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Joey T Nov 2012
I try to put the words together
make em eb an flow...
the waves were crashing all around
and began to rock the boat..
it crashed and left him stranded
and enveloped in the swoll..
hes fighting for the surface but he's
being pulled below...
deep down in to the recess of his
dark an dreary mind...
hes surrounded by the thoughts
and feelings of every single kind...
now unsure to where to go from
here its all become to much...
whats real or fake or in between he's
got no reality to clutch...
but now hes scratched the surface
and the disk begins to skip...
hes starting to let go a little push and
then he slips...
he finds himself together
he's perfectly in tact...
now hes got the power harnessed
no way he can look back...
His goal becomes destruction
he begins to look around...
He sees the lies that torture him,
his target he has found....
the source of all this pain and hurt
your deceptions were so good...
How you always faked the smile
he's never understood....
In his mind he begins erasing never saving
what was bad...
Now anything he didn’t want its if he's
never seen or had...
The good did come but came and
went just lost along the way...
Now he sat up and smiled
for he had come upon today....
Just up on the horizon the sun had begun to rise...
the light began to take him
he tightly closed his eyes...
He awoke to find himself alone
just lying on the shore...
He breathed in deep to his relief
he had been there before...
This beach he had imagined every night
he lay in bed....
This place was his escape from all thoughts
inside his head...
The water washed up on his feet
it began to come and go...
The waves they crashed just like the words
that so did eb and flow
-JT
Andrew Foster Dec 2010
Eb and Flow

See my rhythms and poems
Have no motion no flow

Sometimes they Eb
But even that happens real slow

The motion is there
I Just don’t wanna let it go

If I add it you’d know
That I cared to grow

And learn, discern
I won’t say anymore

Except for this

I took a piece of bliss
Put it in my back pocket
Sat down and smashed it
Took it out then I dropped it

My language saw me
Decided I should stop it
So I brushed it off
Told everyone that I lost it

Truth is that I crossed it
Didn’t earn the ability
Says who? Says Me.
So I took and I tossed it

Whats left
I don’t know
No language

Sometime I Eb

But even that happens slow
g clair Nov 2015
Eb pulls back, he holds his peace
he's done with Flo, he's wined the beast
and as it's said, 'don't tread where sands are shifting'
ebb and flow, they come and go
ebb draws us out, the tides are low,
but as we yearn, return, and stop our drifting.

i stand on rock, alone at last
and mourn for what is done and past
but still, with broken heart, recall the surges;
the times when you were out at sea
and when you finally wrote to me
I laugh at how you satisfied my urges.

The words we shout from distant shore
the ones which fall on heavy oar
which make the trip back home far less than pleasing;
far better are the words on wing
which land with olive branch and sing
a song of love which keeps the flow from freezing.

but even in the closest knit
where scarcely will the piece not fit
there's comes a rhythm known as ebb and flow.
and marriage is a special bond
and Eb and Flo they looked beyond
and understood the way it had to go.

and through the laughter and the tears
and late night dances, sharing beers
they always knew the highs would lead to low.
and now Flo waits on lonesome shore
for time apart was forced before
as time would have it, 'twas Eb's time to go.
g clair Feb 2014
Eb pulls back, he holds his peace
he's done with Flo, he's wined the beast
and as it's said, 'don't tread where sands are shifting
ebb and flow, they come and go
ebb draws us out, the tides are low,
but as we yearn, return and stop our drifting.

I stand on rock, alone at last
and mourn for what is done and past
but still, with broken heart, recall the surges
the times when you were out at sea
and when you finally wrote to me
I laugh at how you satisfied my urges.

The words we shout from distant shore
the ones which fall on heavy oar
which make the trip back home far less than pleasing
far better are the words on wing
which land with olive branch and sing
a song of love which keeps the flow from freezing.

but even in the closest knit
where scarcely will the piece not fit
there's comes a rhythm known as ebb and flow.
and marriage is a special bond
and Eb and Flo they looked beyond
and understood the way it had to go.

and through the laughter and the tears
and late night dances, sharing beers
they always knew the highs would lead to low.
and now Flo waits on lonesome shore
for time apart was forced before
as time would have it, 'twas Eb's time to go.
Purcy Flaherty Nov 2018
You came to me like a fairytale,
I held you close; I looked into your eyes,
they were deep and full of soul; chancing fate.
I kissed your neck and shoulders, your belly and your ***,
We took each others bodies and tasted freedom.
~
I couldn't help feeling this was your one and only,
A secret that you'll keep to your self ~ "A happy thought!"
Secure in the knowledge that you were once utterly cherished;
And that you alone would choose martyrdom; rather than embracing me.
choosing martyrdom and brutal familiarity rather than embracing change.
The wicked never rest
Tset eht ssap yeht fi
For they scream this night
Thgis morf edih yeht dna
They come to close your eyes
Seirc rieht era esruc a
They come for you, be assured
Drawer ruoy eb llahs htaed rof
The wicked will come at last
Tsac eb lliw lleps rieht dna
You can not run if you try
Eid si od won nac uoy lla
copyright
Htims Sirhc
2010
13 Aug 2013
"You won’t affect me,
I’m in control”

The words that stoked the embers

Long ago-
laziness, my wife
****** it all over
and ambition, my father
abandoned his son
the dogma rewrote itself
before my brother, conviction
was convicted of capriciousness
-my family was lost

