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Mike T Minehan Apr 2013
I like a whole lip-smacking smorgasbord of words,
such as preposterous and scrumptious,
sumptuous and curious,
roiling, rambunctious and trumpeting,
priapic, satyric and seraphic,
satyriasis and mimesis. Now this mimesis is the imitative
representation of nature and behavior in art and literature,
which is a pretentious way of trying to say what us writers do.
But hey, we don't just mimic things,
we can be sagacious and salacious, too.
Accordingly, I also like *******, which has a liquid sound,
and I'm not being facetious to suggest that
******* has a close connection to callipygous.
Then, for those who are suspicious of the libidinous,
I also like curmudgeonly and bodacious,
loquacious, precocious and pulchritudinous,
lubricious and fugacious,
scripturient, radiance, iridescence and magnificence,
lissome, lithe and languid (but not too limp),
shimmering and diaphanous, effulgent and evanescent,
flamboyant, fandango and flibbertigibbet,
(although this is difficult to say when you’re drunk),
voluptuous and vertiginous, slithery, **** and glistening.
And when I include crepuscular, strumpet and strawberry,
I may as well add whipped cream
as well, because this can be laid on in dollops,
and dollops is really an excellent word
along with slurping and *******, too.
Actually, I'm very flexible about words,
because in my lexicon, low moaning noises are OK, too.
These sounds come from the chord of creation
which is a sort of reverberation from the time of
primordial ooze, which I would like to squish between my toes.
Then there's protozoa, spermatozoa and also
wriggling flagella everywhere. So there.
But words don't even need to make sense,
because sweet nothings can say everything,
and heavy breathing can be ******,
even rhapsodic, ending in delirium.
Titillating should be in here too, because we all need
some tintinnabulation and tickling of the senses sometimes.
I've also decided that fecund is my second favorite word after love.
Fecund sounds abrupt, but it buds magnificently
in ******* and bellies to burgeon in absolute abundance,
everywhere. This brings me to *******, which I like, too.
I'm also partial to proud words, including bold, bulging and
brazen, along with a bit of swaggering braggadocio.
Then I like some big words, like brobdingnagian,
although I hope I'm not sesquipedalian.
Salivate is a word to celebrate as well,
along with onomatopoeia that helps choose some words here.
Drooling is highly evocative, too,
and it's not being provocative to observe that
even weapons drool when they're in the wrong hands.
And I shouldn't leave out *******, as you would expect,
because ****** is a sort of rippling word
that rhymes with spasm. Both sound deceptively simple,
but by golly, they can be intensely gripping.
And really, it's alright to writhe to this occasion
because all of us writers should endeavor
to have some good writhing in our oeuvre.
Even some bad writhing can be lots of fun, too.
But I almost forgot to mention yearning and burning (with desire)
and vulviform, velvet and venerous.
Yippee, yee har and hollerin' along with other exclamations
of exhortatory exuberance should be in this index, too.
Now. The words I don’t like include no, can’t, never,
stop and mustn’t. Also, irascible and intractable,
unmentionable, ineffable, inexpressible, incoherent,
immutable, impotent and impossible.
Then I don't like importune and misfortune,
and I don't know who thought up unthinkable,
because this is an oxymoron.
Inscrutable is also a complete cop out,
especially when there's no such word as scrutable.
Gawping, gaping, cavernous and cretinous, obsequious,
grovelling, pursed lips, circuitous,
obfuscation and isolation, unpalatable,
cruelty, tyranny and hypocrisy,
should also get the heave-**.
And I definitely don't like parsimonious and mendicant,
which are miserable words.
Quitting doesn't get there either,
and shut the **** up and ******* should also be taboo.
Also, hopeless is, really, well, it's hopeless
because it denies hope, and hope is buoyant and boundless.
I mean, sometimes hope is all we have.
But the word I dislike most is ****,
because this is an insulting word, and
to be taxonomical,
the negative score of this word is astronomical.
Hate is also right up there on this list. Hate is abominable
because it tries to destroy love, and love is indomitable.
Indomitable
is the
mightiest
word
of them all.
Yeah. So there.

Mike T Minehan
II felt good after writing this - it was a bit like purging the personal dictionary in my head. I think all of us could write our own list...
KILLME Feb 2014
I don't appreciate
bleeding for nine days straight
Flow so heavy I wanna die
at the silliest things I start to cry
the annoying things never made me twitch
but now I just go full *****
I just lie around like a lump
And everything, I want to ****
Simply, I have no motivation
Golly Don't I hate *******
Nico Julleza Jul 2017
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
A little bit of summer
a little bit of breeze
in the days of warmer
love has so much-
to bring, come let us sing

A little bit of freesia
a little bit of lilac
never can resist a scent
-of Ms. Narine
Ogles, a morning scene

A little bit of sunshine
a little bit of eventide
caress upon the shores
-of such imagery,
passions of immortality

A little bit of cosmos
a little bit of crocus
in a glebe-like galaxy
stars white as daphne
from a garden of syzygy

A little bit of cerulean
a little bit of vermilion
shimmers the lucid lake
with trout's and doves
Golly! autumn is awake

A little bit of plowing
a little bit of sow
the hard workers of
-those pumpkins
reaps a stewful of zin

A little bit of snow
a little bit of flail
fly away as butterflies
hibernate as snails
Forging! a winters gale

A little bit of details
a little bit of trail
from dew drops of-
a frozen rose, icicles on
a drowsy bear’s nose

A little bit of sleeping
a little bit of wait
till the sun comes up  
gray clouds strew away
spring is here to stay

A little bit of sprout
a little bit of grow
And can it be, on thee
an Epiphany shows
the Lords glorious prose
#sing #flowers #seasons #nature #God #colors

Thank-you soo much for all the great poet who red, liked, and commented on this poem.

Don't you just sigh when Seasons Sing...?

(NCJ)POETRYProductions. ©2017
Vivian Jan 2013
golly gee
the yellow moon
and the hairs on the back of your neck

I think I saw a miracle tonight
in your eyes

ski socks on
with model clay in my hands
and a sweet face that smells like cherry pie

do I rely
on make-believe books
or real life
parallels
or the corners
and nooks

of a life far away
not of mine
but in me

oh how silly and lovely these days
Tonight I said goodbye,
Laid down to sleep and die,
Knew that the morning would be,
Without me don't you see?

Lost faith in everything,
No miracles to come and bring,
Gave up with my last folly,
I'm dying, oh by golly.

Can't be a hard thing to do,
Don't expect you'll shed boo hoo,
Looked into the abyss and knew,
This was the thing to do.

So, goodnight sweet prince I go,
To the darkness don't you know,
No more on Earth to wander,
No more the hurt and blunder.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2018
Weave we've woven a web...
What I said, what I said, what I said
we been sayin all a long

Oh the futurists mythed the inter-resting-time

This man fears population explosions, he is speaking in 1991,

I'd built my great 100 by 75 miles ten stories building resting place where ten billion story tellers could hide and watch whaat's
comin' down.
By then, decades before, in the desert twixt Vegas and L.A.
I asked this guy who actually wanted in my pants,
I sat on the window silly V double you, did he know,
I asked, no, I told him, after I had been starring at the stars for some time, this time that'ime, when I think about it,
I told that guy the whole world was waiting,
suffering,
await'n' the frontal cortex maturation of the sons 'oGod.
I said "and I'm one." Don't touch.

My private calfornia became my private arizona and neo and river chose idaho, ( no, that idaho, that was a movie-story)... not part of the rite

that was the legend of the clan, when we had electrix. That ride set an I'll-go-rythm of if/then/else switches to HIGH honor if-ic.
If.
If you can keep your head... the rest, true rest, is history.

we know a voice who swore he was there when "Been there, done that"
became an
eternal cliche of the gods.

We are participating in the future. We are thinking.

---
that hapt the same night as the discovery of the perfect-ish
four sided pyramid of charcoal brickets burning one
at at at a time
touch another to the glowing pile on the sand...
(audio)
=====
why are ficts so far from the facts in the matters that matter

re-lig-em leg-it-am-it-all, damitalkenslowdown

so re-lig me to my ide-idea, beware

We seen this coming do you? This is thirty years ago we know, this we know this we

we are in sanity, as insanity is the only way to packitin
sane sorts of things that all must touch in order
to re
main sane. You know, you know. That makes lying im-possible or null-possil-be
per se.
Word.Righton. Trooph truckah! ToA allaway Found

a calico cat of the old school sawdust variety.
if you,
if you see her, please de-if her re-onance, it's chipped.
You can keep her, if I can say such things here and not be thought an ownery old cuss,
clammering through empty lobster tails to see what the attraction may have been,

Back. Then we are not
off track or trail, etched acid canyon of silicon paved with godelsufferingold, by golly, I'd be live if I could see my way clear to walk such streets at
the speed of light
no, gravity and no, too slow,
thought.
ought... that's a thought
not... that's a thought
ought... that's a differ'nt thought, takes time...
that's a thought you could spend thinking it. You get nowhere.
now and then we find clusters of ideas in time, as if they buble from some spring in the headwaters of the mind we matter in

Der Lesenmann, bitte, kanst do lesen? O h, dear reader, take my hand, my phantom hand, the one I never lost, tell me

did you enjoy our journey, so far...

