential
gubmint workers
while a cadre of
wheelchair bound
Greatest Generation
military vets get
locked out of the
WWII Memorial on the
National Mall

this time around
its different
we have an Orange Hair
in the office and there's
some hyper sensitivity
to raise the debt ceiling
given that Harvey
has yet to fully
drain from the
Houston bayous

the colossal cleanup
from that thrice in a
Millennial lifetime storm
has garnered bipartisan support
to  clean up the wreckage
left behind by a
badly behaved
one star BnB lodger
who took a week
long leak into the
delicate bayous of
Southeast Texas

yet we are infused
with optimism that our
Caucasian president
and his GOP grovelers
now mustered
to the Oval Office
will slow tango
with the flummoxed
no answer Dems
to get the job done

pigs do fly in DC
Ryan and McConnell
double date with
Pelosi and Schumer
get to heavy pettin
from front row seats
beholding droll  
Celebrity Apprentice
reruns

The Donald, Nancy and Chuck
slip the room for a little
menage au trois side action
transforming Mitch and Paul
into vacillating voyeurs
who start jerking their dongs
while POTUS, and his
new found friends
get busy workin
the art of a deal

rush hour peaks
static traffic grows
in concert with
a swelling  
frenetic angst
driving drivers
to madness
terrified
they won't
get paid if
the debt ceiling
don't rise
they honk horns
rev engines
thumb iPhones
and sing out
primal screams

unmindful drivers
piloting Little Hondas
bump cheap Beamers
start a game of
bumper cars
dartin in and out
of temporary gaps
uncovered by the
spastic fits and starts
of temporary
decongested
ebbs and flows

A $12 EZ Pass
gambit is offered
the fast lane
on ramp
has few takers
just another
pick your pocket
gubmint scheme
two express lanes
lie vacant
while three lanes of
non premium roadway
boast bumper to bumper
inertness
wasted fuel
declining productivity
skyrockets
the  wisdom of
the invisible hand doesn't
seem to be working

DOJ bureaucrats
In Camrys and Focuses
dial the office
to let somebody
know they’ll
be tardy

gubmint contractors in
silver Mercedes begin
jubilantly honking horns
NPR has just announced that
Pelosi and Schumer
joined the Orange team
the rise in the debt ceiling
will nullify their 15%
sequestration pay cut

NPR reports the
National Cathedral will
deconsecrate two hallowed
stained glass windows of
rebel generals R E Lee
and Stonewall Jackson
it's a terrible shame that
the Episcopal Church
will turn its back on the
rich Dixie WASPS
who commissioned these
installations to commemorate
the church's complicity
in sanctifying the
institution of slavery,
WWJD?

as I ponder
this Anglican
conundrum another
object arrests my
streaming consciousness
upsetting an attention span
shorter and less deep
than the patch of oil  
disappearing under the front
of the RAV as I thunder by
at 5 MPH

to the left I eye a
funny looking building
standing at attention
next to a Bob Evans

I’m convinced
Its gotta be CIA
a 15 story
gubmint minaret
a listening post
wired to intercept
mobile digital
confabulations
from crawling traffic
inching along
beneath its feet

this thinking node
pulsing with
intelligence
reeking with
counterintelligence
the tautological
contradiction
guarantees the
stasis of our
confused
national consciousness

strategically positioned to
tune into the
intractable Zeitgeist
culling meta code
planting data points
In Big Data
data farms
running algos
to discern bits
of intelligence
endeavoring to reveal
future shock trends
knows nothing
reveals less

the buildings cover
is its acute
conspicuousness
gray steel frame
silver tinted glass
multiple wireless antennas
black rimmed windows
boldly proclaim
any data entering
this cheerless edifice
must abandon all hope
of ever being framed
in a non duplicitous
non self serving sentence

the gray obelisk a
national security citidel
refracts the
fear and loathing
the sprawling
global anxiety
our civilization's
discontent
playing out
in the captive
soft parade
ambling along
the freeway jam
imobilized
at its stoop

