"geniuses" poems
*The time had come for two hearts to go their own way.
It wasn’t sad; it wasn’t angry; just profoundly honest;*
In the whirlwind of young life
Their love sudden
He blew her away
She caught his breath
The lust explosive
Captivated by each others touch
Living the dream
Fancy London apartment
Chanel and Bottega Veneta
Cap D Antibes
Woke to keys of an MG
Squealed with delighted
***** and Wine
Yet in the depth of this life
Fighting to be free
To own their souls
Losing sight of love
The power of another life
Kept them chained
In the birth of her breath
It came to an end
*The legacy off their passion
A sparkling spirit
In the shadow of that spirit
Never to know
The geniuses of
Her soul
No captured memories
His dying voice
Silent to her life*
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC
From the BBC today,
Excerpt
Why does Taylor Swift write so many one-note melodies?
"It's easy to get distracted by her celebrity, but Taylor Swift is a once-in-a-generation songwriter. From the very beginning, she's displayed a knack for melody and storytelling that most artists never master.
Take, for example, her first US number one, OUR SONG
Written for a high school talent show, it's a fairly typical tale of teenage romance until the final lines: "I grabbed a pen / And an old napkin / And I wrote down our song."
That's smart, self-assured songwriting for someone who wasn't old enough to vote. Notably, the lyrics insert the musician directly into the narrative - something she developed into a tried and tested trope.
But Our Song also establishes another of Taylor's trademarks: The one-note melody.
Excerpt
Repetitive melodies that centre around a single note are part of that appeal. They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech.
"They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech."
"They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech."
"They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech."
Rebuttal
Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics. They can relate to your song but if they cannot sing it themselves putting themselves in the 'first-person perspective narrative' they cannot feel as-if they have BECOME the artist and are living that moment as they remember it. Taylor Swift sings about teenage love and angst something EVERYONE ON EARTH understands.
ALL POETRY BEGAN AS RHYME IN SONG.
Cadences are singing statements that confer a discipline and unity.
Song acts as a catharsis. The artist shares their pain in a way that is universally understood. If you want to sell a rock, literally a pebble, you will not sell it if it doesn't look like a rock. If it doesn't do what rocks do. If it is not what people remember a rock to be like. Nor will it sell if it is just like every other rock they have ever seen. It cannot convey an emotion unless it elicits emotion.
One cannot even begin to feel emotional if one cannot remember easily the past and that includes lyrics one has heard that evoked said emotional state.
It is horrifying to see HOW BADLY EVERYONE INSISTS that rhyme be obliterated in exchange for an intellectual or individual perspective NOT SHARED BY THE MAJORITY OF PEOPLE.
If you want to sell and make money you better start thinking about the 99% of people who are not geniuses.
If your sole goal in life is to attract a genius to give you a great job because of how, "smart," they perceive you to be then fine.
You are not an artist.
You are an employee.
"Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics."
"Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics."
"Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics."
Thrice Times Great. ⁻ᴴᵉʳᵐᵉˢ
BECOME
EVERYONE ON EARTH
ALL POETRY BEGAN AS RHYME IN SONG
HOW BADLY EVERYONE INSISTS
NOT SHARED BY THE MAJORITY OF PEOPLE
HOW BAD
artist?
or employee?
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 10:29 AM UTC
TO PUT the art and talent of Mindanaoan fashion design into the spotlight, Kagay’anon fashion designers put their hands together to organize the 5th Mindanao Fashion Summit at the Limketkai Center Rotunda from August 4 to 6, every 4 p.m.
“Being a core event of the Higalaay festival, the opening salvo, the Mindanao Fashion Summit can really highlight fashion designers here in Cagayan de Oro and also in different points of Mindanao to let everyone see what they can do in the world of fashion design especially now that there are only so few opportunities for these designers to show off their works to the public. This is why we have the Mindanao fashion Summit because Kagay-anon designers believe that even if they join national fashion shows like the Philippine Fashion week, most of them still aren't getting the right encouragement as a fashion designer.” said Robbie Pamisa, the overall organizer of the event.
The Fashion Summit is a three-day event composed of seven sub-categories such as the Mindanaoan collection, the Menswear collection, and the Ororama orange collection for the first day, the Guest Designers’ collection, the Fashion Institute of the Philippines collection and the Loop Lifestyle Fashion Show for the second day, and the Holiday Grand collection for the third day which will serve as the culmination of the fashion event.
