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Paul Butters Nov 2015
This poem is by Norman Stevens in response to MY poem about HIM. Have made some minor changes.

In *****’s Bar on High,
Sheltered from Cleethorpes sea and sky,
Paul Butters utters words of cheer,
While quaffing his pint of *****’s beer.

He sets about his spicy meal,
Loading up for his evening’s sport,
When he’ll aim to be the real deal.

Owner Bill’s Angels prepare another stew,
To help down another “home –made” brew.

They nip outside for another “staff meeting”,
Paul says they’ve gone for a ***,
But THAT I’m not repeating.

Throughout these capers,
Norman reads his informative papers.

Sipping his Nectar Beer,
He’ll leave in good cheer.

Norman Stevens
Assisted by Paul Butters

(C) PB\NS 17\11\2015.
As I say, it's Norman's poem - was handwritten by him and embellished by me.
I love the evenings, passionless and fair, I love the evens,
Whether old manor-fronts their ray with golden fulgence leavens,
In numerous leafage bosomed close;
Whether the mist in reefs of fire extend its reaches sheer,
Or a hundred sunbeams splinter in an azure atmosphere
On cloudy archipelagos.

Oh, gaze ye on the firmament! a hundred clouds in motion,
Up-piled in the immense sublime beneath the winds' commotion,
Their unimagined shapes accord:
Under their waves at intervals flame a pale levin through,
As if some giant of the air amid the vapors drew
A sudden elemental sword.

The sun at bay with splendid thrusts still keeps the sullen fold;
And momently at distance sets, as a cupola of gold,
The thatched roof of a cot a-glance;
Or on the blurred horizon joins his battle with the haze;
Or pools the blooming fields about with inter-isolate blaze,
Great moveless meres of radiance.

Then mark you how there hangs athwart the firmament's swept track,
Yonder a mighty crocodile with vast irradiant back,
A triple row of pointed teeth?
Under its burnished belly slips a ray of eventide,
The flickerings of a hundred glowing clouds in tenebrous side
With scales of golden mail ensheathe.

Then mounts a palace, then the air vibrates--the vision flees.
Confounded to its base, the fearful cloudy edifice
Ruins immense in mounded wrack;
Afar the fragments strew the sky, and each envermeiled cone
Hangeth, peak downward, overhead, like mountains overthrown
When the earthquake heaves its hugy back.

These vapors, with their leaden, golden, iron, bronzèd glows,
Where the hurricane, the waterspout, thunder, and hell repose,
Muttering hoarse dreams of destined harms,--
'Tis God who hangs their multitude amid the skiey deep,
As a warrior that suspendeth from the roof-tree of his keep
His dreadful and resounding arms!

All vanishes! The Sun, from topmost heaven precipitated,
Like a globe of iron which is tossed back fiery red
Into the furnace stirred to fume,
Shocking the cloudy surges, plashed from its impetuous ire,
Even to the zenith spattereth in a flecking scud of fire
The vaporous and inflamèd spaume.

O contemplate the heavens! Whenas the vein-drawn day dies pale,
In every season, every place, gaze through their every veil?
With love that has not speech for need!
Beneath their solemn beauty is a mystery infinite:
If winter hue them like a pall, or if the summer night
Fantasy them starre brede.
Elizabeth May 2014
Today I am superwoman,
I go to three jobs, one meeting, two classes
I wear five hats throughout the day.
I got those lovely eyebags as my trophy.

By being superwoman I accomplish anything,
everything that they told me I couldn't do.
I wanted to be in student government...
the popularity vote told me no but I showed them
I could do that too. They said you can't have everything
and here I am sitting with it all.

In this day of superpowers
I fly from class to job to job to job to meeting to home
but I am the most human today.

I laugh in the face of my fears of failure because I have already gotten on the road to success.
I cry because even I am entitled to a good cry every once in a while.
I am cranky because it evens out the crazy bubblyness that I always am.
I radiate happiness although I am drowning in work
I support and lean on those around me causing a tangled connection of love

In every capacity I am me, happy, sad, lethargic, energized, hyper, lost, leading.

In every Wednesday, I remember that my humanity all in itself makes me just as super human as the next girl or guy.
Jamie L Cantore Dec 2014
Take the even numbers of the set 0-9 this time

and subtract the odd

like so:

Evens & Odds
////////// -  /////////
02468 - 13579 = -11111

As in part 9, drop a number from each side as such:

0246 - 1357 = -1111

Again drop a number like so:

024 - 135 = -111

And again such as:

02 - 13 = -11

Finally

the equation:

0 - 1 = -1

That's all folks!         ............Or is it?
Hope you enjoyed this series! All equations were created and solved by me. However, I am sure I am not the only person to figure most of these out. ---If I discover any more of these, I will post my findings.
Jamie L Cantore Dec 2014
I hope someone out there enjoys my Math poems.

It took me about 10 minutes to figure out this
set of equations.

If you take the odd numbers from the set 0 - 9

and subtract the even numbers you are left with 11,111
  which is a series of 5 ones, ( 5 is the number of odds and the number of evens on each side of the equation.)

13579 - 02468= 11111

Then you drop one odd

and one even to get a 4 series:

1357 - 0246 = 1111

Then another like so:

135 - 024 = 111

And as before:

13 - 02= 11

And finally you are left with the last odd which is one
and the last even which is 0 and you get:

1 - 0 =1
Desperado Dan
Is a man with a plan
To cash in a bit of Kensington
On some high grade *****
Cos right now he's got a couple of scores
But not a great deal more to loose

You see, our Dan is a master of the modern day quill
He works an open office, clocking in and out at will
But after reading all the greats from his and every bygone age
He lives in a time where the mp3 subverts the written page

So night and day he hums away
Searching for that hit chorus
And he knows you can't cut corners
When it comes to tanking up on creative juices

A Desperado is larger beer spiked with tequila
Some say it's for scoundrels to make charming girls easier
But our Dan's quest is noble.
He has a dream we'd all like to believe in
He simply wants to do his whole life’s work in just one evening
And a Desperado seems to conjure all six hats within one head
So if two minds are better than one...well, nuff said

He dilutes them at first, pulling the wool over his own eyes
Until, catching reflections on the glass, he sees through the disguise.
And before long you'll find him chugging straight from the bottle
Then, in a blur of paper and pen, Dan writes like there's no tomorrow.

He writes and writes and writes some more
a couplet, a bridge, an underscore
Ploughing verses like trenches through the ****** white paper
Dropping napalms just to see what pops it's head above the wreckage.

Then, surveying the new landscape, he quarries in every direction…

Linearly; because it's most straightforward like that
Circularly; because they used to think the world was flat

Logically; because... Well duh!
Laterally; which gives the brain a stir

Diagonally; some kinda a + b = c rap from back in the day
In reverse; because sometimes we unknowingly face the wrong way

Unapologetically
Down dead ends
Just to see the view

He picks up clichés and looks under them for clues

Desperado Dan
Calls for desperate measures
As the evening wears on
He indulges all his earthly pleasures

And down they go with a Yo ** **
What a ***** desperado!
***** I say! Now he's mixing with ***
Still his pencil flies with a blistered thumb

'E starts to drop 'is H's
And forgets to cross his l's...sorry t's
He paces back and forwards
An he talks like mushy peas

Rummaging frantically through chaotic pockets
Conjunctives falling to the floor
He can't find the word he's after, but who cares? There’s plenty more!
He begins to vengefully split infinitives in two
And hurl metaphors across the kitchen
Sending mountains of ******* up ***** of paper flying
Like snowballs after the thaw
Which slowly melt into puddles of lonely vowels and consonants.
Long after he has gone.

----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------------------

But all that was before the "Doodley Dee"
And his dream came true with a change of key
The song which people can't help to hum
From OAPs to the I-generation
And people hummed it all over
And in all sorts of weather
Until someone decided we should hum it forever.
And they paid Desperado Dan for every hum
Not bad work for a blistered thumb

So now our Dan seems a lot less desperate.
From time to time he evens finds an hour or two to rest a bit
Sitting on the veranda of his studio in the south of France.
Applying the finishing touches to another comedy romance.
Sipping a very fine Sauvignon, no Desperado in sight.