Weave a ways, weave a ways to go. If this and that cross
again
we may hear what that preach meant to say, thaat day
o'visitation, way back when.

olden time. grand mals time to meditate sign-ate de-sign-ate,

Dada do we know when we know, when we are two and the past is, too.
Papa do you know the big bang is the answer everyone found, in the olden days when you were ten?
Oh I read about that backthen, I was twelve. Weekly Reader kept my gang informed, or Me, and I told all my friends, my listeners who did not read but needed to pass the current events test.
Now, we all a passin' those ****** one time at atime

Upon my word, begin...
This sprang from a 1991 discussion about the world wide web, in which Terrence McKenna  Ruper Sheldrake began to imagine the world we live in post Y2K and  9-11 and 420 and Prop 64, where are you
L B Sep 2012
the girl was always strange...a little different from the rest...she stayed to herself in her room after school...and loved animals the best...talked to them out loud in funny voices...her long hair covering her face and eyes...so one day it really came as no surprise to her to find she was growing a funny bump on her backside...that sorta looked like a tail...at first it was easy to hide...she stuffed it in her pants and no one was wiser...except it felt a bit strange sitting on that thing...and when she was happy, darned if it didn't start to wag...all by itself...a few weeks went by and that tail started growing...longer and furry red like a setter dog...at least the back part anyhow....and her parents wondered why she never wore shorts anymore...one day she answered a question at school...and a happy bark slipped out of her mouth!....classmates eyes round looking at her...teacher smiled and thought it was a joke...of course that is how she passed it off...but by golly if she didn't control... her cheers for a team....yips and growls popped out in excitement...her friends really thought she was strange...but the more it happened the more the girl liked it...she enjoyed being different...and by golly...her dog loved her just the same (as he always did.)..but her folks wondered why there were furry dog hairs inside her clothes...just down the one pants leg...hmmm...
well that gal grew mighty strange...funny things like barks and howls sang out in the middle of church choir....they started calling her wolf girl at school....and darned if her ears didn't start pointing at that remark...at night she'd stick her head out the door...gaze at the street waiting for a bark...from a little yorky across the street...and when that dog caught sight of her... man...the barks went crazy...all from her!....soon she got the urge to run...so down she went when no one was about...and raced like the wind on all fours...man she could rip...faster than her dog...they'd zoom about the back yard...after a ball...and she caught it first...parents watching her one day...seeing her playing like a pooch...worried the heck out of them...they wondered what to do...they took her to a doctor...doctor saw that growing tail...well he scratched his head in puzzlement...and darned if the girl didn't lick his face!....and offer him her hand to shake...like a dog!....well time went on since then...that girl is still stranger than strange...running round barking scratching at fleas...got a collar now and tags that say her name....guess she's got the best of both worlds..being human...and being man's best friend...''

by L B
Reece Jan 2013
FIRE! FIRE! BE GONE ****** FIRE, I HATE...

O heavens, I'm sorry... I- hmm. Look, it was only four years and a handful of months ago that we met first. Me taking a thoughtful step from the step of my back door.
That face so delectable and now so distasteful. You broke me, woman, you broke me.
I pondered for so long, the demise of our world. The inevitable freezing of a seemingly indestructible cosmos. The cascade of hellfire from heavens unknown. Oh and the uncivilized beasts from the sky. Wise beyond our years, dangerous in theirs.
You broke me you broke me, ***** of my dreams, you broke me.
Step away from mine, the ****** hands of murderers and devils. Take in yours the safety you dreamed.
For I am but a tyrant in your ethereal presence.
                                                        
These walls close too fast for such a man... I'm no such thing though.
Brother, oh brother quit being dead, incorrigible fool. Rise from your own heaven of concrete and leaden death. Stupid man.
She. She did this. Taking to your arms each night, returning with your scent. WE ARE ANIMALS YOU FOOL! Did you assume..? Never mind.
But still you lay, dead, foolish.
Gasoline, oh gee golly gosh the smell of gasoline. Sweet petroleum of these masters of ours. ExxonMobil, Shell Oil, BP (oh BP you fastidious harlot), BG, Premier and Chevron. I pray you all burn like my dear poor friend/fiend here. I pray to a non-existent God, of course.
Oh sweet embers, the fire, thee fire. *******, the fire. I hate what you have made of me.

A beastly man, bearded and uncouth. My tooth, my tooth.
My tooth it pains me on a daily basis. My gums are that of a ninety year old **** smoker. Black, rotting, stinking. Parallels of my life, I suppose. Teeth,  dreadful, dying, dead, deathlike, decaying, Dickensian, dark, damp, d... d- **** it. Years of poor hygiene, years I focused my full attention on my love, my life, my sweet innocent beautiful flower of the wild world and the wooded wonderland of Whinfell.

Now you have gone, I feel empty. No, I shall cease to make such mistakes in my off handed ramblings. I shall seek my thesaurus...
My dear love, now that you have deserted my soul and destroyed my world and very reason for living. I feel ever so depleted, hollow, cavernous and wanting. Sweet sweet child, I pray to my non-conformist God, that of imagination and speculation. The veritable Frankenstein of philosophical and spiritual distortion; I pray he guides you safely through these stormy nights and past the cliffs of disturbed memories. I pray he holds you close to his chest and reveres your silken thighs without touch.

**** ME, PLEASE GOD ****. ME.
The embers of my kin simmer to a pedestrian crackle. The cackle the cackle, my voice is a cackle and I hate it. Dried remnants and burned ones too. I can't help but smile as I remember running through the fields behind my home, where the thieves and the addicts roamed. Child like fascination of the lurid creatures dwelling within the brothel I called home. Whorish women, my curse, the bane of my something or other. Feeble mind of mine, it continues to let me down. Not too dissimilar to the bunches of balloons that decorated the cars of the local garage, waiting to be sold to prospective family-men and business men and men and men and men. Sweet men. The balloons, of course! I would sit on the deserted field and from a  distance observe the close of trading and the ceremonial cutting of ******* strings that freed the multicolored harlots of the sky, back into the sky. Only to be destroyed by winds, birds, planes, storms and the pressures of the atmosphere. Weak willed *******, the lot of them.

But you dear brother, of no relation. You were kind hearted and I point to where your charred heart lay.
You held me close and called me Elizabeth. Matriarchal dream of mine. You broke the seal of new technology, purchased from store upon the corner.  Multiple windows on my windows, each one a prospective client. You lucky friend, I choose you.
We were madly in lust. Madly in... lust. I cannot bear to bring the 'L' word from my cowardice lips. Lips that pleasure, lips that weave, oh lips you kissed daily. Masculine frame, strong father figure of which I am vacant. Let me lay with you once more, in my pretty dress and high heels. Let me pretend for a day that I am no man. That I, that I am your lady. Let me, let me, please let me sit with my legs crossed and hair dancing in the cool breeze and breath of yours.
Too many years I herd the pleasure through papyrus walls. Mother wailing and cheering for the lord. Grunting and creaking with the pleasure she felt. I enjoyed it so much. For that reason and many others beside, I chose a life.

Life so frail, life so pure
Stepping slowly
From the step of my back door
Closing behind me
and turning the key
I shall be home to you
As your lady.

Please do not govern for I am impure of mind.
Life's little scar ingrained in my skull.
Each and every maddening creature has led me, the narcissist, to this here concrete hell.
In which I shall say my final words,
and breath my final wheezing breath
For I have killed two men and a perfect woman today
And Long may they rest.
K Balachandran May 2012
I am against finding fault
with the Mongolians,
for feeling incongruously-
partial to pangolins.
Brent Kincaid Sep 2015
I pity anyone visiting us with
A language besides English;
Who tries to understand the words
We like to use with relish.
We seem to say so many words
Just to keep our lips busy.
It occurs to me the so much of it
Has never graced a dictionary.

Upscaling, downsizing
Offloading the whole magilla
The whole nine yards, bottom liine
The big honcho, the whole enchilada
I was completely plussed and then
I had my self a hissy fit
I didn't know I had a flabber,
'Til someone went and gasted it.

Hanging out, kicking back
Into myself and whatever
***** it, man. I am like, wow.
And y'know, yodda yodda yodda.
Some mean kinda fudpucker
Betcher bippees, yabba dabba doo.
Mazoomas and headlights,
Totally hyped megabitch, too.

Talkin' about 'sup bro
Stufflike windas and winders.
Jammin and gittin widdit
And sumpinbout pillas and pillers.
So, I goes and he goes,
And I'm all jazzed and by golly.
It really rocks, rad to the max
Get down to some serious party.

Sixes an sevens, p's and q's
What's your point? Get real!
It's pretty much a ******
So, what's the big deal?
Too much, I mean it's tough,
And stuff, and really far out, man.
Twenty three skiddo old bean.
Just a flash in the pan.
It *****. It blows, It bites, big time
A wicked righteous mindfuck.
Get jiggy with it. Kiss my crank;
Slob my ****, Lord Love-a-duck.
Lawrence Hall Nov 2017
The Super-Golly-Gee-**** Dog Food as Advertised on the Radio

O Alpha and Omega 3 Fish Oil
Now leach into Pup’s liver with great lust
Bring Old Blue’s lycopene to a steamy boil
Resurrect my beagle, O, yes, you must!

O fatty magnesiumed manganese
Seep into Fluffy’s geriatric joints
Pureed from a genuine Portuguese
(Lusitanian flesh never disappoints)

Heart arrhythmia, rashes, and lumba-gee-oh -
Trust your pet’s health to an ad on the radio!
Lady Narnia Jun 2016
I'm surprised we're having a picnic on the east wing!
Our company almost never gives us anything!
Underpaid with no benefits makes this picnic even better
To think I was going to give in my resignation letter

With so many hamburgers, hot dogs, and more,
It's a fast food restaurant galore!
A table packed full with yummies.
Today, a lot of beef will be in tummies.

People reaching for their plates
The caterers come out of their waits
One by one, they serve each voracious goer
For a pay that probably couldn't get any lower

Janice comes, with her broken polish and nails
And a scream a joy echos out like whales
She's so drunk, oh my god haha she's so wired
It's the unpaid overtime or another threat of being fired

Poor thing... we finish our girl talk
and problems on my mind, I begin to walk
Feeling my appetite begin to poke me,
I bite into my hamburger with resounding glee

Nipping the bread, it's fluff presses against my lips
I close my eyes, as my senses go in dips
The precious aroma of divine baked bread
As my tongue and bun are set to wed.

Each bud met with delicious waters of steak
The ketchup creating a dreamy, saucy lake
Scrumptious, delicious
Incredible, nutritious...?