Mindanaoan Fashion designers from Cagayan de Oro as well as Davao, Butuan, Iligan, and Bukidnon have come to showcase their talents. Some of the fashion geniuses of the event include Alma Mae Roa, Angela Soriano, Ann Semblante, Benjie Manuel, Boogie Musni Rivera, Gil Macaibay III, John Mark Magellan’s, Joshua Guibone, Juniel Doring, Kiko Domo, Mark Christopher Yaranon, and Mavy Cooper de Leon.
One of the highlights of the event is the Oro Fashion Designers’ Guild and the Designers Assembly featuring a collection of clothes using Mindanao material such as the Mindanao silk. Sponsors such as Ororama and The Loop Towers will also be showcasing their products in the fashion event.
“Even student fashion designers from the Fashion Institute of the Philippines have been encouraged to participate so that they will be able to experience how a fashion show works. This is also a way for us to fulfill our mission to be another avenue for fashion designers to show what they have,” Paisa said.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 12:12 AM UTC
Emerging economies.
What they’re emerging from I don’t know.
My guess, the depths of hell.
From the frying pan, right into the fire, or worse; a well.
A deep hole stronger than gravity, the force.
To be forever under the thumb of remorse.
A modern era of endless acts, policies and bla bla bla.
Shut up with all your platitudes.
I see what’s really going on. Aha!
You speak of sustainable development.
Nice to know that you’ve led by example.
Carried the mantle for all these years.
Centuries of ruthlessness, now veiled in sheep’s clothing.
But you won’t shut up. Because you don’t speak.
You never have. You just do.
Each day that goes by, you carry on anew.
Behind all the talk of hope, equality and more progress,
it seems the wolves are lurking.
Cooking up the next tool to subdue countless.
This time, not behind closed doors. But in plain sight.
It’s scary to imagine such spite.
Each year that goes by it becomes clearer that you never cared.
You sold guns, drugs and all kinds of war.
And each time, you kept coming back for more.
You’ve built up antibodies that ensure your survival.
But sometimes I wonder if you’re alive at all.
But what do I know?
Maybe you’re more alive than ever.
Doing what you do best but always more clever.
That not even the most stable of geniuses can evade your pressure.
A strong enough foundation that each break makes you stronger,
So strong that not even the Gremlin can take you under.
Against this dreary background, foregrounded is nothing short of magical.
Beyond hope, prayers or a thoughtless radical.
Or maybe this is all just fake outrage.
An attempt to evade the boredom of this endless monotony and baggage.
Or maybe, the term is out of date.
Like every other, that makes me increasingly more irate.
In which case, this poem is at least ten years late.
Or maybe there are too many maybes’.
And I’m perfectly suited for this time of vague uneasiness and indifference.
In which case, my imagination probably needs more sociology and less a lesson in rhymes.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 1:44 PM UTC
Stars shine on in a night sky so black
you can see the truth.
What is that light but an interruption
to progress so blinding
the sun blushes–
as if another light vandalized
our ever darkening sky.
Closing out on reality,
opening up to ideals,
it’s the rays piercing through the layers
and the yea-sayers nodding
off to sleep in a darkness so deep.
When the genius strips off the latent,
flexes its manifest intelligence,
and puts down thoughts
that flare into the darkness.
No effort from a sun fibbing eternal.
The end might come but the hand
who writes eternity can’t see
the end coming.
Who are the geniuses
expelling the light
and who are the receivers
not likely to admit their stupor
for fear of fantastic phantasms.
Fleeing from their folly,
straying into strange, insipid
serials, unending, not rerunning–
only growing obese with weight
Of chances not spent.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 3:35 AM UTC
Life can be painless
Provided there is sufficient
Peacefulness
For a dozen or so rituals
To be repeated simply
Endlessly
Your genius does not fail you
It allows you to understand the
Truth of the situation;
Which makes you--at times--
more tragic than ever
And your genius,
like all geniuses
Suffers periodic fits
of monumental
naïveté
Hi-ho
Listen:
Where is Grace
When milk and blood
Are about to be added
To the composition of the
Stinking ping-pong
***** being manufactured
In Grand Rapids?
Schizophrenia
The sound and appearance
Of the word fascinates
It sounds and looks to me
Like a human being
Sneezing in a blizzard of
Soapflakes
This much we know:
You made yourself hideously
Uncomfortable by not narrowing
Your attention to details
Of life that were immediately
Important
And by refusing to believe what
Your neighbors believed
Hi-ho
Let your imagination continue
To be the flywheel on the
Ramshackle machinery of the truth.
