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BB Tyler Mar 2012
eclipsed by clouds, the moon still shines
over amaranth fields, and ocean brine
over waves of water and land
stretch the light of lunar hands
touching down, a twisted ladder
kundalini as an adder
such sweet teeth are these
but I have a feeling that the echelons are only echos
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)
The Al shabab on 22 day of September 2013   attacked Kenya again. It has attacked and lynched siege on the Nairobi’s biggest mall known as the West Gate. This is one of the severest after other similar attack in 1998.The people who are averagely assumed to be killed are  one hundred.Al shabab is a regional east African arm of Arabo-islamic global terrorist group known as the Algaeda.But something notable about all the terrorist groups in the world, inclusive of Alshabab, is that they all have an Arabic, communist and Islamic bias with overt expression of anti-American movements.
The Lynching of the Mall in Nairobi has affected all the Kenyan communities. Asian and African, Europeans and Americans. However the survivors of the West Gate mall attack has narrated out that the attackers were discriminately asking for ones religion before they shoot. Thus Muslims were not shot but non Muslims were shot and then held hostage. The military sources on the site shared out that the terrorists were foreigners but they perfectly worked through their plan through co-operation of locals and citizens of a victim countries; Kenya and America.
Immediately after this terror attack in Nairobi, a group of social researchers in Kenya carried out an electronic survey on the social media to find out why the Alshabab has easily recruited the followers and why an African youth can easily accept recruitment in to the membership of terror groups like Boko haram, Al shabab, and Al gaeda.The responses gathered from diverse digital socialites  skews into one  modal direction which  shows that America alone with its ostentatious international relations  will not win the war on global terrorism.
The motivation for easy recruitment into membership of the terror groups was established by the social media survey as diverse factors but most august among them are ; extreme conditions of poverty among the youths in contrast to the rich and wealthy elderly echelons of the most African societies. Also, sharp contrast in the economic conditions between America and Africa where American societies wallow in extreme riches whereas the African societies contemporaneously are stark deep in idyllic poverty perpetually wallowing in the mire of need and economic challenges. Some respondents cited the crooked way through which the state of Israel was formed as well as the atrocious nature of American foreign policy towards the Arab world through which there was perpetration of killing of Muamar Al Gadaffi and regular Military bombardment of Arab countries like Syria and Afghanistan.
Also the current American presidency and the preceding one of George Bush provoke distasteful responses on the social media. Especially in relation to the Prison maintained at quatanamo bay which basically was established as a basic torture facility used by the American government to torture terrorist suscepects from North Africa, Arab emirates and Europe. But the prison at Quatanamo bay is composed of a large number of North African as detainees. A respondent on the social media quoted Pravda, the Russian Newspaper in English version which had a revelation about the Quatanamo prison. The Pravda projected number of North Africans in the Quatamo prison to be currently standing at one hundred and thirty seven. The Newsweek also concurs with this position by narrating in its july 2013 edition that, there are very many prisoners of North African descend in quatanamo prison who began a hunger strike sometimes ago but they are forcefully fed through a tube.

The facebooking ,tweetering and charting thematically show one modal position that American discriminatory foreign policy towards Israel and Persia, American extreme capital amid critical world poverty, poverty in Africa especially among the youth, presence of weapons of mass destruction in Israel to which America is oblivious or nonchalant  ,Russian technological casuistry and Chinese economic dominance combine into a blend of extensive anti-American feelings that  make the world youths not reliable when it comes to the moral duty of desisting from joining the terrorist groups. American hard politics and hard diplomacy will make America not to win war on global terrorism.
jonchius Sep 2015
redefining awkward definiens
endorsing victorious evening
clamoring hawk-like intonations
conjecturing additional goals
optimizing ambient network
winning illinoisan night

trapping hacked-up events
warping æsthetic remnants
resuming inaudible overture
rallying auric-state net-work
defying anti-punk technophobia
eliminating cavalier homies!

minding icelandic anniversary
winging ersatz excuses
kicking ecstatic nerves
denying lackadaisical event
questioning upper echelons
brûlant en calice
the third week of June 2015 (cut short due to camping trip)
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!
David Barr Feb 2014
Shall we drown together in deep lagoons of forensic cognitions, my seductress of medieval echelons?
As your mouth is already full, I strongly recommend that you masticate that which you initially intended to ingest.
We could become spellbound by the moon. What do you think my Vedic chant of austere arrhythmias?
I suggest that we simply need to interact without reserve amidst this toxicity of inhibition. The sound of the violin is hauntingly beautiful as it conveys literary intensity.
David Barr Dec 2013
Do you perceive the deep crack within the fulcrum of the universe?
Daylight and darkness blend into a hypnagogic and hallucinatory kaleidoscope, where the art of fantasy rises from oceanic depths in the form of a seductress who rides upon the wings of a horned god.
We could even enter into meaningful discourse, as we contemplate psychoactive echelons of spiritual intensity?
Are you hungry?
Nigdaw Apr 2022
if ever you wondered what purgatory
looked like, it's here
whatever these poor ******* did
they have paid
in spades
here on forgotten streets
among the flotsam and jetsam
drifting
from the higher echelons of society
this is Skid Row
the lowest you can go
doorway to hell
Skid Row is everywhere
K Balachandran Feb 2015
Colors of love, I've never seen was painted on my heart by her,
lust sublimated,was the primer she preferred as the base to start,
music of love, she conducted, played in the background day and night
caressed me softly, made the colors dry, made it remain there ever
my wounded heart, demanded only love, nothing more from her
but she made it her piece of interest, for her million desires to adore

