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Simon Woodstock Sep 2016
we could do anything
so we became *** addict junkies
college flunkies
working dead end jobs to survive
partying drinking always craving to be high

with sobriety comes anxiety
fear of failing
constantly called a freeloader of society
wasting away fighting to change
buried six feet deep in debts coffin
while starving on minimum wage

unable to find hope in the sky
depression strikes as the stars fall from the night sky
jaded

jaded feeling as the end of it all is nigh
blind masquerading bubble **** praising
mumble rap hailing
feeling trapped like mice about to die

members of a generation of wasted potential are you and I  
fighting to arise building battles cries only to die when the bills arrive
Monkeys,flunkies and corporation junkies
fixing in the alleyways
dripping down the drains
floating through the chemicals that race around their veins.
It's one more night in needleville
one more chill to chase away
one more package to unwrap
and one more slap to bring me down
another cost to needle town
another bag of bobby brown and  you may frown but here's the proof.
addicts jumping off the roof and flying,
trying not to burn and crash
not earning any cash and smoking too much hash or ****, we need a calculator later to tot up those who chose in altered states to alter fate and change,
Oh yes
we'll change the running order of the day and chase the monkey ****** far away so he or she can swing and sing somewhere,
where anyone who cares don't care and no one but the corporation bears the cost and all is lost.

In the translation of men to mice and dipped in deep into the spice of easy living
someone is dealing wild cards
giving out some favours in back yard drinking dens where mice and men sit eating cheese
and crumbling biscuits in those special teas that make you think you're drinking honey
all it costs is more than money
more than hope which coils around, and if you can cope with that,
a cat
matt black and growling starts to howl and drools at schools of playing cards and mice,tasting spice he moves in for the ****
will you wait?
will fate single you alone and don't you wish that you were home in bed and this was all a dream?

No ballet steps or needles dancing through your skin
No pins to ****
no rod upon your back or yoke to drag you to the ground
no swooping sound of crashing monkeys
no flunkies,corporation junkies
just you
through and through and written in the final chapter
a bit of life
a bit of love and laughter
a touch of sun.

While running in the outside lane we have to smash into some pain or crash into the barriers and trash ourselves a bit
it is just the beings that some are, to drive through life but minus car ,imagining we'll get as far away and wish,
I wish on every star,not wanting to waste a chance or two to shine
and could you shine so bright to lighten loads that carry us on in the night
and if you can
then shine on
shine to help your fellow man.
Mark Armstrong Jun 2018
Mother Nature is a nihilist sitting with friends
Around a poker table in the dew drop inn
Playing Nasty Canasta and the loser draws a limb
On a voodoo hangman, the cut of her kin

The high-wire committee say she’s way out of line
So they’ve sent in a crack-team of their most earnest faces
To blow 40 shades of blue, red and lime
From the very corridors our Mother paces

She croaks through the smoke “the first sons a novelty
The rest are just relics of muscles unclenched
Too smart for their own good and that doesn’t bother-me
But the reaper is hungry and hustling for rent”

Lackeys line the lawn, flunkies on fleek
To cover the crack of her chunky cheeks
“To stake lives may well seem immoral and bleak
But to play for cash prize seems horribly cheap
For a Lady of her esteem”

But the crowd spoke, she hung up the wardens trunchbull
Left the skeleton key within reach of the cells
“They’ve aired their opinions and I’ve had a ****-full
Let the hungry ******* impeach themselves
I’m sitting this one out”

“And I’ll  hide, while my dead snake wriggle persists,
On Elba with hairy pits, freckled wrists,
Openly practicing romanticists
And other hapless things that can’t exist
In these times”

Every second Sunday, the search resumes-led
By a dawn-chorus of confetti festooned-plebs
She can dance the devils limbo cos she’ll not be presumed-dead
While we’ve Holy Grail Package Holi-vows to renew-said
The green eyed usher on the door

The newsstand screams “Mother Nature was a fascist
Sher natural selection was the **** manifesto”
And they’re pedalling placebo to the shell-shocked masses
While the editor shoehorns a scotch into his amaretto

