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Mateuš Conrad Jun 2017
i think, you should stop going to italy, for one, oh **** me, keep going on hedonist ****-**** fests to places like mallorca, but stop going to italy, you're making my stomach ache from laughter, with what you come back with, the so-called "innovations"; somehow i'd just poach my cauliflower, and drizzle it with fried breadcrumbs, and serve it as a side-dish to fried eggs (2), and some tatties; for goodness sake, even cauliflower cream soup makes more sense, garnished with some fried chorizo!

first it was avocado on toast...
          who the **** puts avocado on bread?
i can imagine putting it in pasta...
but on bread?
                hey, what the **** does
the acronym f.a.d. mean?
             i don't know, and i won't google it...
o.k. avocado on toast...
              nothing near guacamole,
  but fair enough...
           but what i discovered... pushes
the button where i turn into a fox laughter
(
fuchslachen) -
           i couldn't stop...
                      you can find it in the *weekend

section of the saturday times newspaper...
written by nicola m.
          cauliflower and mozzarella pizza...
you have to be ******* me...
                cauliflower? on pizza?
one of my housemates at university told
me an anecdote:
    i was in a restaurant once,
          and asked for a pizza with no cheese...
he continued:
      and then the head chef came out and
asked me... are you, insane?!
       a bit like: bread...    but no butter?
and i thought i was insane eating a watermelon
today, whole,
the red pulp, and the outer layers including
the skin included, allowing myself
a gorilla imitation cameo gimmick...
      but i thought i was mad...
but there's avocado on toast...
   and now... cauliflower on pizza...
                              it's a ******* side-dish!
wait, don't tell me... you're going to put
some potatoes onto the pizza the next frizz
comes along... right?
                      how about beetroot?
                         thankfully, if i have some
wacky ideas in terms of culinary escapades,
they happen, drunk, after 12a.m.,
and i'm the scientist, and the experimental rabbit
2-in-1...
                     a newspaper column?
apparently, you get one, putting avocado
on toast...
                 or cauliflower on a pi-zzzzz-ah...
to be honest, even though i haven't tried it,
grilled aubergines on a pizza could work...
   the toast?               marmite and cheddar...
english people should stop glorifying holidays
in italy... they're ****** cooks...
                   an italian would just look at
a pizza with cauliflower and say:          cosa?
i'd suggest heading to scotland first,
and picking up the vibes from some haggis.
**** me...
   avocado on toast...
                caulifower on a pizza?!
                           now i can die happy, 'appy,
clapping: encore!
Minecraft calls
And gta parties
Horrible races
Repetitive insanity
Midnight laughter fits
Midnight promises of forever
Midday I love you's
3 o'clock it'll be okay
Daily please don't hurt yourself
Weekend need
Constant no interest in what I look like
Even if we were on video calls constantly
Sentence finishing
Food envy
Parent envy (at least you had one good one)
Horrible cry-fests
Constant panic spamming
Insane laughter with horrible puns
i'm done with references
Why are you ignoring me
You are the love of my life
Alex, why you gotta be like this
Ann M Johnson Aug 2014
The end of summer is such a ******
The end of picnic's in the park
The end of Fireworks in the dark
The end of State fairs
The end of outdoor booths were  people sell their wares
The end of camping and roasting Smores
All too soon we will back indoors
The end of outdoor Music Fests
Too soon to be replaced with books and taking tests
I hope what remains is some good memories of Summer to keep us warm all fall and winter long
Essen Sep 2016
****, this coffee's really sour
I've been drinking it for half an hour
Wanna hear a poem
Wanna hear a poem
Wanna hear a poem about a cauliflower

[Cauliflower's foolish
It doesn't fit the theme
I'm sick of all your nonsense
I'm tired of your memes]

Woman selling knickknacks
I'm not eating tic-tacs™
Your words were put in brackets
Check out my rhyming tactics

I see that you're not one for fun
Your a cloudy day, I'm the shining sun
My absurdity
Is the key
To happy for eternity

[You're clearly deeply broken
And only you can cure
Your fundamental problems
But really I'm not sure

The only one who conquers
Is one who really tries
So stop with the gorillas
Since everything will die]

Maybe you don't understand
My foolishness goes hand in hand
With making things that are the best
Like giant squids and turnip fests

Order, chaos, streets and bogs
Them, White, Color, Talking Frog
Odd on top but clear below
From ash and fire life will grow

Then again I see it's true
I am right and so are you
Maybe we both have a claim
In this crazy poet game

[x_x
Okay]

That didn't rhyme!

[It doesn't have to]

I love you

[Mmm hmm]
I know I said "soon", uh, nearly two months ago. Nothing really moved me to write a poem until today. This came from a conversation with my cool bud, Ashr, whose poems you should check out, even if they aren't Fun Poems for Cool People. I'd written the first stanza and sent it to her and she put her own spin on it in order to show me how to improve it. This led to a bit of a debate about what makes a good poem. I ended up keeping my version of the first stanza but extended the poem to give it more depth.

In a way this poem is representative of the conclusion I came to in the last rhyming stanza. It is foolish, but it's substantial foolishness that doesn't exist for its own sake. She ended up liking it when it was done. I hope you do too!
“If you or someone you know
Has been diagnosed with Parkinson’s . . . ”
You can tell a great deal about UNLV,
My Vegas morning, easy listening
Radio station of choice,
When I first sit down,
Sit down to work in the morning,
One can surmise from the
Target demographics of so dire,
Such sober pronunciamentos, by
DJ Mueller, 91.5 The Source»
Live from UNLV/KUNV
Las Vegas kunv.org/KUNV
The Jazz Lounge with
Frank Mueller, Thursday, 7:00 am-11:00 am.
So don’t say I never
****** your ****--metaphorically speaking—
Herr Mueller, my good friend.
And while we’re on
The subject: WORK.
They never tell you that
Writing is such ******* hard work,
Which explains my need to **** up &
Lubricate the mechanism,
Before I start.
But I digress.