They're all safely packed away in the cellar

Just in case he gets the urge

Late at night.
Tiberius Thomas Jun 2014
sitting in pity and self loathing
pondering what i am proposing
anguish increasingly near
questioning what was clear

things that used to make me smile
dancing in my brain, staying awhile
tears about to burst i give in
back to the past with a grin

young in love, cuddling my girl
"ill never leave you" we concur
skin tingles i feel her touch
nothing but warmth in my clutch

satisfied my brain evens keel
enough to allow me to deal
alone again cursing cupid
how could i have been so stupid?
okayindigo Mar 2014
when I was born, I had
nine lives left, I was bereft
of scars, delicate as fireflies
in a jam jar
(the kind I’d punch holes in the lid for,
the kind I’d bring indoors
and set on my bedroom floor as a fairy nightlight, until I got bored
and one by one they died silent as the pollination of fornicating spores.)

anyways.

9 lives left, age: 2 months
but then one day daddy looked the other way and splash!
the baby’s in the *** and the ***’s still hot
(there are witches in the air but we don’t care)
looks like soup tonight! yum yum
third degree misery etched on her body,
one life done.

And nothing to show for all of her fun
but a twisted left arm and a ***** of a sun (burn)

One life down, eight to go, you know
because she’s a fox, which (if you peek over the ledge of your punitive box)
is like a cat. And that, as we know, means
nine lives, and that’s that.

well, eight now.
if you want, I’ll tell you how she (i) is (now) down several more.
worry not little one, fate always evens out
the score.

The second was me and a boy (THE Boy, if you know what I mean)
it would seem he and I had climbed two stories high
hand over foot over hand over foot over
the parking lot right up next to the sky
and then oh-
wait.

I’m falling.

(breathe in, breathe out)

(the itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout
down came reality and washed the spider out)

and there are
butterflies on the tip of my tongue and there is
a word stuck in my stomach.

he held my eyes just like I couldn’t hold
the pipe as I fell, right towards the earth between heaven and hell
now there are hot knives in my ankles and I think (I can’t tell)
I’m alive.

(stop drop and roll)

yes I fell from the roof through the sky. No I’m fine.
just one more life gone, I saw it flash before my eyes in a short space of time
that was roughly
the shape of a stop sign, or maybe a wind chime, or maybe
it was the shape of the sunshine.

Whichever way, that’s two down, seven to go;
the next one I lost when I rolled off the road.

We were going seventy and
the love of my life was sitting next to me and
his skin was beautiful in its caramel coffee complexity and
he wasn’t
paying
attention.

There is air in my lungs when I should be history
but the SUV only bruised my knees as it rolled, glass shattering
pit-pattering over the pinwheel of perfect destruction
around us.

I felt myself decide that it was okay
if this was the end.

At least I’d go with my best friend, there’s some
good stuff. That, I conceded, would be enough,
I could die young
if who I was in that moment
could be the freeze-frame of my song,
the thing that’s left
after I’m gone.

Three lives gone, only five left-
the next one is casually snipped like a price tag
after a theft when I fell
(again)
from the banyan tree and flipped my pancake
(click-clack) like a jacob’s ladder
I should have broken my back.

As I fell I yelled in my head
there’s nothing to fear but fear itself
(till you’re dead.)

four down, five to go Indigo.

Here we go.

(to be continued.)
Jamie L Cantore Dec 2014
PATTERNS IN THE MATH

04862 + 31795 = 36657

0486 + 3179 = 3665

048 + 317 = 365

04 + 31 = 35

0 + 3 = 3
<><><>
<><>
<>
Justin Lee Dec 2011
Death is an odd number.
I have multiplied an even temper,
an even heart, an even playing field,
two parents, two major traumatic events,
four major moves, eight stages to a break down
twelve stages to a recovery four times.
I have mulitiplied tens of girlfriends
and hundreds of friends, all with even little
zeroes sitting at the end of their quantities and
qualities
And all I get is 7, 25, 57, 143, 1, 1777, 945, and 3.
And no love can exist if not divisible by 2,
so I imagine Death is
just the absence of love.

I feel cold now.
King Panda Dec 2016
You are bold
the inspiring queen
of Fs and
As
and I
a crafty lizard
this christmas mug
from which you drink
these scissors with
which I shred
words
our stories all
come together
on top
of a golden rose
24 carat
sampled with
my teeth
secured
in my bedroom
all of it
is yours
and
the last coin
evens
my luck
from yesterday--you got your grades in on time, twin...with style and 20 extra minutes.
Vile = Veil = Evil = Levi = Live
Lust = ****
Hate = Heat
God = Dog
Art = Rat = Tar
Slow = Owls = Lows
Life = File
Blue = ****
Fire = Rife
Psalm =Palms
Words = Sword
Ram = Arm
Stone = Notes
Time = Emit = Mite
One = Neo
Seven = Evens
Raw = War
Salt = Last
Door = Odor
Read = Dear = Dare
Snake = Sneak
Star = Arts = Rats
Ear = Are = Era
Leap = Plea
Low = Owl
Heart = Earth = Retha
No = On
Hatred = Red Hat
Dad = Add
Robe = Orbe
Verse = Serve = Sever
Dan = And
Cool = Loco
Mary = Army
Baby = Abby
Stain = Saint
Name = Mean
Tea = Eat = Ate
Male = Lame
Car = Arc
How = Who
Meat = Team = Mate = Tame
Stare = Tears
Teacher = Cheater
What = Thaw
Part = Trap
State = Taste
Scared =sacred
Written by Keith Edward Baucum
Anagrams
Paul Butters Nov 2015
Norman Stevens
Always gets evens:
Reads my stuff on his smart telly.
Go on Norman, give it some welly.

There you have it, a Clerihew,
Oh what an how to do,
Very silly, very true.
Why I love them, I haven’t a clue.
Time now for another brew.

As I’ve said before:
Write a Clerihew:
It’s easy to do.
Two rhyming couplets of any length:
Short and simple, that’s its strength.

Paul Butters
For my *****'s pub drinking-mate Norman.
Olivia Kent Sep 2013
Chances!

Faith in an empty space.
Blazing maybe,
After a perfect kiss.
Loving perhaps.
Given half chances.
After gone issues.
Spent like chocolate pennies,impractical.
In wild romances.
Chances are wishes and kisses are dreams.
Nothing at all is what we perceive.
Chances are odd.
Not even the evens.
Dressed up to the nines, but only find sevens
Where nothing else matches.
When nothing else matters
In the sentiment from the diligent delicacy.
As only women bleed.
****** tears bless face.
Enigmatic smile retained!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
robin May 2014
1.i took a breath, punched the door. he asked if it helped at all,
rubbed his temples when i did it again,
told me to call him when i felt like talking,
we havent spoken since. he isnt important to this story.
what matters is how unsafe i feel just saying your name, how unreal
you make me feel. imaginary and implausible. wish fulfillment so blatant
im amazed i ever thought i was something more
than a myth.  

2. i can't give you what you want/couldn't give you what you want. something like a romance film,
candles on the shore,
not blown out by ocean winds.
something where i cry your name or
kiss you when you shout
instead of screaming back,
perfect plaster queen crumbling
for no one but you.
where i sing and you sigh.
where at least one of us cares.

3. im still not sure who's to blame
my heart is swollen my hands are bloated there is motor oil
pooling in the hollow of my palms, did you do this to me?
did i unravel you? im still not sure what happened. i stopped asking for help a long time ago

4.  i do not feel safe.
you are behind me always.
i am sweating bullets and you are loading your gun.
you are a breakdown waiting to happen.
you are my genes planning treason.

5. you're a fake.you're a fake.you're a fake.
buying me coffee and spitting down my throat like
it evens out in the end.you're so kind.you say youd never hurt me as if
i couldnt see my ******* intestines in your fist. you're a fake.
you're pyrite, fool's gold,
costume jewelry cutting off circulation to my hand.

6. i know everything sounds the same.
i know i give the same speech every time.
i know repetition is getting old and
six breakdowns in the same month is
overdoing it. i was trained from birth to **** up my life
and im exceeding expectations.

7. [image: memorial day card,
'we had nothing worth remembering' inside,
hallmark logo on the back]

8. i didnt really want to be real anyway
distraction.jpg; inadequacy.png
Brody Thompson Oct 2012
I dont support any kind of war.
Dont care how important,
Killing evens no score.
Keep the aura as bright as you can,
Take down the rope
From the ceiling fan.

Do anything different,
And we're all mad hatters.
On the inside is what counts
But on the outside
Is what matters.

