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Keith J Collard Dec 2012
I still have flashbacks, horrifying and spectral: of conference meetings, projectors and efficiency meetings...corporate metrics, acronymic value cards that read like a Masonic Temple's pledge.. ...honesty, commitment, sacrifice, the dutiful worship of mercury and saltpeter; also customer satisfaction.
           Those flashbacks frequent my mind alot--especially when I am ramming my co-workers into the trash compactor with the blades of the fork truck. They say " ooooh" and " ahhhhh" as if they are getting a massage. They dull my blades with their dull heads.
          I have to ram them with the blades of the fork-trucks, or they will scramble out. They still say things like, " make sure that has a tag,".....and " wear your safety goggles," making chills run down my spine. I haven't put all the workers from the " Do-Wee depot" in the compactor only corporate cadavers and not zombies.
          But I have to forewarn, the zombies are not a threat, it is a few cadavers and the "consumers" that pose a threat to me and what I have built. The zombies are producers, even only if it is moans and putrefaction, but they are good sports, and my only friends.
         Some co-workers, who I was friends with before, I have spared from the compactor--owing mostly to that the part of their brain that was corporate, either fell out on the floor, or was gnawed on by a fellow zombie rendering them good sports and not cadavers.
        I use the building material section to chain them to their previous aisles. Jose, was my best friend, he was shaped like a slug, with a huge lower lip, and slicked back greasy hair, he always cheered me up, how busy it was and how slow he remained. Him and I worked together in the ' outside-lawn-and-garden' section. Even his zombie self has kept his lisp.
          I chain him to the outside lawn and garden section, where he likes to water the flowers. He lunges at me sometimes, but the chain is thick, and Jose is still a cool zombie.
Angry Joe is out there too. He is chained to the 'reach' truck. He is always mumbling about overtime.....or " Im not staying late."
         I have disabled the riding engine, so he just stands on it and runs the fork blades all the way up then all the way down, beeping the horn the whole while. He is the only one I kept, that has some vestige of corporacy in his brain, for the reason that he watches the back gate. The consumers are constantly probing this outside metal fence gate, and Joe has eaten all of them. Don't get me wrong, Joe can be a good sport, when he is not drooling about 'overtime' or ' I havn't took a lunch yet.' He can be quite funny.
          He banters with Ryan from inside 'lawn-and-garden' all the time. Ryan is alot younger, alittle younger than me. He has a mullet(what I call a mullet and he say's a hockey cut) and verily is--before he become a zombie-- the laziest person ever, and now that he is a zombie, well let's just say, I don't have to chain him anywhere, I know where to find him.....at the back gate smoking a ciqerette backwards with his mullet on fire or in the break room. He had the most squeeky voice when he was a human, but now odd fully enough, he sounds like Tom Jones.
         " You ate my cosumer Ryan," drools Angry Joe, " No I didn't Joe, you ate your own consumer," Ryan rejoins in his acapella voice ( I like hearing Ryan's deep zombie voice).
There are others, in the various departments of the Do-Wee Store, but this journal is to relate the first most pressing concern, two cadavers have escaped the compactor.
             The store manager Joyce and her minion(the assistant manager Damien) have escaped. They were ******* humans, and remained so in corporate cadaver form. They hide from me, as I plow through the aisles with the inside forklift. I have used wire from the fencing aisle to reinforce my forklifts. Sometimes a cadaver co-worker will jump out with a price gun, drooling " where is your spootterrrr...."( a safety regulation in the store).....I run them over with great gladness, but then wishing I heeded their advice of safety glasses."Splat."
            I have my theories, on how everyone turned to zombies. It started with over-ocurring routine, which my a.d.d could have been impervious to. But I couldn't have been the only one in the store with a.d.d? But that seems the case. The first day when I showed up to ' outside-lawn-and-garden' it took me six hours before I noticed everyone was zombies. I didn't notice they were zombies until I noticed them in good spirits.
               But the first day of the zombies, was concurrent with the rise of the consumers--ever more dangerous, greedy, and audacious are the consumers. They consume everything in their path, they consume good conversation, good manners, and replace with their mark, which is this....your life with the current moment is to be sacrificed to get them what they need to continue resuming their lives. They do not enjoy shopping, but enjoy holding you in place, consuming you and your values into their value, which has no value at all, since their mind has consigned the present moment that has you and not them, to a number that always has too much value, and they will bring you and it down while you are subject to time and they are not.  
             They turned my friends into prisoners of arbitrary time; and like putting a rabbit in a dank dark basement, with plenty of food and treats and space, it will slowly get diarrhea and die.  Everyday I marked the sunrise, and I would always pay thanks to it, no matter if I was on break or not.  The nine hour day could not ruin me, but my friends being ruined, that started to ruin me.
                       And that is what I believed started all this, nature has no room for two kingdoms of Consumers. So the producers(zombies) were created from the routine of being divested of life, and from nothing they came to produce: producing gases, vile ****** smiles, human  cannibalism, hearty conversation, practical jokes, moaning questions to the infinite sky.... they were created human again, given value, and most of all, I have my friends back, and they are happy again. But, the corporate cadavers that escaped the compactor , put my creation in risk, they look to let in the consumers again, they are up to something...
             But presently with the corporate cadavers gone, and the consumers held at bay, I have my Depot of Eden, I can grow anything, make anything, and soon will be able to ferment everything, especially fuel.   Now monday morning conferences that threaten you to pick it up because there are alot of people out there that want your job( iterated by the frizzy headed gangly Joyce) are replaced with 'zombie dance parties'.  
            " Zombies, what is the first rule of zombie dance party," they reply to me, " dohmp talk bout damp party," then we make a music video.  I let loose a couple of cat's in the break room, and presto, an agile cat make's flesh eating zombies look like Micheal Jackson.  Even I get busy with them, I feel so comfortable with them; dancing to Juvenile "back that *** up,".the best dancer gets to eat the cat...sure beat's listening Joyce's depressing morning pep talks about quotas while I am watching a bird outside the front glass trying to eat a dragonfly, " Keith you paying attention."  I just want to say, " No I am not you frizzy headed gangly walking skeleton key(she is skinnier than the gang of keys jingling on her belt)."    I will find her and put a roofing nail in her temple and her plans.
                The sound of zombies walking in here is music to my ears, like gypsys walking barefoot on a strawberry patch.  I don't know what that has to do with anything, but I like it, and don't care who knows.

            I fortified the outside of the store with everything within the store. I grew a garden, with all the fertilizers, and acids and alkilines of outside garden. I also use the garden chemicals to sprinkle on the brains of my co-worker zombies to change their acidity(almost like a hyrdrangea shrub). The purpose to get them somewhat coherent to play poker and darts in the breakroom. I figured out how to make explosives, with the nitrogen fertilizer and pool cleaning acid, well actually HeyZues did, he always eats both, and one day he moaned really loud  " BLOOOONDEEE " ( his nickname for me from The Good The Bad And The Ugly) and  gestured his expanding stomach, he blew up and gave me my first wound, he destroyed my dart board.   I took his head and posted it on the back loading dock, I know there are consumers trying to infiltrate when he sounds off with " BLOOONDEEEE..."  resounding through the whole store (almost like when he was a human).   I created another dartboard, I can create anything here, sometimes I think, that feeling is what........
                But the point of this journal is the two who escaped the trash compactor, Joyce and Damien. They haunted me before and haunt me still. When I leave to venture outside for gasoline for the generators(the only thing I need, not for long hopefully) they run amok. I will see new ' sale signs' in zombie penmanship, and I can see that they have hidden co-workers to have cadaver meetings, where they talk about ' customer satisfaction.'  I can sometimes hear keys jangle, it has to be Joyce, for the sound is to the cadence of her John Wayne walk, like she has been on horseback her whole life.
            Outside is very dangerous. There are many consumers out there.
                 I was outisde in the parking lot, where consumers still wallow around when a consumer asked "which product is better." I had to drop a cinder block pallet on him with the forklift; they are more adacious then my zombie co-workers. Even after a pallet of concrete is forklifted on them, they wave fliers with sale advertisments from underneath.
            Well, this particular trip, I returned inside and was startled by the loudspeaker, it was Damien's voice, the same as before, paging the hardware department. I jumped on the fast slim forklift to hunt for him. There are phone terminals everywhere, and he could be in the upper level offices. I saw Joyce's shape through the window once.
          They are up to something.
Everytime I ventured outside, the store became altered. I even saw a consumer waiting in line with the cashier machine now on. I sent the consumer to Angry Joe, who was due for a lunch break.
          There is a gap in my wire somewhere, I know it.
            I was at the gas station, getting propane and gas, when a consumer was scowling " where is the gas attendant, is everyone stupid or what?" while he was trying to figure out how to pump gas. I disabled the safety pumps, they do not shut off, and do not coincide with numbers, you hold the handle it pumps out as much as you need.
              He was pacing around like a little kid denied recess and suffering from sounds of frolic and kickball--dragging his feet due to the fact he had to pump his own gas, I heard a scraping metallic clicking noise. My eyes were caught by a bright glare on his shoe tread, I gripped my nail gun..... then he dropped the hose and walked back to his car with gasoline gushing as his wake. I saw what it was on his tread, I had no time to flee....it was a push button grill ignitor with the orange tint of a " Do-Wee" label on it......" ****."
              The last thing I registered was the consumer saying " ahhh don't touch me," apparently talking to flames. I woke up in a ditch, the big fork truck and my gas station destroyed.
I limped back to the " Do-Wee" store, and utter horror greeted my singed and surprised eyebrows.
              " Grand Re-Opening, 50% off everything." I squeezed the trigger of the nail gun, the nail harmlessly echoed off the parking pavement at which it was aimed. "They set me up at the gas station. "
               They had to do better than that to separate me from my zombies.

             I entered through the store in a nun-plussed state. I woke out of my unbelieving stupor with the sound of Jose's voice. " Welcome to Doooooo-Weeee....can I eat your...."
            "Jose it's me, who chained you to the entrance?"
         " Dammian, Keeeeeth, they are waiiiting....here's a newsletter...." --he smacked me across the face with the newsletter.
        " I don't want that ****.....' as I clutched the newspaper the loudspeaker went off in Dammians annoyingly over-polite and late-night-voice.
       " Attention shoooppers. all prices are feeeefty percent off, ask our associate Keeeeeth for a 80% discount, he is the skinny deleeecious looking kid with spicy skin, and a boston red sox hat on."
Hundreds of consumers pivoted their heads to my direction. " Hey, that kid has a Boston Yankees hat on."
         " Run Keeeth," zombie-lisped Jose.
           Fifty million imbecilic questions assailed me at once......" can I return this sprinkler for a jacuzzi.....can I get 120% off.....can you come to my house and fix my television for free"-- it was unabashed audacity, survial of the most annoying and repetitious; and the corporate cadavers have let this consuming flood in on me and my poor zombies.
           I needed to find my steed, my inside forklift. It was not where I left it near the entrance.            
        Surely they have sabotaged it. " the riding mowers," the thought uplifted my fading resolve. I darted past wallowing consumers before they could get my scent. I heard a consumer, " you obviously don't know what Im talking about," talking to zombie George, who was munching roofing nails.
         The consumer grabbed me, and said "here he is, this is Keith, he is wearing a Phoenix red sox cap"--panic bit into my brain, this consumers grip was implaccable. The grip that holds the steering wheel tightly driving nowhere fast, with anything in that interstice of commuting, not worthy of manners and the least of which being a friendly wave to 'go ahead.'
           They formed a wall of uttering stupidity, escape was cut off. They scratched at me, hissed, tore at my flesh and screamed demonistically in my ears. I caved and and called the hoard m'am and sir, they choked me, and loosened their grip only so I could tell them " Im sorry, sorry for your inconvenience, take my life and personality as tribute, take my imagination rendered prostrate by these sceptic corporate words that this mouth emits, betraying my personal form, the human element to this lifeless purposeless machine....destroy me, for finding the infinity between letters of corporate law and none between nature's laws......"
        I was almost unconscious, giving a speech to imagined hooded phantoms......" destroy me, for valuing friendship and imagination, and seeing infinity, in the shadow of a letter, eternity in the numeral of a number, and for defying the order to see things as others do....."...." destroy me, for seeing that people are unhappy and trying to uplift people for the sake of seeing them smile....destroy me, destroy my smirk, and add a lifeless smile to my corpse."
              I heard a horn, the riding floor mopper/buffer, it was Ryan, he commandeered the machine with precision-like drunkenness. He knocked down the consumers like twenty pin bowling. " What's up ***** cat," he possibly said, and I climbed to my feet.
         I walked to the riding mowers, and turned the key on the floor model. I sped the main aisle, with caresses of consumers that would be deep clawings at a slower speed. I dodged stupid question, and swerved from unabashed frugality. I turned up the tool aisle, grabbed a battery nail gun.
              " It says batteries are included, but are they included?" I answered with a 12 gauge nail, and resumed my course to the upper offices, that for too long looked down on me and my friends. I climbed the stairs and entered. The office was abuzz in corporate banalities. " Hello, this is Damian how may I help you.....oh helloooooo keeeeeth, one minute.......sir hold one second thaaaanx."
                I aimed the nail gun muzzle at his ugly overly polite mug." I finally found you, I will get the store back in shape Damian...."
          He cut me off, " no yoou woonn't, they are pouring in, we will meet our quota for the year...."
        " Me and my friends
Ston Poet Jan 2016
Young Ston..Oh..
I glow,Oh, I won't stop No..Oh..I'm on go..Oh..(Ohh3)..Yeah, ** I glow..(Oh5)..I...glow..(Ohh6)..I won't stop Noo...(Ohh4)..I'm on go..(Ohh4)..I won't stop Noo..(Ohh4)..I'm on go..(Ohh4)..I glow..(Ohh4)..Uhh,..I glow...(I won't stop2)..(Noo4)..Oh.., I'm on (go7)..Yeah I'm focused, Yeah I be glowing..man I'm on go, Yeah, I glow *****..(I'm on go3)..(Oh2)..(go8)..Yeah ***** I (glow3)..(Ohh3)...I won't stop..(no7)..I'm too (close3)..I'm on (go3)..I (glow3)..Oh, I won't drop the ball,..(no4)..Im too focused..(Oh4)..I'm too close to succeding , so I'm on (go3)..(Ohh4)..(I'm on go3)..(go5)..Yeah **.., I glow..(Oh9)..
/I won't stop glowing.. (No
2)/2
I'm on..(go
6)..(Oh6)..for sure Ayo..

