"gazette" poems
The immense striking letters
of the gazette’s front page
make me almost cross-eyed
My mind is going to explode
in the images I have seen in the television
Boom!
When will the politicians
be weary in stealing
the wealth of the country?
Millions of pesos were caught
in the centre of the golden sea
Can we only find it from other countries?
Is that the main reason
why Filipinos are migrating:
to find source of much bigger income?
I am thinking about them
together with their bosses
with heavy iron hands
I believe crime rate is escalating...
...the crime that can grab you
24 hours a day
Can we still smell the tainted odor
of pictures of the street children...
children who beg for a piece of bread?
Mr. President, where is the promised straight road
you are pointing at?
Why can’t we see it?
Is it crooked?
Why is it that these are
the ONLY stuffing of rumors?
Why can’t we focus onto a bigger
and wider problem of our country
and even around the world?
Perhaps above all issues,
this is the only concern
that is not yet trending in Twitter
So, I just boasted it to my open-mouthed puppy...
“If I will be the President of the Philippines,
I will focus first on ENVIRONMENTAL ISSUES.”
Suddenly, Bruno’s saliva dripped.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 3:52 AM UTC
I adore you
With your forward brow,
Eyes of nightshade and black treacle.
Your image floats and unfurls in the ****** spaces
Between marks posed in gazette.
You stare back at me knowingly,
Cunningly,
As though watching the course of my life unfold.
You have stretched your hand through time
To let it fall in a cold gust across these pages,
Betwixt the folds of my cerebrum,
Your spectral lips prompting faintly
In the nook behind my ear.
-O goddess, O muse!-
O fellow soul…
You have found me.
Jan 14, 2018
Jan 14, 2018 at 7:29 PM UTC
Luna Tickle eats only pickles and ***** up all the brine
When her brother tells their mother she begins to whine:
“Yes I did it! And left no tidbit
Is that such a crime? My brother smells and raises hell
And leaves the loo full of slime.”
Now their mother dear began to fear her children were obstructions
Never listening, since their christening, and wished for their abduction
So she planned a slaughter and called her daughter
Outside to the woodshed, then chopped her neck in two
She put Luna’s head in her brother’s bed and said,
“Now, they’ll be no more Boo-Hoos”
Now you know of Luna and her tragic ending
But there’s more to this rhyme that’s pending
For the Tickle name is quite insane
And was never worth defending
But that’s just what her brother did
When Mrs. Tickle met Judge Knuckle
And almost flipped her lid
Screaming:
“I never liked that kid from the day she began to suckle!
Why she couldn’t be more like me, or her lovely sister Tess”
Twas all Mrs. Tickle could confess that day to Judge and jury
Until brother **** chimed-in and confessed his sin
And did so in such a fury, it was heard throughout and within
The entire state of Missouri:
“I am Richard Tickle and do confess I am not fickle
In fact I am quite pugnacious
If you do not see the circumstances like me
I’ll be forced to be disputatious”
Interjects Judge Knuckle:
“Boy, I’ll have you buckled this instance to electric chair
If you’re not scared I’ll be splitting hairs
In a place where the sun does not shine
So if you care, you’d best beware
Or your Gherkin will be in a brine”
Now Tess screamed out and her mother did shout
In perfect unison:
**** is my love and none the likes of any other hooligan”
At this there was a scuffle
Each dame was muffed and ruffled
They could not contain
All their angst and their pain
And it led to the ugliest tussle
For each thought ****
Was devoted to she
And apparently, this could not be
As we know of the trouble with Luna
So the jury was not out
Or even in doubt
Of these sinister makings and troubles
It was the sickest of affairs
Mass-producing glaring stares
From everyone within the court
Missouri Gazette’s headlines that day
Told of how they did slay
And burn the Tickle chalet
Leaving it in incestuous rubble
The lesson today to this horrific ballet
Is don’t live your life in a bubble
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
Puking on a vest made of argyle
Passing out on kitchen tile
A checker board mattress after
Chatting with a girl, whose *** is fantastic
She's hotter than struck matchsticks
Playing chess with her chest
Moves are nothing short of the best
You can pull on 3 leaf clovers
But you can't push your luck
King me, Crown me, Get royally ******
I've got the wood she's got the chuck
How much?
