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Mateuš Conrad Aug 2016
die nacht  aus alle verewigung -
verewigung die nacht - in immigrant German
spoken - not spoken, hälfte, hälfte,
pork-chops go go got taken with Australian *******...
cos selling the body saved you with the crucifix from
selling something like your soul, hence the accord to
be ready for critique of selling the magic potion of drinking
iodine... i was a fetus back then... when the atom
**** got the plastic elasticity of tangling
to wanking a didgeridoo... magician's syndrome:
**** that tightened fist and i'll assure you
you'll get the white flag of piracy's peace:
meaning they never robbed the rich men, pirates
just robbed the artists... hey wooden plank,
knock knock... don't make me into a wooden chair...
take a creaking floorboard and make it into
a shimmy toothpick... knock knock... who's there?
Jude? Jude who? hey i'm Jude? Judy Jew who?
a Jew who chewed propaganda and hid Jude.
fair enough, Jude's the everyday Jew.
no, she's the Rabbi! Rabbi who?
the Sabbatical who knows who.
some say i know god.
well, good luck with that, mostly asserted
on death row.
at least that place is given a fabric of a team effort.
by the time i think about next week's trash
i'll have written something akin to it being
taken out into a pig's trough of what resembled
the dating scene in New York...
hardly reminiscent of the gay Utopia:
so much anger yet still only the vote,
so much anger yet still only the vote...
           the intelligence poured in, but the
quiff only wanted the algebra of x
to match it up to a presidential race success with some donor's
y, and later + and squared and equals to make
those family holidays affordable.
- winter-night... deutschekaiser....
i swear it would be cheaper to build a wall
around the middle east...
like the European Union really
wanted to invest in dates... cos we were
ready to make a Sabbath from a Ramadan...
like we waited for the loss of % on added debt...
we waited, and waited... and waited...
we got McDonald's instead... and that was all
in the inventory... and that was all in
whatever we got, if we got anything:
deutsche schmutzig machen... is that perfect
German muddy - herrbzigg - or alter
Philanthropist zigzag - howdy howdy **?
dots the avenue...
and the many riches coming your way...
make muddy, or muddied already,
takes one swipe of the credit card,
ends up with 110 to nil streaks of ****
bothered about Star Trek... and the cellphone...
and the extraterrestrials of Mexico (or he co & co; huh i?)...
got the gangrene green if you
like the Licorice tangle of blank Ovid saying:
mahogany, mahogany, mahoney... mama got all da
honey... n she got the 2Pac shaky shaky core blues;
mind the albino in the hood:
or Mars the red planet, Earth the brown planet,
scary they thought of dinosaurs with dragons prior...
didn't think of Martian life prior to government
conspiracies, way before Darwinism and crowd control...
life on Mars: well, it was once there,
long before dinosaurs, and bacteria and yogurt...
long before the circus, and the commuter caterpillar...
i believe that there was life on Mars,
given the timescale... it was there...
but it ain't there anymore...
                           which might explain the U.F.O.s....
don't believe the government's audacity to have
created something so phosphorescent Zulu
as to invoke an engraving of lawless Voodoo...
before we knew of dinosaur remains we drew dragons...
before we explored Mars we were given
the proofs... life existed on Mars, long before
Earth was made the 2nd laboratory of a deity...
then it died, given the life-cycle of stars...
Mars is rocky... earth is rocky...
whatever life existed on Mars in its full potential
is long gone... is this really as weird
as what pop culture makes of man and monkey?
kettle and carpal muscles evolving from
oysters? we really can become equally ridiculous to
the extent that we turn on each other...
it didn't take much to divide Hindu from Muslim
into India and Pakistan... this won't take much thought either...
i'm just trying to counter scientific negativism,
and counter the timescale of both physicists' big bang
theory and the anti-historical Darwinism...
i'm starting with life on Mars, at a time when
Earth was inhospitable... volcanic... i might be among
the many people treated as being "mentally ill"
when the government claims to be so advanced as to practice
such projections of phosphorescent objects,
when it's dumb as Donald *****... because NASA is
not theoretical enough... and the government seeks
control by claiming NASA isn't the end result...
the usual suspects: lies... and more lies...
the Venusian Art... the pick-up artists...
i read it, never tried it... wish i did... but i also wished
for a herd of goats too...
but that's the best explanation of sighting a UFO i have...
before Earth was made habitable, Mars came prior...
Mars is rocky... is Earth... our fantasy is about discovering
life on Mars... life on Mars left a long time ago...
it's gone... gone gone gone...
the sun is cooling down before it becomes a dwarf...
before the perfection of this glasshouse of plants and animals
Mars came before us... and it was perfect...
later came this whole God and Devil debacle and plagiarism...
the first supreme, the second mildly similar...
but altogether worse... i told you, a phosphorescent object
in the night is hardly a government project...
the government is not capable of such things...
if they are, then they're like a man with a 4 inch
***** telling a girl he's a millionaire and has a fetish for
watching his girlfriend get ****** by a stranger with a 12 inch ****...
do the match... get a mud-bath.
the Welsh drew dragons and the Chinese too,
long before the dinosaurs usurped the happy-times
next to a bonfire... i'm just like that...
life existed on Mars long before we decided to look
for microbes on that red Ayers orb...
i'd be looking for sodium rather than twin oxygen trapped
into liquid by hydrogen, then always alienating laws
by ice, the said liquid and vapour...
my theory is that the original life on Mars,
didn't experience hydro sodium chloride... i.e. the seas...
Mars had only sweet life form... given the Devil
plagiarised Mars with earth, we received the seas...
we received the hydro sodium chloride... salty waters...
so if i was heading to Mars, i'd be mostly interested
in finding sodium chloride (salt) than anything...
not life... if i was heading to Mars i'd be trying to find salt...
not life... salt... salt... salt... Angie Jolie film (2010)? Salt.
because we forgot our individual intuition,
and we chose to have individual intellect that might be
easily swayed, because of this we allowed
collective intuition to arise... which we couldn't
intellectualise, because a collective intuition gave rise
premonition, prophecy and such artefacts of similar attention...
no collective intellect could ever be grasped:
atheism and Christianity and Islam and etc.
are such examples of what we lost... once we gave up
individual intuition, to replace it with a collective intellect,
we couldn't revise individual intuition with an individual
intellect (how many adherents of Marx does it
take to change a light-bulb?) - so we invested in
a collective intuition, whatever you call it, it's maxim
is still unshaken with the words: the sun will rise tomorrow.
a line from Heidegger concerning this observation:
every man is born as many men and dies as a single one -
like me, how i discovered the difference between
the man and the mass, intuition and intellect...
how man reversed the intuitive continuum of animals
to converse with an anti-animal invigoration of
intellect, and transcend the continuum of replicas,
and therefore invest in embryo, or the book of Genesis,
"original", in that, also a continuum by ontological inspection:
i.e. continually revisionist... Einstein preceding Newton...
Orangutan Joe preceding King Kong was never
really going to happen.
Kit Aug 2018
I destroyed the pretty.
It's all emptiness now, what do you expect? You can't expect me to trust you further! Why would you let me break?

