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"filibuster" poems
(Inspired by article below) I. Continuity your filibuster egg of sand dazzled curiosity with creaky shell of hints heaped upon the tedium of knowledge's unfurl undeterred by encyclopedic impatience Assurances of rip(Van Winkl)ed economics shooed paper strings of revelation like anarchy-powered taxes summoning a foreword to anachronistic campaigns of environmental friendliness II. Meanwhile years have been filed down to flashes of chronology for continuity's organic rebus However long it took the economic karma to fall into the abodes of hedonistic pharaohs it was instant Skin that ruled behind the constitution of allergic breath bailed on the bones against their most sublime intentions Limbo-treading landlords huddled in their mummified freeze after breadline bashers scolded them with the spoils of a new brand of pyramid scheming Robbers of the coffin palaces stole the intimations of identity theft from today Immortality and freedom were compelled to share a meaning like estranged siblings or bound dynasties I(a). Abydos how you coyly toyed with us with a diversion bordering on monolithic 04 23 14
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Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
VALLEY OF THE OTHER KINGS
He told us the truth. Writing isn't so hard, really. You just sit with a pen and paper, And bleed. Maybe pounding my head Isn't the right way to elicit bleeding. But it did bring the kind of headache That reminded me what I had to bleed for in the first place. White House. White papers. Black suits. Black president. For change. No better. They pretend to have a headache, but their incompetence leaves us with headaches we're too young and shiny to deserve. Aren't we? Filled up With life, Potential, hope. Why do we shoulder their burden? The black suits in the white house made their own headache. It doesn't matter to us. Until it does. Stimulus. Filibuster. Health-care. Bail-out. Drowned-out. Shut-down. Shout-down. Bring-us-down. We could be on our way to the top. Mess-up. Then complain about the headache it brings them. What about us? Because we're the ones affected. Then is the worst part. They do it frighteningly quick. So easy, too. Give-up , And leave for us to Fix-up. We have to shout. Make you listen. Stand-up. One-two. Thousands, millions. Make them listen. March-up. Three-four. Slogans, protests. Make them change. Head-up. Five-Six. Defeat, Regret. See the impossibility. Sit-down. Seven-eight. They won't listen. **** the system. **** the suits. **** the house. **** growing up. Because you know, Now we're grown. So this is the headache They talked about. So this is why We spill our blood. Where's the cancel button? How to delete? It's a cycle, Don't you see. You can't wipe the memory. Why we thought We could ever get rid Of the headache… Beats me.
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Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 12:19 AM UTC
Headache
He told us the truth. Writing isn't so hard, really. You just sit with a pen and paper, And bleed. Maybe pounding my head Isn't the right way to elicit bleeding. But it did bring the kind of headache That reminded me what I had to bleed for in the first place. White House. White papers. Black suits. Black president. For change. No better. They pretend to have a headache, but their incompetence leaves us with headaches we're too young and shiny to deserve. Aren't we? Filled up With life, Potential, hope. Why do we shoulder their burden? The black suits in the white house made their own headache. It doesn't matter to us. Until it does. Stimulus. Filibuster. Health-care. Bail-out. Drowned-out. Shut-down. Shout-down. Bring-us-down. We could be on our way to the top. Mess-up. Then complain about the headache it brings them. What about us? Because we're the ones affected. Then is the worst part. They do it frighteningly quick. So easy, too. Give-up , And leave for us to Fix-up. We have to shout. Make you listen. Stand-up. One-two. Thousands, millions. Make them listen. March-up. Three-four. Slogans, protests. Make them change. Head-up. Five-Six. Defeat, Regret. See the impossibility. Sit-down. Seven-eight. They won't listen. **** the system. **** the suits. **** the house. **** growing up. Because you know, Now we're grown. So this is the headache They talked about. So this is why We spill our blood. Where's the cancel button? How to delete? It's a cycle, Don't you see. You can't wipe the memory. Why we thought We could ever get rid Of the headache… Beats me.