I'm not a fighter,
Im usually a lover.
Feeling like a foreign spy
Who's about to lose his cover.
But since im just an evil soul
Cause I believe in a moral goal,
I'll throw my penny in the wishing well
And I hope they serve beer in hell.
Modern Serenity Oct 2014
Can you recall when we met in a support group?
You were with Isaac who was insanely in love with Monica and her *****
You took me to your home which you gave me a basement tour
I thought to myself we were going to be best friends or maybe evens more

I gave you my ideal and ravishing book
remember how you couldn't stop talking and I knew you were hooked
You and I had our ''Okay'' which became our own flirtatious ''always'' forever
I just got butterflies and knew that some how we would always be together

Can you recall when you said you were cancer free?
You took the tests and god your test results lit up the heavens tree
You are just amazing calling me Hazel Grace
which always just made me laugh and put a smile on my face

The day came of your funeral
everything was just certainly unreal

But then I remembered: That's the thing about pain it demands to be felt
#The Fault In Our Stars
Sally A Bayan Apr 2017
High up there, I glance at you
You hide again, sometimes peeping,
While I put aside
My worries for this day.
Waves and curves seem to shroud you
This early April  evening
Though you are perfectly rounded.
We watch each other,
You eye me down,
I look above, to you...
We speak in our silence,
With me, listening,
Offering all the warmth i could share with you,
For, your Ivory white light, is cold and distant
Unlike your warm yellow crescent
.........of some nights ago....

This evening, you awake in me
Dormant, unsettling thoughts,
I am confused, yet,
You show me a panoramic view of faces
They dwell in my mind as I gaze at you
But there is this brilliant one
That smiles beneath your moon glow
It stares me in the eye,
Speaks to me, without words...

My breathing evens out,
It becomes a melody
Because the time has arrived...
These few moments,
When restlessness drifts away
As you shine down on me
When impatience departs from me,
And I am calmed suddenly
And I don't know what else to think of...
For, this evening,
You, and this brilliant face have once again
........comforted me....
I am warmed, I am glad.
I am now smiling, looking up, at you,
My April moon, I bid you goodnight,
I am beaming, as silently...I thank you....


(A repost of an older poem...edited)


Sally

Copyright April 11, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
***not much to share, just a brief evening break, a short,
-wordless conversation, between the moon and me...***
Taylor Henry May 2013
"You're a disaster", he said.
I know, I know, I know.
Because I never know where I'm going.
Because roads are still new territory
Even though I've lived here for years.
Because I sneeze in evens and cough in odds.
Because my socks never match
And you still react like you're not used to it.
Because I catch pitter-patter on my tongue in spring.
Because singing in the shower counts as talent
Although my snaps are missing rhythm.
Because I wrap my guilt thick like a December sweater.
Because I regret nothing and everything
A moldy breaded soup sandwich.
"You're a disaster", he said.
"But I'll always want to clean up your messes"
Jamie L Cantore Dec 2014
0 plays the role of an even number perfectly, because it
is an even number.

You can see this especially when you reverse the operation
when subtracting evens from odds.


Odds & Evens
///////// - //////////
97531 - 86420 = 11111

7531 - 6420 = 1111

531 - 420 = 111

31 - 20 = 11

1 - 0 = 1
Took me 2 minutes to figure this out.
noruwei Apr 2013
it's true
they did love you once.
feared you too, but
maybe that's the same thing,
gave you
roast pigs and animal pelts
and you didn't even have to ask.
a pretty good arrangement.

now
i'm the only one that sticks around
and even then only
when i'm bored.
i'm taunting and i'm cruel and you, love,
are not a great conversationalist
but
it evens out.

so i get to
take jabs at you
til you're frothing at the mouth,
like seafoam, briny
shaking valleys and hills with
your anger. and i can't help but laugh
at you. you,
with your dusty ruby eyes
(that lie now in a museum
somewhere
because the white men walked into your temples and plucked them right out -)
and your stone paws,
roughly hewn, mossy,
ugly.
we laugh and laugh
about what you lost
between galileo and darwin and euler,
so many years and the
backs of men.
npwm 5
ls Aug 2018
She doesn't like odd numbers
so I kiss her head
in twos,
her cheeks
in fours,
and her lips
in sixes,
eights,
and tens.
SassyJ Jan 2016
The moonlight sways and swine
It whispers on the illumination of the stars
A mirage of the skies evens the pace

The stroll in the silence of the woods
A haste, the heat, a taste of the kiss
Amiss in the mist of the dense pastures

The evoke of passion, a poison
What a mission? Dissolution
A destitute encaged in iron bars

Redeemed to breath again
Expounded in light, bounded insight
A knight of a night....What a might?
A story line for short story I am writing. A girl is looking for a compatible lover and she tries blind dating. She connects with the guy and they head to the silenced woods for a walk... Is she still encaged or does she want the taste of the poisoned passion?
SaWal May 2018

Momma, you are-

The one who always evens my odds
In life's thundering skies, my lightning rod

My superhero, my alpha squad
My knight, my armour, my invincible sword

My lady, my lord
My queen, my God.


Your presence defines my existence, will do so all along,
I promise to keep you happy, healthy and whenever needed I'll be there to sing you them songs.


Happy Mother's Day.
Long and merry live all the super-heroic Mothers:)
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2016
every single time, i'm like Ezra Pound at the end of
the cantos: may god forgive what i have made...
every, single, time... people i've known had
established families, had babies...
  and here i am asking to be forgiven having written
    an arsenal of verse... and asking to be pardoned for it...
the reason why world war II happened is because
the factions of world war I looked like they were cousins...
   they were! the reason why world war I happened
is that the powers at be were cousins,
children or grandchildren of queen ant Victoria...
all about-to-be-gouged-out fish eyed...
           world war I was a truly family affair...
don't know why it happened,
and i find even less reason to remember it
other than to prescribe monarchical power
for no power but mere pomp...
             i envision world war I as the classical framework
of warfare...
        world war II spelled out guerilla... a sort of thing
that didn't allow for state-visits...
           the great form of ******, that's what i call
world war I... world war II?
         a war of proxy... the Jews were the mediated
proxy ensemble...
              and i hate the fact that i can speak these
facts, or "facts", having the historical sofa...
  when saying such facts required a testy iron maiden's
worth of comfort...
                  the husbands of England...
charles I: beheaded... charles II: froliced having a libido
                                             of a fungus...
charles III: reigned for 24h...
            William IV: yawn... wish ***** Harry had
a shot at it... and by that time David Attenborough
was sniffing daisies from the roots up...
      while Clint Eastwood lived to be
                  one-hundred-and-thirty-five: spinsters of
the spaghetti ageing rhapsody for drawing evens
or 21 in jerking-jack.
               on the question of families...
we best look tailored as mum son and uncle,
father, grandad and auntie on the canvas of
a photograph... beyond it? ****** jokes...
       but then people who'd we wish to have interact
with also own about 20 chickens, a goat
and a barn that suggests we filter potato juice
against the hay for whiskey...
          but sure, sure, it makes sense...
    by urbanising people we feel not need to commit to
******... o with that barbarian practice of
selling Bulgarian brides at the cotton-smith market...
          i mean: apes inbreed almost everyday...
you see any spastics about? must be paradoxical,
hum-hmm-hum.       and that means:
barely any questions are needed.
                       but sure... world war I has a family affair...
i'll actually applaud ****** for doing away from
the monopoly of aquarium eyed inbreds that gave
us world war I... they were ******...
             back in Russia the Tsar looked like
the Kaiser of Germany, that looked like the King of England...
                     then some Serbian terrorist lit the sparkler
and all **** broke loose...
          cousin Vlad ****** tante Anne who in turn
            ***** the prudish third in line to the English throne
Beatrice...
            it only took, one blimmin' family to usurp Europe
and engage it in world war I...
               it took the same family to create the treaty
of Versailles and instigate the populism of alter
Marxism to craft the conscript papers for world war II...
but thankle gott for the Wehrmacht uniforms...
uber cool, uber zoo, uber zex... ßteit! prudence J. Austin!
          it only took one family...
and still world war I didn't invigorate the establishment
of Israel...
                      some say that was a worthy cause...
to have established Israel...
                   it meant the Jews disappeared from Europe
and we invited the Moshe Moshe mules of Ishmael...
                    sure... the Iron Curtain disappeared,
Pope John Paul II sold the harem of Eastern Europe...
and we became engaged in a new curtain... the ninja...
or what's already apparent the fluttering guise of
the ninja... the niqab... self-explanatory, in a sense:
no need to call it a curtain.
Zoe Irvine Nov 2012
Looking at pain
From the inside out
Stepping off steep
Into an unknown, falling
Loose and tightly wound
At once
In one
Spinning straight-line lies
Wanting them to be true
From here to there exists
No mess between
No life
No humanity
No mess
Only simple
Straight-line lives
Like the heartbeats of our politicians

Got no room for deviation into mountains
Down to earth
Got no time for beats and bravery
Floating on in mediocracy
No, democracy
My mistake
Found a word and made it look
Like cool
Made it sound like hope
Made it work like ****
To cover up the sins of what was truth

Not pure or real
But what was on
Got hammering down
Got seeping in
Got on with getting on
Dig pocks in Devon and call it progress
Take chunks of the mama and look surprised
As she spits us all out from her centre
You, me and everyone who had no idea

Who sat behind their 5 mile screen and said
**** happens
When it was about the starvation

And said
More’s the pity
When it was about monstrosity

And said
Gotta be thankful
When it was about the tanks and the bombs and the guns
In some other guys garden

And screamed
What the **** is going on here
With tears and snot and terror all over their tan-stained brows
When the phone broke
And the plane was late
And the dog shat
And the restaurant ran out of hors de ******* oeuvres.