Her alchemy transformed it to gold, that never would lose it's sheen,
used all her riches excavated, from the valley of her placid mind,
to embellish and make it an invaluable dowry chest for her, ever
the skies cloudless,I was tranquil,her love made me feel elated,
on her, the wave-less lake I perfectly reflected, even at dark nights,

What else would make one dedicate, all mind commands,to her
and all flights of soul to higher echelons were inspired by her,
isn't that state, one knows as bliss, we are bound together by that .
Aaron LaLux Apr 2018
Wake,
stretch,
give thanks,
stay blessed,

yoga is a daily meditation,
that always beats a head depression,

mix my asanas with vegetables,
but no pasta nah because I’m gluten free,
stay hydrated and celebrated because I made it,
out of the gutter and into the upper echelons of society,

now I practice Jiu-Jitsu,
with the Gracies in Beverly Hills,
now I’ve got beautiful guy friends,
and amazing lover girls,

see these hands and massage your tensions,
or they can choke you into submission,
I could plant a seed that gives birth to life,
or I could take a life away in 8 seconds,
we can give life and taketh away,
I’d say it’s all just a matter of intention,
and they say that necessity,
is the mother of all inventions,

shout out to Plato for coming up with that one,
as we mold our future like Play Doh,
see we literally made everything we have,
we are literally our own creators,

it’s incredible what we can manifest,
as cliche as that sounds,
see you are the Master of your own destiny,
you decide if you win or lose,

every morning is a new day and a new chance to choose,

don’t let Yesterday’s regrets,
hold you back from Tomorrow’s goals,
get rid of any addiction you might have,
if that addiction doesn’t serve the soul,

see maybe reincarnation is real,
or maybe it’s not,
either way you’re alive right now,
and right now this life is all you’ve got,

to live your life,
that’s why they call it living,
and give thanks before every meal,
as if every meal is Thanksgiving,

see I have a saying,
if you don’t thank God for your blessings,
then you’ll soon have no more blessings,
to thank God for,

so give thanks,
not only to God but to your friends,
and not only to your friends,
but also to your self,

stay focused,
be true,
and remember this is only advice,
ultimately it’s all up to you,

so what are you going to do,
what choices are you going to make,
are you going to be one of the Real Ones that shine,
or are you just going to be another fronting fake,

choose wisely,
and over all be good,
give thanks nightly,
remember to rest well,

get as much sleep as you need,
so you can awake refreshed,
pay attention to your dreams,
and let go of all regrets,

wake,
stretch,
give thanks,
stay blessed.

∆ LaLux ∆

New Book Is FREE To Read & Download Here: www.scribd.com/document/367036005
New Book Is FREE To Read & Download Here: www.scribd.com/document/367036005/The-Sydney-Sessions-12-Steps
Roland Dulwich Feb 2012
Thoughts pass through my mind like a cold breeze; Whispered words
from two with unknown soubriquets speaking of choices that I don't yet understand.
Or do not want to.
Their ideas are like turbulent puddles in the darkest of caves or the desolate trails at the very end of the antipodes. The very thought of them is to perceive a near future where there is only weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Perhaps this is the stair which I dare not descend.
But am I to sit and wait and hear the sounds of eternities collapsing into nothing before I step onto the rickety echelons of uncertainty?
I can feel it. For as long as there has been rain mingling with the red earth of my heart, it has always been sunny
in my mind.
Probably the first poem I have put my inner feelings into. See if you can guess what it's about
- Roland
David Barr Apr 2015
As we run with this extravagant hunt, donned in fine apparel, our forefathers are said to be effectively communicated through the aristocratic echelons of our contemporary excuse of societal connectedness.
However, my meridians ache with this eternally echoing façade, where those insignificant mongers of presumed energy exert their influence and pronounce fabrications of various and mystical cravings.
Therefore, it is important to understand those infantile proclamations, which are inert in their inarticulate and disengaging philosophies.
The sheer magnetism of our awkward interactions is not dissimilar to a child who has been caught in the midst of a forbidden action.
It is all about tidal hemispheres, don’t you think?
eeriewisdom Oct 2015
my essence hides on season tides
that watch my flock with eyes hawk wide
the hills, the trees, the harmonies
reside inside the endless seas
swimming through the timing to
the cliffs of peace that god once knew
we stand and scream atop life's seam
and animate this clockwork dream

freedom lies in love's warm hold
a trying tale the ages told
these shackles be but soon undone
and thus the bliss and I breathe one
we sew the skies and weave the ground
and drink the love that's all around
a bodiless embodiment
of all of nature's gold intent

