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The sunset is beautiful
I only wish you were here
to complete the evening

If you were
what would we do?
Where would we go?
Perhaps we'd just stay here
sitting on the steps
standing over the water
leaning on the buildings by the docks
simply talking
about how life has been
individually, several miles apart

Familiar our exchanges might be,
no small thanks to
our fancy flatscreen devices,
I'd still want to hear each word
while we do whatever we desire
because you'd be here
and we'd be together
at last in person again
laughing, smiling, jesting
holding and stroking each other
poking and patting in this place and that
all while looking out at the sunset
although I wouldn't want
to look away even if I could
from those deep brown eyes
flowing with the tone of your soft skin
and the groomed lines of your elegant hair;
perfect as a pristine painting
whether afar or in the details.

I only wish
that you were here
beside me.
Just another fantasy by another hopeless romantic.
Dark n Beautiful Nov 2020
The week has to have a weekend
Days have to have a tomorrow
And goodbye to yesterday’s/
In turns will bring the months to an end/

What do we have to face
moving forward setbacks and  more
worried looks in the bystanders eyes..
When all is set and done, we have to say grace
We have to look up every morning and whisper to the skies.

The news broadcaster’s never speak of genuine love,
They only wishes to be littered,
While, begging folks to do their part
The cooing of the dark lonely dove
a symbol that there’s is no more  love in ones heart
during the these stressful day/

Ten o’clock curfew at night,\/
Essentials workers must only be seen at dawn/
No more than ten to twelve people on sight/
And large outstanding gathering must be gone/

Black Friday’s deals, window shopping strolls
Everything seem on hold, the biggest black hole of 2020/
And nothing spoke to me: not even a 60 inch flatscreen TV/

Let’s take a page from the Jewish customs
Bury the dead in the next seventy two hours/
All November traditions is limit/
Thanksgiving Day a Tic, tok

All Saints Day, All Souls Day, Mischief Night, Bonfire Night
Once you take down the statues, of useless figures
Would History of the injustices will be erase/
The world is hurting,
rock smashes scissors
break our swords
Scissors cut paper
tear up our poetry
paper covers rock.
shielded by policy

we have our voices.
all rock, all scissor, all paper.
all spock, all lizard
we do not play games, we Speak.
We throw spock hands like Gang signs
spit parsel tongue at pride haters
we write love letters to revolution
We cut red tape with our long fuzes
Hit rock bottom, more bass in our
Voices than god knows what to do with
So we tell him exactlly where it should go.

Rock Paper Scissors Lizard Spock

They hold their pens like scissors
carving history books into erasure poems

We would swing our pens like swords.
But no leader we trust has been elected yet.

We would have a leader to guide us
But snakeoil salesmen plague our trenches.

There would be no snakeoil salesmen if
we had a stable government

We would have a stable government
but the stability was sharpied out of our history books.

And To history, loud voices sound
like the fires of god.
And are we not the voices with more bass then God knows what to do with.
without words on the wind,
There is no flame
so aren't we fire.

We all have tealights waiting in cold oven hearts.
stone hearths begging for Ignition
eager for bootleg promises of warmth
The orange rhetoric of our future
no warmer than tinders logo.
or a video recording of a fireplace
flickering on a flatscreen at best buy.
We are distracted constantly.
misdirected by Houses of paper cards
origami swans we don't dare unfold
Staying ignorant of the tire track liner inside.
origami swans are so much more beautiful
when they have secrets, right?

I have a matchstick
watch me strike it lit
flare this paper swan into a pheonix.
And hold it in my fist.
there will be fire.
and it will not be a metaphor
But It will be a revolution
And it will be a pheonix
and the pheonix WILL be a metaphor

The Rabbi at Temple Beth El
said when a mans consumed by gods fire
it is a severance from faith, a spiritual death.
what have we done
if not lost faith in our government?
Been consumed by the fires of god.
and why not tattoo pheonix feathers
on our backs?
at least this death gave us warmth.
a home in the world's ashes.