Yeah the world has been orphaned and the orphans smothered
But go easy on her sordid soul cos that’s  our mother, after all
Not to be read as any kind of statement but as a batshit bedtime story for overgrown kids
Sam Temple Aug 2014
lasing fallacies
facilitated by flunkies
fictionalizing facts
for freedom
re-done interiors
inferior to craftsmanship of old
offer glimpses into consciousness
of the common folk
squandering birthrights
for a burger richer in trans fat
and bacon flavoring
atop an evangelical spire
I peer into soulless zombies
seeking connection
with my kin
only to have reality slap me back
as wolves are kin to pugs
but they cannot coexist
storm clouds gather
night falls
tears drop
I am alone
bone dry dust bowl
harboring fuchsia scorch marks
landscape scars
fracking remnants
humanity’s blight
my line of sight tracks trite sprites
pixie wings and bath salts
eating dog faces for jesus
or worse
feces
out of hunger
horrified I recoil to a safe spot within
again
with old friends
in the din
I win
Aaron LaLux Sep 2019
Lost,
amongst the chaos, caught outside with a long way to go,
calm,
within the center, inside everything comes 360° full circle,

call it a circle but it’s more of a spiral,
careful don’t want to hurt you when I go ******,
but the truth is the first rule of nature is survival,
chaos outside crack pipes alight demoralized fools act suicidal,

see healing can help but it can also hurt you,
especially if you forget your virtues,

trust me you must be occasionally criticized passionately,
for acting out irrationally if not you’re not living your truth,
too caught up in your own closed captions to actually,
see passed the rose glasses that skews your worldview,

out past curfew brazenly making your way merrily,
down that yellow brick road until you stub your toe I told you,
healing can hurt you if you forget your virtues,
still you choose to refuse the truth shown in your own show,

okay your choice to choose now without further ado, the news,

this just in, we’re all caught in whirlpools,
drains all clogged with heirlooms,
energy vampires virgule our virtues,
as slashed wrist fill bathtubs, pills lay on pillows in bedrooms,

these cities are pretty venues for gritty citizen cesspools,
sporadic & magic with hearts as dark as our issues,
no Jim Henson only thuggish muppets wretched henchmen,
puzzled puppets & sketchy Skeksis from The Dark Crystal,

it’s a bizarre & awkward Little Shop of Horrors,
a smorgasbord of unordered  hors d’oeuvres served cold,
& you’re confused of course because you didn’t order more,
plus it smells horrible oh well it’s only the first course,

anyways what’s on the menu today,
in this Showroom AKA Stolen Souls Salesroom’s display,
****** Nephews that resist rescue,
plus a side of drunken Lethargic Legume pate,

in other words intoxicated obnoxious Obscene Family Beans,
that are nostalgic for forgotten things that’ve long gone away,

& what have you on menu #2,
Locobutt Coconuts, crazy nuts Loony Tunes that lack values,
in other words hardheaded tropical crazy assed loons,
animated guys that apply topical gravy acid to cashews,
excuse me, did I offend you is that why you gave your opinion,
well opinions are like ******* & I’m sorry but I didn’t ask you,

I’ll harass you, if I want to, & harass her *** too,
I’m lampooned, lampin’ on a lagoon in a pontoon,
going gorillas, with my baboons in the full moon,
hope to not get harpooned too soon high as a kite at high noon,

call me Sun, or Sultan,
everyone is overdone, it’s insultin’,
brainwashed, & super spun,
the buzzer buzzed, the ***** laundry’s done,

hang it out to dry in the breeze,
air it out the window for everyone to see,
then look up at the sky, & tell me what you see,
one life at a time out here in San Franpsy, thunder & lightning,

here in San Franpsy, the sky, has a reddish haze,
smoke from Ukraine, magic mushrooms & acid rain,

we have all types of weather here in San Franpsycho,
slash your wrists just to check your vitals,

