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ZT May 2016
Everyone started of as a loser
Just freeloading,in the womb of their mother
It's fine to be a loser
If someone calls you that, don't bother
Cause we were all born as losers

But never be contented
It's not the life you are intended
Its okay to be a loser
But you should strive to be a winner.
Everybody can't be a winner, but everybody can try.
Riq Schwartz Jun 2014
Feel too much

and
if you find folly in those
freeloading fascist hacks
who tell you to write prose
or shoot photography,
tell them to take notes
      -a mental picture-
because you're headed off to the heart;
Taking back roads through
the bile of memory
to touch what it might just mean
to be.
Journalists content to watch.
Sojourners just might find.
A poet will be your guide.

Feel too much.
Please know that I do love our prose-bound brothers and sisters, and I married a photographer. I'm simply embellishing to help the thing earn it's title, as it were.

Inspired by/in response to "Feeling Too Much" by Alyanne Copper
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/754305/feeling-too-much/
Sir B Jan 2014
That's what I have become

If you just suddenly stop talking
and then you realize that you have hurt me
you show up to apologize profusely
yes, i understand
but I know why you left
and i know you have things to attend to
that's why i don't take it to the heart
but everyone just apologizes

I understand
I really do
I don't want to become a burden for anyone
where you have to apologize
every. time.

I feel being a burden
and i don't like that feeling

I hate being someone who is freeloading
or not contributing to the effort
I don't want to be a burden
I can carry tremendous loads
I have enough intelligence to detect
me being a burden
just
please

Don't keep apologizing profusely
I understand your reasons
It was partly my fault for not replying
which is why you left
You shouldn't apologize
I should!
Just a rant, and me being me, committing mistakes and forgetting things way too often.
You took the dinner knife
that we ate with,
and you spit-shined it
with obscenities.

You stabbed my "freeloading"
back.  

And I let it fester a wound,
before I pulled it out with my
bottom-feeder
claws;
the same claws that
shed splinters in the
woodwork of our
hardships.

My bleeding knuckles,
bare-*****, and filthy,
without the pennies
to wash them off,
couldn't heal fast enough
to stitch your
paper apologies to your
glass expressions.  

Then, the house that "you built",
the house in Hypocrite Pit,
burned slowly,
like the lamp light
that flickered after dinner.
First draft of an emotional poem.  Betrayal is a sick feeling.