Death is a powerful thing
it’s transcendence, one could say
and when the future dies
the present is lost in disarray
to think so lightly of the end
is foolish, arrogant, in fact

If a ******* wishes to die,
does he curse the world or the ones that fed him to it?
there is a lot of hate going around
hate that can’t be absolved simply by love
this ******* is hell spawn

It takes will to overcome fear
not courage or bravery
vanity words for a vain republic
getting plastered on screens worldwide
yeah that’s it… overcoming fear
Becoming it

What more can money buy?
A new life? A new dream?
A reset button?
Unlikely

A simple barter on the divine sale
ideals don’t come without risks
the higher the horse, the longer the fall
but that’s not the case at all
the highest one here gets to buy **** IT ALL
the ultimate get out of jail free card

But I’ve already gotten way off track

Either way,
you won’t affect me
I’m in control.
You won't affect me,
I'm in control  - Long live the misanthrope (soilwork)

AMAZING SONG!
Phoenix Rising Jul 2017
Sometimes, I wake up and I wonder
How I ended up inside
...Ended up inside
Sometimes, I wonder
How did we fall...
For such a simple trick
That everyone says that they'll never fall for
when they fall in love.
You said you'd never do the things you do.
You said you'd never fall in love again.
You said you'd never do the things you do.
Then why, why, why
do we not know better?
Not know better?
Farther down the truth....
Farther down the truth...
So far away from you.
Farther down the truth.
So called truth.
I thought I loved you from the start.
I thought I loved you from the heart.
I thought this was about you.
But in the end,
it's always about me.
In the end,
it's always about me.
In the end,
it's always about...
g clair Sep 2013
Eb pulls back, he holds his peace
he's done with Flo, he's wined the beast
and as it's said, 'don't tread where sands are shifting'
ebb and flow, they come and go
ebb draws us out, the tides are low,
but as we yearn, return, and stop our drifting.

i stand on rock, alone at last
and mourn for what is done and past
but still, with broken heart, recall the surges;
the times when you were out at sea
and when you finally wrote to me
I laugh at how you satisfied my urges.

The words we shout from distant shore
the ones which fall on heavy oar
which make the trip back home far less than pleasing;
far better are the words on wing
which land with olive branch and sing
a song of love which keeps the flow from freezing.

but even in the closest knit
where scarcely will the piece not fit
there's comes a rhythm known as ebb and flow.
and marriage is a special bond
and Eb and Flo they looked beyond
and understood the way it had to go.

and through the laughter and the tears
and late night dances, sharing beers
they always knew the highs would lead to low.
and now Flo waits on lonesome shore
for time apart was forced before
as time would have it, 'twas Eb's time to go.
Noel Irion Aug 2011
they said they did it for efficiency's sake.
birthed machine after machine,
just to increase the rate
                                  per
                                 time.
no god-given talent or skill,
can defeat this adaptive assembly line.

no man-     P
no fire-         O
no brain-       W
no super-     E
no will-      R

it's flawless at first glance, and maybe even second.
simply perfect to the naked eye; even the telescoped, i reckon.
but under a microscope, it becomes simple to see,
this single-purposed way of life isn't human; how can it be?

just like control + C, control + V,

i believe they've synchronized simplicity.
  believe they've synchronized simplicity.
                they've synchronized simplicity.
                              synchronized simplicity.
                                                     ­  simplicity.
                                                     ­                   .
                                                                ­        .yticilpmis
                                             ­                           .yticilpmis dezinorhcnys
                                                    ­                    .yticilpmis dezinorhcnys ev'yeht
                                                         ­               .yticilpmis dezinorhcnys ev'yeht eveileb
                                                         ­               .yticilpmis dezinorhcnys ev'yeht eveileb i

                                                              ­                         ,V + lortnoc ,C + lortnoc ekil tsuj

                                        ?eb ti nac woh ;namuh t’nsi efil fo yaw desoprup-elgnis siht
                                                          ,e­es ot elpmis semoceb ti .epocsorcim a rednu tub
                                    .nokcer i ,depocselet eht neve ;eye dekan eht ot tcefrep ylpmis
                                                       .dnoces neve ebyam dna ,ecnalg tsrif ta sselwalf s’ti

                                                           ­                                                                R      -lliw on
                                                              ­                                                           E     -repus on
                                                              ­                                                        W       -niarb on
                                                              ­                                                          O      ­   -erif on
                                                              ­                                                             P     -nam on