It doesn't matter, I've met my goal
And the taste, goodness it makes my mind roll
Forgetting everything while I finish the rest
Golly, this food is the best
jimmy tee Mar 2014
foo
foo
step right this way
stripes
the curly haired whispers of long ago
dirt on the steppes of Maui
life and death
the boldness of breath
tea sets invented
natures idea of hooking
the falsehood of feelings
since you can sense the release of chemicals
into the gut from the gut
art is an effort
all roads are connected therefore lead nowhere
snowflakes
glaciers
the impossibility of a paper bag
well that’s why you got the people you do
blistered surfaces
invert
divert
subvert
magical marketing
lost time is all its good for
crawl
other beings
the past is as real as the now
the future not so much
look for answers under slimy rocks
headlights
mark the trail with crumbs
holiday pay eligibility
pig latin verse
loose lips sinks fish
headlines of tomorrow list all your deeds
originality pounds it out
a ground game if there ever was one
marginalized in a riotous way
burned
turned
spit shined shoes laced real tight
if you stayed this long you must get it real good
explanations spellchecked edited cast aside
meaning lost found lost and lost again
bury your words
measure the sun as a star
triangulate emotion in order to set free the main ingredient
the Bosporus the smallest gap imaginable
a wayward telephone number listed
a matchbook
adding depth to the photograph by controlling aperture
roulette craps poker slots Chinese checkers
numbers never end
gymnasium antics
mans best friend is a meateater
fall follows autumn in the southern hemisphere
three dimensions are all you need all you require
bomber
deny both the entity and the substance found ahead
synchronize your watch with mine
sand as a tonic baby oil pine
money buys packaged happiness
there was this guy named Shakespeare
opinion calls for differences version 2.0
you find the zoo to lead so very far
swing for the fences
jump rope skip sidewalk
ease
mow the concrete lawn from here to horizon
jump rope skip sidewalk
learn forget then act dumb
exit stage left
what is behind animal eyes big mystery
exponential units forge toward the final group session
king me
did the butler do it with the maid
how often is crying necessary
pound for pound the best boxer in the mid century bout of pneumonia
digital meanings end in analog discussions
legions of admirers blinded
where to turn when the lights are forever out
invest in mystery
disappoint those who will never know you
you know it
there is a dogma in need of a collar out there somewhere
temptation looms
the holy word of snowflakes delve into deep philosophy
but I always got along with everybody
why work
pituitary gland
announcing for the first time on record
prince spaghetti and salad extraordinaire
the alphabet ends in z
puddles form on distant planets that orbit toothless suns
men
loud music still comforts the savage beast
years like a tape measure stills the ragged poor children
never to be found never ever ever
solvent says eat thou peas
silo bag deliver us from the tall neighbor police
sidestep any issue involving toys
mounds of troubles can be climbed
Kansas wind also flows down the plain
think about it the sea is mostly under itself
plow
most things look better from behind
a major felony on your record
knowledge in the form of easy chew tablets
hounded by creditors bobby laid low
actors actresses chumps
results are mixed as the queen leaves daring long behind
punctuation fits into softly lit areas of the mind
stay loose
breakdown the door then apologize some more
I left home for this
mistakes are what we call experience
the smiles on bubblegum cards just as real
twenty dollars invested in nothing
pin air to itself
buy time sock it away watch it grow grow grow
cool is always enough for matty
god that guy could drink ant sanitation member into the ground
margins
leaves are raking themselves these days
so long in the past stood there with sled in hand
photographed by a grandfather clock
black envelopes glued by hand in an everlasting jump off point
poetry bound and gagged for fun and zero profit
movable type static feasts
in the groove piled high with the color that represents lament
fifty thousand big ones aint so big anymore
the river left town
cannon at the gate corded shot ingenious ways to destroy people
support the troops
he say one thing then did another wow does that hurt
memory votes early and often
nobody knows the troubled bean
it all hinges on my word being accepted
china feels so very close
the sea full of carp moistened in salt water ** boy o boy
Vermeer at the loom
the bronze age must have been heavy
time waits around the corner selling amphetamines
queer beings exit the saucer and head right for the local hobby shop
end game
paint as a medium large
pine scented maple trees win the prize
in my book the covers speak for themselves
close up to the camera waterfall
find the picture inside the cavity send help
amid ship is the place amid
of course some things are missing
ghost register to vote
went fishing came home with a tummy ache
spend your last dime see the world as it truly is
between avenue b and c there lies a small wombat
fend off the high climbing stairs that offer busy bees
mind the gaping hole that leads to oblivion ny
fog in my ear
steam punk can you believe it had to be invented
the f drive taketh away
sing a song about the street we used to chug a lug at
view my elbow rock
know thyself from the middle ages on toward the detail
love pander both you know
mom became tonnage displaced and torpedoed
you are very astute now quit it
this meeting is over like so many before it
collapse my finger into red colored dust
round up and whittle down the masthead
toothpick sized brains
its no bother at all fire away with logical pounds
page that squire knight the tree stand hunter in velvet horn
live as the yo yo
beat it now not later now before the sun sets far into the Japanese
planning a child check our bargain bins first then decide
overtime halts the easy chair
tiny
mounds clopping at the level of good mine
piles of good old fashioned nonsense
home grown
sunny side up way up
carry a friend everywhere you travel
knock
catch a rising star and keep it there
an alarming increase
happiness is a warm puppy
many are called but few are winners
put in your time split and repeat
wrinkles seem to be catching on
break the law go to *******
now is the time smack in the middle of touchy feely
mountain of jelly
pound of brown
highway exits in turning lane
polished sayings die in mid form
butterfly of course
bank on it twice
inform the theologian that grace is universal
one unit is enough to bounce the basket ball
larcenies are a regrettable offense for jumble minded
loud is the hammer of life by golly
inside
far away lies the land of nod no wait mod
never saw it coming
mud in your minds eye
clean up before the mess is tabled
throw away all hits
kong king
mondo longo pongo in delicate dancing
bear in mind that bares the soul to influence
set up the new roux
pint sized followers found via radio
fell asleep in wonder fat
knives sharpened better get a move on
loudly express a final punt
line one line two line three
when did farming become cold
newborn
disease jumps as the trampoline handles wind jammers
night can be fun but girls are more down there
love me back
mindful of the garter you can relax next year
backwards as a mean average statistical oops
venting hot gas adds to the thrill
is this thing on
swell
and and and and and and and
call the water department I am ready to fly
listen the goat will never know what hit him
long on flavor short on towels
company insists on a quaint meal of posies
behind a successful man is a chair of some kind
got milk
my friend can be talkative but never mind
rounded surfaces slip into nothingness a modern age affliction
we will escape scot free
badness baldness daily princess
puzzle in mind he left his denial on the riverbank
on the reindeer hoof we ride
specialty
how can it be hey baby that’s what we are here for right
the plays is not the thing
work your **** off then find the instruction manual
beep buzz bop
it appeared right there but is gone now
foo
Matt Shao Jun 2019
M. E. Shao

An Ode to the Letter “A”

A picture says a thousand words
At least that’s what they say
Although they can’t describe a thing
As well as the letter “A”
 
“A” means that there’s others
As if there’s two or three
And if there was just only one
“A” would become “the”
 
An Ode to the Letter “B”

Behold! A letter that can be
Better than numbers one and three
Because it sits quite neighborly
Between it’s buddies A & C
 
Boldly standing faithfully
Barely used the same you see
Bugs will spell it differently
But one less E and then it’s be
 
An Ode to the Letter “C”

Can you guess what letters next
Clocking in at number three?
Careful how you use it now
‘Cause it confuses frequently
 
Certain times it’s overlooked, like
Chief – the “I” before the “E”
Can’t use “I” that same way though when
Coming after “C”
 
An Ode to the Letter “D”

Dare I try letter four
Daunting as it may be?
Duly note this verse might prove as
Drab and dull as me
 
Don’t say there’s other letters of such
Deep complexity
Desire to speak in a past tense?
Dread not! Just add a “D”
 
And Ode to the Letter “E”

Ere I forget I said I’d commit
Ever mindful I shall be, and
Execute my promise, my Oath
Elegantly thanking thee
 
Eyes see so much wisdom
Ears hear so much glee
Every single word of love
Ends, with letter “E”
 
An Ode to the Letter “F”

Finally a letter without a long E
For those are easy to rhyme
Frankly it’s fun to come up with a pun
Fresh from out of the mind
 
Forever I wonder, over and under
From bottom to top, all the time
For a bold new way to come out and say
F this…but with no moral fine
 
An Ode to the Letter “G”

Goodness gracious, golly G!
Gifted writers inspire me
Gernsback, Goddard, de Graffigny
Grouped in glory’s category
 
Guiding words with paper and pen
Grandeur achieved by all of them
God bestowed them minds of gold
Goals to emulate when I’m old
 
An Ode to the Letter “H”

Heavens hopeful, but all should know
Hell awaits for heathens below
Havoc, hatred, halls of stones
Heated seats on hopeless thrones
 
Helping mortals foster love
Hoping for the gates above
Hearts are kind for constant fear
Horror and nightmare might be near
 
An Ode to the Letter “I”

I love the vowels for how they serve
In bridging letters, creating words
Insanity comes, ’cause if not for them
Illegible messes that none comprehend
 
Idle time attempting to read
It’s pointless were it not for these
Irked by consonants, throw in the towel
If you want a word…just buy a vowel
 
An Ode to the Letter “J”

Jack and Jill went up the hill
Jogging straight up and down
Joking and playing, having a thrill
Joy till he broke his crown
 
Jumping in fear, Jill looked around
Jolting across the way
Jeering, she returned and scooped him up
Jill’s stick was shaped like a J
 
An Ode to the Letter “K”

Knobbed in darkness, twisted wood
Knuckled as can be
Kinks and dead spots all around
Knotted is the tree
 
Kindling yes, our God will need, as its
Key for making day
Kind, He brightens nights with knights by simply adding
K
 
An Ode to the Letter “L”

Little, little, did I know
L is oh so great
Like the time I drank that wine and
Lulled a pretty mate
 
Lords and ladies, boys and girls
Like all, must pay the well
Lay respect to that which lets us
Love – the letter “L”
 
An Ode to the Letter “M”

Middle of the alphabet
Molded like a gem
Most will say there’s nothing worth
More than Letter “M”
 
Maybe M hates W
Malice with a frown
Mercilessly mocked by him when
M is upside down
 
An Ode to the Letter “N”

Naughty naughty little N
Never helping me
Nothing useful ever comes from
Negativity
 
No and never, none and nor
N is oh so rude
Neighbors M and O must want to
Nix that attitude
 
An Ode to the Letter “O”
Over, under, bottom, top
Odes to letters never stop
On the day I get to Z
Old and wrinkled, I may be
 
Or young and youthful, hopefully
Only time will tell, you see
Our lives are short, we need to grind
Otherwise we’re wasting time
 
An Ode to the Letter “P”

Paper, pencil, pen and ink, in
Prose I’ve grown to speak and think
Public platforms, message boards
Poetic guide of rhythmic chords
 
Poems are pretty, I think it naught
Pretentious such as some have thought
Pious I shan’t think it so
Poetry shall help me grow
 
An Ode to the Letter “Q”

Quiet! I must concentrate
Q is hard to satiate
Quarrels make me want to quit
Quirks in words which don’t quite fit
 
Quorum comes when all are here
Quickly now, our quest is near
Quantify a love for two
Q is married, to the U
 
An Ode to the Letter “R”