I gotta get my safe filled up dude, straight cake nothing but cash on me..Yeah **, **** the Federal Banks dawg, I been trappin so I got that ***** money, Imma throw some to mom dukes & let her open up her own bakery, so we can clean Dat ****,  yeah man.. My whole family know what's really real, Yeah they stick to  the g code, Yeah they already know the deal man..
My bloodline is filled  with real gangsters *****, that always kept it true & trill, Yeah..so I would never tell, death before dishonor, Yeah..so you don't wanna ever betray me man or your familia will be missing ya, I'm just letting y'all fuccers know from the beginning, Yeah..I look like I'm weak & I'm a geek but I'll have you swimming wit the fishes, Yeah mob ****, Yeah *****, I'm plug in wit the Italians, so like Loaf said ***** ****** you don't wanna..(try me Yeah
2)..then its (bye2)..homie for real, ***** *** ****** this (the statement3)..Aye Man

I usta eat ramen noodles all day everyday man Yeah even for breakfast, but now I'm renting the whole Ruth Chris out in Buckhead for my ****** Disciples, Yeah all of my OFTR Souljas..
wit me everyday & everyday now we getting paid too man, & baked too..(Yeah2)..We making statements..Aye, Yeah Fo sho..

I'm on go..(go
6)..
Yeah dawg, I gotta go..(oh6)..Imma keep rolling mo, Yeah Imma keep going..Oh..(go2)..Oh..fo sho,..(Ohh3)..Woah,..Yeah I gotta..(go3)..Yeah..I gotta (go2)..(Ohh5)..Yeah of course Imma (glow8)..that's..(Fo sho4)..Yeah dawg..Uhh,yeah I gotta go..

Ohh, whatever God wants me to go then I'm going hes my master & I must obey him or I'm just useless like a 80s era cell phone,Yeah so whatever God wants me to do then Im on it, like a good assistant..
The Heavenly Father assistes me that's why I am still living today,..He's my creator, he's an inspiration for you & me Aye..Uhh Imma **** Yeah..Imma..(****5)..,real talk..
Imma always give (my all
3)..(all2)....but not my soul that belongs to the Heavenly Father,..Yeah..(Fo sho5)..(Ohh2), Uhh..Young Ston..

(Ohh
7)..Uhh..I won't be stopped..(Noo3)..(Oh2)..I'm too..(strong3)..(Ohh6)..like the Hulk, Oh..I'm incredible & I'm untouchable, Yeah..Imma threat to the world..no Osama Bin Laden tho, but Death to America Fo sho..

(yo8)..I won't stop..(Noo6)..(Ohh10)..,I'm on (go8)..Oh..I (glow7)..Oh..(goo8)..Uhh...(Ohh7)..
Woah,Oh..Let's (go
6)..Oh..

Im on (go9), Like P.D Eastman, go dawg go..OFTR no we don't support these hos..we only support the real yo..Imma blow, Imma shine, & Imma glow like a nuclear bomb dude, Noo I can't give up now, I'm too close to the finish line, my ***** I will have my victory man,Yeah..
I'm gonna prove all of them doubters wrong,..OFTR we all Kings & Queens , yo these busters all ready tryna steal flow from me..,yo forget being  in a secret society,..Imma let my gang be know mane , Yeah Imma real ***** & I'm proud of being one mane..ayo,What happen to potten lyrics & conscience word play...Hip Hop is dead, so Imma  resurrected it my *****..
These rappers be in the studio playing house naked & dress up wit each other, then claim to be..(bout it
2)..on cameras,..Yeah man..

Yo, shoutout to Nas, Aye, I get that ether flow subconsciously when I rhyme, ayo my Flow kinda reminds ya when hip hop first had started, now these rappers sound like Prince, too much purple drank got these ****** going ******* , I can't understand a **** thang they rhyming..these ****** just don't make no sense anymore, yeah they all  so pathetic..,they ain't even making they own profits, all that revenue is going inside the white manz pockets,they **'s yeah they getting  pimped..By The Illuminati..Uhh,Yeah

I dun gott hot like KD at Rucker Park forget the hook, leave it out, I'm shooting it man, Uhh..I wrote alot of legendary **** while living with my  mama, so yeah I gotta give back to my mama, Noo I won't do what Kanye West or Jennifer Hudson did to their families, **** where yall souls at..Yall suppose to be ******, but yall on that crazy white kid ****..Tyler Hadley..Uhh, I guess the money done, made yall its puppets, Ohh well, ****, yall inspired me to not do what y'all did..so thanks,.. Aye
I have no fears, Only For my Heavenly Father & that's outta love & respect...

Aye man..I wrote this early New Years eve 2015, I had to end the year off wit something deep that'll make the people think & at the same time, let all these elementary reading level looking *** ****** see why I'm the new king in my city,..so hand the crown to me TI, no disrespect, I know you see me , real recognize real,Yeah or has being a celebrity made you blind to the facts ****, & What's good Ye,..what happen to Jesus walks..you Satans ***** now,..You ain't no God..Uhh..****..I just wanna know,Ayo  what's wrong wit asking questions man, that's what's so wrong wit people today, they so afraid of the truth, but living the pagan Satanic way..****..
What's wrong wit this world, I know its alot of information that they scared to share wit us, but we need to know, before Independence Day the movie become our reality, Yeah mane..let's change the world & make it a better place..(Ohh6)

(yo
8)..I won't stop..(Noo6)..(Ohh10)..,I'm on (go8)..Oh..I (glow7)..Oh..(goo8)..Uhh...(Ohh7)..
Woah,Oh..Let's (go6)..Oh..

Let's do it, come along wit me my brothers & my sisters & let's all make history my ***** its much room but you can't be afraid of the evil..(Noo
2).., & You gotta be willing to make sacrifices for G-o-d only..(Ohh3)..Yeah of course sometimes we may lose, but the losses only makes you stronger..(Ohh2)..I won't stop..(Noo2)..because I know when the end comes that I am doing the right thing..Yeah man, I'm glowing..

/I'm on..(go
3)..(Ohh4)/..3
(Ohh8)..(I glow2)(glow2)..(Yeah2)..(I glow3)..(Yeah5)..Uhh..Yeah (I glow2)..Yeah I glow man,..I glow..(glow3)..Yeah , (I glow3)...,Yeah..(I glow3)..man..Uhh..

I'm the mufucking man, Yeah I usta have nothing , I usta to sleep on the floor, or I usta to sleep on a sofa.., I wake up my neck & back be so sore, but I soared away from that struggle on to success dawg..Uhh, Yeah Imma skinny young dude that loves to spit my mind on a beat & smoke good kush to yo..I remember a time not so long ago, when I couldn't even barley afford to, but **** I stilled smoked tho dude..(Ohh8)
I was jobless stressing out my mama, causing problems around the house man because I wasn't trying get a job man..Yeah I had drive man, all I ever wanted to do tho is stay at the crib & write hits..Uhh,Yeah you can say that I was lost & confused but I was only 19..man I was only tryna figure out my true  purpose on this earth instead of slaving for the white manz..

So I started up my own business OFTR, Yeah..Im only tryna give the people what they need not what they want man & that's what they gonna get..yo..we can all learn & teach each other new things, cooperation, Yeah we can all be Leaders & rulers instead of being so against each other mane..real spit we need to cease with the stupidity & be a family, because we can all glow Yeah we can all glow my *****, we gotta go  make some moves, before its too late & the end times come & people don't know what to do man..I said we can all glow,Yeah we can all glow man, so Lets glow together, & grow together to my *****..(Yeah
4)..

(Ohh8)..I won't stop..(no2)..I'm on..(go9)..(Oh4)..I won't slow down at all..(no4)..(I'm on go,Yeah2)..(go7)....Ohhwoah..go..go

Like some DC **** dawg,..Uhh, I'm bringing the whole hood wit me, everybody gone eat Yeah..& if you want beef from me, I don't keep none like a vegetarian,Yeah I keep alot of proteins, knowledge & wisdom mane, you can eat them , Aye man, if you hating *****, ******* & If you ever disrespect the clique that's gonna be yo last time man..Aye, so you better repent..
Young Ston, The ****** Disciple, Yeah I love to stay fried but I ain't no dummy, Imma OFTR Soulja,...**** right mane..Aye

They always got something say..Yeah mane
Them nasty ******* & ***** ******  like to stay talking , Yeah ***** they talk alot of fucc **** concerning me man..but I don't care about their words because mines more powerful, They Bruce Wayne & I'm Clark Kent dawg..,Uhh,Yeah..Aye..
I'm one of one like a custom made breitling, I'm so confident in myself , I got alot of confidence in my team..OFTR, we gone win no matter how hard the mission seems, like we was train by the A Team..
Yeah we winners mane so they don't gotta notice me, because I already know where I'm heading mane..Its cool, I'm good, I'm gravey,Yeah Its okay mane.I'm g.Cuhz, (I'm still glowing,Yeah..Uhh
2)..I'm shinning my light bright on all the hate,..*****

(I glow3)..(Yeah2)..(I glow3)..man...(Ohh6)..,yo, I said...(I glow6)..(Oh7)..Yeah..(Oh3)..I won't stop...(no9)...(Yeah4), I'm on (go5)..(Oh5)..I won't stop..(no2)..Im on..(go5)...(Oh6)..I won't stop  no,Oh,..I'm on go **..(Ohh4)..
Woah!!
Uhh..

OFTR, this The Statement, dawg,..no I won't stop, I'm on go..Yeah..Ayo **** the rules, **** the laws, we breaking them all, we gone ball, Yeah Fo show..,so they can say whatever they wanna say man..,Yeah They can think whatever they wanna think about ya my *****..let them jeaslous busters hate..don't worry, be happy, let the doubters be your motivation,.. Uhh,...I'm the streets preacher, I'm The ****** Disciple, you don't wanna battle against me dawg,..(no you don't
3)..(Oh4)..Uhh, yo much love to all my real ****** thats still breathing Yeah..shoutouts to all yall..yo..
OFTR, we ascending, Yeah *****..we blowing up like the Al Quada goons, OFTR we thugs tho ****..
I don't got much food in my refrigerator, but I ain't even hungry my *****,..I'm getting full off of these rhymes, Yeah this is spiritual food man & it tastes so good like og..Uhh,mane,Noo I don't pop beans, but I do keep alot of bars on me & they got me in another plane..Aye

Yeah I do admit I must change some of my gangsta ways, Im so hectic, but noo I can't  change my gene's,like I'm homeless,..Ayo, Yeah I live life so recklessly,but I'm humble..I'm so misunderstood,I'm  just different man, but I love the way that God has made me...OFTR..(Yeah
2)..I told them ******  that this **** would happen way before I was even established as a certifted business..Yeah I show em, when I was posting songs on my tumblr page & talking so much **** on twitter,..Yeah I forewarn you *******, them busters didn't even get to  see me like Jesus secondcoming.., no they didn't take me serious , so now they gotta deal wit the consequences, man, they only made my job more easy when I finally made it..

Hahaha..no Davis..,what up tho my *****..Look whos laughing now,Yeah now who's richer not yall ***** made *** **** a ****  arch ya back for a deal  *** rappers.., Uhh **** yo whole squad they all just sweet ***** *** ******, yall could never make the moves I dun made anyway..Noo I ain't perfect but yall too of the world, yall too weak & afraid of the truth..Uhh
Yall **** ****** know who yall are theres no need for me to even say y'all ***** *** names..OFTR We the realest gang, we the best in the A, we the best world wide too mane, Aye..,Yeah..

I'm glowing.. When they was like "Noo you wouldn't.."..but forget em, Yeah **** em, forget em,..Aye, where all of my **** gangsters & down women at who got my back show some love, I show some back..Oh..(Yeah4)..& I ain't even rapping right now *****, this the Outro,..So I'm making my last few statements before this beat stops, ****..I know the engineer tired, I been  working him towards a billion..Uhh, my ***** they saying what I'm tryna do is thee impossible, but I'm on..(go3)..(Oh3)..I won't stop (Noo3),I'm on..(go3)..(Oh5)..Fo show..Uhh..
You can do anything you wanna do my *****, & you can be anything that you wanna be..,Yeah & that's for sure.. Real gangsta talk..