Just in case you haven’t noticed,
In case you had not been taking heed, CNN:
There’s an exciting new, radical ******,
Left-wing personage & presence
Making a play for the main room,
Center stage, center ring
Global Palace & Amphitheater.
I refer, of course to
Pope Francis:
Media-savvy, media mensch,
Crafting his own image,
Playing to the masses,
Choosing the namesake--
Francesco—right outta the gate,
Zip outta some Franco Zeffirelli
“Brother Sun, Sister Moon,”
Saint Francis di Assisi,
Talent show.
Born Jorge Mario Bergoglio,
In Buenos Aires, Argentina,
He worked briefly as a
Chemical technician
(Read: “bomb maker”)
& Nightclub bouncer
(Read: “sadist”)
Before resuming
Seminary studies, 1969.
(Tribute PSA: October 29, 1969: Happy 40th Birthday to a Radical Idea! Bill Duvall, SRI computer room. Late 1960s, the evening of October 29, 1969 the first data travelled between two nodes of the ARPANET, a key ancestor of the Internet.)
Pope Francis is a master at technology,
As any aspiring Global Wizard must be.
He has a special web site:
“Papal Bulls & Other *******.” Palabras del Papa Francisco - News.va www.news.va/es/source/vatican-va Translate this page PAPA FRANCISCO. AUDIENCIA GENERAL Miércoles 13 de mayo de 2015. [Multimedia]. Queridos . . .

Francis: Pope in Rome,
Signing international treaties again.
The Holy See himself—that
Wacky Argentinian--
One of many Lefty Cardinals,
Pulls off upset ordination in
Vatican City, God’s little 110 acres,
Our world’s smallest city & sovereign state,
Patrolled by a wacky-striped
Swiss Wackenhut Swat Team,
The Vatican: former playground for Nero,
**** Command Central for Caligula,
Construct of Mussolini’s $92 million
(More than $1 billion in today’s
Ever more worthless,
Ever more inflation soaring money!)
Lateran hush money,
Vatican monopoly money,
Seed money for colonial expansion,
Il Duce signing on behalf of
King Victor Emmanuel III,
Remembered today
Mainly for his short stature, &
Exile to Alexandria, Egypt,
Where he died and was buried.
“Vic the Man,” as he was known
Here in the Principality of Monaco,
“Vic the Man in Monte Carlo.”
But I digress.

Just the other day, Pope Francis
Signed another international treaty,
Recognizing Palestinian statehood,
Generating praise from Palestinians, &
Criticism from Israelis, who said:
“The move does not advance peace efforts.”
“Even this Philo-Semitic pope,
This pope who cares about the Jews,
Even he doesn’t get it,” said
David Horovitz, Editor,
The Times of Israel,
Which is what one would expect from
The guy who wrote the book:
A Little Too Close to God,
Still Life with Bombers:
Israel in the Age of Terrorism
. . .

It is tempting to ignore the
Sheer ego, the colossal megalomania
That is Jorge Mario Bergoglio,
Truly a personage of great moral suasion,
Whether he’s cleaning the feet of the homeless,
Dialing up strangers for late-night chats or
Convincing the self-described atheist,
Raúl Castro to give Catholicism a second look . . .
This pope who took the name of a
Nature-loving pauper,
This Pope in Rome,
Francis:  Transformative,
Revolutionary gust.
Pontiff, from Latin: “a bridge,”
Spanning the God-Man divide.
We are talking about a brotherhood,
That survived both Borgia & Medici,
And other assorted kink-fests for centuries.
Just what bizarre peccadillo
Required the resignation of
Benedict XVI, in itself, a
2,000-year first?
Francis:  the first Jesuit Pope.
Francis: the first Pope from America.
Francis: “The circumstances surrounding
Benedict's decision to step down
Will titillate scholars and the journalists alike,
For many years to come,
Given his resignation came so soon
After the “VATI-LEAKS” revelations:
Vatican bank corruption,
Pederast-priest cover-ups, &
Other ignominious fiascos
Requiring significant damage control.

One would think that an institution
With their own royal observatory,
The Papal See’s inter-galactic,
Night-vision telescope, Mount Graham,
Southeast of Tucson, Arizona,
Could steer clear of faulty stars.
radiating
street lamps
ionized the
indigo blue
haze charging
the night air

sparking the
city’s eclectic
currents coursing
through the
abandoned raceways
and empty streets

energizing the
phantoms of
the city’s
restive spirits

the ghosts of past
Great Falls Fests came
jitterbugging back
to life

transparent
veils lifting
and falling
with it, a voltaic
indigo blue
billowed out of the
abandoned stadium
pouring smoking
oboe moans
into the cavity
of the great gorge

“I was one of the last
to perform at
Hinchliffe Stadium”
Duke proclaimed
with his usual  
distinguished air

“it was also one of my
last concerts”, he added
with a tinge of
sorrow in his voice

“the band was rockin
the Art Deco tiles,
splintering and shattering
into bits of earth toned graffiti
the last vestiges of
a bygone Jazz Age
dissolving into the
disco fizz of the
Seventies”

the indigo mood
clamoured off
the rocks absorbing
the sonorous waves
like a stand of
hallowed
sequoias