Moning Edition jingle
follows urgent report of
FEMA scamblin assets
arbitraging Harvey and Irma
triaging two
tropical storm tragedies
and a third girl
just named Maria
pushed off the Canaries
and is on its way to a
Puerto Rico
homecoming

while
gubmint  bureaucrats
anxiously push on
to their soulless offices
the rush hour jam
has peaked
my WAZE
is having a
nervous breakdown

next lane over
a guy in a gold PT Cruiser
is banging on his steering wheel
don’t think this unessential worker
will win September's
civil servant of the month award

Ex Military
K Street defectors
slamming big civie
Hummers
getting six mpg
lobby for a larger
apportionment
of mercenary dollars
for Blackwater's
global war on terror

Prius Hybrids
silently roll on
politely driven by
EPA Hangers On
hoping to save
a bit of the planet
from an Agency Director
intent on the agency's
deconstruction
the third 500 year hurricane
of the season
is of no consequence

obsolete
GMC Jimmy’s
are manned by
Steve Mnunchin
wannabes
the frugal
treasury dept
ledger keepers
pour good money after bad
to keep the national debt
and there clanking
jalopies working

driving Malibus
DOL stalwarts
stickin with the Union
give biz to GMC

nice lookin chicks
young coed interns
with big daddy doners
fix their faces and
come to work
whenever they want

my *** is killing me
I squirm in my seat
to relieve my aching sacroiliac
and begin to wonder if my name
will appear on some
computer printout today?
can’t afford an IRS audit
maybe my house will
be claimed by some
eminent domaine landgrab?
Perhaps NSA
may come calling,
why did I sign that
Save The Whales
Facebook Petition?

The EZ Pass lane
is movin real easy
mocking the gridlock
that goes all the way
to Baltimore
a bifurcated Amerika
is an exhaust spewing
standing condemnation
to small “R”
republicanism  

glint from windshields
is blinding
my **** is hurtin and
gettin back to Jersey
gunna take a while
GPS recalcs arrival time

an intrepid Lyft driver
feints and dodges
into the traffic gaps
drivin the shoulder
urging his way to the
Ronnie Reagan International
I'm sure
gettin heat from
a backseat fare
that shoulda pinged
an hour earlier

Irma creeps
toward the Florida Keys
faster then the
glacial jam
befuddling congress

I think I just spotted
Teabag Patriot
Grover Norquist
manning a rampart
bestriding a highway overpass
he’s got a clipboard in hand
checking the boxes
counting cars
taking names
who’s late?
who’s unessential?

man
whatta jam we're in

Music Selection:
Jeff Beck: Freeway Jam

Orlando
9/21/17
jbm
written as im stuck in jam headin back to jersey
Sand Aug 2013
72 ways to tell if your crush likes you
Always sent me in the worst preteen spirals
Because I wasn’t exactly sure how to casually check to see
If his pupils would dilate during our conversations
And, after a few seconds of my intense evaluation, he’d stop
And ask if he had food stuck in his teeth
And, if so, then I should be a pal and tell him
Because he wanted to impress
My best friend when she walked into the room.

That summer you two held an-end-of-the-year bonfire,
Where everyone brought their troubled old exams,
Bradburying their barely year old textbooks,
While toasting marshmallow s’mores atop the education protest.

My contribution was something more of a retribution,
Because I brought the poppiest, peppiest, most duplicitous,
Beauty magazine I owned
      [It made me feel ugly and unwanted,
       Judged me by my choice in mascara,
       And set me up for heartbreak all too young].
As I watched it catch fire and morph into molten,
I couldn’t help and laugh,
Relief flooded through my veins when I saw that,
Even when the deemed beautiful is destroyed,
It crumbled down to the same unidentifiable inked gray,
Earth to earth,
Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust.
Onoma Aug 2018
i'm tracing your sensitivity,

your secrecy with my finger...

the folds of a flower that continually

spread new color.

your duplicitous flare.

the buzzing ghosts of bees,

dying mid-nectar.

your super intelligent eyes

following my mind till i lose it...

only to grow another one.

deeper than your walls, deeper

than your layers...to the chamber

of your repose.

burning sandalwood and a flood

of moon, settling down on

your bed.

as with the weight of strong hands

slowly working their way toward you.

you're choking back the tears, you feel

fully exposed.

you can't and won't gather yourself

for the oncoming ecstasy.
*This Empty Flow: "Useless" on replay.
Derek Yohn Oct 2013
Time does not move when watched.
It slinks through the shadows,
preying on our distracted minds,
a subtle movement at the eye's corner.
It is deceitful. Duplicitous.
Dim.
Attached to our hips; Pan's shadow;
unthinking and cruel;
a quantum paradox of certainty,
linked to a count running
silently, sub-consciously.