I stared at the dragons fire that stormed towards me
thanked it for the oppurtunity
to walk out of this world
holding dragons eggs
Like Daneris Tygareon
and they will be real dragons.
incubated by REAL fire
despite this crumbling cataclysm
you call a great america.
Spock handed Lizards larger and louder
with all the rocks
paper and scissors they need
to set the world on fire.
To Finally see something beautiful be born.
A Home that keeps them warm.
Max Evans Mar 2013
Burning of eyes as I just awoke
My room pitch black
The warmth of my bed makes me want to stay forever
But excitement boils over my five year old mind
as I remember it is Christmas morning

My feet turn to ice as I stick them out of the blanket
The floor making them stick.
I lift up my feet and gallop to my sisters room.
Boom, boom, boom,
My heels make contact with the hardwood floor

I grab the golden **** to my sisters room
I push quietly but fast
The door makes a slight squeak
I sprint to her bedside.
“WAKE UP CAMILLE IT’S CHRISTMAS!” I yell in the middle of her room.
At that point, I didn’t care about waking my parents up.

She sits right up with a smile on her face
And flings the blankets beside her legs as she puts her feet to the ground.
We race down the hallway
Dogs nails tapping on the floor as they follow us to the living room
The big, dusty, gross purple couch is the barrier between
me and the present I have been dreaming about for this entire year,
A new bike.
I run around the couch to see the chrome shining in the moonlight
The tires casting a shadow over the small area rug.
Stockings on the back of the big leather chair,
which instantly drew our attention.

We tear open the stockings and compare the new trinkets we got.
Cardboard, tin wrapping, and chocolate wrappers flying everywhere.
We were smiling so much I swear we could hear them.

Parents come out to see us grinning beside the heater as we tear apart our favorite toy for the day.
We gather around the living room like it was superbowl sunday and the tree is our
flatscreen.
The blue and silver and red and green collage of corny wrapping paper,
the giant boxes wrapped tightly and perfectly.

Dad is beside the tree, deciding which present we can open, and lightly tossing it to us.
We catch is as carefully as we could, set it on our laps and wait for our turn to unwrap.

As thank you’s are thrown around like baseballs at a little league practice
I patiently glance at my mom, and get the nod that I can unwrap.
This square box is staring eye to eye with me and I get the jitters as I unwrap it.
The red paper finally off, I open the box with ease.

What I found was the coolest thing ever, thats all I remember.

But now, that box is filled with my happiness.
My memories.
Never has an empty box held so much.
It has the family dinners,
The camp outs and bon fires.
The laughs that come from the belly while playing games around the table.
The piano lessons for hours
And those coloring books that were more sacred than the bible.

But for now, the box is closed for the time being.
Sitting upon a shelf in my closet, waiting for the right time to be opened again.

The greatest gift I have ever received is the memories of home.
What home is to me is all inside that box.

Dads cooking on the table,
Moms questions about our day at school,
Camille talking about her math homework.

Now it’s just two lonely guys sitting at a table
discussing how ****** the economy is,
girls,
that one time when he tried to give me “the talk”
But he doesn’t need to, I go to public school after all.

What I am trying to say is, I miss those family dinners more than anything.
I miss the nights we would spend outside gazing at the stars
Pointing out the constellations in the sky and making up our own.

I look for those constellations all the time.
I once found a rose, and I named it Camille.
Dad never knew why I named it that, since shes my sister.
I named the constellation of the rose Camille because
Well, she has the rosy cheeks and the lovely smile.
But she sure as hell has her thorns.

A family dinner now is three people instead of four,
I say bedroom with a plural,

But this family, although gone through hell and back,
We live together in between different walls, roads, and doors.
But most of all, we live behind our present, and live in the past.

I want to end this by saying, Christmas brings new memories and my favorite time of the year,
because then my family exists.
I started to open presents slower and slower,
and hugging tighter and tighter.
And loving more and more.
I love you, Mom, Dad, Camille.
I really do, even when you think I don’t,
I love you guys, and I always will.
Aditya Shankar Dec 2015
The universe behind your eyes bursts at the seams
And inside you hide in unnamed galaxies
You wish to speak of the wisdom of trees
You want to talk about the calm of seas
A momentary distraction is all you need
To turn the voices down, to live a silent dream
It fills up your mindscape with high-def imagery
A 42-inch flatscreen TV.
Palindrome poem #4
Once read, go from bottom to top
Emily Leong Oct 2013
I've heard the creak of the stairs
as she passes over them
for the eleventh time today,
laundry basket wrapped around her hip,
its soft plastic shape
molded to the curve of her
from the number of times she's held it close.