It’s a ******* sin, that’s what it is
To call yourself a restaurant and not have what’s on the ******* menu.

A ******* sin.

The world’s gone to ******* ruin.

Buy me Barrack Obama and let’s call it evens.
E D
Perpetuousity of Motive is a
need, not everlasting but maintained
by highest virtue or a desire that is
lacking-- a kind word, halved and
suffixed with an E D
tame paliative of meaning reminds
us all that time's not one, but rather
two things: we reach out for it and
Sense it, but with our mind it is reborn like
each and every thought and deed's encased
in placenta unshorn-- the mind that
holds the key to life rotates what is
worn and evens out the treads below
the tires as we soar; that is, time
is body, time is mind. Two things in one.
More importantly and with impetus: time
IS
What has
Become.
Time is ending and beginning, hence your
time is old yet young.
MMXI
ERR Nov 2011
An unsuspecting observer would view his property as bland
With subterranean secrets rarely breaching for detection
When pointed ends met with his cracking winter surface
The sludge bubbled out filling every empty space
His inner oil to some
Was black gold
Prosperity
To others still, a tar pit worthy of dinosaur death
He grew as a sheet of ice which could harbor skating lessons
Or unseen, send auto travelers in lack of traction spirals
His light-stealing sticky venom clotted neural networks
A fat tarantula plucking whims from the web between two ears
He fraternized with Morpheus
On odds
With cousin evens
Awakening unsure if he were caught in silky cobs
Or the hands above it all
He certainly felt like a marionette, dangling on feeble feet
Pulled by the digits of ink stained impulse
Hate, tug
Create, tug
They made him dance to their tattooed meter
He felt the crunch of beetles and flies
His temples throbbed as tar dripped from his eyes
Drops forming clefs, pictures, and words
I am but a stencil, he buzzed
Modern Serenity Mar 2015
Lately I feel like I've run out of inspiration
I'm left with nothing but humiliation
Normally I had ideas and it would flow
now I have nothing, not evens a thought to show
Mateuš Conrad May 2021
at what point wasn't it a way to bypass
the editorial scrutiny...
to directly engage with a reading
public...
why did i think this might be: any good?
i guess i only thought:
i need this out and i can't stash it
like a corpse...
into some damp cellar... like a morally
relativistic monstrosity of a sociopaths'
analogy of: "feels"...
   well, no **** Sherlock!
how i made the following reply...
is beyond me:

- believe me... i had more to write but i felt a sense of restraint... i'd like to see what a terse reply would make you focus on... so i'm scrapping the concept of handicap: heads up... now it all depends what you'll be choosey about... or not... because there's plenty in you reply i could quip about... well... then again: is being witty synonymous with being satirical? i'm not for intelligent / condescending humour on my part... personally i love the dryness of sarcasm... but then again: what's to like about the bluntness of nail-heads? just my take on... what exactly not to like about schadenfreude (what's not to like about schadenfreude)... i'd much prefer a humiliation of a leather gimp suit... so it seems: honesty is the best joke in play... there are too many stereotypes in England too... the best one i heard was by my Glaswegian english teacher in school... ahem... how was copper wire invented? two Scots arguing over a penny... like the stereotypical arsenal of deciphering the Jewry run wild in the realm of the gentiles... with the Scots... being our prized asset of: reverse stereotyping... i guess because knowledge of poor Hebrews is either a mystery or taboo... worse still... a mythology... and here i promised myself restraint... yet i'm experiencing something of a writing block and i... most probably found the most surprising alternative outlet... the eroteme lady - ms. query... so there must be nothing concrete about you... well... i too remember being a teenager prior to 2000 on those hotmail chatrooms where the acronym ASL could get you... all hot & bothered... don't take this the wrong way but i've heard that most writers, poet (i'm a chicken scratching doodler at best) reverted to the medium of correspodence... lucky you, "lucky" that i'm testing the waters on you... but don't worry... i've tested the medium with other people and wondered about their stamina... you are starting to gravitate toward psychiatrist status...  it's so strange though... not writing on abstract... blank... rather: inform sender... it's to them... all that *******, romantic or not... about writing for that one person... sure... **** it... write 'em a letter... don't mind about that trippy-*** poem of yours... you know? apologies if you come across as something of a punching bag for sounds... i hope no typos... well typos can be excused... ah these ****** articles about... wait wait... momentary lucidity... i was going to use some of this in my way of combating my writing block... the troubles in the english language... spelling... "approximation" drop the vowels realise: that's how the Hebrews wrote all along... treating their vowels like diacritical markers... the ****?! i feel like i'm being robbed in plain sight... because Copernicus didn't ******* realise jack-****... they pile it up with their Pope and the execution of ******* Galileo...  ugh... it takes some ******* nerve for these days to allow for this ****-centred kindergarten of events in man's... non-evolving history to continue like some: no ******* dodo exctinction ever took place... (agreed... the following are all faux pas... "invigorations") honey? babe? ms. anonymous gender fluid pronoun neutral... what's the informal, best? ms. avatar ms. harleyquinn the world's stupid? what are american stereotypes of europeans? come to think of it... that cookies is too big to take a bite from... you can't exactly base stereotypes having only seen tourists... since a tourist is a stereotype per se... i'd have to go to california... to get a californian stereotype... to georgia for the georgian stereotype...  wait a minute... Costa Rica... "hint hint"? Latino? that wasn't exactly... it was a fork in the road... the Sephardi... you're working from an avatar canvas... you're making allusions to... what i look like and it's like i'm a mesmerising doppelganger of al pacino... is there a chicago accent? i heard a lot of the ****** diaspora was lodged in that *******... i was terrible at accents... almost always a chamaleon... people still ask me where i'm from... so like this one-stand-up comedian in Edinburgh said... when he was quizzed about the geography of his accent... 'you might recognise my accent... it's... educated'... now that's that... isn't it? i could fake you an indian accent if i wanted to... perhaps a german accent too... but i could fake it... by the way... in these parts... biligualism can be treated as schizophrenia... just saying... somehow integration is not fully deserving the status that: not integrating decides... because... not integrating is... "safety first"... the dodo project alliance...  least of all... i've been dying to by a baseball cap with the Cleveland Indians old logo with chief wahoo... so stereotyping americans... it's beyond hard... it's like stereotyping Russian that are not in the vicinity of Moscow... some are probably Mongol remnants... their own idiosyncratic solipsists to their own... i'll take up my bicycle tomorrow and this drunken tirade will most probably fizzle out... i truly couldn't make up giving a toss about what's internalized americana stereotyping... not that i don't care... i just don't know... the currency of the nation sends me years and years of Ed Gein reinterpretations... what am i supposed to "say"? tomorrow i'll be up early and bothered about my bicycle as if it were a horse... but i'll still want to retain gravity with leaving you with this frankness of a reply... lobster-red probably implies if not simply implores: ginger and freckles... i like to think of suntans as serpents shedding skin... i suntan i'm a copperneck... i like the german sound on this... plus... it's readily available as compounded: kupfernacken... what's better? auburn-tease? kastanienbraunecken? i like the joy you feel with what you already prescribed me with.. that i know so little about you... that while i'm prodding you withhold giving me concreteness.... concreteness would allow me... disadvantage me to focus on "things" that are absolutely not necessary... so: i can focus on whether i'm not being pedantic enough and: misspelling...so... what's the stereotype surrounding Alaskan gurls?!