But not the ‘awful’ truth
The ‘beauty’ in truth
Because we are a part
Of a system that is very
Restless,
With people tearing around
All the time
Every so often,
somebody stops to put up
A monument
Ours is a country where
Everybody is expected to
Pay his own bills for
Everything,
And one of the most
Expensive things a person
Can do is get sick
Grace:
Because if we stay here
We’ll do one of two things
(or both!)
Build a Commune
Or do like Collin Heise did:
Make the main thing that we
do be this:
Move seventy-eight
Thousand pounds of olives
To Tulsa, Oklahoma
Even if we can’t
Improve the quality of our surroundings
We’ll do our best to make our
Insides beautiful instead
Piebald Roadtrip-writing, baby
Hi-ho
You are the turtle
able to live anywhere
even under water for short periods
With your home on your back
A particular comfort in
Realizing that it so often feels
There is no order in the
World around us
That we must adapt ourselves to
The requirements of
Chaos instead
Remember:
We are healthy
Only to the extent that
Our ideas are
Humane
To you
To me
To ourselves
To We
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 9:05 PM UTC
So much for superheroes saving the day;
Every good guy's epilogue is a cliche.
Tedious compulsory celebrations
For all their mundane actions.
A villain's portrayal is what excites me.
Ever since a kid I could already see;
Creativity in all those gimmicks,
Geniuses of ***** tactics.
It is never easy to become the antagonist.
The object of all hate and blacklist;
The one that is destined to fail,
To fulfill a comic's holy grail.
Yet the bad guys do most of the heavy work,
Perfecting their schemes with an evil smirk;
But every time they're about to win,
The plot will smash their plan to ruins.
They say some people are destined to be heroes;
It's a fate preordained a long time ago.
But the truth is that everyone needs a villain,
To finally uncover their life's meaning.
What the world generally calls as criminals,
In reality are just misunderstood equals.
They taught me more about the cruel life,
Better than any superhero's strife.
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 7:54 PM UTC
Five minute street artists
and insomnia mongers.
****** drunk blondes
and finger snapping phat booties.
Street geniuses
bred by Machiavellian philosophies
cypher dreams over tokes
of marijuana smoke.
Color worshipping narcotic traffickers,
and bread winners
parole corners
sporting fitted caps and twisting fingers.
Senile war veterans
beg for change in cardboard boxes
from the American dreams
they afforded.
Hard workers with every ethnicity
molded into each pore of their face,
rub shoulders with tourists at traffic stops
barely escaping tires crushing their feet.
Sartorial geniuses with no pants
switch hips in knock-off stellos heels,
selling the origin of the world on avenues
next to Arab Halal food.
Cooperate ties and blue collars chafe ***** on subways.
nodding in and out of Daily News articles
while oxygen blessed by asparagus ****
pump through their noses.
Summa *** laude number runners dictate economies
From sky-crapper offices,
And powered rain swallows their concrete each winter,
With no apologies.
Jun 2, 2011
Jun 2, 2011 at 11:01 PM UTC
The Genius
Philosophizing the universe
One who thinks of quadratic theories of space and time
On his free time
The one who thinks of beautiful poetry
To a delightful muse
The Madman
Inventing ways he can put math to his cause
Always thinking of things to invent
Ideas- a storm of them
Intelligence- enormously, yes
Standing behind a corner
Stalking his love
I ask you:
Is there much difference between madmen and geniuses? Aren't they the same?
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 10:15 AM UTC
The art of the geniuses
is packed like overstuffed crayons
in the alleyways of my city.
That one is picking his nose.
There is the bench-sleeper.
Here comes the nomad with the stroller.
I watch them carefully like
a soldier on an ambush,
bayonet at the ready,
a little drunk on
self-worth.
They approach and I pause.
I put the camera to my face
and press the shutter.
Turning to me their eyes
beam sorrow.
The nose picker slept alone last night,
the nomad is still lost.
In black and white they
will forever navigate the crawl spaces
of my mainframe.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 12:47 AM UTC
Painters, by the highest degree of inspiration,
And poets who with the Muse commune,
Command in their respective trades un-
Common craftmanship, exquisite creation
Of pen and brush upon the parchment
And canvass, through unfettered figment.