I destroyed the pretty.
It's not the question if you trust me, it's the question if I still feel a needle in my arm. It's the question for love and pain; a heart attack in a field of broken Roses.
Why can't you break me further? I am done, and you took my lifesaving essence.

How may I feel betrayed today? If it wasn't you that destroyed, oh, but it was me.

I ruined the pretty, I destroy the last lovely, I broke it.
One was left, now two are shattered.

So give me pain,
pain to ban the feelings,
pain to ban my life decisions,
pain to ruin further what's already lost,
has always been meant to be lost.
God why does it hurt so bad?
It's not like heartbreak,
it hurts like betrayal
and it hurts like death.
The feeling of death, deeply sitting down, wearing me out like a broken glass of beauty.

I threw you down, Glasshouse
Pretty
Beauty
I destroyed the pretty all the beauty is what I took away.
Shattered on the glass wood floor.
Death crawls up my spine like a spider to its to be killed prey.

I can't hear you anymore, how could you???
How on this earth dare you???
You left me!
You let me break you.
Why would you want that?
Isn't one destroyed body enough?
Isn't my misery beautiful enough?
I felt the worst when I wrote this (not about writing it, but I was chaos when this was created) , it's about selfhate and a person very important to me...
Mel Holmes Mar 2014
driving south
to see trees in bloom
after a night of sleeping in the snow
& letting the hail beat up your face,
i can imagine is like
seeing color for the first time.

i am the new wick of a candle--
turned on by spring sun,
hot,
the light shows the beauty in strangers
like red-haired, shirtless Steven
whose eyes graced me with
the radiance of sunlit olive,
a shade i have never dreamed before:
gold & green globs twist in circles
in his irises, like magic

no wonder warm blood of new loves
is harvested in this season.

at the pink rock on the parkway,
i saw a collared corgi get lost,
enamored with strangers.
cannabis clouds coagulate
the air to power young hikers.
i spy front seat fever
in the car next to mine,
heads disappear
into the laps of their lovers.

for me, it is these woods,
the nurturing ways of the willows,
the numbing wind of unspoiled silence
by the glasshouse over the lake.

the bloom of new cycles
in the ancient--
what was always there,
like lovers that are always within,
part of you.
dogwoods crack open
to let us come together in a forested space
where all trails lead to treehouses.

this is my spring love,
this is bliss.
oX Sampson Mar 2014
Such
revealing
beauty
lies
within
tragedies
of
reflection.
Transparency (optional)
Sarina Mar 2013
I am not ill, but
covered in moss and milkweeds:
green skin. blooming hair.
Hands Nov 2012
The fog began to roll in,
twirling and twisting into the darkly shaded night.
The air smelled of young adulthood and
the lovehot and wild bucks and does
rolling and romping around in their
thick clouds of pheromones.
We ventured into this haze,
arms locked together and
hands intertwined.
Your warmth radiated off and
filled me with heat and
tingle-loveliness and sweet,
sweet music.
It scared me,
these new and bizarre things
that I had never felt, before.
I felt myself begin to swell up,
a bright red balloon in the dark, black night,
filled with the lighter-than-air molecules
of my newfound feelings.
Please, body,
don't you float away.

We walked in tandem--
already did we walk as one being,
one body.
It was 4 AM and
we were sauntering uptown,
stuck together like
the feathers on a bird
that had never before denied
its instinct to fly away.
I stared intently at your face,
trying to wish you away.
What about
my freedom,
my wild and untamed
boyish libido,
those future nights of painless,
faceless encounters to be blurred into
the fog of my young and wild buck-crazy
life?
Your thumb rubbed the back of my hand,
rubbed my mind and
rubbed my heart.
Your thumb rubbed
my very existence,
rubbed away the dirt and grime and
rubbed me to my very core.
I felt the ice of 47 different men
begin to melt away,
as the thing that I had sought to keep hidden
above all else
was being exposed.
That weak and
pulsing *****,
beating like a drum;
a tiny,
fragile,
little drum.
At any moment it could stop,
the tempo could change,
our arms would unlock and
our fingers drift apart.
At any moment this warmth could fade away,
could roll and sew itself into
the cold, harsh night
or lose itself in the
lonely company of the thick curtain of fog.
I looked up at the sky,
saw the light of stars I had never before noticed.
In that moment I realized,
The temporary is more beautiful
than the everlasting and the infinite.

In that moment I realized
that even though I was afraid of pain,
pain is natural,
it is inevitable.
Pain is like
the squeezing of my hand
inside the grip of another
or the heavy breathing on my neck
of a head resting on my shoulder.
It is a sign,
a message;
it says,
I am here,
I am alive.