Regal existence, loved from afar
Reality dictates we need Letter R
Rigid and rugged it’s straight and it’s curved
Reading is easy when Rs are preserved

Rallying troops or driving a car?
Really won’t work without Letter R
Reason without one, your point is moot
R runs the game, expect the boot
 
An Ode to the Letter “S”

Supposed vision we are told will
Save the world today
Sorry if I disagree
So many told to stay
 
Spite and harm are currently
Sawing through the way
Someday hope for peace and love
So hate will go away
 
An Ode to the Letter “T”

There never was a letter
That can do as much as me
Think about it really hard and
Thank me when you see
 
The other letters hate me
Though, because of jealousy
They say it’s not fair that I rhyme
That super easily
 
An Ode to the Letter “U”

Usually I’d try her number
Unfortunately my hearts asunder
Used to love her, used to hold
Useless now, attempts are cold
 
Until things change for now I’ll be
Under this cloak of melancholy
Urging progress, longing for more
Unable to close the heart wrenching door
 
An Ode to the Letter “V”

Very strong, vivaciously
Voltage high, tenaciously
Veer this verse, voraciously
Vaulting over prose you see
 
Violence in these words you read
Viking frame of mind have we
Vibrant in philosophy
Verbiage is our currency
 
An Ode to the Letter “W”

Well, here we are
Woe is me!
Winding down, finally
Wrapping up this poetry
 
We’re almost done, from A to Z
Writing alphabetically
Won’t be long, but wait! We’re not free
W was easy….X will not be
 
An Ode to the Letter “X”

X can mark the spot I see
Xanax needed this entry
Xi is Greek, it’s fourteen
Xeroxed words, all randomly
 
Xystus too, as I mentioned Greece
Xebecs sailing open seas
Xerosis I suffer cerebrally
Xenial X was not to me
 
An Ode to the Letter “Y”

You may think these odes of mine
Yawn-inducing, wastes of time
Yet I attest validity
Yes they’re written passionately
 
Yesterday I couldn’t show it
Younger me was not a poet
Yearn for greatness, one day bestow it
Years from now, I hope you know it
 
An Ode to the Letter “Z”

Zealots desired to bless my soul
Zilch is my energy left
Zoned out, these odes have taken their toll
Zoo in my mind, though ’twas deft
 
Zip up this project, my brain can now rest
Zero letters now lie ahead
Zephyrs now soothe me, caressing my chest
Zodiac today – time for bed
Bhill Mar 2020
what the ****, oh golly, oh dear
I’m really not, sarcastic here
the world is crazy and I am a-feard
the man in charge needs to be commandeered
he has no sense, common or other
what should we do, let’s go ask our mother
she’ll probably tell us to stay inside
let’s do what she says, let's have a safe ride
it’s really not hard to stay away from the threat
keep six feet away and don't play roulette....

Brian Hill - 2020 # 84
Well...  It's true!
Peter Hark Jan 2020
So I was taking lil Tyler to school
and I got to meet one of his friends!
Tyler was so excited to introduce me to him,
but that poor little babe!
He was in a wheelchair!

Bless my son's heart for looking past this kid's...
um....
Well you know it takes a special kid to have a crippled friend!
Wait
I mean
Not special! My son is not special
No, wait, I mean he ain't SPECIAL special
You know?

Anyways, so I met his friend and I'm not quite sure what to do here
I say
HELLO I AM TYLER'S MAMA
and this little kid looks me dead in the eyes and told me
"Hello ma'am, there's no need to yell"
I was in awe
He didn't sound handicapped at all!
I mean I didn't know if he would be able to understand me
But he did!

Who would have thought a wheelchaired kid
could speak and think just like any other kid who wasn't gimpy!

I am just so so proud of my son
for looking past this poor victim of
um...
deformities...
Cuz you know it's probably good for the disabled
to have a regular normal friend like my son!

Hopefully my son can make that kid happy
you know since people like that usually have such sad lives.
Golly I am just so proud of my son for taking pity on that kid!
I am such a good mother!
THIS IS NOT SERIOUS. I DO NOT PERSONALLY AGREE WITH SLURS OR OUTDATED LANGUAGE USED IN THIS POEM, IT IS BEING USED TO SHOW HOW RIDICULOUS ABLEISTS SOUND.
Darby Rose Jan 2014
My room’s a disaster, and I am positive it is a reflection of the current state of my life.
But, I mean, what do I know?
My life is nothing short of scawompus.
And by golly, let the wild rumpus begin, I shout- to the heavens- instead of taking the time to clean a few things up. Instead I linger, just oh, so fed up.
What do I know?
I know for certain I am not the only one who would rather relinquish their life story to a stranger at coffee house than to their best pal on occasion. Truthfully, that’s probably a factor in humanity’s perpetually loneliness, makes me question the reality of godliness,
But that’s another talk for another day.
I know, oh boy, I know we’re all just lonely ******,
and darlin’ ain’t nobody's life more glamorous than yours,
just step out of your head for a moment.
Because it truly is gorgeous out here, there is every reason to fear, but also every reason to simply say **** it, and lie back and enjoy the view.
But what do I know?
I know it seems askew, but the beauty lies in the few who learn to appreciate the new.
Oh, what do I know?
Oh yes, I know I am **** crazy, and **** weird. I know this because I am reminded daily by my family, friends, and coworkers, but I am also **** happy for how depressed I am.
But then again, what do I know?
Let’s be honest,
I wear my whole life on my sleeve and still, nobody ******* knows me.
And I think I’m badass. Skanking at ska shows, waking with "oh no"s, what am I doing here?
In a strangers house after a night of fun and honest to god I am still bummed.
For whatever reason, whatever I may conjure up, and I am left here feeling like i’m still floating up,
Up, up I am drifting
I am a drifter
And I still don’t know what it feels like to feel
I am a ****** to life in so many senses
My senses are unfulfilled,
But I am scared senseless of what my future holds.
And what THE HELL do I know?
I am undeniably bewildered,
Nevertheless, aren’t we all?
In that, who really KNOWS anything these days…
Hello, I am at the candle festival and I just had a beautiful gluten free curry but the only problem is it had potatoes oh well I will go back to my diet tomorrow
What is the candle festival about if you can't break your diet
Ok well there was water bombs where I can guess you throw them, oh the kids throw them
What a bit of fun and there was a Japanese version of our national anthem advance Australia fair and there is also judo demonstrations and the nara school all the way from Japan are just about to take to the stage and by golly there are a lot of kids there, I am wondering what songs will the play, something hip I imagine
The first song got the kids dancing and a big yellow and black thank you on the back
Of the back line and the next song is some old kids song done in Japanese and mate these kids are amazing the second song sounded like when your ears hang low waddle to and fro tie them in a knot tie them in a bow and mate if you can't get what that song is you are a bit of a clot and now on the stage there is a lady with a Japanese fan, and she sounds cool and now she is dancing stylishly with a carousel and mind you she looks good, the next performers on the stage are Riley lee and Steve Allen and it will be interesting what music they play for us one played acoustic and the other played the flute and mate it was peaceful as you look toward the lake and trees and the beautiful candles that are in the garden ready to be lit
Riley and Steve gave a really cool performance of acoustic and the flute and coming up next there will be a chef with a very big salmon and I wonder what that will be like, I guess it will be ever so groovy dudes
This chef very carefully cuts the salmon to very small portions
And maybe he might have a bit of sushi ha ha, he is cutting the fish without touching it with his hand mind you he has a bit of a problem doing it but he is amazing  
The chef finished early
So he went back on stage to explain about his knives that he was using for the cutting of the salmon and there is a special basic way to cut the fish/sushi
Whatever you want to call it
I really like how they add the chrysanthemum flower and he is cutting it with so much care as he puts the flower in the middle of the fish and the people are coming over bringing their dinner and it is hard to understand if the smell is coming from a fish and if you remember the Simpsons when they had a poisoness fish if you cut it wrong and he mentioned that fish as he was carefully cutting it and mate, he looks like he really knows his fish  
And that was really amazing and from the aboretum in Canberra they are bringing out a special tree called the bonzai tree and the tree dates back to the year of 1989 and this tree looks great
And as the tree goes off the stage, we are about to see the official candle lighting ceremony which promises to be very cool
Coming out to officially say some words from the ambassador of Japan and Andrew Barr who is the chief minister of the national capital
As they are about to make the speech of the 15th candle festival and they are lighting the candles on the stage and they are about to go to the candle garden to place the lantern
The music started a bit later than last year but we really need some audience participation to get everyone cheering and the first song is my island home which is a rather nice song but we need some audience participation to wake them up a bit but I am not saying that he is a bad singer
I am just thinking bring on the exciting singers and after one performance the singing was unsatisfactory and I went for a walk in the candle garden which had some pretty candles with trees and buildings, yeah and I will show you the photos I got from the candle garden in the pictures yeah it was a good night out apart from the rain making a few appearances but overall I give it a 7 out of 10
They needed to have more audience participation toward the end to encourage people to stay and not go home
JAM May 2015
Hello, allow me to introduce myself.
My name is Jocund, The Gardener.
Living lucid, a fellow mind traveler.

That’s kind of like a chill Childe wanderer
Of the flowing forest floor,
Feathered cotton or greening words
On the wind unravel-er;
Gone’a’wandering in untraveled soils,
A seed settler.

Tragedy left my face sneer metered,
Mouth stretched sideways,
Toothy as a dumb grinning jester.

Yearning to make one stupid gesture,
So you’ll see I’m not too interested in being above or lesser.
Just on a mission,
Learning how to be both student and teacher:

Drawing abyssal blueprints,
Joining the disillusioned,
Describing a dynamic curriculum
And coding oaths like Odin’s to bind Cosmic-Woden’s
--Mr. Omnipotent to us rodents—undying reticulum.


Re-programmed to generate runic music
Nomenclature shaped in the underlying resonating
That is every particle operating in unison.

So I'm riding the chronicled-Euclidean space-time continuum
Of balance known to us as equilibrium,
And can you feel me breathing?

It’s the giving and taking and pushing and pulling of gravity propagating,
Bending light under and rending sight of what will be and what has been.

Oh well,
[Where], (when), {how} I am is what matters most to me.

“Jinkies!”
“What is it Velma?!”
“I think that’s Relativity.”