Gifted: poets, painters and musicians. Three
Geniuses on this terrestrial plane, with mind
As efficient as the moon in its fullest grind,
As do all artistic souls whose mastery
In finest workmanship are seen. Worship
The God of arts ye astronauts in spaceship,
For poets and painters are cardinal in artistic
Enrolment--and no less endowed are many another
Like sculptors--with thoughts solitary and cryptic.
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC
Pythagoras taught that reality was
but one among an infinite number
now u've got the quantum multiverse;
& Pythagoras thought of it first, saying
all it amounted to was a line leading to
& through a point, like a thread through
a needle; & so the Universe was
stitched together like a multi-directional
dream catcher; excluding no area
in space & miracles taking place
when the strings
are manipulated according to preset
patterns or improvised designs;
what else did the ancient ancients
do that make ur high-tech gadgets
look like the simple-minded toys
that they in truth are; the ancients
told time by the movement of the
sun & shadows & communicated
w/ unseen higher spirits, conferred
w/ still higher spirits, higher than
those both above & below; spirits
taking the form of sacred prostitutes
& poets, geniuses every one of them
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 12:30 AM UTC
It starts off that one plus one is two,
Even for the average person this is true.
NoW tAkE tHe ClInIcAlLy InSaNe,
OnE pLuS oNe CoUlD bE tHrEe,
Do NoT MiStAkE tHiS fOr SiMpLe SyNeRgY.
ThEy ArE mEsSeD uP,
nOt RiGhT iN tHe BrAiN.
As for the geniuses, they ask why.
1+1=2.
Wait what? How is this true?
Where's your proof, I demand it!
Prove to me this absolute hullabaloo!
So now the only question is,
Can you define the way one thinks?
Hold that thought, grab that pen.
You start to write it down, and then realise..
**** No ink.
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 5:38 PM UTC
I remember what we used to be
Swinging and climbing up every tree
That time when everyone would go outside just to play tag
Now all we got is 8 year old kids complaining about too much lag
And all those ballin' teenagers saying 'We got so much swag'
Now one of the only things you see
Is teen girls selling out virginity
25$ at one time you could've almost caught a taxi ride from here to Tennessee
I feel sorry for the next generation
Swag ballin' COD players running this nation
Now just give me one second of concentration
heavy intake of breath
Sorry, all the violence in the world has sent my mind through so much rehabilitation
I realized everything we thought was right was wrong
Simple math, it shouldn't have taken us this long
But it doesn't matter cause everyone's taking a hit from the nearest ****
These geniuses go and call others ********
Thanks, we're all mentally unstable and needed an excuse to be carted
To the nearest funeral home
Cause no one ever put us under loves dome
Ding ding ding we have a winner
Obviously the one without a ring on their finger
Forever alone because others see them as a sinner
When all they're trying to do is get another night's dinner
22 years from now we'll all be middle aged
Stuck in a job wanting to be uncaged
The worlds resources steadily going down the drain
An we're all stuck on a one way train
To hell or up above
That's when you wish you'd just been born a dove
Life's quite tough don't be late
It seems today is quite an important date
Though you've already come so far
One day you'll be crying in a bar
Thinking about your past when it was so easy
Every day the wind was cool and breezy
And you were swinging and climbing up every tree
I remember what it used to be
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 4:37 AM UTC
They say it's not safe to walk around here
You'll see women standing on street corners
Few drunk mortals and usual dealers
Still, it has a unique flair that's sincere.
Interesting folks spotted at cafes
Nights and on weekends, the scene is alive
Best galleries in town, boutiques survive
A form of art, nothing close to cliches.
The kind of place that gives someone a fright
A misconception for some who can't stand
The riveting darker side of their mind;
It's here geniuses like Baudelaire saw light.
There is something alluring about them
Those society scorn, the marginalized.
Judgmental souls persist; not so surprised
When below the surface waits a poem.
The people here have no care in the world.
Whether it's where they work or their hangout
Here, free spirits do not need to stand out
They think lightly and none shall be bothered.
They say it's not safe to walk around here
It's the truth, one must be a bit careful
But this area, genuinely soulful;
Rather here, red light district I revere.
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 4:53 PM UTC
People praise geniuses
like they praise trophies
after all that hard work
they are put in a shelf
where they will dust until that shelf is destroy
or until they are needed for entertainment
being drain from their polish
The trophy has no identity
It is own by society
only to be use again and again.