In that moment I realized,
even if it has an end
at least it had a beginning.
Time does not exist;
the present is the only
real reality.
And really,
in that moment I realized
that taking a temporary risk
paid off,
as we never really forget someone
after we feel their hands,
their fingerprints,
after we have engrained their body heat
into our very body chemistry.
The fragility of it all,
the temporary glasshouse that
shielded these exchanges from
the harsh glares and gusts of
a world too large for itself,
made me want to cry;
the lightweight feelings and the
tippytoed carefulness
as we walked up the stairs and
into his house.
Three bears were asleep
and so we kept on walking,
laying ourselves down and
stringing our limbs together,
breathing our fallen-for-you and
forget-me-not breath
into the face of the other--
a young and inflated mirror image;
a doppelganger infatuation.
I turn my head above
and look around your room,
trying to fin the stars that
you have hidden away.
Your walls are covered in the
places you want to see,
your dreams filling up
each and every one of those
pieces of flimsy paper.
The world doesn't matter.
The roads and the streets,
the unknown and unseen locales,
they have all been mapped out by you,
seen by your heart's eye.
As we lay together,
lips interlocking and
tongues twisting together,
I present to you another place
to map out just as well.
It is a newly discovered land
full of hopes and dreams and loves and losses,
covered in pockmarks and scars and
a pale and fragile pallor.
I present it to you as a gift
and as a message,
I am here,
I am alive.

You accept it graciously,
gulp down my heart and
all of my feelings with it.


A week later and
I watch as the routes have been placed,
the forests uncovered and
the ruins and ghost towns brought
back from the haze of
historic obscurity.
did he know how he had killed me from the start
betterdays Oct 2014
the old man that lives
in my head...
woke up today and said....

nuthin new under the sun.
at sometime son,
we all be...
fakers,
takers,
******, muck rakers.

if you think,
you above that.
then...
you must be livin,
in a window-less,
glasshouse,  son.

sitting  on,
stoneless ground
and smilin...
cause you just don't know,
how downright, dumb,
you be.....

take it from me...
we all born into sin
and we all sometimes,
still like to put
a toe tip in
and swirl it all around....

see what can be stirred
up
see what can be found...

it's what we do with that
slime
that makes a man, gentlefolk
or street-grime......
he calls every body son.....
an i call him rip.....he does not wake up too often....lol

just kidding....inspired by
an old friend of mine....

i believe the first line
comes from the bible...
M Harris Apr 2017
Lightning Enchantress & Her Diamond Absolutes,
Moaning Fluxes Of Her Satellite Pursuits.,
Phantasmal Intents In Her Indigo Silhouettes.

***** Eyes & Animatronic Bliss,
Her Cherry Lips Calling For Her Symphonic Kiss,

Inimitable Raindrops & Iridescent Perpetuity,
Condensed Laments Of Her Kaleidoscopic Sphericity,

Purple Palisades & Platinum Charades,
Pheromone Verses Of Her Propelled Shades,

Shapeshifting Reveries Of Her Hourglass Fictions,
Charming Archangels Concealed In Her Convictions,
Glasshouse Perspectives Emitting Luminescent Predictions,

Magnetic Canvas & Her Stainless Vibrations,
Her Aesthetic Amour Diffusing Amplifications,

Satirical Saga In Her Spiritual ******,
Lyrical Charlatans Of Her Velvet Creativity,

Crystal Flowers & Supernatural Dreams,
Befuddled Effigies Of Her Cryptic Realms,
Her Feral Gleams Illustrating A Prophetic Queen.

- 02:32 AM  -
Yo guess who's bizzack
Attack the mens in black?
Where them ***** cops at?
Blastin' us for no **** reason
We at war with each other for no **** reason
Daily treason
Commited by the ******' senate
Masons evolve around the sun
Not the holy son
Open ya head cuz its brain dead
Knowledge is power im here to devour
Make my enemies bleed
From gun powder
Deep in the flesh hard for ya to ingest
Air into ya system
Takin' mad shots
Aint no missin' em
My style be simple
And complex
**** the chains the cars n the rolex
No plex
Cuz you dont wanna see
Me act a fool
Bring out the tool
Know the rules
To the game used be 48 now there's  50
Got every fool in the hood
Actin' shifty
When we gone break some leven
And embrace heaven
Naw i feel like im the only one
Left revengin' for the sons
Of satan
Watch me get blatant
No panic yea im growin frantic
I try to remain calm
Put theres an itch in my palms
****** after midnight
Gets the mind right game tight
Blurry vision
So i had to realign my sight
Now im focused no hocus pocus
Im back on top of thangs
Got my own biz in my own name
Still spreadin' luv
To all colors affliated cuz
We all in the same gang

N these for all my homies
Who i see when i hit the ******
Deaths on a creeper
No sleep i stay up most nights
Tryna figure out n fight
Why do we live like this?
Its ludicrous
Somebody tell me this?
Or is it they tryna bring slavery back
Fools aint even realizin'
That?
Too busy after the fame
I peep game
Wastin' time to maintain
Temporary fame
Only to end up in shame
Hearts full of flames
Cuz ya soul done burned out
Keep the smoke out
Uh out of my way hit the highway
Half a tank in my glasshouse
Make a stop to my spouse
Put a tag on tha ***
Then step back out
Once my feet hit the street
I bang original or *******
Loud music
So nigguhs can thank
But they say im crazy
And they phase me
Out the picture
Too busy drunk on  the spiritual liqour
I killed the ol me
Along time ago and now i know
Ain't no *** of gold on the end of the rainbow
We just inches below
Armageddon
Bring the heat
I bet i get them sweatin?
No more lettin'
Off this trigger man
CERN just waitin' to flip the script
Manifestin' demons into the light
Pretty aint it?
Got many believin' in dead things?
Reality aint what it used to be
Art imitates life
But all I'm painted with is strife
Roll the dice
Tryin' not to get" snake eyes"
Keep ya eyes on the prize they watchin'
You
Be vigilant and stay true
No matter what they do??
When they try to attack
Dont hold back??
Revolutionizin' the game black
Guess who's back???
Anabel Jul 2017
kneel down at the church and hope to God he's listening
****** mary was always crying, always looking up past the ceiling, the choir always singing about cleaning your heart because jesus wanted a clear glasshouse
what's that? is it the beat of my stained heart or the gasps between tears in my room?
my loss of faith only came when a new feeling knocked on my door: love
but it wasn't the "normal" love that i had been hearing in preachings –forget that, it wasn't jesus loving me or some boy trying to get my attention, it was a girl– which was so taboo in my house and school that i didn't even know that was possible.
three words came out of research: homophobic, homosexual, lesbian
I looked past the ceiling when I realised caught feelings for this girl and when she asked me out I prayed to God, the one we were taught about in preachings, that this would be worth it, that this would last long, that this would be supported love–but forget it, he wasn't listening
I tried calling him, i confessed, i mentally and physically tried to clear my glasshouse. I went to church, i got prophecies told by the local preachers, i sang and quoted the bible, where was he? where was he when i needed him when my parents told me to stop loving her? where was he when my depression came around and decided to ruin everything? did he let me down on purpose for not following his rules? and when i found out that other religions existed, was he punishing me for sinning? Questioning his existence under the catholic faith turned him into a deception
And what was the point of that? Teaching me how to be a better human being by punishing me and shaming what i thought was okay? Love is supposed to be okay, love is supposed to be supported and supportive, love is supposed to protect and be protected –and all i get is being thrown out to the curb because i found love? Because it wasn't the "right" kind of love?
jesus, i hope to god you're not listening anymore
lost ideals prompt
Barry loughton was a great bloke