I'll meet you here when your time comes
and vibrate still with beating drums
a goodbye glance that stills your heart
the end ends here; extends your start
of all the angels, echelons
and mighty kings that bring the dawns
I'm glad it's you who saved me from
the welcome words that aren’t well come

but time is short and must I say
we'll meet again one fateful day
my grace resides until your end
much love my love, my heart, my friend
David Barr Apr 2014
Reflections in a shimmering puddle of stagnant water depict the vulgarity of political orchestras.
I dare you to venture into the crypt, where ancient spirits enter souls with timeless agonising and lament for netherworld regions of entrapment.
Trust me, my medieval Knight of notorious reputation – we will conquer the enemy within the dungeons of Hades.
Resolution is laid bare before the echelons of a beautiful and acoustic ballad, where drabness of spirit tantalises the soul with tearful validity.
We have a level of command which is like a classical symphony, where horsemen bring pillage to those who rebel against the King.
This is an omen, my fellow patron of oblivious decorum.
David Barr Jun 2015
It is necessary that we mourn the loss of courageous and liberal oratory genius, which has articulated wisdom across socio-economical strata within the echelons of aristocratic deception.
Our reason is characterised by far-reaching shores which lie beyond the predictability of Northern terrains within the clearances of a steadfast spirit.
Therefore, listen to the conference of autumnal foliage, as they cast their biopsychosocial formalities, which crackle upon the European political pathways upon which we traverse.
I love your red roots, which unravel a bouquet of scandalous refreshment where percentile volume is consumed within the glass of a bared soul.
Resolution is likened to a scientifically twelve-stringed classical portrayal of integrity.
Let us not forget the appetites of those predators, who feast upon defamation of character.
A coalition is an alliance of various parties who converge into an eclectic conglomerate, where the credibility of your being rests in the jaws of a seductive vampire.
So, as we travel across this conveyor belt of dismissed proclamation, we must acknowledge and embrace our unleashed restraint.
Justin Oberstadt Mar 2019
Who is it
That lit the first flame,
On the darkest night,
Of our final day?

Who is it
That committed a heinous sin-
As the destruction of our humanity
Laid curse to all our kin.

What might become of us
As we walk blindly into darkness?

Will we redeem our begotten souls,
Or leave our redemption to the tales of old?

What burdens shall we carry?
How many millenniums will it take?
Will we succumb to our suffrage-
Or fulfill our forgotten fate?

They say it was long ago
That we crafted the glory of the gods
Stripped souls built their thrones
As we lay hollow, and broke

Dante traveled through the echelons of the afterlife
And returned with tragic tales of our irrefutable eternity
Whether we lay to waste in the River Styx
Or exist solemnly in our blissful ignorance

We conceived poetry, and literature
The likes of which the world had never seen
We told stories of prophets and fiends
All to detail our enigmatic intrigue


Unbeknownst to us we betrayed ourselves
Separate stories became separate beliefs
Bearing swords, we wrought bloodshed
Payment for prejudice, collected by grief

We led crusades, and jihads
As death of men reeked in the fields
Children were taught love, and affection
Years later, we sent them armed to the battlefields

Prophets practiced *******
Politicians purged families for power
The poor became mindless and meek
The covetous grew stronger,
as they overpowered the weak

The tales of our dreaded destiny disappeared
As our humanity crumbled before us
Our dilapidated divinity was lost to the ages
And heaven and hell, left quietly at a cusp

Perhaps we should pray, just one final time
And reach out to the heavens
For our humanity is dying...

Our beloved father, are’t thou still in heaven?
Might we still utter thy hallowed name?
Might thy kingdom come-
And your will be done?

The forsaken are many
And the gates of hell are unleashed
The oceans have turned to acid
And the earth crumbles beneath our feet

Will you forgive us our lord?
For the sins we have made?
Are we still redeemable?
Or will we succumb to the shade?

All remained quiet, for so long, we waited on his word
But the stories were stories,
and I suppose that’s all they really were.
David Barr Mar 2014
I have travailed over the foresight of previous decades where we balanced upon the brink of trauma.
The end is just the beginning.
Coal fires emit a wonderful fragrance and they cast flickering shadows where thought-provoking sexuality displays her wanton brilliance across the walls of contemporary debauchery, don’t you think?
As snowflakes fall across strata’s of lost innocence, let us contemplate echelons of depravity where solitary existence is characterised by gallant company in the English countryside of Georgian extravagance.
The female servants flutter their extended eyelashes at ******* gentry, whilst social mores dictate the silence of rage.
Prepare the horses, oh sanguine being of unspeakable beauty. You and me: we need to talk.
lloyd britton Feb 2015
A surging, endless lamentation,
Of past mistakes created.
A shrill eternal ululation,
Never to be sedated.

Visions through a fish eyed lens,
Full of unwavering scope.
Kaleidoscopic patterns descends,
Organic structures full of hope.

As the patterns turn over and under,
Weaving themselves in delicate filigree.
Colour and shape blended asunder,
Emerges the silhouette of an ancient tree.

Bearing fruit that initiates elation,
And sweet nectar that electrifies.
Flowers bloom, ornate decoration,
A tribute to the ethereal beauty that it supplies.

Golden flavoured aromatic vapours rise,
Bioluminescence glowing grand.
Its purpose difficult to surmise,
Growing graciously tall it does stand.