I've heard the silence of a muted television
when he lets the flatscreen lives pass by
as my sister starts in on another story,
laughing about children he will never meet
and looking into her
to remember how much of him she is.

I've heard the warmth of two voices joined into one
from the telephone pressed closely to my ear
both of them sitting in separate rooms,
a different receiver in each of their hands,
as if our living room is the size of this whole country
and the arm chairs in it are rooms
in which we each sit,
the phones walkie-talkies we've made
a part of this game
of pretending that we are all together,
conversing across the fireplace
of New England autumn and
the blue carpet of Lake Erie.
Big Virge Jul 2017
Ya Know .....

It Truly is ... INCREDIBLE ... !!!

The Effect of seeing a ... " FlexibLe " ...
WOMAN ... who is ... " ****** " ... !!!!!!!!!

By This ... I mean ...
She's ... Credible ...
cos' her mind's ... BEYOND .........................................................

A ... Vegetable ...
with A ***' ... that's Far From ................................... Spherical ........ !!!

STRONG and ... FIRM ... !!!
cos' she makes it ... Work ...
in ways ... " Most girls " ...
Now Choose ... to ... shirk .........................................

Especially in ...
Those ... " Maturing " ... years ...

Where ... Staying Thin ...
Demands ... Shifting ... gears ...
and ... Exercising ... !!!!! ...

I met a girl ... Today ...
who made me ... Feel This Way ... !!!

We've Met .... Before ...
but it's ...... been a .......................................... while .................

You ... Know The Score ....
Kinda' like ... Her Style ... !?!

Got her ... " Digits " ...
WITHOUT ... Blinking ... !!!

Could this be where ... ?
Incredible ... Dares ...
to start to ... Share ...
What it is ... to ... Find ...
someone who ... Binds ...
with you ... for ... LIFE ... !!?!!

An INCREDIBLE ... Thing ... !!!
Like ... " Chance Meetings " ... ???

That ... make you think ....

" How Crazy is this ?!? "

Time will ... TELL .....................................

But it's ... " Tenable " ... ?!?
cos' our timing seemed ...

.... IMPECCABLE .... !!!!!!!!

But .... Moving on ......
WITHOUT ... Love Songs ... !!!

It's INCREDIBLE ... How ...
These words ... Expound ... !?!

Because of ... " Something ' ...
that could be ... Nothing ...

Yeah .....
The Mind's ... INCREDIBLE ... !!!
when thoughts become ... PLENTIFUL ...
and you "EMBRACE" ... Your ... Mental ...
in ways ... NOT ... Detrimental ... !!! ...

It's ... " Almost like " ...
A ... " Stencil " ...

Enabling us to ...
.... " Pencil " ....

Our Next Move and ...
... " Assemble " ...

A way to ...
Groove and REVEL ... !!!
As if you'd won ...
A ... Medal ... !!! ...

This verse is ... Existential ...
or just ... " Experimental " ... ???

Like ....
" New Techniques of " ... Dental ...

Involving ...

" New " ... Utensils ... !!!

This verse has ... " Rhyme Potential " ..
to earn myself ... " Credentials " ...
Instrumental and ... ESSENTIAL ... !!!!!
in showing just how ... SPECIAL ...

The use of words ... CAN BE ... !?!

Incredible ... INDEED ... !!!

Through use of ... " Poetry " ...

" Professional " ... " Exceptional " ...
Contextual ... " Collectibles " ...

Commendable ... " Indelible " ...
Credible ... and ... " Seminal " ...

You just wait and .... See ... !!!

Delectable ... Digestable ...
and Legible ... to Read ...

Prophetical ............................. ?

" Maybe " ......... ?!?

when speaking ...
About ... " Scenes " ..............................

Accesible in .... " Dreams " ....