“I’m trying to
remember what
my last tune
was that night.

was it Caravan?
or a Prelude to
a Kiss?  No no
too mellow
we always ended
on an upper
a real crowd pleaser,
I recall the boys swung
a medley before the grand finale
that medley included
Mood Indigo, Caravan,
Sophisticated Ladies,
Prelude to a Kiss.
We opened with Kinda Dukish
Rockin and Rhythm
we closed with
Satin Doll
Yes I’m quite sure
I waltzed them
off the floor
that night with
Satin Doll”

Duke ran his
fingers through
his processed hair.
He grabbed my shoulders
raised his baggy eyelids
And looked me straight
In the eye

“Yes, we followed
Tito Puente, he killed it
we upped our game
He was just starting out
But at this time Silk City
was going Caribe
Juan Tizol was
out of his mind that night,
I thought him and Babs
we're gunna jump ship
and join the Salsa Circus
Yeah El Rex and Celia Cruz
were that good

El Rex had the place
jumpin and jivin
it was a glimpse of the old days
livin in the here and now
just like the old days
I couldn't compete with that
so I waltzed them off
the floor with Satin Doll
a little cheek to cheek swoon
maybe some guys got lucky that night
and maybe some girls fell in love
Yeah Paterson was changing,
the ***** Leagues long gone
the last ****** Auto Races
crossed the final finish line weeks before
when the raceways in the stadium
replaced the raceways to the factories
we knew it was coming to an end
and with it all the good paying
jobs, whatta shame
just like me and the boys
watching El Rex
the Duke was dethroned by a King
just like Silk City
we had our day in the sun too
a Satin Doll Sun
Those were some good times,
sometimes”

Duke scratched
his head,
and he looked down into
the swirling noise
of the Great Falls
“on a night like this
the mood indigo
takes you into the
darkest hues of blues”

fragment from
Silk City PIT 6:
The Great Falls

Duke Ellington, Coleman Hawkins
Mood Indigo




Oakland
3/30/13
jbm

(FRAGMENT WORK IN PROGRESS)

Part 6 of extended poem Silk City PIT.  PIT is an acronym for Point In Time.  PIT is an annual census American cities conduct to count the homeless population.  Hope and Labor is the city motto of Paterson NJ, nick named The Silk City.
(FRAGMENT WORK IN PROGRESS)

Part 6 of extended poem Silk City PIT.  PIT is an acronym for Point In Time.  PIT is an annual census American cities conduct to count the homeless population.  Hope and Labor is the city motto of Paterson NJ, nick named The Silk City.
Jennifer Louise Oct 2014
Their hallow heads hold fire after being carved by kids. I wonder how they do that, gouge a gourd for human fests. I bring them water every day, until they grow with might, these now seedless pumpkins that glow all through the night. They say they scare the ghosts away but none yet have I seen except the ones of the rotted skeletons that were once these.
Callie Richter Oct 2017
I wish you understood as much as you think you do
Maybe then I wouldn't break down quite as much
You know what happened, the baseline of my insanity
But I want you to know how I feel towards the boy who dropped me, my ex-best friend, and the one I'm in love with
I want you to understand
everything that's going on in my head
The way it spins when I remember the details of last weekend
The way it pounds when I see them together
The way it screams when the same thing happens to me over and over again
But how could you understand
If I'm being honest, I don't even understand myself
I don't know how to prevent my sob fests
I'm not sure why I let it all get to me
But I do
It eats me from the inside out and I know I can't be the only one
So why do I feel so alone?
Throw a punch,
Shove me around,
Cut me deep.
Physical pain is better than emotional
You can't fix what's throwing your body off guard with a **** band-aid
It'd be easier to fix a bullet wound with one
This generation is so messed up
Everyone's hurting and nobody's willing to help
It takes a tv show for people to realize that there are others hurting more than you
And everyone's first reaction is to be mean, to tear you apart
I just can't stand it anymore
Don't tell me it'll be different
That only time will tell
I've heard it a million times and it's all a big lie
The same thing will happen over and over and over again
Like a broken record, if you even know what that is anymore
She's always going to bully me
And the fears always going to be with me
He's always going to treat me like I'm nothing
And I'm always going to let him
She's always going to stab me in the back
And I'm always going to pretend like I don't notice
And ten years from now I'll look back and realize that I was right
The same thing happened again and again just with different faces
I miss her
I need him
I crave you
I just want unconditional love and a decent nights sleep
Is that really too much to ask?
Mana Aug 2013
I remember what we used to have
Hang outs,
On the couch
Cuddle fests
With nothing but your neck to nest
And nuzzle on the other’s.
Head rests
And hands link
Subtle winks
Nothing surpasses this.
But when you say what you said
And want to “take a break”
To me that means a rest
A rest from it all
And this was for your sake.
So i took the space
You needed
Feeded your mind and heart
With the gap holding us apart
So you could get the perspective you desired.
And a part of me admired you for it.
But now that you revealed
That youre back with him
I have nothing short of fury
And i want to bury
My feelings
And act like it doesnt matter
Act like i dont have a heart
I dont hear it in my chest
There’s no pitter patter.
Because now i feel tricked and empty.
You didnt want an end
And i stupidly agreed.
That taking a leave would be best
Little did i know
Upon my return, id be blessed
With the knowledge of you and your ex
reunited.
I feel slighted.
Because you didnt want a break
You wanted a break UP.
Because who ever wants a break?
She
Apparently.
Its a shame to me she didnt know the difference.
And didnt have the heart to tell me they were back together…
Until now.
And now
There WAS a break...
because We’re broken.
And i dont know how to mend it.
Vanshita gogri Mar 2021
Go,tell your mom how beautiful she looks,
wearing an apron and chopping a tomato
or simply just adore the way she cooks.
Go,tell a knock-knock joke to your dad
or start a tickle fight with baseless laughter so tight,
but take a picture, while he laughs like a little child
because this magical moment would be the only reason you smiled.
Just sit with your grandparents for a while when they tell you,
all the embarrassing childhood things that you did
go knitting and gardening with your grandma today,
or just paint her nails, while she tells you her young age tales.
Go,tell your siblings how supportive they've been;
maybe in growing up or a career to begin,
maybe by giving a much needed Choco chip ice cream after a breakup or just a shoulder to lean.
Reminisce those beautiful old days with your friends over your go-to chai ki tapri
thank them for always sticking around
may it be
from the first day at school, the endless gossips, the after class fun ,college fests to a legit job interview
Celebrate when your friend's youtube channel hits1k,
appreciate them when they bake a cake for the first time,
listen up while they tell you something very dear,
dance and sing with them while they are ******* euphoric.
just be with them in their thicks and thins and remember how they have been there too.
because amidst the hustle,
our hearts will only be pacified by these little gestures, small appreciations and the feeling of being connected to the people we love,
maybe its about loving and showing love that our hearts will always crave for.
-vanshita gogri
It was my nightly recurring teenage motif:

The cramped room with a stomach-knotting
presence, creaky floorboards and one wickedly
white door looming as ghastly and large as
any bad-movie omen about to play out.

Being poltergeist-gripped, it swayed back an inch
before a sudden but noiseless slam
shut that unhinged me toward hasty shouts
of, "The power of Christ compels thee!"

(It's a silver-bullet phrase packed and ready in
the chamber of all aspiring exorcists.)

The devil scared out of me yet again,
I'd wake up with renewed vows to avoid TV
horror fests, and those sensational stories
my mom brought home in her Weekly World News.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.
Daniel E Mickey Aug 2013
My love must be a kite run
Tight wrung ribbons
Separate the knots in my knees
Knots from wine
She moves about the kitchen flicking flames off candles
That wine at the table at which I sit is a good wine

I think of the troubles of writing at a screen
I'll consider the problem of writing in a notebook
When I find that **** notebook.

Speaking honestly to a tray of napkins
They can't help the Merlot that's polishing the table
Dark wood is well stained. She asks if I
Remember the small room wine fests in my dorm
My sheets came home from college dotted purple
I remember.

Lurking in the shadows
These thoughts free themselves
Releasing the inescapable passion of a zealot unheard for centuries
Now, in this miniature pressing of keys a wire company will see every idea that spills out of me
The pigs
I hope they come to my door wearing black.

Honey, your hot, don't get mad,
She appears out of the smells
I'm drunk, not mad, I'm spilling the Merlot
We have more, dear.

I love that woman right there and none other

Lets jump out the window and roll through the grass
Come on child, cant you see we got cliffs to catch.  
**** on up your hind legs and lets get to moving.
Don't you know its half past seven and the turn tables grooving

I like that, she says, reminds me of the pictures of you as a boy

I turn to thank her but I can't find her
She dissolves into the smells of the kitchen
And plus, I'm gone.

What is human nature unless covered by an aesthetic, who am I, if not an imposer?
What poet is this, if not the first?

A line of a poem is a poem in itself
I'll regret this next week

But, sand over rock will polish something smooth
In a thousand years, no regret
A mesa stands grounded
In an ocean of wind

Herring cries
Through the morning leaves
What makes them mourning?
They're just a different shade green.

I like that too, she says to me

An Ibis will wind through a pond
But is it just his wake we see, or can
We really spot that bird?
Bruce Levine Nov 2018
Fall is for color
Bounty and splendor
Spring is renewal
But fall toasts
The future

Nature’s own blossoming
In earth tones that
Shatter the rainbow
With rock solid
Treasure to last
The year

Harvest *****
October fests
Foodie’s delight
Magnificent moments
For taste buds
In sight

Fall holds a promise
Crisp air to breathe
That cleanses the lungs
And erases the lethargy
Of summer’s heat

Thanksgiving to all
Mother Nature raises
Her glass
Mulled cider and cinnamon
Roast turkey and corn
Remember the season
Of color and bounty
Remember fall
Throughout
The year
Nicola Pillai Mar 2021
Late nights
Toast fests
Shopping in the city
Long chats
Silly dancing
Trying to look pretty

Tears of joy
Some of sadness
An emotional rant or two
Six weddings
A few funerals
Five babies, my three, your two

The good, the bad, we were all we had
The list goes on, it's endless
The challenges life threw our way
Always learning and trying to comprehend it

I had your back
You had mine
Life was good and we lived it
Completely oblivious, no notion of time
Our all - we certainly did give it

So next chapter sis, with this year ahead
Time, is of the essence
Let’s make new memories, relish this life
Take stock and count our blessings
brandon nagley May 2015
No accompaniment acclimates thine devoid of living,  of thinking past the sinning of thine thirteenth deadliest sins.

The road gets narrower, chase lanes get fairer where the willows ponder and sway!!

Eight years gone five to go sais the men in blue, we could be him, he could be you!!!

What a diamond inside the maze....

Familiar and famous you shall be If you like, breathe If you might, the walls are coming in!!!!

Falter, fed like doctors, it takes a nurse inside the gates to get in silk-saltined skin I die to find!!

Rubies strive to shine where the moonlight takes its place!!!

Planet's small, largely designed!!! Tapes played to speed fests of dying minds!!!!