Then violently the tree it does ******,
Itself from its essence.
Leaving us with ourselves to trust,
In our veracious nescience.

It’s branches and leaves now just a memory.
The after taste seems so bitter,
And with it leaving a given summary,
Of our concepts that dither and flitter.

A trembling realisation.
Show me your soul and I’ll show you mine.
Torrid and flustered anticipation,
As we gaze at one another our hearts align.

Hold onto that moment,
In its singularity benign.
Postponing atonement,
Clutching on to the supposed divine.

Pragmatic paradigm shift.
From the echelons of infinity.
Negativity gently drift,
As we accept our divinity.
Syafiq Jun 2017
Speak to the stars
To the upper echelons of the world
They said; behind your stick of tar
It's better that you marvel

Do you ever see your eyes change color?
A little extra light
A difference ever so subtle.
Maybe it's your soul?
Fighting to be seen
Yearning to be known

The haze I see grows around your face,
Like a halo of slight
debauchery framing chestnut eyes.
Take this moment and let it fly
We're going to take it far

Speak to the stars, they said
May you capture your dreamscape
Jett Bleue Mar 2013
I thought I seen his face today,
But it was gone to some place between time and space.
Into the vast infinite skyline where the upper echelons wine and dine.

His soft brown hair flopped here and there,
As he used to declare his love for the fresh British air.
His black European eyes would stare into the clouds telling me that one day he’d take me there.

Whatever was hidden underneath the façade, it was hidden well.
Between the confines of his mind,
That must have been hell.
His own personal prison cell.

The words he spoke bounce off the walls as they echo through my haunted halls.
I think I see his shadow yet, when I wake in the night, cold with sweat.
But when I turn on the light there's no silhouette.
He’s gone.
He’s out of sight.

When I think of what I could have said and what I could have done.
I realise I could have never understood where it all begun.
But when I think of what I could have said and what I could have done.
I realise I could have saved someone’s son.
lloyd britton Apr 2015
From the fertile womb of aeons gone by,
The untold truths hidden in time,
Crash down plummeting from the sky,
In ceaseless interpretive mime.

From the gateways of karma,
And the echelons of rebirth,
Reveals the cognitive dharma,
In merriment and mirth.

The fabled dragons of puce,
Ignites the torches and reveals the path,
Undulating footsteps with music to ******,
Treading carelessly as we laugh.

All through life’s journey so blissful,
Learn to use language to your advantage,
Allow lies to be under your dismissal,
And we’ll get by, we’ll manage.
David Barr Feb 2015
There is something releasing about an expression of eclectic cynicism which is not divorced from an acoustic reality.
I have my PhD in testing times, and appreciate my role in helping to bring wisdom to the naïve.
However, we both know, that those from seemingly prestigious social echelons are also immersed in an oblivion of denial and Great Western dreams.
Idonotexist Apr 2015
A sonorous bell rings,
between my eyes,
drenching the senses.

Vibrations travel
till the toes,
a drop of blood,
floats away surpassing
the bounds of time,
trickling through the
winter mist, a blanket
of responsibility, insulates
the hidden vow,
into the lower echelons of mind
pure and untouched.

A dried fallen leaf,
still triggers memories
and the jolt awakens me
briefly  and the entities
of problem challenge opportunities
fade into vacant spaces of
love smiles and beauty
BB Tyler Nov 2012
Though the names of deities
shall echo through echelons eternal
the nature of their faces
will be never
on our
tongues.

And yet…

Even on the tip I forget.
Dustin Dean Apr 2018
Time to trade in
Old Father Tyme
For a concept
Of consistence

Ultimate resolutions begin
In desolate institutions
They rest in their pods
Comfortably numb
With contentment
For their mission
Is now accomplished
Voluntarily, they line up
Into echelons of space
Giving themselves back
To an entrance
That coughed them out