Dreams of ... " Future Themes ............................

That change how ... " We Now Be " ...

REPREHENSIBLE ... INFLEXIBLE ... !!!

Susceptible ....
to ... GREED ... !!!!!

and acts Defined as  ... TERRIBLE ... !!!!!!

By ... Hypocrites Mostly ... !!!

The .....
" Electable " ... INTELLECTUALS ...

CONTEMPTIBLE ...
I Believe ... !!!!!! ...

Whose ... " Sentinels " ...
Directional ....
Points to .... Facilities ...

CORRECTIONAL ... " Man PLEASE !!! " ....

Their ... " Receptacles " ...
NEED ... " Medical " ...

So that ....
They can ... Receive ...

A ... " Congressional " ... REPRIEVE ... !!!

FREE OF ............................................................."Fal­lacies" ...... !!!!!

" Recessional " ... and Decimal.
According to ... " MP's " ... !?!

and Leaders .... INTERNATIONAL ...
Who Claim to be ... " Quite Rational " ...
when sending ...  " EXPENDABLE " ... Teams ... !!!
to make SPECTACLES ... Overseas ... !!! ...

Fit For ... " Flatscreen TV's " ... !!!
or YES ... for ... " Movie Screens " ... !!!!!

That Line ... would seem ... ?
to be a ... Connectable Seam ...
to some ... " Expendables 3 " ... !!!

But Before ... I end ...
This ..... Festival .....

of wordplay ... " Intertextual " ...

Has this been ... " Hypothetical " ... ?
or what's called ... Existential ... ?!?

Well ...
What It's ... NOT ...

Is ... ****** ... !!!!!

because it's from ... " My Mental " ...
and a meeting ... " Incidental " ..............................

That ...
Somehow got ... CEREBRAL ...

" Poetic and " ...
Quite Regal ...

Exhibiting to ... People ...

How my ... UNQUENCHABLE ...
THIRST ... is ... Exceptional ... !!!

for verse that's ..... Credible ....
Respectable and ... SENSIBLE ... !!!

But NOT THIS WORD ...... !!!!!!

... " Lamentable " ... !!!

YES It's ... " Intellectual " ...

Comprehensible and ... Connectable ...
because it flows like .... Ventricles ........................................................

It also is ... Commendable ...
and ... I'd say ... INCONTESTABLE ... !!!!!

When saying ....

" It's Incredible "
Just having some fun with words after being inspired, like the poem says, by a woman out jogging in the sun, by the Caribbean Sea .....
Hear the ***** of glasses,
shriek of chairs against wood,
photos streamed across walls
elbowing for attention.
Smell the sawdust simmer from the floor,
knife-carved letters etched
decades before by dead hands,
wishbones strewn around
by lads who never returned.
The stubbly Irish guy pours a McSorley,
watch the marigold glug into the mug
and froth over the top.
A gaggle of women natter at the back,
the flatscreen, out of place, chatting away too.
Written: February 2017.
Explanation: A sonnet of sorts written in my own time for university, inspired by an image of McSorley's Old Ale House in New York City. PLEASE NOTE that changes are very likely to this piece in the coming months. All feedback welcome. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found on my HP home page.
NOTE: Many of my older pieces will be removed from HP at some point in the future.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2015
pedantically clean and orientated by monday march and morning? can’t be a poet, must be a schoolteacher of english - as it goes, chaotic on the poet’s bookshelf as inside a painter’s studio.*

the best poetry, i find, is done,
by the misappropriation of nouns:
just for the giggles
of that misplaced king o’ whisked
into pheasant pleasantries:
troubleshooting plato’s cave
in the panasonic flatscreen;
because - mighty internet - allows
my input too - isn’t a passive digit input
to get the cookie feeling of staring
en masse at “the most historic moment in broadcasting history.”
The Dedpoet Nov 2016
You **** a reindeer while checking your hellopeotry account and driving.