you see he liked Aussie Rules and Fitzroy was his team

he had a hobby farm as well and i liked the idea of when he told me that

actually Barry was the man that changed me

you see he liked watching the FAT and he liked writing his poems

he liked the old style cricket and we joked about seeing the other half live

I liked Barry loughton, he was little but he was nice

you see when i watch TV at home and a show like the Glasshouse

or ***** laundry comes on, i think of him

Ir was hard when i found our he was dead

he fucken hung himself, WHY WHY WHY

since then I went backward because seeing his happy face and knowledge mind

was all i liked, we went to the war memorial him and my mate Dan

but i am searching for him, what me being Cronus and all

and i found him

Barry Loughton is now Darcy Tadich age 10, who is the latest inclusion to the Neighbours cast

I liked Barru loughton’s stone in the shoe poem

have you ever gone through life with a stone in my shoe, I do,

well Darcy has that stone now

can i tell you one thing, barry was a very happy choppy when i rang him up

we talked about his trip to the Bradman Museum and trips with his son

now, i wish 10 year old darcy all the best after his last life was a terrible suicide
Sarina May 2013
I like old glass windows,
how they’ve blurred and frosted over
looking like the back of a used postage stamp
everything behind them a shadow.

I laid in a conservatory, a glasshouse,
after ruining your relationship.

The green things just barely hid me:
I wished I had been some place more antique
less inhabited, less cared for.

I wished I had not been seen.
Leaves danced out insults, all were true,
*** tourist, homewrecker, and everyone knew
because I became proud to have hurt her
when I had only meant to hurt you.

To run would have been preferable
although wine-colored flora may tango up my
ankles, spiral to the belly of my heels.

You know how my feet seemed ******
in the red Georgia clay?

Yet the arch remained clean, elevated by itself?
That is how I was,
ripe and daisyed in a surrounding brick.

I wished I had not been seen,
rather purchased a futon set that is not more
than a silhouette behind stained glass
and ended myself as well I as did you and her.
Nigel Morgan Nov 2012
I walked in the park
To put myself right with the world.
I thought, ‘I’ve worked all day
I owe myself this time.’
Mid August and the late afternoon sun
Was already peering through the trees.
Was already forming lengthy shadows,
I thought, ‘Summer is on the wane
And there’s been so little of it.’
 
Away across the valley
The city is winding itself up up
For a Saturday night.
Lights twinkle and boom boom
Of the bass bins in the boots
Of the chavs’ motors boom boom.
Then the sirens start and the girls shriek.
 
Over the hill, past the lake,
And into the Rose Garden
Empty but for an elderly couple
Strolling strolling under the canopies of roses
The shade gloriously dark green
The shade so inviting to sit and watch
The geese launch into their evening flight
To scatter over the chestnut trees and away.
 
I sit where I’ve sat these many years
Usually alone, and at this hour,
And in this season resting in the perfume
Of Meg Merrilies and Harrison’s Yellow.
And now you’re here! I see you
Walking through the Gate of Two Storks,
Past the glasshouse with its cacti and vines,
To sit beside me with your brightest brightest smile.
 
I am so full of happiness in this day-time dream.
I am so full of happiness you are sitting here.
Your voice is a real as the rustle of your dress.
You rest your left hand on my right arm
And gently so gently stroke the golden hairs
Towards my fingers oh so gradually.
I hear the sweet breath of you,
I smell the sweet scent of you,
You are my dearest dream
My heart’s companion, my gentle lover,
My dearest dearest friend.
My DNA has lost its way
I don't know who I am
the double helix strangles me,
can anyone untangle me
or would you leave me dangling,twisting,eroding
slowly in the coding,hanging from the lowest
common denominator,
apeman, ape man ,no escape man
it's all relative
we all sit in the glasshouse and
pretend
that we all live.
Denis Barter Apr 2018
A Judge, once noted for his lack of compassion
Found when sentencing crooks, he’d a passion!
When sitting on the Bench, he was permitted -
Appropriate to misdemeanour committed-
To administer punishment to fit the crime!

With his court full of petty crooks that first day -
Thieves, robbers, swindlers! All found to their dismay,
He would show no mercy!  He could not be swayed!
Once declared, their sentence was never stayed!
Though he would allow them to make their plea!

On his first morning, after he opened court,
He would give judgement on each case brought,
Then once proved beyond a shadow of doubt,
He’d carefully mete apt punishment out,
To each prisoner that came into the dock!

First to come ‘up’, was a ‘known’ lawbreaker!
Though a skilled and ‘rising’  craftsman baker
He’d been caught ‘loafing’ with counterfeit ‘dough’!
Evidence was brought. Police ‘kneaded’ to show
The Court, he never did a thing half ‘baked!’

His legs shackled, - which was no surprise,
Was quickly found Guilty, then told to ‘rise’
So this first crook, a very unhappy wretch
Was sent to ‘Leavenworth’ for a long stretch!
Given five years incarceration, for his crime!