Edited formatting and grammar.  11/11/2012
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2017
which makes sense eating an english breakfast
at 2a.m., and then whining:
where's the sunrise, and business of day?
but i do love how certain people can extract
a narrator out of me, a potential to be as such,
capable to exfoliate. and in my own secret
space i am milking the she-goat,
and i mean: that's quasi-Hindu given the lack of
vegetarian experts...
      i mean: having been
most benevolently excavated from placebo solipsism
a cure to experiencing schizophrenia,
i find the crowd once again, but that doesn't mean
i'm writing from a crowded scene...
i'm simply devoid of commuter squabbles, let alone
those prancing arcades of blinking lights that
are known as the protestor crowds...
   i sorta of don't get that scene...
i just don't see the need the rush for the commotion...
  wait... let me get my banner...
(enter snigger) -  i'd be more handy with a
kalashnikov or a molotov dead-end
that i will ever be.. sheep-shy-sheep-bound
to hoister a banner:
    i just think repetition is a bit of a dead
given samples in music, and how you can re- re- refresh
      on the scratched-vinyl altar...
(how a noun for again: in Latin,
  became shortened to a prefix re-, so that
it could be made into an adequate "grapheme"
builder to note things like: resaid, regained....
without it: on crutches, alone)...
maybe i'm not even zeitgeist,
and wouldn't that be a real worry for me...
   i'd start seeing the vietnamese
nail nuns... asking that it becomes hard, acrylic...
   feline grr... scratch that *******'s
scalp into an Ed Gein mask...
oh sure... the jokes are free from this point.
but i just *** it away,
farting like a zeppelin...
              and really, language could never
be poetic and alphabetical at the same time...
that bogus bow-tie bachelor of bloom
would never help to solve the daffodil's lack
of bloated turkey in april debate for
one Frenchman's vision of
         caging a > / < b...
                 subsequently c... no one new
whther a > b or whether a < b...
were either a < b or b > a? to later state a c?
talk to a greek: he won't know what the hell
you're talking about...
why is why greek didn't employ siamese
principles regarding vowels to expose
          the difficulty, of coupling consonants
into covert-graphemes... phi non-vs. theta, e.g.
perhaps ratio *******? a : b : c...
no? it's a lot to ask for when there's no real punctuation
to be sordid about... i already stated:
   how the Romans cut up words
isn't exactly how the Greeks cut them up...
  when you cut up a word
the roman way, you work from the principle
of a grapheme... or the φoνoς,
beginning with æ - some might call that
as merely: tongue tied, or tongue numbed...
ello ello... but there's a clear sound...
apart from the sounds encrusted in h, w, y...
     but it's exactly what the doctors ordered,
given they become sort of truant with
the Hippocratic oath...
   the φoνoς finally belongs parallel to the
Heraclitus λoγoς...
based upon the sole prime of how individual sounds
were noted...
i.e. it had to mean something, so Heraclitus
was looking for "the" word, only because
individual greek letters were giving a noun
status, rather than a sound status... there was
no φoνoς principle in the greek alphabet...
letters weren't mere sound units, they had the status
of nouns, which is why they became pivots
for keeping them as such, in a hierarchy of
optical superiority above the Roman encoding,
ranging from mathematical or chemical coordinates...
which is why the Greeks have no good music
these days: well, apart from rotting christ...
and aphrodite's child...
          the Greek tongue has no idea of a grapheme,
(μ, ν, ξ and π don't even come close...
  the grapheme principle needs a siamese graphic:
the cited examples would require
   a siamese of opposite sexes... and since i haven't seen
such an example... i beg to differ)...
there's no siamese entity in it, there's no æ...
nothing Greek is explicit in sound,
which is why i guess the lisp comes from...
they're eating custard every time i hear them talk
or whistling via a pigeon feather turned into
a flute... ****** fla fla... falaffel and theta cheese...
oh but there is, it exists in the realm
of consonants and vowels... rather than among
vowels, exclusively...
      but that is why Heraclitus invented the λoγoς...
he contemplated the λoγoς because he couldn't
see the φoνoς, given that α couldn't
be taking a seat in dentistry and saying ah...
   or that φ couldn't just end with phi...
but had to lead onto a complexity of φlosophy...
and god... look at the mutilation of aesthetics
with that one! the λoγoς isn't that enigmatic as it appears,
old, dusty and about 3000 years revised too late...
  not with what the Roman caricature of
the λoγoς actually is... a, b, c, d...
or how close proximity deviating from the λoγoς
makes the φoνoς pop out...
  why / i              y / why
                               see / c
        b / be
                              a / aye / i / huh?
     t / tea                     p / ***
                      q / queue / cue...
     this is the limitations of the φoνoς...
  and only with the φoνoς being presented will
Heraclitus ever find the λoγoς, that might
suggest to him: α, will never have to be suffixed
with -λφα: cue -λθα.
- the reason why he concenptualised it
is because Greek gave restrictions on how
the phonos could be constructed...
   it couldn't! it revolves around the Greek alphabet
being noun-based... logoístic... rather than
pure phonetic carrying the ideal shrapnel...
       Heraclitus thought up the logos
for the sole reason that Greek stated
α as αλφα... rather than αλθα... or merely α
(and then you'd sing the rest, say #a)
hence the concept of the logos... but not the phonos...
because even if α or β could attain a status
of being a grapheme... both would forever remain
a noun... a word: rather than a sound-unit...
or as the moderns like to call them: sound-bits...
only because of the roman concept of
a grapheme does this arise from: the æ
testmanet of an Adam and Eve, clearly making
******-***** differentiation appealing...
so a return to the thesis of androgony?
  what, make the world siamese?
you ******* kidding me?
listen, the only problem about being genius
in poetry is that: well... there aren't any shortcuts...
you want to write narrative like exponents,
but you are writing something that's to be read
standing up, like watching a canvas in an art
gallery... this isn't reading a Tolstoy reclining
in bed, the counter to turning on the radio and
listening to music to fall alseep...
   i can't simply destroy the narrative principle
that poetry is also prone to...
    and trying to provide the equivalent of
a mathematical proof / equation in purely
linguistic symbology, will eviidently mean i'll be prone
to spaghetti / digression...
     for example stating a + in language is really
a problem as to how you can comprehend me when
i write: i see a an auburn flame of a setting sun...
      is that only one + or many in that sentence?
   educated as a chemist, son of a roofer...
  am i really middle-class ponce concerning this?
do i ******* look like i'm gearing up for a tea-party?
   basics... well, better a summary than
giving a vanity project to this narrator...
poets indeed are anti-novelists: there aren't
any characters in their works,
the only thing more numerous in poetry than
characters in a novel... are the narrators...
   Heraclitus spoke about the logos working from
α = alpha...
   i'm speaking about the phonos working from
a = a multitude of sounds...
             which is why they revised this *******
alphabet with the NATO of alpha romeo...
     zulu and i should probably state: *******...
   that's the whole principle of the phonos...
to work back to the logos...
         and since Heraclitus is a bit vague about
the logos in itself...
      it has to come down to Hippocrates talking
about freeloading on ***** when
   you receive cancer's foetus and try to alleviate the pains.
Antony Glaser Apr 2014
The local duchess of importance
is the bag lady
she loiters unsatisfied
the rain is a ****** loss
it ruffles her hair
kept in place by rusting clips,
whatever goldmine
she was enamoured with
was swept away in the torrent,
she's more than partial to gain
but cannot recall dancing with a
forty niner
or freeloading in the blaze.
Classy J Jul 2016
Yeah, I've rhymed about how my life aint equal or fair, and i've talked my experience living in this toxic atmosphere. A lot don't care, but problem is that I do, searching for answers to life, and wondering what I should do. Free spirit that delivers thy message onto you, so you can try to figure out the real you. I've talked about how no matter where you are on the spectrum it is flawed, and if there is even a God. I don't know I'm just broken trying to find the golden token to a free pass, and I hope for my prayers to be answered every time I get my **** out of bed to attend sunday mass. I read about so many different faiths, listening to believers even though I may not understand everything thing that they saith. But Forget it, even though I want to get it, I must accept it. I may never know why, I may never know who to believe, because humans are known to deceive. Misconceptions, propaganda, telling me to believe in their all knowing, loving, and powerful commanda.