                                                             ­                .enil ylbmessa evitpada siht taefed nac
                                                             ­                                   ,lliks ro tnelat nevig-dog on
                                                              ­                                        .emit                    ­                  
                                              ­                                                          rep    ­                              
                                  ­                                                                 ­     etar eht esaercni ot tsuj
                                                            ­                              ,enihcam retfa enihcam dehtrib
                                                         ­                .ekas s’ycneiciffe rof ti did yeht dias yeht
you might need a mirror...
Tamika Dakota Apr 2015
I wanted to change
But not for good
I wanted to be smarter
Don't know if I could
I wanted all the power
There's none that agreed
Every moment every hour, you're all I see
I wanted you to be there through the days I need you most
I wanted you to hold my hand, I rage, I scream, I boast
I wanted them to fade away so I'm all who you see.
I wish that I was made for you, cause you were made for me.
sdrawkcab lla si ti
semitemos
sgniht  ta kool ot yap t’nseod
eb dluohs yeht yaw eht
ytilibats pu evig  ot nrael
ytiugibma fo ssenteews eht ecarbme
ekil-gurd si rewop sti
sevird ti  sa sessessop ti
shpmuirt taht ssendam a
  tniop noitanimluc eht ta
ytivitaerc fo ecand eht
egru na ;regnuh a si ti
tcepser a sdnammoc taht
lausunu eht ,euqinu eht rof
!ylpmoc ohw esoht staiwa dlrow wen elohw a
-em evig
noitanimreted emos noissap emos
!ylf dna sgniw eht hcterts ot ssengnilliw emos
- em ekam
seil dna sevil taht sselraef a
ytirucesni nwo sti yb detrofmoc

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
27.08.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2020
for all i care to remember...
        looking into the mirror was more or less...
something akin to:
"squirting"... **** me! SQUINTING...
      well... the contortion of the eyes...
"worrying" about a double-chin...
and of course... enough stealth acne
to make me... the bride of beelzebub
how i'd joke to myself...
         beelzebub sat on my face and *******
a tonne of... dead maggots...

           i never knew i was athletic standing
before a mirror...
i probably know that i am less athletic now...
but... looking into mirror made
sense... once...
   this russian girl...
    in st. petersburg...
   we were in "love"...
       and there was this great aventurine bed...
and... a closet with two mirrors...
and... we'd be at it...
i was looking into the mirror...
and she was looking into the mirror...
it was like: the opposite of *** on l.s.d. -
because it was like...
beyond the missionary -
the "******" of the mirror...
   as in ***... it leaves you wanting
to ******* to the *******...
because... hell...
without a mirror...
could you capture the face moaning
contorting like an experiment out
of the gehenna harem?

     for all the *** toys sold...
all those exceses of... woman's lingerie...
outfits... nurses...
   blah blah... it really takes a mirror
to spice things up...
this dead-eyed mirror canvas...
the dire-dead-necessary...
    tooth-fairy: ref. the red dragon...
i needed to see that she needed to see
that i was ******* her... and that she...
was being ******...

           mirror mirror on the wall...
**** the fair and the fairest and the fairies...
i have come to understand that mirrors...
work best...
when... not stressed to exemplify...
a concern for beauty...
   or... something that is worn...
clothes look... terribly important in a mirror...
esp. by someone wearing them
when allowed to be digested / investigated
by a mirror...

but... a mirror during ***?
when you're not performing inverted missionary...
doggy... and she's lying with clenched ****-cheeks...
i was in love once...
which also implies:
i ****** like a race-champ pony!
the mirror always helps...
i wouldn't know: whether s&m leather
and straps would... and whips...
made much of a difference...
when... the mirror... the ghost ******...
the: satan you could get away with...
if you didn't utter a comprehensive word...
but ensure a strict rigidity to...
onomatopoeias and syllables...
and... exfoliating nouns...

        upon memory being summoned...
i'm getting a bigger hard-on thinking
about all the encounters i've had with the police...
there's always at least two memorable
encounters...
getting poisoned in a nightclub...
getting on the bus...
getting off the bus... dropping like a pancake
onto the cement...
     being roused... asked by the police officer
whether i was o.k.:
making a slurred and lengthy apology...
giving my address...
and being... taken in a police van... in a cage
for a sinner... like a taxi...
back home...

    losing my virginity to a pair of handcuffs...
for ******* in an alleyway...
getting screamed at...
one officer cuffed me...
the female officer had a pen and pad ready...
in an alleyway where it was discussed:
and who's alleyway is it?
i'm too drunk already...
if i walked into a pub on friday come
10pm i'd be asked to buy a pint
in order to use their toilet...

         it's one sort of luck... gambling...
betting on a horse...
but another... being hand-cuffed...
  and then... having the hand-cuffs...
taken away...
              as this dialogue happened in the...
"invisible" shadow of the alley...
i can't exactly imagine what the onlookers
saw...
           a teasing of authority...
drinking a beer on a bench outside
a pub on a friday night...
which is... basically... taking away
the revenue... of being sardine packed...
and pyramid schemed... for failure...
but my... what a glorious night...

so i asked: and where am i... permitted...
and blah blah...
that ******* mirror... and that aventurine bed...
the same thrill during ***...
like... the thrill of stepping into a brothel...
without a need to ***...
the 9 of them: all nazgul attired in scrutiny...
before "the pick"...