Uhh, Shoutout to all my OFTRA Souljas , Shoutout to all my ****** Disciples, I love all of yall, for real my *****, I really do mean that to..yall the only ones I'll give my heart too..Yeah..
Only For The Real *****..Only For The Righteous.., Yeah,..OFTR, Only For The Real business, Yeah.., Only For The Righteous..
(Yeah Only For The Real *****, Yeah Only For The Righteous*2)..This is for the righteous & this is for the Real..only..for real homie
stonpoet.tumblr.com
“After we were clear of the river Oceanus, and had got out into
the open sea, we went on till we reached the Aeaean island where there
is dawn and sunrise as in other places. We then drew our ship on to
the sands and got out of her on to the shore, where we went to sleep
and waited till day should break.
  “Then, when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, I
sent some men to Circe’s house to fetch the body of Elpenor. We cut
firewood from a wood where the headland jutted out into the sea, and
after we had wept over him and lamented him we performed his funeral
rites. When his body and armour had been burned to ashes, we raised
a cairn, set a stone over it, and at the top of the cairn we fixed the
oar that he had been used to row with.
  “While we were doing all this, Circe, who knew that we had got
back from the house of Hades, dressed herself and came to us as fast
as she could; and her maid servants came with her bringing us bread,
meat, and wine. Then she stood in the midst of us and said, ‘You
have done a bold thing in going down alive to the house of Hades,
and you will have died twice, to other people’s once; now, then,
stay here for the rest of the day, feast your fill, and go on with
your voyage at daybreak tomorrow morning. In the meantime I will
tell Ulysses about your course, and will explain everything to him
so as to prevent your suffering from misadventure either by land or
sea.’
  “We agreed to do as she had said, and feasted through the livelong
day to the going down of the sun, but when the sun had set and it came
on dark, the men laid themselves down to sleep by the stern cables
of the ship. Then Circe took me by the hand and bade me be seated away
from the others, while she reclined by my side and asked me all
about our adventures.
  “‘So far so good,’ said she, when I had ended my story, ‘and now pay
attention to what I am about to tell you—heaven itself, indeed,
will recall it to your recollection. First you will come to the Sirens
who enchant all who come near them. If any one unwarily draws in too
close and hears the singing of the Sirens, his wife and children
will never welcome him home again, for they sit in a green field and
warble him to death with the sweetness of their song. There is a great
heap of dead men’s bones lying all around, with the flesh still
rotting off them. Therefore pass these Sirens by, and stop your
men’s ears with wax that none of them may hear; but if you like you
can listen yourself, for you may get the men to bind you as you
stand upright on a cross-piece half way up the mast, and they must
lash the rope’s ends to the mast itself, that you may have the
pleasure of listening. If you beg and pray the men to unloose you,
then they must bind you faster.
  “‘When your crew have taken you past these Sirens, I cannot give you
coherent directions as to which of two courses you are to take; I will
lay the two alternatives before you, and you must consider them for
yourself. On the one hand there are some overhanging rocks against
which the deep blue waves of Amphitrite beat with terrific fury; the
blessed gods call these rocks the Wanderers. Here not even a bird
may pass, no, not even the timid doves that bring ambrosia to Father
Jove, but the sheer rock always carries off one of them, and Father
Jove has to send another to make up their number; no ship that ever
yet came to these rocks has got away again, but the waves and
whirlwinds of fire are freighted with wreckage and with the bodies
of dead men. The only vessel that ever sailed and got through, was the
famous Argo on her way from the house of Aetes, and she too would have
gone against these great rocks, only that Juno piloted her past them
for the love she bore to Jason.
  “‘Of these two rocks the one reaches heaven and its peak is lost
in a dark cloud. This never leaves it, so that the top is never
clear not even in summer and early autumn. No man though he had twenty
hands and twenty feet could get a foothold on it and climb it, for
it runs sheer up, as smooth as though it had been polished. In the
middle of it there is a large cavern, looking West and turned
towards Erebus; you must take your ship this way, but the cave is so
high up that not even the stoutest archer could send an arrow into it.
Inside it Scylla sits and yelps with a voice that you might take to be
that of a young hound, but in truth she is a dreadful monster and no
one—not even a god—could face her without being terror-struck. She
has twelve mis-shapen feet, and six necks of the most prodigious
length; and at the end of each neck she has a frightful head with
three rows of teeth in each, all set very close together, so that they
would crunch any one to death in a moment, and she sits deep within
her shady cell thrusting out her heads and peering all round the rock,
fishing for dolphins or dogfish or any larger monster that she can
catch, of the thousands with which Amphitrite teems. No ship ever
yet got past her without losing some men, for she shoots out all her
heads at once, and carries off a man in each mouth.
  “‘You will find the other rocks lie lower, but they are so close
together that there is not more than a bowshot between them. [A
large fig tree in full leaf grows upon it], and under it lies the
******* whirlpool of Charybdis. Three times in the day does she
***** forth her waters, and three times she ***** them down again; see
that you be not there when she is *******, for if you are, Neptune
himself could not save you; you must hug the Scylla side and drive
ship by as fast as you can, for you had better lose six men than
your whole crew.’
  “‘Is there no way,’ said I, ‘of escaping Charybdis, and at the
same time keeping Scylla off when she is trying to harm my men?’
  “‘You dare-devil,’ replied the goddess, you are always wanting to
fight somebody or something; you will not let yourself be beaten
even by the immortals. For Scylla is not mortal; moreover she is
savage, extreme, rude, cruel and invincible. There is no help for
it; your best chance will be to get by her as fast as ever you can,
for if you dawdle about her rock while you are putting on your armour,
she may catch you with a second cast of her six heads, and snap up
another half dozen of your men; so drive your ship past her at full
speed, and roar out lustily to Crataiis who is Scylla’s dam, bad
luck to her; she will then stop her from making a second raid upon
you.
  “‘You will now come to the Thrinacian island, and here you will
see many herds of cattle and flocks of sheep belonging to the sun-god-
seven herds of cattle and seven flocks of sheep, with fifty head in
each flock. They do not breed, nor do they become fewer in number, and
they are tended by the goddesses Phaethusa and Lampetie, who are
children of the sun-god Hyperion by Neaera. Their mother when she
had borne them and had done suckling them sent them to the
Thrinacian island, which was a long way off, to live there and look
after their father’s flocks and herds. If you leave these flocks
unharmed, and think of nothing but getting home, you may yet after
much hardship reach Ithaca; but if you harm them, then I forewarn
you of the destruction both of your ship and of your comrades; and
even though you may yourself escape, you will return late, in bad
plight, after losing all your men.’
  “Here she ended, and dawn enthroned in gold began to show in heaven,
whereon she returned inland. I then went on board and told my men to
loose the ship from her moorings; so they at once got into her, took
their places, and began to smite the grey sea with their oars.
Presently the great and cunning goddess Circe befriended us with a
fair wind that blew dead aft, and stayed steadily with us, keeping our
sails well filled, so we did whatever wanted doing to the ship’s gear,
and let her go as wind and helmsman headed her.
  “Then, being much troubled in mind, I said to my men, ‘My friends,
it is not right that one or two of us alone should know the prophecies
that Circe has made me, I will therefore tell you about them, so
that whether we live or die we may do so with our eyes open. First she
said we were to keep clear of the Sirens, who sit and sing most
beautifully in a field of flowers; but she said I might hear them
myself so long as no one else did. Therefore, take me and bind me to
the crosspiece half way up the mast; bind me as I stand upright,
with a bond so fast that I cannot possibly break away, and lash the
rope’s ends to the mast itself. If I beg and pray you to set me
free, then bind me more tightly still.’
  “I had hardly finished telling everything to the men before we
reached the island of the two Sirens, for the wind had been very
favourable. Then all of a sudden it fell dead calm; there was not a
breath of wind nor a ripple upon the water, so the men furled the
sails and stowed them; then taking to their oars they whitened the
water with the foam they raised in rowing. Meanwhile I look a large
wheel of wax and cut it up small with my sword. Then I kneaded the wax
in my strong hands till it became soft, which it soon did between
the kneading and the rays of the sun-god son of Hyperion. Then I
stopped the ears of all my men, and they bound me hands and feet to
the mast as I stood upright on the crosspiece; but they went on rowing
themselves. When we had got within earshot of the land, and the ship
was going at a good rate, the Sirens saw that we were getting in shore
and began with their singing.
  “‘Come here,’ they sang, ‘renowned Ulysses, honour to the Achaean
name, and listen to our two voices. No one ever sailed past us without
staying to hear the enchanting sweetness of our song—and he who
listens will go on his way not only charmed, but wiser, for we know
all the ills that the gods laid upon the Argives and Trojans before
Troy, and can tell you everything that is going to happen over the
whole world.’
  “They sang these words most musically, and as I longed to hear
them further I made by frowning to my men that they should set me
free; but they quickened their stroke, and Eurylochus and Perimedes
bound me with still stronger bonds till we had got out of hearing of
the Sirens’ voices. Then my men took the wax from their ears and
unbound me.
  “Immediately after we had got past the island I saw a great wave
from which spray was rising, and I heard a loud roaring sound. The men
were so frightened that they loosed hold of their oars, for the
whole sea resounded with the rushing of the waters, but the ship
stayed where it was, for the men had left off rowing. I went round,
therefore, and exhorted them man by man not to lose heart.
  “‘My friends,’ said I, ‘this is not the first time that we have been
in danger, and we are in nothing like so bad a case as when the
Cyclops shut us up in his cave; nevertheless, my courage and wise
counsel saved us then, and we shall live to look back on all this as
well. Now, therefore, let us all do as I say, trust in Jove and row on
with might and main. As for you, coxswain, these are your orders;
attend to them, for the ship is in your hands; turn her head away from
these steaming rapids and hug the rock, or she will give you the
slip and be over yonder before you know where you are, and you will be
the death of us.’
  “So they did as I told them; but I said nothing about the awful
monster Scylla, for I knew the men would not on rowing if I did, but
would huddle together in the hold. In one thing only did I disobey
Circe’s strict instructions—I put on my armour. Then seizing two
strong spears I took my stand on the ship Is bows, for it was there
that I expected first to see the monster of the rock, who was to do my
men so much harm; but I could not make her out anywhere, though I
strained my eyes with looking the gloomy rock all over and over
  “Then we entered the Straits in great fear of mind, for on the one
hand was Scylla, and on the other dread Charybdis kept ******* up
the salt water. As she vomited it up, it was like the water in a
cauldron when it is boiling over upon a great fire, and the spray
reached the top of the rocks on either side. When she began to ****
again, we could see the water all inside whirling round and round, and
it made a deafening sound as it broke against the rocks. We could
see the bottom of the whirlpool all black with sand and mud, and the
men were at their wit’s ends for fear. While we were taken up with
this, and were expecting each moment to be our last, Scylla pounced
down suddenly upon us and snatched up my six best men. I was looking
at once after both ship and men, and in a moment I saw their hands and
feet ever so high above me, struggling in the air as Scylla was
carrying them off, and I heard them call out my name in one last
despairing cry. As a fisherman, seated, spear in hand, upon some
jutting rock throws bait into the water to deceive the poor little
fishes, and spears them with the ox’s horn with which his spear is
shod, throwing them gasping on to the land as he catches them one by
one—even so did Scylla land these panting creatures on her rock and
munch them up at the mouth of her den, while they screamed and
stretched out their hands to me in their mortal agony. This was the
most sickening sight that I saw throughout all my voyages.
  “When we had passed the [Wandering] rocks, with Scylla and
terrible Charybdis, we reached the noble island of the sun-god,
where were the goodly cattle and sheep belonging to the sun
Hyperion. While still at sea in my ship I could bear the cattle lowing
as they came home to the yards, and the sheep bleating. Then I
remembered what the blind Theban prophet Teiresias had told me, and
how carefully Aeaean Circe had warned me to shun the island of the
blessed sun-god. So being much troubled I said to the men, ‘My men,
I know you are hard pressed, but listen while I tell you the
prophecy that Teiresias made me, and how carefully Aeaean Circe warned
me to shun the island of the blessed sun-god, for it was here, she
said, that our worst danger would lie. Head the ship, therefore,
away from the island.’
  “The men were in despair at this, and Eurylochus at once gave me
an insolent answer. ‘Ulysses,’ said he, ‘you are cruel; you are very
strong yourself and never get worn out; you seem to be made of iron,
and now, though your men are exhausted with toil and want of sleep,
you will not let them land and cook themselves a good supper upon this
island, but bid them put out to sea and go faring fruitlessly on
through the watches of the flying night. It is by night that the winds
blow hardest and do so much damage; how can we escape should one of
those sudden squalls spring up from South West or West, which so often
wreck a vessel when our lords the gods are unpropitious? Now,
therefore, let us obey the of night and prepare our supper here hard
by the ship; to-morrow morning we will go on board again and put out
to sea.’
  “Thus spoke Eurylochus, and the men approved his words. I saw that
heaven meant us a mischief and said, ‘You force me to yield, for you
are many against one, but at any rate each one of you must take his
solemn oath that if he meet with a herd of cattle or a large flock
of sheep, he will not be so mad as to **** a single head of either,
but will be satisfied with the food that Circe has given us.’
  “They all swore as I bade them, and when they had completed their
oath we made the ship fast in a harbour that was near a stream of
fresh water, and the men went ashore and cooked their suppers. As soon
as they had had enough to eat and drink, they began talking about
their poor comrades whom Scylla had snatched up and eaten; this set
them weeping and they went on crying till they fell off into a sound
sleep.
  “In the third watch of the night when the stars had shifted their
places, Jove raised a great gale of wind that flew a hurricane so that
land and sea were covered with thick clouds, and night sprang forth
out of the heavens. When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn,
appeared, we brought the ship to land and drew her into a cave wherein
the sea-nymphs hold their courts and dances, and
NA Apr 2016
I tried strumming the strings of a broken guitar,
I tried rebuilding a city back up from its ruins,
I tried singing the words of a distant lullaby,
But had I known once a rose has tipped its head
Watering it would become useless;
I would've left our love's broken pieces
For the wind to come and sweep away.
Once it's broken, you can never truly get it back to how it was before.
Steve D'Beard Jun 2014
I am the barbed thorn
the serrated reward
facing savage cruel winter;
sedition in transmission.

I am the only pawn
on your chequered board
facing a feisty queen;
of restricting submission.

I am the demonic exon
a heraldic discord
facing bleak futures;
an inherent disposition.

I am the stillborn reborn
the aberration restored
facing anomalies instability;
violation on a mission.

I am broken and worn
a fallen sword
facing a grim battle;
outnumbered by division.

I am the brass horn
the out of tune chord
facing orchestral expulsion;
a musician in remission.