What a blind we've put between the hairs square, where art noones fair, at least not to me no more!!!!

What do we look forwarth to being? Forward to seeing when the train stops at loveless station!!!!where different nations meet at one world belief...

Hatred brings fear, false tears now  come near to the statuette's of cut degraded beef. Endoctoronated streets!!!!

Openly honest to Birdseye view, cameras old and new snap shots from whence you'd remember...will I be free .Thirteen days? Or let out in mid December!!!!!!/
Moomin Aug 2020
Calling all those that groan, over this world's calamities
Who are tired of the tragic news, we see on our TVs
Those who tire of viruses, of terrorists and crime
And hate to hear of yet another, slaughter in our time

Have you of late found yourself, astonished and bemused
Whem you read of women, who are crushed and so abused
Of shooting sprees and stabbing fests, that innocence do ****
And the poor and sick who drain and die, cause they cannot pay the bill

Does your heart go out to poverty, yearning for it to end
While many gorge themselves with wealth, that they can never spend?
Do you still believe the promises, of political Messiahs
Who claim to build us Heaven, and fulfill all our desires?

Do you feel that life is just, a struggle to endure
And joys are rare and so short-lived, and meaning is obscure?
And finally, when life is done, and we draw our final breath
Don't you wish that we could find, a way to conquer death?

And if so, you are not alone, in questioning this deal
For honest people everywhere, this is how they feel
But don't despair, and don't give up, for the world is about to change
There is a promise that is true and sure, though at first it may sound strange

It does not come from imperfet men, so prone to selfish ways
But comes from one who cannot lie, who wants to bless our days
It comes along with a guarrantee, as certain as the dew
Of promises once made before, all of which came true

He told us that our world would reach, it's current desperate days
That nations would reel in confused despair, like lost children in a maze
That diseases and disasters, would violently give birth
And that mankind would be poisoniing, and ruining the earth

But when these things were to ocurr, and be observed and viewed
They were indications, of imminent good news
An event of wonder, and of joy, to change the world we see
To bring in peace and health and love, and true security

“Thy kingdom come” he promises, with marvels that it brings
To replace all lords and governments, with a righteous, loving King
Who will heal and wipe all tears, and broken hearts will mend
And those of us who are friends of peace, he will call his friends

Restoring youth to the old and frail, and vision to the blind
And removing sickness from our lives, and sorrow from mankind
He'll quell all storms and fires, and calm the mighty quakes
And burn man's deadly weaponry, and missiles he will break

Most amazing of his promises, a grand and glorious act
Will be to empty mankind's graves, and bring our loved ones back
Imagine greeting mothers lost, and husbands once more embrace  
And chidren prematurely gone, to behold their little face

For he has sworn that death will end, and life will never cease
And the world will be awash and glow, with everlasting peace
Our pains and fears will all disolve, and will never come again
And those so selfish and so cruel, will no longer remain  

So ease your mind and console your heart, for this promise will come true
These wonders we can all behold, this he swears to you
Our future is not in man's hands, nor by fate will it be won
For God's will will be done on earth when his glorious kingdom comes


“God will wipe out every tear from their eyes, and death will be no more, neither will sorrow, nor outcry, or pain” - Revelation 21.4 (The Bible)
TOD HOWARD HAWKS Apr 2020
Insanity exsists, in an individual and in humanity. You can get it rare,
medium, or well done. Right now, it seems humanity is ready to order.
Humanity most recently ordered WW I, WW II, The Korean War, The VietNam War, The Iraq Wars (Papa Bush and W), The Afghanistan War
(ditto), Syria, Yemen. ad nauseum. Insanity often results in killings, but
I would argue that it is self-induced, that had there been benevolent,
professional intervention, we could have prevented these mass muder-
fests. But hey, wars, especially big world wars, are money-makers,
and the money-makers are not the ones being killed. And then there are
variations on this theme:  catasphrophic climate change and the imminent
threat of nuclear holocaust. One can get carried away with this killing
stuff, you know. And, what would you like for desert?

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
A graduate of Andover and Columbia College, Columbia University, Tod Howard Hawks has been a poet and human-rights advocate his entire adult life. He recently finished his novel, A CHILD FOR AMARANTH.
Bruce Levine Sep 2019
A cool breeze assaults the heat
     of another summer afternoon
Bringing relief and a hint
     of fall lingering on the horizon
A new season cooling the air
     and painting the trees a myriad of hues
Festival glories revisiting daydreams
     with harvests and goblins and beer fests galore
A time for reflection as days slowly shorten
     and nights cool for sleeping content and relaxed
As fall reawakens splendid sensations
     of cool breezes assaulting another summer day