   *** toys... can i please get a mirror in here?!
it has to become a standard for a healthy
sexed up relationship...
    a mirror can overpower any...
frivolity of during-***: attire...
  the imitation ******...
a mirror is... just that...
                 *** with: in third person narrative...
but... smirk-giggle:
you catching her eyes getting ******...
and she catching your eyes: ******* her...

so tame tame... unlike reading...
  the tame blushes of marquis the sade...
never to mention... this philosophical adventure
of ******... which it really is...
impeccable... trouble with: thought put into
practice...
                yes... that horrid... Fritzl case...
but unlike the idealist scenario...
the mother was notably pushed away from
the grandiosity of the sin...
and it was done... in public... with...
a purview of... shaking established social norms!
it wasn't... a rabbit-hole of horror...

              which is why i'm glad i do not
have children of my own...
   i once spent an afternoon with...
my... grand-aunts son... my uncle...
don't ask...
         and i looked like him and thought...
well... i have most certainly had more
fun with cats and dogs...
i was a complete mute...
i didn't feel like cuddling this piece
of cubism... it looked human and even
contorted like one...
perhaps if it was mine...
i could have... somehow...
            "relegated my inhibitions"?
                 n'est ce pas?
         to have children and begin with...
that ******* of differentiating vowels from
consonants... and then... building consonants...
what... 5 vowels... 21 consonants...
5 x 21 = 105 variations...
       prefix: ab, ac, ad, af, ag...
                     eb, ec, ed, ef, eg...
                           IF only! oof!
                 the suffix - ba, ca, da, fa, go...
                                 bat cat dad fat god...
and then... the 21 x 21 consonant variables...
squared to the power of 5...
because... chinese is... frankly...
so simple...

   - it's summer and...
            since i would otherwise... require ink...
to write... and the paper would somehow
be always readily available...
no need for ink...
the summer months are terrible...
for no requirement of ink...
what is ink?  ink is...
                         i need october...
i need november... december... january...
february... half of march...
i need to borrow ink from the night!
i can't scribble in these arab / kenyan months...
these sun-seeker months
of idle by the dream-pool... load of...
overtly-talked... less thought...
therefore... no need to scribble...

    i need the night for my ink...
                           "punctuation marks are in
the constellations": oh yes... honey sweet...
what's it called? cliche? we've all been there...
i too would sacrifice Hector before the altar
of Achilles if i were Priam...
                   only because: he was called Hector...
and the other was Achilles...
and i was called Priam...
       in such times... what were...
the trully... common-place names...
of stunt-men and extras?
   i'd like to know the equivalent of a john smith
from ancient greece...
what would one call: him?
            
        perhaps: i tend to think about *** when
i... most probably had a dream...
jerking off is a bit like...
checking one's blood pressure...
or as a diabetic might... ***** his index
to check the sugar levels...
i write about "***" when i've had a dream...
the dream...

i was talking to a man about cars...
notably... cars from...
america and germany...
circa the years... 1920s through to...
                the 1970s...
          and... then... the talk of... a motorcycle...
a specific motorcycle...
   a triump street cup...
                 a BMW R18... but not quiet...
whatever it was...
                    for the love of a double-decker
bus and a pair of legs...
                which is not...
to have emotionally invested
in *** was something a much younger
version of me would have done...
i thank the prostitutes of curing me of this...
debilitating disease / dream...
              which, i, prescribed... myself...
so no... i hardly think...
there were any... mummy or daddy issues...
i would skip several scenarios:
as much as i love riding a double-decker
bus... i abhor... taking a taxi...
       even if it requires me to walk...
2 miles... i'd rather walk:
for the love of legs and... voodoo dolls hanging
like corks... bend the knee: they might say...
bullet to the knee-cap... if you ask me...
again...

     perhaps i wasn't born english...
but... after... 26 years among them...
                          it "sort of" grows on you...

- man can perform a thousand:
dodo project genocides in one sitting:
on the throne of thrones...
before jumping under a baptism:
fully attired in the ganjes pyjamas
in one sitting: on the throne of thrones...
to "squat" while *******...
*******... *******...
"scented candles" of taking a shower...

i write about *** every time i have a dream...
it's to succumb to the lesser...
escapade of me...
i can stomach subjectivity...
but having to stomach idealism...
is another matter: altogether...
i would like to worship the men who
have had their fill...
and settled for the swan blockade
of the widower romance...
the widow swan...
the black widow: a ******* spider...

none of it... i ****** good i ******
well... come the prime of the age 21...
she was a gamer side-kick bedded...
she prescribed me...
                        Bulgakov...
              reading a ****** to a prussian...
or reading a ****** to a RUŚ: example: ditto...
                  i have heard of how
love supposedly closed and opened borders...
we are so antithesis "different"...
we aren't... some western "communist"
zoo study:
the people who say and then...
lucky us paupers...
who have to "loot" the infrastructure
of the vacating ****-tunnels...
because... someone has to ****-off...
their tongue and... gerbil fidgety!

albino chimpanzee and...
boxer gorilla fed on...
the promise of bulk... with nothing
but... the promise of fruits of your
labour... and nothing relating
to protein... or fat... of complex sugars
known as bread... none of that!
still: that fudge-packing bulk of
gorilla bicep protein: amass!

   - as ever... the murk: before the deep-water...
the... inverted demigods
of h. p. lovecraft...
because... cthulhu is... "somehow"...
not the ******* son of Poseidon?

acid-quasi-monkey asks...
   placid-didgeridoo...
                a constipated: not funny...
attempts! at solving a crossword!
-frankenstein-myrhh:
                        ******* dangling...
                                    (-) - Fatima...
is this... "Syria" yet?
  concerning the second coming...
concerning...
Syrian civil war... something...
*******... miraculous...
has happened...
or was about to happen...
and that it didn't happen...
better that it did:
but since it... didn't...
best we cover it up...
                corpse bride:
               Khadija **** Khuwaylid...
if ever: Stephen Vizinczey...
was a (prophet) Muhammad...
in praise of older women...