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stolen verses blanket the floor space encircled by the inspiration of others tastelessly faceless pests controls fail as the numbers overwhelm everyone thinks there are special and the selfies are there to prove it zit faced miscreants misrepresent mankind in asexual fodder and anthropomorphic suburban camo turban wearing wash-outs hold court over newbies attempting to sew again hippy seeds their stench, deafening – sandaled dirt clods scamper seeking selfishly surrogates someone to birth their ideas raise and tend the dreams fund the movement all the while recognizing the futility feverishly fapping the frail phallus frequently finding foolish ********* flipped in their folly – ********* the finale freakish frogs filibuster night creeps in as the soft sound of mating toads fill the air stars dot the moonless night complete in its absence of clouds only the wash of the milky way holds hearts – pandering to the philanthropist looking longingly in giving eyes for a scrap of dignity and bread –
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Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
f-bomb
I wouldn't call it a fear of falling in love But how this feels is like A child's drawing of infinity But he tells you Actually it is two people kissing And I want to cut the image in half so I can talk in circles and filibuster the time I should be using to kiss you Kissing does not mean you are falling in love But it is a start In the same way I sleep best with a body against me But I have a twin bed *** is not falling in love But it often ends with you falling asleep against me And from there what do we fall into? and Who does the catching?
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May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 5:09 PM UTC
I Wouldn't Call it a Fear
Shot in the     light of achieve-          (meant all the world) filibuster then, fill your heart until you've      busted, down and rusted and caked with regret      never stand between yourself and         falling, or love will grow hot like    shower-heads turned too far, like        grainy distorted sight streaming out our                   smiling ears, ceaseless cerulean     (I'm dull gold, and you        said you liked polishing)
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Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
Dull Gold
Our republic died today; i wonder who noticed? Very few, i am certain, since most were busy trying to survive in this economy, or feed their children, or worried about healthcare (still), or trying to escape this reality, but something fundamental is different now. The Senate took away the teeth of the filibuster today. Simple majority rules now, no more consensus building.        So?  I don't care about politics or politicians. That is a shame, because they care about you.  In fact, they are counting on you. To stay distracted. To think tyranny is only for distant lands. To think that today's reform won't be        tomorrow's crushing defeat. Black America:        What if tomorrow the House of Representatives        passes a law to make you all slaves again? LGBT Americans:        What if tomorrow the House makes it a law that        all of you be imprisoned for being who you are? Women Americans:        What if tomorrow the House takes away the        abortion option, or worse? All of you are outnumbered. Remember...majority rules now.  The Senate won't slow it down. Be careful who you **** off. Because debate and careful consideration are no longer valued in this Democratic pseudo-Utopia. It interferes with their agenda. Petty tyrants don't just rule in Third World countries. Not anymore. They work on Capitol Hill and live in the White House.
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Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 7:58 PM UTC
The Slip-and-Slide Slope
Well now I'd sell my soul for a pound Of words: all picked clean of ambiguity; Rocks and detritus removed, Preselected for clarity of meaning Predestined for the musical familiarity Measured out for rhyme and syncopation Delivered by some gum chewing, ball-capped deviant Nervously glancing up and down the street As he slips me the stash, and I hand over the cash. Yes, what a dream; instead of the frown Then the squint; with a curse on the scribbled, marked through letters Killing, resurrecting, then killing them all over again Buried, dug up, and reanimated Embalmed, only to be cast again on the bone pile Trying to remove the threadbare impressions With the worn out, gnawed upon pink eraser Drooling, staring at the clock, eating more junk food In between the hours of crisis and midnight The only right answer being To eradicate whatever I like And leave alone whatever makes me uncomfortable Impossible task: insipidity ruins the brilliance The plot's flaccid and lacking moral filibuster The characters weep and sing at the wrong times. What kind of a racket Doesn't even have a black market To turn to when you're desperate, And you've got to die To have your name be remembered, If indeed it ever would be.
