Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Z Aug 2018
Too many thoughts, too many feelings, too many faces

Yea, what’s the feeling of success?
Achieved so many things, but all I feel is regret,
I feel alone inside my head what don’t you get?
Wake up every morning like it’s still my set,
Reminisce on where I come from so I don’t forget,
Been to rehab a dozen times, they called me a vet,
You thought you knew me, I haven’t opened the curtains yet

Alcohol destroyed all my relationships
Forgot most of my life - except for the video clips,
Poisoned my brain to forget the pain, on the daily I feel insane
I’m above the ground though I can’t complain, god relieve this pain
I feel like I drank the blood of Cain,

Every day is a surprise, my brain tells me I’m so wise,
But he’s a master in disguise, while I’m the one who cries,
He’s the one who lies,
To me in my own voice watching my demise,
When he’s in in control anything flies,
It scares me, I built a fortress to disguise,
This out of control mind, I want to cut the ties
A Broad perception, in a beautiful world, through these eyes,

Try to express my feelings, no one can understand
**** it no one can, this experience is mine god had it planned
Just hope I can grow up to be the man,
The one he created to do whatever he can,
Yea, whatever he wants, his drive his will he can make a stand,
A visionary, Socrates his thoughts are grand,

Who do I trust, who I am or who I want to be,
It’s confusing with a devil living inside of me,
Loving spouse, family man what I try to be,
This bipolar got a hold of me,
Blindfolding me I can’t see,
Please doctor doctor set my mind free,
I thought I knew everything with my degree,
The lessons I learned from the things I failed to see,

Mommy and daddy got divorced when I was a kid,
I think I was 8, I can’t remember, who am I to kid,
My first blackout in life, daddy’s about to lose his wife,
So much anger, “he’s” telling me to find the knife,
Take it to the artery just a little slice,
Life’s not as nice, as people make it seem,
No one hears me scream, from the pain,
Inside this brain, some days I feel insane,
110 on the freeway trying to stay in my lane,
Drunk driving no I’m not sane,
Getting high to alleviate the pain

One day I can be the man, goals, driven, and full of will,
The next be full of sadness, regret, life stands still,
I can remember anger that drove me to ****,
You don’t know how I feel,
People probably thought I made a deal,
With the devil to have all this skill,
I write all these thoughts, hoping there’s a heart to fill,

Hope someone can relate,
I hope my pain makes you elate,
My perceptions not up for debate,
Here is my life there’s no room to understate,
The reality of my life and the things on my plate,
Strive to be in a mentally stable state,
Sometimes life’s not so great,
My minds locked in a crate, and he is the key holder of my fate,

My life feels like an afterthought,
Stepdad thought love was something that could be bought,
Used to get in trouble every time I got caught,
Only if they knew the realism of what I did, or maybe they ought
Not to know, but for the sake of the flow, I’m going to let go,
Put on a show so they finally understand what they missed long ago,

Let’s start as a little boy, all the love you showed was a decoy,
For the truth that mommy and daddy were ready to destroy,
Split us up, brown moving boxes was it all momma’s ploy?
I still don’t know the truth, I don’t want to ask or annoy

They say they fell out of love, how can you fall out of love,
Unless you gave up? Don’t you realize who’s above,
Poor American white family, three kids and divorced, man the stereo type fits like a glove,
Never got physically, but always received a verbal shove,
Psychologically I wish I could dispose of,
This garbage that’s left behind, in this mind how am I supposed to give away free love,


One day at a time, one fight, I’m going to give it all my might,
Serenity prayer please give me the light,
To accept my life and guide me right,
Some days things are out of sight,
God comfort me so I feel alright,
I’m shrouded in darkness, call me the dark knight,
Noble I’m my cause, daily life’s a plight,

As a teenager I survived off my drive,
Then there was the day I didn’t want to be alive,
Locked those feelings deep in the archive,
Padlocked in the deep parts of the brain so they don’t thrive,
Questioning the purpose of life when I was five,
Asked about space and God, curiosity already took a dive,
Most people and me don’t really jive,
One instinct on my mind is to survive,
Mania kicking in putting me in overdrive,
Found out when I was twenty-five,
I’m mentally ill, my life took a nose dive,
Time to wake up and revive,
It’s time to deprive,
The addiction and the **** I do to connive,
God im going to work on my life until arrive,
To the kingdom, hopefully I live to see thirty-five,

Todays a new day, no telling what I might do,
Try to hold my family together, backbone and the glue,
Just accept my view, everything’s not about you,
Been self-reflecting, I’m having a break through,
This story is contagious, call it reality flu,
Knocked on deaths door, Alcohol blood volume .492,

What was I thinking? Pores stinking, breath wreaking,
Family and friends shrieking, at all my drinking,
Woke up surrounded by the medical team,
Asked me if I was suicidal, I said what do you mean?
I’m a genius, with a good job, had one since fourteen,
Worked hard my whole life, why am I here confused as hell - creating a scene,
Needle in my arm, threatening to restrain me,
God please set me free, right now you’re the only one that can help me,
Ready to fight the doctors and nurses, now they’re going to petition me,

When I opened up my eyes,
Seen my momma with tears in her eyes,
Most painful look I’ve ever seen on her face,
Now I feel like a huge disgrace, wish she knew gods grace,
My hearts racing at a fast pace, anxiety took over freaking out in this place,
The realest hug ive ever felt was from momma while I was in that room,
Time to clean up my life, time to clear my mind and get out of the back room,
Where my thoughts are locked, time to forgive and bury the in their own tomb,
Most think they know me, and its dangerous to assume,
Most my life you seen me in my costume, hiding behind the monster of doom,
Spent so many hours in my bedroom, drinking so much leaving behind an ethanol fume,
Days later it’s still hanging around, how the poison turns everything into a darkroom.

12 days locked in the psych ward, hopefully I can move my life forward,
Dr. says I had an episode of major depression, I forgot to tell them about my secret obsession,
These words are the closest thing I have to a confession,
When I die take my brain for a case study dissection,
Don’t let my evil said lead you to mis-direction,
When im aware I can make the correction,
What an elusive lie, chasing perfection,
Life is about love and a real connection,
God im tired, give me a symbol give me direction,

Therapy sessions for years, did nothing to help these tears,
Still react with impulsion and anger, watch out for the danger,
the biggest fear ive ever had was the fear of myself,
and the things I was capable of to destroy myself or secure the wealth.
So many secrets it’s a masquerade, im hidden behind my stealth,
The lies created to maintain this alter-ego destroying my mental health,

My biggest pains in life are when I had it all and left it all,
My depression after mania was the biggest fall,
I felt like I was the king of the world, king of the jungle; hear my call,
My ego inflated from my achievements, made me feel tall,
Daddys dream was his oldest boy would play college ball,
Just like the song boys of fall,

Daddys dream wasn’t mine to live,
But that wont stop me from giving all I can give,
Im sorry for the night I was drunk and we got combative,
I shut that night out its not something I want to relive,
Please daddy forgive, now you’re so corroborative.

Now momma I know we do not speak,
The real issue is we don’t want to feel weak,
Why are we so strong, the ones who cant take critique,
Maybe we are so unique, and live life with such technique,
The type of thoughts people think are antique,
Their arguments bleak, our common point is its our mind we speak,

Im ready for the conversation, a common destination,
Where we live in harmony, and actions don’t lead to causation,
I hope my dictation, and the acceptance of your creation,
Allows you to accept me and the ground I call my foundation,
Rebuild our family, together we can create a formation,
Our time and love the only donation, mix em together titration,
It’s a ruination of the family, its everything I wanted it to be,

Ive struggled with every relationship,
With anyone I let close I seem to lose myself and flip the script,
Those evil days I hide in my mind, security equipped and encrypt,
I feel like im writing a manuscript, a story of a man who slipped,
On the struggles of life, and opportunities that have been stripped,

Went to college on a full ride, paid for room and board seen the debt and just about cried,
350 a month to the government talk about a life hurdle that broke my stride,
Since graduation I noticed im the new dr. jekyl and mr hyde,
Success in my life was implied, mental health hit me on my broadside,
Missed my grad school opportunity, I should have applied,
Had love going for me, turned into a landslide,
All I want to do is have a good job and be able to provide,
Im not the only one suffering this epidemic is worldwide,
I just want to sit by the lake side, retire and reside,
Somewhere peaceful where a simple life is implied,
The only downside, is the demon inside me that takes me on the regular for a joyride.

Worked 80 hours a week, drinking a fifth a day,
Most people don’t even know what to say,
To me it was just another day,
Its about to get nasty watch out for the word play,
Life not black and white live in the grey,
Area, mass hysteria, my mind runs astray,
Enough liquor in my blood to make me sway,
One wrong move may be my doomsday,
I write about my life like a final exam essay,
Giving it my all no halfway,
Yea, im making headway, opening the doorway,
For all to enter; serve up my experience like a fine dining entrée,
Living check to check, cant wait for payday,
Maybe someday, ill be on the golden walkway,
To the kingdom of god then ill be okay,
Impulses so strong its hard not to obey,
The other side of me that’s so hard to portray,
When hes manic I get risqué,
Let me paint a picture, get your tickets to the screenplay.