So, speaking relatively
I’d rather deduce from what’s relevant to me,
Lather rinse and reduce the divine to dust in the winds of time,
And maybe see the truth behind {who}, [what], (why) I’m-

[{assburgian]}: high functioning and genius,
Mumbling, s-st-stutterin', tic tic-ing and tremblin’.
it's ****-chilling and tedious.

But wait! There’s more.

{(Bipolar}): slightly manic, and comically dramatic.
Severely depressed and in a silent panic.
Practically sleepless, it’s fairly fantastic.
My memory I mean,
If all my senses witness a scene
The info is sealed within me perfectly,
Perceptually and verbally,
Non-mutational, stability.

In the short term, unfortunately,
My focus is overloaded with scenery
Of bullies, abusers, and over-users.
It’s misery listening to scratched records on repeat,
Immune to wrecking.
For that I thank my ([ADHD)]: predominately inattentive
Wtih dsylixea, definitive alcoholism, drug addiction, and the list goes on.
So yeah, I’m on the spectrum, I’m a functional positron.

“That guy’s *******, He can’t even act right.
He’s emotionless, a mindless robot.
There’s no empathy in that golem.
That ugly alien’ll never be like you or me,
He’s clueless, aloof and downright foolish.
So let’s just forget that freak, he kinda scares us.”

Oh yeah?
Well keep that **** in your ******,
Order the facts and double check’em.

“We're not so different you, me, and them.
We just built a bent border 'round the word disorder.
Sure, that’s the preference, to make no inference.
Ignorance is bliss, right?”

For my defense?
Well golly-gee thanks, that’s all lovely and great.
But now the neurologically typical person
Thinks they can fix me, without knowing my burdens
Like, “you’s gots a d’zeez cuz’a factseens”

This "cray" **** gets me irate.
Diagnoseez wrapped in fear-mongering, seen with hate,
And convinced to wait for a miracle.
Well too bad so sad,
The difference is anatomical.
So treating me means training me
To be “normal, deviations nominal.”

(Am I ******’a dog, what the ****?!
Wait, back it up and mix that bit up.)
“What the ****, am I a ******’ dog?!
Oh, if they knew the truth they’d think I’m a ******* demigod.”
(Ha right, more like a log full buried eternally in'a boggle.)

My parents tried and tried for my birth,
They almost considered me impossible.
I was nearly inconceivable.
Then the multi-verse cursed,
And that message was receivable,
I heard it was a freakin’ miracle.
Not that mom cared, she was irresponsible.
Wanted to be a free mirth queen.

Aww, she just needed security.
Even after my birth on Friday 3/13/92 into a noose,
Loosely scorned and hardly lyrical.
They had to remove me surgically from the womb and
Now I've grown oddly into a super human body.

I’m physically atypical with an extra lumbar vertebra.
Some think me mythical, my hearts cage is even, part of a
Hard skeleton wearin’ *** appeal and a
Strong fresh sheath of flesh that’s quick to heal.
Ask me to speak, out comes a voice so deep you’d think the sky fell.

I’m mentally inexplicable,
Thinking in infinite Voices simultaneously painting imagery indefinitely.  
It has me lagging in a neuronal-conundrum.
I’m containing a brain wound up and
So over-wired it's redundant.

Making my head so heavy the ground is over-tired,
Barely overcoming addiction to dilating mundane details.
And a bit slow to obtain'em,
Those growing verbal-perceptual rains of information.
It's why I'm highly aware of the visual-spatial patterned puzzle pieces of existence.

So my mind is orbiting off in the distance,
Oblivious to non-verbal relation,
Just spaced-out communication.
I'm nearly incompatible
With most people in this global nation.
Everyone's got recipes for lemonade,
And I've got durian, that's **** ironical.
I told you, the difference is anatomical.
Can't be changed, so forget being normal tragically!

“That’s great and all,
But you still can’t communicate,
Associate,
Or surmount your human viewpoint
And recreate.
So what’s the point, you’ll never amount
And you shouldn't be allowed to procreate,
Just **** yourself.”

Shut the **** up, mate!
No one is beyond help,
And I'm in good health.
So who says I need your help.

I’m a catch-it-all trainer,
Long distance sprinter,
Heavy weight lifter,
Martial arts practitioner,
And Muay Thai fighter
Of the metaphysical plane or
Flyin’ my x-wing, taking out tie fighters.
Muckin’ up misinformed storm troopers,
Shovin’ **** back down their word poopers.

Yeah, I’ve tried playin’ The Game
That society designed.
But that sick joke
Was painfully lame.
And the punchline,
All but broke me.


I died philosophically.
Spent three days regenerating.
Re-writing my subconscious poetry
Like The Doct-uh,
The Boo-duh,
Or Mist-uh
Believe-in-me.

Pulverizing words into compost,
Composing metaphor to re-code seeds
Set to regrow self-trees from the ground up.
Splitting myself up into three categories,
(Mind), [body], and {me} all clowned up.

It is a truly significant allegory,
Greening my being with jocundity.
Creating profundity for gardening,
Generalizing and broadening the concept
And applying it metaphorically.

In the attempt
To join fantasy
With reality
And become truly
One with “we”;
Livin' and loven'in
Disparity and hilarity
Of you,
Me,
And every fellow
There is to see.

So, “hello
i am the gardener and
i am jocund and
…|[{(i am)}]|…
quite pleased
to meet
we.”
barnoahMike Jan 2011
Shouldering the Load by Himself seemed like toil that He could Easily accomplish.    However,  The Assignment required at least a Minimum load of that which was EQUAL to One's Body weight! !   " But Child's-Play" He thought,  "I can carry my Own Quite Easily !    So,__He signed All the required documents ,  Applied his Fingerprints in the Appropriate  Places,  Affixed His Seal and took the Pledge.   He then,   went over to Stand in the Waiting line for His turn to come ~~        While waiting in Line,  it gave Him the Perfect opportunity to Totally review the Upcoming Event !  With Heated Anticipation,  WAS how He would LATER describe it !   Just Imagine,  To carry the Assigned Load "All by Himself".   Should He first Squat  with back ***** to get a Better Grip?   Should He First put one  knee on the ground in front of Him, OR,  His foot only, so as to better Stable the Load?   He was Really looking forward  to this New Adventure,  "W O W ",  Shouldering the Load ALL by Himself !   This is NEATER than he could ever begin to Imagine.   "GEE"  He had already moved Up twenty spaces,   He MUST be getting Close!    Everyone was so Courteous , Absolutely NO Jostling was occurring in the Line.     This was,he thought " YEAH,  it really was Very Neat!"   Maybe,  Just Maybe in Attempting his First lift,  His feet should be Directly Under His Shoulders !    Made Sense !~~    The Assignment was to  "Shoulder A Load ".    Even if He backed under it,  His feet could be Directly beneath His Shoulders, That too should Work !   The  ULTIMATE  Goal could be Achieved,    BY GOSH,  He could do it  ! !   What an Opportunity ,  He continued to Ponder,  as He Moved up another Twenty Spaces.       ALL He had to do, was to Shoulder His Own weight !    ALL the Paper work had been put into Action,  All the the Necessary Preambles,  Done and finished.    ALL He had to do WAS,   Take On the Task.  GEE=****  how exciting,,,He was NOW Next in Line!    " I,  AM NEXT ,  Good golly Miss Molly,  " I AM NEXT" !    As He saw the Task Before Him,   A Tugging from His Heart went out for those Behind Him,    As the tear formed in His Eye ,   Should  He-Stay"  and help His Friends  "SHOULDER A LOAD " .......
copyright @2011  barnoahMike       Mike ham
Caleb Reeves May 2014
Prologue: People have their own sneezes and that is surely fine, but you need these top-notch instructions for a faultless sneeze. I will instruct you on the fine art of how to make everyone in the room feel badly for not saying "Bless you!" You will find the results of your new sneeze to be utterly awesome. People will enjoy hearing you sneeze and wonder how you perfected such a basic  human function. You will love your "after" sneeze and wonder how you could ever live with your "before" sneeze. Be an "after" and stay an "after!"

STEP 1: Start by breathing heavily. Gasp for air, inhale deeply. Don't make your peers think you are merely snorfling. Don't make them think you're some kind of schmuck. You want to sneeze like royalty. Take in that breath and inhale proudly.

STEP 2: Rise a little, maybe even stand up, to open up the lungs.

STEP 3: Let it loose, make it loud and sneeze with gusto. Make your sneeze noticeable to otherwise oblivious teachers who only notice wrong answers and very obvious text messaging during class time. Make your sneeze a TRUE distraction.

STEP 4 : Before anyone says a thing, bless yourself as if no one is there, as if you were in your room all alone int he dark of the shadows where the sound of the bed creaking scares you half to death. Where the thing under your bed says means things to you while you try to drift off to sleep--where loneliness and death meet and...sorry. I got carried away. To recap step four, talk to yourself. Refer to suggestions below.

STEP 5: If no one speaks, begin to cry. Moan and wail. Wonder aloud why no one takes the moment to wish you well in your time of need.

IN CONCLUSION: If none of this works to gain you attention, the ******* down and call me Sally. It's time to choose new classmates. By golly, they must be the most putrid thing any baby spit up if they don't' stop for a second and wish you a very bless-ed life from here on out.

SUGGESTIONS BELOW:
"Achoo! Excuse me, bless me."
"Hachoooo! Gesundheit."
"Achew! Bless my soul."

Warning: Sneezes have been known to spread disease. Sneeze responsibly!
This is the very first piece I was fortunate to have published back in 2008, it was my Junior year in High School. My step mom, Anna Reeves, helped me with some of the editing and word choice.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2018
The fire knows nothing but burning,
we know breathing that way, naturally done for
our own sake.
We old still know sake and grant mean true immaterial things.
Sake and granted we take to mean

my good, your good, good sake grant me take me con

mentis sans carne

by golly.

Dada-esque wire spoke far writing ease
e everything e-literate e-mail

---
the boinin' in d'boozum, dat be da ting, da ting con sum in all ya'lifes.
be knowin' dat, be knowin' a-dam lie.
Jah know y'know, don' be sayin' no y'don'

Be happy. Jah know haps be hap'nin' allatime. *** sum, take wha's granted,
take all fo' free.

You got nothin' t'boin, nothin' to oin, be a bird brain seein' stars fo'

no. birds be sleepin' when stars be seen so birds consider nothin', sidereally.

Hmmm. Quit?
Walk away, say, I got nought to say I ought t' say.
No way.