A carpenter was the next to be jailed.
Evidence shown was quite ‘plane’!  When ‘nailed’
By the local Cops, they ‘saw’ he had ‘awl’
The loot he’d ‘chiselled’ from a shopping mall.
The Jury  ‘panel saw’ he’d not got it ‘square’!

So it ‘augered’ ill for the carpenter’s fears
When the Judge ‘ruled’,  ‘free board’ for six years!
This cracked the ‘veneer’ he’d worn though the trial.
For prison ‘drill’ would soon wipe away his smile!
Once ‘clamped’ in irons, with others he ‘filed’ away!

The Butcher was next to find himself in a jamb
He’d sold ‘scrag ends’ for ‘prime’ and mutton for lamb!
When the bare ‘bones’ of his case, were fleshed out,
That he was in the ‘soup’, there was no doubt!
While the police asked that he be sent for the ‘chop’!

The Judge declared the punishment he’d ‘meat’ out
Would break the Butcher’s ‘links’ with crime, and had no doubt.
He’d never ‘carve’ his way out of the ‘joint’!
Without ‘mincing’ words, he ‘skewered’ each point
Explaining his ‘beef’.  He was in a proper ‘stew’!

When Police ‘cottoned’ on to a ‘shoddy’ scam
They caught a tailor, ‘embroidering’ a monogram.
‘Patterned’ after that of a famous fashion designer.
Smuggled out in the ‘seam’ of a jacket ‘liner’
This ‘needled’ the Judge, who, with some ‘zip’

And some ‘bias’, ‘felt’ he should practice ‘needlecraft’,
“Stitching’ mailbags for the post office. Hard graft
For a man who had ‘satin’ comfort for a long time.
But ‘fitting’ punishment for a ‘reel’ bad crime!
He praised the  police for ‘buttoning’ up this case!

When Police ‘forked’ over newly ‘dug’ earth
Their ‘spadework’ ‘dug up’ ‘planted’ goods worth
A fortune .  ‘Raking’ through the ‘compost heap’.
‘Embedded’ by a gardener, were, buried deep,
‘Silver Bells’ and a gold chain! This ‘chain, linked’

‘Fences’ to crooks who stole goods on demand.
He’d ‘staked’ all on being put on remand.
But the Judge said I ‘dig’ your kind! ‘Turn over’
A new ‘leaf.  Mould’ and mend your ways.  Moreover
‘Perennial’ felons! Are ‘rooted’ in their ways!

So, ‘till’ you ‘turn over’ your loot and repent,
You’re ‘grounded’! It seems you’re an ‘annual’ event !
You tell me that with this crime, you’ve been ‘framed’,
But I’m sure you’ve not been unjustly blamed!
Five years in a ‘glasshouse’ to sleep in a ‘raised bed’ !

Next, a Furrier and his girl - a sly ‘minx,’
Who went too ‘fur’ when they ‘stole’ a ‘lynx’
A ‘foxy’ pair!  Of this, there was no doubt!
‘Trapped’ in a Police ‘cloak’ and dagger stakeout
They were loaded with ‘pelts’ when caught

Now the Judge, whose ‘ermine’ robes shook with rage
Said the only cure for this type of outrage,
Was to ‘stretch’ them on the ‘rack’, and ‘tan’ their ‘hides’.
This he ‘felt’ would be ‘fitting’ !  Though his insides
Told him he should send them away!  ‘Furbelow’!

A cobbler, without a ‘sole’!  A ‘ low heel’,
This ‘snob’ with an ‘Oxford Brogue’ had a zeal
For stealing! Not the ‘last’ incarcerated.
He was caught ‘legging’ it, while inebriated
His ‘cleats’ leaving ‘patent’ clues to see!

Wearing ‘rubbers’ he’d work in gloves and ‘spats’
Stealing mainly from apartments and ‘flats’
He was down on his ‘uppers’, quite destitute.
When caught with his heavy bag of loot.
A ‘slippery’ customer if ever there was one!

A ‘dandy’ with a ‘black belt’ in Karate!
Was sent by the Judge to a ‘necktie’ party.
He’d killed a haberdasher, without passion -
He complained it was ‘knot’ the current fashion!
But he could  ‘hang’ around until it returned!

Sentences varied but all were most apt.
Strong men turned deathly pale when his gavel rapped!
By sentences received, none were less enamoured,
Than a crooked auctioneer, who got ‘hammered’!
For ‘knocking down’ ‘lots’ ‘under bid’ to himself!

Crook followed crook in quick succession,
Making quite an impressive procession,
As each took his turn in the prisoner’s dock,
He’d turn and face the courtroom clock,
Under which the Judge sat, with solemn face!

The Judge went down in history that day,
With sentences most apt!  What more can we say?
His procedures quickly made the front page,
And soon appropriate penalties were all the rage!
Except for those of the criminal class!

This punishment proved to be a deterrent.
More so, if they were set to run concurrent!
As for waiting crooks, from Con Artist to thief,
When he adjourned court, they sighed with relief!
Hoping they’d get a more lenient Judge later!