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Mar 26, 2010
Mar 26, 2010 at 1:26 PM UTC
Sell My Soul
I have sung too much, too long, of pain. The litany of syllables dictating pangs of wounds And memories of shattered hearts and minds Has drowned out all else. My suit, my complaint, has become a filibuster Against the very light whose absence I mourn. I do not reproach myself for it; T’was necessary, and, more importantly, It was thoroughly real. Even the bleakest song was a worthy agony And so this is not a new lament, But a canticle of reversal. Now I will sing of truth, for truth is beautiful and good. I will sing of wisdom in her refulgence, I will sing of knowledge upon her ivory throne, I will sing of understanding which pierces the veil, Breaking down barriers between hearts and minds, Of that light which dispels ignorant shadows. I will sing of goodness, for goodness is true and beautiful. I will sing of courage, hero’s courage, bold, ****** courage, I will sing of love, mother’s love, sacrificial love, I will sing of charity, generous charity, of humble almsgiving, I will sing of justice, no less just for being merciful, I will sing of humility, so true and sweet it will not sing for itself. I will sing of beauty, for beauty is good and true. I will learn at the knees of the weeping willow, And the stoic mountain shall reveal his smile, I will rediscover sunrise and sunset with each revolution of earth, And I will dance with the birds of paradise, Cackling gleeful with cheering toads and crickets and hooting apes, And I will sing you a new song.
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Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 3:21 PM UTC
A New Song
I have sung too much, too long, of pain. The litany of syllables dictating pangs of wounds And memories of shattered hearts and minds Has drowned out all else. My suit, my complaint, has become a filibuster Against the very light whose absence I mourn. I do not reproach myself for it; T’was necessary, and, more importantly, It was thoroughly real. Even the bleakest song was a worthy agony And so this is not a new lament, But a canticle of reversal. Now I will sing of truth, for truth is beautiful and good. I will sing of wisdom in her refulgence, I will sing of knowledge upon her ivory throne, I will sing of understanding which pierces the veil, Breaking down barriers between hearts and minds, Of that light which dispels ignorant shadows. I will sing of goodness, for goodness is true and beautiful. I will sing of courage, hero’s courage, bold, ****** courage, I will sing of love, mother’s love, sacrificial love, I will sing of charity, generous charity, of humble almsgiving, I will sing of justice, no less just for being merciful, I will sing of humility, so true and sweet it will not sing for itself. I will sing of beauty, for beauty is good and true. I will learn at the knees of the weeping willow, And the stoic mountain shall reveal his smile, I will rediscover sunrise and sunset with each revolution of earth, And I will dance with the birds of paradise, Cackling gleeful with cheering toads and crickets and hooting apes, And I will sing you a new song.
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filibuster to the end, my      friend of real significance, we've come this far hand in              hand so the taste           is only sweeter
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May 6, 2012
May 6, 2012 at 8:08 PM UTC
Back and Fro, To and Forth
In Montenegro today grow Swiss in diplomacy as a filibuster in adria nigh in Azerbaijan why join forces with The Antilles with Turks and Caicos shan't delight in Zurich yet once again there's Aleppo.
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Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 3:43 PM UTC
XIX (A Chill Tea Party)
I am seething regret I am the walls of the terrace which you broke down Filibuster my longwinded-ness And break the backs because of your freedoms I am seething regret We call it freedom of the body I call it ****** and **** it, I will not be silenced I am sick and ******* tired of children dying I am sick and tired of mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers crying. We are so selfish, that we refuse life, because we believe our bodies have that right. I am a man, yes, that is true. I cannot speak from a woman's point of view. But I guaran-fucking-tee you That my viewpoint would not change If my genitals sank in rather than pushed out I could spit tacks And I could break backs Watch me seethe and writhe I don't want to hear your point of view, I want to hear the sound of silence Because no more children would be dying For freedom
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Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 8:22 PM UTC
Welcome to my life (They do it big in Texas)
Her wild flowering A visceral encountering Of delight empowering A mystical memorizing endowing. To meander life’s mess Love thyself Through mental cluster And cleansing filibuster. One’s learnt to let go Couldn’t her though A memory & lasting glow I’ll cherish so. Keep a treasured encounter.