Temporary tempt-test-u-us sitchee-ations,
suffer it so. It don' hurt t'say no f'now so

How'd that that shiny critter know my game? How'd it know,

I think
thisaway and it is gone, forever. (which has begun, btw)

-----

The biosphere is regaining consciousness, Capitan.
Shall we continue burning?


What's the bullocks count?
How did those Dada ideas survive this long? Or are they gone, such non-sane suggestions, fountains of living waters flushed to oblivion?
A Burnell Jun 2012
My hand doesn’t seem to want to hold a pencil;
My brain is having trouble focusing.
What is this?
Multiple choice?
Worksheets?
Essays and Assignments?
Woah, wait a second
I can’t handle this algebra equation
And forget about a ‘great thesis’!
Give me a second to comprehend!
Can we please skip all the introductory class rules?
I wont spit gum in your class
Or write on all the desks.
I already know where to turn my paper in, and yes,
I will sharpen my pencil whenever I feel like it.
I’m bored already, I want to get moving
I’m ready to learn.
Golly gee, it sure is hot in here!
Mark Jan 2020
They think, good golly gosh, I feel the way you move
Live a bit, no fear, and gyrate those hips real smooth
We all know your hip is deep inside and still alive
So show us now, how those legs dance to the groove
‘Cos we know you, know you, know you into groove
And, like duh, UR, UR, You are so dope
We, want you, want you, want you to feel alive
So now we gather, then cheer and feel your jive, watching you groove

So they say
Groove for you
Groove for you
Groove for you Now Now Now
I've always knew that you’ve done this groove years before

We say
Live for you
Live for you
Live for you Yo Yo Yo
And when you're alive, you’ll always feel everything real smooth

I think, good golly gosh, I feel I’m waking up
Take a breath, no fear, and show everyone, whassup
Like mother said, I've been grooving inside far too long
I’ll show you now, how these legs dance to the groove
‘Cos we know you, know you, know you into groove
And, Like duh, UR, UR, You are so dope
We, want you, want you, want you to feel alive        
So now we gather, then cheer and feel your jive, watching you groove

So they say
Groove for you
Groove for you
Groove for you Now Now Now
I've always thought that you’ve done this groove years before

We say
Live for you
Live for you
Live for you Yo Yo Yo
And when you're alive, you’ll never feel anything so smooth

So they say
Groove for you
Groove for you
Groove for you Now Now Now
I've always thought that you’ve done this groove years before
We say
Live for you
Live for you
Live for you Yo Yo Yo
I've been going right on, page by page,
since we last kissed, two long dolls in a cage,
two hunger-mongers throwing a myth in and out,
double-crossing out lives with doubt,
leaving us separate now, fogy with rage.

But then I've told my readers what I think
and scrubbed out the remainder with my shrink,
have placed my bones in a jar as if possessed,
have pasted a black wing over my left breast,
have washed the white out of the moon at my sink,

have eaten The Cross, have digested its lore,
indeed, have loved that eggless man once more,
have placed my own head in the kettle because
in the end death won't settle for my hypochondrias,
because this errand we're on goes to one store.

That shopkeeper may put up barricades,
and he may advertise cognac and razor blades,
he may let you dally at Nice or the Tuileries,
he may let the state of our bowels have ascendancy,
he may let such as we flaunt our escapades,

swallow down our portion of whisky and dex,
salvage the day with some soup or some ***,
juggle our teabags as we inch down the hall,
let the blood out of our fires with phenobarbital,
lick the headlines for Starkweathers and Specks,

let us be folk of the literary set,
let us deceive with words the critics regret,
let us dog down the streets for each invitation,
typing out our lives like a Singer sewing sublimation,
letting our delicate bottoms settle and yet

they were spanked alive by some doctor of folly,
given a horn or a dish to get by with, by golly,
exploding with blood in this errand called life,
dumb with snow and elbows, rubber man, a mother wife,
tongues to waggle out of the words, mistletoe and holly,

tables to place our stones on, decades of disguises,
wntil the shopkeeper plants his boot in our eyes,
and unties our bone and is finished with the case,
and turns to the next customer, forgetting our face
or how we knelt at the yellow bulb with sighs
like moth wings for a short while in a small place.
If I could write my thoughts
You may not quite understand
For the words we are stapled with
Seem ridiculously bland

Music flows like colours to beat
Hypnotising my soul, sparking my senses
Controlling my body I'll jump to my feet
Unimportance of visuals like seeing through lenses

If emotionally moved why not be 'fantabulous'
Eyes closed I see clearer and all is so peachy
Bisto relates to Sunday but life is better gravy
Grey Monday's depress but not 'Grey..You get me?

Just separate your instincts of colours and such
Words are just letters You'll see in a bit
Brains installed with viral fake mush
Some never stray from the path of life's Pit

So blasphemy like '*******, **** and ****
Bad letters because swearing is ...wrong?
The four letter 'C' word the worst though admit
Cos **** is just letters made worse for too long

Sue is my name all over the world
Yet Mum can be Mom, Dad, Pa, Pere
If taught **** for Mum wisdom are not pearls
Red is not hot blue is not cold transparent unclear

So simply my mind see's what's gone so wrong
To un -train what's been taught like losing a limb
People are 'Crazy' to not follow and conform!
Don't get the page yet? read on its no sin

Fantabulously individually Humans
My DNA matches no others so why  march to the tip TOP beat
How beautiful we are 'ALL' Races of humans, Us
The recent power crazed gave racism a ******

****, Racism, diets, Religion
War, Rich, Poor, just made up words
Humans empathetic risers to imagine
No hate, selfishness, Malice in Humans that's Absurd!

Do we find Racial abuse amongst Dogs, Cats and such
So many species but a ***** is a ***** regardless of colour
Rabbits in the wild don't live in a hutch
Straying the point lets try to mull over

From born colour coded, numbered and named
Associated colours, Pink Girls, Blue Boys
Lemon and white if scans are waylaid
Colours are just preferences or visual noise

Taught to be the best you can be
Strive to the top, the higher, the best
Already are wedging the You and the Me
Hang on..Oh look.. I come from the 'West'

How hard to be taught to embrace our uniqueness
Respect, Love and cherish the short time we're here
Selflessly love, change this bare rotten bleakness
Humanity release this dark You enslave

No rich or poor just balanced and happy
Heinz not for me still love store brand
Caviare Hallooga Ballooga, Whatever, Really?
If not jisting my drift now... You're not of this land!?...


All I'm saying is we are all unique so live life to the full, embrace love and happiness, help others where you can, be selfless, respect costs nothing as does a smile, no need for fad dieting, embrace your unique self, let's strive to make Humans be the best we can be but embrace the journey together, life is not a competition or a race, beauty can not be visualised or bought, true beauty 'can' be the ugly ducling surrounded by selfish nasty swans.  Feel the love in all Humans globally.  The one's who lead us at the tippedy top have been hypnotised by some othre in-humane greedy, selfish sub species, who I shall name the darkness and unknown fear we only feel, because remember to visualise is irrelevant to our existence , it's through our feelings, fears and thoughts they attack first, causing panic amongst the trustworthy of our so called Governments.  If they all wanted the best for us then by al means pull together as ONE Government, but to diminish the value of money is just a way of controlling us, keeping the rich rich and richer and making the poor the lowest, ,maybe now homeless **** in society we all feel uncomfortable around?  If all houses cost the same, all wages paid the same rate and no unnecessary taxes to park a vehicle, drive the vehicle, toll costs when in the same country and no tax on wages...What they spending that **** on? We already pay tax on the area we live, yes roadworks, police, fire crews, New Homes even, street improvements have to be funded by tax to pay wages... fair enough.  No taxing us on our hard worked, underpaid jobs that we lose blood sweat and tears over and lets face it 3/4 of that goes back into the government with tv licence, overpriced food, tobacco, extortionate fuel companies conning you out ya money with standing charges and charging you more kw for the £ on the ever gracious £5-8 emergency they put on pre payment machines.  Then If your lucky enough to have worked and lived an average life you can buy your own house which you pay of untill your pension years.... god forbid you need residential care if u lose your mind or you can kiss your financial future for your kids cos that care don't come under the good old NHS.... and is soooooo over priced and understaffed by mostly aliens of society that the government take the house and money to pay for their care???? ******* rediculous.  And of course when U die you have to pay a % of the value of that house to the government.....for?? Yea what the **** for? My house? Go **** yourself!...The free bus pass don't cut it, the discount priced fish and chips DON'T cut it!!

You know the thing that grates me the most? TV Advertisements, e.g Washing powder ads.... 10 years ago it removed 'all' stains and made whites whiter than white... now 10 years on and Fantabulously new and improved with colour protection and stain, bomb, bullet proof...Yes you have guessed it, makes whites 'even' whiter! ha.. white is white it don't get whiter.....all scams for money....stick a trusted celebrity in the ad....and you could sell chocolate teapots to the masses...