They say its not what you go through, but what you became of it,
My lifes not a stereotype, those stipulations don’t fit,
I seem to get back up after every hit, I couldn’t write this skit,
Im trying to use my ****, my mind feels split, I cant take this ****,
I just want to quit, go to therapy to learn skills and what to omit,
From my life, its hard ill have to admit,
Elementary school I realized I was a misfit,
Dreams in the stars, illuminated and moonlit,
Building a legacy without a permit,
Try to live life so im not a hypocrite.

Shocked by the responses to voice and gods word,
You can say in high school I was a nerd,
Football MVP and valedictorian man that’s absurd,
Wanna know my secret, ask me the password,
Stand on my own, not a part of the heard,
Forgive me for all my problems and troubles that have occurred.

The darkest secret you don’t know,
Is that im not motivated by the dough,
It’s the times where Im feeling high and low,
Sometimes it feels like time is slow,
The biggest crush to my ego,
Was when I had a 20-gauge ready to pull the trigger and blow,
Racking the shells, playing with the ammo,
The rest of my life I was about to forego,
I wanted to let go, because I wanna know
I write to share my story of experience, strength and hope.
In Recovery mentally and Recovering from substance abuse
Benji James Jun 2017
A life has been taken
A light has faded
Touched so many people
Around the world
How could someone
have done this
to such a sweet girl
She brought a warmth
To your soul
A smile from quirky ways
How could someone just go
And take her life away

Ooh Angel rest at ease
Oh Angel just sleep and dream
We will always remember you
And everything it was you did
You accomplished so much
Yes you did, so much joy
So much light
that's what made you shine
Encrypt her in the stars
Yeah remembered forever
Oh Angel just rest at ease
Yeah girl please rest in peace
Just sleep and dream

Something just hit my heart
Something so pure
Gone too soon
God must have something
Big planned for you
Infected so many people
With your quirky ways
Always know how to bring a smile
To another's face
Yeah you held your arms open
to the whole world

Ooh Angel rest at ease
Oh Angel just sleep and dream
We will always remember you
And everything it was you did
You accomplished so much
Yes you did, so much joy
So much light
that's what made you shine
Encrypt her in the stars
Yeah remembered forever
Oh Angel just rest at ease
Yeah girl please rest in peace
Just sleep and dream

How could someone so good
Have such a tragic end
Doesn't that make you want to stop
And rethink absolutely everything
Taken so young,
Had so much left to give
She already gave so much
Hope we can find a way
To shine just as bright
Change the world
With your positive ways
Yeah light up the skies
With all your light
Spread love around the world tonight

Ooh Angel rest at ease
Oh Angel just sleep and dream
We will always remember you
And everything it was you did
You accomplished so much
Yes you did, so much joy
So much light
that's what made you shine
Encrypt her in the stars
Yeah remembered forever
Oh Angel just rest at ease
Yeah girl please rest in peace
Just sleep and dream

©2017 Written By Benji James
A tribute I wrote for Christina Grimmie.

If you would like to check out her stuff here is a link:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=07Qaq0xsgjc
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2016
******* and your little intelligentsia
group therapy sessions
basing its roots in caveman cartesian
theoretic - i know you know that
the blank canvas are the *******
and that artists work on that -
because normally grey citizens are no
blank canvas but a subordination -
but still, *******, why not concentrate
on the blank economics of a beggar
to exercise your little intelligentsia
get-together sessions?
there are less social securities in that
department of inquiry -
mental health and art... what's that?
you jealous of the caverns of the mind
crafting an escape pod to your
****** exercise of mechanisation -
**** on me, crosswords! su doku!
all matters of encryption!
endear your lack of creativity with
the synonymousness act of creativity
decoding encryption,
because you obviously can't encrypt
on a complete lack of encoding parameters (blanks).
you can't encrypt originality unless
you start with encrypting nothingness
with stars... and how often does that happen?
perhaps once... i care to make you
feel something akin to bombastic,
a football stadium size of appreciation lost -
skull kickabout with commentary:
to create the post-relativity warp
of quantity-quality, akin to space-time,
for indeed the answer to science's
space-time hyphenated couplet
is quantity-quality - and that's hardly a measurable
consideration, since there are too many particulars
involved, i.e. too many individuals, choices
and disparaging wills - too many particulars
in the hyphenated couplet quantity-quality,
since science is offering universal breadcrumbs
with its space-time rationalisation
for each and every for a share in populating
an insignificance, whether on a personal
scale or an impersonal / collective scale -
and both are indeed expressed,
the famous parasitical comparison found
in too many numbered essays by individuals -
but still humanism has a quantity-quality parabola,
while science has its space-time parabola,
and indeed both in dip, provide waves,
for example the former with Plato and Neoplatonism,
and for example the latter with
the revisionists of Einstein - the revisionist excavators
arguing precision to 100% proof of measurement
in exponential scaling of the mind theorising
a bus trip to Saturn like a bus-trip parallel-akin
to a 1 mile trip on the same vehicle in the earthly atmosphere.
Sa Sa Ra Nov 2012
Oh but if Abraham father tri-covenant be
Zarathustra grandpa be uh ha Persia ******
hummm...deeply restructuring muchly rooted
of the far reaches and you a free to detail it fill it in
ridicule I'm no scholar not foot noting all detail here now
but of what Hinduism much come from be ya Krishna just so
seems so one like JC to me sure enough differing mission all together be
but here we are and I was talkin 'bout tri-Abrahamic and Grandpa then ******
Remember Moses how 'bout Joseph and sold into slavery; rainbow dreamer in life giving
colours yet till fully fulled out till fully white all over hmmmm....anywho way through Egypt the way;
picked up a few nifty tricks along this way; a little further down Sa Sa Ra town this wall as it is I did mention the roots of the ancients of Afu Ra Ka and the Kemetic's rooted of the Pharaohs there; The book of the Dead hmmmm.... remember where Joseph step-dad of Jesus and Mary and Baby J had fled; I've skipped a few steps but twasn't till Moses started with the books and recorded on pages though too they all could all recite the Torah so too well also; there were some mix ups and a lot of humanness they were not shy about admittance or of recordence of this; let me hit a few punch lines some we know and some um well idk likely not, others may seem strange so, well I will carry some load; some 'wild' Arabs were cut of from 'the promise and or the inheritance' this we all know to well and yet tho when Shaman Master J was a bit dejected by much authority of his own homeland (or more accurately by his Hebrew lineage)  he did say clear his love and message was for Gentiles too should have been inclusive of Arabs then however Rome kinda well we all too know how they needed to politicize that power and dogma and power and love askew ERGO MUHAMMAD!!!! Here is where I need the most help too!!! But I RA NI that's truly me my heart is there with all seven billion be!! I am about good news being good!!! That great big Architect Guy speaks with me; so whatever they say has to be for it is WRITTEN and is plan A no not by me here that way; moving it to plan b or xyz I don't really care; I've read enuf I see and hear differing things than any they about this stuff...J spoke the essence of The Book of the Dead for the Living; the silk road, the salt and gold and such treasure; what ya kidden me what the real **** going down that road was priceless wisdom being conveniently collected collated and studied; thee Essenes by the hmmm 'Dead' Sea in the desert what a ploy huh...raised in a vacuum how 'bout of all available assistance of all time and hearts and loving hands and care; plenty well mentioned lore and mention-able stories of how he got around to all the best mystery schools and pulled nifty loving care wherever he went and by a few other names in other locales; well when a kingdom falls you must blaspheme the beforehand Gods and false worship there so the holy ones who knew it's real worth and understood whom really did the blaspheming and cursing took it all underground worth more than a body and many bodies paid the price to save the surely hard earned...how 'bout OZ say WHAT ; now what this guy on he must do drugs to get this way and surely now but um nah sorry I'd love if I could but say I'm straight at least as wood and yes for a while my trade Ron the carpenter and you'd be surprised what she can tell ya about what seems and what is really straight and how humans as elements go are most like this hahaha and ya I wondered about hiding in plain sight until I figged what I'd do till I got over that **** messiah complex thang that I knew we've been through before and that twasn't going to be the or my thing and I did know too much 'bout heaven so I did need that roll through holy hell ya and Buddha named his son Ball and Chain my number one is 29.5 and it's time to introduce myself!!!;  but she-it say what ya want let me go on when Frank L Baum writer of OZ had a tale to tell; he one happened to be a Theosophist, look up if ya like need I am the type that still breathes ya and he was a bit onto a little about the gold and the big banker thang but that was more cover and decided to encrypt it (a deeper true message) for a more clever way to say and where it could and would grow well deep safely as a children's tale; into the collective consciousness; and he denied for most his life anything 'bout what what OZ really was but in the end, I don't have it here now and  maybe I'll dig it up  lata, but it was not hard for me to decipher, I'm many codes inside out and running backwards myself but it was a dig on Zarathustra or oft more better well known by the Greek as Zoroaster for turning creative and destructive forces into a war in heaven of good and evil and there their's just ain't no concept all the way down to Christianity that ain't got it's roots from there their's as much as JC did try to set things straight and say it is done and indeed it is and indeed we are the ones he one Masterful Initiator and when we do as he suggested then the Hebrew will say it's finally Messiah for all things indeed change with and about us; say again abc 123 not required; If I had a heart mind and brain like the Heart of God and Mind of Christ would I doubt once or think twice and rather be off to see the wizard or priest or pope; when truly only straight within you direct connect you your own wizardry connective-ness to all creation loving click click home home bad dream hypnotic spell be gone; but what about courage once you are realized, you do not doubt once or think twice with the true heart of 'God' and 'Mind Of Christ' and you just do and run into rather than from un hum see; but again not to far away from losing your life (re: the reality of and for Baum at the time) for telling such loving truths to Gods dear children; but here we are and here I am I Ra Ni and we are FREE!!
SO ON WITH ONE AND OFF WITH THEE OTHER FINALLY DISCOVER A WORLD WITH THE TRUTH ABOUT ONE AND EACH OF ONE ANOTHER!!!
We are Lions, Tigers and Bears, Hearts of God and Minds Of Christ;
work as you must, again know thyself inner earnest self honesty!!!
Petal pie Jan 2017
My home is in a vintage tin
Belonged to your great grandma
With many other varied breeds
Our cousins sorted into jars

I'm often fastened up tight
In British stiff collared fashion
Occasionally burst off
When shirts are ripped open
In the haste of frisky passion

In my other guise
When I am tapped
I connect you worldwide
My neighbour form words and stories
Whilst I encrypt some code for spies.