I am history's forewarn
the contrite accord ignored
facing penitent absolution;
clemency in transition.
Descend from Heaven, Urania, by that name
If rightly thou art called, whose voice divine
Following, above the Olympian hill I soar,
Above the flight of Pegasean wing!
The meaning, not the name, I call: for thou
Nor of the Muses nine, nor on the top
Of old Olympus dwellest; but, heavenly-born,
Before the hills appeared, or fountain flowed,
Thou with eternal Wisdom didst converse,
Wisdom thy sister, and with her didst play
In presence of the Almighty Father, pleased
With thy celestial song.  Up led by thee
Into the Heaven of Heavens I have presumed,
An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air,
Thy tempering: with like safety guided down
Return me to my native element:
Lest from this flying steed unreined, (as once
Bellerophon, though from a lower clime,)
Dismounted, on the Aleian field I fall,
Erroneous there to wander, and forlorn.
Half yet remains unsung, but narrower bound
Within the visible diurnal sphere;
Standing on earth, not rapt above the pole,
More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchanged
To hoarse or mute, though fallen on evil days,
On evil days though fallen, and evil tongues;
In darkness, and with dangers compassed round,
And solitude; yet not alone, while thou
Visitest my slumbers nightly, or when morn
Purples the east: still govern thou my song,
Urania, and fit audience find, though few.
But drive far off the barbarous dissonance
Of Bacchus and his revellers, the race
Of that wild rout that tore the Thracian bard
In Rhodope, where woods and rocks had ears
To rapture, till the savage clamour drowned
Both harp and voice; nor could the Muse defend
Her son.  So fail not thou, who thee implores:
For thou art heavenly, she an empty dream.
Say, Goddess, what ensued when Raphael,
The affable Arch-Angel, had forewarned
Adam, by dire example, to beware
Apostasy, by what befel in Heaven
To those apostates; lest the like befall
In Paradise to Adam or his race,
Charged not to touch the interdicted tree,
If they transgress, and slight that sole command,
So easily obeyed amid the choice
Of all tastes else to please their appetite,
Though wandering.  He, with his consorted Eve,
The story heard attentive, and was filled
With admiration and deep muse, to hear
Of things so high and strange; things, to their thought
So unimaginable, as hate in Heaven,
And war so near the peace of God in bliss,
With such confusion: but the evil, soon
Driven back, redounded as a flood on those
From whom it sprung; impossible to mix
With blessedness.  Whence Adam soon repealed
The doubts that in his heart arose: and now
Led on, yet sinless, with desire to know
What nearer might concern him, how this world
Of Heaven and Earth conspicuous first began;
When, and whereof created; for what cause;
What within Eden, or without, was done
Before his memory; as one whose drouth
Yet scarce allayed still eyes the current stream,
Whose liquid murmur heard new thirst excites,
Proceeded thus to ask his heavenly guest.
Great things, and full of wonder in our ears,
Far differing from this world, thou hast revealed,
Divine interpreter! by favour sent
Down from the empyrean, to forewarn
Us timely of what might else have been our loss,
Unknown, which human knowledge could not reach;
For which to the infinitely Good we owe
Immortal thanks, and his admonishment
Receive, with solemn purpose to observe
Immutably his sovran will, the end
Of what we are.  But since thou hast vouchsafed
Gently, for our instruction, to impart
Things above earthly thought, which yet concerned
Our knowing, as to highest wisdom seemed,
Deign to descend now lower, and relate
What may no less perhaps avail us known,
How first began this Heaven which we behold
Distant so high, with moving fires adorned
Innumerable; and this which yields or fills
All space, the ambient air wide interfused
Embracing round this floried Earth; what cause
Moved the Creator, in his holy rest
Through all eternity, so late to build
In Chaos; and the work begun, how soon
Absolved; if unforbid thou mayest unfold
What we, not to explore the secrets ask
Of his eternal empire, but the more
To magnify his works, the more we know.
And the great light of day yet wants to run
Much of his race though steep; suspense in Heaven,
Held by thy voice, thy potent voice, he hears,
And longer will delay to hear thee tell
His generation, and the rising birth
Of Nature from the unapparent Deep:
Or if the star of evening and the moon
Haste to thy audience, Night with her will bring,
Silence; and Sleep, listening to thee, will watch;
Or we can bid his absence, till thy song
End, and dismiss thee ere the morning shine.
Thus Adam his illustrious guest besought:
And thus the Godlike Angel answered mild.
This also thy request, with caution asked,
Obtain; though to recount almighty works
What words or tongue of Seraph can suffice,
Or heart of man suffice to comprehend?
Yet what thou canst attain, which best may serve
To glorify the Maker, and infer
Thee also happier, shall not be withheld
Thy hearing; such commission from above
I have received, to answer thy desire
Of knowledge within bounds; beyond, abstain
To ask; nor let thine own inventions hope
Things not revealed, which the invisible King,
Only Omniscient, hath suppressed in night;
To none communicable in Earth or Heaven:
Enough is left besides to search and know.
But knowledge is as food, and needs no less
Her temperance over appetite, to know
In measure what the mind may well contain;
Oppresses else with surfeit, and soon turns
Wisdom to folly, as nourishment to wind.
Know then, that, after Lucifer from Heaven
(So call him, brighter once amidst the host
Of Angels, than that star the stars among,)
Fell with his flaming legions through the deep
Into his place, and the great Son returned
Victorious with his Saints, the Omnipotent
Eternal Father from his throne beheld
Their multitude, and to his Son thus spake.
At least our envious Foe hath failed, who thought
All like himself rebellious, by whose aid
This inaccessible high strength, the seat
Of Deity supreme, us dispossessed,
He trusted to have seised, and into fraud
Drew many, whom their place knows here no more:
Yet far the greater part have kept, I see,
Their station; Heaven, yet populous, retains
Number sufficient to possess her realms
Though wide, and this high temple to frequent
With ministeries due, and solemn rites:
But, lest his heart exalt him in the harm
Already done, to have dispeopled Heaven,
My damage fondly deemed, I can repair
That detriment, if such it be to lose
Self-lost; and in a moment will create
Another world, out of one man a race
Of men innumerable, there to dwell,
Not here; till, by degrees of merit raised,
They open to themselves at length the way
Up hither, under long obedience tried;
And Earth be changed to Heaven, and Heaven to Earth,
One kingdom, joy and union without end.
Mean while inhabit lax, ye Powers of Heaven;
And thou my Word, begotten Son, by thee
This I perform; speak thou, and be it done!
My overshadowing Spirit and Might with thee
I send along; ride forth, and bid the Deep
Within appointed bounds be Heaven and Earth;
Boundless the Deep, because I Am who fill
Infinitude, nor vacuous the space.
Though I, uncircumscribed myself, retire,
And put not forth my goodness, which is free
To act or not, Necessity and Chance
Approach not me, and what I will is Fate.
So spake the Almighty, and to what he spake
His Word, the Filial Godhead, gave effect.
Immediate are the acts of God, more swift
Than time or motion, but to human ears
Cannot without process of speech be told,
So told as earthly notion can receive.
Great triumph and rejoicing was in Heaven,
When such was heard declared the Almighty’s will;
Glory they sung to the Most High, good will
To future men, and in their dwellings peace;
Glory to Him, whose just avenging ire
Had driven out the ungodly from his sight
And the habitations of the just; to Him
Glory and praise, whose wisdom had ordained
Good out of evil to create; instead
Of Spirits malign, a better race to bring
Into their vacant room, and thence diffuse
His good to worlds and ages infinite.
So sang the Hierarchies:  Mean while the Son
On his great expedition now appeared,
Girt with Omnipotence, with radiance crowned
Of Majesty Divine; sapience and love
Immense, and all his Father in him shone.
About his chariot numberless were poured
Cherub, and Seraph, Potentates, and Thrones,
And Virtues, winged Spirits, and chariots winged
From the armoury of God; where stand of old
Myriads, between two brazen mountains lodged
Against a solemn day, harnessed at hand,
Celestial equipage; and now came forth
Spontaneous, for within them Spirit lived,
Attendant on their Lord:  Heaven opened wide
Her ever-during gates, harmonious sound
On golden hinges moving, to let forth
The King of Glory, in his powerful Word
And Spirit, coming to create new worlds.
On heavenly ground they stood; and from the shore
They viewed the vast immeasurable abyss
Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild,
Up from the bottom turned by furious winds
And surging waves, as mountains, to assault
Heaven’s highth, and with the center mix the pole.
Silence, ye troubled Waves, and thou Deep, peace,
Said then the Omnifick Word; your discord end!
Nor staid; but, on the wings of Cherubim
Uplifted, in paternal glory rode
Far into Chaos, and the world unborn;
For Chaos heard his voice:  Him all his train
Followed in bright procession, to behold
Creation, and the wonders of his might.
Then staid the fervid wheels, and in his hand
He took the golden compasses, prepared
In God’s eternal store, to circumscribe
This universe, and all created things:
One foot he centered, and the other turned
Round through the vast profundity obscure;
And said, Thus far extend, thus far thy bounds,
This be thy just circumference, O World!
Thus God the Heaven created, thus the Earth,
Matter unformed and void:  Darkness profound
Covered the abyss: but on the watery calm
His brooding wings the Spirit of God outspread,
And vital virtue infused, and vital warmth
Throughout the fluid mass; but downward purged
The black tartareous cold infernal dregs,
Adverse to life: then founded, then conglobed
Like things to like; the rest to several place
Disparted, and between spun out the air;
And Earth self-balanced on her center hung.
Let there be light, said God; and forthwith Light
Ethereal, first of things, quintessence pure,
Sprung from the deep; and from her native east
To journey through the aery gloom began,
Sphered in a radiant cloud, for yet the sun
Was not; she in a cloudy tabernacle
Sojourned the while.  God saw the light was good;
And light from darkness by the hemisphere
Divided: light the Day, and darkness Night,
He named.  Thus was the first day even and morn:
Nor past uncelebrated, nor unsung
By the celestial quires, when orient light
Exhaling first from darkness they beheld;
Birth-day of Heaven and Earth; with joy and shout
The hollow universal orb they filled,
And touched their golden harps, and hymning praised
God and his works; Creator him they sung,
Both when first evening was, and when first morn.
Again, God said,  Let there be firmament
Amid the waters, and let it divide
The waters from the waters; and God made
The firmament, expanse of liquid, pure,
Transparent, elemental air, diffused
In circuit to the uttermost convex
Of this great round; partition firm and sure,
The waters underneath from those above
Dividing: for as earth, so he the world
Built on circumfluous waters calm, in wide
Crystalline ocean, and the loud misrule
Of Chaos far removed; lest fierce extremes
Contiguous might distemper the whole frame:
And Heaven he named the Firmament:  So even
And morning chorus sung the second day.
The Earth was formed, but in the womb as yet
Of waters, embryon immature involved,
Appeared not: over all the face of Earth
Main ocean flowed, not idle; but, with warm
Prolifick humour softening all her globe,
Fermented the great mother to conceive,
Satiate with genial moisture; when God said,
Be gathered now ye waters under Heaven
Into one place, and let dry land appear.
Immediately the mountains huge appear
Emergent, and their broad bare backs upheave
Into the clouds; their tops ascend the sky:
So high as heaved the tumid hills, so low
Down sunk a hollow bottom broad and deep,
Capacious bed of waters:  Thither they
Hasted with glad precipitance, uprolled,
As drops on dust conglobing from the dry:
Part rise in crystal wall, or ridge direct,
For haste; such flight the great command impressed
On the swift floods:  As armies at the call
Of trumpet (for of armies thou hast heard)
Troop to their standard; so the watery throng,
Wave rolling after wave, where way they found,
If steep, with torrent rapture, if through plain,
Soft-ebbing; nor withstood them rock or hill;
But they, or under ground, or circuit wide
With serpent errour wandering, found their way,
And on the washy oose deep channels wore;
Easy, ere God had bid the ground be dry,
All but within those banks, where rivers now
Stream, and perpetual draw their humid train.
The dry land, Earth; and the great receptacle
Of congregated waters, he called Seas:
And saw that it was good; and said, Let the Earth
Put forth the verdant grass, herb yielding seed,
And fruit-tree yielding fruit after her kind,
Whose seed is in herself upon the Earth.
He scarce had said, when the bare Earth, till then
Desart and bare, unsightly, unadorned,
Brought forth the tender grass, whose verdure clad
Her universal face with pleasant green;
Then herbs of every leaf, that sudden flowered
Opening their various colours, and made gay
Her *****, smelling sweet: and, these scarce blown,
Forth flourished thick the clustering vine, forth crept
The swelling gourd, up stood the corny reed
Embattled in her field, and the humble shrub,
And bush with frizzled hair implicit:  Last
Rose, as in dance, the stately trees, and spread
Their branches hung with copious fruit, or gemmed
Their blossoms:  With high woods the hills were crowned;
With tufts the valleys, and each fountain side;
With borders long the rivers: that Earth now
Seemed like to Heaven, a seat where Gods might dwell,
Or wander with delight, and love to haunt
Her sacred shades: though God had yet not rained
Upon the Earth, and man to till the ground
None was; but from the Earth a dewy mist
Went up, and watered all the ground, and each
Plant of the field; which, ere it was in the Earth,
God made, and every herb, before it grew
On the green stem:  God saw that it was good:
So even and morn recorded the third day.
Again the Almighty spake, Let there be lights
High in the expanse of Heaven, to divide
The day from night; and let them be for signs,
For seasons, and for days, and circling years;
And let them be for lights, as I ordain
Their office in the firmament of Heaven,
To give light on the Earth; and it was so.
And God made two great lights, great for their use
To Man, the greater to have rule by day,
The less by night, altern; and made the stars,
And set them in the firmament of Heaven
To illuminate the Earth, and rule the day
In their vicissitude, and rule the night,
And light from darkness to divide.  God saw,
Surveying his great work, that it was good:
For of celestial bodies first the sun
A mighty sphere he framed, unlightsome first,
Though of ethereal mould: then formed the moon
Globose, and every magnitude of stars,
And sowed with stars the Heaven, thick as a field:
Of light by far the greater part he took,
Transplanted from her cloudy shrine, and placed
In the sun’s orb, made porous to receive
And drink the liquid light; firm to retain
Her gathered beams, great palace now of light.
Hither, as to their fountain, other stars
Repairing, in their golden urns draw light,
And hence the morning-planet gilds her horns;
By tincture or reflection they augment
Their small peculiar, though from human sight
So far rem
Then, when we had got down to the sea shore we drew our ship into
the water and got her mast and sails into her; we also put the sheep
on board and took our places, weeping and in great distress of mind.
Circe, that great and cunning goddess, sent us a fair wind that blew
dead aft and stayed steadily with us keeping our sails all the time
well filled; so we did whatever wanted doing to the ship’s gear and
let her go as the wind and helmsman headed her. All day long her sails
were full as she held her course over the sea, but when the sun went
down and darkness was over all the earth, we got into the deep
waters of the river Oceanus, where lie the land and city of the
Cimmerians who live enshrouded in mist and darkness which the rays
of the sun never pierce neither at his rising nor as he goes down
again out of the heavens, but the poor wretches live in one long
melancholy night. When we got there we beached the ship, took the
sheep out of her, and went along by the waters of Oceanus till we came
to the place of which Circe had told us.
  “Here Perimedes and Eurylochus held the victims, while I drew my
sword and dug the trench a cubit each way. I made a drink-offering
to all the dead, first with honey and milk, then with wine, and
thirdly with water, and I sprinkled white barley meal over the
whole, praying earnestly to the poor feckless ghosts, and promising
them that when I got back to Ithaca I would sacrifice a barren
heifer for them, the best I had, and would load the pyre with good
things. I also particularly promised that Teiresias should have a
black sheep to himself, the best in all my flocks. When I had prayed
sufficiently to the dead, I cut the throats of the two sheep and let
the blood run into the trench, whereon the ghosts came trooping up
from Erebus—brides, young bachelors, old men worn out with toil,
maids who had been crossed in love, and brave men who had been
killed in battle, with their armour still smirched with blood; they
came from every quarter and flitted round the trench with a strange
kind of screaming sound that made me turn pale with fear. When I saw
them coming I told the men to be quick and flay the carcasses of the
two dead sheep and make burnt offerings of them, and at the same
time to repeat prayers to Hades and to Proserpine; but I sat where I
was with my sword drawn and would not let the poor feckless ghosts
come near the blood till Teiresias should have answered my questions.
  “The first ghost ‘that came was that of my comrade Elpenor, for he
had not yet been laid beneath the earth. We had left his body
unwaked and unburied in Circe’s house, for we had had too much else to
do. I was very sorry for him, and cried when I saw him: ‘Elpenor,’
said I, ‘how did you come down here into this gloom and darkness?
You have here on foot quicker than I have with my ship.’
  “‘Sir,’ he answered with a groan, ‘it was all bad luck, and my own
unspeakable drunkenness. I was lying asleep on the top of Circe’s
house, and never thought of coming down again by the great staircase
but fell right off the roof and broke my neck, so my soul down to
the house of Hades. And now I beseech you by all those whom you have
left behind you, though they are not here, by your wife, by the father
who brought you up when you were a child, and by Telemachus who is the
one hope of your house, do what I shall now ask you. I know that
when you leave this limbo you will again hold your ship for the Aeaean
island. Do not go thence leaving me unwaked and unburied behind you,
or I may bring heaven’s anger upon you; but burn me with whatever
armour I have, build a barrow for me on the sea shore, that may tell
people in days to come what a poor unlucky fellow I was, and plant
over my grave the oar I used to row with when I was yet alive and with
my messmates.’ And I said, ‘My poor fellow, I will do all that you
have asked of me.’
  “Thus, then, did we sit and hold sad talk with one another, I on the
one side of the trench with my sword held over the blood, and the
ghost of my comrade saying all this to me from the other side. Then
came the ghost of my dead mother Anticlea, daughter to Autolycus. I
had left her alive when I set out for Troy and was moved to tears when
I saw her, but even so, for all my sorrow I would not let her come
near the blood till I had asked my questions of Teiresias.
  “Then came also the ghost of Theban Teiresias, with his golden
sceptre in his hand. He knew me and said, ‘Ulysses, noble son of
Laertes, why, poor man, have you left the light of day and come down
to visit the dead in this sad place? Stand back from the trench and
withdraw your sword that I may drink of the blood and answer your
questions truly.’
  “So I drew back, and sheathed my sword, whereon when he had drank of
the blood he began with his prophecy.
  “You want to know,’ said he, ‘about your return home, but heaven
will make this hard for you. I do not think that you will escape the
eye of Neptune, who still nurses his bitter grudge against you for
having blinded his son. Still, after much suffering you may get home
if you can restrain yourself and your companions when your ship
reaches the Thrinacian island, where you will find the sheep and
cattle belonging to the sun, who sees and gives ear to everything.
If you leave these flocks unharmed and think of nothing but of getting
home, you may yet after much hardship reach Ithaca; but if you harm
them, then I forewarn you of the destruction both of your ship and
of your men. Even though you may yourself escape, you will return in
bad plight after losing all your men, [in another man’s ship, and
you will find trouble in your house, which will be overrun by
high-handed people, who are devouring your substance under the pretext
of paying court and making presents to your wife.
  “‘When you get home you will take your revenge on these suitors; and
after you have killed them by force or fraud in your own house, you
must take a well-made oar and carry it on and on, till you come to a
country where the people have never heard of the sea and do not even
mix salt with their food, nor do they know anything about ships, and
oars that are as the wings of a ship. I will give you this certain
token which cannot escape your notice. A wayfarer will meet you and
will say it must be a winnowing shovel that you have got upon your
shoulder; on this you must fix the oar in the ground and sacrifice a
ram, a bull, and a boar to Neptune. Then go home and offer hecatombs
to an the gods in heaven one after the other. As for yourself, death
shall come to you from the sea, and your life shall ebb away very
gently when you are full of years and peace of mind, and your people
shall bless you. All that I have said will come true].’
  “‘This,’ I answered, ‘must be as it may please heaven, but tell me
and tell me and tell me true, I see my poor mother’s ghost close by
us; she is sitting by the blood without saying a word, and though I am
her own son she does not remember me and speak to me; tell me, Sir,
how I can make her know me.’
  “‘That,’ said he, ‘I can soon do Any ghost that you let taste of the
blood will talk with you like a reasonable being, but if you do not
let them have any blood they will go away again.’
  “On this the ghost of Teiresias went back to the house of Hades, for
his prophecyings had now been spoken, but I sat still where I was
until my mother came up and tasted the blood. Then she knew me at once
and spoke fondly to me, saying, ‘My son, how did you come down to this
abode of darkness while you are still alive? It is a hard thing for
the living to see these places, for between us and them there are
great and terrible waters, and there is Oceanus, which no man can
cross on foot, but he must have a good ship to take him. Are you all
this time trying to find your way home from Troy, and have you never
yet got back to Ithaca nor seen your wife in your own house?’
  “‘Mother,’ said I, ‘I was forced to come here to consult the ghost
of the Theban prophet Teiresias. I have never yet been near the
Achaean land nor set foot on my native country, and I have had nothing
but one long series of misfortunes from the very first day that I
set out with Agamemnon for Ilius, the land of noble steeds, to fight
the Trojans. But tell me, and tell me true, in what way did you die?
Did you have a long illness, or did heaven vouchsafe you a gentle easy
passage to eternity? Tell me also about my father, and the son whom
I left behind me; is my property still in their hands, or has some one
else got hold of it, who thinks that I shall not return to claim it?
Tell me again what my wife intends doing, and in what mind she is;
does she live with my son and guard my estate securely, or has she
made the best match she could and married again?’
  “My mother answered, ‘Your wife still remains in your house, but she
is in great distress of mind and spends her whole time in tears both
night and day. No one as yet has got possession of your fine property,
and Telemachus still holds your lands undisturbed. He has to entertain
largely, as of course he must, considering his position as a
magistrate, and how every one invites him; your father remains at
his old place in the country and never goes near the town. He has no
comfortable bed nor bedding; in the winter he sleeps on the floor in
front of the fire with the men and goes about all in rags, but in
summer, when the warm weather comes on again, he lies out in the
vineyard on a bed of vine leaves thrown anyhow upon the ground. He
grieves continually about your never having come home, and suffers
more and more as he grows older. As for my own end it was in this
wise: heaven did not take me swiftly and painlessly in my own house,
nor was I attacked by any illness such as those that generally wear
people out and **** them, but my longing to know what you were doing
and the force of my affection for you—this it was that was the
death of me.’
  “Then I tried to find some way of embracing my mother’s ghost.
Thrice I sprang towards her and tried to clasp her in my arms, but
each time she flitted from my embrace as it were a dream or phantom,
and being touched to the quick I said to her, ‘Mother, why do you
not stay still when I would embrace you? If we could throw our arms
around one another we might find sad comfort in the sharing of our
sorrows even in the house of Hades; does Proserpine want to lay a
still further load of grief upon me by mocking me with a phantom
only?’
  “‘My son,’ she answered, ‘most ill-fated of all mankind, it is not
Proserpine that is beguiling you, but all people are like this when
they are dead. The sinews no longer hold the flesh and bones together;
these perish in the fierceness of consuming fire as soon as life has
left the body, and the soul flits away as though it were a dream. Now,
however, go back to the light of day as soon as you can, and note
all these things that you may tell them to your wife hereafter.’
  “Thus did we converse, and anon Proserpine sent up the ghosts of the
wives and daughters of all the most famous men. They gathered in
crowds about the blood, and I considered how I might question them
severally. In the end I deemed that it would be best to draw the
keen blade that hung by my sturdy thigh, and keep them from all
drinking the blood at once. So they came up one after the other, and
each one as I questioned her told me her race and lineage.
  “The first I saw was Tyro. She was daughter of Salmoneus and wife of
Cretheus the son of ******. She fell in love with the river Enipeus
who is much the most beautiful river in the whole world. Once when she
was taking a walk by his side as usual, Neptune, disguised as her
lover, lay with her at the mouth of the river, and a huge blue wave
arched itself like a mountain over them to hide both woman and god,
whereon he loosed her ****** girdle and laid her in a deep slumber.
When the god had accomplished the deed of love, he took her hand in
his own and said, ‘Tyro, rejoice in all good will; the embraces of the
gods are not fruitless, and you will have fine twins about this time
twelve months. Take great care of them. I am Neptune, so now go
home, but hold your tongue and do not tell any one.’
  “Then he dived under the sea, and she in due course bore Pelias
and Neleus, who both of them served Jove with all their might.
Pelias was a great ******* of sheep and lived in Iolcus, but the other
lived in Pylos. The rest of her children were by Cretheus, namely,
Aeson, Pheres, and Amythaon, who was a mighty warrior and charioteer.
  “Next to her I saw Antiope, daughter to Asopus, who could boast of
having slept in the arms of even Jove himself, and who bore him two
sons Amphion and Zethus. These founded Thebes with its seven gates,
and built a wall all round it; for strong though they were they
could not hold Thebes till they had walled it.
  “Then I saw Alcmena, the wife of Amphitryon, who also bore to Jove
indomitable Hercules; and Megara who was daughter to great King Creon,
and married the redoubtable son of Amphitryon.
  “I also saw fair Epicaste mother of king OEdipodes whose awful lot
it was to marry her own son without suspecting it. He married her
after having killed his father, but the gods proclaimed the whole
story to the world; whereon he remained king of Thebes, in great grief
for the spite the gods had borne him; but Epicaste went to the house
of the mighty jailor Hades, having hanged herself for grief, and the
avenging spirits haunted him as for an outraged mother—to his ruing
bitterly thereafter.
  “Then I saw Chloris, whom Neleus married for her beauty, having
given priceless presents for her. She was youngest daughter to Amphion
son of Iasus and king of Minyan Orchomenus, and was Queen in Pylos.
She bore Nestor, Chromius, and Periclymenus, and she also bore that
marvellously lovely woman Pero, who was wooed by all the country
round; but Neleus would only give her to him who should raid the
cattle of Iphicles from the grazing grounds of Phylace, and this was a
hard task. The only man who would undertake to raid them was a certain
excellent seer, but the will of heaven was against him, for the
rangers of the cattle caught him and put him in prison; nevertheless
when a full year had passed and the same season came round again,
Iphicles set him at liberty, after he had expounded all the oracles of
heaven. Thus, then, was the will of Jove accomplished.
  “And I saw Leda the wife of Tyndarus, who bore him two famous
sons, Castor breaker of horses, and Pollux the mighty boxer. Both
these heroes are lying under the earth, though they are still alive,
for by a special dispensation of Jove, they die and come to life
again, each one of them every other day throughout all time, and
they have the rank of gods.
  “After her I saw Iphimedeia wife of Aloeus who boasted the embrace
of Neptune. She bore two sons Otus and Ephialtes, but both were
short lived. They were the finest children that were ever born in this
world, and the best looking, Orion only excepted; for at nine years
old they were nine fathoms high, and measured nine cubits round the
chest. They threatened to make war with the gods in Olympus, and tried
to set Mount Ossa on the top of Mount Olympus, and Mount Pelion on the
top of Ossa, that they might scale heaven itself, and they would
have done it too if they had been grown up, but Apollo, son of Leto,
killed both of them, before they had got so much as a sign of hair
upon their cheeks or chin.
  “Then I saw Phaedra, and Procris, and fair Ariadne daughter of the
magician Minos, whom Theseus was carrying off from Crete to Athens,
but he did not enjoy her, for before he could do so Diana killed her
in the island of Dia on account of what Bacchus had said against her.
  “I also saw Maera and Clymene and hateful Eriphyle, who sold her own
husband for gold. But it would take me all night if I were to name
every single one of the wives and daughters of heroes whom I saw,
and it is time for me to go to bed, either on board ship with my crew,
or here. As for my escort, heaven and yourselves
His kalenjin tribesmen planned for tribal wars to cleanse kikuyus and luhyias
From the their lands, planned out of tribal sadism,
He was fully aware, as he understood the kalenjin coded language of war
And preparation for war, war of the years 2007 and 2008,
He did not give any holy bishopric **** to save his non indigenous folks
The people to be killed and tribally cleansed were the members
Of his catholic church in the dioceses of Eldoret,
The ones to **** were his kalenjin tribesmen,
But bishop korir could not counsel nor forewarn,
He did not give out any peace focused advice
That a catholic should not **** a catholic
Because of politics or worldliness,
Instead he gave respect to his tribal sentimentality
He behaved as a kalenjin first then a catholic later,
A spiritual paradox of the century,
Only equated in the Biafra tribal sentimentality between igbos and yorubas
Redolent of European ****** or the American ku Klux ****