Bedside Manner is enough
But she'd rather talk about being stuck like cassettes
With a useless boyfriend
And a ton of financial debt
Had I mentioned this was turning into a drag
Minus the cigarette
The size of a rolled telegram and gazette
Has it become clear yet
*I'm not looking at you
I'm looking past you*
Transparent
Like a ghost
It's apparent
I'm into you like a foreign host
It's hard to tell
When the air is hazy
She's blind to the fact
Like her eye is lazy
Choked on words that she never learned to chew
Why don't you call Sherlock, boo
Get yourself a Clue
Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 11:07 PM UTC
Go to five more unknown lands
Collect a talisman from everywhere
Then climb the steps to the quietest place
You will find your cherished wish there
Fully blossomed; Strobilanthes, the wonder
That blooms once every 12 years
In that quietest corner of the climb
When you find me- your treasure
Never come close to me,
For closer to the desire, I am different
Let me be the third talisman with the unfold magic
And, "thy shall not beret my indifference"
"But why you call me indifferent
Didn't you see the Gazette, off late?"
Life in her wide eyes darted through me...
"A decree was issued that you cannot
Feel Indifference unless I admit to it
Find your talisman- may be I am your unknown land"
Innate travel through time and mind zones;
Bereft of the sleep and the dreams, me-
Forgetting to remember me-self;
How can I remember to forget you?!
Don't put words into my mouth
You are the fifth talisman of an unknown land
December tells me "dart further and farther"
To unknown lands for talisman's blessings
" Get over the fence you made in these years
The fence cannot keep out, anyone willing
The fence cannot keep in, anyone wanting
The line you have drawn was in water...
So, here comes me, in search of the talisman
Off the fences, for you to invite and venture.
An year full of drum beat journey behind
In search of the quietest place of tranquil
Thank you December, the wind you blew,
I keep these in my heart and mind for ever
Turning inward for a new year of inner peace...
(All copy rights with the Author)
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 9:40 PM UTC
A passing moon and empty silhouette
keep me company this early morn walk,
their quiet company, a silent vignette.
A passing moon and empty silhouette
embrace longing of this hopeful gazette,
yet bid adieu to my faint solo talk.
A passing moon and empty silhouette
keep me company this early morn walk.
Jan 10, 2021
Jan 10, 2021 at 1:36 PM UTC
I took Fifth Street home last night—
two blocks back from the corner
store selling dry-mouth Camels
cheaper than the shop downtown.
Away from the newspaper boxes
selling the *Gazette, Times,
Tribune, Post, Weekly, Daily,
Whatever* for one dollar
and fifty cents a pop.
The crumbling sidewalks
took the glare of porch lights
and slid with 'em the length
of this rusted chain-link
fence spanning four yards,
three front doors, two
pipe railings, and a doghouse.
The ice salt sprinkled
from the stoops earlier that day
made the glasswalk melt
and bubble up, popping
like Christmas bulbs
beneath my shoes.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
we have scorpions
my wield has two eyes
i saw no bee
running my right hand
up the railing and
continues hurting..
the cunning man i am
i urinated on it
and that has stopped
there is some wisdom
in the old ways
***** is a natural
healing..
vi
rainy day scribe
would like to imbibe
sweet long ago youth
to kiss your red mouth
that soured wine
and screamed our
insane face..
i would look into your eyes
and tried not to
think of them
so much for
that no..
but i´ d be gone
it was the ****
and all that colors
when we got effed up
you saved your best insights
for our arguements
you brought me two black
kittens
i put you in bed and fed you
porrige
everyone complained
i went to the occasional party
but prefered the country
we see the cure..
i lived the country
we went to cinema
we saw the piano
you on the bus
me on my bike..
i enjoyed that forrest ride
cool in the morning
and out of the breeze
you with the haarlam gazette..
o twas a cold of a winter so
i might visit my friend fiet
who lived on a house boat
with so many cats and dog
and a chicken and geese..
we would have a cup of t
and looked at her photos..
when the canals froze
when at the sea side
or with a sweet cognac
and a pint of mild
heck my hand throb
and my heart too..
Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 8:49 AM UTC
Like a foolish boy I once
went looking for danger,
Learning of tall tales
then seeking them for myself.
The gazette speaks of a melding
between two celestial bodies.
*Don't gaze directly at it
no matter how sublime it may be.*
I have met the protagonist before
if even through tinted shields.
A lifelong rapport, yet is
hitherto a subtle stranger.
I braved a look yesterday,
to examine all the fuss.
Touched by your spell
as your visage fills my eyes.
Now when I blink I spot you
staring back with blue flame.
A face etched into the cave of
my sockets - your new home.
Forecast arrives, moon meets sun
as my anxiety sweats in my hand.
I don no lenses, for you are the
enticing stranger which I cannot fear.
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 2:10 AM UTC
I’ll look up and see a wasp
Or a bee, hunting around,
Ready to die.
Collaborations simplified in rivers abreast
Oh, the shores of Lethe are so delightful
With their ash marked eyes and solitude beggars
Potted plants of desiree, coal jutted shouts cross
Blanket crowds shoved in a bruised corner
With a madman screaming something about
Lasting generation and forced collaration.
See the basket cases? Claimed they were
From the devil, Dee did, muttering about kingdoms
and collard greens
With her stuffed, shrunk coat waddling round the
same Dickey’s, a corner from Westboro Baptist.
And kitty corner from the statues no one’s taking down
Cause Mr.White said nah son, that’s not right
As he bombed Bethel Baptist one more time.
And these shores are so delightful, don’t you see?
Harpooned sticks and scarecrows, oh sorry,
I meant social expectations, but who cares anyway?
Wondering why we all say “i want to die’,
Have you looked at the government mandating
People inhuman, or the money situation,
Should be on the news, but
No we here at Fox and CNN don’t believe that’s important.
Say, I don’t think we should have Onion headlines
On the New York Times.
So we say ‘i want to die’ and the Gazette tells us
it’s those **** video games again
or maybe it’s the stigma and lack of empathy from
The Powerful.
And you hear on the street,
“Weed’s ending this country,”
Sorry, I wanted a break from all this god **** noise
From a country pulling apart at the beaten seams
Of another unwritten book.
Anger, you’ll say, irrational, I’ll add,
But pointing at the statue in the park
And you wonder why all those wasps
And bees we look down on, the gerbils and
Hamsters
That we never pull a punch on
Why they escape through the way they know how,
Why, wouldn’t you too? But that’d require empathy, sir,
And apparently you lack more than morals, sir.
Look, there’s Dee, getting her collard greens
In her stuffy, shrunken jacket,
Round the corner from Dickey’s and cracked roads with
littered breezes blowing past cars open windows, honking and
brazen calls.
Welcome to the Lethe shores,
Don’t worry, you won’t remember a thing,
Slipped a bit of Liquid X in your alcohol.