My Motto..... Eat well, live life, embrace our imperfections cos perfection is unreachable, unachievable and installed into us to get more money, more power, more **** knows?  Don't be ruled by the soldiers and the puppets of society, believe in what you like and respect that others may not always agree with you but we are entitled to our opinion, not everyone is going to agree, that's what makes us different, never seen a war starting over country A likes coffee Country B likes Tea....lets go to war to battle it out....Make war against the law... would solve asylum seekers, ad that god dam racism word, bring back golly Wogs and baa baa black sheep...ridiculous...my childhood was when thatcher was in reign.... oh how the man 'o' species let 1 woman come into power and claim she ****** it..... anyway straying again...Wake up People Freedom is lost,  lets not let them take our souls too!!
Classy J Feb 2019
Trying to figure out why a ***** tried to stunt on me.
While my homie fronts on me.
Triggered lie’s blasting out like bullets into your chest, golly!
Vigor dying whilst family crying that left me locked up now in a little celly.
Why did I pour out my heart to that ***** named shelly?
**** got me melancholy, casting out poxy curses.
My proxy is dropping down which got me feeling worthless.
Growing up in projects where one survives by snatching purses and killing snitches.
While society bides their time by tying nooses.
Rigged games yet we are told to give no excuses.
So, a minority got no choice but to role with the punches.
But with darker skin colour most don’t or won’t notice the bruises.
Vile nobility just loves hunting gooses.
Stark contrast idly confides and resides Inside institutionalized nuances.
Some people can be such nuisances.
Got me feeling like tony roaming through the different cosmoses.
Lonely sinking feeling, with my hope which was once flickering but is now slowly fleeting.
Reciprocal tensions pokes through my barriers like an unwelcomed greeting.
Typical tropes of under-achieving maybe it’s time I let God start intervening?
However, I’m doubtful on whether spirituality is real or nothing more than Kris Kringle.
Jingling jester choirs who always be harping on my people.
Which makes me ponder whether or not God’s supposed love is fickle.
Or if supposed believer’s have actually ever read the bible?
Religious pharisee’s not seeing the irony of praying to their falsified idols.
With their heads so far up their own ***. That they don’t even realize that they’ve actually been worshipping the devil.
Marigolds Fever Sep 2018
Characters of folly
With their agony and jolly
One who makes water
In the gutter
As bystanders shudder
One who wears a cape
Is he planning his escape
While the gentleman with the black beret
Morning walk to his frothy latte
People with sign in hand
What’s the message
Where they stand
Souls everywhere
Just the same
A powerful friendship
Could be acclaimed
Generous one
Did you find
One that lets you put your cares behind
One that talks to trees
Even in the breeze
That brings those pines to their knees
One who taunts honest and kind
While he croons those left behind
Those who seek out the good
Kindred spirits misunderstood
One who sees the light at the junction
With his guitar that’s multifunction
One who wrote look for the sunny side
Knowing the silver lining as she cried
Characters of folly
Will leave you chanting my golly
Sierra Scanlan Feb 2015
Today was my cousin Joe's birthday, but I think of him more as an uncle considering he's closer to my dad's age than mine, that's besides the point of this, though. I haven't seen him or talked to him in 5 to 6 years due to  his mental conditions. The past 10 years or so have consisted of a lot of ups and downs for him. I can't remember when exactly it was, but it was fairly recent, that he was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and Schizophrenia. When I had found this out, I was probably a pre teen and I didn't fully understand what this meant, but I do remember feeling a punch to my chest. Joe was my best friend when I was child and he was a vital part how growing up went for me. I always looked forward to holidays and family gatherings because I knew he'd be there and we'd get to spend time together and share laughs. When he was diagnosed, he was no longer around... He needed to get help and as sad as that made me, I knew it was for the best. Today was his birthday, today I called him meaning it'd be the first time we had talked in almost six years. I could tell he wasn't the same man he was when I was a child, but that didn't make a difference, I was just happy to hear his voice. He hadn't realized I had already graduated high school or that I was on my first year of college or that my sister had a baby. At certain points in the conversation, he had called me by my sister's name, but I knew I shouldn't take it personally, I knew he knew that it was me he was speaking to. He had said my voice was calm and that I sounded just like my father, I never thought that was something I would be happy to hear. When the circumstances aren't what they once were, you come to appreciate what you get. You appreciate the little things because the big things are no longer something you can experience. How can you possibly make up the time  loss in six years through a sixteen minute phone call? You can't, but I sure as hell did try. I never realized how much I had changed in those years until he had picked up the phone. I realized I wasn't the same little girl and I didn't have the same dreams I had that time in my life. He was different, too. Not the golly man he once was. He hadn't lost the light that kept him going though and I think that's really important to consider. Mental illnesses are always going to be mental illnesses, but what is important is you don't let them win. You don't realize how significant a person's mental health is to their well being until you see the mental health of someone you love spiraling down at a fast speed, potentially taking them away at any moment. You're not your mental illnesses, you'll always be my best friend. "I love you, kid." "I love you, too." That's what was said before I clicked the end button on my iPhone.
victor tripp Sep 2013
Little RICHARD the proclaimed self architect of rock and roll sang out high pitched about GOOD GOLLY MISS MOLLY you sure like to ball when your rocking and rolling can't hear your mama call OTIS REDDING sang about SITTING ON THE DOCK OF THE BAY while RICHIE VALENS played his guitar singing LA BAMBA and FATS DOMINO found his thrill on BLUEBERRY HILL than MARVIN GAYE crooned through the mike that  I HEARD IT THROUGH THE GRAPEVINE and IF I COULD BUILD MY WHOLE WORD AROUND YOU PAT BOONE related to pioneer DANIEL BOONEspent  his day WRITING LOVE LETTERS IN THE SAND THE  COASTERS sang about that lazy CHARLIE BROWN  JOHNNY RAY sang about THE LITTLE WHITE CLOUD THAT CRIED  as GLADYS KNIGHT AND THE PIPS about taking THAT MIDNIGHT TRAIN  TO GEORGIA and IF I WERE YOUR WOMAN meanwhile THE FIFTH DIMENSION  sang about ONE LESS BELL TO ANSWER  one less egg to fry one less man to pick up after I should be happy but all I do is cry CLAUDE MCPHATTER in true rock and roll style  sang WHITE CHRISTMAS and RICKY NELSON sang POOR LITTLE FOOL AND TRAVELING MAN when I heard about THE BEATLES I  thought they were coming over the water to eat up our crops but they had  A YELLOW SUBMARINE sweet and wholesome CONNIE FRANCIS asked WHERE THE BOYS ARE some CHAINGANG and CUPID draw back your bow and let your arrow go straight to my lovers heart for me ALLAN FREED an unknown disc jockey tagged the new wild music ROCK AND ROLL DEAN MARTIN sang AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD and somewhere  along my musicial journey  I heard the great piano mover and confess  I watched all of his films  MARIO LANZA formed and shaped my love for opera with BE MY LOVE for no one else can fill this yearning ,I went out and brought an album of the wonderful singer actor activist HARRY BELAFONTE and freely admit that during that time I was a teenager with limited funds but saved up the money just so that I could hear  BELAFONTE sing SCARLETT RIBBONS  and the infectious DAY O sunlight come and me want to go home come mr  tally man tally me bananas and than QUINCY JONES known as Q  wrote the theme for SANFORD AND SON and produced THE FRESH PRINCE OF BELAIR starring WILL SMITH ,WE ARE  THE WORLD AND OFF THE BLOCK ISAAC HAYES black tall barechested  draped in gold chains won an OSCAR for singing and composing SHAFT which was before he acted in TRUCK TURNER  IKE also sang I STAND  ACCUSED of loving you to much and I hope that you don't mind PAUL ROBSON in deep bass  sang OLD MAN RIVER in his career he was a lawyer actor scholar outstanding athlete singer  finally THE BIG BOPPER sang CHANTILLY LACE and a pretty face and a pony tale hanging down he died to soon in a plane crash along with RICHIE VALENS and BUDDY HOLLY who sang THAT WILL BE THE DAY
David Nelson Dec 2013
Hamburger Hell

Beefsteak Charlie says to Porky the Pig
I can see the party lights
someone's throwin' a bash and it sure looks big
down at the slaughter house tonight
say lets get together and hit the buffet
you might as well stuff yourself
they'll only throw it away

Old Colonel Sanders says to Elsie the Cow
golly baby you're the one
two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce,
pickel, cheese, onions on a sesame seed bun
say we just got time for a roll in the hay
might as well stuff yourself
they're here to take you away

I know where you're going, I can tell
don't go looking for me
down in Hamburger Hell

don't misunderstand me I wish you well
don't go looking for me
down in Hamburger Hell

lyrics by Todd Rundgren

Gomer LePoet...
the Runt rocks out in this foot stomper
ash Dec 2020
Eventually,
We all get older.
We wake up and find ourselves standing on the precipice of adult.
We brace our bodies for the shift that’s sure to come,
The jump, the free fall,
The swan dive into the gatekept world of grown ups,
Where we’ve been barred out for long enough.
Countless hours spent building up dreamscapes
of getting out
And growing up
And getting rich
Or famous
Or beautiful.
Or brilliant.
We go reckless and proud and headfirst into ice cream for dinner
And socks that exist only in pairs
And questionable bedtimes
And bad decisions
And for the briefest and sweetest of moments we think,
By golly, I’ve made it.

Eventually,
We all get older.
The evidence of our ice cream dinners shows up on our hips
and thighs,
Our bodies betray our most private moments,
Shouting out to any passerby,
“I’ve had six pints of ben and jerry’s just this week!
I haven’t used my gym membership in well over a year
and at this point, i’m afraid to go in to cancel it!”
And, seriously, what is up with the sock thing?
Does my dryer consume socks?
Like, if my dryer doesn’t maintain a steady diet of socks,
Will it starve?
Will it explode?
Will it go on strike and recruit my washer to join in the fighting of the good fight?
Who do I call when my laundry appliances spin cycle their way into civil unrest?
A sacrificial sock here and there is better than the alternative,
I suppose,
Because I sure as **** can’t afford a new appliance,
let alone two,
And also, at what point do i start to feel like I can comfortably afford a new appliance?
Is it when I stop throwing money at a gym membership that i haven’t used in like, twelve-plus months,
or does that come some other time?
And why is it that anymore, by 9:30 every night,
My body starts to feel its own weight
all at once,
It’s as if I couldn’t remain upright if my life depended on it.
Is that because, for the last fifteen months, I have poured my hard-earned dollars into a gym membership that I have used
not one time in,
coincidentally,
the last fifteen months?
Like, all jokes aside,
why would we,
As an ever-evolving, self-aware, species
Continue to dish out nearly twenty U.S. dollars a month
Fifteen separate times
For a gym membership that we are obviously
Never going to use again?
And just like that,
It is so
Clear.
You have no ******* idea what you are doing.

Eventually,
We all get older.
We come to accept that more often than not,
Days will be bookended by more questions than answers.
If we’re lucky,
We might find ourselves learning to lean into the gray spaces,
the precariousness of it all,
Instead of trying to stain it peachy.
To find a quiet corner in the static,
To let the strangeness that be wrap itself around you,
Is a feeling that I suspect only an elite few ever get really good at.
To those of us who still try,
To those of you who are still trying,
Take pride in the practice.
No one gets good at being comfortable in the gray on their first try.
For some, it takes a lifetime.
For others, lifetimes.
But from what i’ve been told,
It’s well worth the waiting for.