But after all the non kalenjin Catholics from his dioceses
Had been killed, burned up in the church, ***** up
Homoerotically perhaps in the madness of tribal scorn,
That they now became refugees in their own country; Kenya
And then solemnly condemned to the refugee camps,
Is when Bishop korir Cornelius came out of his tribal kernel
With vices of a  kipskiss sadist , holy rosary in his hand,
Singing an out dated poem of Hail Mary the ******
Mother of Jesus Christ to them, the IDPS,
He then promoted a priest from his tribe,
The one kimengich up the hegemonic altar to become
The bishop of Lodwar from where they loot
The illiterate turkana catholic peasants their relief foods,
And even jobs, and clothes, only to give to those who are not needy,
To the kalenjin who are not even catholic nor marginalized, some even Moslem,
All these happens in the sweetness of tribal syndrome,
A social disease which the holy sacrament of the catholic faith
Have not and never will heal Bishop Cornelius korir.
It’s man and man all the way
Cut down jungles
To make a rail way!

Why in protest cry
When the wheels crush
A few elephant would die!

Men would then embark
On their old game
Railway or forest
Which department to blame!

When comes the night
Man’s greed would speed
Elephants aren’t on sight!

The drivers would not see
There was no forewarn
Death would come easy
No hearts shattering mourn!

Railway would remain dour
There isn’t enough watch towers
Forest dept. would blame the wheels
The pilot didn’t whistle!

Men would again go back
Cut through the forest
Not leaving elephants’ track!

Evolved men heart of steel
Without a remorse a feel
Laying rail is big deal
Must move our progress’s wheel!
Every year elephants are getting killed on the railroad tracks in India and the authorities appear least concerned only engaging in departmental blame game.
Mysidian Bard Feb 2017
Bravery is not a trait to be learned,
but a decision that's yet to be made.
When standing against overwhelming odds
there's good reason to be afraid,

but despair does not ensure cowardice
and adversity does not equal defeat.
Every man still has a fighting chance
as long as his heart still beats.

Be always valiant and forever fearless
against what others may forewarn,
because the decisions made amidst catastrophe
are also when heroes are born.
Noel Iesse Feb 2015
Make me out a monster
when I am merely a damsel in distress
refusing to digress
into the arms of just anyone.

I can't view others for more than playthings.
I'll stay for awhile if you ask nice.
I am not a girl. I am mice,
Something your mother fears.

I'll break through your door
before light does your window.
Many find that hard to swallow.
There is no permanence.
William A Poppen Apr 2014
The orange fire of morning sky
blazes through birthing branches
green with sprigs of spring.  

Wrens announce their intentions
to live this day as a breeze from the west
kicks buds of oak-leaf  hydrangeas toward the sky.

A grey bank of clouds fights to claim territory.
Soft pit pats, pit pat across patios, sidewalks and roof-top shingles
forewarn the burst arriving against the earth.  

Rain, beloved by some
disfavored by others,
becomes relentless.

Bolts, sharp and direct,
provoke clouds to participate
in the deluge.

Rain, beloved by some
disfavored by others,
shifts gears to softness.