Machinery, you really need me
To start and then to stop
To raise alarm bells
And when pressed call the cops

I'm a round reminder
Of how life began
Innie or outie and proud
Of how mum's body nurtured your
In utero life-span

Dangerous in the wrong hands
I must be closely guarded
For if you press me
World war three
Could easily be started
Broken Lights Oct 2013
The words turned into binary
A random set of on and off signals for the computer to encrypt, send and decrypt
Then they traveled through the net,
Through the nearest server where it sent the words to where it needed to be

Then they showed up as the same words on the other end.
It is there for the world to see.
For the world to judge,
For the world to see who I really am.

I can remove it anytime I wanted to,
But I wanted to know what the world would think.
The world could be amazed.
The world could be insulted.

So I waited and waited,
The minutes turned into hours.
So I gave up and went to sleep.
When I woke, there was disappointment in my head.

There was nothing.
No reaction, good or bad.
I poured my soul into the words on the screen.
The words that defined who I am, who I was, and who I want to be.

The ignorance gave me a new feeling.
No one had taken interest in me.
My life was defined by ignorance
And maybe, ignorance wasn't bliss.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2016
the form might be that of a poem, but to be honest,
it has nothing poetic to it -
                  i wanted to feel angry -
to vent anger out,    i drank during the daytime:
daytime and drinking?
                                                       ­         bad idea.
                               daytime drinking
and fasting and smoking
and coffee? a doubled-up bad idea...
         but i wanted to feel
a wrathful voice... i got bored of my otherwise
gentlemanly attire and what not,
i wanted to waste my tongue into
anger... best propeller of the act?
drink during daytime...
                          when night falls,
the lazy one comes out.
                   consider this -
some use language to encrypt, not
to to simply memorise rhyming and
bounce bounce the bubbly pink ball
on stage...
                    Pavlov's lapping tongue
of a dog overheating -
             philosophy deals with
double phonetic encryption,
                  that's a psychological reevaluation
of what language is, from the standard
of the three tier cake:      consciousness,
                                      s­ub-  " and un- "    -
again Christianity plays a great deal with
the point of a trinity -
                               that's the secular version,
a populist version for each individual
regardless of the church's credo -
                    but as i was saying:
philosophy deals with a doubled variation
of phonetic encoding:
                      primarily for one reason:
this is primer for idea forming -
               isn't it?
                             the first level is that of
being able to read the encoding -
   like a music score...
                                   to write a s k
              and then say the word: ask.
but the second tier of encoding sound is
to translate it into optics -
                   the basis of idea forming -
not the basis of making sounds, but to peer
more deeply into any sort of narrative -
sometimes a single word can pull
the gravity of thought
                                 away from the narrator
ego, and into the realm of the id:
        which doesn't narrated, but
    conjures up ideas: to me the source of
all "magic" formulae -
                          here again, a classic plagiarism
working on the basis of a trinity -
          i dare say dualism is so unfashionable
to most people, as is monism -
             people prefer triangles to explain
their psychological life,
          and circles to explain the physical life...
   dualism is out of fashion that
it would seem to be more (dangerously) fashionable
to be of split-mind - but never mind that -
romanticising any medical condition is
a faux pas.
                                i was spurred on
by reading a review of O'Hara's poetry,
namely the poem sardines -
                  the reviewer writes how the poet
'actually writes his poem by breaking down
language into its most basic units - words.'
well... technically this is where the other point
of phonetic encoding comes in, the third tier...
words aren't as basic as you might think -
they reside in the realm of meaning,
but also a realm of being bound to a thesaurus -
(apologies, i'm not trying to be pedantic,
  you might see where this might be going,
in terms of sharpening the point of
               what's language and
the basics of language - yes, a niche topic,
as usual, pedants ahoy)
                          words are components
(or compounds)... letters are units, akin to
mathematical digits...
                          but then again,
kilometres are units -
                                 as are miles and hours...
surely then if worded
                   the representation would be that
of a/z                             rather than
                                   p/o/r/r/i/d/g/e          
      a/z seems like a better basis for unitary
conceptualisation of language
                        using a, b, c... z as the basic
units of language... yes... much more so than words...
            because the third tier of encoding
is based primarily on letters,
                                       yes, we know the
plight of the Palestinians, but the Jews have something
i want, and use, quiet frequently,
although with variation - there's no
              toying about with gematria -
i don't accept this method of investigation -
              i find absolute futility in it -
not that i can't grasp it, but i find it useless -
         it's this third tier where ideas are formed
without any distinct orthodoxy -
                           so:
tier 1. phonetically encoding a s k to say: ask
tier 2. phonetically encoding a s k to think:
                                      what am i going to ask for?
tier 3. phonetically encoding a s k to then
            (primarily) venture into encoding
                                              a s k i n g f o r p a t i e n c e.
we're not dealing with Chinese ideograms,
    we're dealing with a linear juxtaposition encoding
   e.g.
     a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p (q r s t u v w x y z)
the bracket? i first learned the English alphabet
as a sing-along... to my memory i forgot the rhythm
of the song (i was 7 at the time) and subsequently
             the rest of the sequence... but that doesn't
necessarily mean my vocabulary suffered because of it...
still linear juxtaposition encoding, as above, only
         n y m p h  (x y s t)
                             a b c d e f g i j k l o q r s t u v w x z
                   (a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r u v w z)
                                           e x o t i c s (friz)
          a b d f g j k l q r u v w x z
                              (a b c d e g h j k l m n o p q u v w)
                 ...
                                    
     ...
                         (b c e g
                                                            - interlude -
   well, technically, you could say that diacritical
marks are used for the purpose of dissecting
words into syllables, that's not to say
          latin compound fixations on meaningful
  prefixes, such as: aqua-        or omni-
                   (yes, the etymological section
of the dictionary is the most interesting part
of that book - as counter to Darwinism,
                     or something less intrinsic with
visuals, and focused more on a shorter history
of mankind, the less ridiculous time-frame,
         or history without Alexanders and Socrates -
                  SS... the English hasn't fixed
the notation of pluralism here...
            something akin to ß      or σ          or     ς
                    is begging to come out of this problem...
lets just say the ending variation of sigma denotes
the plural, so, etymology, or history without
       Alexanders and Socrateς / cruder or more
masculine Socrateç... Tess' - as in: it belongs to Theresa)
        as Plato noted, i too, like Socrates
are investigating how my name ought to be written,
by the looks of it, from what i discovered
               i apply diacritics as syllable identifiers,
or: how to cut words up -
   ergo? even though this is not orthodox,
my name, should be written as
                   Máteuš -
                                               the acute a
stresses the cutting up of the word, i.e. the first
syllable is identified, primarily because diacritics
stress non-prefixes, i.e. simpler variations of
what a prefix is (a loan word), or a sound that
has an ancient meaning, for example pre-
or pro-, meaning the word was forced into the shackles
of being accompanied by a hyphen
when the ancient tongue disintegrated and its grammar
was no longer adequate to accommodate
the barbarian tongues of the north...  
so it has come to this: diacritical marks are not
exactly aesthetic concerns where not writing an
acute o but rather u is displeasing to the eyes...
      it's about seeing where the syllable incision has
been made... shame the English never adopted it...
but then again: the Empire blah blah blah, Star Wars
blah blah blah... special relationship with America
blah blah blah... that old chestnut -
                  or can anyone forget their eccentricity
of doth and         all that Canterbury *******?
   or even Shakespeare's English?
                                  i'm on it... well,
apologies... internet encrypting, acronyms and
eight and L8 for late. it was never adopted -
        and never will be... ****-naked Charlie
and ****-floral-naked Angie...
              sitting in a tree, one two, one two three.