The curtain has closed
And a chapter has ended
Yet their presence
Still echoes on
nico papayiannis Feb 2016
The sound of peace silenced by a thousand guns at war
Silenced by a thousand voices with words they have used before
The avenues of unity and humanity, no longer do the voices explore
My heart and my soul they suffer , I bleed with the torture from within, the actions of so many I so deplore
Serenity subdued, quite conveniently quashed, the hands of the perpetrators so easily washed ,those who seek, left behind left out there in the wild the bleak, voiceless and destitute, forever free,and forever resolute
The sound of peace is the noise of those  who endure, those whose thoughts lean towards pure, maddened by the monstrosity of life with its parade of parasites, a disease with no cure, the sound of white noise  to keep peace from your door
The sound of peace the crying of an orphan child, a refugee before he's turned three, the politics of peace in the land of his father, is the sound of desolation, a way to dampen and eradicate the sound of inspiration, this sad child knows only a sound so wild, the sound of a land viciously *****, and from its pavements of beggars, streets of vagrants , it can never be scraped.
The sound of our sovereignty, the sound of our ruling state, the sound of a cash machine, the sound of another devious deal declared, into the dark hours of deceit the sound of brokers exchanging gifts as they fictitiously negotiate
The sound of our country, the sound of our victory, the sound of our old dying in care homes fit only for dying rats, the sound of the nhs run by pompous over paid blood ******* fat cats, as patients and nurses suffer, they continue to help each other, the sound of our great land, whispers and secret deals with the upper echelons who have always had the upper hand,
The sound of now , this modern age , the sound of your child crying at 42, faced with a torture of finance , a restraint of  existence and excess responsibility, no reason to be no reason to do, more so than ever a slave to the wage that seems to furnish so much more for others, you can only sit by and listen to the sound of brothers killing brothers
Our greatest new age noise the suicide inducing tremor of look at what we have created and how it is so silent those who turned out as the great gift of capitalism was celebrated, silent if it were not for the greatest noise you can hear, it grows and grows void of any past fabled fear
mikecccc Jul 2015
An ill found everywhere
especially prevalent in society's
higher echelons
but the lower folk are not free
from its effects
do as I say
not as I do
perhaps its simply
a human foible
and no cure is available
aside from awareness
like so many woes.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2021
if i thought that prostitutes coming in at £2 per minute was bad... that's £120 per hour... the "engineers" at my local bicycle wholesaler come in at... £10 for 5 minutes work... changing the tube of a deflated tire... to hell with that... i'm going to invest in some tools... do it myself... walking past the shops in the mall while it rained... work... loitering... work... loitering... why is retail so... undermining the body? oh... i imagine escape with the mind is no good either... work as loitering... flick of the switch... it's hardly construction site antics of roofing... i'd sooner hang myself... but it's not like i can **** myself off... it's great that both she and me can boast about keeping personal hygiene to a zenith... complete shock when she performed ******* with rubber... pleasant shock... about five storms brewed in the sky over London while i hit a flat tyre near Rainham... well... what to do? walk the **** back... 4 miles...  but a thought arose...

i've heard this complaint... several times...
it's worded in many variations...
but the gist of it has the following words
arranged, thus:
i don't want to "merely" exist... i want to live!
Frankenstein had the same bother...
perhaps Frankenstein's angst makes sense
since it was conjured up by a woman...
while Frankenstein is burdened with existence:
per se...
he still pursues "life"...
ex-instance: out of, every - every(!) instance...
i was taking out the garbage:
massive freak for recycling...
i usually put out a ratio of 4 to 1...
orange recycling bags to one... slim... black...
bin-bag of recyclables...
i'm currently someone else's *****...
Pimm's... i'm pretty sure some ancient
Greek philosopher had a saying about
drinking someone else's alcohol...
oh... it's ease now...
but i know what i'm looking for...
it's only that much easier:
Diogenes the Cynic...
oddly enough it makes sense...
i feel like an English girl teasing her virginity:
long... long ago lost...
teasing with white lies...
talking nonsense during ***...
i **** like an animal: mute...
well.. if she let's me ******* inside of her...
oh... it happens once every half a decade...
do "they" have to speak during
*******: last words most poignant
where: in her bedroom...
'what would my father think
while i'm ******* you off...'
do i look like Oedipus... dearest Electra?
talk is beyond cheap during *******...
how about you show me your tongue...
as almost forever:
my eyes turn into two mouths...
my mouth turns into a socket
whereby my tongue becomes an eye...
while my head is sliced open
and a grand ear is lodged into the space
once occupied by fast-phlegm-of-brain:
freeze: i can remotely remember a 10 year old
moi leveraging the following statement:
i can't hear silence...
those words: exact...
i can't hear silence...
god i love to drink... what lot of life...
i love drinking more than:
perhaps if i loved ******* more i'd have
all the grazed knees and greased elbows
to go forth: into the world... with a pledge
of Darwinian beauty to: stare down
the stereotypical male archetype of:
spreading my d.n.a.
that one Thai surprise i picked up on a park
bench... enough strong beer
and enough jazz and she was... sloppy ***...
she even gave me a totem to remember
her while i dressed her in my shirt she
disappeared into while walking her home...
i ******* into my hand: rather than into her...
last time i checked Darwinism has no
place in the Freudo-Jungian schematic of
the atomised man...
consciousness is a flimsy affair...
given any focus for thought: ought-i? ought-i-not?
but still the angst of Frankenstein...
such burdens from mere existence...
such burdens that have to be translated
into... the pursuit of life...
me? i'm at the opposite end of the spectrum...
whatever happened when
Jason v. Michael took place...
well... what happened when
Frankenstein's (monster) took up a challenge
with Sisyphus...

it's the same old complaint:
by people who... come to think of it...
will not squeeze that much out of life
should they arrive at: "living" and not merely
"existing"...
however...
like today... with a flat tyre...
watching the sky for the direction
of the opera in the sky:
there was the thunder...
like a grunting... grumbling...
an empty... fasting stomach in the sky...
no lightning... i walked wishing to be struck dead
by a stroke of hey-zeus...

i remember that i exist:
more than i project the fact...
i remember that i exist...
more than i project that i do...