Assuming, of course, you can count.
Martin Bailes Mar 2017
Sure as heck wouldn't fall
for that "Oh its my favourite
book & I keep it by my bedside
trick" & gather chubby Christian
flunkeys to pray over & anoint
a fascist idiot child,

Would see right through using
a grieving widow as a prop for
a photo-shoot extravaganza,
& then talk of record applause
lines like this was America's
Most Talented & he was a cheap
*** promoter milking the crowd,

Wouldn't for a second fall for
the Syrian children carry an
infection to the nation & must
be denied entry because you
never know but of course we can
because deranged white folks are
more of a threat,

Sure as **** could tell the difference
between a good apostle & that
scheming White Supremacist
Bannon & the bald dude who
endlessly talks of his overlord
being obeyed or **** sure you'll
all be for it,

Would most definitely not need
a golden crapper to rest his fat
white *** on & a golden stroller
for his special one & lacquered
mirrored sitting room that looks
like a hillbilly wet-dream version of
of 'how rich folks dun live rightly,'

Would most definitely not be seen
wearing that stupid red hat which
more than hints at a long gone
world with shades of whiteness
& exclusion & don't come knocking
on my door you pitiful wretch you,

Would never in a million friggin'
years have voted Republican &
sided with a lying, duplicitous
con-man with all the shades of
darkness that usually are reserved
for the actual Fallen Angels.
Danielle Rose Jan 2014
Significance decreased as your speech began to reek
with pretentious hypocrisy revealing conspicuous shortcomings
Importunately making conclusions based upon illusions
Spouting lines to save but delirium is all you gave
As if I were seeking your confirmation, salvation, or blessings
I would've asked your opinion if I valued your progression and prosperities
or wondered into a church if I sought duplicitous appease
This unrequited love you deal is meretricious and full of disease
You sell a lie until it's spent then devour what is left of one's esteem
You depend on the humiliation and degradation of another
to accommodate the hostilities you experience from others
Passing off insurmountable grief to save yourself from your own realities
I hope one day you find peace and revelation
Before someone else is enraptured by your false persona falling victim to your belittlement and fluctuations
Emily B Jun 2010
The flooding puddles of your eyes
reflect nothing but the skies and
trees with leaves as dead as skin
on elbows in winter.

Your two-toned heart won't separate
the simple verbs to conjugate from be
to am to are to is--
the peeling of our action.
I'll wait for sunlight, blue skies, and stars
I can wait for spring!
Wait for your words to mean what a dictionary describes.

Grey does nothing for your eyes.
They still twinkle with delight
soggy grass and slippery walks
like soggy emotions in your slippery thoughts.
You're winter now.
I'm spring.
You're dead--I'm thriving.
your plea for surviving, what hope!
What loss! What cost!

God shouldn't have trusted you with that smile.
Your rat-like grim untrustworthy guile.
That duplicitous manner in which you speak
Oh how you out shine your ***!

Your failed promises,
attempts to leave me.
to please me.
Oh! How you leave me pleased!

Your tokens broken, torn and stored
In wires above my bed
slip visions of you in my dreams.
A morning sight, such sweet delightful
beginnings to long dragging days.

Even through your thunder storm
Your vexation brings me joy.
Michael John Jun 17
i

pleasantly duplicitous
-that is an oxymoron
eg-i ate the last of the

pizza because- the word
goes on and on-
there is no redemption

not in modern life
(or like barley sways
in the temperate winds..)

how is one to survive?
with-out the cunning
of a gentle high?

-the stomach sated
-the nerve held
to lie and be honest

and be nice..
and yet duplicitous
say this

mean that
mean that say this
you wish..


ii

you were a sea-horse
so does everybody
get over it..
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
Demagogues of our society; daftly delivering
disarming delusions of decrepit delights.
Dealing in powder, rock and liquid death,
demurely doled out in droves to the
willing unconscious, dysfunctional deviants
of the land.