    ...a Fatima... fleeing the Syrian
civil war... because... Ramses II
was... telling apart the 7 good years
from... the 7 ******* years...

tell you what... it's no fun...
when you've been given the need
to bend the knee before the altar
of phantom power...
if i were 16 and she was 14...
if i was 18 and she was 16...
if i was 60! and she was... 20!
would it matter?
               if i was jerking off aged 8...
you want to know...
what... the last prize is...
the last... difference between...
"consent" of two adult adult...
with their *******-riddle
of a theatre of ***?
     you want to know?
the thought of ******* someone...
under-age...
no! no barbie! no ken!
the theatre of thought...
of ******* someone... underage...
who is... displaying...
teasing ***... in that primodial seance
of grief to ward of mother from
the ******...
and father from the parentage of
school!

               you ever want to see...
what... a kick in the jaw looks like...
omnipresent onlooker...
of some... unpardonable crime...
that it has to be ***-related...
              i wish i performed some
unpardonable crime on a *******...
i guess a kiss is a kiss is an unpardonable
crime against a *******...
i need this heart to shelter itself
in stone! i need: a heart!
of hard-earned: rock!
               with each sentence:
i find it impossible to not....growl!
to howl! to spew a bickering of...
wolves... of hyenas...
a wake of crows!
            
              i want toi write an echo!
hye! anoooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
i want to hear...
the microscope itching
of a marrow...
of maggots working toward
a closure of expressing: scotch fudge!
i want! maggot marrow!
i want! the lost sounds of...
what the fox already minded...
in...                       χαoς! ρει(γ)νς!
yes... the gamma is a surd...
                 in this... english... equation...

last time i checked:
the cognitive theatre of the forbidden...
****** "lax"...
it's enough to tease the affair with
mere thought...
to have... people "bothered"
that one thinks... such "things"!
while the girl... prime... aged... 14...
teases you with...
exfoliations of...
                      script and... censure...
like a skirt...
but of course...
you're the dodo-project genocidal maniac
about to sport a new: cushioning
extreme...
of an ******* like...
you're minding teasing...
a high-blood pressure!

          can i allow myself a giggle?
a crown of: a dozen demons laughing
as relevant: to the 12 strong cohort of...
cognitive lapses of reason?
          
  ******* before a mirror is my...
my memory and my last concern for...
"adventure"...
a ****** ******* a russian girl so freely...
she fed off of us as...
     spinning a willow to confine itself to:
those rhubarbs in... "retro"...
no... i'm pretty sure... "they"...
the western communists would have minded
it coming across as...
  rhubarb... dreads... stiff 12" drizzle /
drool bits of a tight-knit white sporting ***!
my... oh... wait...
not exactly 16... so... no...

my... what?!
    this has to become one of those...
most... "unspectacularbly": "a least"
in what's to be digested... "fogiven"...
when... there's that teasing-**** of a per-se
readied for her rite of horror to be
met with ******* the...
upper... echelons...
to the queue! to the loiter!
to the...                cue: no dry martini equipped...
sort of... joke as... a variation
of... escapism: to excuse...
fixations... of social hierarchy...

    i am hardly a misogynist...
            it's almost... fake...
how feminists point out... death-pull...
the misogynists...
clinging to philanthropists... i suppose...
it's like...
"someone" forgot...
to... mention...
the benevolent in misanthrophy...
the happily allied to the ivory tower...
whether you're a man or a woman...
or a man pretending to be a woman...
or a woman pretending to be a man...

who is... the misanthrope?
            the solipsist...
the atheist: should you be god?
the altruist... the... fiddly-bit... extreme...
the... autist?
         who is... your... claim for...
******-****** ruleZ the world?
mother of all perfected children...
a bit like jerking off to...
those gravure beijing models...

ava lauren? she is... an aged looking
*******... closure: madame...
she earned it...
her skin is like leather...
you dare to: wear it...
   but... oops: the ubermensch...
these chinese "brides" are not...
photoshopped...
they're genetically edited...
it was apparent that china
didn't have a soul...
in its summa summarum...
or in its christ redeemer...
when... india has its rich
polytheism... pedagogy:
shiva the antithesis of vishnu:
the thesis...

    i can feel... at least!
i can feel abbreviated with the raj master...
sport...
sending a few "*******" to beijing!
let's hear a story...
no... i'm fuming mad:
i'm dying! to hear that coin-flip
of a tail: of bending the... fuckning knee:
capping... as one might!

there's a <100million of "me"...
there's... a >1billion of "them"...

   while:
            i ****** off to...
          genetically edited creatures...
the western world can hide
behind its setting sun: metaphor...
photo-editing... while...
the hot-**** beijing is...
gene-editing...
west-world 1972 bronze age:
"staging a coup"..

             yeah: gurran-gu-dag...
the arabs and their bangladeshi...
queen-bee sorted...
           elizabeth II...
royal ascot...
  i.e. lamborghinis raced on knightbridge...
because: arab playboys are to be...
minded...