Rhymer April 18th, 2018.
Sorry, it's tad long, but I got carried away!  Lol.
Sarina Jul 2013
Someone should explain to my parents that I have
very good reasons for liking other girls – for example, fields of flowers.
My mother, the gardener, must see the way our long hair
meets and forms an orchard
when I sleep beside a beautiful woman. Translucent
wrists, veins folded into a glasshouse –
if she wants to know how I can hold another girl’s hand, tell her that.
Farthest thing from unnatural, tell my mom
about how she and I build whole habitats when we touch – earth’s
parents, this is our offspring
trailing up everyone’s spine, curling around raspberries
as a toddler would climb onto furniture. Tell my parents that
I am not a lesbian to spite anyone, but
because I loved Mother Nature so much I thought there should be two.
Bad decisions from.poor livin'
Doin' time in Reapers Prison
Since Hells risen Pistols grinin'
Cuz the world's deep sinnin'
minds drippin'
From bleedin' through knowledge & pain
Some say I'm insane strain cuz I feed my brain
**** and Hennessey
Puffin' with my homies
on the block
Posted up lookin' for the 502 that's corrupt
Beyond that I polish my gat
Cuz there's always a ****** after midnight
Get my head right but my thoughts loose
no screws in it
I'm.in to win it
vanishin' demons now I'm replenished
Adversaries couldn't repent from it
Now they restin' in lovely caskets I'm drastic
Cold heartless *******
Feel like the world is mine entice by crime
In these hard times
I try to keep peace but always find an adversary
Always tryna bury me
I feel like Jesus at the age of thirty three
My half been ****** since he left Bethelham
On The Lords land through the deserts burning sands
Bringin' Vengeance Upon Pharaohs kids with blood in hands
Got ****! I'm seeing history repeat itself
From past times keep my head above the rim
Is it me she he or him
Devils lookin' grim uh
Demons come guised as an angel
Ain't nothing strange Momma
We was made from love
Though we faced with Drama
From coke **** to ****** *******
Endurin' heat in the heart of the streets
They try to enforce on ya flushin' ya
Makin' hell for a hustla

witness my strap as i slap
these ******* rhymers into a nap **** this aint about rap
its deeper than that
im tryna take my roots back
im black as the fugees in 96
deep in the mix of ****
**** the record execs
scared of me cuz im a one man threat
like makaveli shots to my belly
ill still live on get my puff on
same ol song im breakin down the industry
and exposing all my enemies
watch em bleed in glee
im livin recklessly no mercy from me
im.comin with fire and brimstone
dont throw stones
at glasshouse
unless ya wanna be doused
in gasoline   high octane
im coming wicked from my brain
embrace my pain
envisioned prophecy of all my
enemies slain
******* is thing of the past
they try to **** me
but i broke free from the
drug community
peepin' me i see ya five os
peepin in my window
but i got guns for ya
hidin like malcolm with an ak ready slay
any ***** or body
know the art of war
when ***** muthaphukkaz tried to rush ya crush ya
but i **** first
**** they make hell for hustla
Noor Feb 2015
Have you ever wandered to the beach
But didn't get to see the shore?
Have you ever spent centuries trying to sleep
Although the sun, never have risen anymore
Have the walls within you shattered like a bullet through a glasshouse, but you failed to make a noise?

I once had a dream
I have visited the black long dresses people I once loved at my funeral
I tried to escape but the flowers they have laid above my casket formed an unbrokable shield
A sadness so deep with it's no longer a feeling but a madness with no cure for
You poured salt over the wounds i seeked for you to heal

Grab my hand
Pull me away from this sea
I'm drowning though I once knew how to swim
Pull me away from my misery
Cure this insanity residing within
Rescue me, I cannot stand on my own two feet

Rescue me, have me yours to keep.
yo **** the media the press
and all they stress the south linked with the west
ya get two of the best i guess
you muthaphukkas thought i was dead
naw just took a power nap as i slap
the industry with these dusty *** raps
I'm platinum plus plus check my artillery surplus
we got killas on every corner
do what i wanna and how i wanna
smoke mirajuiana with some killaz in Tijuana
Mexico don't flex though **
unless ya wanna be in the ground
sounds of H-town so bow down bow down
as i let my clip ride bound to be a homicide
you can run but ya cant hide
from the south or westside
we connected like bonny and clyde
now show me that whooo ride?
check the pumps by my side thats how we ride
guerillas with a bunch of triggers don't call us ******
call us finanical settlers like the rockerfellers
did they tell ya
that I'm an enemy to the establishment
dollaz n sense i see you running to the fence
but cant get over
cuz these bullets stick to ya head over shoulders
so ya life is over
call out for the Jehovah
ya know ya dead ****** red
and you quote what i said
take to the magazine
i pack magazines ******* and ya skinny jeans
i prefer gangsta **** with suits on
like Al Capone
beatin' on my chest like King Kong
protector of Skull Island while y'all smilin' im wildin'
no koolaid in my blood
we keep it true **** the FBI NSA and they crew
revolutions in position pistols is grinin'
castin' stones at glasshouse and watch the White House get doused
up in flames by angry citizens growin' deranged
Ryan O'Leary Jun 2018
I watched in reflection,
  butterflies agitated by
       a window pane.

Their shadows, but serfs
to reality and glass the
   pale of their enclave.
Rio Jul 2018
Your reddening face transformed into a swirly Van Gogh painting in front of me,
The tears swelling in my eyes acted as the water put to the canvas,
My eyelashes the paintbrush,
Every blink causing the colours to blotch and streak before me.
The last kiss sounded like an entire glasshouse shattering,
There became an uproar in my head,
Chaos broke out.
You were still in front of me, although this time you didn’t treat my wounds,
My feet were cut from the glass but you didn’t tend to them,
My blood was spilling across the floor but you didn’t help me to mop it,
Not this time.
Not anymore,
You said you had run out of bandages to aid me now,
You said it had got too much,
It had got too much for you,
For you.
I am the one drowning in my own blood and it has got too much for you?
I cling to your arm, expecting you to haul me out of the depths as you usually do,
But your skin begins to dissolve,
You turn and leave,
I sink lower and lower into the cavernous darkness that I know all too well.
Slowly but surely the darkness slithers beneath my fingernails, slicing back my flesh,
The darkness makes a home within my body,
Claiming it as her own,
Driving home I see a possum that had been hit, I realise our hearts are beating in a similar slow, pulsating beat, we are both being left to die.
a painful kind of break up
Jill Oct 4
Mimosa pudica retreat
Humid glasshouse, rainy day
Pane-separated from the world
Exhaling foggy vagueness
Colours run wet
World through window walls,
a distorted Monet reproduction
Morphing, mixing, mushy
Each canvas exists for a sliding second
Glass and breath
Collaborating through condensation
Our fuzzy-haze masterwork

Panoramic gossamer lens
Magically softens
spiky, scratchy, sharp, crispness
into a smudgy simulacrum
A kind deceit
Frowns, scowls, growls,
and bared-toothy rage,
all smeared
Gently redacted
Calm, dreamy, pillowscape broadcast
Impressionist buffer
In muted pastels

Reality in artful disguise
Remoulded for ease of consumption
Sugary spoonful of subterfuge
Sifting, sorting, selective
Incomplete and fragmentary
Blur-clouded brain-break
Intermittent extra distance
Breath-focused,
soupy-warm,
momentary masterpiece
Just for me
Until my leaves unfurl
©2024

BLT Webster’s Word of the Day challenge (gossamer) date 4th October 2024. Very light or delicate.