Blindly offering devotions, flaccid devotions
to plastic, white collar deities; giving new
definition to internal deformity, through
decelerated dejection.

Desperate and emotionally dismembered,
defrauded by quick, cheap decadence,
debauchery, and mental decay in many
deliriously delicious forms...pick a flavor,
name your poison!

Delegate your defect, as those with
doctoral degrees in defunct traditions
do deviously delineate their demented
designs...for our future.

DejaVu?
Perhaps, but in fact, it is we
who sniff, inject and drink up their drivel,
decidedly and dutifully depleted of
intellect by way of dubious data.

Duplicitous dullards...sanitize and
deodorize their fiendish lies...as we,
WE do nothing!

Not enough of us dumbfounded or
dumbstruck by their deceitful smiles.
Full of dread and deep dismay, by
the statutes of the day...I, for one,
will dream of better days, when we
shall defeat these diabolical demons.

But for now, down beaten, downtrodden;
we will continue to be denigrated for
the duration.
Clever dissection; dumb as they want you
to be,
disparity of all creativity...individuality...
and all of your rights...controversially.
Our disgruntled displeasure doomed...to
fall on dormant hearts...and we,
debilitated and daunted, lives dismantled,
are now forever haunted, by our freedoms
demise...by days we could question
their smiling lies.

Demagogues; Big Brother...such delinquents
dosing up the masses with a deluge of powder,
rock sedation and liquid elation...pick your flavor,
name your poison.

At the end of the day WE are ONE...duped,
defaced, defeated...and to continue on this
road, our final denouement will come
disturbingly disguised...as DEATH!



-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Inspired by a movie I once saw.
Justin Ball Feb 2012
Downward spiral**
In rejected denial
Put on a duplicitous smile
(the camouflage of conspiracy)
Ruminate on whether or not
This is some preconceived fallacy.
Realize why all those
Feelings have been encapsulated.
Congratulations
Assimilation into the crowd
Has been instituted.
Fed by lyrical persuasion,
The line points down
On this linear equation.
Cunning Linguist Sep 2013
I. Incumbent incubus;
An evil man sees the light
So he seizes the light
Zealously endeavoring
to extinguish its fervor

II. Duplicitous snake;
Trembling, the ground gives way
All the while shadows in his mind
Animate a reflection of life
All embracing, smothering him
Enveloped like a butterfly in his chrysalis

III. Beguiling wolf;*
Frantically he seizures
Oh, unbeliever*
With magnificent gusto,
Manifests the Inferno
Ubiquitously irradiating
To both cleanse,
and drive the shadows hiding
just beyond sight
Once more into the infernal abyss
jeffrey robin Sep 2013
Subtle the presented lie
The remnants of truth
Artfully buried

We
Are eagerly anticipating
An escape route to appear

Freeing us (again)
From any actual responsibility

-----

Oh my Love what have we done?

----

What are we now in our bitter Lonliness?

--------
•••
--------
We  know

Even in the high school corridors
(Our  infantile thinking processeses)

That we have become
Cheap
False
Duplicitous
Afraid

To stand up
To stand our ground
Against real and not merely imaginary
Enemies

To protect
Real and not merely imaginary loves and lovers
And love's creation
( the children of the world)
-
-•-
-
I SEE YOU!

YOU SEE ME!

-----

True nakedness

-----

Midst the corpse embraces of alienated youth
Who make love to their slit wrists and the memory
Of meaningless kisses
And empty words meant only to hurt and enslave

••••


Bombs are falling from every orifice
Of body
Mind
&
Sky

••••

The drug of choice

-------

If you'd be real then you must really be
What you are
As intended
From any beginning that you percieve
As the moment of creation

---

In truth

It is only we
Who are known
For fierce fire and loyalty

To the Power of our
Perfect Form

Our undying gratitude fore mere existence

And the grace of love and its possibilities
Who dare shape the days ahead
Into a viable home for a Tomorrow
That may nurture and give shape
To the intended heaven-to-be-here
Haven for the dreamy eyes of our blessed children

THIS is the responsibility we may take
And not avoid as we have done before
If we'd in truth become as human

Become as gentle creatures who
Are no more afraid of death than afraid of truth
Who only live to be here with all