it has to be a mantra akin to: memento mori(a)...
by then it's impossible to love
or assert a posit for life
within the grounds of: well... it's not like
this will ever end...
watching the gymnastics: women... mostly...
no sorry ****** would attempt to undertake
the beam...
oh look... no need for only-fans:
but if all you're selling is...
selling bodygood-me-body-good-you...
that's fine...
what these girl gymnasts do...
what female tennis players get up to...
do girls really need to box?
**** it... let's see...
i'm asking for a compost of...
plum cherry and a prune...
i'm not going to paint those archaic
faces... dissolved under a niqab... just on a whim...
if they want a cat fight without nails all
manly: fists clenched:
let them... have... it!

i still don't understand the "underbelly" of
an argument that says:
existence is less than "life":
life's ****...
a flat tire and walking 4 miles while i
could have cycled 10 miles more
reduced me to a silence of the mind that re(a)d:
don't even bother thinking...
don't even try turning this inot
a cognitive narrative...
where's your pen? where's your paper?

all the greatest poignancies of essence
of life are encapsulated within the posit "bloopers"
of existence: per se...
life is ****... life is trivial...
i exist without pardon:
i recoil at seeing a maggot or a snail
or a spider...
my beginnings are hardly...
******* anaemic tadpole...

      to merely grasp the fact of existence...
will Frankenstein's monster argue:
subsequently: a life is necessary...
the life... well we all know what
the upper echelons of society prescribe:

let's be mean: "us": the poet gets... **** all...
the restaurant critic gets...
an umbrella for the rain...
paid load: newspapers...
toilet-paper should cost more than...
what weekend newspapers have to offer:
lazily bypassing dialectics...

i exist... a fact i remember from time to time...
i exist: it's not something i project forward...
life's... life is... pretty much **** in between...
but how people complain:
the mere fact of... midnight air...
while cycling to the brothel...
no... breathing itself: taking a ****...
that's not enough...
even eating... not enough...
the joys from the spices...
the cinnamon... not enough:
people, just... want... "life"...
by life... that implies invoking other people
to share your: "presence":
by that time... the people of want...
are... wanton... i don't want to be surrounded
by people who...

reminding oneself of being the recipient
of existence...
is... well... life fulfilling: in-itself...
i might not fly a F16 fighter jet...
or... make a cosmic trip to the moon...
but... i can provide a rhythm to
the pulse of a roundabout when i engage
with it on a ******* bicycle!
i like using much larger objects to my advantage...
a bus will sloth out from the starting
grid much slower...
what do i do?
i linger behind... i can match up its momentum...
fun fun fun...

within the categorization of "life" counter
"existence": by life i probably have to imply:
"essence"... and all that debacle:
does essence come before existence
or does existence come before essence?

i don't care much for "life": life is complicated:
life is drama... life is soap opera engagement...
life is disappointment...
existence... on the other hand...
reminiscence... spontaneity...
the full acquisition of the faculty of memory:
it's not that i must remember that i'm:
worm-food... i must know it...
knowledge of death must be burning at
my ******* groin...
it's not good merely focusing on memorising
that fabric of future events:
to remember death implies:
reincarnation... i'm not a big fan of reincarnation...
reincarnation implies:
zombies and only a fixed number
of worthy people jumping from body to body...
it implies:
the soul as being parasitical...
all of animation being parasitical...
this animation will never transcend
beside mere body toward a collective pursuit...

sure... call it something else...
if not soul then sigma or anima...
if you've ever seen a dead body in the morgue...
you'd know: this façade...

eh... i love to drink... i love to drink because:
even though i've love to **** a little bit more...
drinking never leaves me disappointed...
perhaps somehow... melancholic...
at the introspections i find...
to **** like the prowess of a game stallion...
that would require... doing the bidding of
other people... including myself:
i like to drink in order to undermine myself...
so drinking comes first...
******* comes second...
ambition is... long gone by the time i sieve
through all the music i want to listen to...
the books i want to read... sometimes i do:
read the books i want to... read...

hmm.. ****... humpf..
she has like a Lamborghini... a stomach like
a Genie...
what could existence possibly afford me?
the scent of cinnamon...
the taste of pint of Guinness...
a well constructed curry sauce...
life... on the other hand... "life":
a persistence of disappointment...
that i might have to share all these pleasures...
halve them...

why did it arrive in the mind of the most
atomised man that: essence comes prior
to existence?
there's nothing essential about existence...
there's only the existential existence...
scrap heap of: go toward the fabric of:
the in-between...
lately i stopped minding inter-racial
breeding antics...
given 2nd or 3rd "half-caste" inter-breeding:
depends on a woman's disgruntled taste...
wash up on the shores
of the sandpaper cliffs...
still not pickling ******* symbols in the juices
of ****...

you come across sandpaper skin...
these mulattos will fizzle out...
but i get it... if i were strapped to a whitey
beached whale... i'd want to be black...
otherwise all this... little bit of me...
cycling losing weight makes...
absolutely no... sense...
how did the black guys phrase it back
in high-school: more cushion for the pushing...
no wonder... if i were acquisitive of a 12"
phallus... i'd want... enough ***
to penetrate for her thrill: met...

hence my ***** envy disappears...
i'm left with beard envy...
oh god... chest and the whole worth of torso
a pirate's envy of kidding with pepper...

