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"gobbing" poems
Veins, veins, length and breadth, intertwined beats to freedom or desolation; a terminus lost on a circular. An ebbing destination, unchartered targets, Follow the signs. We are a one way street, follow the signs on software maps. Stumped by sequential lights and us, caught in a dragnet within steely fish, gasping for air, choking on smoke, bilious coughs, hacking sputum, gobbing phlegm globs in interval gaps within gridlocks; nose to **** to nose to **** The rage, the stares the shouts, the finger, the Grrr’s, the Rrrr’s, the honks, the blares, the bumper to bumper expletive shares. The rolling down, the alighting, the threats, the fighting. The falling down, the separation, reseating, the rolling, the thunder, the trudge, the stops, the starts. Follow the signs, follow the signs. Robotic conveyors for humans, mechanical fossil fueled chariots, grumbling, grunting, wheee-ing and screeching, and screaming and spewing and chuffing and guffing black plumes, air tarred, veins, veins clogged and bogged, viscous, molasses, liquid black blob. Road fogged, numbers logged. Veins, veins, follow the signs, slow crawl. Veins, veins, follow the signs, follow the signs, sprawl. Copyright Marc Hawkins 2017
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Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 6:20 AM UTC
SPRAWL
All we get is rhetoric,they're just gobbing off and I'm sick of it we ought to send the ****** lot down the pit I'm so frustrated I could spit. They're bearing down on me in Downing street, building high rise homes but tearing down the street where I grew up,it makes me want to throw up,show up with a deputation to state the case for conservation,but they never listen to the likes of me, that's democracy,a bunch of scheming hypocrites sitting in their leather seats and tearing down my ****** streets,the ones where I grew up. Well, **** me, fracking's got to be the only saving grace I see,they say they'll frack far,far below, ha, so them ******** at the top will be the first to know when the whole world falls apart and the last to bleedin' go.
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Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 3:42 PM UTC
Backbenchers
There was once a random fusion of cells who answered to the combination of sounds that when ordered in a particular way together said: 'G E O R G E' and he fumbled and stumbled and over used his words, and one could hear him from miles around gobbing and yobbing. Just one big sound. That tongue never stopped rolling, and noise never stopped emanating. A walking compressment of carbon molecules in-disguise, his secret persona being a speaker. And he would speak out of his sickingly momentous beak. And make others quite tired and weak.. All hours for a whole week an infinite roll a pancake chatter. natter and tatter a roll of noise a one man band come splattering and chattering in through your life and then he would yell over the hill again. And like in some chapter book in the law of physics it is often understood that when a subject something exhibiting noise gets further and further away from the subject, the sound becomes less and less due to distance. This does not apply to a George. And like the sound barrier, WHY.. what is this sound BARRIER you speak of? if you go to this such barrier, and take a left and follow this ruckus of English yells you shall find him somewhere way above yonder. Having a *** and having a ponder, who ever knew you could do this so loudly? who ever knew one took this so proudly. Inhaling oxygen.. exhaling carbon dioxide? Inhaling? Nein. drawing breath? why does one need rest? valuable seconds are wasting, I need to keep on sound demonstrating.
0
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 6:45 AM UTC
George.
There was once a random fusion of cells who answered to the combination of sounds that when ordered in a particular way together said: 'G E O R G E' and he fumbled and stumbled and over used his words, and one could hear him from miles around gobbing and yobbing. Just one big sound. That tongue never stopped rolling, and noise never stopped emanating. A walking compressment of carbon molecules in-disguise, his secret persona being a speaker. And he would speak out of his sickingly momentous beak. And make others quite tired and weak.. All hours for a whole week an infinite roll a pancake chatter. natter and tatter a roll of noise a one man band come splattering and chattering in through your life and then he would yell over the hill again. And like in some chapter book in the law of physics it is often understood that when a subject something exhibiting noise gets further and further away from the subject, the sound becomes less and less due to distance. This does not apply to a George. And like the sound barrier, WHY.. what is this sound BARRIER you speak of? if you go to this such barrier, and take a left and follow this ruckus of English yells you shall find him somewhere way above yonder. Having a *** and having a ponder, who ever knew you could do this so loudly? who ever knew one took this so proudly. Inhaling oxygen.. exhaling carbon dioxide? Inhaling? Nein. drawing breath? why does one need rest? valuable seconds are wasting, I need to keep on sound demonstrating.
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20
a glum thickly dolloping gray today to day i say this day i say today today (a lip is twice as thick when knuckles tumble rumble numbly bumble over pearled lengths of ivory smearing in his gobbing gabbing moral oral silence bruising orifice) in class listening shortly to hard and bitter wafts arrogant and nimbly shoveled "he was 20lbs heavier than me"
0
Apr 18, 2011
Apr 18, 2011 at 11:50 PM UTC
Untitled
i just can't take U.S.A. with its Jesus cults seriously, i rather take on Cuba and the banana republics for something to think about... sorry... europe did away with jesus a long time ago, unearthing the Nag Hammadi library doesn't mean a revival if it only produces the Templars' idol (Baphomet); remember too unearthing the Dead Sea scrolls and how Isaiah was cut in half... you're either with one, or the other... either the one crucified or the other dismembered at the abdomen i.e. cut in half - and indeed Muhammad is a peculiar sight, book in hand, with Socrates and Jesus gobbing their dues into what the paparazzi would consider eyes' worth of capture / celebrity status and carelessness in mind of want of literacy; was it really about a library with only one book in it?
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May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 6:46 PM UTC
Jesus U.S.A.