8/12/19
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2021
for a culture that espouses... i think that's the proper
word: espouses... ridiculously promotes...
Darwinism: i see a terrible "juggling" act happening....
namely: you can't seem to somehow
consolidate with the western "crusade" for
individualism and all the basic Darwinism observations...
i never thought Darwinism was wrong...
sure... it's as right as the heliocentric model...
but if you want to read a map...
a massive orb that's earth pulverising your:
get from A to B...
the earth isn't "flat": i know that...
but to get from A to B... to get around
geographic algebra...
it's like cycling... i'm an aggressive cyclist...
whatever roundabouts are still alive
in that they do not employ traffic lights...
i'm there...
i usually work my way around
a truck on the antonym side of the blind spot...
the outer side of a lane...
and then... we're... go!
                    i love the thrill of wriggling around
traffic with the most minimum amount
of exoskeleton...
it's a thrill to be surrounded by objects
that i know might **** me...
i tried ***... *** isn't even close to this experience...
it's hardly... me imitating...
but... hearing how many cyclists were killed
in London for missing the blind-spot...
getting dragged under the wheels...
plus i just... simply adore the rules!
the authority... the trust that's funnelled
into the concept of traffic...
no where on earth have i found so much:
DASEIN... truly... you need to cycle in heavy
traffic to find your reading of Heidegger!
you can't walk this **** out...
there is so much reciprocation...
so much trust, concern is invoked...
like i said: it's better than ***...
*** doesn't inject you with adrenaline in a way
that *** might:
i guess *** can inject adrenaline...
it's still not the zenith...
when the plethora of emotions associated
with doubt is about as much as that plethora
associated... synonymous with love...
then fear... thrill... almost indistinguishable...
esp. at a roundabout...
how i came to love the white van man...
fearless speed custodian...
i once wrote about this...
unconscious algebra of spatial coordination....
that's how Descartes' res cogitans became
res vanus... the empty thing...
me on my bicycle...
thinking disappears when you have a chance
to generate your own momentum...
it's not enough of a bike... in a car...
better than walking...
it has to be...
there's a bbq happening two doors down...
plenty of Sikhs...
such a shame...
not the party... or that they're Sikhs...
i just listen in... a wall of sound...
even if i tried knowing this many people...
i threw a party once...
ended up ******* a black ******* a leather couch...
blah blah...
so many voices... one door down... Bella...
is sitting on the roof looking at me...
an albino roofer (mongrel cat... dachowiec in
******)
endowed with heterochromia...
there are the spiders... the snails...
an urn of delights of the night...
Asians... well as neighbours go...
you leave a cat with them... the cat might
magically end up... miraculously dying from kidney
failure while you're away...
if the Welsh are joked about as being sheep-shaggers...
don't get me started on the camel-jockeys
who... have beef with pork...
the real sheep-shaggers...

stinking lamb...
ah... that was the distinction...
włókno... wełna... bawełna...
fibre... wool... i was honestly expecting
for bawełna to come out
as: cotton... it's just a synonym of
fibre...

oh look... a googlewhack...
Konofale Uros...
i think i was looking for the spelling of falafel...
i think... i never know these days...
this party two doors down
is somewhat irritating me... not
that i can fit the acronym hierolgyph
of: f.o.m.o.
  i hate parties... i hated parties...
the parties i have thrown were....
parallels...
as one i got to **** a girl...
at another i was cleaning up my high school friends
*****...
the party is slowing down...
obviously... i'm guessing the host took a friend
or two to the back of the garden
to peer two doors down...
since i'm seeing a bald Asian looking
back at me... perched in a pseudo...
akimbo on the windowsill...

what's up?! company lost the thrill?
everyone's turned into rabble...
when drinking too much?
i drink too much...
you know: ahem... "you" what's weird about
being watched?!
it's true... you only really are...
when you are being watched...
it doesn't matter if you think...
thinking per se is not enough
to leave proofs.. traces of your existence...
you need something simple...
perfectly equivalent to what Sartre aimed at:
to be subject...

of the two movies i watched today...
**** me... i watched two movies today...
what's wrong with me?

my new york year... which has an alias:
my Salinger year...
the antithesis of a rom-com...
and a competitor of
the Devil wears Prada...
**** me... how well has... Sigourney Weaver aged!
look at her...
she does the boss role so much better
than... what's her name...
i thought she was proper hot... pancake ****
in Ghostbusters... but look at her now...
mein gott!
it almost feels like...
i want to be married!

oh for heaven's sake... this movie eats out
the devil wears prada... out from the crab bucket...
little girl in a big town sort of mentality...
i could type quicker...
give me 2 hours and i'll spew 2K words of originality...

it really was... the most pristine movie!
it was an... easy movie...
easy as in: i was watching a movie...
i wasn't watching... a *******... Leni Riefenstahl
flick! do "you" even know... how refreshing
that is?
i'm not watching a makeshift Leni Riefenstahl flick!
there... i said it!

here's for a worldly perspective...
the women at the part have receded into shadow...
remnants are still vociferous...
the maxim stands... either *******: as i tell you...
or... *******... as i punch you...
i party solo...

two... very random smoke rings appear...
as they rise..
i poke a finger into each one
like i might poke into the mouth
of my maine **** ginger that's yawning...
the Asian party is over...
the rabble is left:
the people with not intelligence
to deteriorate into a drinking ****:
not enough sausage fests under your belt:
i gather? ha ha...
too many arranged marriages...
welcome to the north!
the eternal night... it does wonders to people
most associated with equatorial dynamics...

i'm sorry... you're coming... you're leaving...
you're taking these Hyperborean women somewhere
beside her usual... fetish fest
of: more than...    the 6"?
i open the window..
i let the air creep in... elevate the staleness...
concerning these women...
is there a central authority figure to...
"guide" them?!

      i do, not, own, them... savvy?
i'm jealous of king David more than i could ever be of
king Solomon...
the man that conquered Goliath...
matched up to Achilles with Hector...
but also wrote... Psalms!
come on! come on!
i know it must tickle the agony of man
to have to have to: worry other men with envy!
men want other men to become envious of their
stature...
problem being... i can simply negate that:
arrival at "purpose"...
believe me... i can...
give me enough... patience...
self-scrutiny... "introspection"...
i can make anything i want:
implode...

oh i'm just looking for a nibble... a scribble...
i want a seed of purposiveness...
an element of potential...
i'm not looking for a gathering...
i want a... whisssssssssssper...
i guessed...
an extension of the S...
in no more / no less...
the missing trill in the English R...
is it?

i write... the boy play... party....
the girls giggle...
hold a mirror to a mirror... in the dark...
then compare glass...
to water... a puddle... a lake:
you will not... even if Xerxes says:
tame either river... or sea!
with whips or with madness!

hold a mirror to a mirror... in the dark...
compare the reflection of that of glass
with what you arrive at...
in the stillness of a lake... or a puddle...

have you ever... held a mirror... toward a mirror...
and...breathed a stroke of.....
smoke into it.... without hoping to conjure up...
fire?!

rauch und spiegel
aber
           non feuer!
hölle braucht; ich brauchen zu... vergessen...
there are female voices among them...

me and my fetish for all things: deutsche.
Ilene Bauer Apr 2017
A movie’s like a novel
With a vista to explore
Which, assuming it’s a good one,
Leaves you wanting even more.