Eventually,
We all get older.
Yes, even the mamaws and the willow trees
and the baby brothers
the first grade teachers, too,
and the cicada who met your acquaintance that one summer afternoon all those years ago.
The dads, the best dogs, the single moms,
Yup, they all get older, too, eventually.
As we all do.
When they go,
(we all go, you know, eventually)
we remember them for their windchime giggles
or you find them in the way you still brush your hair,
Just how they taught you.
People tend to leave breadcrumbs of themselves all over the place.
If you pay enough attention,
You can find them **** near anywhere.
You have your mother’s eyes, for example,
Or so you’ve been told,
A hereditary heirloom from her to you.
Even if you never could quite see the resemblance.
but lately, you’ve noticed,
There is a familiar sort of something there,
In your own lookalike set,
You can just barely, almost, make it out
When you tie your hair back and tilt your head just so.
It comes most clearly in the mirror after the kind of day
you don’t want to talk about.
When being has broken you down,
There’s a skepticism,
or a longing maybe.
You’ve seen this somewhere before, have you not?
A daydream perhaps?
A long-forgotten dandelion wish
or a memory dislodged?
You’re still working out the logistics, the linguistics of it,
But you saw this, once upon a time,
Took note of it,
Came to know it well, you think,
Certainly it must have existed in your mother’s eyes,
must’ve because,
It’s a familiar sort of something.
You first remember it way back when,
Yes, that’s it,
Something from way back
when all you wanted to know was what it meant to be her,
To be big,
To be grown up.
Peculiar, though, isn’t it?
it seems such a juvenile sort of something now,
Looking at it from way up here,
Seeing it in your own reflection for the first time,
Does it not?
Big, grown.
An adolescent sort of uncertainty, possibly,
Or -- no, that’s not quite it,
Childlike wonder, it must be,
In her eyes and yours.
Proof, I suppose,
That eventually,
we all get older.
And maybe it’s presumptuous to assume,
But one can’t help but wonder,
Aren’t we all just grown up kids?
Aren’t we all making it up as we go
and filling in the gaps with the cadence of a child,
Your mother must’ve, too, i’d guess,
with that sort of something in her eyes.
Aren’t we all stumbling, scrambling, doing our best to scrape by,
Praying to the dryer gods that our **** doesn’t break,
And if it does,
We cross our fingers for the tragic death of an imaginary, estranged, great-uncle who just so happens to have acquired a hefty sum of money throughout his life and, well,
i’ll be ******,
If he didn’t make you his beneficiary! Stranger things have happened here, have they not?
Aren’t we all just trying to understand?
ourselves?
and people?
and god and grief and bliss and sickness and marriage and death, hope and money, how the defrost works, and what it is about karma that makes her such a ***** and what it means to be a good person, anyways, and taxes and laundry and which drugs are must-trys and which are don’t-evers and when drinking is considered to be a “problem” and how people can push THAT out of THERE and the art of loving and the arguably more advanced art of being loved and forgiveness and success and desire and *** and stick shifts and the beauty of a deep breath?
Aren’t we all lost out here?
Aren’t we all scared out of our minds?
A bunch of grown up kids, really.
A ragtag group of misfits, try-hards, have-beens, and never-weres.

Eventually,
We all get older
Except those of us who don’t, I suppose.
I’d venture that we’re all still trying to figure out how to understand that, too.
We get older, just the same, as one does,
our hips get wider and our dryers get nicer, newer.
Teenage girls seem to get ever-prettier, the rich get richer,
cruelty gets more cunning and the planet gets sicker.
We get far more than we bargained for or
Far less than we deserve,
We get busy living and dying in tangent,
love gets stronger, scarier,
and we keep the faith that some day,
Somehow, love will get simpler, sweeter,
and time, as it does, gets on with itself,
despite it all.
In spite of it all.
And, as we do, we get older.
And still,
we have no ******* clue what we are doing.
If we’re being really honest here,
We understand not one ******* thing about whatever this is,
And I’m not fully convinced that we even want to know.

So, we let ourselves be small in big bodies.
We eat ice cream for dinner to remind our little selves that there is joy in the forbidden, the unpredictable, and the delicious.
We approach socks with reckless abandon,
pair a tall christmas
With a no-show pineapple-speckled grey,
We take on every decision with the impulsivity of a tiny human who,
Roughly and at best,
Has six years of life experience under their belt,
Skipped their afternoon nap,
and has developed an apparent affinity for shotty judgement calls,
We’ll apologize for it later.
And it’s true of most of us,
I’d think,
That we hope for a day somewhere down the line,
when we’re a little older,
A little wiser,
A little bit in a position in which we can comfortably afford a new dryer should we need to,
We wait for the day when we’ll wake up, as normal a morning as any,
And it’ll hit us:
By golly, i’ve made it.

The truth, i think, is that so few ever actually do.
Make it, I mean,
Whatever that is for you.
We hang on to our hope and convince ourselves we’re satisfied,
Or that we’re better off now than when we started.
Maybe we are.
But if you ask me?
I don’t think it matters.
I’ve spent a lot of time looking at my mom’s eyes in my own reflection.
I’ve asked all the questions,
Looked hard for a clue or a compass to point me to
Where i’m supposed to be going,
What it all means,
Who to trust
What to expect out of a person,
What people expect out of me,
Where to go to find lost souls,
Where I fit into the grand scheme,
And like, what even is this whole “grand scheme” thing anyways?
All this to say,
I don’t think she knows any better than I do anyhow.
Or than her mom before her.
Grown up kids, you know?
Little people in big bodies.
Every last one of us.
Growing up
And getting older
and getting the **** out of dodge
before we have a chance to catch up with ourselves.
I think it's the best way, truth be told.
But who’s to say, really?
I, for one,
Have no ******* idea what i am doing,
And if I was the gambling kind,
I’d bet my bottom dollar that you don’t have a ******* clue,
either.
We’re all just figuring it out, aren’t we?
Grown up kids, that’s all.
Little people in big bodies,
Just making it up as we go.



a.m.
Emily Pidduck Dec 2013
Rocks and trees
are no match for bees
they are too similar
there is no controversy
neither is worthy of the other
                  why...?

the world needs spray
from the crashing waves
to pound against the rocks
and warn off the flocks
of birds battling survival
               are the birds always so reckless?

everything holds danger
to bring out the braver-
for the souls who are lost
too afraid of the cost
but the gravity
of depravity
is unbreakable
                but you've said the chains are heavy, not tight...?

then, unbearable
but that's why there is two
so while one holds the weight
the other regenerates
but neither has the strength to move along
and this goes on
                 but there must be a loop in every cycle?

that's the struggle
but why rise up
when the sky is black
and just that
             can't they see the stars?

aye, but those lights
are part of the night
that never reaches daybreak
in the stillness of late
                       then later, they will resurface?

                                                    ­I stare long and hard at her.
                                                    So simple and innocent
                                                    and persistent
                                                    
 ­                                            She's reached the age of twelve
                                             and the universe is her limit
                                             and she dives in with suggestions
                                             to questions
                                             that I have faced
                                             and crushed
                                             while my reasoning
                                             has imprisoned me

Alright, your turn
I can't answer that last one
I'm still sunk under
these waters

Let's see
if you can bring clarity

                                                        ­   Normally, my pessimistic side
                                                           would shoot down positivity
                                                      ­     and I don't believe
                                                         ­  that she could know
                                                           the words to break my cold

Well, my words aren't as big
but I think simplicity
is the path towards
enlightening

                                           ­     ~giggles/chuckles~
                                                ~our eyes meet~
                                                 Reeeaaallllly?

Yeess, but you've got it wrong
right from the kickoff
so I'll have to start
with rocks

Rocks are the bottom
so trees will grow on
and bees feel safe
'cause the trees are strong
and this composite
of opposite
makes it worth
having both

and the spray of the waves
leaves intervals
so the gulls
can find hide-holes
in the cliffs
while awaiting the fish
see? - survival
...of the fishest


                                                      A­s I wait out her cackle-fest  
                                                      I am uncomfortable
                                                   ­   the simplistic
                                                      ­seems realistic
                                                      w­hich means I was only pessimistic...

And certainly the danger
makes people braver
but it can't be so unbreakable
if you think hard
there can't be such a high cost -
if people are braver
'cause then the danger
just isn't as dangerous

and if there are two people in chains
don't they stand side by side?
i'm sure if you do the math
upholding each other
makes each one strong
and the time they withstand
is twice as long

and if struggling
seems hopeless
when you can't see the sun
can't you feel grateful
that night
hides the demons

eyes can see
only angels fly
with wings that shine
in a darkened sky

                                                                ­                  My brain is scattered
                                                       ­                           as my thoughts are rattled
                                                         ­                         because right now
                                                                ­                  my shadows seem so friendly

It's not hard to resurface
if you know this
and I promise
your scars will heal
because time is the boss
and love is the cost -
and the easiest to pay
'cause each day
it regenerates
until it's all okay


                                                          ­                          I smile at her ending
                                                          ­                          maybe simple, but what I wanted
                                                          ­                          and as she traces the scars on my wrists
                                                          ­                          i'm thinking golly goodness
                                                        ­                            I am a vast pit of empty knowledge
                                                       ­                             I wonder how long she's listened to me
                                                              ­                      and how long she's known I's wrong
                                                           ­                         and I ponder what I know from me

Okay, that seems believable
Ah, crap, you can say it
or, I suppose I should...
altogether you were, completely, entirely, 100% thoroughly and perfectly right
and I
quite...
wasn't

sigh
                                       ­              ~lays head in my hands~


sigh
I'm lost

All I know
is rocks and trees
and trees and rocks
and bees
                                          ~ she giggles~    ~grabs my hand~
There's one more thing
*It's me
I tried to combine poetry and story while keeping both very obviously, so I hope you like it :)
Also, this is between an older brother and his little sister, I pictured him around 16.
Michael John Aug 2018
i


zowie doodles
maisie may
mali the bad
lily lu lu
and tommy tune..

ii

i recall thursday
in cold blowy bushes
hopeless
and late victorian

chairs..

a rather shoddy future
which got worse
helpless
victorian morals

and worse

and what then
a succession of
error
a word a curse!
woe to us!

silver platters..

but upon
my hairy shoulder
youth laughed
but a aways
harsh

wastrels!

and you think
and you think
timeless ways
and suddenly
i was 30..

jesus..

an elephant in
glass
unemployable ant
boats and stoats
and factory
malaise..

wish..

work in progress..
the seconds digress
like love and stars
not even a war

go fish!

a dance with a
great magical
door
called wishes..

and then 40..!

son,beware the
cat lady
beware
the graceful

smiles..and
whipped 20
by
or be

since..

and strange things
like comets
come and go
by

which

if character been
fate
is
typical..

of me..

as forecast by
teachers and towns
but unknown
music

grin down..

and by golly
close shaves
around corners
stuff and poetry..

some round..

lithe plain
and of course
why
not made a million

yet

but all
is
still
a sweet card..

a great winding
returning
empty while
of some

shiny circle..

— The End —