You with me
I with you

In the embrace of the sacredness
The sacred words
The sacred breath
EpiPen Sep 2019
Twin flames burning brighter
Darkness fades away
Flames grow higher
Flickering flames
And strong desire
To merge together
A greater power
Shining light
Into the darkest corners
Illuminate
Outlines and angles
Burning wicks melting candles
Half the room was darker with out you
I held the light on my side
Waiting for your beam of light
To shine just as bright
And light the whole room with me
Listening to “The Chieftains” again,
Their Long Black Veil CD: a gift to
Marijuana smokers. N'est-ce pas?
**** Jagger singing the title track,
A sweet, lugubrious ode to black widows.
Could there be such creatures?
Women you would **** for,
Offing your best friend for?
She had better be as good as it gets.
Could such women exist?
Beautiful & toxic;
Duplicitous, cunning,
*******-worthy.

******* | *** Risk and Prevention | ***/AIDS | CDC
https://www.cdc.gov/***/risk/oralsex.html has a low *** risk, but it is not zero. Learn ... Involves using the mouth to stimulate the ****** (*******). (www.ads/right/in/the/middle/of/*******/poem.com) $$Ka-Ching! Ka-Ching$$

**** would have licked her **** as
They led him up the scaffold steps,
She was a woman worth dying for, to be sure.

And Sinéad Marie Bernadette O'Connor?
Isn’t it time we forgave her?
So she shaved her head.
So she shredded the Pope’s photo on SNL.
He was, after all, the Polish Pope,
The one that kissed the ground
Whenever he got off an airplane.
How could you not love the guy?
Shot while riding in his Pope Mobile,
He later visited Mehmet Ali Ağca in prison,
Forgiving his would-be assassin face-to-face,
Exonerating the Bulgarian kreplach, for all
Special Victims Unit “especially heinous offenses” &
Proto-Islamic terror.
Surely, he could forgive the little Irish ****?

Can’t we? Leading by example?
I don’t know what you’d call it.
In any language: powerful.
Oh, Sinead, my sweet Sinead,
We miss your sweet sad dulcet tones.
Consider yourself exonerated.
Consider yourself free to be loved again.

And let’s not forget Tom Jones,
Come on ladies: you threw your sopping
Wet ******* to the stage for him.
His “Tennessee Waltz” breaking my heart,
Losing my wife to my best friend.
No wonder I shot the Sheriff.
Surprised I did not also shoot the Deputy.
And “The Chieftains” themselves,
Transporting us to the Coast of Malabar.
We are all Irish sailors
Infatuated, hopelessly enchanted by a
Swarthy Dravidian shiksa.
Bonnie Hunter Feb 2012
Your love is black ice
Unctuous, greedy, slippery, treacherous
Seductive, alluring
The duplicitous song of the siren.

You are as the ancient oak
Whose once vital branches have withered
Into gnarled, beckoning husks
Ever reaching, never grasping.

And still I hunger.
To my shame I yearn.
I eat your dirt with the impetuousness of the dying.
And with trembling hands wipe away the maggots.

More the fool am I
For allowing the shadows to lengthen
Awaiting the day your siren song
Delivers its unspoken promise.

Ever listening for the soughing wind
To blow through your wizened leaves
To shimmy up your sturdy trunk
And carry you back to me.