Yet I’ve recently discovered
Something else that quite transports –
It’s a genre that at film fests
Is referred to as “the shorts.”

Several films are shown together
For an hour and a half,
An assemblage that’s so varied
You may cry or scream or laugh.

Every subject matter’s different;
All the settings are, as well
And each film’s uniqueness feels
Like the director’s cast a spell.

Yet just like a full-length feature,
Each short gem seems quite complete
And, when viewed as a collection,
It’s a cinematic treat.
(inspired by CIFF – the Cleveland
International Film Festival)
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2020
oculus per oculus - otherwise:
ear for a year...
a cherry pickled
and a cucumber sloppy
over an iceberg...
dicta: desired limbo...

otherwise: mollusks'
adventures in
the domain of sluggish:
via... no loitering
beside an echo
of: the loitering
around a figurative
sea...

         for an eye for an eye:
but give me van gogh's ears!
will there be...
    a burn agony of
deaf when cheese grating
and sizzling...

cut my ear off:
  the four horsemen of the apocalypse:
and that one
steadying a donkey's gallop...

cuts the ear off and sees
van gogh in a cubism of psychedelia...
the best greek / albanian will know...
spank a dozen morbid quasi
alt junction of:
reserving your place upon
the descent of a new kitchen...

granny grins... and granny sows
the grim architecture of an amiss...
  befriending shadows...
stating: toward the junctions
of reverse kleptomania:
the trench is not a grave...

            texan vector of blue-gushing
auxiliary vendors of...
that liquid breath...
                  by midnight i am no
cry of jurisprudence...
given a heart is a wheelchair
and the antihero is given...
a lollipop of Foucault...

blue suave within the confines
of the plethora of spices...
              because the miracle
of ginger and turmeric on the joints...

some variation of a time stopped...
a history is a corpse with
a breath of puffing ash...
and the suicides have to live
in Weimar Berlin...

           it's not that there's a fixation
on joke:
   discouraging...
a bureaucracy of capitalism like
that of socialism - one hand washes
the other...
two grand gestures of a narrative...
buttered side of the toast dropped
lands face-palm first...
                smothered bottoms up...
to this whirlwind cocktail
of events: my little world
of some variation of kafkaesque
personal:
                   it's hardly any argument:
genesis economics...
the litigation of processes that
end up being either scrapped or...
somehow borrowed from
obscurity:
                 a blockage of details
that heave no narrative except
a shrapnel guise...

                          this... thespian autocracy
over the arts...
we're all expected to write for free...
or... because it's free:
everyone is expected to do so!
no matter...
            i can hope to find
as much of the same procrastination
and anathema in my own
self-loathing i.q. quotas
of diminished replica responsibility...

            the british did save
the eastern indians...
    hell: the pyramids were kept...
because of their cuisine...
            a grand architectural people
came across a ***** of an eden
of spices...
not exactly scurrying for fruits...
forbidden or not...
the death of poetry came with:
a "nuance": sentence! poetic justice!
karma-rhymes?!

the blatant use of black cardamom...
cumin seeds...
"give me curry" in south america...
i.e. chimichurri!
advent of worship to the people
of a past that return to these isles...
like... a silk road camel caravan...
implosion of the seas!
clearly!
             no other year 0...
                    out of circumstances
that history allows...
nostalgia for the 1960s in england...
or 1950s h'america...

            nostalgia and the concept
of butterflies: dressed otherwise:
some variation of adjective to not
loiter around a noun like: concept...
something to expose a tautology
of misnomers in the riddle of a person
not accustomed to rhetoric:

            lay me to bed: body farthest...
mind agitated... come the agony
of being sentenced with a midnight
in an armchair; lay me to bed...
you have no honour: for you have no
reputation...
believe me: this is the least
of what ambition might desire...
consider... an arbeit macht frei work
ethos... a continual stream of 5am wake...
and those demands of
honest work: not the sort of work
of loitering...
         loitering like excesses
of libido: by office alone
of insignia procrastination...
       e.g. in a supermarket...
               could the security guard...
"take me"?
              i don't think so...
i would care if it was the end of the 19th
century and it was somewhere
like Colorado...

let to live...
   the dead have already fathomed
blisters of imprint with oysters
to tease a crab bucket 's worth of
a mounting pressure from
faking mountain with pyramid...

my what a...
******* of 11pm that any other day
would not give up...
me... exfoliating...
with: ambitions concerning Proust...
one up from a tease of Flaubert...
the darling the darling...
you will never mind a continental
writer cite Dickens...
   such an anglophonic extreme of...
   credible: furtherance?
no... not across the tadpole stream...
perhaps across the pond...