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 10:05 AM UTC
Mach my words, that time travel aye
foresee (rather than being
at a stand still, nee frozen
analogous to cry
oh ja hen nicks, or more particularly
going backwards)
this chap doth espy
great breakthroughs,
asper similar advances this guy
i.e. myself witnesses quantum leaps I
learn (reading The University Of Penn Gazette)
the Burmese doctoral
engineering student Kai
Sir Von Wilhelm Harris
made profound advances within
advanced combined research
laboratory of rocket surgery
and brain science set my
mouth ajar
(with rivulets of drool spilling forth)
constructing a simple
to assemble gizmo (avail able
common household materials
rendered unto YouTube), and/or Cable
Comcast, Fios, Infosys, et cetera
which accidental discovery
automatically codified feign
top secret "FAKE" news to enable
boot (simply for formality sake)
code named Clark Gable
yet in reality (a faux veil of secrecy)
to con Vince sing lee
foster an inimitable
mystique, button truth
for general public to unzip noble
no red bull) knowable
handy escape to past or future
and essentially unlocked laudable
simple "household solution"
to become the latest craze
(synonymous with an ****** - manageable
minus addiction, conviction,
and excruciation viz zit operable
via needle marks of the masses
within a fortnight necessary
supplies sans quantifiable
while Das Donald Trump
could enact legislation satisfiable
knowing majority being
totally tubularly oblivious unalterable
measures permanently infringing on inalienable
rights such as life, liberty
and the pursuit of winnable pacification.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 2:20 AM UTC
dreamed that Current studio hired me
to design
a walkthrough of a ceiling-high,
openly grinning, paper mache pig's head:
the stable's entrance to tiny pens
packed with caged (paid)
human children
who passed out tiny buttons
enscribed with varying notes:
Please Help
They Did Not Ask Me
I Don't Want To Die
Can You Find My Mom?
I Can Do Math In My Head
Eat More Monkeys
Please Save Us
I Don't Want To Die
But it was an unpopular exhibit
The Oklahoman would not report it
The Gazette managed a story on page 9
Yet advertised Cane's Chicken on page 5
Rattlesnake Roundup is just a few weeks
away
And I have no clue how I could possibly
convey
The value of wild
life.
The degree of their
strife.
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 3:52 PM UTC
i'm in love with slow things. you are not so.
and i love you still. yes.
this is another poem. yes.
on your doorstep.
the minotaur
in your gazette
...
the back page
of Spring.
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 11:33 PM UTC
"In peace our nations unite"
...to do exactly what?
Wring our hands in horror?
Write to the Gazette?
Retreat to the safety of our invisibility?
The sanctuary of our silence?
Quiver, hidden in the doubtful safety of the masses?
Most people will do this,
lament the tragedy and let it slide with a shake of the head and a frightened, pious silence...
When in actual fact.....
what we all should do is take up the drum and beat it deafeningly, furiously...and together, roar our fury to the powers that be....
That they take up the sickle and pursue these creatures to the end of the earth and deal to them once and for all!
Amen
M.
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 1:47 AM UTC
Grant me witnessing all ‘round I go
Let me be uncomfortable
In my sadness
In my spite
In my veins our ancestors’ strife
Their oppression chiseled in depths
Of my subconscious—mayn’t I forget
In my every privileged sigh
In every nightmare’s death
And all of my trivial achievement
That their blood inks this gazette
That my soul echoes their last breath
For justice—mayn’t I
Move idly and yield
To transient relief
To false gods
To defeatism
That my heart numbs
To the cries of my people
To the destruction of our homes
To the monarchy of traitors
Let me hear it everywhere I go
Let me be uncomfortable
Sep 22, 2021
Sep 22, 2021 at 10:06 PM UTC
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Majesty's Thereupon
COUCH ALLENS
Apr 10
to j_blayze2002
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PORTAL MADE INSURANCE GAZETTE ' SPEAR EARNS...'
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Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 7:57 AM UTC
Sur les tuiles où se hasarde
Le chat guettant l'oiseau qui boit,
De mon balcon une mansarde
Entre deux tuyaux s'aperçoit.
Pour la parer d'un faux bien-être,
Si je mentais comme un auteur,
Je pourrais faire à sa fenêtre
Un cadre de pois de senteur,
Et vous y montrer Rigolette
Riant à son petit miroir,
Dont le tain rayé ne reflète
Que la moitié de son oeil noir ;
Ou, la robe encor sans agrafe,
Gorge et cheveux au vent, Margot
Arrosant avec sa carafe
Son jardin planté dans un *** ;
Ou bien quelque jeune poète
Qui scande ses vers sibyllins,
En contemplant la silhouette
De Montmartre et de ses moulins.