2. Every Christmas Card you send has one of your poems in it.

3. At the family gathering you make everyone listen to one of your poems.

4. You write a poem about a romantic elf.

5. You send Santa a sonnet of what you want for Christmas.

6. You go to the mall Santa and ask him for one of your poems to become a daily.

7. Instead of gifts you pass out poems to loved ones.

8. You write a haiku about yellow snow.

9. You feel great sorrow for the turkey you are stuffing and write a poetic eulogy.

10. You buy yourself a brand new pen and pad and give it to yourself.

11. Instead of cookies and milk, you leave Santa a sonnet.

12. You ponder Rudolph's red nose and how rough he must have it.

13. You wrap the gifts with your poems hoping someone will actually read your poetry.

14. You write a poem titled "Black Friday" and make a wondrous philosophical poem about how the maddening crowds beat you to that 41inche flatscreen.

15. Instead of Christmas carols you stand and perform spoken word in front of neighbors homes.

16. You hold your kid's gifts hostage until they read your poems.

17. You write a poem about the holidays on hellopeotry.
(Yeah you know ones coming)

18. In a fit of poetical rage, you write how the elf's must be set free or get paid for what they do.

19. You write a farewell poem to 2016.
(Yeah you know its coming)

20. Last but not least: you might be a poet when Santa has you on the naughty list for writing cheesy poetry.
(Im guilty)
Happy Holidays
Big Virge Sep 2021
Now This Poem Is Steered...
Towards The Crazy Things...
That We See And Hear... !!!
  
From Women And Fellas...
Who Are Changing Their Genders...
  
To The Type Whose Agendas...
Prove That They're Pretenders...
When It Comes To... ***...
And Who They Like To Bed... !!!
  
I’ve Said It Before...
And I’ll Say It Again...
It Doesn't Seem Pure...
To Be Wanting Children...  
  
If SAME *** Movements...
Are What You Choose...
To Now DEFINE YOU... ?!?
  
Cos It’s Just CRAZY To Me... ?!?
To... TRULY BELIEVE...
That It’s A NATURAL Thing...
To... Claim To Want Kids...
  
If You Are A Man...
Who Likes To **** *****... ?!?
  
Or If You’re A Woman...
Who Loves LICKING *****... ?!?
  
Now To Me That’s... CRAZY... ?!?
  
But It’s What We Now See...
From Those In The Movies...
To Those We Now See...
On Our Flatscreen TV's  ... !!!
  
So These People CLEARLY...
Have ALWAYS Been Part of TV Teams...
That Work … BEHIND The Scenes... !!!
  
It Seems... LITERALLY... !!!
  
That’s Just A JOKE OKAY...
So Don’t Get Bent Out of Shape... !!!
  
Cos’ There Are CRAZY THINGS...
That Live In... DIFFERENT Skins... !!!
  
Like Men Who’ve Been Jailed...
Due To Charges of ****... !!!
Who Then MARRY The Chick...
Who ACCUSED THEM of It... !?!?!
  
Once They've Served Their Time...
For A SERIOUS Crime...
That They DIDN'T Commit... ?!?
  
And That’s A... REAL Thing...
Because I’ve Met A Man Who DID... !!!
  
Now Does That Seem Right... ?
Or Is That Just... CRAZY...

To MARRY... A Lady... ?!?
Who CHANGED Your Life...
Because of Telling LIES... ?!?
  
There Are TOO MANY Crimes...
To Now Write Within Rhymes... !!!
  
But Here Are … One Or Two...
That Prove That CRAZY MOVES...
Are Pulled By Youngsters Too... !!!
  
I’ve Recently Seen...
A Girl of... Nineteen...
  
Treat Her Own MOTHER... !?!
Like Some Kind of Lover...
Who'd Abused Her Trust...
So Then Figured She’d Shut...
And Then LOCK OUT Her Mom...
From Their Shared Apartment...
On Her Work Vacation In The Caribbean... ?!?
  
Because of... IGNORANCE... !!!
And Her Temper That Runs...
Within Her Like The ***...
That Bajans’ Drink For Fun... !!!
  
A Vision That STUNNED...
And Left Me Rather SHOCKED... !!!
  
To See That One SO YOUNG...
Could Act Like Who She Was...
Was GREATER Than The Lady...
Who Raised Her From A Baby... ?!?
  
To Me That’s JUST CRAZY... !?!
Because... To Put It PLAINLY...
  
If I’d EVER Shown...
... Such DISRESPECT... !!!
To One of My Parents...
Back In The Days...
When I Was Teenaged...
  
You’d NEVER of Read...
ANY Big Virge Poems... !!!!!!!!!
  
Because I’d Be DEAD... !!!
  
Due To The Punishment...
That Would of Knocked Some SENSE...  
... UPSIDE of My Head... !!!
  
Because Those Were The Days...
Where Disciplines REIGNED...
  
That Are Seen Today...
As... ABUSIVE Traits... !!!
Systems WON’T TOLERATE... !!!  
  
The Things That We See And Hear NOWADAYS...
Are Now FRYING BRAINS Cos’ They TRULY AMAZE... !!!
  
Like Hearing These CLAIMS...
That... Black Lives Matter... !!!
  
When It’s CLEAR That Some ARABS...
STILL SEE Blacks As... SLAVES... !!!
  
So Are QUICK To SHAME...
Any... Arab Babe...
Who Picks Some Dark Skin...
To... Truly Bind With...
  
Because They CLAIM...
  
That It Is FORBIDDEN...
Or The Word... “ HARAM “...
To Be Linking UP With...  
Any Man Whose Skin's DARK... !!!  
  
Because...
  
SLAVES Shouldn’t Be...
Part of Family Trees...
That Some Arabs See...
As Needing PURITY... !!!
  
Which Is TRULY CRAZY... ?!?
  
Cos’ When It Comes To DARK Breeds...
Their Philosophies Seem...
To Resemble... NAZIS... !?!
  
While Supremacist Teams...
See THEIR People As Weak... !!!
  
And EXTREMISTS They Deem...
To Be Those UNWORTHY...
of Seeing... UNITY...
  
When It Comes To White Crews...
of Supremacists... Who...
  
STILL HATE A DARK FACE...
Even In This NEW Age... ?!?
  
Where Black Lives Now MATTER...
Well... “ APPARENTLY “... ?!?
  
Which Is CLEARLY CRAZY... !?!
  
When You See How Police...
Treat Black People In Streets... !?!
  
So MANY FALLACIES...
That Are TRULY CRAZY... ?!?
Clearly Rule What We Deem...
To Be Our Human Breed...
  
Like The CLAIM That We're FREE...
To Air Our Views FREELY... !!!
  
UNLESS You Air Views...
That OFFEND Certain Groups...
Like The... LGBT... !!!
  
As Well As The Queers...
Who’ve Now Made It CLEAR...
That They Now EXPECT...
To Get Some RESPECT... !!!
  
For... WHO They Are... !!!
Or You’ll Face Being Charged...
With Crimes Now Designed...
To Keep Thinking IN LINE... !!!!!
  
With New Age Policies... !!!
  
Which We All Can Now See...
May Be Somewhat Off Key... !?!
  
When Opinions Can't Be...
Part of... SOCIETIES... ?!?
Or New Media Feeds... !?!
  
Which Is Why I Believe...
That A BACKLASH Is Coming......
Due To Things Being Steered...
Towards What's … Corruptive... !!!
  
That’s Stirring Up Things...
That May Well Prove To STING... !!!
  
Due To Falling Victim...
of Simply... OFFENDING... !?!
  
And The Things That We’ve Heard...
And Now Seen... APPEAR...
  
In....
  
“ The CRAZY Things That  
     We See And Hear ! “
We really do see some strange things in each other !
Austin Hunt Sep 2019
Two bros converged into a fellowhood
And stoked to share their Fight Club quotes
And be two broskis, juiced they stood,
And shotgunned PBRs, long as they could,
till they were wrecked in a sweet-*** boat

Then proclaimed the bros, into the air,
“Turn on the flatscreen, let’s watch the game”,
it was Saturday so the day was theirs;
and as they sat in their folding chairs,
the smell of axe the air became

And clad in their Costas they loudly played
a song no bro’s cracked iPhone lacks.
Oh, they know their bops like they know their whey!
They smelled their teen spirits and exhaled away,
JUUL clouds of fruit flavors with swag densely packed.