But your branches are black with decay. Desiccated from neglect.
And my ears have forgotten how to hear your voice.
Accompanied only by the echoes of a dream
That has long since faded.
Mark Lecuona Jul 2015
We The People
Sailed the same course
Some willingly
Some by force
We The People
A document to inform
A more perfect Union
No matter the storm
No more kings
No more oppression
No more taxation
Without representation
Checks and balances
And the rule of law
Mitigating injustices
Safe harbor for all
The secular trinty
President, Congress, Court
Not one above the other
Veto, fiat, tort
Our common interest
Our common defense
Our common liberty
Our common justice
The domestic tranquility
And the general welfare
The pursuit of happiness
And the resources we share
Civil rights
And our protection
From a despotic government
Or an insurrection
Free to worship my God
Or your God
Freedom to find God
Or deny any God
Open discourse
Speaking your mind
You have an opinion
However unkind
Collective grievances
Peaceably petitioned
We walk together
But never threatened
To bear arms
For our security
Or being forced
To quarter unwillfully
To remain secure
In our sanctuary
Unless presented
With writ of entry
Neither held
Absent habeas corpus
Or loss of property
Unless agreed by us
Never forced to testify
To contradict our denials
Or brought forward
In duplicitous trials
To face our accuser
In much haste
Represented by counsel
Our peers decide our fate
Not one but twelve
Examining the facts
We are brought forward
But only this court acts
Reasonable recompense
For fine or bail
Cruel or unusual retribution
Shall not avail
The enumeration
Provides illumination
But within the penumbra
Shadows suggest freedom
What is self-evident
Requires no list or count
Nothing to encumber
Or restriction to surmount
A union has formed
But sacred remains the individual
The tyranny of the majority
Is never permissible
A living breathing document?
Or construction unbending?
But as we amend
Change is never ending
Open to interpretation
If you see a right
Others may disagree
Who can see the light?
The spirit of intent
For all to see
Freedom to choose
Secured by liberty
We The People
A sacred quest
We The People
No more no less
Happy 4th of July everyone!
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2014
taking in early October
Vitamin D naturally,^
another too-oft-writ pretense that
Queen Summer yet smiles upon this
erstwhile, part-time,
nerve bundled human...

though facts contradict,
in summer uniform
he still emerges to bay and chair,
his confessional, his holy temple,
his Houdini escape chamber,
though the temperature
will not top 60 Farenheit

duplicitous as long as I can,
in this simple and so many other
lifetime items far-less-than-trivial,
incapable of obeying my brain's map
orders to cease and desist,
(or dress appropriately at least,)
to see the entirety of oneself
in the broadest of spectrum,
all colors unvarnished, fulsome,
truths rawer than any fictional 3D horror film...

what you do not know,
what you shall now know,
is Samuel Barber's Adagio For Strings
plays once more,
this time the strings
pleadingly command that now,
this time I write
unobfuscated and obtrusive...

(Ah,
those thrusting O words,
so employable, making a face shape surprised
into a rounded, somewhat circuitous
O)


decline to describe the decline,
the angle, the steepness
to-be-determined,
not to be denied for the extremities advise
the battle internal has commenced,
and without a band of brothers,
a solitary, wandering, knight-poet errant,
in search of a battle not,
for the embattlements within are
under attack...

yes errant,
off course,
of course,
the errant bay breeze
speaks to me one more time,
chiding the me-child like a goodly parent,
firm but gentle, modulating tween
just cold enough to make me shiver,
but enough not,
no, to drive me inside...

not knowing, that my inside nature
presently rebellious, all manner of riotous
transmissions beseeching pain medication

foolishness all this temporizing diversionary tactics,
the commencement is the commencement,
the beginning signal fires an ending,
a landing on runways unknown,

fear is not present,
how could it be,
I was warned once and then repeatedly,
so the brain begins yet another remapping,
contours of misshapen sensory inputs
distorted and then the  breeze
over my shoulders reads these words, and
disappears to comfort me by
unopposing the sun vitals,
letting them enter unimpeded...

so
smile creases appear
across poet's tempest face,
for though his hands
splayed and warped,
the trigger fingers stuck
and cannot pull,
the nubs obey the eyes
and solace him,
for as he promised himself,
to himself,
those poetic nerves
will write on
long after all the physical ones,
with errant breezes,
and summer peace,
gone, gone, gone...



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
^*(Oh! how that word personal,
Naturally, naturally
doth haunt me,
for mine own nature be the
leader of mine enemies allied)
Oct 5, 2014
Anyone
who is selectively nice
is not a nice person at all.

One who is nice to you
but not to others
is but duplicitous at best.

How One treats waiters, servers, cashiers and strangers
is a better indication of how they really think of others.

*How rampant the internet is with sociopathy!
Ned Carter Nov 2013
To be immortal, eternal
To last throughout the ages
To stand above all others
Written of by the Sages

To battle through adversity
Overcome all of the odds
Lay low all of your enemies
Ascend to the realm of Gods

Hear the melody of your tale
Pour from the mouths of Bards
Your cunning and your trickery
Your proclivity for dice and cards

Your saving of maiden
Your taking of the same
Your duplicitous nature
The building of your name


So many disguises, outfits, faces
A new person for every event
so many skills to learn and master
All or your time is used now, spent

You have stretched far, a longish span
A passing storm heard in the distance
A raging power, destroyer of worlds
A torrent of change at your insistence

You step into the glow of life’s evening
Looking back on this long trip
A small smile brightens, tired eyes
As into past dreams you slowly slip

Eternal? Immortal?
throughout the ages?
Who cares of these things?
What matter the Sages?