  - post-interlude -

              (b c e g...
                                           i really can't be bothered
   trying to finish this little scrabble -
           i mean, looking up words
                       so i'm left with the last possible letter,
or no letter at all...
                                  what with
    the six vowels a, e, i, o, u, (y)
                                                  nymph as a word (though)
is the closest you'll get to the pronunciation of
     y (why)               in                   Polish...
                            ny-                 or -ymph
                                 obviously cut off the μ and φ...
but if you're really bored...
                  you could probably finish that
little game... for no reason, whatsoever -
        as already stated i'm more interested in things
contained in the interlude, but then again games like
this provide the capacity to abstract and return
with actual application of an idea.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
when i start drinking i know that i have to start writing
after a few beers in, before the woman of my life Whitney
(i call her that, not Jack or Jim,
what, boys call feminise their guitars -
i have Whitney - auburn skinned and easy, as in
fluid - so before Whitney enters my dietary requirements
i have to write something - that thingy mag-jig
when someone is in a critical condition - in a life or
death scenario - that's me also - although i'm there
not between life and death, but within lost onomatopoeia(s)
of knock knock who's there jokes - but the dissatisfaction
with things - i need to encrypt - reinvent Persian
poetics - keep my mouth shut - see into the yet to come
sunrise - so few poets can actually make you feel
what they feel, poetry is plagued with prompting too
many others - why is poetry the most accessible art-form
and the least satisfying? i gather because it's mostly
unread, and easily prompting others to write it -
the other Pandora - let's just call her a faking Libra -
only in poetry does production of it outweigh
the profits reaped from it - people read little poetry
but write a lot of poetry - because it's the cheap-***
art - esp. in the pixel age of Beelzebub eye's
somehow all those shrapnel windows coordinating a
one-on-one vision - poetry is cheap, hence so many
adherents to practice it - yet so few to perfect it,
or if not perfecting it, at least adventurous and
gambling alike to hold fast to it's tornado essence -
the line: make it personal, but not too personal -
it's as if you had a life outside of poetry... you don't,
stark naked in Eden - and nowhere else, soon and if
applauded for such gesture you'll find less and less
people wanting to attach to you for your "private" life
exposures - if shame can be a Pakistani infused novel
by Salman Rushdie, then it can't be a western poem,
because fate of such weaving is de facto lost, forever,
people basically like their perversity than expressing
a curbing of such self-prompt-inquisitions for strangers' eyes
to scrutinise - indeed quite the reflection of an Englishman
and his house the castle. but the reason poetry has no
status in Western society unlike in Ancient Persia is because
it was killed off - it has no social respect because of
political rhetoric, it has no professional respect because
we have prosaic fudge-packaging writers with their
extensive lullabies of mundane talk and the odd dialogue:
the psychologists that don't listen - and the people
who say they appreciate poetry... but only if they write it -
for the majority of concerns, the Divine Comedy (e.g.)
has more footnotes than any critical work academia -
and i don't mean footnotes as such, but ~footnotes,
more poems... what poetry has come in terms of output
is like a newspaper - quasi-poetry (even with technique,
or none, apparently frailty makes something written
poetic, i call it butterflies in budgie cages - as insects
they heap up the behaviour of banging against the iron bars -
pretence flight - to keep beauty is to keep it sadistically -
and to release it with prior wants to contain it ends up
a masochism - against Nietzsche and partisan with Kant -
let's equate beauty with something that doesn't interest us -
let's poker that expression, what is beautiful is what doesn't
interest us - it's the porcelain effect - the fragility already
presupposed an advent of mortality -
grammar will never abide by the rules of arithmetic -
i will write my german with english grammar -
and i will write Latin according to the reverse principle
of compounding nouns (genus alba) - i.e.
white race - (genus ater) - dismal race - and no other.
- i write this just before Whitney comes along -
what a bridge, aged 40 and always there when the night comes,
we have three children, the first born Amitriptyline (now aged
25 of some unknown unit of measurement, dog years, or x7
to ours), and the twins Naproxen and Paracetamol -
with them i have been synthesising sleep for the past 9 years -
as any chemist would avoiding going cuckoo -
Amtriptyline was born anaemic - with Whitney stepped in
and sorted the matter out - a chemist will never go
with the doctor's orders - no chance in life - chemistry
is abstract medicine - any idiot can prescribe pills and don
the title general practitioner with a wage over £100,000 -
but it takes self-reliance to invert the note: WARNING.
DO NOT DRINK ALCOHOL WHILE TAKING THIS
MEDICINE. ha ha... fat chance of that not happening -
i'd be bonkers if i didn't, Whitney will tell you - o.k.,
the excesses of somnia (that variant of sanity, in- and
mm, you know what) are sometimes pointless -
but at least my brain becomes a rechargeable battery sequence.
alternative provocation - Charon's holiday -
i always wondered why the Greeks placed payment
for Charon on the eyes of those about to be cremated -
(liken Hindu, now very morbid - in what element would
man find no animal or insect incubated to survive -
in earth the worms and the moles, in air the birds and
moths - in water the fish and ***** and oysters -
but in fire? a godly endurance - and unto it i too would
like to return to) - two coins places on the eyes -
as if to remind the dead that the veil of materialism will be
lifted when Charon takes his wage from their eyes,
unveils himself first, then Styx and the future of what
greed and excess materialised - such a funeral would be
befitting in our age - as today, five pounds withdrawn from
the bank account, £0.43 in my wallet - a can of beer
at £1.10 - Shanghai math? perhaps, that's about to be implemented -
abstract Chinese v. Johnny ate 10 doughnuts and
how much time to burn the calories off? (latter being English
method of teaching - chemistry, abstract medicine, surgeons
excluded, they're not ascribed the title Dr. anyway,
as you'd expect, pristine butchers' association) - anyway...
i was two pence short of five-fifty, and as i outstretched my
hand with a 20 pence coin, 2x 10 pence coins, a 5 pence coin
and 3x 1 pence coins i dawned on me - the five quid banknote
was already on the counter - my eyes eyed the look in
the cashier's hesitation - the almost neurotic look of despair,
i was short by 2 pence - they weren't there, but
i just imagined that two Greek eyes were staring from my
hand - (i will not put overweight atypical of poetic strain
on the Cartesian equilibrium on the side of i am "Charon,
but it's only a sly-millimetre off from acting, so i guess
it ought to be included) - two 1 pence coins in my hand
missing - the over-suggestive microscopic panic of
the cashier - the opposite zenith of today's parabolic materialism,
for indeed we live in materialism's parabola -
the nadir comes with pennies on the street (thank you
Frank Sinatra) - how could even the most insignificant unit
of the monetary system be nothing more than a pebble?
if i were people, id pay respect to the smallest unit and pick them
up - otherwise money will become altogether useless -
if it isn't already - it's a great way to pass obscure laws
as in throwing a cigarette **** on a street and getting fined
£1000 for it... or how many killed off alliances akin
to family and tribalism - but seeing pennies on the street
is not a good sign - an astounding metaphor - a penny on
a street - i promise i'll not do a Simon & Garfunkel on you -
wormholes of ancient Greek perception lying on
cement, readied to be picked up - the resurrected Greeks
pre-dating Christianity coming back - their eyes
lying on the street - O the woe of our kindred having written
the New Testament - that we must return and see
the world once again for what it is, and for what it will
never be - in such an age, when in ours the old were still
mentally resourceful and not extinguished in soul and thought -
even in body - to this frightening sight -
we paid a penny for each eye when prior we were given
2 pound coins to cross the Styx - now Charon allows
us a penny's worth of glimpse into this world - for he has
no eyes of his own - a penny per eye into the great
seafarer of time's eyes.
Apachi Ram Fatal Jun 2017
interfere journey body sweaty mastermind dust
dummy\
inhale shale bond reason oxidize crummy
read write swell\
ready curve encrypt slime minus shell heady set
flow sacrifice\
believe alter oceanic shelf killing part of Hell split Earth lent
mayhem vent\
outspent wipe well being clean provoke Cain uphold Able
mean mug\
dump cornmeal unicorn convulsing mend restitution advertently
spiel indent\
hand over to pilot retribution intend empty zeal rummage
destitution\
Hasidic inside the writ spirit fly guide escape unravel ways of
savage\
lives out the side Pegasus soar glide abide Nein but fine rhyme
hymns\
Clarity of KMFDM
Megan Sherman Sep 2017
Free spirit of the world who hath the fire,
With what bold mind do you strive to aspire?
To cast yoke off the oppressed Souls,
Whose dismay the righteous mind appeals,
Could I surmise thy beauty with a psalm,
Craft thy form with a Lover's palm,
I would entertain thee with a dram,
Encrypt a loving, gleeful telegram,
To amuse thy mind with mutual rapport,
Of coy messages in purest passion thought.

Could we begin the correspondence blessed?
Lately from Loves work I have digressed,
For being much encumbered by the dark,
Of shill who sent to **** my divine spark,
The devils wield their lacklustre lassoos,
To strangulate me, inflict suffering true,
To vanquish voice of mine, suppress it's truth,
Take away its power, force, forsooth,
But in thee I see redemption sure,
So with Psalms to thee I fast implore.

Ferry me to sweet and seismic shores,
Where music of the heart doth sweet uproar,
And waves of sheer delight kiss passions sands,
Feel the joy of flight while in thy hands,
On shores of heaven we would surely play,
Soothing, quelling, pacify dismay
Adding bright sweet spark to darkling day,
As demons, angels go upon their way,
On chariots, the angels, singing loud,
In a divine aura duly shroud.

Thou art a rainbow shine in spite of faith,
Art a sun blaze in spite of eyes embrace,
Its sure world good and good is surely true,
And world is more good for the life of you,
Thou art a beacon of hope and fertile joy,
Suffice to inspire rise and fall of troy,
War waged to capture beauty of the day,
Who doth inspire worship of the ray,
That emit soft sultry from your sun,
Blessed form through which God's fires run.