Par malheur, ma mansarde est vraie ;
Il n'y grimpe aucun liseron,
Et la vitre y fait voir sa taie,
Sous l'ais verdi d'un vieux chevron.
Pour la grisette et pour l'artiste,
Pour le veuf et pour le garçon,
Une mansarde est toujours triste :
Le grenier n'est beau qu'en chanson.
Jadis, sous le comble dont l'angle
Penchait les fronts pour le baiser,
L'amour, content d'un lit de sangle,
Avec Suzon venait causer.
Mais pour ouater notre joie,
Il faut des murs capitonnés,
Des flots de dentelle et de soie,
Des lits par Monbro festonnés.
Un soir, n'étant pas revenue,
Margot s'attarde au mont Breda,
Et Rigolette entretenue
N'arrose plus son réséda.
Voilà longtemps que le poète,
Las de prendre la rime au vol,
S'est fait reporter de gazette,
Quittant le ciel pour l'entresol.
Et l'on ne voit contre la vitre
Qu'une vieille au maigre profil,
Devant Minet, qu'elle chapitre,
Tirant sans cesse un bout de fil.
427
when the moon was full,
grandpa and I would stay in town past sunset
the road home good, with few ruts, the pastures soft
silver in all that lunar light
his team was old, slow,
but grandpa knew no haste
even getting to the cellar, when
great twisters came
born the week Lincoln freed the slaves
he not once drove a car, though he lived
to read of Sputnik in the Gazette,
and died when JFK was elected
summers lasted a long time
with grandpa--I still see him. giving reins
a gentle shake, reminding his horses to pull us home
whistling to them, telling me tales
on a July night, the year of the Crash
he put his gaze on the fat orb, barely waning
“one day we'll put a man up there,” he proclaimed
but I thought he was pulling my leg
“have to put him in a cannon like,
enclosed in some hard shell, otherwise
we’d blow him all to hell, gettin' enough power
to loose the bounds of God's earth”
grandpa didn't live to hear Neil's famous words,
two score years after that summer night; though I yet hear the shod
hooves plodding, the wagon wheels rolling, and his words
soothsaying, whenever I gaze at a white moon’s face
Dec 1, 2016
Dec 1, 2016 at 5:21 PM UTC
Nicholas Tremulis, Wade Hayes,
two of my favorite singles but rather
obscure next to Paul McCartney
and Stevie Wonder.
Louis Lucas and Ronnie Levick,
rather obscure Bandstanders compared
to Kenny and Arlene and Justin and Bob.
Joe Mota and Ed Perry,
two obscure Illini compared
to **** Butkus and Johnny "Red" Kirk
Loren Tate and Bob Rasmussen,
two Champaign-Urbana New Gazette
sports writers not very known
compared to nationally based sports writers **** Shoop and **** Young
Obscurity vs. fame -
Is it necessary?
Just like
poverty vs. wealth -
Is that necessary?
I just wish we all could be wealthy and famous!
Charles Sturies
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 2:55 PM UTC
Weathers unnerving tempo
Draws ****** of livid bright
Drawn near though mad and slow
I, man of mere human might
Gazette it as life to death
Not so, we must choose
Appear ahead, loved and left
Of our own deeds we shall lose
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 5:35 PM UTC
Fable XII, Livre I.
Un médisant accusait les échos.
Un médisant !....... Je le ménage.
Le ciel, disait-il dans sa rage,
Puisse-t-il les punir de leurs mauvais propos !
Que d'ennemis je dois à leur langue indiscrète !
Tout, jusqu'à mes moindres discours,
Devient article de gazette.
M'échappe-t-il un mot ? Il se trouve toujours
Un chien d'écho qui le répète.
Ami, repart l'écho, faut-il s'en prendre à nous ?
Je répète, il est vrai ; mais pourquoi parlez-vous ?
299
Newspaper for an
Inner planetary System made of Love
Ehhh eh ehhhh ehh
Sorry
Seem to have a cough
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 12:05 AM UTC