Mimosa pudica is a small shrub, often referred to as the Sensitive Plant, the Shameful Plant, or the Touch-me-not Plant. The leaves curl up when touched.
Heleli Jan 2016
On a static evening
Couldn't move my hands
Couldn't wait again

The mechanism's been failing
Couldn't look the other way
Couldn't think of something else

It's a glasshouse I'm living in
And the air has filtered in
I'm breathing all of time and space
And feeling all my wounds and theirs

It's probably some word you said
Or a strange movement someone made
The colors of the streets at night
That displaced something in my head

Is there anything good to say
Anything that could make a mends
Gathered the strength and closed my eyes                          
Trying to fly over myself
I’m going to be honest
I never wanted to put down any piece of this nature again
But anytime I woke up,  I want to write about you
What could I possibly write when I am not much of a poet
And it  appears as if no metaphor could  satisfy my admiration for you.

And then,  I want to speak to you
Not only because I want to know how you are,
I also want to unzip my heart to you,
To tell you that you are the joy in a glasshouse, you are beautiful, magnificent and heavenly adorned and I yearn for you.
And then, I realized that my speech tract couldn’t  let out the words from my heart.

Sometimes I wonder why this is happening,
I know, I could talk like a parrot anytime I want to
But I got slides like a carrot when I hear the vibration in your voice.

I must have written some similar stuffs like this,  hoping that somehow  you’ll jump out of the page and feel exactly as I feel,but fortunately all I get is thanks.

You know, I also love chatting with you  but anytime you replied
It appears  as if we are like charges,  so we repel (I won't know what next to say).

The amazing thing is, as all these keeps happening
These feelings I have for you keep getting stronger despite the fact that it seems we are not so connected
But connection isn’t love,  you are naturally attracted to my soul.

Though I could not find a perfect explanation to this puzzle,
But I know from the deepest part of my heart that I love  you.
And this love is patient, it’s strong,  it’s not a deception but true, it’s not Haram but Halal
It’s hopeful and powerful, it’s not my choice but divine just as you, is an attraction and irresistible.
Stu Harley Sep 2014
beauty
shall live
her life
inside of the
glasshouse of
pains and lies
i am sure
while
beauty lives
next door
Now really peep the game though
Gotta change my scenario
Sit back and charge a cigarillo
Stop ******* with them kilos
Hopped from a Benzo to low low
Glasshouse with the pokin' 84s
Foes is hoppin'  guns is poppin'
Body droppin'
Once I let off aint non stoppin'
Claimin' I'm insanity in these streets
Wish I never met pistol pete
Cuz of life he greets
In the presence of where
Darkness meets
And enemies love to compete
But everyday is a battle
Stuck In a. Give with 24 **** hours to live
Yeah


So beautiful life used to be
Well hell naw lets turned
Back to slavery
Where all of my peeps used to see
Bright and sunnt
Locked in whips and chains
For the entertainment industry
Now that I gotten a little wiser
My mind explodes like a geyser
On the earth in the wind
Blowin fire hot as a dryer
To my flows I kick ya desire
Many rhymes come in a style
Been a wild since I was a child
Played foul never did I smile
I'm givin sonic booms like guile
Been while
Since I step on the scene
Mean as Joe Greene
Aimmin' macks at soft peens
Being a hero ain't what it really means.and it seems
No matter how hard I fight live
I only got 24 mo' to give 24 hours to live
this is an autobiography
that was never meant to be
by ruined writing
in close proximity to my imagined enemies
most people look at you and see
what they want to see
what they want you to be
when they try to talk to me
like I’m coasting in fantasy
like I live in liquid dreaming
like the point wasn’t missed completely
like I love to hate myself constantly
destroying yourself is easy
when you already live in hiding
learn this, protest that,
protest, protest, protest
with plastic signs over the child labor on your back
do your best and use all your influence to help
when your done throw all the clothes and signs in the trash
use, use, use, each piece of your contracted shell
let me come into this, let me come help
a barn-burning beast/\waving a rawhide flag in hell
and in the confusion of the swell
the world would pause in violet while i immolate myself
I just want God to help
finish what he started
when he crafted a trenchant well
filled it with poison(left to our own devices)
formed a base with rotting corpses(and the wings of fallen angels)
then crafted a mountain of material wealth
where he strokes his giant Lucifer
over the sad orphan eyes of heavens window wells
teach us something that is ******* worth knowing
away from self importance through blunted stories
please show me - echelon these KINGS
faceless banners raising war torn cities inside of me
or show us how to take old bones from peaceful death
and transmute them +multiply them into water and bread
or how to relieve out my pores
and bleed out this stress
or to how fall onto the floor
and end up somewhere next to heaven
lights:
friends of friends of friends, magnanimous pretense
exit, we escape to enter again

nights:
drinks and lead
absinthe, escaped just to enter again

life:
it’s reaching for a bottle high up on a shelf
Never learned how to live after spilling milk
makes me panic hard alone and wanna **** myself

death:
glasshouse debris pours out
and the skin won’t grow back
nails curl onto coffin doors
with all the SAD/] SAD[/SADDD
where the parasites are only Jesus
with diamond fangs and silver masks
Breakwater Mar 2020
If you were here next to me, you'd speak of times I can only dream, even there I'm reeling, touching walls, so needing.

Waking up feels like home, at nights I seem to want more, forgetting that past is living, only in dreams so vivid.

We are hurricanes of the great glasshouse, lonely ones with fear to espouse, the fear of something haunting us, thus the estrangement, thus our society's arrangement.

Funny how we remember and forget, is it because of now, or the past?

Like vapour and mist, like dreams and memories, I smile upon you dear past.