Fully lived lives are the answer
Moments grasped firm, held tightly
As the end must come for us all
Go to your end Proudly, not lightly
Del Maximo May 2012
morning light warms my face
through patches of bright blue cerulean
orphans’ tears drizzle and drop the
sky’s condolences upon my windshield
the musty smell of wet asphalt rises
from the streets
it’s raining on a sunny day
the devil is beating his wife

his father hurt his mother
beat her ****** with his hands
he took care of her after "dad" left
even took up studies on abused women
and championed their cause
but broken down, tired men
often fall back on ingrained memories
push came to shove came to hit
he couldn’t break violence’s cycle
his father taught him well

they vow to love and honor
these duplicitous sons of Janus
but things happen
plans don’t work out
shortfalls and failures
loose cowardice and bullying
frustrations are acted out on loved ones
promises forgotten
knots untied

secrets have a way of coming to light
frazzled nerves and shame are palpable
black eyes and contusions speak
serious injuries become a matter of record
written in hospital and police files
etched on the walls in the vaults of heaven
deeds done in darkness are no longer deniable
and the face he ended up hurting
is his own
© September 25, 2012
Michael Briefs Jul 2017
The animal spirit she possesses,
An agile anima stalking a dark spark within,
Looms as predator and protector.
This hunter-rogue guide
Glides through her Soulscape,
Revealed as moon illumined mountain forest,
A place of winter-refracted
Ethereality and lurking danger.
In this dusky, deceptive ambiance,
She has access to a primordial instinct –
Archetypal symbols, ancient signs –
At once savage and wise.
Finding herself in this
Wilderness of vulnerability,
She girds for battle.
Staring squarely into the dark,
Duplicitous and cruel face
Of her adversary, she prepares.
She finds the strength to see
What are lies and
What are the truths --
Both are found there
In that pitched, lacerated visage.

Like all warriors across
Time immemorial,
She embraces her pain,
Exercising control over it.
Absorbing the jagged,
Razor’d contours,
She sees
In its elements
The space where the
“Other” ends
And where she begins;
How she was made
A flint against which
He sharpened his cutlass
And where she
Has made of herself
The door through which he entered.

From this core radiance
Comes a rapier will to survive,
The strength to guard her kin,
The keen intelligence
To unleash her primal howl,
And the blood-fire to rule her demons.
Okami is the Japanese word for wolf. A photo representation that inspired this poem: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10210179988232171&set=a.10208174166607884.1073741828.1113041505&type=3&theater
Marco Batista Nov 2013
LOVE

Myriad amounts of thoughts, feelings, attitudes come from the four letter word. Love isn’t a word to me anymore. It’s a rare gem entrenched in dirt and not a lot of people get to experience it, the pure and exact form at least. Love is a confusing word, trust me I’m not the only one who feels this way. Maybe not a confusing word, its definition is available to comprehend and interpret, but an abstruse action to execute. I think it’s the only word that signifies emotion but also has it. I know it sounds confusing, but you get it.  As painful as it might be, you get it. And those of you searching, she’ll find you, you’ll never find her.  What I’m trying to elicit here is you have to be careful with love.

IT COULD SINK ITS TEETH IN YOU! AND THEN WHAT!

It doesn’t sound to awful. At least to the people who claim they have it; to them, enjoy it. But to those people who’ve lost it. From it, those people who have been fooled in the pursuit. For those people who’ve had the taste of it on the tip of their tongue, the people who wanted to swallow it but never got it passed the state of digestion. I feel for you. You can’t get obsessive with it, let’s all agree on that. Love will cut you up if you smother her. People have this infatuation of asking: “Who’s the coldest ***** out there?” I’ll respond semi-charismatically: “That ***** love, she’s the coldest. She gets me so close, exposes me so open, by the time I realize her effects. I’m gone.” I’m being objective I swear. But you have to admit; the ******* is duplicitous.

— The End —