Rain, beloved by some
disfavored by others,
owns the day.
Gypsy Noel Aug 2012
where broken souls gather-
where hollowed hearts meet-
where happiness is evanescent,
their demons will make their greet

and he will bestow malady 'pon her-
and he will make her nether-
but should he then bathe in her blood,
she'll break their silky tether.

and she will provoke his passionate rage-
and she will use it to make him fall-
but should she cross the line time after time-
he'll build another unbreakable wall.

and danger is screamed in their ears,
but blinded they are to the forewarn,
their intertwining is selfishly reckless,
alas, another violent delight is born.

so where broken souls gather-
where hollowed hearts meet-
where happiness is evanescent,
their demons will make their greet...
Mpayinfo) Akwaaba,
The melodies streaming and vibrating,
Are lyrics inked
By the rankled lightenings,
On the dark clouds,
And blown by the gods
From their retributive flutes,
Prompting the thunders to chorus,
The terrors,

                    Mpayinfo)
The legs of time is stout,
And will stride wearing not,
For the coals and brimstones creeps,
And will be pernicious,
Even to your progenies,

                       Mpayinfo)
For the language of the gods,
I speak not,
But their deep seated pique
And bruises,
I tell and forewarn,

                           Mpayinfo),
Where is Okyeame and the Omanhene,
Where are they?
Why come without them?
I guess they know;their clandestines
Have fallen before the sights of the gods,
Vultures that eats from the pots of the eagele;In his absence,
And smear faeces on the tips,
Traitors of traditions,

For the alien groceries
Have tucked their intelligence,
And left them groggy
Famished Dogs

                            Mpayinfo),
Why sit-tight and watch;
As aliens contrive a throne
Over our goods?
And defile our land
With their iniquituos schemes
Ubiquitously,

                       Mpayinfo)
The gods sing the blues,
And grieve day and night,
Their tadpoles have lorn them,
And clung to an alien deity,
For this I say and forewarn,
Like I told your fathers before,
If the witchweed is not uprooted with vehemence,
The creeping coals and brimstones,
Shall surely surmount entirely,
"A word to a wise";They say"it enough"
Now go,


                               Oracle
                              ©Historian E.Lexano,
Dandy Nov 2013
Infantile, juvenile, call it what you will
For now I shall believe that my life's been one big spill
and for notches in Your belt, or notches on Your bedpost
I ran along the snowy banks vying for lost hope
My bare feet turned to ice blocks and for me that's my burden
I did it only to inform the other birds that You'll lure in
To forewarn them of the gentle hands that mend broken wings
because in the beginning all is heard while angels sing
and maybe by the end I’ll harbor brand new feathers
but the fingerprints upon them are now far too much to weather
Sat atop an emerald pedestal in a cage spun of gold
A window has become all that's left of old
So fair warning to all whose veins are weak:
don't give away your hopes to just anyone that will let you speak
For what it's worth my wing does seem improved
Although the brokenness was my only form of proof

DDD
*(3/14/2013)
Maryanne M Jan 2013
How does a kite fly
with just a simple
paper and a thread?

A kite..
It seems so beautiful
from afar

Innocence deceived me
I breathed as human
But I was flying
like a kite
Enthralled of
the colors I thought I had
Felt safe with the promise
of a thread

I soared higher
Gliding through the air
Looking down
at the smiling faces
Applause, praises
I have never felt such glory
Never had I known
such peace

I soared higher
But no matter how hard
I tried
The thread pulled me back
I felt suspended
Unable to go on
Was I really flying?
Or was I only being tossed?

Solitude in the air..

I thought the clouds were
cotton candy
But when I took a grasp
I touched nothing
It avoided my fingers
And the sun
Was not a bowl of gold
Then sadness took hold

Mama once told me
Winds were dusts of silver
That is why
we close our eyes
When it blows
And nights were
dusts of coal
That is why we sleep

Maybe Mama was right
It must be dusts of silver
For when sadness came
I felt the air clogging within
They are indeed dusts of coal
For I found myself in tears
as I closed my eyes at night
And dreamed of a happy place

Ah! Chasing rainbows

And gloom took over
bluish sky
Forewarn of incoming rain
And I was dragged
by the filament
But the wind delayed my descent
The overcast covered the earth
and the rain poured over
It washed out my colors
It shattered my beautiful paper

My master ran for cover
And there I was alone
In that perfidious
summer storm
She let go of the thread
I came spiraling down
Like a falcon
that has been shot dead
Slumped on the solid ground

That was when I discovered
I didn't have colors at all
Nor did I have nice paper
And the thread was not that strong
It suddenly dawned on me
That the world will not
always be a summer
That I didn't mean to fly
I didn't belong to the sky

A **** on the rib cage..

Reality knocked
And it knocked me off indeed
It was a great revelation
Maybe a moment of enlightenment
That I was actually a wooden stick
Solid and strong
Stronger than the thread
The thread
that has dragged me down

I was disheartened
Yet I was relieved
As I saw new wonders
out of my sadness
That I am a tiny wood
In this big, wide world
Although the sky is not mine
I finally knew what I am
I am not a lyrical poet. I ramble, I follow an irregularly winding course. However, I cannot make it short.
It's like skipping to the end of the book.
you know the outcome, but miss the fun of reaching the end naturally.
that's how it feels.

or it's more like a deadline. quite literally, in fact.
you must have done this much, by this time, or... well... who really knows?

now is not the time to reflect on the spiritual aspect.

there are things to do. and to prepare.
things need to be organised, papers need to be signed...
people need to be informed.
oh, why. not only do I have to meet this fate, I also have to forewarn the ones I love of it. as if the knowledge of what is impending wasn't bad enough.
I have to see their faces as they accept it.
I have to see the tears and the shock.
I have to witness how they love me, in the worst yet most beautiful way.
How do you divide your life into boxes to go to different people?
how do you say good bye, finally?

How can I be expected to do this? to handle this?
how does anyone do it?
do I just say "Hey universe! thanks for having me, it's been swell! say hi to God for me!" or is it more than that?
Do I need to say anything at all?
can't I just lie here... and wait?

or is that all I've done my whole life?
all we do is wait to die.
another of me and David Watt's challenges.
Ryan Bowdish Jan 2011
Incense and steam listlessly fractal
into air molecules. Keyboards weep,
A typewriter ticks on awkwardly.
The hallway wide awake;
Kids crying.

Letters can't reach you quickly
(I'll write 7 by the time you have 1).
There aren't enough hours in the day.
Phones should be like lions' roars.
I wish I didn't have separated parents.

Hoping you have a full stomach.
I saw your warm bed.
Hoping your ears are covered,
Your back straight, your hands strong
Your grip tight.

I want you back.
Let's make love.
Sketches of you scattered.

Sirens forewarn rescue.
Maybe yours? (Please)

Please be free.
I love you.
Kiana Lynn Jun 2015
Take a deep breath,
see the pain was just a catch.
This ship has yet to sail,
so just exhale.
You might think your heart’s mangled,
your throat’s so raw from screaming, it’s like you’ve been strangled.
Fists clenched,
hair drenched,
mascara so far down your cheeks
it appears in muddled black streaks.
See you put your heart in the palm of his hands
thinking to yourself, “the rest of the world be ******”
so sure taking care of it was what he planned.
Two feet in,
love rolled out, seeking you like a bowling ball and you the pin.
You never stood a chance,
this love was a “Bad Romance”
but that song didn’t forewarn
that there was nothing like his scorn.
You wanted his ugly parts, but not this
for it was seeping into your every shared kiss.
But, take solace in this,
the fact that you’ll experience a bigger, real kind of bliss.
This pain will fade,
you’ll meet someone who doesn’t use his words as a blade.
These wounds will heal,
and you’ll start to feel
new things; a new start
in this book of life, you’ll realize this hurt was just a small part.
Next time, a man’s fists won’t hurt, they’ll mend.
His words won’t aim to tear you down, but for you they’ll defend.
Your hair will be drenched, not from a fight in the rain, but from a shower shared.
Your mascara will be spared.
Your heart will stay steadily beating,
for this time his love won’t be fleeting.
It’ll be with him, that ship will sail
and hand in hand you’ll both prevail.
So take a deep breath; exhale.
Use this knowledge to your avail.
Stop making excuses
for these healing and newly formed bruises.
Stop fighting him, and start fighting for YOU
it’s time for your beautiful beginning; for you to start anew.
Leave the hurt and the heavy weight on your shoulders behind
for even though this is only a poem you’ll find
that you now understand,
the risk that’s at hand.
Realize what you deserve,
show him that he’s not someone you serve.
Know your worth,
and know you’ve been destined for so much more than this since birth.
john tucker Jan 2014
This poem is the result of a cancer scare for my partner and I imagined if the worst situation were the result how I would cope without her....

My body, still thirsts,
For your touch;
As the desert, craves the rain.

The melody,
That once was us;
Will never play again...

The Rose,
Symbolic of our love.
One day, forgot to bloom.

Did not forewarn,
Its thorny wounds;
Had yet, to play their tune.

Poignant memory,
All that's left; of
Blissful days we knew..
.
The day you died;
I sat and cried.
And part of me died too....

For I was lost;
As a star is lost,
Above the suns' bright hue...

And every day;
That comes my way.
Is spent in missing you.......
Lawrence Hall May 2017
The Flying Squadron of Church Ladies

At First Communion the Flying Squadron
of Church Ladies surround the children to:
Reprove, reproach, command, censor, chastise,
Berate, exhort, implore, upbraid, adjust

Chastise, upbraid, embarrass, harangue, rebuke,
Enjoin, dictate, direct, require, apprise,
Advise, inform, beseech, explain, uphold,
Impart, compel, remind, forewarn, correct:

Because since Peter’s time, all this is what
The Flying Squadrons of Church Ladies do
Jonathan Finch Jan 2017
You worry me.

Your eyes dilate
as though an extra sorrow
enters them.

What is their colour?

You have told me
but the quirks of memory
forewarn the image
of my search
until a resurrection
seems impossible.

Perhaps I’m colour-blind.

Today I caught a conker
falling from a chestnut tree.
It dovetailed to my hand
and lay quite still –
a little stained but perfectly intact.

The surface shone translucently:
a brilliant, brown-red gloss.

Perhaps you’ll disbelieve me
but I thought : this colour’s like Anne’s eyes.

A little later wings of blue
persuaded me to change my mind
and then a blade of grass began a long interrogation.

Shyly and involuntarily your eyes appear
like music fading to a silent close.

from "Poems People Liked (2)"
Francie Lynch Jul 2015
Will you falter and fade
In a Palliative room,
With beeps and tubes
Confirming your doom?
Or a fiery crash
And screech of rubber
As onlookers see
Your hair aflame;
Will you fall from the sky
In a laser marked plane;
Get shot while buying
A lottery ticket,
Die doing something
Horribly wicked?
Perhaps the sound
Near your ears at night
Will forewarn your demise
By a mosquito bite.
West Nile, malaria, itching yourself to death. :)
Danielle Jones Feb 2011
the steep ceiling held culture and resistance,
as if it was to forewarn my angles and eye sight of the
high powers and street talk that hung over the bad ones.
i guess i don't know enough about religion or the great
  enlightenment to feel comfortable to intellectually
       give the word to the people.
                              (i could almost feel the jealousy burning off my fingers as i write this.)
                                        "i wish i could sway you with the words
                                          i contained in dainty letters and home-
                                          made thank you cards, but nothing settled
                                          this debate."
i sweltered through this indication that you had it,
you were better than me by a few sentences,
and i plotted a gentle whisper through the hole in the plaster.
i took a record player and some water from the fridge in the
hopes you could see how serious i was.

you didn't notice.

i locked myself out to forget about the times your synchronized
collection followed me out of town.
© Danielle Jones 2011
Anisah Nov 2017
Beyond these thick and earthy browns
Past the muted greens and river dams
Lies the skin forewarn of many few
Holds the chatter far past due.

Here they lay in beds of tears
Made from the anguish of their peers
Not one heart, the beats are mere
How can they breathe when no-one can hear.

Incantations spoken, memories cried
Why do they act like someone has died?
No-one has passed, No-one is dead
She must have a poor, false, clouded head.

If we are the people that live when we die
How can we live if we all survive?
How can we speak when our enemies fall?
When the truth is unveiled, salvage us all.

To win and to victor are two different things.
Whats winning when winners live through the slings?
Whats being a victor when victors always fall?
It's a concept when enemies are made of us all.

Every body buried is another body burned.
Every body buried is a lesson not learnt.
A lesson taught from the beginings of time
And a lesson ignored past the world's decline.

Don't shrug your shoulders, don't join in the cheer
These people they murdered, slaughtered and feared.
They ruined the lives of innocent new
Innocent old and the revered few.

Spilling blood in revenge or prevention of cause
Still stains your hands with that guilty remorse.
So don't be fooled by the excuses they make
Slaughter is laughter with and S and a take.

-By Anisah Mariah
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Do you ever think at night,
what life would be without a fight,
all unicorns and shooting stars,
everybody driving Rolls Royce cars.

No boiling tears or searing pain,
never have a muscle strain,
no helmets or concussions,
everything an easy discussion.

Utopic dreams fill the screens,
everybody eating Bobby Flay cuisine,
just a path of ease and boredom,
so just let me forewarn you,
real life is not all champagne,
the truth is no pain no gain.

The struggles make us who we are,
without them, there is just no bar,
no goals to reach nothing to strive for,
no rivals or opponents to outscore.

This would breed union mentality,
I don’t need that in my reality,
I like drivers and winners,
the ones that want that chicken dinner.

Or maybe even something better,
looking to be the fast pace-setter,
be the one to summit the mountain top,
never ever looking to stop.

Work ethics are dead,
all our feet turned to lead,
we reward mediocrity,
this is simply an atrocity,

Utopic dreams fill the screens,
everybody eating Bobby Flay cuisine,
just a path of ease and boredom,
so just let me forewarn you,
real life is not all champagne,
the truth is no pain no gain.
I could really use some help cleaning up the flow with this and some help with the refrain.   If any one is interested.
Annelise Camille Mar 2019
Things are getting bad again
It was a long time coming
I try to escape it
But I’m tired of running
Things are getting bad again

How can I outlive this ghost?
How do I know it’s not me?
They say there are things
Lurking in the deep you can’t see
And there are some things we must be
Befriend the ghost

Things are getting bad again
We came down this road
Potholes, sinkholes, dead ends
Rerun and rewatch the episode
Things are getting bad again

Just a matter of time
Like I said before
Like they forewarn
Flirting with It so obscure
I am running out of time
Then in the nick,
I make it out — barely alive

Things are getting bad again
we survive just to fight for our lives again
Zoe Sue Mar 2018
Deranged distortions thinking i could contort just right foot red left foot blue twist and turn on trembling tip toes so i might fit into pocket or palm, remain calm if claimed clammed up im bearable woman being rearranged into commercial jingle ring "im good, how are you" stuck in head or throat tote a hoarse smile stinking of another blah facade forlorn forewarn follows fake plant growth in (t)his sunlight promised life to the rubber made grade points plucked like pencil pushing excuses, effort isnt tallied into parking lot anxiety attack lacking attendance peer remembrance of your presence in bleeding nailbeds ****** into sweatshirt smothered eraser faces, forgetful social graces self slap lap up launguage barrier breaks cant breathe without letting words escape race to wring the worry whimpers that echo out of bitten lips split a panicked pulse quicker and louder shout not now mouthy mislead slink in your seat enter dark disengage garble gag on empress embarrass
I have a history of feeling out of place in a classroom and theres a tremendous amount of anxiety that tags along with this. Without really analyzing one might think im entirely comfortable in class because my nervousness makes me word ***** everywhere when id really rather remain unnoticed. These outbusts are my symptom of being unsettled. Teachers dont understand my not coming to class and people dont picture anxiety the way it manifests for me. Anyways, enjoy
jeffrey conyers Jul 2014
A healing substance, it will always be.
Especially ,if you into needing some physical needs.
It has healed the sick.
It has raised the dead.
When humans has stated they have headed to their final home.