Reflections in the great glasshouse, for us to see.
Born into madness, how can I find gladness, amongst the evil list,
Certified lunatics, spinning the globe, shots of chaos in ya earlobe,
Rising the thresold, where the soul is scold, from day one was told,
You can be, anything you wanna be, but they hold up the secrecy,
In society, skulls and bones, linked with the boule families,
Bourgeoisie, they feast on the good plenty, soldiers made for the Guinea,
Pigs I see the digs, dug out the roots, of the poisonous tree, let free,
Of the fruits, rottenning thee, whole humanity, as a society,
Quietly I stood on the mountain to see, what Moses and Noah, had to see,
My legacy probably, well never be, remembered, shed prophecy,
Watch the wave of the bees, if they disappear down goes, nature's beauty,
Yo it's my duty, to the save the world, from its own pain weighing in curls,
Separate the boys, from girls, no drags queens, or chemical doping,
Im still hoping, that folks dont play along, the hearts that scoping,
Pain bearer, made in the fear of terror, I take close notes to the era,
Cant compare, the last centuries, strike with atrocity, devil the new majesty,





Haiti president got shot, because he went against the plot,
See how the media stocks, glasshouse thoughts makes for rocks,
Easily, to crash your political slot, I play the corners like Ronnie Lott,
Midway welcome to midevil payday, where haters get all the say,
Frame society, like they did Roger, Cosby set up the man slaughter,
Defame ya character, and your name, well that's the cost of fame,
Just get your soul engrained, to the bricks of shame, black satan frame,
And people still walk over your name, folks ain't thinking the same,
Exchange paychecks, for more paychecks, freedom losing its gains,
I pack more venom, than Bane or a fiend hooking for a vein,
Thin walls, hear things spirit sibling, still holding gossip, dripping,
Pass the lane, like Cousy choosey, but please dont loose me,
Light doobies, sprinkle chaos to those haters, that tried to ***** me,
Forces more linked than Kinobe, never challenge the Shinobi,
Vengeance strikes, wrath of a snake bite, let the poison sit, as you spit,
Out blood soaking in your inside, similar to bee guarding its raw hive,
Scarlet McCall Feb 2020
Buzz
From HortiDaily: "In a few countries, bumblebees are not available and manual pollination must be used... It pays to remember.. that without proper pollination a tomato plant will not produce premium fruit.
When tomato plants are pollinated manually, the best method is by using electric bees. These are battery operated vibrators. Staff must vibrate every plant in the glasshouse three times per week "

Tomatoes won’t ripen right
without pollination.
It helps to have a bumblebee
to give that good vibration.
But if you lack the bumble,
there’s another way, you see:
Your plants all can be pollinated
manually.
You will need to use some labor,
and wield a good *******--
the electric bee will soon become
your best-loved pollinator.
Your fruit is premium
and you’ll want to keep its savor.
don't know why this poem disappeared from my profile
Ryan O'Leary Jun 2018
If I lived in a glasshouse, why would i need
a mirror, when everyone else could see me.
Used to scrappin' for crumbs of kingdom slums but dumb dumbs
To stupid to see how they numb our brains
Endure pain begins a migraine stains
Left all over the earth for what's its worth
I'm tryna avoid gospels of hard concave shells
Hallow points to anoint my joints see points
I made sweet glasshouse rocking shades
Watch for my pocket blades serenade we paid
Haters mad cuz they girls wanna get laid
Ya bills up cold corrupt erupt the
Diamond in the rough thief's  come humble
But don't wanna rumble I the jungle
Hard to break the struggles tied to the ghetto
Used think hardest thoughts on the pillow
Talking amongst the gods about the odds
Getting even Stevens hard to believe in
These lies folding then unfolding scolding
My opponents with proper positions
Focus my ambitions still wishin'
Upon a star see me gas the cars moon rockets
Twist it like socket open my third eye prophet
Never forget where my first head laid off to rest
Under the moon crest hustling just to get rich...


Since Nas said lifes a ***** with an unhealed stitch
I'm sittin' at the judges bench eternal clench
Game recognize game all haters the same lames
Love to floss names gotta bad dame tamed
Put her in the flames watch her burn others fame
No shame in my queens carribeans I claim
Illuminati just want my body
To up they shipping sales of fearin' fairytale
Broke from the stale wells put forth my own will
Destiny was the closet chick to me plus she
Made a way for us to escape off in the windy
city shows no pity to those hiddin' false witty
button mouths like hello city shout out to the committee
keep me posted far from toasted boasted
Never only to myself guard my wealth my health
sitting good chillin' in the dogwoods
Blazin' stashed blackwood's with burning woods
Mesquite massaged my ladies feet repeat
Life's a recorder soon to see the ending reporter
Deaths has patience but reality a choice of hesitance scared to go the distance
Looking for my enemies they know who the **** they are
Look me in my eyes before you let the bullets release  
Let my heartrate ceased no justice no **** peace
As my blood increase over the concrete the police
Snapping my shots eyes open body slowing in a rot
There I was with a circle of thugs around me like a hug
No more bugs of drama **** my baby mamaz trauma
Invoke on my family they made a better man of me
Now I see peace on the other side of humanity finally
Me and god smoking cigars cruising on clouds in a jaguar
Glasshouse looking good see all my fallen homes from the hood
And there I stood giving me dabs still busting my raps
With the mic in my hand burning like a candle brim tilted halo


Learned the rules to Sun Tzu so what the **** ya gone do
When a crew roll up on you switched up my view made the news
Early but surely still blazing my blunts cherries rarely
Seen the sunshine only when the guns taps a soul flatline
Doctors tryna operate but my body holding on for dear fate
Wait I'm stuck in between two worlds faith see much hate
How can I shake the sadness demons clinging on madness
Huh wish I was never born wouldn't even have to face a storm
Feels like my life is **** getting ****** over by media soldiers
They love to  see ya die then make profits off of bitter lies
Nobody cries for the African babies who died but folks cried
For the politicians who constantly lie
Fried died laid to the side
Tales from the raw hide see how many souls wanna collide

— The End —