write long... to ensure...
people read short... little chance
of censor-loved-up-pseudo-i.q.-heroes!
100 years later: you become a pseudo-Proust /
a Joyce... but... that also implies:
you're stiff up at the neck...
in death and sand... and worms...
in a grave! so? no turkish kebab:
no malmuk / no janissary resurrection!
Emily Katherine Jan 2012
how hollow are the bones in me
that call to sea when i am out to sleep
what simple steady breath that swells
inside my chest and overwhelms
a faint pain resides in my mind
the eb and flow of a stronger tide
and though tempest turns to storm
the love i lost was never scorned
Michael Ellis Dec 2011
When you see me

You see a peaceful joyful soul

When you see me

You see smiles and happiness

When you see me

You see a strong cheerful young man

When you see me




Yon don't see me like I see me




rorrim gnikool a otni kool I nehW

niap hguorht neeb esohw yob a ees I

rorrim gnikool a onti kool I nehW

ytitnedi on sah ohw nam gnuoy a ees I

rorrim gnikool a onti kool I nehW

eb ll'I yas elpoep nam eht ees t'nod I

rorrim gnikool a onti kool I nehW

erutuf on htiw eruliaf a ees I




When you see me

You don't see the real vulnerable





Me.
And the seeds,
you remember don't you?
They are embedded in the fleshy pulp.

With my index finger
I follow
every fragrant glimpse.

Such intense
and flavorful
memory trails to wonder.

Carum carvi
and Jalapeño sauce
straight from a
hot No.10 skillet.
Blood Orange slices
have not ever tasted
quite like that.
Gardenia blossoms,
they’re not poisonous
are they?

Pause.

Despite the map we charted
I find myself so easily lost
amidst a transcendent,
pervasive flora,

fascinated and breathless.

Really,
makes no difference
if or even where
we placed that letter X.
(c) 2010 Jess Marie Walker. All rights reserved.
Standing ankle deep
on the bluff,
river roaring
something vicious
down below.
Standing knee deep
on the plateau,
there she is again,
the dog
and her bone.

How much of this did you say?
How many times more?
How many times not?

Just give me
the pick ax.
Grab a core sample
if you like.
This will take
some time
and
some thyme
and
some time.
(c) 2014 Jess Marie Walker. All rights reserved.
Nikos Kyriazis Oct 2018
To the summit we go amidst the wild night's storm
An avalanche is summoned where the elder stars grew
Visions of hope amongst the mighty hailstorm
I barely recall now a morning's peaceful dew

An avalanche is summoned where the elder stars grew
Our perilous journey to the dragon's gold nest
I barely recall now a morning's peaceful dew
Valorous are the ones who dared to sail northwest

Our perilous journey to the dragon's gold nest
The Gods have abandoned us, no sign of omen
Valorous are the ones who dared to sail northwest
We're determined to get back the jewels were stolen

The Gods have abandoned us, no sign of omen
With fearless hearts we reach the portals of chaos
We're determined to get back the jewels were stolen
That beast will be slayed by our axes blind pathos

With fearless hearts we reach the portals of chaos
Soon we're going to meet the thief and his firestorm
That beast will be slayed by our axes blind pathos
To the summit we go amidst the wild night's storm
The padum is a lyrical form which started in Malaysia and established in Europe by Hugo. It consists of four verses with crisscross rhyme, the second and the fourth lyric of each verse are become the first and the third of the following. The number of verses is undefined, although the fourth lyric of the last verse owes to be the same with the first lyric of the initial verse
Thomas C Sep 2019
Tiptoe.
Heel to sole.
Closer and warmer.
Tongue against palate.
Tongue against teeth.
Air slips in between lips...
word for word.
Mumbling and muttering…
Hands are shaken.
Heads are nodding.
Backs are bending.
Tiptoe.
Sole to heel.
Distant and cold.
I started playing guitar when I was 14.
I didn't take it very seriously until I was almost 17.
That's when I made time for at least an hour of guitar a day.
Now, six years later, I literally play about eight hours a day when I can.

My exposure to playing music before guitar was the Piano, but I rebelled when it became forced. That's just how I roll. I'm grateful for that musical icebreaker, though. I want to get back into playing keys. For now, I'm focusing on making the guitar into even more of a playground.

I use a 150-watt Ibanez Tone-Blaster head on a 4x12 cab. It's on the clean channel with the levels at 5 and the Overdrive on, with a gain of about 4. The hue is cranked, though. Gotta love that brightness.

I have a Boss ME-70 multi-effect pedal.
I must say, those types of things are great for sampling different sounds, or having watered-down versions of lots effects available at any time. But, if you find one tone you really like, you're best off buying or building the individual pedals to provide you with a higher quality version of your preferred tone.

Anyway, I have the hall reverb at about 5, and some 'classic' overdrive set to 5 for level, tone, and gain. That's all I need. I sparingly use light chorus or uni-v, or maybe a wah for certain parts. I believe simplicity is best in terms of effects.
Although, tasteful delay makes an alright solo into a ****-dampening solo.

I have many axes:
1 nylon 6-string
1 acoustic 6-string
2 Washburn electric-acoustics; a 6 string and a 12 string
2 B.C. Riches (Beast, Stealth)
an LTD KH-602 Superstrat
an Ibanez 'Artcore' series semi-hollow electric Jazz guitar
then, I also have a Roland Ax-Synth keytar.

In my opinion, guitars sound better tuned down.
So, naturally, I tried out drop-D, which was cool.
Then, I wanted all the strings to be lower, so I tried Eb-Standard.
I liked that. There was more body to the sound.