Soul of Universe, immortal creature,
Face adorned in soft enchanting features,
Unto you I faithful bestow bars,
Sing to you under the sprightly stars,
Walking on and on through space forever,
We'd see infinity of realms untouched by man's endeavour,
Spheres rotating for infinite hours,
Testifying to creations powers,
Borne aloft on wings golden, sublime,
We suppress, vanquish hell and transcend time.

Meditation hath betrayed to you,
Inspiration through which my mind flew,
No regret in which to struggle, rue,
As I enter golden sanctuary of you,
My heart turns to raw red from deadening blue,
For warmth of love the flowers plant there grew,
To truth which raptures us in throes I sing,
For luscious love, most cherish able of things,
I welcome the ascension that it brings,
And go racing round the earth with you in rings.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2016
the art of biblio- (+) -philia -
caress them and don't stone them -
never fold the edges to create a book
mark, by all means
        insert toilet paper
markings for reminder -
             but nothing else -
my birth will come from Armenia -
in cold sweat wondered if
the publisher replied, the Armenian
is on the translation -
i imagine him working agile and juggling -
never mind that - not out of want
but out of rubbing shoulder to shoulder;
although i must say that poets
fear punctuation -
          hence the cascade,
hence the            w
                                 a
                                   t
                                   e
                                   r
                                   f
                                   a
                                   l
                                   l
oh indeed poetry is a natural with gravity,
it's not fudge thick prose packaging
of lettering - (after all,
for such a long time poetry wasn't
economic, but since we've turned
digital, and give only two
hazelnuts worth of care for
the Amazon, you know,
in the digital age of endless pixel
paper, we kinda won -
we needed an endless source
of toilet paper to write on) - it's a waterfall
without a fear of falling, but punctuating
the pose in which to fall,
like Gibreel and Saladin in the satanic verses -
one ends up flapping his hands,
the other is falling like a coffin -
where's the real comedy? i think in the latter -
but never mind what i think -
the goddess of Mecca allāt had a *** change -
allāh became - and henceforth with
some other minor alternatives wishing
for a stealing an apple bobbing in Mecca -
cut the head off! but not my hand!
apple bobbing in Mecca - pig's snout thief -
but at page 625 canto XC i do a page flipping
cartoon of what i have read -
all those cantos - obviously there is no
cartoon of matchstick men dancing
tango in jazz#, you can mingle poetry with
jazz but not tango -
i don't know how they pulled it off,
jazz and poetry? hmm, poetry and painting?
i agree - bibliophile the one with
a cf. joker card up his sleeve and the ace in
his wallet -
                    instead of a cartoon movement
you have the words encrypt the days
you spent with the book;
honest to god he makes the poetry a thing
of the past for all the classical guises of
strict routine, there're no techniques
call them what you want: metaphor, item,
pun, item, onomatopoeia, item...
those aren't techniques, they're identifiers,
the boas - constricting or constipating?
whichever - cheap jokes are hardly worth
anything in a monologue since
instead of a punchline you get digression
and the jokes aren't cheap by this method -
they'll brim with bulls charging in narrow
alleys - except, well, except you keep calling it
an ******* of short-lived albino tadpoles -
ah ***... hot sauce and gravy and the only
time you dare to not think -
                                              and no, no one
forced anyone to think, on your own
you go and streak to buttocks ****
waiting for the blind barber.
i know the ones that made it, they escaped
indoctrination of what's deemed a paragraph on
education, in england they still have the imperial
units concerning education:
how much longer a student who achieved an
A grade said 'a' longer than the student who
achieved a D grade and said 'd' with a shortening -
but never mind that -
                                       the really really
famous ones dropped out, did menial bits and bobs
for peanuts and then hit a crescendo of Icarus -
took to the populist stance and never involved themselves
in higher tier affections of affairs -
politics was sidelined as themselves in role
of the water-boy - 40 years march more desired but
somehow derided - yet by some the crucifixion
embraced - mainstream vs. pantera -
                         a legionnaire -
the star of joseph hovering over Bethlehem -
and they still complain, 11 and 1 together twelve
that the concubine of Abraham was shamed
and left to wander into the sands under which
rich black gold was hidden,
Muhammad's neurotic approach toward
origins - Abraham's concubine that did more
than simply muck about in repenting -
took the short-cut and started a martial arts
movement in Japan with the ninjas.
scully May 2016
i have wasted so much paper for you
i have told strangers things i haven't thought about telling you
i have written poetry like
its a cheap substitute for therapy
and i've held the pencil so hard the lead breaks
when my hands shake too much to keep going
i have gone to all of these great lengths
i have written epics about the way you left me
i have written sonnets about how you came back
ive never shown you any of this in fear you will see how my handwriting slowly deteriorates into shaky lines and abstract complaints
in fear that you will make the connection that i havent spent one day free of you since we met
i feel like i have so much to say
and maybe im an expert on beating around the bush
or maybe you're just too self absorbed to hear me
i have tried every way to encrypt my words and say them without letting their meaning sink into your skin
ive got enough for a novel but i havent made my point
i love you
stop hurting me
okay, now im done.
r Feb 2014
The words between
leave not a trace
on page or screen
or time or space.

The cursive script
or font filled line
serve to encrypt
this life of mine.

Some days I'm hot,
and some days cold.
Some days I'm young,
and some days old.

I have known love,
and I've known pain.
I've been a dove,
and I've been Cain.

I have been high,
and I've been low.
I've cast the die
where few will go.

I'm hidden here
somewhere between
the far and near
and never seen.

r ~ 7Feb14
What to cook, or which ingredients to add...
Hmm. Consult your two Sisters if I may suggest
But knowing you, of Health and Taste be glad
A Masterpiece birthed; Or a Monster at-less
Then again, this Creamy Gift you encrypt
Smothered by the Blue Dragon on-demand
With Reason heartfelt for her Smiles uplift
Signed her Approval by holding your hand
Of course, there's Dessert. The Prime of the Day
Best from your Show's stress to Service relieve
A taste from your Earth; With Sweetness the Way
Led her Heart for Triumph she will believe.
This is your Clue. An Opportunity last
To Suckle the Babe; And Mature it fast.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
What is poetry
To a fellow in need?
Simply an outlet
To any man that grieves
What is a song
To a man of passion?
Simply a language
Of feelings and emotion

I can't explain
What dwells inside
Inside the walls
Behind which I hide
From the outer world
So harsh is the sight
I keep well away
As far as I might

It's the language of prose
Of time and rhyme
That I encrypt these messages
Of what's deep inside
Inside the walls
Behind which I hide
Until a better day
When all my fears will subside
Sanyam Gupta Nov 2013
To the devil muscle in the mouth;
You are not doing good;
The thing assigned to you;
Trembling in the cochlea of mob;
Tending to go on path of lies;
I have a better alternative to you;
The more audible than you;
The super-majestic pen..
..
Pen, you could do it for me,
the thing which turn eyes hard as rock;
the thing which dries the throat;
You could dwell for feelings;
Inside the poor,gullible heart;
And can encrypt facts from brains.
..
You could preserve fossils of all lost memories;
Bringing a reluctant smile of remembrance;
Let the words erupt from the soul;
And appreciate the "Little Great Things";
Of this catastrophic world.
Lauren E OBrien Nov 2011
Holy pages ripped from a sacred spine,
****** out your blood and spilled your wine.
Mopped it up with sanctified script,
Leaving divine lexis left to encrypt.

Hypocritical followers with justified wrongs,
Unjustified sinners to worship reverence songs,
An attempt to make it through without harm,
A set of prolongs left to disarm.

What about the advocates who push unworthy guilt,
Yet redefine corruption in the place their faith built?
What about those who are prosecuted for living their lives,
Put on trial for wine spilt, and other wine-like deprives?
mel Jun 2018
you are galaxies
with cosmic reason
sewn into the corners
of your soul
let time be an illusion
and this heaviness
not yours to hold

because
you are not broken
you are e v e r y t h i n g
all your dreams encrypt your genes
all you seek is already within you—
the journey, the destination, the stars,
the Love, the moon, me, God,
all you hope to ever be,
your lovers eyes, the lies they speak,
roads you wander, Love you leak,
every mountain trail you lead—
all other versions of you (and me)

don’t you see?
the Miracle you are?
you've come so far
from way past mars
and the Light
that guides you
hOMes your heart
Apachi Ram Fatal Jun 2016
Intro: Is a horse pulling a carriage

Body: Program gene coders of food forced to encrypt humans into Slave-Server Categories of GMO Labels Ride in on the Carriage. Equally injecting horses with modified vaccines to genetically enlarge muscles naturally pull carriages to farm DataBases. Writing self-modulating algorithms tagging Guarantees to Glory-wiFI genetic code and control coming breed generators with Narcotic Eyes in popular possessions seduced past their ancient needs passed down for Capital Greed

Conclusion: Essentials of society is very much cabbage patch. Like a horse at the end of the day to keep it moving forward correctly down a wanted circuit board. Use its purpose for energy in ways it must remain hungry always be hungry for a hypothetical prize. A carrotEye Ply.
I really want her too
that illume here with a candy bar sheen
and her corsage plays a sequel
that bare a quotient ready
with delight into their masquerade.