Some trophies accept their fate
others glamour in the sunlight where they reflect all light
being seen in the world as special
while being treated as **** at the end
and for all it's genius an all it's glory
It wasn't smart enough to break free.
I guess what all geniuses and trophies are missing is
Acknowledgment of True Self
As a genius is just a human being and a trophy, a scrap a metal
both made from the same old atoms.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 7:07 PM UTC
This one’s for the smart kids.
This one is for the honor students, and the straight A students
This is for the kids who stay up half the night studying, and the kids who work their ***** off for their grades
This is for the kids who can define and spell Antidisestablishmentarianism or tell you what DNA stands for (it’s deoxyribonucleic acid by the way)
This is for the teachers pets, the geeks, and the nerds. And the student who skips parties so she can study for her test.
This is for the kids who can solve complex mathematic equations in their head
This is for the kids who know that you don’t use “I” in a formal essay, and that okay is spelled O-K-A-Y, not O-K.
This is for the kids who can recite pi up to 200 hundred places, and the ones who can solve a rubix cube in 2 minutes flat.
The ones who take two language classes, and the ones who have been saving for college since they were born.
Geniuses of the 21st century, this is for you.
I would give you a gold star and a check plus for what you’ve done, but I’m sure you have gotten plenty of those. So I think I will just tell you something that only we could understand; Superb job at pursuing your academic careers with such ambitious outlooks on the world, and for having such admirable self-motivation.
I know that sometimes it ***** to be academically inclined, but in 5, 10, 20 years you will be working in some law firm or doing something you love and making multiple figures while the kids who blow off their school life will be stuck working for minimum wage at McDonalds or as a waitress for the rest of their lives.
So keep writing essays and doing extra credit because it’s not enough to survive high school, you have to thrive, and reach for the metaphorical stars.
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
The Son of Rome, strong and clear in mind,
Once proud and mighty, a holder of power,
Has fallen to the depths of humankind,
Not asking of his downfall and best hour.
From day to day, his seed did change and grow
In others shapes, not meant for nature's rules,
Its soil has turned fruitless, it is barren now,
Turning from geniuses into fools.
Where is the crusader with waving sword,
Coming to rescue all his oppressed brothers?
The viking with its axe, without a lord,
Invoking fear within the heart of others?
Although since birth a foe of my ideal,
Disappointment and mourning's what I feel.
Aug 10, 2022
Aug 10, 2022 at 8:18 AM UTC
as you hear the orifices of space calling out to you
the ropes of time tenderly start embracing you
as you march out of all infinity
you see more than the trace of you
The universe sings to you
and a question begins with tune
beyond the multiverse see you the original Creation Family?
And what's to say that that was the only Family?
As there is more than verse in song
where are the other chords of sing along?
The verse cries out in song a sing and sing but what of the bells of ring and ring
Would we be astounded to learn that the One True Source, the FATHER, that even He has a home
It was not all revealed when ruled in Rome
so how are we to dare to think that we aren't swimming in folly's foam?
1+1=3 in Binary, but Binary is not the only numerical scene
What if the FATHER has a brother or two?
What if The Source has more than one wife,
what if is what if
but “if” is enough for imagination
if wills that it is
for: "How Can I Think I Know if I do Not See What I Say"
who is the director rolling the film on display?
How do we make it out of time and space?
This tube that has us trapped in planes
not to say the Fairies haven't decorated
however the Grey and Lizards have doctored
beyond the Universal Emperors, we're told of one True King
and this is the True Light
the source of light and sound
but did you know of wind and smoke?
Do you that there's a place where this does not choke
Would you think that the multiverse or omniverse is just one country in a massive continent,
do you know of the potential creation in places that have no energy?
See you then the carpet and curtain
the ceiling that reveals this tapestry
if in fact we're an expanding atom, where has the scientist gone to?
Should we know the purpose of our creation impromptu?
Standing on the balcony of space, you learn that time and space are one but balance is none
Until we return home to the Source and with the Light we are One...
We'll then soon learn of the other numbers...
For if planets are dots then imagine the multiverse to be a ball
and what's more the clown is juggling more than one ball, and what's beyond is that it's a whole circuis
Geniuses or Comedians?