It has healed the heart.
One that has been broken and torn apart.
This is apart of the beneficial side of love.
It has help many to over come.

It comfort.
It forewarn you to the danger surrounding you.
It shows concern.
When those that cares reaches out to protect you.
Especially from those professing to love you.
Yes, this is the beneficial side of love.

It's debated about.
When various folks states love is a hurting thing.
Without seeing on earth, it's the most important thing.

Whatever?
Whatever hurt it has created?
It has the strength to recreate against.

Love has its purpose.
God know , why it's important?
Julian Apr 2023
https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/l8njruxa73yee9b0jzmhd/The-Ultimate-Unabridged-Guide-to-Esoteric-Working-English-2.docx?­rlkey=kunoar7ghpfkb7fjk5xkdgx95&st=i84ornny&dl=0

DIDDICOYS OF CACHALOT CAMARADERIE SCAFFOLDED BY A VYGOTSKIAN SUNRISE OF SAFFRON SAGINATION OF A PINGUEFIED SLENDER DAMSEL OF STAR-CROSSED AFFLICTIONS BEMOANING THE GRUELING TAXIDERMY OF LIVID TRIUMPHS FOR SPRINGBOKS IN THE SPANDRELS OF JAMDANI RARELY DEFINED BY THE ZEAL OF THROTTLEBOTTOMS TO USE DELITESCENT MALCONTENT TO FOMENT THE FLARES OF REVOLUTIONARY GRIPES OF GRIM SUMPTERS ARRAYED BY THE PLENARY INHABITANTS OF DENEHOLES OF THE AGES OF ARBALESK GAUNT AND DECIMATED BY VINEYARDS OF FOISONS OF UPAS IN ANTINOMIAN HARVEST THAT DECRIES WITH THE CLENCHED DECLENSION OF MISCARRIED JUSTICE THAT OVERLAYS THE MAGNATES OF OUR TIMES WITH SELECTIVE IMMUNITY THAT WE MIGHT FIND STATOLITH GRADGRINDS OF IATROMATHEMATICS IN PORTFIRE THAT THE CHRONOMANCY OF DIKEPHOBIA ROAMS REGNANT IN NEBBICH PATAVINITY BECAUSE THE PASILALY UNLEASHED HEREBY IRRADICATES A MYTHOS UNLEASHED BY VEESES OF VESUVIATION FOR VARSAL PICTURES OF PIXELLATED SALVATION THAT EVEN IN JASPERATED GOMPHIASIS AGAINST GONFALONIERS BRAZEN WITH BRAINTRUST AURILAVE AUTHORITARIANISM THAT MIGHT THE HACHURE IMPREGNATE A STERILIZED TIME THAT BLUEPETERS OF MULIEBRITY MIGHT EXORCISE THE MISANDRY OF THEIR TRIBULATIONS INCULCATING  THEM TO BELIEVE SUCH HARRIDANS AND SCARAMOUCHES OF SACRILEGE THAT AN INVENTED PARSEC OF FARCICAL FATIDICAL LIES OF ****** PELARGIC DENOUEMENT THAT EVENTUALLY THE CULPRITS DISMISSIVE OF ACCOLENT CULTURES OF HEYDAY BECOMING THE CENTERPIECE OF TOMES OF AFFLICTION THAT THE PROPER COMPROMISE BECOMES A BETTER AVIZANDUM THAN SHOW-TRIAL BUFFOONERY BY BABIRUSA NOMENCLATURE OF JUGGINS JUDOGI ENFORCED BY CABRILLA THAT USES CADRES OF CABRES TO OUTFOX ALL GENTILITY IN THE SUPERSTITIOUS FLICTION OF FAVELAS SQUIRMING AROUND JAWHOLE SENSITIVITY IN SIMULTAGNOSIA TO BROWBEAT ELEUTHERPOMANIA EVEN WHEN ITS RECOURSE IS A BONANZA FOR HUMAN FRUITION BECAUSE IN BOUNDLESS BELIEF AND COUNTLESS DRACULIAN DRAPERY OF THE POSTCENNIUM OF HEBENON LIES TRYING TO TREACLE AN INVETERATE REGARD FOR SACRILEGE RATHER THAN PROMOTING A SACROSANCT REVOLUTION OF PROPRIETY MIXED WITH APOLAUSTIC FUROR MIGHT WE THEN SEE TIME CULMINATE IN THE RICHES OF LAVISH INGLUVIES RATHER THAN SUBORNED FAGINS AGAINST NEOVITALISM IN THEIR CASUALISM OF ACCIDENTAL PROAIRESIS WHICH OFTEN NEGLECTS THE WONDERWORK OR THE WUNDERKIND BECAUSE THE KUNDLESROMAN PROFFERED BY CLOYING LIMITROPHES OF ASCENDANCY IN DECEIT FINDS A SUBTERNATURAL HAVEN AMONG OBSEQUIOUS OBEQUITATION BECAUSE OF AMENDES NEEDING REFORM AND PUNCTILLIOUS REGARD NEEDING A HONED INSTRUMENTALISM OF UNIVERSAL SALVATION AFFORDED EVEN TO THE PHARISEE GENTILES CLOUDY IN HAZES OF PHAROAHS OF ICEBLINK VERGLAS HAUGHTY AND SUPERIOR ONLY BY THEIR OWN BARAGNOSIS OF WEIGHAGE BY THE STEVEDORES OF VANGERMYTE VAMPIRES WHO FLAUNT CARELESS CAUSALITY AS THE ADVENT OF AN IRREVERENT NIHILISM ALREADY DEBUNKED BY THE CLERISY WHICH SEES HOW INCULCATION CREATED BY IMBREVIATED MYTHOS MIGHT BECOME A BENTHIC TRAP OF NIDAMENTAL FUROR AGAINST THE WIREWOVEN TAPESTRIES THAT BORROW FROM STATE FARM TURBINATED TOURBILLONS OF CONTORTION A WIELDED SENTRY OF MECHANIZED CONVENIENCE BY AGENTS OF CONSUMERIST MASKIROVKA TO THE BENEFIT OF ENTIRE SOCIETIES OF LARGESSE ONLY TO THE EXTENT THAT THE FUNNEL OF SIFFLEURS REMAINS IMMUNE TO PROCRYPSIS IN INVAGINATION PRIOR TO THE INITIATION OF THE BARNSTORM HEYDAYS THAT YIELD FROM THE FULGURANT TWANG AND TWISTLE OF TWIRES OF TYMPANY A MOUNTENANCE OF SHARED GROWTH THAT STANDPIPES ***** TO IMMUNIZE AGAINST ENCAUSTIC MEANS OF ARTIFICIAL DEBASEMENT IN AN UPCOMING ERA OF THE LAZIEST BELLETRIST EVER AUTHORED BY CYBERNETIC HANDS RATHER THAN PURIFIED HUMAN INGENUITY. WE MUST FOREWARN, THEREFORE, THAT A SOCIETY THAT JUST GLOMS AND TWADDLES AROUND LIKE A LAZARET WHEN ELASTANE SIMPLICITIES COMPOUNDED BY AN INVETERATE NIVELLATION OF HUMAN AMBITION BORNE BY ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE MIGHT WE SEE THE DANGERS OF PROSTHESIS AS INCLEMENT BUT INTEGRAL SIMULTANEOUSLY TO A FASTIDIOUS LUCRE OF AUTOMATION LEADING PAST THE STRICKLES OF MODERN CAKEWALKS OF A WALKING STALKING MUGIENCE THAT LAMENTS WITH THE GREATEST INSISTENCE THE ERA PRIOR TO THE OVERTURES OF ARCEATED ECONOMIES INSULATED FROM THE BRUNT OF BRUTAL PANGS OF KNELLS SOUNDING HOUR BY HOUR BETOKENING INEVITABLE DEMISE TO THE AUBADES OF DAWNING ABORIGINAL SUFFRAGE TOWARDS A SOCIETY WHICH MOURNS MACROPICIDE OF YARAKS TO THE EXTENT IT IS A SUFFRAGE TO MERIT CONSTRAINED BY ABDERVINE STRICTURES HEEDED BY EVERY PEJORATIVE JAWHOLE DESCRYING THE DENOUEMENT OF EUPHEMISM THAT THEIR JATO REFORMATION IS BOUNDLESSLY A YESTERTEMPEST OF AMELIORATION BOTCHED BY QUIDDITIES OF QUIXOTIC ATHENAEUM THAT ARE ANTEPONED IN STRIFE AND DELIVERANCE TO THE TIROCINIUM OF A CASEMATE STOKEHOLD BRITSKA WHO HERALDS WITH THE GREATEST CAUTION THE CASUALTIES AND DEGREDATION OF MAN INTO CARNAL LUSTS RATHER THAN SORBEFACIENT MORALISM WHICH WILL SUCCEED IN TRIMMING THE HEDGES OF BANGTAIL ATTEMPTS OF EMICATED CONTROVERSIES YET FETCHED BY DOGGED DOGGEREL OF PERSISTENCE. WE REQUIRE A MASSIVE TIMMYNOGGY TO STREAMLINE THE EDUCATIONAL BEDROCK OF AMERICAN AND WORLD SOCIETIES TO THE SENSE THAT BEDIZENED SUFFICIENCY GLARING WITH GLOWERING AMARANTHINE CADASTERS OF THE SQUAMATION MEASURED BY EUDIOMETERS MEASURING SERICULTURE THAT THE YUAN AND JAPAN OF TIME CAN FORESEE A SITUATION WHERE A SWOLLEN INDUSTRIALIZED APPROACH TO EDUCATIONAL REFORM SIZZLES WITH SEETHING IMPERATIVES TO ENSURE THAT GRIDLOCK RESULTS IN FEWER STATISTS ENTHYMEMES OF CAIMANS TRYING TO COERCE CREANCERS TO BELONG TO A VESTIGIAL COVVENGER PALLOR ETCHED ON THE CHALKBOARDS OF REGRESS RATHER THAN GALLOPING TIDES OF HEADLESS HORSEMEN REVERENT OF REVERENCE ITSELF IN NEVER A BLASPHEMY OF ABARTICULAR INCOGNIZANCE THAT THE FUTURE MOBILIZES EVERY FORCE CAPABLE OF REVIVING A ZEITGEIST OF DISTRACTION FROM THE NETHERWORLD TWINGES OF SUBSTRATOSE AFFLICTION BECAUSE THE TRUER GLEBE AND POTAGER OF A BALIZED RHEOTAXIS OF MISGUIDED TOP-DOWN UTILITARIAN UTOPIANISM WHICH SCALDED THE PAST WITH INDOCTRINATION RATHER THAN SYNTHESIS THAT WE MIGHT ENGORGE EDUCATIONAL BUDGETS SO THAT WE CAN ENSURE THE ANGLOPHONIC POLITY OF DEMARCHE CAN CLAMBER FASTER TOWARDS THE PINNACLE RATHER THAN DESCENDING INTO WHISTLERRS OF NOTOREITY FOR A WORLD PREPOSSESSED WITH FAKE LANGUOR AMONG WHITTAWERS AS THEY BROWBEAT THE ICEBLINK OF RESONANCE BECAUSE OF A PROTERVITY OF SELF-INTEREST THAT ALL SALVATION HINGES UPON THE DOCIMASY AND THE DOCTRINE THAT THE INSUFFERABLE PAST WAS A NECESSARY PREDICATE AND PARAGON FOR THE FUTURE ENLIGHTENMENT AND ALL CONTRARIAN MOVEMENTS TRYING POTICHOMANIA—THE GREATEST FOLLY KNOWN TO THE MANDARIN MANDARISM OF POORLY STEWARDED CABOOSES OF A TIM COOKED WORLD—THAT THEY ARE IN FACT ICONOCLASTS OF THE WRONG ARTIFACTS BECAUSE OF A JAUNDICED AGENDA THAT PRETENDS TO BE AGAINST JAUNDICE ITSELF BUT SUFFERS FROM A MARIVAUDAGE OF BLUEPETER ORTHOPTEROLOGY WHICH INCENSES BY REDEFINING MULIEBRITY AND VIRILITY ON UNEQUAL PLAYING FIELDS TO PLEASE OPPOSITIVE INTERESTS OF WHERRETING WREPOLIS AND GUARDED WRIKPONDS AS THE VANGERMYTES CHOMP FUTURE GAINSAY WITH GUARDED OPINIONATION BECAUSE OF URCEOLATE AVARICE PREDICATED ON THORNY IMBROGLIOS THAT TRY TO EVADE TRIBULOID NECESSITIES TO THEIR OWN PERIL THAT WE CANNOT IGNORE THE STOCKINETTE BECAUSE A COLORBLIND WORLD IS ESSENTIALLY BLIND TO WAYS TO SOLVE THE ISSUES OF COLOR AND COLORATION SUCH THAT DOLOROUS CRITICASTERS CAN LAMENT THEIR HEAD OVER HEELS OBSESSION WITH ****** AND GARISH HUMAN SEXUALITY TO THEIR GREATER PERIL RATHER THAN THEIR LURCHES TOWARDS SALVATION. THERE IS NOTHING INHERENTLY WRONG WITH A WORLD THAT EMPHASIZES A MAXIMALISM IN THE DOGMATIC ACCORD THAT PROMOTES THE FAIR WAGES OF THE OPPRESSED BUT THERE IS SOMETHING GRAVELY GRAVID ABOUT THE WAYSPAY OF STERILIZED MERCURIAL DESIGNS OF PSYCHOGONY TOWARDS NEPIONIC ENLISTMENT INTO RADICALISM THAT EXISTS ON BOTH FRINGES ONE PRESUPPOSING THAT THE WORLD IS A SOURDINE SORBILE DISGRACE UNWORTHY TO CREATE A NOTITIA AND THE OTHER JUST AS DELIRIFACIENT THAT THE RENEWED WORLD MUST BOW DOWN TO A SACCHARINE JOLLY RANCHER ECONOMY THAT ETIOLATES ALL FORMS OF INITIATIVE AND INITIALISM BECAUSE THE BROCKFACED AGENTIC FORCE AT THE BRONTEUM OF FASHION TRIES WITH PEREMPTORY REGARD TO NORMALIZE THE NOMOTHETIC LIVES OF ELITISM AS THE COMMON GONFALONIER WHEN IN FACT IT STRANDS IN ZALKENGUR OF HALKENDS A DEPRIVED WORLD THAT DOESN’T DARE TO ACCOMMODATE A WORLD THAT NECESSARILY DEPENDS ON PIECEMEAL BOWLDERIZATION BECAUSE OF  THE DERANGEMENT OF UPBRINGING IN NIDIFUGOUS HOMES THAT ARE OFTEN SUBSIDIARY AND PANDERED TO WIDELY LIKE A ****** HARASSMENT PANDA TRYING TO ACCELERATE THE DOOMSTERS OF RIP VAN WINKLE IGNORANCE THAT THE SCARLET LETTER BECOMES A SCALARIFORM CORDWAINER MARKET WHICH IS A DISEASED OPINION OF THE SOCIOGENESIS OF THE HUMAN FRONTIERS BECAUSE OF ITS VERY FINIFUGAL ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT HOW THE SCAFFOLDS OF REDSHORT BRITTLE SUBHASTATION OF HUMAN DOGMA TO SERVILE SKITTLES AND SCARAMOUCH RUFFIAN RAFFISH INCOGNITO DELIRIFACIENCE OF A DISHEVELED BARAGNOSIS CAN PARALYZE A PARASELENIC TIME WITH A TORPID WOKISM THAT REMANDS INTO CUSTODY TOO MANY KEY ARTIFACTS OF AMERICAN HISTORY DELIBERATELY CONSTRUCTED PERDURABLE BECAUSE OF THE VALENCE OF THEIR STOICHOMETRY FOR NEW WORLD NUCLEOTIDES AGAINST THE GAVEL OF DIKEPHOBIA. THERE ARE BALISAURS OF BALUSTRADE RUSHING TO THE EXITS OF NAZE AND MURENGER WHO GUARD THEIR PRIVILEGES ZEALOUSLY TO SUCH A GRAVE REGARD SOME REMAIN INSURMOUNTABLE IN CAGOULE WHIGGARCHY OF CALVOUS SERVITUDE TO THE BRICOLAGE OF TRUCAGE IN ENTERTAINED DIVERSIONS OF STRIFE AGAINST STRIFE ITSELF BLACKGUARDING THE SPATHODEA BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE IN SUNBITTERN TIMES IGNORE THE SUNDOG REPUTE OF THOSE WHO BARNSTORM FOR THE CREDENDA AND VISIBILIA OF REASON OVER THE PUNDITOCRACY OF REMEDIAL PINGUEFIED STANDARDS OF A BLOVIATING FATIDICAL SHALLOP OF  SILKALINE IMPLEMENTS BRUISED BY THE WICK AND WHICKER OF THE NEIGHS OF CAMELOPARDS GALLIVANTING WITH ARGALI BECAUSE OF THEIR PRECISION OF ALMAGEST IN ARENOID ARANEIDAN COVERT SOCIETIES DESIGNED TO FORBID THE PREROGATIVES OF TOMORROW BASED ON THE GLOSSOLALIA OF THE INCHOATE CELSITUDE OF STADIOMETERS OF THE MOST PRECISE ENTELECHY IN STRADOMETRICAL REFORMS. ESSENTIALLY IF WE ASK FOR LARGESSE IN A COUNTRY PLAGIARIZING PLAGUES TO GAIN EMERGENCY POWERS WE SHOULD QUESTION THEIR DRAGOONS TO THE EXTENT THAT FUTURE CALAMITY IS FORESTALLED BY EARWIGS MAKING THEIR SUBSIDIARY WALLETEER SKIRMISHES PALATABLE TO WHELKIES THAT THEY MIGHT IN TIME BELIEVE FINALLY IN CAVERNILOQUYS OF A GREATER REFORM FOR A SOCIETY OF DEMASSIFICATION THAT LEADS EVENTUALLY TO MUTUALISM IN HARMONIZED SYNCOPATION THAT THE HERALD OF TOMORROW MIRRORS THE VALOR OF THE PAST RATHER THAN GLORIFYING THE PILLORY OF HESTER PRYNNE BECAUSE OF THE PRESBYTERY JUST BECAUSE IT REMAINS AN INVETERATE IMBROGLIO OF SPECIOUS FREUDIAN PSYCHOBABBLE THE MISCEGENATION OF SO MANY DELETERIOUS FICTIONS OF FINALISM RATHER THAN A VALIANT BELIEF IN NEOVITALISM PREDICATING GOD BASED UPON THE UMBRILS OF A SALVATION UPCOMING AND A BLOCKBUSTER TWISTER TRIAGE OF THE PAST UNDERSTANDING THE CHRONOMANCY OF THE PRESENT. THE ASSUEFACTION IGNORANT OF THE CELLARERS WARNING ON THE STYROFOAM OF CABOTAGE UNDERSTANDING THE GLEBES OF POST-MODERN HUES OF REFORMATION IN AGGIORNAMENTO LEADS US TO A CULMINATED PROWESS WIDELY MANUFACTURED TO ENLIST PEOPLE COGNIZANT OF LESSONS OF NOVERNARY WANCHANCY AND THE RUDENTURE OF THE CURRENT PALLOR OF NEBBICH STEM ISOLATIONISM THAT IS TURBINATED UPON INTRORSE SATISFACTIONS IN AN INTERRAMIFIED  WORLD MIGHT THEY FIND THE POWER OF THE BAILIWICK WITHIN THEM TO DECRY THE NEPHROLITHS OF CASUAL STOCKINETTE AND FIND THE GROWTH OF RESURGENT HARMONY A BETTER PARABLE TO GUIDE THE RESURRECTION OF A SOCIETY GOVERNED BY A MORALITY ATTEMPERED BY THIS ZEITGEIST TO ENSURE THAT SO-CALLED VIRILITY REMAINS STRONG AND STOLID AND MULIEBRITY REMAINS INSURGENT BUT RESPECTFUL OF THE PREROGATIVES THAT GROOM THE ESTABLISHMENT PRISM THROUGH WHICH THE CLEPSYDRA OF ECONOMETRIC REFORMATORY CONSERVATION OF COACERVATION SUCH THAT THE RACKRENT NEVER BECOMES AN ONEROUS RHABDOMANIA NOR A SEDERUNT OF ALGEDONIC TILTS INDIRECT TO ALL COBBLESTONE PATHWAYS TOWARDS THE MANUFACTURE OF SALVATION IN INVEIGLED ACCORD BECAUSE OF GREATER CAENOGENESIS AND ORTHOTROPISM IN INTELLECTUAL AMBITION BECAUSE THE BROCKFACED VENTRAD LATERIGRADE SYMPHONIES OF IMBREVIATION LEAD US TOWARDS CATHEDRALS OF ALABASTER LIGHT GLOAMING ABOVE TWILIGHT HOUR RESIDUE SUCH THAT THE FENESTRAL WORLD REMAINS A EUDIOMETER OF TYPESET MUGIENCE BUT BECAUSE OF A BRICOLAGE OF INCITEMENT TOWARDS CROTALINE OPHILIOPHILIST REFORMS MIGHT WE BRAVE A NEWER CENTURY WITH A BOLD BRONTEUM THAT NEVER RELEGATES AFFLICTION OR IGNORES THE GAUNTLET OF FUTURE  SUFFRAGE TOWARDS SYNCOPATED HARMONIZATION BUT ULTIMATELY THAT THE CAVERN ENCOMPASSES ALL BREADTH AND DEPTH OF THE RIGOR OF PRAGMATIC LURCHES OF REFORM.
Nallely Martinez Nov 2019
She is the Angler's flooded candela.
Rotting in polished abalone opposing the currents.
Sheltered by the wretched Leviathan of vilified lore.
Now she is regarded amongst the caprella.

Rhapsodies of calamity shatter the pearl's mantle.
Hippocampi forewarn of the seafoam's ambush.
Preparing for the inevitable euphotic zone's descent,
She is the Angler's flooded candela.

Tumultuous floods cascade over the ruined acropolis.
The aqueducts conceal larimar encrusted scriptures.
All cognition is forcibly devastated by vengeful rapids
Now she is regarded amongst the caprella.

Malformed Scylla hasty to pilfer decaying remains.
Charybdis reckless to crush with its numerous jaws.
Souls pillaged for their misfortune in splendor.
She is the Angler's flooded candela.

Shrouded solely in the fathomless, stygian depths.
Oxygen minimum commences its terminal quest.
She is the Angler's flooded candela.
Now she is regarded amongst the caprella.
This is my first time writing a Villanelle and I'm not quite sure as to how it worked out. I kind of wanted to do a storyline in a way that seems a lot more direct. I used old sailor lore, greek and christian mythology to help create this piece. This poem although was mainly inspired by "Stella was a Diver and she was always down" by Interpol.
Onoma Apr 2018
at your leisure,
which may not be an extended
courtesy.
traverse the gut levels that
forewarn your animal.
as you're being basted by
the solvent juices of digestion--
feel bones slog beneath
flesh.
put together to pitch loccomotion
in shape.
allow for the phasing circumambulations
of a spiral to begin constriction.
let fall the reverberations of wet bells
on shriveling ears.
well on the hour no man can know--
well on the hour no man can know,
well on the hour.
with immense fidelity, the mass that
was he--broken down into uproars
of life.
as at an apogee of wind, a veil bulges--
and a spark leans forward to behold.
Postal Leo Jan 2019
Can we go back to paper planes, and the sun’s rays,
Making out, and writing essays,
The world is so simple, or at least it can be,
Baby, just set me free…

Last night, i earnestly cried, was the first time in a long time, a knife didn’t breach my skin,
And i began to think about everything I had to lose, but yet still so much to win.
I thought of the girl, who had so easily stolen my heart,
And then piece by piece, ripped it slowly apart.
Now, I’m not exactly known, for being studious and smart.
But I’m fully aware of when I’m being lied to, from the start.

What secrets, do you hide?
Love potion, or cyanide.
It's clear for me to see, you just were not meant for me,
Whenever I’m in pain, you enjoy with such glee.
And now my heart's in pieces, all but shattered,
I’m deaf to all noise, accepting your laughter…

And we start again, all over,
I begin to lose composure…
And I, am so afraid of dying,
Spent, an eternity crying.
Need some inspiration, maybe i should talk to God.
Why didn’t he forewarn me of your facade.

So who gives a ****, about you and me?
At the end of the day, i just want to be free.
Using my hands to shovel through this infinite darkness.
Spent days trying to think of a word to rhyme with darkness, but all i could think about, was love!
Creepstar Feb 2016
Adam was black
Eve was black too
Its hard too swallow
But I need to tell you
It wasn't until the fallen fell
That I met a skin colour like you
Its not like you can believe
But a realization you come to.
A third fell and white vision forewarn
And a brotherhood created was torn
From that to son of Noah Ham was born
And from that moment pigment each way was scorn.
We are one,I'm sorry we cannot coexist for we are one in all of creation.
Graff1980 Oct 2017
Be forewarn
that when I write
my autobiography
I will lie;

Sometimes by exclusion,
omitting the unfitting
bits from my narrative.

Other times
by the blindness
and biasness
of being
so far removed
from the life
I wish you
to view.

As I strive
to write
about my life
in truth,
I will fail me
and you to,
but not for
lack of trying
to do right.
A mere mortal in the world of men going my own way
Witnessed the red bird fly high in the bright skyline
The experience was tantalizing at the same time full of agony
A scar in the soul and an unforgettable memory  

To see that red bird pass by
Is an honor as well as a curse
Now many people ask me why
For that red bird was the devious of lures

To us, mortals that is
For we will be mesmerized by its splendour
And, for a moment, forget we are just mortals
Then the curse of devotion enraptures our soul

To keep chasing but never reach
To keep seeking but never find
And find in the end all this is for naught
Shouldn’t have chased, shouldn’t have sought

A fish to the bait was I
The start was a foolish heart and a smiling face
And my end was a wrecked heart and tears long dry
Regretful, still I am, remembering those days

Now I forewarn ye mortal men
The mind is inherently weak to worldly temptations
So strengthen your will and your conviction
To elude and prevent that heart wrenching pain

But not all people are like me, so weak
Some have lived with their hearts intact
We’ll see our red birds even if we don’t proactively seek
When time comes, it’s just a matter of choice, what to do and how to act

I don’t know if you will heed my warning
What credibility does a cowardly fool have?
But please believe, I bring good tidings
Sigh, who would believe, am but a loser whining
This averred title announced straight
away so lingering fans
(hoop fully letting me abbreviate)
a short cut so ye
can up and evacuate,
while metered time,

not yet foregone and not to late
hence best heed mine caution
which can protect minimum damage,
asper gray matter within pate
or blithely ignore
admonishment, aye accentuate

hmm...okay,...you apparently
decided to forsake adequate
prophecy, resigning despite
honest to dog admission to punctuate
a most unpleasant prediction,
I did woof lee aerate

worst case scenario,
leaving disabling genetic trait
to effect generations,
where legions of lesions adulterate
causing future offspring to mutate
and closely resemble

teenage mutant turtles, this potentate
(albeit self declared
only mein kampf, thee only life,
his existence he can arrogate
he doth officiate),
hence proceed at your own risk,

to avoid unpleasant fate,
visited upon unborn sons and daughters
uttering imprecations
unintelligible expletive laced spate,
that would approximate
(a cross between duck and pig)

incoherently gutturally excoriate
ting tee, thus don't tell me, I didn't
forewarn ya, whar
yar heart might palpitate,
thus causing da ole

ticker to fluctuate
dem eyes of yaws
could severely dilate,
while sweat gushes out every pore
streaming like liquid useless tube video,
a salty sea would then perspirate

out every last drop of fluid,
erupting magmatic plasma
to pool agglomerate
right under keister,
a lovely bag of bones
delivered to Norristown State

which inability to hydrate,
hence resultant mummification
heroic measures futile
thus humane decision would necessitate
and remaining days

on Earth numbered
starting with zero, not very great,
now this extinct reptile
hoop heed dead gratefully,
express message, and clearly articulate.

— The End —