As the moon her telltale, sublime much rockabilly
that grand ballroom with her cantankerous smile
that must wear her hat and scarf awhile, here
champagne pour bail in her cheeks tonight

oh Valhalla ware of yore beast
still shine yet but go with flash **
as Crystal stem a silvery beak tonight,
that bounce our best laid plans off the wall
and encrypt the world with only enhancement
that inquires a distant strand this avowal.
Motion
Chained, on the walls of jericho
Horrified, on the roads of monaco
Rested his will in the promise land
Inviting us to repent and take his hand
Startled, by the king of greece
Throttled, by the eastern breeze
Oblivious, like the men of egypt
Precise, like a code encrypt
Herald of so many man,
Endless, like kingdom come.
Righteous and glorious  like everyone.

All of humanity embraces him
None was taken, but save us from sin
Thorns were on his crown, and rags were his robe
Onto crucifixion he walked that rough and winding road
Neglected by Judas and Peter the pope
In his honor, came the christian hope
Only the highest now, can vow upon him and sleep on his coat

Alelujah, amen and forever we pray to thee
Not just for our sins, but of what have become we
Alelujah, amen and forever we pray to thee
So now and forever he will defend for humanity....
Diána Bósa Sep 2017
There must be an algorithm for the Fate
in the A.I. of existence
and I am aware that
you want to encrypt it.
I wish I could have all the answers
you desperately seek.
But I don't.
Yet still, I can be your skeleton key
in this closed space
to open the doors
toward the unbeknown.
Because for learning by doing -
as Aristotle said at once -,
we could read ourselves into
the rules of staying
beneath the wrinkles of Time.

We can be constant variables.
JP Feb 2016
a small lake
boy engaged in paper boat
encrypt in gene
may have ambition
to become voyager
a travel for adventure
but
modern world erased
such adventure
of getting lost and
found.......
.
I was in tomb
Engraved with
Beauty I need to
find my way out
Out of the crystal gem
That enchant me

I am in your cocoon tomb
My tombstone needs to be rolled
So I resurrect at the sight of light
That encrust me in the quiet void
I need to encrypt my name in your mind

To unleash the rain in your heart
As I taste the buds that lies in you
You entice me in your tomb
As I stare at you life is beautiful

Written by
Martin Ijir
Rishikah Dec 2015
Clenching my hands into a ball of fist, gritting my teeth in determination and anger that was rising in me. Determination to slam your black eyes with my strength and hope. I will encrypt a code just for your thick skull to get it.

Tear me down,
I'll rise and swallow you up like the angry waves of sea rolling off.

Wanting to make me glow with fear,
I'll give you nightmares with my wicked plans because I am the devil itself.

Touch me,
I'll shred your limbs apart making you cry out loud in pain begging me for mercy.  
Honey, remember if you were to be storm emerging, I'll be a hurricane willing to take you to escort to the gates of hell.
Hirondelle Sep 2020
We all need motivation to live on. Our encounter with beautiful things gives it to us.

Remember, let’s say, all the beautiful sentiments a wise person has inspired in you, that sweet smile of a whilom ancestor which forever haunts your memories, the grateful look in the eyes of a creature for your benevolence, your attachment to a beautiful spot outside the city, your fondness of the sweet aroma of good coffee… the gratifying interior odour of a new car… or the invigorating petrichor after the sweet patter of rain, or the autumn scent released from the earth-met butter gold… or the strewn mane of a galloping horse on this aromatic matt of autumn… Time freezes and your whole being gravitates towards such loveliness.

Has it ever occurred to you we live to capture such moments -like a camera which we are not? Beauty inspires us and unfurls a smile; that’s all. Cameras don’t ‘flash’ a smile. It is the inspired man who ‘flashes’ a smile after all.

What literature does is to encrypt such remarkable moments in linguistic novelty. Such novelty that filters life into a new brightness and breath without which the real world could get darker and a bit stifling.

Hence the timeless poems, stories and novels. Hence the gods and goddesses we create. Literary work has such linguistic charm we cannot help getting inspired. If the thunderous gallop of those horses emanates into the beat of your racing heart or mutes out the rest of the whole world for you, then you most probably are upon such linguistic finesse...



Beauty glorifies our time on this planet. Show me a man, or even a husband, who can’t help stealing a furtive glance at a beautiful book walking him past in the street. (Pardon my linguistic slip, I guess books and women should not shift places in a man’s regard, or else I can’t imagine what bookstores or libraries might turn out to be then. Before scoffing off the awkward pun, though, ask it to yourself again if wives, too, would be able to keep their eyes straight at such an encounter? We need fascination. We steal a furtive glance at a smart stranger to lock up their looks in our memory just as we steal wild beasts from their happy habitat to pen them up in sad solitude for our own fascination. We need beauty so desperately as to ‘steal’ as it seems. Alright, off these inconvenient moral transgressions with our kindred busy at work…

Things that draw our fancy dwell in a greater plane than the well-proportioned frame of any **** sapiens. Redolent with biblichor, the world of literature offers you an aromatic ride to faraway faculties of the brain, undiscovered sentiments or unsung anthems of life perhaps lost in oblivion right under our nose.

Watch out for bookstores and libraries! And if you can, stay away from the zoo!

Such sweet biblichor also wafts from the seamier side of life, be it death, deceit or depravity... A very long list indeed inhabits the harder half of life, yet how wonder wafts through words, nevertheless!  How words shake off all **** from the worse half and sprinkle star dust into its dark recesses and bring knowledge in brightness!

Linguistic finesse and idiosyncrasy are the aromatic essence that any brew about an important aspect of life must contain, or else the brew is dull as dishwater long down the drain.

To illustrate this better, I must go back to that awkward encounter in the street. Alas, a greater majority of us would notice those curves and curls, say in biceps, ***** or hair that bobs, while the unimposing greater portion of life is blurred into oblivion. Though literature may make use of the brighter side of the coin, what it as often does is to scrape off the **** on the seamier side, polish it bright enough to take notice. Only then do we grow an interest to read about the flip side of life, as well.

Fascination and learning keep good company.

You may not show much interest if someone just writes about the grime on an Afghan girl’s face. Yet, literature is that angle which captured the untold, homespun tale in the green glint of the Afghan Girl’s eye.

Also note that it is the soot on her face which accentuates the striking meaning in her eyes, not some dark designer mascara!

Words may whisper in your ears a beguiling salute in the westerly adieu of the sun.

Or, remember the ‘The Woman in Red’ scene in the mental movie Matrix. Remember Neo’s foible towards the woman in an exposing red blouse walking him past in a colourless crowd. And remember Morpheus’s wise warning about what is not real.

Literature makes use of our foible to the fanciful. It makes use of the scintillating power of words and cajules us into a richer awareness of life. With literature, you embrace life in both lustre and soot, not just fix your gaze on a strutting stranger in a fancy cover.

Words keep the beguiling bleat of the Afghan Urial alive on the grassy slopes of Musakhel safe from a sloppy, dead corner in a zoo.

You think you know about hunger until a writer depicts it, or you may think you have had you fill of the same old stale coffee until someone brews it anew with their linguistic star dust and it smells sweet again.

Literature keeps everything about life fresh.

The story line, however, is but the cup that contains the Ambrosia.

Do you read to live forever young?

Cheers!
With deepless gratitude to all fine writers for many a magic ride on the thunderous gallop of words they have been able to offer us. I would appreciate one recommended ride in the comments, mine being the short story 'Scarlet Ibis' by James Hurst.
Cole Nubson Apr 2014
Forget
Leave me to wander in colors ranging from purple to black
Encrypt
Put a lock on any contact with the sweetest taste of liquor
Deny
Enrage me with ignoring my last response to the environment
Fight
Spend days on end battling through the need to slip
Die*
Light the worlds fuse to be remembered
Stagger Lee Jun 2018
When will the moon constrict my hopeless burdens away,
when will the cold murderous slumber end,
when will the tigers eyes of tranquility call me again,
when will the rocks braze the underworld beneath,
when will the masks of quivering grief be lifted,
when will these rosegold chains dissolve,
when will the wild beast in my head lay to rest,
when will the ghosts strangle my rugged devotion,
when will I be salvaged by cupids soft arrow,
when will the fatigued ruins of my pirated soul be free,
when will the blistering light of the sun go out,
When will the treacherous waves of the oceans calm,
when will the songbirds symphony of agonizing pain stop singing,
when will the gaps of my devoured heart be mended,
when will my insufferable day of reckoning come,
when will my sullified essence be cleansed and my debt be repaid,
when will the howl of solace encrypt my unqwuentionable love,
when can I sip peacefully from the fountains of youth,
when can I eat the benevolent fruits of prolific endowment,
when will I be saved