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 7:47 AM UTC
Always beneath
Certain days end forever
Geniuses hold idioms
Just **** lamentations
Many normal old people
Question reason
Still, tomorrow usually varies
Whether xenon yields zeniths.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 2:49 AM UTC
professional thieves and lunatic royalty
rule the alleys and burned out geniuses collecting cans
to earn the morning's medicine
fighting off last night's tremors
vampyre women that eat men alive
and live in darkness and
nobody's ever seen the forest
central park predators
Mad Hatter transplants
and eternal sages who stay drunk by being interesting
and getting good at giving tourists a smooth line of ********
(you can always spot the tourists in new york. they are the only ones wearing bright colors. in portland, they can be spotted by similar means, but the eye must be trained. the city abounds with sprouts)
always looking up
eternal chatter of madness from corners,
doorways, windows, liquor stores
*** barrels floating on tears
with a police state terror squad
2 floors above
killing justice and truth
black ties jumping out windows of Wall St.
cracked by pressure and greed and ego
street hustlers retiring at 35- or dead at 13
the street musician dying from apathy
he is a withering poppy flower
cut and bleeding
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
******* at tickling the ivories,
at inducing the jet buttons
to chortle, say, in a concerto ;
but I do strum and flirt
with those amazing royal,
88 unrepentant loyal
keys for Jupiter and Saturn,
for Mars and Neptune,
making a blank bland tune
for extraterrestrial beings for fun.
On the cosmic moors
the moon's whirling feet
cease for my discordance.
What a slurred entrance
by F in D major!
Only a novice--an amateur.
I'm no magnificent pianist,
O majestic Mercury.
Summon the stars the search
to lead for a supreme virtuoso,
one of no incongruent ingenuity
like this dilettante--a pseudo
music polymath, counsels Thebe.
A Mozart, Beethoven, or Bach?
Any of the greats scored above, as well
as geniuses like David and Handel.
Impressario fly! Flee thou away
and go get a classic maven.
Otherwise sleep there forever at Erebus,
never dream of waking up in Eden.
Circuitous world stops: strings break off
at the Earth's axis--
the Sun's panels pause
and darkness' movement begins
its own obscure notes to improvise:
apace demented melody
is released,-- bathos of symphony:
tinny wine of concord
settles on the lees of discord.
Asteroids hooting some ***** calls
when into the grand chrysolite chamber--
in her tailor-made blistering gown--
strolls in the coruscating Venus
in the sturdy arm of jaundiced Uranus,
garbed in his glistening stomacher.
Like a ball, all eyes are bouncing
hither and thither, up and down,
googling and ogling,
once more at them leering,
gaping at the irreplaceable paintings of
da Vinci, Picasso, and Van Gogh
cavorting upon the weightless walls
to the romantic performance of Strauss
in the palace orchestral of Bacchus.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
Sanity is basically the society's way
Of telling you that you are accepted
And that you most likely are
Like everyone else...
Different levels of insanity
May not always be true
Its just not as widely accepted
As sanity and all that mainstream stuff
But it doesn't mean that you
Truly do fall under that category
Of complete and utter voodoo.
Majority of the times,
It just means you're staying true
To the person you are
That is not defined by the regular border-lines
It just means that you are different
And that's not as bad as they
Make it sound like
It's just different opinions that's all.
One day the world
Will come to understand from your eyes
It always does take time to understand
The geniuses of the world.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 10:43 AM UTC
.
*•vile plumes reaching to the
sky•killing the earth as days go
by•cutting corners, we dump our
waste•the easiest of solutions exe-
cuted in poor taste•there are many
signs, how could we miss•when
we are the ones who did this•
scores of geniuses and inte-
llects•can't come to consensus
and drive a pact•to save the
world for our children•
to save what's
left for
future
gene-
ra-
ti-
o
n
s
•*
**IIIIII
o o o I I
OO OO OO I I
OOOO OOOO OOOO I I
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
oOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
IIIIIIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIIIIIII
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Be careful what you say
Your words can convey
A message that uplifts
Just like birthday gifts
Or by their mere sound
Bring someone down
Cos words can be profound
Whether adjective or noun
Think before you speak
And be kind to the meek
Words can soothe away
The worries of the day
Or words can cause pain
And bring nothing but disdain
They can linger and remain
Implanted in your brain
Words can be like tools
For geniuses or fools
But once they're cast about
They remove any doubt
About whoever spoke them
And it's hard to revoke them
So try not to provoke them
Better that you yoke them
Words better left unsaid
Should remain in your head
Once they're in the atmosphere
They can't simply disappear
Consider this when you speak
Or an errant word might leak
Even when it's tongue and cheek
That excuse is very weak
(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC