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Julian Mar 2019
Tantalized by the fractious limerence of a vestigial habiliment of the old order, we conclude that hypertrophy leads to a limbo where random permutations alloyed by the rickety limits of concatenation subsume concepts that are equivocal but populate the imaginations of newfangled art forms that jostle the midwives of rumination to lead to unique pastures that are intuitively calibrated to correspond to definitive unitary events in conceptual space that sprawl unexpectedly towards the desultory but determinative conclusion of a meandering ludic sphere of rambunctious sentiments cobbled together to either rivet the captive audience or annoy the peevish criticaster when they dare to inseminate the canvassed and corrugated tract of intellectual territory created ad hoc to swelter the imagination with audacious ingenuity that is an inevitable byproduct of lexical hypertrophy. In this séance with the immaterial realm of concept rather than the predictable clockwork reductivism of a perceptual welter that is limited by the concretism circumscribed by spatiotemporal stricture we find that an extravagant twinge of even the smallest tocsin in the interstitial carousel of conscientious subroutines compounding recursively to pinprick the cossetted smolder of potentiality rather than extravagate into the vacancy of untenanted nullibiety can spawn a progeny of utilities and vehicles for dexterous abstraction that poach the exotic concepts we fathom by degrees of sapience malingering in lifeless bricolages of erratic abstraction in manners useful to transcend the repose of abeyance and heave awakening into the slumberous caverns of still-life to make them dynamically animated to capture ephemeral events that defy the demarcations of wistful indelicacy of the encumbered bulk of insufficient precision.

Today we embark on a quest to defile the anoegenetic recapitulation of canon that litters the dilapidated avenues of miserly contemplation that has a histeriological certainty and feeds the engines that enable novelty but ultimately remain rancid with the stench of the idiosyncratic shibboleths of synoptic alloyed impoverishment that leads to the vast wasteland of cremated entropy that is a stained foible of misappropriated context interpolated usefully as botched triage for daunting problems that require a nimble legerdemain of facile versatility that we easily adduce to conquer the present with the botched memorial of a defunct salience. Despite the travail of scholars to retreat from the frontier into the hypostatized hegemony of recycled credentialed information, we often are ensnared by the solemn attrition of decay as we traverse the conceptual underpinnings of all bedrock thought only to dangle precariously near the void of lapsed sentience because of transitory incontinence that is contiguous to the doldrums of crudity but nevertheless with mustered mettle we purport that the very self-serious awakening to our hobbling limitations is akin to a prosthetic enhancement of ratiocination capable of feats that stagger beneath the lowest level of subtext to elevate the highest superordinate categorization into heightened scrutiny that burgeons metacognitive limber. Marooned in the equipoise of specifiable enlightenment countermanded by the strictures of working memory we can orchestrate transverse pathways between the elemental quiddity of impetuous meaning and the dignified tropes of transitivity that bequeaths entire universes with feral progeny that modulate their ecosystems with both a taste of approximated symmetry and a cohesive enterprise for productivity that rests on the granular concordance of the highest plane to the indivisible parcels of atomic meaning that solder together to exist as intelligible if strained by the primordial frictions guaranteed by the brunt of motion incipient because of the metaphorical inertia created within insular universes to inform sprawling conurbations of mobilized thoughts designed to reckon with the breakneck pace of the corresponding reality to which they explicitly and precisely refer to.

We must singe surgically the filigrees that amount to the perceptible realities that transmute temperaments into the liturgy of routine conflated with the rigmarole of neural dragnets of reiterative quips in an elegant game of raillery with our supernal contumacy against the rigid authority of aleatory vagaries mandated by a dually arbitrary universe in a probabilistic terpsichorean dance with the depth of our dredge for subliminal acuity or the shallow bellicosity of common modes of glib contemplation characteristic of the basic nobility of improvisation. This basic interface with the world can either be mercurial or tranquil based on the interactionism of the enfeebled trudge of surface senses or blunt intuitions and the smoldering impact of the vestigial cloaks that deal gingerly with the poignant subtext evoked in the cauldron of immediacy rather than pondered with the portentous weight of imperative singularities of uniqueness derived from the plunge into the arcane citadel of microscopic introspection so refined that the ineffable drives we seek to fathom become amenable to the traipse of transcendental time that rarefies itself by defying the brunt of compartmentalized bureaucracies administered by the fulcrum of stereotypical notions of acquired gravitas imputed to mundane pedestrian quidnunc concerns that defile humanity rather than embolden the subaudition of gritty punctilios that show the supernal powers of the axiomatic divinity of sharpened sentience to reign with supremacy over the baser ignoble components of bletcherous nescience that leads to knee-**** platitudes that provoke folksy peevish divisions. We should rather orchestrate our activity by heeding the admonishment about the primogeniture of poignant sabotage buffered by the remonstration of innate tranquility and finding a whipsawed compromise of rationalization with true visceral encounters with the fulgurant quips of brisk emotions that grind industriously into amorphous retinues of the trenchant human imagination to either equip or hobble the leapfrogged interrogation of veracity and more consequently our notions of truth and fact.

When we see the hackneyed results of default ecological dynamics, we find ourselves aloof from purported transcendence because the whimpered bleats and cavils of the importunate masses result in a deafening din of cacophony because we strive throbbing with sprightliness towards the galloped chase of tantalization without the luxury of a terminus for satiation. Obviously a growth mindset is the galvanic ****** that spawns the imaginative swank of the pliable modulations of our perceived reality that, when protean, showcase the limitless verve of our primordial cacoethes for epigenetic evolution rather than the stolid and staid foreclosure of impervious sloth that memorializes the gluttony of speculation about fixed entities rather than imperative jostling urbanity that dignifies the brackish dance with dearth and the exuberant savory taste of momentary excess because it engages the animated pursuit of limerence rather than the exhumed corpse of wistful regret. Nature is a cyclical clockwork system of predatory instinct met with the clemency of the prosperous providence enacted by the travailing ingenuity of successive cumulative generativities that compounded unevenly and unpredictably to predicate a fundamental zeitgeist calculated to engorge the fattened resources of the resourceful and temper the etiolated dreams of the fringed acquiescence of a hulking prejudiced population of dutiful servants that balk at the diminutive prospects of a lopsided distribution of talent and means but slumber in irenic resolve created by the merciful hands of defensive designs that configure consciousness to relish comparative touchstones rather than absolute outcomes that straggle beyond a point of enviable reference to shield the world of the barbarism of botched laments clamoring for an uncertain grave from the gravity of the orbiting satellites of apportioned wealth both sunblind and boorish but simultaneously inextricable from the acclimated fortune of heaped nepotism and herculean opportunism. The intransigence of the weighted destiny of inequity is a squalid enterprise of primeval abrasive and combative tendencies within the bailiwick of the indignant compass inherent to the system that fathoms its deficiencies with crabwise and gingerly pause but airs a sheepish grievance like a bleat of self-exculpation but simultaneously an arraignment of fundamental attribution erroneously indicted without the selfsame reflexiveness characteristic of a transcendent being with other recourses to clamber an avenue to Broadway without malingering in the slums of opprobrious ineffectual remonstration against the arrangement of a blinkered metropolis of uneven gentrification.

We flicker sometimes between the strategic drivel of appeasement and the candor of audacious imprecation of the culprits of indignity or considerate nutritive encomium of the beacons of ameliorated enlightenment because we often masquerade a half-witted glib consciousness lazily sketched by the welters of verve alloyed with the rancid distaste of squalor and slumber on the faculty of conscientious swivels of prudential expeditions with an avarice for bountiful considered thought and wily contortions of demeanor that issue the affirmative traction of adaptive endeavor to cheat a warped system for a reconciled peace and a refined self-mastery. We need to traduce the urchins that sting the system with pangs of opprobrious ballyhoo and the effluvia of foofaraw that contaminate with pettifoggery and small-minded blather the arenas better suited for the gladiatorial combat of cockalorums tinged with a dose of intellectual effrontery beyond the span of dogmatism rather than the hackneyed platitudes that infest the news cycle with folksy backwardation catered to the fascism of a checkered established press that urges insurrection while tranquilizing dissent against the furtive actions of consequence hidden behind the draped verdure of pretense whose byproduct is only a self-referential sophistry that swarms like an intractable itch to devolve the spectator into a pasquinaded spectacle of profound human obtuseness that pervades malignantly the system of debate until the reductionists outwit themselves with the empty prevarication of circular logic that deliberately misfires to miss the target of true importance because of the pandered black hole easily evaded by creatures of high sentience but inevitably ensnaring the special kind of dupe into a cycle of bellicose ferocity of internecine balkanization. The vainglory of the omphalos of entertainment is also another reckoning because it festers a cultural mythos of glorified crapulence parading a philandered promiscuity with half-baked antics that gravitate attention and the lecheries of gaudy tenses of recycled tinsel alloyed by debased aberrations of seedy grapholagnia that magnetize as they percolate because of the insidious catchphrases embedded in pedestrian syncopation that ignite retention and acclimate to mediocrity the sounds of generations discolored by faint pasty rainbows rather than ennobled by majestic landscapes of ignipotent mellifluous sound that stands a supernal amusement still for the resourceful trainspotter.

Despite the contumely aimed in the direction of contrarians for deviating from the lockstep clockwork hustle of stooped pandered manipulation that peddles the wares of an entirely counterfeit reality, I stand obstinately against the melliferous stupefaction of entire genres of myth and subcultures huddled around the sentimental tug of factitious sophistries regaled by thick amorphous apostates that cherish the vacuous sidetracked spotlight with fervor rather than pausing on the enigmatic querulous inquisition about the penumbras that lurk with strained effort beneath or above the categorical nescience of the shadowy unknown that often coruscates with elegance even in obscurity. I fight with labored words to spawn a psychological discipline that invokes the incisive subaudition of the pluckily pricked exorcism of true insight from the husk of buzzwords that constellate auxiliary tangential distractions from the art form of psychological discernment that predicates itself on the concept that the rarefaction of rumination by degrees of microscopic precision enables the introspective hindsight of conscious events that can be parsed without the acrimony of cluttered conflations of the granular prowess of triumphant ratiocination that earns a panoramic perch with the added luxury of perspicacious insight into the atomic structure of the rudiments of our phenomenological field and the abstractions that linger beyond perceptual categorization. When we analyze the gradients of anger, for example, we can either be ****** into a brooded twinge of wistful resentment or we can decipher that through heuristics designed to cloister the provenance of subconscious repose with ignorance there exists a regimented array of tangential accessories embedded deep within the cavernous repository of memory that designates a cumulative trace of compounded symmetries of concordant experience immediately perceptible because of the tangible provocateur of our gripes and the largely subliminal tusk that protrudes because of primal instinct that squirms with peevishness because of the momentary context preceded by the desultory churn of smoldering associations swimming with either complete intangible sputtered mobility through the tract of subconscious hyperspace or rigidly fixated by an arraignment of circumstances with propinquity to the deep unfathomed flicker of bygones receding or protruding because of the warped and largely unpredictable rigmarole of constellated spreading activation.  
When we examine the largesse of the swift recourse of convenience we forget by degrees the travail that once bridged the span of experience from patient abeyance in provident pursuit to now the importunate glare of inflated expectations for immediacy that stings the whole enterprise of societal dynamics because it vitiates us with a complacency for the filigrees of momentary tinsel of a virtualized reality divorced from the concretism that used to undergird interaction and now stands outmoded as a wisp beyond outstretched hands straggling beyond the black mirror of a newfangled narcissistic clannishness that shepherds the ostentation of conceit to a predominant position that swaddles us with fretful diversion that operates on a warped logic of lurid squalor and pasty trends becoming the mainstays of a hypercritical linguistic system of entrapment based on the apostasy of candor for the propitiation of fringed aberration because of the majoritarian uproar about touchy butthurt pedantic criticasters with a penchant for persnickety structuralism. With the infestation of entertainment with the ubiquitous political cavils engineered by the ruling class to have a common arena of waggish irreverence we forget that sometimes the impetuous ****** of propaganda is cloaked by the fashionable implements of a rootless time writhing in a purported identity crisis only to gawk at the ungainly reflection of modernity in the mirror and remain blissfully unaware about the transmogrified cultural psyche that feeds the lunacy of endless spectacle based on the premise that one singular whipping post can unite an entire generation of miscegenated misfits looking for commonality to team up against the aging generations that cling to the sanctity of cherished jingoism against the intentionality of a revamped system that malingers with empty promises using exigency and legerdemain to obscure the mooncalves among their ranks that march on with quixotic dreams that tolerate only the idea of absolute tolerance and moderate only when feasibly permitted by the anchored negotiation of the fulcrum of totemic governmental responsibility between factions that wage volleys of invective at each other to promote a binary choice of vitiated compromises of mendaciloquence that ultimately endanger the republic with either the perils of hidebound conventionalism and nativist fervor or the boondoggles of fiscally irresponsible insanity cloaked with rainbows and participation trophies. Reproach can be distributed to both sides of the aisle because ironically in a world where gender is non-binary the most important reproductive ***** in the free world is a binary-by-default despotism that polarizes extremely ludic fantasies on the left met with the acrimony of the traditionalisms on the right that staunchly resist the fatuous confusions of delegated order only to the sharp rebuke of the revamped political vogue that owes its sustenance to a manufactured diplomacy of saccharine lies and ubiquitous lampoons that are lopsided in the direction of a globalist neoliberal bricolage of moderately popular buzzwords and the trojan horse of insubordinate flippant feminism that seeks to subvert through backhanded manipulation the patriarchy so many resent using lowbrow tactics and poignant case studies rather than legislating the egalitarian system into law using the proper channels. I myself am a political independent who sides with fiscal conservatism but libertarianism in most other affairs because the pettifoggery of law-and-order politics is a diatribe overused by sheltered suburbanites and red meat is often just as fatuous as blue tinsel and sadly in a majoritarian society the ushers of conformity demand corporate divestiture in favor of an ecological system of predictability rather than an opinionated welter of legitimate challenges to a broken system of backwards partisanship and wangled consent. Ultimately, I remain mostly apolitical, but I am a fervent champion of the mobilization of education to a statelier standard that demands rigor and responsibility rather than the chafe of rigmarole that understates the common objectives of humanity and rewards conventional thinking and nominal participation to earn credentialed pedigree when the bulk of talent resides elsewhere.
Serpent King Oct 2012
A choice is to be made,
A choice that will decide fate,
That choice rests within your hand,
Pick wisely, your choice is the difference,
The difference between success and failure.

Will you choose what is right?
The path that is certainly the hardest,
The path that may lead you to your demise,
The path that consists of morals and rectitude,
Choose: to benefit yourself or to benefit others.

Will you choose what is easy?
The path that is somewhat corrupt,
The path that may lead you to prosperity,
The path that consists of the wicked and decadent,
Choose: to benefit yourself or to benefit others.

So go on, don’t be shy,
Step up to the poll, the poll of fate,
And choose, do not choose flippantly,
Choose correctly and be rewarded,
Choose erroneously; no help will come.
Harsha Sep 2018
I confessed my adoration declaring my undying affection along with my true intentions
You declined most gracefully (clear and concise)
Narrating you do not share the same sentiments, (it was a forgone conclusion)
Letting me down eventually yet elevating my spirits every time you smile;  
If you reciprocated even a decimal point of devotion or a fraction of affinity I hold for you
Metaphorically speaking it would acquire the vast space that now occupy all the stars in the known cosmos
For my affection towards you ran across time through galaxies extending throughout the infinite interstellar, finally resonating to the heavens unsettling angels and almighty god  

In space time is redundant; direction hold no relevance and gravity is absent
Similar to the romantic intentions you have for me – literally none existent
You will always occupy that pedestal you once accused me I have erroneously placed you on
I will always hold the candle for you, step off a bridge if you asked me to

I would rather deserve medals and not have them; than to have medals and not deserve them
Very much like you – case and point
Maybe you are like the sunset I only have the privilege of admiring its magnificence from a far
But never to retain it for myself I have to let go once the dusk disappear giving way to the stars

But I like to still envision; let my imagination run rampant; then contemplate in accordance to the   “Many Worlds Theory” that somewhere in the unknown multiverse, vibrating in a different frequency, we co-exist ecstatically ; now living & sharing an apartment in New York city; enjoying Chinese takeaway drinking cheap wine while listening to all your favourite songs from the nineties.  (Specially the Goo Goo Dolls, The Verve and Matchbox Twenty)
Seriously doubting my creativity questioning my writing skills due to the outcome and final print of this ballad i fear it got too personal, hence look forward to some constructive criticism from my usual suspects: 0
Mr Bigglesworth Mar 2013
Clickety clack, clickety clack go the perfect white plastic teeth as they clip together
Reality bites like a pair of comedy dentures sprung from the pocket of a sad faced clown
Look again; are they plastic? Or are they waterloo teeth plucked from the warm corpse of a cold friend
Either way they are far too close to my face for this to be funny.
For redemption he squeezes his droopy flower between finger and thumb
But to no avail.....The comedy squirt is missing; it is as dry as the tears on his powder white cheek
Squeak, squeak, squeak goes the wheel on his unicycle as he painfully pedals away
But it is not he that failed you....No it is those that stole the part of you that used to be easily pleased
Like thieves in the night, feasting on your happiness and enjoying the thought of wonderful you falling from your erroneously perceived perch
Well let them take their pound of flesh, if they can rejoice in my pain it will only erode them from the inside out
I renounce such bitterness because before long I will find me again, I will be stronger and better
I will take flight and alight a pedestal far higher than the one they imagined I thought I was on


“Just words!” screams that child in my soul...Actions are stifled like the image of a five year old you with a cloth clasped to the face; breathing on the anaesthetic evil of life.
You want to help but you can only see him through the one way glass of time, what is done is done and can only be undone through reliving this terror and fixing the damage
His struggle is short lived and the monsters descend, dragging him by a foot naked and bruised, head banging the contours of this corridor of depravity
He cannot hear your screams but his fill your ears like the blood of a million paper cuts, not one measured but together a pain like no other
Where was his saviour? Or was he always considered as a low risk category a misconception of strength and need
Was his ***, the white of his skin, the bread on his table, the money in his mothers pocket and the education he received render him ineligible for salvation
In short...“Yes”...he was expected to save himself and learn to save others...Those less fortunate.
Little do they know in some ways, once you’ve scratched the surface, they were far luckier
Their vices were less harmful than his own devices, as a little knowledge is dangerous
With great power comes great responsibility but some can be responsible for others without learning to take care of themselves.
Edna Sweetlove Aug 2015
This is a tale featuring the great superhero, SNOGGO

  That ******* dangerous horrific and scary beast would not terrify me.  Who was I?  Some little stupid ******* weedy spastic?  No, I was the great fearless SNOGGO!  Yes! Yes! Yes! I was the magnificent SNOGGO who had faced (without flinching much) so many humunguously terrifying events! So I picked up the mighty hammer and struck out fearlessly: *'Wham! Thump! Crash! Boom!
' I gave the terrfying monster a ******* great bashing.

  I was enraged yet not terrified more than was absolutely necessary. Did you erroneously imagine I was just some little weedy wimp afraid of attacking a terrible adversary without a platoon of Hummers (whatever they may ******* be) full of mercenaries recruited from the slum trailer parks of Hades?  'Take that you stupid evil cunty ideologue!' I yelled, 'Take that! And that! ******* take that!'

  My God, I bashed that vile and 100% hideous creature ******* senseless. I was so ******* brave, just as brave as the worthless ***** who will soon be called heroic US veterans killing innocent Arabs left, right and centre throughout the entire ******* Middle East to please their Zionist taskmasters, God ****** them. I was incandescent.  I was SUPER-******* SNOGGO! I would triumph over adversity in the name of ******* freedom's ******* bell! Ding-****!

  As so it came to pass that, finally after a tremendous struggle in which I nearly lost a fingernail, the immature pink dwarf hamster lay lifeless before me, squashed into a puddle reminiscent of a flattened dead hairy ripe tomato. 'Bring it on, you ****** *****,' I bravely thought as I ****** my comrade's flaccid **** eagerly as we cowered manfully in a burnt-out mosque, preparing ourselves bravely for a spot of rendition among the local orphans.
Zero Nine Jan 2017
The err isn't that I
Bear while they imbibe
Maybe entitled defines
Me and this sovereignty
The err isn't that I
Most often decline
The offer
The wine
It's such a shame that I
Only sleep open eyed
Erroneously minimize you
Passively underrate
K Balachandran Nov 2015
Thirsty,she came running to him, like any true seeker of wisdom,
erroneously believing this is a flower full of nectar, waiting for her.
That debacle of hers taught him what the real nature of human life is,
a seeker now, he  finds himself,filling his first cup of elixir from her.
In this play on the stage of life, one finds often donning roles least expected; are you resilient?
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
Sitting on the bench, hontoni arigato and hakagawa bows
Brushing my hair, thankful for a different language
Touching my knees, thank you errantly erroneously
Sit and gardens stare
Wildflowers in two words
Twos often wonder what was the word
Parallelogram vans wish they could be sentences
Pass me with the deans
Two summers bravery Illmatic plays
Slavery washed on me and flowed words with wabi-sabi
Ignorantly searching for simplicity, and intercepting
Lugging learned that he was sober and insightful
Things change inciting when he says I love you, but, I lost Arizona, leaving with LA pallbearers speaking in hymns for the lost weekend
When the two words, change to three words
And the different hangovers for different times
For the lively souls, rap still pays a visit to the nation that held millions, front and back
There lies a line of shining boundaries on the war that fire
Moving like a lava lamp
Back again, frontal lobe pulsates those ups and downs
Delightful lively and where did I lose my shine, and the fire of eyes flickers with the midnight spoon of flickering night streets
Uh soon, **** is a disease masking the ability to change
Politics is where greed wears the mask of morality
But, **** man the less I know them better, right
in the circus of an ersatz clown, as the frugal fire of the murders of the shining and the power of music, burning your conviction in my heart
Dying with the fires of hell, anecdotes of simple fools who can understand simple things
Fools are the wise men when they learn to sharpen their knives
Leave themselves in the sharp mouth of gorillas in the lava iridescent friends, grins writing your heart, your light, your life like a monolith
I miss your thoughts and knowing, and adding what's my own
What can I add to New York state of Mind, does the midnight strike the good night, and ask it to be gentle
As morning cup of tea of burning brilliance of dull months of April under the arid love, that's a moral desert I cannot stop, I'm on the road of life, the battered suitcases catch the candor of deserted times under the train, had it told me you'd to leave the intrigue of the speakeasies, with your French look and glib iridescence of shyness, Canadian stealing cars under the mobsters that leap out
Falling in love and breaking bad would start chasing you
Understanding good and evil, I've been the prisoner of the holy child
Antediluvian time and all that crap, mice among men we crawl the streets in the friend that remembers on the outside
Familial uproar bringing up the baby under the ****** footprints, under drama and cine lights
Life needs a little soul, and a little love to grow imaginative
These years go by, and the pensive life doesn't find solace in good company on the streets belonging to the streetlights, and angry streets with desolate angels

Desolation angels looking for their place in the sun
Fortifying a lot of observation, and marching band with their meters
Challenging themselves, music and jazz, we talk about inconsistency of the eon
Poems, of thee Buddhahood looking for a friend, in the supernatural darkness
Sagacious beams from the life dedicated to accepting the life of cause and effect where I had only but silence
My faction of the Eastern Bloc, we are looking in all directions and running in de jure circles
Facts of scientific, joking in your book and hysterical and naked surly curs on the fruit covered by the dust, I need to embellish these claps
In the fire times, of the watered Cupid in the Venus allegorical girl
Beezlebub lost his mind paraphrasing in Hell, arrived in Lucifer on the cross steeple
In the land of milk and honey, in the passion of the church
I'm laughing at my typing, and the technology has changed and so have the women
I'm the living embodiment of a ceiling now, spinning like an embryo or test tube vestibule
How am I gonna survive on the ability to live like someone has committed suicide for me tonight as it grows hoarse
Stand the generous suicide, it was painless
You know o'er head her still face has madcap laughter at her soundful something, I don't know after I climb the ladder and yell this is the answering bell to doors of Heaven and Hell's doormat, I am a plenary one
Virile yelling on the catatonic piano, we are imagining peace and lost like a dreamer, just like the flower that grows like the uncle in Albert, we just lost our only photographer from the ashram
Lost weekend- May Pang
Dr Peter Lim Oct 2015
A GIFT OF OLD AGE

If old age does a gift on me bestow
it would be just: silence
in my youngish and manhood years
I had exhausted every single sentence

erroneously borrowed from writers,
from professors, friends, the clergy,
leaders, politicians, loud-mouths,
fanatics and extremists ( I didn't know then)--an endless litany

and I discover much too late
truth is only a word thrown about
for the convenience of the speakers
the stronger their conviction, the louder they shout

as they have all the answers
' you don't know-- you out
there---it's about time you followed us
we'll rid you of every doubt'

how I detest slogans now
pontifications are the death of me
I am lost for words--silence I choose--
myself I blame for my past stupidity

soon,  too soon I'll be walking
to life's terminus--near, so near-
with a tiny signboard ' finis'
I'll be quiet and calm --without a single doubt or fear.
NIL
Annie Nov 2012
You can sit there, complacent
Erroneously analyzing the situation
Going over every detail in your head
Vacuously idle inside yourself

You can remain ignorant
Making sure to reside within your provincial conversation
Cautiously tip toeing past anything and everything
That would add substance to your existence

Or you can allow reality to elicit itself
Revealing the raw and dangerous truth
Shattering all predetermined assumptions
Leaving only a disappointing version

Of what you want to be
Who you are
And where you are going
But this decrease in ego

Would add an abundance of experience
To your soul
To your life
Release all restrictions

And be free
Beryl Starkovic May 2014
Love happens at random moments in time,
her chemical pheromones mingling with mine.
It is forever spontaneously combustible,
everlastingly irrational, and irresistble.

It happens to me, and to her simultaneously,
often it sneaks up unreasonably erroneously.
Wrapped in a perfect breast full of intoxication,
and supple red juicy lips of inosculation.

Inoculating my impaired brain to fight off reason,
her drunk tongue in my ear ultimately pleasing.
Her unseen warm places so wickedly entice me,
her cool intrepid breath so willingly invites me.

The bright stars radiate from her musical eyes,
like elaborate pyrotechnics on the 4th of July.
She has questions to answers I already bought,
feels subliminal messages I already thought.

Love; its that strange apple we've tasted before,
locked deep within our emotional repertoire.
Helseivich May 2014
Forgotten in the lust of the moment
His memories dissipate in the warmth of her movements
Her swaying curves encompass his mind
And her heated breaths eradicate his conscience

Her whispers illustrate his inner thoughts as she bares her skin
While his hands ambitiously caress her natural self
Recalling betrayal, his grip on her vices tightly for an instant in time
As she sensually digs her lips and teeth into his neck

The lights dance with feverish passion in their ambivalent escapade
As his memories ignite into a collective blaze of clouded lies
Her voice breaks the atmosphere with a powered summoning of excitement
While the bladed steel in his back pocket speaks to him briefly

Frozen like ice, the edged iron derails his controlled contemplation
Heated like flame, her crimson lips reassuringly invite his aged soul into her dimension of hellfire
Confliction between two halves disperse the balance within his plane of existence
Differing feelings unable to become one

Failure to merge two views of life
Alongside inability to accept separation of what was once whole
Leads to an amalgam of bewilderment and hatred deep inside the darkest corners of deception
The triggered fuse detonates inappropriately with his free hand now attached to the hilt of silver

Shadowed recollections of the others' tears invoke his fury with every stab
Purest inhibitions of hidden urges shatter sustained reality with every slice
Broken trust of ill-fated bonds reverse his mentality with every gush of blood
Tainted sight of misperceived intentions annihilate his reasoning with every anguished scream of her voice

Collapsed, her distorted body lay lifeless and unrecognizable on the carpet floor of the room
Scarlet liquid of distilled life now dripping menacingly from the edges of his manifested insanity
Hazy emotions interrupt his logic as he stumbles away from the scene he attempted to avoid
While erroneously dropping the reddened murderer to the floor with a crash
Sometimes, you can't really tell who—or what—is at fault.

March 2012.
Yenson Sep 2019
They call it flooding
sensory overloading and psyche attack
persisting harping on negatives acts created
this to a spineless snowflake would drive insane
they see it as gnawing at a scar re opening wounds for pain
or the torturing style of keeping a prisoner awake while music runs
playing unappreciated sounds over and over and over and over again
he sadist ****** buzzes believing we are doing his head cracking it

I see emotional intelligence
this is psychotic obsession by an inferior bully
imagine the damage inherent in minds such as these
imagine how useless inadequate unfulfilled and pained to do this
I feel sorry for them then I find it funny they put in time and effort
then even funnier  that there is no bases in reality or truth to it at all
perhaps sadly I also see there are loads of unhinged people around
then gainfully it all reinforces my confidence and self assurance
and in all modesty the difference between good education an *******

But there is something I do not comprehend
why ingrates have not considered that if their acts impacted
I have choice to leave site and not read their delusion therapies
do they imagine I am masochistic or numb as they erroneously say
I think not its simply narcissists are arrogant and lack introspection
which brings me to a salient assertion which again I state humbly
If I'm going to be driven mad it would not be by a bunch of asinine nutcases and semi illiterate spineless cowards and certified toe-rags

I rest my Lords......
Have you ever felt so distant
You just couldn't connect
Lethargic and emotionally inept
In Financial and moral debt

So to me to welcome death
Would be like I over slept
Theyre called nightmares when asleep but awake it's called regrets

So it's hard not to be depressed
stressed wonderin if my birth today
Made a difference or am I just a spec of dust under trumps toupee

left with nothing deep to say
No courage found to encourage me
to the world im just a villager a 3rd
Worlder, cuz life Honduras'd me

humbled me, it's humbling,
but still I fail to be artistic
Being a human full of temptation
Still erroneously narcissistic

Convoluting what's simplistic
And wanting, to want, so filled
Of ****, As the void shifts to over flow the emptiness til unfulfilled

Am I, a contradiction, like I con with diction, as my description
Paints poetic, how pathetic, like **** smelling cologne my depiction

Will still smell like a pool of stool
Can't justify bein my flaws, victim,
When really the fault of addiction
Is self inflicted a decision

Welcoming, compulsory prison
But I rather insult your intelligence
By making *** ups sound elegant
But the truth is there less Eloquent

So every room I enter the elephant
Is an element like it's on salary
That I feed with **** talk like I lead
As the Head of the peanut gallery

Who feeds religiously, hourly
Like bush wit twin towers I grieve it
In pain by its tragedy, but in secret
I Caused but sadly they believe it

When I lie to myself and others and do it Much, I forget what's true
And hoping you'll be less like me
... Is why I confess this to you ....
CLStewart Jul 2015
scapegoat extraordinaire dollar bill menace
mental patients ******* barrels white bells with tennis

candelabras peanut-butter bread milk intolerance
skateboards pickup trucks brick wall limits- rationing away---

canned vegetables and water sealed containers with dolphin parts
FOR US TO EAT while watching final Jeopardy.

Linked together by the hip double barreled shotguns with no voices
no choices - hear a faint whimper of resistance.

Take down that symbol of hate that history recorded erroneously
until skyscrapers fall once again but now from within and capitol buildings speak a new kind of education.

Your tears are false pride and mimic something you cannot possibly understand because you have been accosted.

You are radical- you are despair- you are mountains crumbling
you are children going hungry from lack thereof-

you are self-inflicted wounds licked by wolves
Her beauty afflict everyone thorough,
All my offenses rear, abroad are erroneously,
Thy blood fall unto the hands of enormity,
When abortion sin demise sentence approval,

Storming her world with sorrow and pain,
Brunette cursed this day for her innocence,
She rumble and crumble when no one listen her voice,
When they afflux for her condemnation in
What is forbidden for her life to be confiscated?

She prayed and hymn for that moment when there was
No time and hope to alter fatuous decision,
She crossed a sovereign tribunal when she contrasted,
The mighty king sovereign,
Her flop wrecked surmise scant,

She appeared strange in a ballad,
Sympathetic dwell in truth of innocent slaughter,
A path of death knew no one
Mister J Nov 2018
Its been a long time since then
When my hands held someone elses
Its been a long time when I last
Felt my heart yearn for someone

Awkward smiles flashing at each other
Flirting eyes staring towards one another
Hugs exchanged like there's no tomorrow
My kisses marking your cheeks and forehead

Emotions are in overdrive
As you look at me with your playful eyes
My heartbeats are skipping erroneously
As my lungs are gasping for breath

Your hands felt soft and sweet
As you happily laced them around mine
Your fingers touching each of my own
Each stroke sending jolts down my spine

Whenever you stare at me I want to melt
Ten seconds in your eyes feels like an eternity
It makes me want to pray for Time
to freeze
Whenever I surround you with my embrace

My words can't express how much you mean to me
My body can't endure such sweet emotions anymore
My time that froze when love was taken away
Moves again when you suddenly came
to my life

I love you Babe
No matter what they say
People will always have doubts
Even you may not believe me
But when I say that I'm in love
It is rare that I say it
With full and conscious conviction
Just like this one
So please
If you may grant me
Just one wish
No matter how long it will take
For you to reach a decision
Even if you make me wait long
Just please consider this
Please choose to stay
Here with me
Stay in my heart
Hold my hands tight
Embrace me fiercely
And never leave me alone
I love you
Hello Potato.. Err. Hello Poetry!

I am having difficulties in writing, I can't think straight.

Is this the effect of being in love, and that love being slowly reciprocated?

I dunno about you guys, but this has been the happiest I've ever been in a long time.

To my dearest Babe/Potato
I love these feelings
I love your company
I love the way you smell
All your good traits
All your bad traits
Even if I haven't seen them all
What's not to love?
I love how you stare into my soul
With those piercing eyes of yours
I love how you hug me tight
And how you hold my hands sweetly
I love every single moment with you
Everything we're having right now
Lastly,
I love you. :)

Thanks for reading Everyone!

-J
I W Jun 2013
identical identities bashfully bash themselves together,
like lunatics dancing round stairs, straining forever
forward towards twinkling stars staring them down
and burning black holes in their souls.

Light lasts longer than life leaking through cracks
towards the cellar door, a door in the floor
leading below where stars turn their backs
and halos alone allow honesty its roar.

Gregariously bellowing delirious dramatizations
at weary walls erected erroneously in isolation
causes angels to tread towards stairs alone,
up to where light once shone.
Chris D Aechtner Apr 2022
(snottah poem)

In full disclosure that the following expressions are based on conjecture, I want to add my own COVID-19 mythology into the mix.

I will use method acting to become immersed in a mythological character who has the desire to thwart the Moderna & Pfizer COVID-19 mRNA SGT intramuscular injections with a multi-drug-resistant & COVID-19 mRNA genetic therapeutic-resistant SCoV2 variation that people label erroneously, as: Omicron.

Not only do I—the mythological character—desire to thwart the Moderna & Pfizer COVID-19 mRNA SGT intramuscular injections, I want to protect the "unvaccinated".
Within that hypothetical, mythological scenario, I know that the COVID-19 mRNA SGT intramuscular injections can cause specific types of immune white blood cells to become transfected & die, & that COVID-19 mRNA injected hosts shed extremely harmful, artificially-elicited SCoV2 Alpha B.1.1.7 variation S glycoproteins that can harm the "unvaccinated". The "unvaccinated" already have enough to deal with, as is, especially as many of the "vaccinated" seem to become more socially tyrannical towards the "unvaccinated"—& in general—with each new "booster" received.

Aside from causing "Omicron" to become multi-drug-resistant, & COVID-19 mRNA genetic therapeutic-resistant, in my interest to protect the "unvaccinated" from the more potentially dire effects of "Omicron" infection, one of my main points of interest with "Omicron" is to edit a non-linear sublineage "Omicron" variation progenitor in a way that disables its ability to infect immune white blood cells via their LFA-1 receptors in order that "Omicron" infection doesn't cause a form of AIDS in the "unvaccinated". The mythological character, that is I, desires for some **** sapiens to survive the Transhumanist COVID-19 Great Reset agenda with as much of their original DNA intact as possible.
Another main point of interest of mine is to design "Omicron" to be extremely transmissable.

After having successfully designed my Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley-inspired Frankenstein's Chimera, "Omicron" doesn't leak from my laboratory settings. No! I spread the sizzling-hot, gorgeous Promethean Flame. Lab leaks are for the reckless without a good cause.

Upon hearing that my arch nemesis, Herr Doktor Fauci, whom I've loathed since 1994, will be participating in a fake-science awards ceremony in South Africa in the near future, I get an accomplice to fly me to South Africa in his private jet.
During the flight, I lovingly caress the portable cooling box situated beside me, in which is stored my greatest design—the checkmate that will help topple the abomination: The One-Eyed Technocratic Tower of Moderna & Pfizer COVID-19 Synthetic mRNA Genetic Therapeutic.

After landing in South Africa, I arrive at the outdoor fake-science awards ceremony with 1 minute to spare before it commences. I stand at the back of the crowd that surrounds the open-air dias upon which stands my arch nemesis with a gloating, malignant smile on his face.
While focused on Herr Doktor Fauci's rat-like face, I release my beloved creation, with a blown kiss, onto the swirling warm air of South Africa.

The atmosphere works divinely for the release of "Omicron" in South Africa. When news of my creation's arrival breaks, a main group of the world's population leans towards theories, hypotheses, & narratives of "host variant spin-off", & another main group leans towards theories, hypotheses, & narratives of lab leak, as the particular area of South Africa in question is sprinkled with biolabs that are involved in coronavirus research. Perfect.

Another variable leads many people away from the Least Trodden Path that meanders between the extremes of science & religion:
There are known "Omicron" variations in North America that pre-date my greatest design.

Via the use of my accomplice's private jet, I spread "Omicron BA.1" (that I dubbed, as: Omegatron 7.2) throughout the continents. I begin to spread some misinformation & disinformation on social media, such as,
"The Omicron variant is a hoax, a mythological cover (which it often is) for the adverse effects & events that are caused from the COVID-19 mRNA SGT intramuscular injections."

I don't own a white hat. I'm a red magician.
March 29, 2022
Yenson Sep 2019
They call it flooding
sensory overloading and psyche attack
persisting harping on negatives acts created
this to a spineless snowflake would drive insane
they see it as gnawing at a scar re opening wounds for pain
or the torturing style of keeping a prisoner awake while music runs
playing unappreciated sounds over and over and over and over again
them sadist psychos buzzes believing we are doing his head in, cracking it

I see from emotional intelligence
this is psychotic obsessions by an inferior bullies
imagine the damage inherent in minds such as these
imagine how useless inadequate unfulfilled and pained to do this
I feel sorry for them then I find it funny they put in time and effort
then even funnier  that there is no bases in reality or truth to it at all
perhaps sadly I also see there are loads of unhinged people around
then gainfully it all reinforces my confidence and self assurance
and in all modesty the difference between good education an *******

But there is something I do not comprehend
why ingrates have not considered that if their acts impacted
I have choice to leave site and not read their delusion therapies
do they imagine I am masochistic or numb as they erroneously say
I think not its simply narcissists are arrogant and lack introspection
which brings me to a salient assertion which again I state humbly
If I'm going to be driven mad it would not be by a bunch of asinine nutcases and semi illiterate spineless cowards and certified toe-rags
KM Ramsey Feb 2016
is it really so much to want to be loved
when i love so intensely
that it threatens to engulf my entire self
a rip current pulling me out
into a sea of longing that will never
be reciprocated
the pain is the searing of salt water
filling up my lungs
starving me of oxygen
and i welcome the blackness that
covers me in its warm embrace
how can i feel more love in
death’s arms than in the look you give me
your evasive maneuvers
hiding yourself from me when
i’ve laid myself bare

and is there anything more painful
than unrequited love from
the one who i have come to trust
implicitly
yet can’t utter that one word
can’t feel that emotion
can’t love me
the broken and beaten
sullied *****
and i see the fear in your eyes
the distance you put between us
a football field that i can’t traverse
mine-filled
though the sport was once what
brought us together
and you told me that i was different
from any other female you’d
encountered in the wild
the untouched forest of your pain

you made me feel special then
convinced me to stop running
to hang up my battered sneakers
and allow myself to cross
the finish line of my marathon of avoidance
you somehow assured me that
fear
my infernal terror that until then
could not be assuaged by proclamations of
safety

but i trusted you

and i never knew that trust
would lead to love
and the pain of that longing
would threaten
no
promise
to consume me whole
leaving only my bones to
bleach in the burning sun that
was once powered by my
immense love for you
that would never be reciprocated
because though you told me to
abandon my fears
yours still live in your holy of holies
which i am not allowed to regard

i never knew i had the capacity
to love
to let myself be opened up
but you cracked my ribs and
tore out my heart
without even apologizing
for the broken promises
and the erroneously created dreams
that i saw for us
a happiness i was certain i’d never know
and now i know
it’s true

at least i was right
in the end

if there was
even a modicum of chance
that you’d return my declaration of love
i would shower you in reminders
but no shower can wash away
the excruciating ache seated
in the exact center of my chest
that word
love
the only thing i ever want to say
to you
to lay everything out in the open
and to embrace the forbidden

i’d tell you i love you
constantly
if i thought there was even a
minute chance
that you love me too
but i suppose
along with my capacity to love
did not indeed come
a capacity to be loved.
letters to you i'll never send
You are awake, i am asleep in your pineal run through shuffling thumbs of discourse breaking over the atmosphere.  Channels push the erroneously held dissaray of the speculative. One more and more or less, less is more and more is the ***** of self control, shook by the hand that shook the world from its fantasy haze following the enigmatic resolution to an abando and awe struck as always.
Only nothing
Sean Fitzpatrick Nov 2018
By the grace of Neptune, and the humor of heaven,
We are free to carry on erroneously.
To the unsounding ailing, time has no meaning,
And in reality, indeed, presence is fleeting.
Saint Audrey Mar 2019
I'm feeling harmony, looking in your eyes
I always feel alright, when I'm with you
It's this sense of empathy I can't feel otherwise
I always feel alright when we're together

Emotional currency creating dependence
Once dissonant tones start weaving together on repeated listens
Love and joy, the heartache and pain
Harp on these notes till they all bleed together

It'll always be different, don't you
remember how you feel when you're alone?
Suffer from this static human conditioning
Blacking out whenever connections form

Memory doesn't appear to be part of this game
Disharmonious thoughts, that we refuse to explore

In defense of myself, there's nothing I won't explore
Identity flux cauldron, mixture of various inputs
and Impulses I might've felt as a kid or even earlier

That's how it is, but maybe not how it should be
But natural order will sort itself out, so I digress
One thing hardly taken into consideration
Our own aptitude for our self destruction

It's internal loathing, perhaps rightfully deserved
I can feel it too, every second glance in a mirror
Could we still strive for a better end?
Tomorrow is a new day, after all

...

Vanity in sacrifice, adorned in white
Polished posture, so significant it seems
Furrowed brow, heavy with self occupation
Empty vessel, paraded, held in no regard
But the construct of time will tell
Reveal true motivations

Self aggrandizing, should death be your value
Well groomed in your simple wooden box
But inlaid with ivory, paid for with suggestions
Carefully plotted, like paving stones

Considering bitter ends, a new pass time
In some attempt to add a bit of sweetness to the taste

...

I fear I'm deflecting again
You, the brunt of my dissatisfaction
Erroneously placed, if I err, stay with me
Or I might drift away while I sleep
Eshwara Prasad Sep 2021
You misread me and split our relationship by erroneously splitting the words I wrote in my letter.

Now I'm not sure who's to blame for our breakup.

My choice of words or your interpretation?
Ken Pepiton Aug 31
Certain persons among us make claims to knowledge
kept from any who cannot imagine that truth,
we, the every day curious kinds of people,
skeptic
become habitually drawn to knowers claiming right
to tell us one may see what one believes, nought else.

Living words, in message form, why must I see angels?
Whose mind may we leave be in us, if not this one,
alive in constant readiness to give a word umph,

past last clear preconception of a call to pay attention,
today, while it remains time out to redeem in meditation,

be tween one mind's aura and another's… imagining
we see light reflected from sources undetected,
so dark sayings illuminate our directed steps,
or we so say, for we believe we know, now,

is when today occurs, and when the code is broken,
hidden meaning sought with Frankl and Anne Frank,
and dramatic reenactments of battles that inspire
judgment, know who won by who continues being,
any with a will to prove a worth, as a gift in minded
heart felt will to say
we may pay more attention
than we are willing to take.

Easily, given meaningful words… these are the medium,
this is the way we conjoin minds in hives intending
to fill to overflowing, so long as flowers need ***.

==========
Cultured pearls.

Irritatingly apparently real
as any brought to become
by merest of coincidental

rare afflictions with beauty
the initial aim, with hands
put to guiding use, knowing

the growing of the nacre
in total absence of sunlight,
of course, we can't know why.

--------

Words authored in ages past,
during times of congregation,

calling all sundry formations
from noise to align as defined

with hands commands, come
and see the other side of all and
more besides, piling mountains
as clouds in late summer, promise
latter rains on latterly sown seed.

The interpretation of this situation,
now, and not another time, here,
where your mind asks mine explain,

lay it out, tell the whole of knowing
now is when we become our self,
first formed from stories told us,

as true, to assume in storyland,
we can talk with Nature as an entity
who uses words as you would, should
you awaken in a jungle denser,

made afraid for the moment, mind
time pause, now, we think, how say
the sages past, must we treat
with care for fear of proud wrath,

encultured hero worth, a weight
in the bag we measure worth with,

each kernal of barley corn, one third
the inch, which is never taken
for a mile, given will to stretch
the wonder of learning for ever's sake,

indeed, to take each one in a myriad
of steps while helping an officer
of the law of Rome, obey it,
by keeping the peace and pace.

So, long from now, these same words
may live on loosely linked orders
of natural progression as we learn,

stories told as true as plausible,
often include impossibly fortuitous
interference in this clouded realm
of certain reasons asking rational

division of soul and spirit, despite
the rule of Rome, in year 869
of this present domineering age,
whereby soul is spirit and vice versa.

Rightly divided now, by me, today,
boldly going, where some crazies
came before me, to make me pay
attention to the will called why.