Of course, I tried playing in a drop-style tuning from there and discovered Drop-C#. This tuning stole my heart for a while. That is..
..until the voluptuous redhead D-Standard came along,
arms linked with her **** black-haired sister: Drop-C.

Tuned a step down, bends and vibrato are much more wild beasts.
However, this lower tension will trash your harmonics and stuff,
so I play 10-52 strings: 10, 13, 17, 30, 42, 52. Typically called 'LTHB,' or Light-Top Heavy-Bottom. This helps to keep the tension more similar to as if it were strung with normal strings in standard tuning. That translates into more overtones, which, in turn, means better tone.
More overtones means more pinch harmonics, too. Aww, yeah!

I need to get my hands on a decent electric baritone.
Maybe I'll just make one.

Oh, and another thing:
I just got some brass nuts. ;)
Just thought I'd share, should anyone be interested.
I'd like to note how much more lyrical this came out than I anticipated.
My vingers jeuk om iets te skryf
My hart bloei storms
Maar my vingers jeuk
My gemoed eb en vloei
Maar my vingers jeuk om iets te skryf
My siel hammer verwoed teen my ribbekas
En my vingers jeuk om te skryf

My pen hunker om te vloek
Die swart ink wil die wit vel breek en skree
My polse wil huil
My longe wil verteer
En my nek wil omhels word met n tou
Maar my vingers jeuk om te skryf

Ék kan nie díe jeuk krap nie.
Dít klou aan mý wese
En dít krap mý verstand
En ek bloei waansin
En ek wil skree vir die maan
En ek wil vloek tenoor die son.

My vingers jeuk on te skryf
En ek gee in tot die demoon
Wat honger na n stem.

Iewers sal my woorde weer
N lee papier vind...
En dan kan ek sy lastergille tem.
flat yet hollow
open resonance abounds
fingers find sorrow
wherever they land
music speaks of tomorrow
of past abandoned
left behind
gone solo
weeping tears of the mind
single coil motto
muted yet defined
roll off tone
roll on echo
discordance hard to find
Nathan Millard Dec 2012
I never really understood
Slam poetry
There was a man, a mic, and a spot light
There were words put on paper and words said
There was an eb and flow and there was this rhythm
Everyone seemed to speak the same
Getting faster getting slower
Getting higher getting lower
And there were profound words whispered over coffee cups
Obscuring the chocolate drizzled over latte’s foam
It seemed odd and foreign
Until I became a slam poet
After all I think it’s how they say
You never know a man until you walk a mile in his shoes
But it’s because I used to look at those words they said and
Over analyzed them
Over scrutinized them
I filed them
Color coded them
Cross reference and proof read them
1+1 had to equal 2 but with slam
It equaled like eight
And I could double check again and again
I couldn’t get 1+1 to equal two

But it was because at that time I was a straight A student
Reading seven books at one time
And doing thinks like science fair projects for fun
Because I had realize,
even without knowing I had
That if I was up to the rims of my glasses with books and papers
I couldn’t see my life around me
I paid less attention to the dishes I had to clean if I had equations running through my mind
I never saw how much dad drank if I was reading and writing
I took all those gold stars and straight A’s and plastered them over the cracks in my life
I joined everything I could
I did choir
I did drama
I was the editor of the year book
I did extra credit and went overboard on home work
I made my projects with blood, sweat, and tears
And my academics were my life...
But soon the time came that I got a B

And it didn’t fit quite as cleanly over the hole in my roof I used it to patch
And I didn’t shine bright enough to block out the darkness
And I began to see
A simple column of letters
Two letters
6 A’s and one B
If put it under a microscope it would be made out of the same black ink spatter on pulverized and pressed trees
It would still bleed the same if I dripped water on it
But it was different
Darker it seemed
And at night it didn’t lull me to sleep as well as
An A
It was only 80%
Not my usual hundred and with
less zeroes it couldn’t block out the
sound of my surroundings as well an A could
I couldn’t wrap myself in it and hide
I couldn’t click my heals and have it take me to a happy place
No
It was a B

And I plastered my report cards over my cracked old windows
But there was now a hole where my B would have been

Light leaked in through there
Light that shown on my house
Casting a shadow down on the floor
And the gold star and sticker coated family looked fine standing before me
But the shadow silhouettes were of scary people
Hurt people

And I never saw it all along because a smiley face with bright purple letters saying thing like
“GOOD JOB!”
“GREAT WORK!”
“EXELLENCE!”
Had been neatly peeled from perfect tests
And as gently as it was lifted it was placed onto my family’s faces
The stickers stuck because of their tears
The tears that no longer existed
once hidden by a sticker
I then began to see that the light from outside could show me the world
I then went and stripped my wall and windows
Of reports cards, essays, and projects
I shut off my computer with power points of greatness
Flipping slide
after slide
    after slide

I then opened my windows let air and light flood into my room
And it showed me things
Beautiful things

But then the light flooded into the rest of my house
The breeze became a draft and invaded the rooms
Illuminating the ugliness and hurt

And I tried to shut that window
I tried to glue back up the papers
I tried to sow back together ripped up gold stars