- thanks for being ascribed in getting my "mojo" back...for now...

- What do you mean? I'm surprised this is the shortest message you've sent. I was getting used to your drunk musings. [I say this with a smile but I know you don't like emojis or silly acronyms, and writing out "laugh out loud" sounds ridiculous... after all, you know how important sounds are to me].

- you just asked one of those questions that... is aligned with asking... 'what are you thinking'? the moral 'ought compass waved me a goodbye and if i haven't broken any laws to pursue the sort of freedom of though i currently enjoy... bypassing the need so stress a "freedom" of speech... writing is an extension of thought: not a prompt / invitation to speak... i'm surprised that you scrutinise the length of my replies... and were we to begin with? in the "easily offended" pile-up? well i'm still getting drunk... you're still an avatar mystery... but at least i'm waging a war on prosaic sobriety to boot... i guess i had to come clean at some point... i never write sober... i don't see the point of being: disengaged from the genuine (a longer version of a one word would have sufficed... but i'm lazy about the spelling... while at the same time... there's this critical theory approach done in some of the newspapers about english spelling... let's see if i get it right... dis-in-genius... for starters... disengenous.. horrid... aaah so terrible... dis-less-advantageous... disadvantageous... oh **** me... i wriggled into that one: all sound and proper...why ask me: what do i "mean"? - it's not that i don't like emojis (well, i don't) but... what the hell... there are better hieroglyphs to focus on than chiseled into pyramid stone: own... happy face... the Chinese were doing ******* x-ray gizmo **** at almost the same time... it's a focus loss... don't even get me started that *** = a Parisian hello with tendering the cheeks with... a labyrinth of smooches... my lips are my pouches blah blah blah... you seem to be enjoying my rants... i gather? i don't even know why to bother with an ask (question doesn't even do justice to how i'm framing this)...  you want to write as little as possible to properly excavate me... well no surprise... if light can't bend around corners... i'll have a look: none-the-less... emphasis on the hyphens... this poor down-trodden word could be helped with some "breathing space"; no? i "mean": 霜... shoo-aang... frost... i have dancing skeletons throwing toothpicks at chopsticks pilled up in an area of pine wood... look at this sort of *******... and here we are... cradling one of the old languages with "holes in letters"... to peer through... O now i see... B: otherwise: ha, ha ha ha... what's **** in Chinese? the Greek prized π... but what P & I look like for a farting, mandarin? hey presto: "@"... not even a western concern for "patriarchy" could have complicated: what's already too complicated... a billion people... a wall... that didn't keep out the Mongols from invading... yet a phonetic encoding system that... would topple each and every pyramid... from Giza to the cleaving of South America from Africa that can be staged at some Aztec "miracle"... i am writing (to) you like a bewildered person... because: why wouldn't i otherwise not be? so what do i mean? hmm... what's that holy trinity of statistical terms... mean... meridian... mode? i think i remember correctly... thank god i'm not going to apologise for being drunk... i've heard the stereotypes of drunkards with no future for thirst... the other thirst... the thirst for something beside their own handicap... i'd also duly convert to Islam too... i was cycling past a mosque and heard the most impossible sound of praise that will never escape me... but by the bottle i did: closer to the Jewry i am... contradictory how that is... don't want to stop drinking... uncircumcised... it's a really magical juggling act that's littered with self-deprecating humour interludes... aligned with norse mythologies... grr... **** me... now i'm attempting to "sell" you a makeshift tinder profile sketch... don't know... never will... never used: don't ask...  but i forgive you... for asking me: what does "it" all mean? it means we're for the thrill of it... it makes sense if we're still gagging for it... and we're not exposed to old-age closure cinematic scripts of solo cinema of memory... i like typing because i have itchy fingers... you'd probably like to hear me speak... no? it's exactly 20 minutes past midnight and i have a date with a bagel at 9am tomorrow morning... i still want another injection of truth in me before i do the  lady nox some justice and sleeping with her fiendish daughters... i mean... who does that... wake you up with a hard-on? never mind... i don't even know how to end this "convo": it can't be with a farewell... or an adieu... or a サヨナラ... oh wait... that's "goodbye, forever"... how does one end a half-way between a musing and a real person on the replying end of "things"... i guess like this: NARA... ナラ... short for narazie...  translated from my mutterzunge as: perhaps loosely... for the time being... for now... how else... to end my tirade?!

- So let me get this a bit straight (as straight as a stray arrow, that is): you only write when you're drunk (I'm the luckiest one to be at the listener - or reader in this case - end of your tirades as you call them... I call them musings); you have a fixation with words, even the ones that you don't know how to spell correctly (except maybe in a language I don't know so I can't really tell), you didn't answer why I'm ascribed to getting your mojo back (where did it go?), and you wake up with a hard-on. Got it!

- i've been lodged into a backlog: ******-town sort of: stalling... give me a few hours... although: ever wonder what: giggles sounds like... in the deafness of the night? i do... i want to reply you like so... like now... like this... maybe i will... maybe i will not... i'm gaging to buy one of those cleveland chiefs baseball caps...the grinning siouxsie chieftan....perhaps i want to relearn "how to": take the GRIN... a little bit more... seriously... no? **** it... i'm drinking as it is... i want to reply you in full throttle... straight arrows... and the welsh V of the longbow-men too to boot... chopsticks straighter... "straighter"... i tend to only write when i'm drunk... i abhor sober prosaic intimidation and... all the lies, subsequently...sober people don't get "drunk" on moral relativism of white lies? and i'm born yesterday, no? you openly venture into... a quest of question within the regards... of being... this only.... i almost wanted you to feel this sort of... an alienating increment... of... how i might pile on more detail... they are musings... i don't take them seriously... about as much relax as is a required: necessary.... i have a fixation with words... jurisprudence to me is merely a game of thesaurus ploy-tow... i spell i don't spell... i'm overtly pedantic... i also felt queasy when testing my eyes at an authentic testimony of the "law"  being "exaggerated"... "tested"... "proved"..i must have: lying eyes... no other eyes do see... no? i have a fixation with "things" beside the usage of ***** and strobe lighting...

you have my attention... don't you? you know... the last time i attempted having a conversation... i was too naive...too young... everything "everything" applied itself to being too predictable... i want to love again: but being in love is almost a weakness... i don't feel like being weak... i guess this is where the rekindling of my "mojo" ends... hello cul de sac...

new paragraph... ever hear(d) of the alpha and the omega "man"? i'm pretty sure you heardf of mr. beta... for all the worth of a totality of... man... i'm last... i'd forever be... last... i don't want to be first... i also don't want to be 2bd sniffing **** and crab-meat-... either...

give me the totality... i'll be satisfied with a "question" of
last... hence the expression: omega man...
didn't hey-zeus say?
i'm the alpha and the omega?

i don't write sober, i'n afraid i might lie...
you're not lucky,..
but you're also not... godzilla....

i "somehow" haven't ascribed you with the sort of details of: explanation that would allow you... to satiate yourself with answers... as to how... why... yllu managed to "mojo" probe me back to life? you.. the Faroe Islands to begin with? you know... they have this gimmick... on the Faroe Isles... it's not a gimmick... it's called// i don't know what's it called... skúvoy? but i'm happy to tease when the whales are slaughtered... the the blood comes a running: the lions also... apparently tease with a yawn... look at this word, though: grindadráp....

ever catch the giggle im der nacht? nein? too italian... no? ******* borrowed pollack: the self-depreciating... loan... not load... of bollocking...

don't believe yourself as being the sole recepient of a reply...

you're not lucky... you're just... available...

terribly botherome... isn't, it?

- i thought i'd make this a two tier reply... it would be a shame to reread what i wrote on one of my "escapades"... perhaps this... hanging-over... ha'h... more like hung, drawn & quartered some time to time... but believably sane, pleasantly morose - at evens with masochism... so reclining into a moral trip-up... i probably mentioned grindadráp - since i still have the window open on the phrase i'm familiar with... Sámal Joensen-Mikines... i most probably ended up giggling in the night... god... i'm just skim reading what i wrote... well good to know that i can only the best thing and sober up: simultaneously returning to a more rigid, conventional... formal use of language: that i might suppose i'm in a confessional booth... a welcome mirage for the time being... while i decide to wither away watching the old firm (a derby soccer match between celtic & rangers)... of note... i had this argument with the natives so time ago... the... Celts... but it's the Boston / Glasgow Çeltics... no? you're a girl that likes sounds... i've been following this current discussion that has reached the heights of printed newspapers... citation, sian griffths (gwif-if-if-ififs) education editor: new spelling ROOLS to make english more predictable for pupils... "we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the feelds..." see... i really admired Charlie Bukowski for a while... until he came out as a lazy slob who would require an editor to correct his spelling... there's dyslexia and there's just plain: hash-browns... for all my worth of idiosyncrasy that i wriggle in as i go along, most of which will not find common ground and a cosmopolitan outlet of users... for me, as someone who acquired this tong'u: i've grown fond of how aesthetically messy this toong can become and how readily available this messiness is... even London can become a ****-joke: Loon'dune... in my mutterzunge sounds are more distinct... apart from the graphemes sz, ch, cz, rz (ż) - i'd have to borrow from a Czech a caron to hide a letter or two: š (sz / the equivalent SHarp in english) and č (cz / CHatter respectively)... all these unique sounds... ą, ę, ć, ń, ó, ś, ź - Wombat ł... anyway... i just thought, sobering up... that you'd like to have a certain bulging volume of fudge to return to... before i take another dive into ms. amber and pass another night as w. h. auden wrote: only the hitlers of this world write at night... sure... herr auden... because the day is for watching football and / or cycling.

- à propos: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-L5iefl2QtA

- If you share music can I? I'm sorry that I didn't reply sooner. It's been a **** last week and this week isn't any better yet. I like reading your messages, drunk and sober. When I write in my native language I use the accent over the vowels to emphasize the second-to-last vowel of a word. I love speaking, reading and writing in my native language, though I'm sure that I know much less than you would about languages. Shall we continue talking about sounds? How about sounds in my language? Of course, you have to guess if you haven't already.

- mind you: i had second thoughts about writing this reply... perhaps you can judge for yourself... i'm just not into having double-mystery encounters with an "avatar"... plus i made an emphasis on the point... what music were you not going to share?

sure... but first share your music... i have this thirst for Nick Hornby's high fidelity and being a teenager again... a teenager in love, again...i was probably the most happy-go-anywhere sort of person when i found a vinyl copy of Wardruna's kvitravn in my local HMV... which is: sunrise records and entertainment ltd trading as hmv & fopp.... given i already have the other chapters on cd - copied into mp3... (runaljod - yggdrasil & gap var ginnnunga)...  and given it's so rare to fnd a vinyl of this calibre... that some vinyls comes with an mp3 link... i thought: hell... i'll give this record the proper 3D aura treatment and not listen to it on headphones... or utilise it to "conquer" space... & just walking with it across a market sq. without a plastic bag to stash it in... i might as well have walked with a cat on my shoulder... because... who the hell still buys... well... invests in vinyl? now... coming to the language...second-to-last vowels of  word... you know... you can keep me interested without overplaying this "mystery" game... isn't the use of an avatar enough? i really can't comprehend a language that focuses on second to last vowels... without focusing on vowels: per se... just to reiterate... you didn't share a link to some music... you pitted yourself as American... i can continue being interest without having too many enigmas to sort... i have yet to find a language that only applies accents to, e.g. suppOsE... or maybe i'm just too ignorant to have come across a language that behaves in such a way: unless it's some idiosyncratic variation (of it)... you don't have to remain a complete mystery to me for me to keep engaging... there can be some sort of rooting in reality... otherwise i'll just return to my original purpose of writing: staging myself against a blank canvas and a barrage of sounds that i'll need to "un-spaghetti" into linear streaks.... i'm not going to guess: you'll either tell me or not... i'm currently listening to snake-pit poetry: einar selvik... any one can have a ****** week... for a while i was anticipating you testing whether or not i'd reply not getting a reply from you... and that, somehow, miraculously... i'd continue to creep-up to teasing you again... perhaps that's me dabbling in misnomers... no... you'll need to give me something concrete... i'm already starting to itch with a sensation that i better return to the canvas than keep this conversation... no offence... it's just draining me when something abstract could also be doing: likewise... but it wouldn't end up being a ****-tease... i could possibly create something out of it... not just so more: oh... oh? ** **: what's next?! i know when it becomes a brain-drain... a side project... it has to come with an excuse whereby you'll probably recoil with: but i had a ****** week... granted... but who hasn't...  you could have waited another week until participating in the timeframe of the passing of weeks started to feel good once more... if you only dropped a music suggestion... otherwise... thanks... but... no... this conversation is going nowhere... i think i'm just relocating my writing block elsewhere... all the best: in keeping an aura of mystery... within the realm of avatars and non-accountability... come to think of it... no... this is as fair as i could be.

this supposed "unique" specimen... not really...
i want to focus on what allows me to belong:
beside the unfathomable landmarks
of trees and mountains:
roaming stars that even my demented
grandfather corrected himself on...
satellites... no... roaming stars?!
well... i didn't conjure this **** out of my own
*** for pleasure, either...

back towards... falling asleep while listening
to the Hellraiser soundtrack:
hellbound...
because eerie is how:
i how how: "things"...
i'm so alone at times that it's beyond making
sense: it's about infringing on a god-stature...
status... this omniscient
contradiction that some Elijah bundled up
into... two crows croaked...
the tower of London can entertain 6:
so the king's ******* and the queen's
jewels are left intact...
for the successor to worry about...

we have these conversations but too bad
the girl is playing timid...
and i'm... gargantuan...
the length of a tongue that turns into an eel...
hands like octopus extension...
i could wrap her up in... bubblewrap
and start the puncture pinch-pinch ceremony
of not seeing the bubble float: up-up...

i have a sense of ego like...
a bad l.s.d. trip?!
****-guage-abuse? gauge? sort the ones
for the snoozing zero-toasts
and you have yourself
a new jersey smart: bite-off... not bit... though...

i could never have children:
not because i could never be a good father:
but i'd be a terrible husband...
how do i "know"?
i would never allow myself
to earn the amount:
she'd want to spend...
via solo: i'll spend on ms. cojack amber
and some ******* liquorice vinyl...
and a bicycle...
rubber-teasing: ****-teet-****....
when using the brakes...
when minding my ******* "luck"
on a roundabout with a massive twuck...

plus i'd love to **** more...
i'd love to **** as much more as
the thought-"taboos" discourage me
from doing... so it's a nice adventure: thinking
the next: moral antagonist, antithesis
of "could i"?
central theme? Lo-li-t'ah...
and i'm the second from third removed
uncle of the marquis de sade...
you want... you need... you have to orientate
yourself around the last taboo...
the one that's not associated with...
crispy clean antics of those *******
in their savvy leather gimp suits etc.

"power to the people": *******...
power to who owns what...
i'm starting to conjure up
profanities akin to:
but at least when they owned slaves...
they took care of their slaves...
they wouldn't want a slave to be rotten...
to be despondent...
trouble with freedom is...
my own, self-made... man...
if i were a slave...
i'd learn to bend the rules...
i'd entertain the fantasy of freedom...
while being constrained with...
all the benefactor securities...
i'd be owned but i'd also be:
obligated to a social contract of some sort...

so freely as to nothing be:
so averaging assumptions...
presumptions... so by nothing i unfree myself:
to... sort of quest to: "be"...
while the priestly class held back literacy...
within the timeframe of when
a new literacy emerged... of coding...
so double-up-on-surds... no?

herr gizmo l:)(}{
the realm of the three brackets... )}]...
one literacy replaced the old literacy
but in terms of retaining the old type...
the new type is... not exactly allowing
for movement of... hearts? is, it?
i still have to retain punctuation...
i still need need to perfect it...

but this is not conversational linguinie,
is it?
i stand firm in, stressing:
writing is an extension of thought...
writing is an extension of thought:
it's hardly an invitation to speak...
the past centuries haven't taught us
that literacy is a constraining beast of priests'
fancy?
let me... detail my limbs for you
in stressing this point further:
what good came from the project
of literacy en masse?
graffiti scribbling on brick walls?
out of what beside desperation?

such constraints were employed as
to: the person exercised in completely body:
usage... wouldn't feel like
a ******* hamster of a ******* ferris wheel
when push came to shove...
somehow everything physical became
lesser class: demeaning...
somehow we all turned into *******
fluorescent
      telepathic / telekinetic Chernobyll
monkey sorts...
and the fat "stigmata" is a what?
                  
  this world is gagging for something tragic...
this world is gagging for a world war III...
but... it probably will not...
"advise" itself to experience such a disatrous take
on prospect...
nuance in language can go **** itself...
application of misnomers for added fluidity can:
go **** itself...
you ever come across a choir...
and a great wind...
see a ******* shrink...

don't look at me for inspiration:
perhaps some jokes...
i've been more honest these past two minutes than
i ever was in the passing of a decade...

death the limbo of "sanity"...
esp. when someone memorable has taken off...
who am i left with? "perspectivelly accountable"?
grey-matter fiddle-through middle-man
*******... no?
i'm not sifting through that, murk?
perhaps i'm sieving... sifting... sieving...
sifting... sieving... get a dog! she says, mother, dear...
i tell her: it's legal in Belgium...
her father already cited his complaints...
i'm tired of the ******* optimism...
i'm tired of this "adventure" some cling to when
deciphering "life"...
an overrated statement of too many facts:
that's life...
it's not a ******* frank sinatra:
come as we are... would be: mea culpa...

troublesome sufferings of a tired brain...
too many pop ref. points worth of closure...
i bought a vinyl today...
i walked it down a market place
like it was a puppy...
in a rucksack...

that there's a hope... my mother is crying
this silent agony of truth...
i tell her: it's sensibly legal in the Benelux...
England is ****** by all accounts...
a dog will save me?
i'm becoming rigid... brick-esque...
tide-prone...
moon is the mother of my skies...
i might might what?
fall in love: to fall in love is to allow
oneself to be weak; to be... dependent on
someone: the concept of "other"... no?
recurrrency is pricing on how many times
that's... sensible to try out?
before it fails?

i fall asleep listening to horror movie music...
i'm best coupled to a ******* hyena than
i am to a woman...
to live under a false sense of hope
is a: welcome bypass to otherwisse living
under a truancy of truth...
as the life around me shrinks...
the abounding shadow of me grows...
and not as a patriarch...

oh ****... "i simply, somehow...
just so it happens... fowgot to... encapsulate this
offload whiff a wyme".
Marina Gomez Jun 2011
Fariy tales, they’re not real
Happily ever after isn’t part of life’s deal
Prince charming doesn’t just arrive
Sad, loving tears won’t keep you alive

There’s no wicked spell that explains all the bad
No fairy godmother to help when you’re sad
No magic mirror that shows all
No saving grace to catch you when you fall

They’re just silly stories filling you’re head
Comforting words while you lay there in bed
Don’t waste away waiting for them to come true
Trust me dear, it’s not worth it to you

Life is what happens when you’re busy making plans
Love sneaks up while you’re simply holding hands
Try not to worry, eventually things are okay
It all evens out at the end of the day

These stories, well they’re just that
We can always walk away no matter how long we’ve sat
And waited for the one
Be happy my love, you’re story’s far from done

So that story book ending
Honey it’s simply pending
Promising to show its face
When you’re happy in that far, far away place
Ken Pepiton Mar 2023
Finding clutter and cable chaos,
two forms
of proof
for the orderly mind
to insist my approach
to harvesting and preserving my take away, no use
in spirit and
in truth, if you follow my idea, abstracted
from
all the time there ever was here
when we arrived, empty
as far as we knew, with our acquisitive
child recollections, as
to how we come
to think we know, less and less
finer and finer interpretations
of harmony
among Same and Different minds,
allowing odds and evens and pi and e.
-and -i- the I defying form of little I
square root of one.
Left, right, clap.

Chirality, Front and back, top and bottom.
- clapping games of all the ways,
- one hand can clap another.
- Just so we learn,
- we make things take time to do
- just right.
But some times, one impression's all we get.
Think fast.

Six ways to rest upon, Cubism,
arrives first among those who see edges
of blocks in the solid limestone formation,

"O Solon, Solon, you Hellenes are never anything
but children, and there is not an old man among you."
Swimming past that first horizon...
Edgar E Tobias Sep 2015
One third of our life is spent asleep
25 years off in some dream...

Another third spent in work or class
50 years gone, ****, just like that

25 years left...
But of course there's more.

1 year spent using the bathroom.
Now only 24...

6 years' time spent on cuisine
Down to 18...

4 years doing housework,
A year looking for things lost,
And another 5 in line we wait.

75 given, only left with 8.

2 years watching commercials
Where did it go? Only 6?!

For a woman... 1 year is spent choosing the clothes they're wearing.
But it evens out.
Men spend just as much time admiring their choice by staring.

So down to five
But I'll end it here
It's on you now
How to live your final years.
Do what makes you happy.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2023
Look once more,
look back and see the way, to now
from
when reason first was used
to master the frame
of mind, embodied, as mine,
informed with shapes of things solid,
shapes of things inside,
shapes of thing outside,
shapes of thoughts stacked in sequence,
after the hallelujah,
as per holy orders of worth appraisal,
services rendered,
magic performed,
life administered, for another week,
any body can handle one more week.
After the hallelujah.
learn that definition once, and you never
see sequential activity in ritual
as before,
magic effectuation, affection, as joy
one mindful, chewy, gustatory morsel,
of child-like faith, to be conserved.
Conservatively speaking,
Whig-wise, knowing one's prepositional relativity.
We labor, not in vain… to become worthy
to tread, with shoes, on streets of gold.
where milk needs no cow, and honey bees
never need be busy all day.

Riches and sweets, both
take more than either promise, aimed at
via entertain-mental mmm-usings tight
at tension, mind's time spaced taut
edge of me, edge of mine,
edge of ever aimed at
thus far… where we suffer this is so…
- measured timespace in mind agone…
Then we live through the last now, to die.

Becoming the author, fisher for being bubbles
afloat in ever after all.

At my funeral. To spare the hassle, imagine.

Friends and loved ones,
most are dead, or far away;

but we recall times, vague days
incidents for which we each hold bits,

instants, reality instantiated, pastense,

feel the kiss, feel the shame, the joy,
the hope, the loss, the win, the terror,
the truth of no perceptible way,

away from quit.
--------------

Infancy instants, perhaps, we guess,
we recall being babes, for briefest
recollections of perceptions kept, some how

to be reformed from shards of information
stored some where in an image of a moment

seen from the frame of a seer, not me, seeing
me, infant me, tossed and caught by a laughing
man in a sailor suit…

and, the oddity, of the singular infantile memory
stored some where for reconstruction, living
entertainment…

like unto Agricultural Entertainment, an art form
ancient as harvest festivals,

when locals picked the orchards, and our worlds
were edged in otherwise wild hedge rows,
where little creatures live at child level,
where words miss heard give stories twists,