There is no replacing these two guys
and their dudely jockish fashion sense.
Two bros converged as two would, and aye-
They forged the path bros travel by,
a path of bliss and ignorance.
Valentine Aug 31
the answering machine let out a beep
with a message soon following
just words stringing together sentences
phonetics, tongues branching the space
between syllables
not a voice, a sound decorated with an accent
created by a language that has taken
all of history to form

and i slept through it all

you can hear the transmission towers
around my house
buzz if you walk underneath them
electricity with somewhere to be
shoving breakfast in its mouth
and rushing out the door
to my neighbors and their 32 inch
flatscreen TV

and i slept through it all

the DVD player will keep replaying
the film if you don't unplug it
one continual loop all night long
scene after scene, cinematic sequences
following quickly in succession
without a hitch, without fault
one actor triggering the other
one domino falling upon another

crashing and burning

spiraled far into the nighttime
i woke up
to unfamiliar noises and unseen voices
people made of black and white splotches
projected from a box aflame with static
and i decided right then
a starring role in the world wasn't for me
falling back into sleep

the movie continued on forever
and i slept through it all
loosely inspired by a childhood memory of mine where i fell asleep in front of the tv and woke up hours later to the movie restarted and playing the exact scene i fell asleep to. pretty eerie to 9 year old me haha.
Butch Decatoria Jan 2021
The Bronx in the rain:
Slick city stones'         Sovereign somber gloom
Oh late afternoon!
so overcast with the blues...
     Navy : leaves of tinsel sheen,
     Midnight : music and
Sapphire
Jazz         /dancing shadows
beneath light-post misty
gold.

Outside, the bricks are just bricks
but down there, mon frere,
lo the lovers' tight embrace
in the fallow light showers
catching all eyes keen to their PDA
as well as mine wide
Flatscreen
Attention...
Peliculas and tall stories
From a brown stone perch, traffic whirls
           sleep now hurries
the city slow as thunder rolls
loud
On blacktop oil slick roads,
heavy as the gutter water on
asphalt / streets’ cold bones
Like this town’s prehistorics;
When Time stands still
In lovers hallmark corners, there
In **** shacks
All wet in the gills,
fish kisses taught kids
how honey smacks
now that the audience is frozen
With anticipation,
Wide binocular eyes
                      View snapshots with captions
Options
It’s a real Banksy / real lives...

Monet meadows of skies
        raindrop brush strokes
                            chaos maelstrom
     Wet dreams rivulet

All the while I am
Dry inside
With humid anticipations,
At a pause / intently / intensely
watching
               neighbors in hooded moods.
This reminds me
how it must of felt / now
in this commotion
by mere emotions
so reminiscent
of the artists’ weeping dreams
         wordless scripts
scenes not unheard
While
inside I'm still dry and
        dwelling...
In need
is it Wish that spurns?
Still, in this stone      dwelling
I am dry inside
    Trying to hide not
           Not looking down
Aye dios mio, oh those two
      love birds
In their gossamer glow

Oh how I drown
when they finally kiss…

It’s not envy
But a sort of empty
drowning
Myself without,
Yet feeling
Their kiss so loud.
Such is empathy,
Drowning without...
Revised.
A query one respondent
     sent didst seem
tummy tubby sincere, possibly
     channeled by cyber sea men,
via bayou A true Britt, aye esteem,
sans abba ra ca dab invoked
     by the spirit Jim Beam
     unwittingly unleashed theme

for this reason
     one humble rhyme
     stir, Me doth write,
     boot promise NOT TO SCREAM
for convenient idea
     to expound ream
(room) minute eight ting,
     about mine previous poem

     "Sleep Inducing Powers...
     Computer Screen"
     smote an idea,
     I could never outdream,
no need to search,

      cuz renown unknwn fan gave
     rise to his nonmainstream
re: "By the way, Matthew,
     "How do you like
     your Lenovo computer?"