San Franpsycho, ******, psy-trance,
that Psy guy, with his Gangnam dance, dance monkey dance, strung out junkies, self made flunkies,
& 3rd rate rejects with a 2nd chance,

computer programmers,
digital techno gods,
programming the New World Order,
Zuckerberg & Steve Jobs,
& yeah the equation is way off,
but somehow we’ll even the odds,

even when Silk Road is taken down,
at the public library by out of town Federal Agents,
the caterpillars still make silk from mother’s milk,
still there are celebrations without any occasions,

from Hiroshima to Fukushima,
laughter from the hyphy hellish hyenas,
belly of the Beast ****tting out diarrhea,
hey anyone have any memories for my ongoing amnesia,
or maybe some anesthesia for this creative creature,
jeez I can barely breath I need to leave but,
I’m disorientated deliriously stumbling around this arena,
where I was just served a subpoena to answer to Jesus,
but I’m not ready to leave just yet, enjoying the scenery bruh,
we’re all portraits portrayed in The Great Life Galleria,

& I’m enjoying the show laughing madly like the hellish hyenas,
tip toeing on eggshells a tipsy bombed out bombshell ballerina,
as if it’s all good ‘cause I haven’t seen a real life Hiroshima,
washing down a divine diva’s cleavage,
with medical marijuana margaritas,
shouting out “Eureka”, struck gold & made a deal with Jesus,

Christ, or Jackson,
like Mike, or Michael,
The mirrored man is the boogieman, nothing’s normal,
****, it all goes down in San Franpsycho,

thee end, is coming soon, do what you have to for survival…

They say, thee end’s coming soon,
thought there was more to say,
really though,
how much more can we say?

Lost,
amongst the chaos caught outside with a long way to go,
calm,
within the center inside everything comes 360° full circle...

from THHT3: Dark Lights | Bright Shadows
available worldwide: 9/9/19
Thoughts?
When you drink your Veuve Clicqout and eat your honey roasted ham.remember for a moment,
Barry Trent.
who sets his table in a tent on Hackney marsh,
he bends over,under harsh light,most nights
eating bread and jam.

Ham would be a luxury he don't see too much of those,
wearing clothes a size too small or sometimes just to big to fit,
but you don't really give a monkey's for the flunkies who live hand to mouth and living South as rich folk do
I bet you think your **** don't stink,
think on
one day we'll all be gone
and equalised.
In someone else's eyes you'll be the Barry Trent,bent and ghostly,
mostly.

Swings and snakes
it only takes one rung to fall,did someone ring the bell for hell,is it supper time?
A half filled bottle of Geneva gin
say,
Buddy can you spare a lime.
Marshal Gebbie Sep 2014
Dangerous this penchant in your ego trip to power
Exacerbated by your volume, increasing by the hour.
So amplified by flunkies who pander to the worth
Of you, my friend, who incubate self value with your girth.
So dangerous this swollen head, this egocentric will
Rampaging through opinions here, ignoring all blood spilt.
Crushing rings of daisies and barging without thought,
Obliterating opposition’s tender preference sought.
Disregard opinions blatantly, you ignore advice from they,
Who endeavour to make right the wrongs engendered in the fray.

So dangerous this charging bull, calamitous in it’s wrath
To each and every innocent who ventures in the path.
So dangerous this selfishness which permeates your all
Because… inevitably your collapse shall result in my downfall.

M.
4 September 2014
Torin May 2016
Come your artist
Come your junkies
                And your flunkies
Come your revolutionaries
Come your student
                 And your teacher

Come your beat poets
And join along
Write your words
And sing your songs

Come your Kerouac
Come your Creely
                  And your Burroughs
Come your Ginsberg
Come your greatest minds
                   And become the generation

Come your beat poets
To Black Mountain College
Write your words
And share your knowledge

Come your genius
Come your heart
                   And your heartbeats rhythm
Come your soul
Come your lungs
                   And your air that you breathe

Come your spirit
To Black Mountain College
Black Mountain is a town outside of Asheville, North Carolina, where many of the greatest beat poets went. A beautiful little town full of art. The college has closed, but the story remains

Look up Black Mountain Review number seven for a little glimpse of the magic.
They built us towns,
a place for cannibals and clowns,
for chuggers,muggers and tree huggers,
junkies,flunkies and we became
performing monkeys.

Along the red brick,
between the Kellogs cornflakes,
on council house estates, where dreams are
killed at birth and the milk of humankind is soured and hard to find,
the thick end,dog end,dead end day begins,
spliff smoke curls into malevolence and grins,  the
sugar brown goes down a treat as bags are sought and
bought behind the houses on dirt street.

Wake each day to find another way to waste it all
the clock invents a time and we in time will fall,have fell,
have scrambled up and found it was much better down below and
so we go back down,spliffs and brown below the scratchings
of the town above.

What I love the most is when the Mayor of this shitville hosts a party for some fat slob,who comes from down along some south coast town,who hasn't got a clue as to who we are,
and he rattles on and on until I think someone should drop a bomb on him.
Chances here are very slim
the people thin
hope is thinner still.
I wonder if and when or will it change and could it be much worse,I wonder which witch placed a curse on us and why.

When we die from overdose, being underdone and done out of any hint of fun,the sun will still shine in the sky
the estate continuing to grate upon the nerves
the monkeys still performing getting ****** upon the morning,laughing 'til there is no more,
the empty box of Kellogs by
the open door.
Torin Dec 2015
A lonely town full of losers
Cheaters, takers, and abusers
Junkies, flunkies, and the boozers
A lonely town where people are going nowhere

A lonely town down in the valley
Where the people and the roads are crumbling
The people and the buildings are vacant
A lonely town
Yenson Jun 2022
The fetch an carry
are busy
fetching and carrying
Tanka as a Poem

I have been outside
Nature is beautiful they say
It was rather cold
The sun, one euro polished
Clouds are the suns' flunkies

Inside looking out
Nature looks like fantasy land
You can't lure me out
The wilderness is insecure
And sometimes the wind blows hard

I'm civilised man
Outdoor is discovery channel
Sharks and dark water
Nature needs a glass divider
Enjoying our inimitableness
Yenson Apr 2021
the ragged village antimacassars laced up
in sodden republican voile
ropey and holey in mind-set threadbare strings
always flattened and laid low as their wont

they create their drama of perceptions in insipid flair
as lacy as roundheads and porous as cuckoo's nests
the petticoat warriors in holes denoting patchy visions
skimming crumbs from table tops
to feed the flimsy and feeble hold of ropey binds

bargain bucket bunch in spread reflecting dense wares
and cracked pottery heads
who dines at the table of fetchers and flunkies
but fetchers and flunkies carrying blunderbusses
firing hot air
if you keep on extracting ***** out of them, they'll just get madder but I suspect that's the intention, they are already mad anyway  so its good if they get madder, it helps them feel more comfortable.
No! they donot behead people at the Tower anymore, they just spend every waking moment trying to stop you from getting laid, That's the greatest punishment known to them. hahaha.....its not funny, some commit suicide because of this, they say its the only thing that makes them feel alive!
Kelly McManus Oct 2021
Never lose your faith
to the wickedness of state
nor corporate flunkies

                 Kelly McManus
Yenson Apr 2021
Prince or whatever
do you not know why we are
called the Barbarians of Europe

we are born thieves
thugs rascals, hooligans, bullies
and best deceivers only second to satan

we've been all over the world
if its not nailed down we steal it
we don't do conscience, we don't do guilt

we're smarter, more devious
than all you foreign lots and we make
stooges of your own shades and hues as we like

before you call us greedy
we'll call you greedy, say we're crazy, we'll say
you're mad and paranoid, see, we steal the match on you

did we not steal millions
of your people and used them like animals
did we not pillage and plunder all your resources

and you small man
dare to stand up to us, what are you on
who do you think you are, Hamlet. Prince of Denmark
This is SATIRE
Someone tell him that ******* out of contemptible witless mobs just makes them madder. I disagree, this inspires the mobs to poetry, I am actually making them more culturally aware, look at how many I have turned to poets, ok, its ******* poetry but its a start. hahaha...I wonder if its a crime to laugh so much on your own.
Life is ****** up
The more you want to get out from
Underneath the pile of **** you're in
The more people try to keep you there
They don't have you're best interest at heart
They can care less what you're trying to do
With your life.
They think it's a game, whatever it is
They keep their hounds at Bay, ready to attack
Their flunkies are all about, ******* ****
They must get paid a lot to keep others down
In the pile of **** they themselves should be in
Maybe they are the pile of ****
Things to ponder about
Steve Matthews Apr 2022
One of the flunkies
at the journal/review
will glance at your submission
just to say he did,
reflexively hit the REJECT key,

Direct your 3 or, worse, 5 dollar
bribe into the coffers
and think to himself SUCKER.
The burning
Let Rome burn, so spake Nero or one of his flunkies
Towns and cities are burning every day in the Middle East
Flames taste not of roasted chestnuts in the Alley
Of peace but the stench of hatred fills the air.
This will continue till the last drop of oil, better still
Until we don't need petrol for our cars any more.
In the middle of this, we have Israel armed to the teeth
Yet fearful, it is as it knows the future is lost.
I wonder why so many high ranking officers in the USA have  
German surnames, one thinks it is a tradition.
In new wars to come it will be about water- resources.
Look out Scandinavia, so you don't end up like Libya.
the weight  of the world came crashing down
thoughts of suicide and I'm running wild
one can ****** in a dream with an evil scream
all your weight falls on me it brings me down
eyes, hands & feet

Shadows block the surface of the moon
as you hide away in your lagoon
you contructed pyramids to honor the dead
what is going on inside are head
lazy diamond studded  flunkies

yet the equestrian horse sits idol on the very edge of the room
shallow promises will seal your tomb
in my lifetime it was a will for power
perhaps I'll have to take a cold shower
filter through the noise with a pinch of gravity
somehow we take things in stride or let it be

life is like a roller coaster with all it's twist and turns
one soul soars while the other will soon burn
maybe its in ****** or desires and dreams
things caught up in the means
yet we have come this close not to turn back now
we vacation in Florida then return to the plough
there's a dozen of thoughts in my head
living in the land of the walking dead
can't even think to dismiss this earthly bliss with a time well spent in thought
having a dozen of pots in your sink
we torture ourselves from deep inside
many want to run away and hide
then to stay in the game the thought to light the flame
why is everybody insane ?
KV Srikanth Jun 2021
Rejected because of prejudices
Landed in Hongkong in search of opportunities
Unicorn Chan had his CV distributed
Finally landed the role he desired

Raymond Chow just parted
With the legendary Shaw Brothers
Started his own company
In Golden Harvest

Bruce and the Shaw Brothers
Regarding payment at loggerheads
Golden harvest invested
In Bruce Lee's talent and Skill

2 film deal signed
$ 15000 the amount
Shoe string budget
Filming in Bangkok targeted

Starred in The Big Boss
Ice factory worker
Investigating drugs and ******
Stunts like never seen before
Ready for release by October
Made on a budget
One hundred thousand dollars
Was an instant hit at the box office success
50 Million at the global box office
500 times the cost recovered

Fist of Fury
Added more glory
To Bruce lee
Same team reteamed
Used Nunchaku for the first time
Holding audience spellbound
Story of revenge set in Shanghai
Japanese colonization the backdrop
Budget of one hundred thousand dollars
Boxoffice receipts over 100 million dollars
1000 times the  investment
Bruce became his own competition

The Way of the Dragon
Showcased his complete talent
Apart from starring in the film
He also wrote produced choreographed and produced the film
Living in Rome Italy
Threatened constantly
To leave the property
By the mob boss and his flunkies
They appeal to their uncle directly
Bruce Lee arrives in Rome
And gets the job done
Climatic Battle with Chuck Norris
Filmed at the Colosseum lasting 9 minutes
The greatest fight sequence
The whole world will reminiscence
Made on a budget of  130000 dollars it grossed 130 million dollars
1000 times the investment
Global Superstardom attained


Enter the Dragon
First Hollywood production
Warner Brothers distribution
Poetic justice done his prediction
Sent to an island fortress suspected of corruption
Under the guise of a Martial arts tournament
Goes there to do an investigation
Gets the job done with complete anhilation
Revenges death of sister
Befriends John Saxons character Roper
Action blitzkrieg
Never before seen
Scene after scene
Making the audience scream
Hall of mirrors ******
Till today packs the impact
Greatest Martial arts movie of all time starring
The greatest Fighter of all time
850000 dollar budget
Grossing 350 million
Returning 400 times the investment

Game of Death shot the climatic battles
Every floor of a building
A different opponent waiting
Each using g a different style
Against Bruce Lee, 's no style
Greatest action scenes ever filmed
Audience still surprised inspite of watching his earlier films
Different versions available
Wiyh an alternate title
Grossed 43 million when it came out
The yellow jump suit he wore
Mimicked in films to the core
Final film to get a release
Stardom reached beyond belief
Dr. Beter: organic robotoids contain ultra-sonic cerebral holograms
These replications aren't clones as they don't possess brain engrams
Our dimensional quasi-reality demands androidal & robotic shams
are lubed to preclude jumps, squeals, fits, jolts, high spikes & jams
so as to dissipate external heat that'd be of a degree to roast lambs,
donkey-sized ponies, Senator Hugh Scott's flunkies & Easter hams,
ewes, Secretary James Forrestal's corpse and tubally-sterilized rams
to be retailed by the Walton/Walmart Chinese club known as Sam's
TheConcretePoet Nov 2019
people
  for one
day
   "act".

they
    "try"
to say
  all of
the
  right - expected
things

      and...

   the very
next day
    "reality"
settles
  back in
and they
  go back
to being
   who they
really are... .. .

   for good
      or
    bad.

thankful?

i am
   thankful
for
      keen
        intuition.

               i
     understand
            that

most-
  have no
    motives.

they're
   just
b-list
   actors....
  
  in

     a
  
world

        scattered
.
....    and

    filled

with

      hollyweird

         flunkies.

              i say

               be
          yourself.

   leave the

         imposter

    at
.
          .. home.

      halloween
      
was in

     october.

   i bring

      my

bipolar self

     everywhere

         with me,

   even if

....   i have to

    drag him.

     for
    good
       or
      bad.
Charlatan Charles Darwin's mutational speculations made Humans far weaker, far less robust, far less equipped to cope with weather extremes, cholera (from a simple bacterium that corrupts fetid water & spoiled food), pertussis, pox & a plethora of maladies that our alleged simian kin are oblivious to. Darwin's flunkies also NEVER address the 4,000 genetical disorders unique to the inferior version of Man imprisoned on Earth. Darwin's lick-spittles NEVER wax liberally about mineral evolution or stellar evolution. Chucky Cheese Darwin's ***-wipes NEVER explain why most simians are scurvy-resistant as they produce vitamin C, yet superior Humans (who lack the ability to produce C) suffer & die from clinical & sub-clinical scurvy by the millions. Evolutionists loose control of their weak, swollen, compromised, edematous, inflamed urinary bladders at the broaching of polystrate. It's time to consign to pasture Darwinian virtual science and return to facts. A fact is a fact only when it can be mathematically verified. /// Horrific! Abortion clinics use restaurant-grade garbage disposals.
Yenson Jan 2022
So the people-stealers say
we will make you a buck
and have you
make a rod for your own back
so I showed some my rod
alas, they all got crazed and jealous
that beast is banned
erase him and his name and wipe him out
and pray ask
the Serjeant-at-arms if the flunkies and orderlies
are missing any mahogany truncheon
and do at once
tell all the ladies of this fair and tender isles
they will suffer the pain of death by hot rod insertion
if they ever open their front doors or backdoors
for a banned savage beast is on the loose
and we don't have adequate weapons
call the Red-coats and inform they come with plenty recruits
what do you mean they do not possess adequate weapons as well
Do you think he is tickling our catastrophe and mocking us again. Of course not, this is a poem about fish and chips, kebabs and stonking big savaloys
Tanka as Poem

I have been outside
Nature is beautiful they say
It was rather cold
The sun a polished one euro
Clouds are the sun’s flunkies

Inside looking out
Nature looks fantasyland
You can’t lure me out
The wilderness is insecure
And sometimes the wind blows hard.

I’m civilized man
Outdoor is discovery channel
Sharks and dark water
Nature needs a glass divider
Enjoying our inimitableness
draw back from thee a simple melody
to cumulate the rage of the ring
shower me with gifts forget to sniff lay hold of it
freshness in a bottle type sequence,
planted by the river edge
call me late for bed

to climb the rivers edge
planted through a cause for sure
lazy buttons studded flunkies
treasure the hound of excellency
come to take a part of me

we learn to lean on me
through the tender leaves
a good cause to grieve
in the shallow peak
Yenson Feb 2022
Did I nail rabid tongues in delusions
or
scatter vacuous minds in vapid concentrate
alas
where forth the rings of dumb bells tarrying
who's
lance the carbuncles on scarlet's flunkies
and
quietened the flow of effluents from the afflicted
why
leave constipated peasantries without due release
when
full of turds and turmoil they will self combust in pain
Charlatan Charles Darwin's mutational speculations made Humans far weaker, far less robust, far less equipped to cope with weather extremes, cholera (from a simple bacterium that corrupts fetid water & spoiled food), pertussis, pox & a plethora of maladies that our alleged simian kin are oblivious to. Darwin's flunkies also NEVER address the 4,000 genetical disorders unique to the inferior version of Man imprisoned on Earth. Darwin's lickspittles NEVER wax liberally about mineral evolution or stellar evolution. Chucky Cheese Darwin's ***-wipes NEVER explain why most simians are scurvy-resistant as they produce vitamin C, yet superior Humans (who lack the ability to produce C) suffer & die from clinical & sub-clinical scurvy by the millions. Evolutionists loose control of their weak, swollen, compromised, edematous, inflamed urinary bladders at the broaching of polystrate. It's time to consign to pasture Darwinian virtual science and return to facts. A fact is a fact only when it can be mathematically verified.
Yenson Nov 2020
palace flunkies on roll calls
doormen and fetchers of spittle pots
valets sweeping up dusty words to share
down swept snowflakes without forms or essence
I trigger to action for limpid white down feathers needs fluffing
soft brains in scullery needs attention to earn a kings shilling for nowt
write me a rhyme without reason for I am a Duke to your page
a perfumed knight of the realm to your ***** scallywags
a learned scholar to your bevvy of pea-brains
hold your furry tongues or lick my boots
give the finger to your assed fathers
your gin births made in alleys
steal the spittle pots to use
you need it more for
the bile of your
stations in
life
satire
Annie Oct 2022
I remember when I first learned what a guy was.
(Verb: to mock your descriptions of ******* and ***)
“Will you have it when you’re older?”
“Probably.”
“EWWW”
“I think you’re going to want it more than me a few years from now”
your flunkies mock me most of all for that last response.
(Verb: to redefine humiliations as appreciation)
I’m told they secretly want attention.
Why don’t they say these things to male friends who want attention?

I remember when I first learned what gay was,
a battery with equally polarized ends.
First it means happy,
and Ms. Coyne looks bewildered when I exclaim how gay I am that day.
Then it means unnatural,
opposite the image of the perfect prince and princess
intrusive with its inherent sensuality.
Would anyone seek to break the tension between men and women,
fenced by mockery?
Women are safer.

I remember when I first learned what you were,
(Noun: shame)
sitting there with your long hair, perfect skin, ethereal face
I try to glimpse you in the bathroom as you change
You tolerate my cuddles and appreciation.
I want reciprocity more than anything.

I remember when I first learned what a spark was
kissing my best friend for… practice?
that’s too cliche. What was it?
Comfort, I suppose. Not feeling left out. Having a good first memory, tainting it positively forever.
It’s cute and comfortable. A revelation, like the first time I hugged a friend (new capacities for love!) I wish I could kiss all my friends to express that trusting affection, without the inherent romance. Or maybe with a bit of it, plausibly deniable.
But there’s a hint of sparkiness
behind my lips, down in my chest
(Adjective: willing)
I never really felt it again,
though that first kiss with Alex was a close replica.

My forehead against yours, your breath on my lips
it was death enough to have you touch my hand
(I remember learning what gay was)
It seems like it’d spark to kiss you
and if it didn’t, well, I’d still learn something.
Pretty freeform

— The End —