too odd to be retold while holding any of the small
awe, aw, so sweet, too dear to let be meaningless,
but
as truth been told,
mean is bad in dogs and men, mean is bad in mankind,
mean is common,
mean is most common,
mean is measured, granted
mathematical reality, mind my means, you know
"intend, have in mind;"
Mental meaning application, folded man-kind wise…
Sometimes connected to root *men- (1)
"to think,"
which would make the ground sense of man
"one who has intelligence,"
but not all linguists accept this.
Liberman, for instance, writes,
"Most probably man 'human being' is a secularized divine name"
from Mannus [Tacitus, "Germania," chap. 2],
"believed to be the progenitor of the human race."

~~~~~~~~

Institutional minds, adapted from drama,
worn like Superman's or Bishop Sheen's cape.
Übermmench, **** sapien augmentacious,

**** habitus, us, as we think, we are.
We are no other way,
as a man thinketh truth, as a mind may think,
fine, so is he, in his own mind, right or not,
limited fineness, judged, discerned, quarkishly
ever finer, to this very point,
where mind being time being comes to mind,
in you.
We, momentarily, agree, aggressive face to face
point, fair call
at the inner edge of the inverse square
practical fractal constant…
gravest of issues, at thought
speed of intention to grasp. Percept perceive
link touch… flowing listing seeping soaring

bemused become
amused and entertained, feeding on ensamples,
as sorted characters,
defined societal aspirational imaginal
roles in reality aboard 1950's era Spaceship Earth.


Standing, unbowed, before kings,
bowing before mean men, thinking

all ya'll are said to be created, made
equal…
valued worthy
of opinion expressed as yours, as
wings put on wishes, shoes on prayers,
for warding reaching pulling pushers
-list as wind, in cognitive bias, right
lean as wild grasses launch new seed,
- double helix, twisting up
- from down,
feel massive missal push us on,
orbital, for a lifetime,
be maker of a being bubble
be a minding creating creation,

as weighed in balance, or mass, as gold
or wind in force testing wills for making

a way, where no way was.
Dead end. No way from now, but through.

Wind beneath my down swung pinions,
lifting my imaginal self over my useless

wait state, ever learning, never learning
the whole truth we are sworn to tell,
as soon as
we begin to see as others see, subject,
object
seer
seen seeing, saying

we may be minders of findings, guardians
set to watch,
set to see,
set to say look this way, these invisible limits

terminal connection looping past through
you
as my word choices,
pass the blood brain barrier and pierce
eternal you, in stasis.

- ---------------
- post radio war, not so long ago

"how ' we gonna keep 'em down
on the farm, after they've seen Pairee?"
- enter the era of the salesman
Total war, full power propagation of faith,
in practice, words are empty, meaning
is made- hate festered pride
of whiteness, same color as the rich, qualia
as equally mistaken in terms we call common,
****** speech of the non-reading classes,
stupid peasants, children of useless men.
Lower by far than, Biblical men
of the baser sort. Belial's
sons of total depravity,
two rungs lower than average
working classes, labor, any collared man willed
to pay sweat for bread and circuses.
And a dry, warm place to sleep.

Man, the reasoning creature, is what he eats.
Man does not live by bread alone.

Imagine grooming a gimp, from puberty.
Imagine Michael Jackson, "the kid is not my son!"

Look out, Howard Bloom. Duck.
Watch the boy do a thousand shoulder shrugs.
See the fantasizing worth of awe in focus, this
is us,
we paid to see the man perform, in a role made
from lies a child uses
to make just now,
reasonable, just
cause,

I can, I have power given me by Life, look,
who can imagine being the fan,
aw, man,
nobody longs to be
in the nosebleeds, being there
is not being you,
when all you can become has become true.
Just imagine,
fakes never make it.

And truly a big tragedy to be avoided, next.

We interview… the biggest nobody,
an entity insisting formless information imagines
bubbles of being limited
-- some strings of pearls rolled up

roll into little *****
of gnoshit pearls, treasure true, in essence
from dried gnosisnot. These we cast not to pigs.
To think a readers reasons
for writing, become one
of the rare breed born
to become readers
of one thousand books, once before you die.

------------------
If Warhol made action seem so mundane,
might I not make fun seem so slow a function
to make perfectly reasonable,
picking a fight with a lie,
because I can… being created equal to that task,
I can recognize lies I told,
I know where the handles are, I know what holds
the handle to the secret meaning of things,
can seem material, where free will
is culture locked as impossible.
Thingo no hypo.
Action movie, opening sequence,
as liturgical as any measured reassurance,
enter in, become the entertained,
we live in another realm, we only play at
while being entertained, we only watch roles

being presented for judgement,
test your will to link a mind projection,

from a former time shaped mind, aimed
at drawing an audience, a crowd,
all agreeing upfront to pay
for the mirror neuronic stims,
in a darkened room filled with fools such as I.

Who allows possible a gunfight with ***'s,
at goal-to-go range, taking five minutes,
and no named characters die,
all blood is non player blood,
only a child's mind never exposed, flash,
allows that to feel real, for five minutes,
into a nonreal mindtimespace
reality
of ever once,
and ever after, onces

such as once, seeing a gun in your face,
once hearing the bang, from a gun in your hand,
once
upon
recalling that was a movie, and I never killed a man,
but by osmosis, I imagine I can see
how hate
works the same as ******.
Relax.
Recall the unbelievableness.
--- so what are silent action movies feeding,
young Aldous Huxley, a bright well educated lad.
{We are all alphas}
-----------
"His uniqueness lay in his universalism.
He was able to take all knowledge for his province."
-------
Only a rich man's son may so say.
Even, as limiting to level, if such leveling
evens the odds, serves to increase resolve
to square the circle and fix pi to simple, once
and
for
all. As events in the heaven occur, fractally

added in fine ality… at you, dear reader, enlivening me.
Infinitely, relative to yesterday.

Of course, comic books count. As in the future,
classic video games shall seem poetic code.
I appreciate the reader's task more than the writer's. Writing is easy, reading what you write from the outside is the reader's task, unless it feels like a game.
devi May 2019
I'm build from the fire
that evens you with the ground

I rise
whenever you fall

don’t underestimate the power
of a builder

we can see a house
even if it’s broken down
cheryl love Jun 2013
Lilac and Black
He was in the mine
A deep dark hole
Full of anxiety and sweat.
He was feeling fine
Together and whole
Placing a bet.
When his world caved in
Darkness and worry go together.
Carbon fumes choking
Broke the habit
A dim grey smoke
Filled his space.
His living space
Not much
Oxygen in this place
A bird in a cage
Flew to safety
Whilst it could.
The pit horse sneezed
Refused to move
Its hoof
The roof collapsed.
Place your bets sir
The Devil called out
Odds I win, Evens I win
You lose .

I
Viji Vishwanath Jan 2020
Oh Honey ! You so funny...

Being with you feel
Like a funny bunny
By making my way
To a relaxing beat
In the most hopeless days
Like the music playing
With the strings of a guitar
Singing in my painful soul
With a sweet melody
Is nothing other than your arms
That cuddled me ever
With full of hopeful rays

Oh Honey! You made my life...

From worst to best
Thanks for each day
That felt with much love
In all the odds and evens
Of every circumstance
That moved easily
Which was difficult
To believe at that moment
But passed and recovered
Is the grace of every bond
That can stay forever
Like an immortal love

Oh Life! Be a funny bunny...

Being a funny one in every life
Can make forget your pains
And being with a funny bunny
Really makes you a happy bunny
That can calm your worries
And bless you abundantly
To rejoice life with a smile
Like a funny bunny 🐰

Oh Funny! You so lucky..

Whoever you be
Whatever you are
And wherever you go
Be a funny bunny
Creates fun in every way
Whether the day be
Sunny, cloudy or rainy
You will be a rainbow 🌈
To everyone
Who enjoys
To be with you..
Be a funny bunny person to forget your pains and relieving others pain too.
Michael Jan 2011
Off the hook
out of place
out of site
can be replaced
no one home
by that name
on the road
a different game

what up
yo man
who you think I am
a hurdy gurdy purdy man
monkey dancing
just for you
toss away
too bad for you
gotta get that **** on through
cause karma is
what karma does
evens things
the way they was
Jeremy Betts Jun 2023
Only God can help you now and and I don't see him here, do you?
I asked you a question motha plucker!! DO! YOU! SEE HIM?! He's certainly nowhere in my view
What's he gonna do, bust in her on some kind of divine rescue?
Kick the door off the hinges and run through, swoop you up and save you?
As a grown asss man how does that idea not perplex you?
If he exists he's forgotten all about you, he's forsaken all but a few
And the slough of sins you've happened to accrue became an issue
He's turned a deaf ear to every sincere word you've ever cried into that pew
Oh but you've never been alone, the devils there for us all
To answer the desperate call for help when our life's in a free fall
When we pledge to give anything for that one thing we believe to be a cure-all
Turn to an inadamint object for a sec for a possible answer to it all
"Oh magic eight ball...is there even any hope for me at all?"
"Not a chance" reads on the small dice, that's when you offer up your small life
Hand over your soul and heart packaged nice in a Ziploc bag full of ice
And at that percice moment he hands over your dreams but at a price
As eventually the good days splice off giving way, showing your sacrifice
A new nightmare trasnforms from your paradise, what once was used to entice
Turns to a vice that's twice as powerful when used as an evil device
And of course, by then, it's far to late to stop this from happenin'
The Lord's furry captured by a heathen stolen through the Golden gate, taken from heaven
Good heavens, where's Chris Evens? We need the captain
But a heros shield held by a broken zero is a domed zeppelin
Soooooo...I win, dark beats light again
I've racked up so many that we should change that old time sayin'
The one about how light always trumps dark cause I leave no question
Leave no doubt in anybody's mind that good doesn't always come out the champion
If you've ever watched any wrestlin' you've seen that the heel or the villian
Gets his hand raised often, over and over again and god willin'
I'll can keep continuin' this stylin', profilin', limousine ridin', jet flyin', kiss-stealin', wheelin' n' dealin' with a little added blood spillin' till my will 'n passion come unfastened or to an abrupt end
That's your only hope so I hope it doesn't ever happen

©2023

— The End —