'i want to live! i don't want to merely exist!'
can one, merely...exist?
oh sure... one can live:
without ever once reaching for
clarifying what's essential to be alive...
to exist? i'm pretty sure that's missing on most people...
i like to rub my fingers on bricks...
tarmac... before i enter a brothel
and touch a *******'s body...
i like to impress myself with the sensation
of imitation: blind... when i read her body...

such that it makes sense...
the verve: lucky man...
a sing-along sort of a song...

let it flow: allow the walking abortions: oh wait...
too late: already conceived...
but thank god for the Olympics...
the male swimmers have the sexiest bodies...
not the sprinters... the swimmers...
much ado about the torso...
but it's so gladdening watching the Olympics...
all body: shapes and sizes
are... sized up...

the body build-up to swim
is not the same sort of a body
associated with lifting weights...
or performing judo...
or sprinting... or undertaking the high-jump...
if one British athlete decides to "take the ******* knee":
Olympics is ruled by a spirit of: all-inclusivity...
you testify racism at the Olympics...
you testify that... Jesse Owens didn't make
****** uncomfortable at the 1933 Olympics...

you bring your politics to the Olympics:
you best cancel Olympics...
sure... take the knee...
take two... i'll gladly kneecap you while
you're at it... just to make sure you forget
both running at a sprint... or walking...
black racists  will not undermine
a healthy atmosphere of:
some of us are born lesser...
some of us are born superior...
all of us aim at managing what we're best at...

me, drinking... no... i hardly think anyone
can match up to me...
i persist to drink yet retain a pedantic attitude
in relation to spelling, punctuation...
i say: ******* from posit A...
rekindle... eastern Africans... Kenyans...
are much darker than western Africans...
Nigerians... no wonder that among
the macaques i was admiring...
ivory beauties...
i forgot their skin colour:
coconut oil in the moonlight...
i was reminded of their teeth and the sclera
of their eyes...

itchy... ******* itchy... i'm so itchy...
itch after itch... i'm itching... itchy...
     itchy... i'm galvanized by some ulterior motif
of a reflex i won't be able to control..
i'll plead: not-guilty....
not because i am...
                  but to conjure enough
dissonant-custard of...
readily accessed pie-bypass that: i will not:
readily give... itchy... itchy... always with this
*******: itch!
Yenson Apr 2019
A man that slimes have spent over 25 years
trying to frustrated, drive mad and to suicide
laughs and takes the mickey out of simpletons
says that his big **** and amazing bed skills
has caused an epidemic of demented sad men
and hysterical deluded females suffering from
mad cows disease.

Please know the lower echelons find that ***
is their only cheap entertainment as money is tight
Now if we allow that Stallion to get our women
we will have nothing left for us and that can't happen
moreover these men from the lower echelons
know that they are pretty ******* in bed
they are not bright and good *** starts in the brain

so solidarity is our weapon here
we must oppose this Stallion and stop the women
from ******* this stallion ever, that's our aim
we can only last two minutes and that's long to us
but the women need longer and we can't manage that
that man with the big **** can go for 30 minutes
we must make sure we stop this beast horse man.
this poem was inspired by laughing to much about the antics of some yobs and morons who are so brain dead, insecure and under confident that real men frightens them to death.
Johnsdavidburg Apr 2018
Pride with no empathy
Psychopathic and anti-social
A cynic with no morality
Selfish and remorseless
Intelligent without compassion
Successful without apology
A chameleon of all things manipulative
These are the leadership qualities
Of all upper echelons of societies
They always have been, they always will be
Hidden traits integral
To the fast life type of strategies
Kelly McManus Aug 2023
Upper echelons
the worlds inequality
is chained by command...Kelly McManus
Das Don Auld (can hard tank
tucker son of Carl, and leave
landscape barren) calling out
rigged ken tuckered hoarfrost race,
viz demolition derby presaging

death to White Anglo Saxon
democracy DOMS (delayed
onset muscle soreness)
minions decry diplomacy,
crass denunciation of
Stacey Abrams

liberally Apple eyeing jingoistic rhetoric
declare defamation directly
upon disparate grass roots
hegemony, hectoring, heckling,
and harassing humble horse

sense, asper progressive
democrats holstering, hitching
vis a vis rays in the sky,
no fault in our stars,
harnessing healthy,

honesty, humility plowing,
sowing, and tilling political
terrain at expense tubby
damnably cruelly,
brutally, nagged, branded,

and whipped malevolently,
mercilessly, and mischievously
lambasted by fourth grade
vocabulary level commander
in chief exuding: haughtiness,

doughy bully pronouncing
prescriptions provisioning
one percent pampered
population attending one
tan man hat tin galavanting

ego inflating functions
exploiting downtrodden
under most class "dirt poor"
bilked proletariat segment.