But I was not fast enough
Me
like Pandora
tried closing that box again

What was done…
Was done

It was too late
I saw it all, if only briefly
And now that room full of academic tokens of my achievement
Seemed darker
Even with the windows open
It was darker
Light shown in
A dusky twilight
At noon
And my heart beat faster
My breath quickened
My scream scratched at my throat
Trying to get out but not finding a foot hold
It just clawed and kicked
And on an intake of breath that scream lost its hold
And fell back down my throat
Landing in the pit of my stomach

I then walked out of my room and into my house and looked at my family
I saw the ugly stickers on their face
And peeled them off
Without care and in a haste
I was frantic
And desperate
And afraid
Under those paper adhesive masks
I didn’t recognize the faces
And now I was in a house full of family I had never gotten to know and I was afraid
Not like a scary movie
Not like a dark basement
More like being on a stranded island
Watching a cell phone with service
Get carried away by a seagull

I then looked to see the panic mirrored
In my “families” faces and didn’t find it

I then walked back to my room
And cried myself to sleep
In the dusky twilight
At noon

And when I awoke I found a composition notebook
And a pencil…
river
take
open
ocean

pool
dark

forest
dark

breath
haint

face­
cliff
fur
scratch
blanket

sun
drip
prism
dry
facet

leaf
off
ha­ng
chill

bud
sweat

bell
resin
(c) 2018 Jess Marie Walker. All rights reserved.
Asa D Bruss Feb 2015
yad a ekam dluoc  I fI
noitalsnart ni tsol saw eno on erehw
!eb dlouw taht yad yppah a tahw O
dniknam sah ydalam retaerg tahw roF
kcal elpmis ruo naht
.gniwonk fo
sdnim lautum ruo fo gniwonk ehT
dlog naht thguos erom si
revlis naht suoicerp erom
dnoyeb dna raf dna
derised erom
. sevlesmeht sthguoht eht fo yna naht
http://www.radiolab.org/story/translation/
Samantha Cunha Dec 2018
Waves rise
then
crash
smoke rises
next falls
The ash
we must
let go
of
illusionary control
instead embrace
The eb& the flow
I’m going to nap until it’s morning there
then send you a dream song
for yoga practice
or tai chi
or just lying still
listening while breathing.

Breathing these breaths.

Or are you here and this dusk is also upon you?

How often are poems written for you?
How often are thoughts given to you?
How often is time evaded with you?

I accidentally recorded four hours and fifty-nine minutes
of southern summer insect sounds
the other night.
Good thing it didn’t rain.
That time that it did
on the canyon’s edge
crouched under blooming rhododendron
you knew then didn’t you?

I’ve always liked the sound
of the word canyon
gorge even more so.

What sounds are you hearing now?

You should send a photo
of where you are.
I mean the place.

I see you clearly
however awkward
without falter.
Thank you.
(c) 2018 Jess Marie Walker. All rights reserved.
Stanley David Nov 2013
Mostly, it sickens me that
our notes sent back and forth are
measurably more pleasant than conversation
We share in person.

I bet that paper lotus is gone.

Interchanged sentence fragments
both homeopathic and calculated by lamplight.

I bet that bookmark is still in the same place.

Even comparing you to Ivan would be a stretch,
Who are we kidding.
Dmitri.
But that’s still not the name I call you ante meridiem.

I bet Freud was right, but I never called myself a boy.  

A . Eb.  Six steps.  
Slonimsky dedicated so many pages to you.

I guess I will distill the Ocean
for salt.    

I can’t say any of this to you,
the most honest I’ll ever be
is in a poem I hope you’ll never read.
New guitar-only instrumental song:

https://soundcloud.com/apexparadigm/dream

The "A" sections are 4/4, with a progression of:
| : Cm---Ab---Gb---Eb-Db-Cm---Ab---F---G--Db : |, or
| : i VI bV III bII i VI iv v bII : | (as I like to think of it)
The "B" sections are a measure of 15/8 alternating with a measure of 7/4.
The guitars play either 5 3s or 3 5s for the 15, and then a groove in 7/4 in between.
The guitars trade off which is playing the 3s and 5s.
Harmonically, the compound time section is just a static Cm.

Written in a few moments, and then recorded in the course of half an hour as a sketch.
The title is somewhat arbitrary, but I do have my reasons.
Enjoy!

Questions and comments welcome.
Michael L Dec 2015
Calm I'm not on any day
Formed by forces beyond my control

You fear me without knowing me
I'm really just transparency

Plunge your hand into my belly
Feel how easy I give way

My life is one big rise and fall
The wrinkles and foam I produce

Mighty is my capacity to drench
Administering liquid in great degrees

Sand and rock are my enemy
They dare to stand in my way

In the end, it's my nature I adore
The constant eb and flow
DJKearney Apr 2017
When I saw you in the gloaming
sat beneath old Herod's tree
The heralds made you think of one
so unalike from me
Weren't you a fawn who with them bore
O' such a troubled breast
That when you sat beside yourself
found there no form of rest.

And was it I that saw you there
Or was it someone close?
Is't good to question weary eyes
with sweet nepenthe's dose?
O' agèd doe, Ignore me so
to temper thine own soul
O' springtime eddies eb and flow
Cosset the wintered vole.
The Jolteon Mar 2017
Friends and
Family
Will betray you
Some day
But it may
Take Months
Years
To figure it out
How are we
To respond
With love
Compassion
Or hate
Forgive
Never
Forget

— The End —