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Oct 14, 2021
Oct 14, 2021 at 7:03 PM UTC
Her wild Flowering
A frozen stripper wept in the sullen street of Berlin in 1945 Some Stray dogs also wailed With her in the midst of Howling Sorrow The same frozen stripper Wins wild outcry At the white house in 2017 As her puppies moan for an access to her breast lock Amidst filibuster furor
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May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 2:43 PM UTC
Frozen Stripper
if they don't show it the door, it will show them the door in '22-'4.
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Mar 19, 2021
Mar 19, 2021 at 11:40 PM UTC
Reply to Sunday News, Bust The Filibuster
Someone hit pause on my game of life, I'm now on a coordinated assault about the subject of limbo, Stepping onto buses that are running ahead of schedule, Following a clock and assuming I know how to read it, You see time has forgotten me, Caring only for my serenity not my sanity, The outstanding speech was really a hidden filibuster, Time has won when I know what's going to happen next, Different tracks splitting on an atom, Spinning gears, cutting ties, Following death, In that second I am on pause
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Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 2:39 PM UTC
Pause
"Obstructionism...obstructionism: It has to be my favorite -ism. So what if we have a schism. Three cheers for obstructionism!   "Who cares if it’s wrong or right? The important thing is fight, fight, fight. I don’t care what others say; But I'll be ****** if they get their way!   "You have your cause, I have mine; But still I have to draw the line: I don’t believe in compromise— That’s a word that I despise.   "My constituents voted for me. I am sure they’ll all agree That I’m the one who knows the best When any issue is addressed.   "So we shut the government down. There’s a jewel in the crown: Knowing you can always guide The folks to blame the other side.   "I know there’s a golden rule, But let me tell you: I’m no fool. It does not apply to you When YOU'VE got wealth and status, too.   "I let lobbyists speak their mind And with their cause I’ll be aligned. (That depends on the amount That ends up in my bank account.)   "How I love to filibuster With ALL the effort I can muster! Also, stalling—it’s worth noting— Is good for keeping us from voting.   "It’s political suicide To let yourself forget to hide Your real feelings on a matter And not to indulge in senseless chatter.   "Please don’t think we are inept. Actually, we’re quite adept At killing proposals one by one (And getting very little done).   "Obstructionism...obstructionism-- The next best thing to favoritism. We have an ideological schism, So three cheers for obstructionism!" - by Bob B
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Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 9:40 PM UTC
Obstructionism
"Obstructionism...obstructionism: It has to be my favorite -ism. So what if we have a schism. Three cheers for obstructionism!   "Who cares if it’s wrong or right? The important thing is fight, fight, fight. I don’t care what others say; But I'll be ****** if they get their way!   "You have your cause, I have mine; But still I have to draw the line: I don’t believe in compromise— That’s a word that I despise.   "My constituents voted for me. I am sure they’ll all agree That I’m the one who knows the best When any issue is addressed.   "So we shut the government down. There’s a jewel in the crown: Knowing you can always guide The folks to blame the other side.   "I know there’s a golden rule, But let me tell you: I’m no fool. It does not apply to you When YOU'VE got wealth and status, too.   "I let lobbyists speak their mind And with their cause I’ll be aligned. (That depends on the amount That ends up in my bank account.)   "How I love to filibuster With ALL the effort I can muster! Also, stalling—it’s worth noting— Is good for keeping us from voting.   "It’s political suicide To let yourself forget to hide Your real feelings on a matter And not to indulge in senseless chatter.   "Please don’t think we are inept. Actually, we’re quite adept At killing proposals one by one (And getting very little done).   "Obstructionism...obstructionism-- The next best thing to favoritism. We have an ideological schism, So three cheers for obstructionism!" - by Bob B
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