          not much to think about:
had i been born... 40 years ago...
                  i'm just sifting through the dust
and limp little richards
and ****** pillz-me-ups...
        and... i guess...
watching a stripper is a bit like
making epitomes of homosexuality
disguised in a well-off attire...
or... making concerns for attention
to detail... at the local butcher's...
however splendid the meat:
the "meat"...
geisha slender itchy tip-toeing quasi ballet...
yeah... one of those...
left-over crumb-fests
that's both Queen and U2
in the anthem criterium
of songs...

                    nothing personal UB40 paddy
go shackle: the urn to a *******
guillotine of harp...
                     such that living
on the isles the welsh, that the scots (as potential)...
certainly... are almost invisible people
should the demographic of Birmingham
be "stressed"...
                         but i have
lived in Scotland and it's unlike
this...       historical England...
this ahistorical London - even on
the northern outskirts in the home counties -
or nearest the trough of the south -
at some figment of my imagination
Brixton -
       how far do the earworms burrow beneath
the clay south of the river?
not very far... Morden?!
is that it?

     Lady Upminster and all that district...
this is not a time for either
rebellion or celebration...
             it's hardly a timekeep of
mourning...
                    it's an ahistorical event:
right now!
      some vagary of a future...
some bricks of a past...
a horrid interpretation of compass:
the crucifix: as driftwood toward north...
and a late cubism...
exfoliation of african ****** details...

             slender hue: my porky pie
pink amber come moonlight...
or some necessary stressor of skins...
                    prior to the door...
a leather doormat...
   onto which i made sacrifices
of my buckle and teeth... and...
                                                lepus dei.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2017
the only motivation to write
is to always abscond from it...
it's not translatable as necessarily
in league with anathematising
said work...
              it will never be a marriage
concerning the art
and the deliberating idiot who
sacrificed a relationship for
a black & white clip of hurt
          possibility...
                  let's call it a one night stand...
the same sort of relationship
between art and artists,
   as god exclaimed:
                                       wasn't me...
i never write poems,
  i ******* orphans,
                only the best art is
refined by being undermined by the
artist,
           or to be compassionate:
        under the impression of being left,
   "abandoned"...
                                 unfinished.

if all poems were named Oliver,
they wouldn't pass between so many
lips...
    let's face it... poems are like prostitutes,
it takes book-clubs and tongue-****-fests
to discuss a take on Proust.
Bruce Levine Aug 2019
A cool breeze assaults the heat
     of another summer afternoon
Bringing relief and a hint
     of fall lingering on the horizon
A new season cooling the air
     and painting the trees a myriad of hues
Festival glories revisiting daydreams
     with harvests and goblins and beer fests galore
A time for reflection as days slowly shorten
     and nights cool for sleeping content and relaxed
As fall reawakens splendid sensations
     of cool breezes assaulting another summer day

8/12/19

www.brucelevine.com
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B07485W4Q1
Janna B Jun 2023
My little ones
racing through childhood
at a speed that feels breakneck.
I love your singing games,
piercing recorder at breakfast,
letters to Santa in July.
Your violins, tickle fests,
colourful plastic and tiny drawings.
Room service dessert,
toys instead of shoes.
Your hugs, your love.
Gappy teeth, smooth hair.
That you always pull scissors first —
never rock or paper.
Learning, learning, learning.
That we can find play—
with deep belly laughing
for the three of us,
across our ages.
Louise Oct 8
𝑺𝒂 𝒏𝒈𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒎𝒂, 𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒌, 𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒖 𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐,
𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒂𝒊𝒃𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒌𝒐...

Maybe our definition of friends differ.
Maybe its meaning changes
from the far east, to the wild west.
Maybe yours are parties and music fests,
while mine means safe space and rest.
Maybe your friends are just good
for fun and vacation,
while my friendship weathers
bad, hell, and even oblivion.

𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒐, 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒔
𝒅𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒐𝒏.
𝑷𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒆 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒆𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆 𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒐.
𝑯𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒂 𝒆𝒍, 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒂 𝒎𝒊 𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒐𝒏,
𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒂 𝑻𝒊,
𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒆𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒂 𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒃𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒔.
𝑵𝒐 𝒆𝒍, 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒂, 𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒂 𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒐𝒔𝒂.

Maybe how we understand friendship
is rather different, indeed.
Maybe you see it as a comical joke,
while I see it as intimate poetry.
Maybe you hear it like another song,
while I listen to it like symphony.
Maybe you think it’s something to be bent,
I’m treating it like something heaven-sent.
Maybe you’re really set on being friends,
I’m already falling down a cliff with no end.

𝑴𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆, 𝒄𝒐𝒏 𝑻𝒖 𝒂𝒚𝒖𝒅𝒂,
𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒂, 𝒅𝒆𝒋𝒂𝒓 𝒅𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒂𝒓 𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒖𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒃𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒐𝒔,
𝒏𝒐 𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝒚 𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒓, 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒐 𝒍𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒓.
𝒀 𝒂 𝒔𝒖𝒔 𝒐𝒋𝒊𝒕𝒐𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒔.
𝑫𝒆𝒋𝒂𝒓 𝒅𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒋𝒐𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏
𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒋𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒐 𝒅𝒆 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆 𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒅𝒐.
𝑵𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒍𝒗𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓 𝑱𝒆𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐
𝒔𝒖𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒐 𝒚 𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒐 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒐𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒔.
𝑬𝒏 𝒔𝒖 𝒏𝒐𝒎𝒃𝒓𝒆, 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒐, 𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒅.
𝑸𝒖𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒔 𝒚 𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂 𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒅.

Basbasan niyo po ang aming pagkakaibigan.
Iwaksi niyo po ito sa kapahamakan,
nawa’y wag sanang mauwi sa pag-iibigan,
lalong lalo na sa sakitan at iyakan.

Siya nawa.

Amen.
"Baler" series, part six

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