What if we deserve the fate we've brought to this world, or maybe this is all one big simulation or dream world. I don't know man, I'm just like alice falling down the rabbit hole, I have no control, plummeting hopefully towards my goal. Am I just delirious, wondering why these deep issues make some uncomfortable or furious? Wondering what my purpose is, blackening out as if it were a surprise pop quiz. But it just is what it is, but nobody cares, how come we have to wonder why the worlds in so much disrepair? Obscure the once normal small world, restore order without invoking fear, clear the unclear and help those that are still unsure. Nature will persevere through guidance and affection, because a healthy environment provides protection to the natural selection. We don't have to stay infected by all the lie's, because it'll eat away us like we simon from the lord of the flies. Eww... but seriously think about it dude, it's just apart of what i bring to the table with my honest hitting sequel to my classy interlude.

Change your thinking, change your attitude, so that you may find oneness with yourself, so that you will no longer have a incoherent mood. Don't mind me brewing my queries and theory's, I'm just like tech n9ne because I have an evil brain and a angel heart to finish this series. Don't come near to me, for I am not thinking to clearly, nevermore will I fear thee. Flip the switch, not supposed to be here like i'm a glitch. Work hard cause I live to be the best, try to take me down but I will never rest till I **** the pest. I confess that I'm strange, rearranging my life so that I can reverse the game and trap the vermin's in the cage.  Don't know how to start, finding myself going in loops, it's like life has turned into mario kart. Trapped and compelled to speak death, because my nice side is all but deserted and i'm starting to lose my breath. Lost time and I lost patience with all these patients that don't know me, even though they say we homies, ***** you guys, you are nothing but a bunch of phoney cronies. Have a message, got to stress it, so don't mess with it, you got it? Boy you don't know anybody like me, ***** being classy, I'll shoot all you down like i'm the gosh **** KGB. 

 No freeloading from me, like I said before I'm a broken soul who just longs to be free. It's not just the government and society, even though they continually lie to me. No it's more than that, it's like this whole planet is about to have a heart attack. Polluting all the air, polluting all the clean water, wondering when humanity started to falter? It's our own d* fault though, but we don't admit to it, we just sit there fondling our *****, thinking we discrete when we doing it. That's just foolishness, whether or not you acknowledge it, at the end of the day all our deeds don't mean s*. We are no more than a misdemeanour, putting on a front, we like to think we different, even though in reality we stink more than a skunk. Oh mister Classy J you need to chill out dude, because the populous can't handle all your conniving honesty you be spitting in this second interlude. Haha fool, why do you think I care? Why do you think I would change? I warned since the beginning that I was deranged.