Jesus, really? Must we accept
the testimony of mystics, as more
than guessing based
on earlier guesses, up from exstacy,
beyond the first guesses given theory,
suppose, we all pretend to know,
as we are reared to become
those who teach to those so lost,
that only our knowing known stories,
can redeem their worth to truth itself.

----------
Listen, let this mindform in you, think.

In creation mode of mind,
given words for anything named
in the world wide web of knowledge,

arranged in searchible stacks, related,
tied religiously to certainty beyond Delphi,

we trust, as we trusted kings, when few
could gainsay prophecy interpreted true,
after the epoch last ended began, in truth,

measure for measure, an inch is always
three barley corns wide, no more
nor less a length, may be taken for a mile,

as we rethink the idea, charity, feeding needs,
agape, we say means charity, highest form
of love one may bestow, at no cost, true,

charity for which we pay is not the same idea.

I come to offer thought through thoroughly
sieved shards of crystaline ***** scried into,
see, there, that occlusion? that is what you

can never know, until the guru says you do.

--------------
Yes, I do recall verses written,
before exposure to naked truth
that war's glory is as the emperor's
lastest fashions, lasterly erroneously

crowning a child's sense of silliness,
when I was a child, I thought, and still
think many thoughts, what to write,
what to let slip away,
what must be folded to put away,
later, imagining I ask your eyes to see,
leaving no description light might show
either real or made up on purpose to make

believable the reason children are exposed,
to Grimm collections of secular wisdom,
unholy impossible animations, yet,

by the time, I got to Phoenix, I was knowing
days depend from days past, pendulating,
swinging arcing swipes past all pretensions,

loose the bonds of wickedness, comb
the tangled locks of dreads,
Rastaferian dread, wisdom
claimed aligned with wonder weedlike
in trembling fear of hell to pay,
what if we make believe, we two, and you,
we come to here, along these lines, thinking

why is not a factor after all is said and done,
plain and smooth, polished to high sheen,

wedoms welcome any with means to make sense,
share our dreads, show us what it is you think
you know, about the ways truth, per se, makes
where no ways was,
moments earlier, pasts past, perhaps,
happening in all that happens, once mayhap

to you,
aha,
I see, you say, lying with your eyes, but knowing
I can imagine common sense, comfort, ease,
true rest in care akin to told of care in story,

we gather to remind our hive, here we make honey.


------------
Watch the dancing bees, rethink
how few persons on earth can think
there is no mind involved in thinking that,

planning means to become superfluous,
dripping sweet memories, in precious
pricey processes of transubstantiation,

sweet, we say, at a fine fix on the flaw,
we all lie, see, we say we know, we lie,

we lieve being true, as good and useful,
the ology of everything pundits preach,
and teach that we may obey, knowing,

no lie forms from truth's first will to tell,
taste and see,
swallow, and wait… at antepartum,
all we think to ask turns bitter in the belly.
Ok.
B Dec 2019
I have stared long enough at my ceiling that I confuse it with the back of my eyelids

I have named each of the tree branch textured constellations found there

My point is, I do not know how to talk about the rabbit hole without tumbling down it

If there were any paint left to dry, the blanks fired from my eyes would make for the most curious graffiti

The word restless comes to mind, but it erroneously implies that being asleep is the same thing as feeling comfortable when alone

I have fallen deep into the back of my head

My eyes, a distant stained glass window, casting the rainbow bridge back to where I need to be

This is the way
ilias Jan 2021
no days fill our hearts with only love
how could it be different, in a world like ours,
where distant countries are flooded by dead bodies
or even next door, in silent hours,
where our neighbours are
stabbing themselves to death
oh, we all are named brothers and sisters erroneously!
repress, repress, good old boy,
for it is the only option left
the dust of the fallen, mixed with leaden joy
but my heart is bitterly cold!
I am vanished like used munitions
and war seems to never end
oh how I long for peace
Eventually vices will witness me crow king
cough'n affliction caw hearse courtesy
smok'n since me yay high,
hence appellation (mountain) wheezer
natural set of adult teeth (rotten to the core)  
easily plucked out courtesy tweezer,
this har nonestablishmentarian,
never prevaricator nor crowd pleaser,

whose barreled chest attests quantity
maximum grog, which equals capacity of keezer,
or analogous to quaffing
amount stout beer downed by yours truly
(rough estimation by dickens)
equivalent to hinted wealth of Ebenezer
Scrooge, who could hypothetically
purchase abundant amount of ale.

Above fabrication nonsense yay
figurative hook to grab attention my way
ain't one applicable factual word written,
cuz I take poetic license
with no intended off fence touché
harmless figurative foil
as usual trademark innocent word play
geezer who sports brown golden locks
employs good humor as keyway
to unlock mine mindscape entranceway.

After posting poem comb what may,
drink'n like vichyssoise floundering fiend,
I reluctantly brush aside
male pattern baldness without dismay,
cuz patrilineal genetic trait
shows no happy shiny pate
rather paternal ancestry
somewhat thick with strands
turning sixty plus shades of gray.

The following recounts true account
one hundred purse cent
actual bonafide certifiable event
attested to courtesy one germane gent
badinage represents laughable intent
as he deeply inhales cigarette brand Kent.

Though no physician,
this aging baby boomer
former long haired pencil necked geek
absolutely, intuitively, erroneously, and
unequivocally sensed hair loss (mine),
at first a speculative rumor
not simply rooted in my (ahem) head,
no matter a minimalist groomer

nevertheless, thinning follicles,
upon dawning realization, sans medical
sought relief thru good humor,
though within this balding cerebral noggin
became repulsive as if my scalp
pulled pate rendered as a tumor.

Thus an unexpectedly present surprise
when in private consultation in the guise
as out patient client (early afternoon
December 19th, 2018),
where I did fraternize
and kibitz with the medical assistant

(old enough to be my...sister),
aye did exercise
mild mannered mien mean, aye do patronize
before doctor Rudolf (dearly
reigned) Roth, a practicing
Dermatologist told me no lies

his instant karma knowledge - mainly his
thirty seven years expertise
sought to excise
a prominent non cancerous mole approximately
centered middle of back
a small patch of skin,

he needed to anesthetize
nonetheless, a reassuring persona,
yours truly did lionize
(not merely, cuz
he received a five star rating,
specialist under auspices

of Penn, Medicine)
in Radnor Pennsylvania),
his modest calm did neutralize
any uneasiness, as did his pronounced
humility earn kudos to idolize
such rarely present gentility, and

unwitting capacity did harmonize,
and maximize significance to me,
asper my thinning limp
hair logically rationalize
identified underactive thyroid gland

(hypothyroidism) tubby,
which didst legitimize
no hair brained rooted concern,
hence...less reason to catastrophize',
which for no reason I
wanted to mildly emphasize,
hence choice to apostrophize...

— The End —