Perhaps understandably
     concluded the whole green
kit and caboodle
     tubby a stand alone lean
(and few an proud) machine
sprung from Apple royalty,
     (well linkedin to
     a stevedore jobber seam

ming lee on same playing
     field as a queen
(comprising an A-1
     actor/ actress team)
with Ali MacGraw -
     his wife number deux
which thread strays
     **** sitter ably,

     where unsuspecting reader few
ming with for me (easily)
     getting off track -
     tis only hue
man and hoopfully NOT Jew
van aisle attempting to interweave
     more than one
     concept (delicately loo

ping sentence strands),
     where warp, and
     woof no...no...new
NOT for any
    largesse, nor moo
hoof fish hints,
     but singing Giacomo Antonio
     Domenico Michele

     Secondo Maria Poo
shin knee (the above
     very long name, actually
     authentic i.e. "NOT FAKE"
     a stand alone queue
oh...whoa yes..yes...
     yes please shew
tolerance, how elegiac

     these metaphors too
be compared with
     operatic flourishes I view
as vital breathtaking woo
wing chords nsync with Lenovo "sue

do" flatscreen (NOT A COMPUTER)
yet expanded field of you
alphanumeric characters
     in no way resembles Zulu!
Even though I have next-to-no interest
in borderline celebrities quickstepping
for applause, this is how your/our Saturday
nights trickle by. For others it may be
a back massage, a meal out with jazz music
slinking its way across to our table, but no,
for you/us, television, flatscreen. It’s easier, you say,
to order in, and though it’s not every Saturday
this time I made the call and I tipped
the guy ten percent, said thanks very much,
and that’s how now I’m sitting next
to you on our second-hand IKEA sofa
eating egg fried rice, chewy Kung Po prawns
in a slippery orange sauce, cashew nuts
and chicken from the steaming foil tub,
mouth a muddle of flavours as you
judge a dancer’s dress and give a score
out of ten as even I, surprisingly so,
become entranced by proceedings,
a smile appearing on your face.
Written: April 2022.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time as part of Savannah Brown's escapril challenge. A link to my Facebook writing page and Instagram page can be found on my HP home page.
Butch Decatoria Jun 2021
The scent of strong coffee reminds me of the mess hall on the Cleveland; smells of sausage and powdered eggs.. but its the deep brown of that "ground" whether the beans columbian or Starbucks from africa, early mornings now are remiss at 10am.
Pour a bowl of rice cereal, crackling in the milk ... My breakfast with the price is right on the hd flatscreen... The winners and applause motivate the late sleepers, wake and bake --wothout the chaos of fusion kitchens... I miss the smell of coffee in the early morning, on the pier, the brine of pacific highway beaches... Cali a far away dream...
Vegas smells of sin, **** and swill, sweat and skunky trees, smoke gets in the eyes,
Boys didnt cry... Why i wonder. A distant thunder, coastal storm,
Its the sound heard
From lives torn asunder....
Filthy as the ground, thoughts that stay awake with strong
Coffee
Grounds...
ZACK GRAM May 17
Dear Millinials
We are up next
Dead in jail or military vet
We are all generations
We bring balance
We are active
They to old or a new recruit
Alpha omega
We have the most doubt
They underestimate our nature
We watch music die
We seen bubble to
Flatscreen
We seen 10 cents a text message
We seen birth google facebook
Our parents beat us correct
The last mother ******* left
Real *** ******
The eminem generation
The **** a ***** quick generation
The 5$ gallon milk 4$ gas gen
Gen x got 1 more go
We next fam
200 million people
Divided to 1 million left
Die for our designation
End all Nations
2nd Basic
Millinials
Bowedbranches Jul 2021
Midnight- snack Guardian
Karate chopping fruitflies
Until the oatmeal is
Imbibed
Mmm derived right outta
The HIVE

Might as well be my time
Mine to Wreck
if I'm so inclined to
Walk a mile in/side my slip-ons

Try it
A light so bright
I could make
A wish on
Sonic Boom

Grab a snack
And watch it all
Fall down from your
Flatscreen
Billie Marie Sep 19
an old man
hunched and wrinkled
warped inward with old age worries
sits staring at a large flatscreen
the black rectangle reveals rotating images
of human bodies playing games
and human heads talking at one
there are also random brief vignettes
with people offering objects
one needs to buy to live
the man is also a black screen
but of an entirely different kind

— The End —