I will say what I have to say, I promise that I will no take your opinions to heart any day.I giving yawl a choice to listen, now it's up to you to make your own decisions. Oh right I forgot, that the society that we living in can't let us be different, otherwise we get labelled, making fun of us until we can't handle it anymore and hang ourselves with a cable. ***** all you dinguses, you think you can just say to us that we just have kiss your ****, and think that we'll pucker up because you also promised us a sucker? Oh no no no that's not how this game will go, because that is not how I roll, you pansies are so pitiful. Future has no class because of the past we left for them, because we were too greedy and needy, expecting everything in life to be crème de la crème. Truth hurts but I hope that this rap will help you see that we are all to blame, but that we can still change before it's to late to undo the outcome of this rigged game.
am i good or old?
I am a liar
seeking truth.
A hermit traveler
freeloading on
souls.
I need sleep
but hate
watching
my crazy dreams
roll by.
I am hungry
and
would eat your
heart
in order
to better
understand you
and
care more than  the
size of my hand's
capability.
© 2013 Austin Stephenson
Francie Lynch Dec 2017
I don't laugh, gawk and point
At one who falls down;
Unless that one's a clown,
And we've plenty to go around.
Crusty's in the Kremlin,
He's got an act with dogs;
Freddie's in the U.N.,
Freeloading from his friends;
Bozo's in a big white house,
And I'm bent with tears laughin'.
Freddie: Freddie the Freeloader, a Red Skelton clown.
Vast unwanted prairies hovering on mediation techniques,
The primary and secondary sources exist,
A well-spoken dialogue isn’t contemporary for you,
To want a Trinity amplifies organization,  
The 5 love languages foreshadow “limited warranty”

Stomping elderberries while consuming champagne,
A 300-watt incandescent light bulb allows me to gaze through the negative of you,
Honeysuckles enthrall lucky moths,
Clones materialize formal breeding,
Standard, Somatic, React, Receive to Receive, and Idiom

Fantasying a gloomy unpredictable picnic for 2021’s lineup,
Freeloading basic cable complicates structure,
How would I consistently reboot without revolving doors?
How would the emergency signs operate without Pantone's?
Oozing tension, the adrenal cortex working overtime, and I lack a spine
Justin S Wampler Nov 2021
It was when time didn't exist.
We threw out the clocks,
and I didn't own a watch.
Couldn't keep time for ****.
It was when we tossed it all aside
for a drunken night drive
up and down the twisted skids.

We were an ode to recklessness,
a bitter song of youth.
We were truth,
we were soaked with it.
I focused on getting lit,
and not giving a ****
about anything beside
having a good ******* time.
We were the New Street crew,
the spot was only one room
but we had the bunk beds
and still pulled ******* too.

Both getting paid out,
at least until
the unemployment ran out
even then we still
kept on keeping on,
listening to those same ****** songs.
In that same ****** room,
ripping the same ****** bongs.
We were brothers back then.
We were brothers.

Clocks came back, life found us hidden.
I was waking up with burns on my skin.
I was waking up without anything
to keep me from going at myself again.
He saw that dread,
that the bitter voice in my head
always painted on my face
and it turned into a race.
A race to the end for me,
a race to be gone for him.
He was my brother,
and I was a freeloading *******.
Rebecca Oct 2020
A microscopic pathogen's
epic odyssey,
started his quest
of comradery,
across many lands
beyond the seven seas.

Vincent the Virus
but you can call him Vinnie
holding luggage full of tricks,
with mutations of plenty.

On a cruise ship, he sailed
and planes he did fly;
freeloading his way,
from travelers passing by.

Ashes to ashes
and host to host.
A viral sensation
from coast to coast.

Becoming famous
virtually overnight,
collapsing economies,
tripping lymphocytes.
A project I'm working on for a children's book to educate kids on how a virus is spread and how to practice prevention of it spreading. The main character is Vincent. Vinnie only wears tailored suits and smokes Cuban cigars. He is a culture snob, he has a taste for the finer things in life and lives to travel. He is a risk to public health due to his inability to stay in one place. Enjoy!
Aditya Roy Jul 2019
The freeloading leader
Kept his ticket
For the ferry of freedom
Steve Matthews Sep 2021
Dear God-Fearing, Pro-Life Evangelicals,

This is why you held your collective noses
and voted for a ******, corrupt, creepy,
money laundering, freeloading,
traitorous sociopath. Your fat, ugly,
***** grabbing, Putin-loving ******
came through for you. Congratulations!
I can't focus on us anymore
it feels like a dream we once had
rather than a lifetime we worked on

You once made me feel precious,
invaluable,
loved.

Now I'm the fall back and safety net
you need to desire
before you hit the bottom of your bottle

I am miserable trying to hold the foundation alone.
I was looking for a life partner, not a freeloading liar.
You promised me change.

I was the fool who believed you and saw with my own eyes
you didn't touch a drop.
Now I'm left with the empty bottle in my hands,
searching for an escape from my isolation.
raw emotions from recent relationship in the middle of the break down.

— The End —