When?
Jamie Treavish Nov 2017
You acted as though I was playing with
your emotions where emotions run thin
Yet I can’t remember the last time I didn’t
            sit with a sore nose or bloodshot eyes
The alcohol is helping me cope with life but
life is getting in the way of the only positive substance
They call it a bad road acting as if I’m walking
ignoring the signs but the avenue I walk down
just gives me signs of life
            without the signs of life
Maybe I’m a fool to love or maybe I’m part of a
generation that get their kick out of the flakes that
fall from the nose that follows the scent of hope
Living behind a screen where no one brings
flowers but instead encrypt a ‘rest in peace’
to pretend they care in the moment yet
only know you behind a name on a page
            that shows the drought of when you were forgotten
I used to swim in the ocean but now I drown
in low self esteem with no direction other than
when the music fills the club where if you aren’t
drinking then you find yourself intoxicated by a life
that isn’t worth a second look so you try to write
a book to show people the pain but it’s just
            capitalism for the unsavoury brain of a generation
            that wait on death and even then you can’t escape
            because you’re told to choose between good and evil
            and you haven’t necessarily been good or evil
                        you’ve just been - well, you
            So you sit on your throne of lies and bring
            the polish with you to the gates so that
            you are no longer afraid when it gets
            to your time but be afraid of the time
                        because the longer you live the more you die.
Yea everybody that doubted us
I let the guns bust
I'm talking magnums to artillery cannons who's handin'?
Me the pressure I'll stretcher
Longer than a limousine heads I guillotine
Once they show they face miss the prison place beat the case
Cuz of all the franklins faces
Seen many tastes
Of life luxurious my foes furious
Got critics nervous cuz they know I be serious
Slap a rhyme til ya  delirious
Dangerous trust
Get away clean so **** the must
We stackin cream shatterin dreams
Lock the game like a snake bite
Grab it tight became a hustler overnight
While y'all overwrite with ya overbite
I keep it comin' machine guns lyrics
Like techs is hummin' stunnin'
Opponents til they see trinity visions
Easy decisions you against me
Lets be realistic
I'll make you a early news statistic
Hop off the biscuit
Unless you a chick cuz my ****
Only fits in a ****
All these haters rappin' ain't ****
I'll put em down like Jordan did the Knicks set the pick
My team we never fail and if we see jail will see bail
Countless enemies to sail ya going frail
My pockets never stale only swells
Shot guns shells
Crackin' brains once I set my aim
Verbal assassin so who's passin'?
Me up this is a hold up
Rap game I fold up grab a coca cola and a smile problem child
Since I got stuck in wild
Tears from my mothers when. I was in the womb soon
To come out a punish those whom
Had a problem with the way flip
My words aint script it's encrypt
Knowledge is power devour reign like a shower til the vary hour
My last breath death before dishonor feelin' like Conner
Terminators after me why cuz it's seems like they wanna Punish Me


Flip through tracks like an acrobat
True aristocrat f the democrats
We all about street stats cheat more than the Pats
Fools say they dogs but scream
Out like ***** cats imagine that?
Me loosin' who ya choosin'?
Me or them other phonies
Worshippers around me
Like I'm the black Madonna
Statue bless you guess whos?
Back again with the blacked Out benz with back tinted lens
We undercover lyrical smugglers
Heavy weight slugger I go for the juglar
Vein til every ounce of blood is drained simple and plain
Go against the grain
I got gangsters who pack the macks so don't turn ya back
Unless ya wanna get burned and turned
Over to the undertaker meet to maker
Word to the Anita Baker
Givin' the best flows I got
Like who shot?
Ya not Chris Wallace but chickas call me big poppa break em off proper
Shoot an 8ball in the bathroom stall
**** I'm fallin' like Denzel
Seen visions of hell as my brain sails
Into another dimension
Tainted reality living life bad as can be
Chainsawin' lyrics causin' massacres
In Texas don't none wanna plex with us
I'm from the 3rd ward born hard
Sniff out fraud
Fools snitchin' for a few grand large take another charge
Of the cannibus plantin' a fist
To adversary who tried to dissed
Dismissed know ya gettin' a kiss
Mothers bending over ya casket
No tears in the end come again
I seen colors blowing with the wind
I'm talkin blood and sin gin
Sippin' No slippin' rippin'
Styles with my vo-cals hit on the dial
If you suspect foul
Play makes for doomsday with the AK pray that I don't find you in a alley
Roamin' alone the dark zone
Death is a ransom
Why all this drama on me
**** it seems like they wanna Punish me?????????
Megan Sherman Jan 2018
A goddess wrought in platinum aura sublime
Aloft, triumphant at starts and ends of times
All is created and all is destroyed there
Perpetual motion; thermodynamics flare
Men they try to copy her might, futile mime
For they can't emulate her deep disarming stare
Which transcends reason, inspires bards to rhyme
For the good and godliness in there
Outranks Medusa in enchanted hair
For I floated enchanted rapt in thrall
Enchanted by her bonny beauty rare
And her suppression through aeons the mind appals
But when henchmen of demonic devil's snare
**** her in the western warring call
Arrogant to think they'd suppress lady Kali's magic might
They will fail and they will surely fall
Irisidescent was her gestating glow
Glittering atman guarding all of space
Angels take us to see her to and fro
Show us in her the light of love apace
To deny her truth is a dank disgrace
We should regret that, repent and woe
That cultists **** her, proudly, in her prime
And make of diva's death a glutton's show
We are her children, but some of us do not know
She is able, what's hers is ours
A knowledge that begs to be devoured
In celestial, rare, immortal hour
Time not decreed from tyrant's tower
From her blessings wonderfully shower
Thankyou John for showing me
Temptress Kali, sweet, supreme
To her we went through eternity
Saw the celestial democracy
Of Christian and Hindu angels alike
Don't carry each other's heads on spikes
For knowing Allah's heart has light
Like all prophets peace their fight
Direction's guardians, Blake, Buddha, Ganesha
With love's light and earth enmeshed
Blake lamented spiritual decline
That children by Satan's plans in brine
But his flaming vision sees through times
And will path the way to freedom's climes
Buddha sat under the Bodhi tree
Knowing peace to set minds free
Hearts in confraternity
No you, no I, only one heart, WE
John the angel of the north
He told me John, didn't say which
I cried with pride when his enchanted drawl
Revealed a songstress from people's Liverpool
His message spoke to the one and all
Imagine the people, Imagine them all
Out with all that hates and that is cruel
Hate has made of each of us a fool
Ganesha, last but surely not the least
Has hankering heart of bright benevolent beast
The angel of the earthen east
Love gestate in him that never ceased
I saw him before, it was a while ago
But dressed in woman's form, with woman's glow
Vinayak the learned scribes would say
But all can know her either way
I saw her as one called Lexi that fine day
And it put an end to my dismay
To see us indivisible, goddess, same
When foolish man played dividing game
Gave "better" and "worse" to us as contending names
While he go questing for recognition, fame
But I do not resent that one for flaws
For all are irresistible to adore
Just want him to end this goddess war
That all men educated for
I digress, back to the flight
Where John took me on an epic sight
Next was angel of the earth
Diana of the heart and hearth
Lightworker born in tyrants sect
Learned how to love not genuflect
To hearts purity we would sure neglect
If we didn't long reflect
On fact that was surely killed
By one to who the devil shilled
What their fancy name: who cares?
To scare us with it: who dares?
She got our hearts on television
Appealing with her sweet precision
To love and brother her decision
Sought to heal the earth's contusion
Like Michael Jackson, arch angel too
Deranged as me, but sweet and true
To hurt children he didn't want to do
But give them nurture, play, they grew
The ones who really hurt the child
Are the ones who he reviled
Who sought to bring him down with lies
Again their victim empowered in the skies!
So many angels I could not count
Shakespeare whimsical on his pipe
Silent thinking thoughts so ripe
To think Lords slandered him as tripe!

Percey Shelley too was there
Chose to rebel shed claim to heir
Scaled the oxford ivory tower
and pamphleteered for freedoms power
Got kicked out in gray dull hour
But through time his insights rain and shower
As audience for devil are fewer and fewer
And peaces hope is ripe, empowered
Beyond angels, Shiva, meditator sublime
Is it audacity to ask what he sees in font of time?
Lids half open, rapt supreme
Painted with a pallet got from dream
Looked akin to Taylor, dancing wild
With heart and happiness of chiding child
That he akin to god reluctant to accept
But aren't we all Gods in retrospect?
That we are animals belong to tyrant taught
And in accepting that, our souls meet la mort
(If you read Plato backwards he fought
To encrypt truth of soul's genesis, answer sought: Really, it's stunning.)
Beyond shiva cosmic churning true
Said the blessed fires run through you
And I heard clear and remembering applaud
THERE IS NOTHING TO FEAR WE ARE ALL ONE GOD
There is nothing on earth as exquisite as you
It spoke turning my heart from red to blue
Said all the world is lordly love and light
A truth in which all nascent souls take flight
Musicians there, their sweetest songs unfurled
Their festival with all the time in the world!
Even ones in youthful splendour culled
By ones who will to hate heart's song and world
It was then that Lennon zoomed me to Kali
Swimming in that churning seismic sea
Sure as heaven a vision of eternity
And in a circle she danced fluid free
The circle was a wave and particle
Light, a string in theory, gave me fright!
For Kali I had been so rapt in thrall
I had not noticed THE GOD PARTICLE
Sounds crazy but experiments of thought
Are scientific method Einstein taught
For only in deepest dreams is it possible
To see what life could truly be
Thanks John for letting me climb your wings
And flying that particle over me

When we descend back to sprightly earth
The angels all changed place, assumed new roles
Diana cede to Jo, of equal warmth
Fought for lass and mass and for the proles
And Buddha went from northern angel sweet
To defender of the faith with God's trust replete
A role assumed by Jesus once before
As he ascend to god, irresistable to adore
The bit that got me most is this
And it gave me joyful bliss
I ascend to Buddha's southern role
See sunshine as a kiss, it made me whole.
Words are craved from the mind
Written down on pad do bind
With flow of an ink product of thinking