Pinnacle (topping Taj Mahal),
now owns Birds eye
bourgeoisie view, which
informs hawkish word
smiths, onlookers with
powerfully pointed excel

lent access, sans zealous,
Vociferous, uxorious
tyrannical reigning Rex
less lee pugnacious noxious
loose xenophobic,
jabberwocky, demagoguery
laced jargon surly *******,

quizzically, pugilistic-allied,
outrageously punching
imaginary nemesis, linkedin
with instagram, snapchat
twittering skulking arch

conservative enemies
clandestinely undermining
(bone a fide skulduggery)
ambitions to turn back
figurative clock, applauding,
cobbling, count sole ling

commander in chief to
reboot, remake, and retry
to restore American (post
world war II) hit parade
soundtrack resonating

with ardent blatant
bigotry, colored blinders,
devilish foo fighting
patriotism, nepotism, localism,
gerrymandered, jury rigged
Russian hijacked pollster
precincts, nativism milking

titillating conspiracy theorists,
denouncing radical ambidextrous
righteous leftists, silencing
second amendment agent
challenges provocateurs,
lake woebegone raconteurs,

and saboteurs infiltrating
highest echelons with spooky
intelligent poseurs, and green
lighting one man plutocrat
steamrolling aborted blackened
civil disobedience (Thoreau Lee)
walled in reproductive rights.
Im envious of Bermuda.
Her triangle is so deeply recognized.
I am caught in the "this is me now" in the face of who I should've been, and who I thought I'd be.
Cathedrals stacked to the stars
Like for Margaret.
And that you don't know this reference is the perfect epithet.
But how can I place my weight against the scale?
Imperial? Metric? Metaphysical?
What is the search for a sense of self
If not a desperate notion to understand our gravity?
I'm grave, for the far too many I've buried and the far more whom found a mausoleum in me, secure in my secrets.
In theory buried with me, but buried within me, and that is far too great a weight to put on dirt and rock and mantle.
I won't be buried.
Not because I could not keep them but because of kindness in grief, and in the ground isn't safe for these stories to rest, lest, and list - oh list... they die with me never to be uninterred by graverobbers or corporate land barons seeking to build a new golf course.
If the earth had to bear the gravity of conscious existence, she would implode like a fledgling star.
I doubt humans are alone in the universe, but I'd honestly get it - such a mistake...
For evolutionary crafted monkees to dare say this is Me and bend the world and rules around us, mostly by seeking an understanding of those rules...
And then turning them to profit. How human.
Fools, all of us.
Slaves, indentured to the tide of society.
I thought the progression of civilization was to move forward.
The things we'd learned from the dark ages - foolish and desperate attempts to cling to what we thought of as power.
But what happens when power evolves?
It certainly has exceeded us by the boundless laws of physics.
We relent and release in deference to the "please lead me" through questionable times
No one questioning that we brought this unto ourselves
A marooned ship a mile from paradise but destined it it's ignorance to sink.
Nothing, spirit or body, would intelligently design this.
At the very least if the concept of God was not just metaphorical but an ecumenical argument that we should be better...
Why the need to argue at all?
We are perfect imperfections of random chance and about 4 pounds
Of mostly wet pretty much bacon
Electrified like an sophomoric Frankenstein
And most of us haven't even read Mary Shelley
We are a species so magnetic to ourselves.
Watch what we can do.
Even if we shouldn't do it.
Maybe I'll just do it to see what my neighbor does.
And so the echelons grow.
To a maximum order of magnitude 13.
If everyone tells two friends
And those two can only tell two others
With no repeats
Only 13 times can a story be shared before it exceeds the maximal population of our planet.
Only 13 times can a paper be folded in half until you breach space.
Life...
It's a poorly dreamed up pyramid scheme.
I've evidently started writing again.
Michael John Nov 2018
now i feel guilty
had he been
from here or there
would say the same..

because the class barrier
transcended everything
except love..
i doubt that she

would take her kit off..
however
that was a brave move
society as a microcosm

in a confined ocean liner..
the poor would be *******
below
and in the upper echelons
no se..

but there would be little
interaction..
still,romance..
there is death..

if the whole thing awful
and small loss
what would be the point..
the muscians played on..
Dustin Dean Oct 31
The fields of gold—
Looking grave
as past faces
caught up quickly,
smothering any presence
with smoldering reminders.

Alas, the echelons of memories
stood tall, like soldiers
steadfast, unwavering
to the imminent fall.

They remind him of his reflection,
belabored by reality’s labor.
Lines buried in sand,
etched onto his head—
burning coals of souls
that throttle his legs into motion.

He runs, and runs,
coerced to send the sun
his kinetic aspirations,
to deflect and reflect,
to dissolve prophecies beleaguered.

For it is he
who devises the Devil
of his own doing.
Yenson Nov 2018
From their base perspectives Ha-ha union funfool
We will play with colours and swings in our reign
Simpleton's chicanery devises to turn black wool
Into alchemy's fleecy soft White fleece by design

Compound asinine seek to manipulate emotions
We are ruling in absolute terms from our nonsensical
The theory of ignorant illiterates mass hysteria notions
Hate some and the whole race is ****** as if that's ethical

Paintings by numbers of the dumb Groupthink idioticals
If like us he's not panting for Stella then he must want Adam
Does one dignify such stupidity that vias so far from skeptical
Witness odious minds full of putrid **** that ranks like Edam

Someone said stop explaining to the rancid Narcissists
They can only understand from the level of their perceptions
Lower echelons or racists do not understand bioethicists
Mindless hysterical Mobs are mindless without exceptions

— The End —