Oil paint of justice, the write up made of
Sometimes is injustice bound of
Sometimes shared experiences
Sometimes deepest imaginations
Sometimes pains, hate, joy and sadness

Words of mine flow for peace and love
For happiness and liberation from bond
Sculpting like Davinci's vitruvian image
As stars light up path of truth vintage

In my heart so, I write the words on book
As readers read the words they grow
Like wild plants upon a silent brook
Hoping one day everything straightened backing way of the Crook

As the words sound, resonant they as a ****
With much roots like a hard and heavy like rock
Sculpting my words requires deep thinking
For I encrypt them like road of the gods living
Whose gifts are uncontestable
As they burn within do unquenchable

by Martin Ijir
Check it fours collide, once I make crosses with my hand rides,
Two to the shoulder, one to the head and other at my waist, see the chase,
Lean on braille faith, books of holy words, I used em as swords,
Stab enemies, before they get near me, even if it's my own family,
Days of a benz, I thought of rolling in, but my conscious killed the trend,
Before the beginning, I saw the end, how can I find peace hidden within,
The state of society, at the hills of a destined fatality, cant even see reality,
Masked for tragedy, vaccine shots for everybody, times is crazy,
They **** people, but not the revolution, cant stop the pistols, from shooting,
Helgian dialectics, carefully selected, media inject it, people reject it,
That's how the psyops made to be projected, systems protected,
No overdraft fees, only people I see punished, is the working class see,
The bees done traveled a million miles, past the speed of light, float as a kite,
When I'm high on knowledge, giving a telepath, from the spiritual graphs,
Laid into my souls, feels of the unsaved souls, front page news articles,
Fake scripted miracles, free money for the people, high rise price principles,




I cant do fake ****, this ain't no tales from the crypt, but these words I'll encrypt,
Holy manuscripts, from the bloodline, of the apostle, to the modern day Aristotle,
Pack a pistol, just incase, I need a light show, I seal the fiasco, of pains merrygo,
They be like, there he go, yosef talking all that spiritual, ******* from the pits,
Of my brain, it's hard for me, focus in this day in age, shave too close, to the grain,
Now they mad, cuz I don't think the same, folks still in a childish range,
Acting they shoe size, by the time wake up, theyll be too dead, too realize,
They've been hypnotize, the stupidity of material desire, earth wind and fire,
Trailing ahead, see we living the days of Noah's bread, pieces chipped off,
These days everything is soft, dumb down generations, easy penetrations,
Tiktok is the newest plantation, slaves to the mind, of technology designs,
Got girls poping they behinds, got confusion running into the boys mind,
And at the same time, they say dont object her like a material design,
Real women replaced by trans, and vice versa, ***** and Gomorrah,
Just playing out the scorer, points to double clock paging the sorcerer,
Rebel civilian born to excel, took the Angel's pledge, creed of honor edged,
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
i never appreciating the Greeks
laundering the Hebrew
texts bound to the New Testament...
then somehow, "magically"
fusing it as a pre-scriptum
of the Old Testament...
   the savagery of a simple theft...
not plagiarism... theft...
μία παίζω επί τέσσερα -
   mia paizoo epi tessera -
a play on four...
          i never (up to a certain time)
liked the idea of the Greeks
sacking Judea,
for reasons akin to why
the Venetians sacked Constantinople...
third? or fourth Crusade?
when they brought back
the famous horses that adorn
the St. Mark's basilica of Venice...
you can almost say:
the ancient Greek pride...
     contra the myth of Rome being
founded by Trojans kicked in...
so they used the weakest
social minority to their advantage,
the Hebrews...
esp. the Hebrew writing...
   the crucifix came in handy -
μία παίζω επί τέσσερα
   mia paizoo epi tessera...

        mainstream ******* about
the Dead Sea Scrolls:
listen... that has monumental
interest for the Hebrews...
  notably surrounding the death
of the prophet Isaiah...
disemboweled, cut in half, whatever...

the Dead Sea Scrolls are...
pointless?
    the Nag Hammadi library...
St. Thomas' Gospel...
   oh look... found by a shepherd
in Egypt...
  and the flight of Joseph Mary & Jesus...
it took place: to where?
hmm...

                don't even get me started
on the archeological correlation
with accounts of the days,
written at the time of Nero
by a Josephus ben Matthias...

   which would also correlate with:
the book of Revelation would have
to have been written first,
as contra-propaganda against Nero...
an instigator gospel...
               and then the blatant
geometric abuse of the tetragrammaton
began...

as someone who attended a catholic
school...
   i can tell you that the Arabs were
influenced by Greek gnostics -
the gnostics traveled to Arabia...
heretic...

     but i can't remember which of
the four gospels are similar...
ah... Matthew, Luke & Mark -
there's your trinity -
   but what about John?
   point being:
  how would a Greek translate
or encrypt YHWH (ha shem) into
the whole affair?

   who is H no. 1 and who is H no. 2?
so which of the synoptic gospels are
the most similar...

suppose John is an outright outlier,
and can be considered yod (Y) -

Mark - 3% unique, 94% similarity to Matthew
      (i.e. 94% of Mark is Matthew),
     42% similarity to Luke
   (i.e. 42% of Luke is Mark)
Matthew - 20% unique, 55% similarity to Mark
  (i.e. 55% of Mark is Matthew),
        64% similarity to Luke
   (i.e. 64% of Matthew is Luke)
Luke - 35% unique, 79% similarity to Mark
  (i.e. 79% of Mark is Luke),
      70% similar to Matthew
(i.e. 70% of Luke is Matthew)...

  whatever the arrangement,
where 79% of Mark is Luke,
   or whether it's 79% of Luke is Mark...
Mark, with 3% uniqueness is a plagiarist...
John's not in it...
  
   point being...

given the concept:
  μία παίζω επί τέσσερα -
a play on four...
  at least i know which two evangelists
fit the bill of

                           י
                     ה‬    ✝    ה‬

                            ו‬          

Matthew and Luke are the most
similar...    
not with the archeological finding,
not with the contemporary
account by a Hebrew historian
Josephus ben Matthias....
   not with primitively hushed
propaganda memes
against the emperor Nero...

                  everyone i know who's
Irish always said:
Christianity undermined
the Roman Empire...
   and why would the Byzantines
flourish for so long,
and endure, past the collapse
of the Western Empire...
"miraculously"?

sorry... can't buy this **** any longer...
if i'm going to have to
pound against the doors
of the church like a crazed ram...
i will...
    i am done... buying this Greek
*******!
It was a, late night,
I never forget the pictures
In my eyesight,
Iight, just another drama, slash
****** and comma,
Cuz I'ma,
Take you on a one way street, where the
Devil's love to meet,
Beyond the crossroads, many
Guns explode,
See how many souls go,
To heaven but this life is hell,
How can I dwell,
In the house of the Lord,
When all the commandments failed,
Miss the extension of jail, Executed Moses route well,
Staffs turned into snakes, let it rattle
And bite at the Jakes,
It's been war since man,
Crawled out the slime,
Scents of apple pine, fogged its
Way from the treeline,
Had freedom, took sins over
The Garden of Edem, preachers sayin' believe 'em,
Tiers of heaven, I seen 'em,
Gnostic wisdom, watch me bleed 'em,
Manual scripts,
Serenade ya mind from the words encrypt,
Came off the mothership,
Every body tries to dip,
When death confronts em,
They wanna redeem,
But ain't no redeemin',
When the curves sickle is gleamin',
From the sunshine beamin,
Hunters of heaven,
Got demons screamin', either it be physical
Or spiritual,
Some folks do it for commercial, I do it
For the love of the dough,
Wait that's the worlds motto,
Greed love ecstasy and jealousy
Loves to follow,
Open up ya soul like a hallow,
Point blank,
At the purgatory gates, waiting
To get a thanks,
From the sender, no pretender
No exits only an enter,
Tormented by pain, died in vain, repeat
Visions of gore, on the window pane,
Seapin,
Down the walls engrained,
People standing,
Tryna make sense of the madness,
That came,
Three thousands flames,
Lit up and let the balloons go,
Welcome to the Passover show,
I still feel the pain from Lot,
Too many quick to body rot,
Tears of thunder, running down my face
Like snot,
Another victim next up for the plot,
****** sees no races,
Like the judges over court cases,
Only money is the culprit,
Feds to states love to benefit,
A Soulless maze, beyond where
Tactics are made,
No sun lemonade, we prefer dark shades,
While folks ain't seeing,
How the country is raid,
Guns on every corner played,
By the mass media,
Spitting cycle's of wars encyclopedia,
Y'all need ta,
Pay attention to the real, hot shots of the steel,
Leaving folks with a dead conscious appeal,
Let's be real,
I'm like hairs that still, from the coldness
That brings the chill,
Armors of a golden shield, dressed for combat, so I'm ready to ****,
Any intruder, take you through the thrills of
Buddha,
To suit ya,
Mind at ease, walk with me  through the galaxy of Galilee,
Reduction of chaos, so
Keep ya stress pain free,
You in the presence of the Godly,

— The End —