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Samantha Jones Sep 2012
deep soft warmth encased in meek palms
fingers smooth
and formulated truths
each groove parts seas of future loves

following the mold laid out before me
thoughts and mind flow
out of perky fingertips
through the barrier of time
a pen is gripped as my head tilts slightly

a journey takes place
to watch you hold my own
gratuitously

and now, as time allows
your grip becomes tighter
the swell of a ravaged soul
protruding, a once favorable innocence
now drowning
lines
cracks

i feel your heartbeat
Brycical Dec 2011
I am called a scrooge
as I dislike this greedy
grimy "holiday" of gorging
gratuitously on cookies dipped in mashed potatoes.
People grabbing & gouging
for electronic pop culture distractions
to celebrate the "birth" of a baby
from a lady who claimed to be a ******.
Everyone expects something
to be given, pressure permeates
those souls who wait 'till last minutes eve
as laborers looking for reprieves of this
audacious onslaught of wild eyed drooling
consumers
while I shutter at home watching TV's screaming
Why wait 'till the "holidays"
when you could have gotten that anytime?

Kids with detailed lists of wants make parents
feel like **** if the money's not there--
traveling to visit relatives the family cares little about
while everyone sends fake happy cards espousing
happy scenes of fireside matching sweaters next to a
tree cut from outside brought in--
a metaphor for the biannual church families
dressed up to sing hymns and drink wine.
So you can call me a scrooge,
or even a grinch,
I don't really give a ****,
cause I've been giving gifts
consistently loving thy fellow man.
when in the world’s (supposedly) leading democracy
a new president starts his office with

     making life more expensive for average home owners
     signing orders threatening the health of millions
     restricting the publications of researchers
     denying global warming
     encouraging coal and oil companies
     forbidding federal employees to talk to the media
     going on fantasy trips about “alternative facts"
          to justify his ridiculous lies
     blaming the media when asking questions and checking facts
     barring leading media companies from press conferences
     waffling about his Russian connections
     refusing to release his tax returns
     ordering to build walls to keep out all those aliens,
          like the old Chinese did, to little avail
     issuing poorly formulated presidential orders
          causing confusion and harm and even deaths
     banning even green card holders from entering the country
     filling his cabinet with all the alligators from the swamps
          he promised to clean during his campaign
          people who know how to avoid paying taxes and beating the     system
          but have no clue how to govern now that they ARE the system
          and think they can run the USA with its 350 million citizens
          as Trump&Cronies;, USA, Inc.,
          like their private family businesses, for profit
fraternizing with kings and monarchs & wannabe sultans in the near east
     'democratic dictators' in the far southeast
      and wannabe czars in russia
but hesitating to confirm ties to old allies
     in Europe, NATO, and the Far East
suggesting that having undeclared secret meetings
     is quite OK for his campaign team members
     his son and son-in-law & cetera
nominating well-known union busters
    into the Federal Office of Labor
    and a billionairess widely unaware
    of the existence of non-private schools
    as Secretary of Eduction
banning grandparents. grandchildren
     as well as aunts and uncles
     of gratuitously selected countries
     from joining their families in the USA
 believing that the US president & his cronies
     stand above the law 

[ctd. fron line 2...] THEN
it is high time to seriously ask
what concept
    if any
of democracy he has in mind
In view of ongoing developments, this poem is a work in progress and will be updated whenever significant "presidential orders" or some such become public.
Sam Hawkins Jun 2017
With lift-off intention I jumped to fly.
I was something like root grounded tree.

Taking flight was so absolutely hard,
though my guru counseled me.

With acquired and studied implements
I tried to cut each holding.

My intellect in truth was rather dull,
though Spirit bolding.

In hieroglyphic's manual page 222
I intuited hints, incantations true.

Here for scheming:
Fly-O  Fly-O  Fly Fly-O!

I recited that fortissimo for a week
in lucid dreaming.

Then my weighed body, my un-weighed soul
together I suppose remembered it simply,
that God had intimated flight for me
(gratuitously gave).

In classical mind's eye I spied
Icarus sploshing in a wave.

Entered in-- Ab-or-ig-inal Self.
Whoa, I said, hello!
shocked at that showing.

I know... I know... I know...
with ease -- be natural, just be still.

Unequivocally state
(this way make your start)
I need help.

so I believed it
I spoke it

and then I sailed and sailed away
with freedom, my heart.
Ann Beaver Mar 2013
Giant, gruff, grinning
it grabs gratuitously
at my body.
Grumpily grappling
onto my arm
and throwing.
I grasp at green air,
I find only the graceless
graininess of gravity.
It, grunting,
grips my insides
and greases the ground
with my grimy gremlins,
my greatest, grueling torment.
******.
dan hinton May 2012
Look at that ***
Just one more look
Before you walk away.
I thank God
That we have women
With blue faded skin tight jeans
When I’ve been breaking my back
Working like a dog
When blood sweat and tears
And violence are so gratuitous
With people sinning gratuitously
Don’t we deserve to sin a little?
To indulge in a little flesh?
When there’s drugs and violence
On the streets, people dying everyday
And not even making the news
We could do with a few more
Blue faded skin-tight jean cowgirls here today
A few more cowboys showing how the West was won
A few more days of reckoning
And a lot more hell-to-pay.
People have little respect for others today
There’s nothing to threaten them, and nothing to fear.
It’s good to see the bad guys finally on the run
We could do with a few more blue-faded skin-tight jean cowgirls
Here today.
Marshal Gebbie Nov 2009
Cry not for what you do not have
Bleed less for what is given,
For the cruelty in your fellow man
Will paint how greed is driven.
The silent fields of Sobibor
And Dachau's dull grey light,
Pay testament to past largess
In what is wrong and right.
Conception's teeming contest
Has dispensed your primal luck,
Your greater expectations
Have run, gratuitously, amok.
For what you are is what you get
This mirror's image barks,
And delusional ostentatiousness
Reinforces those remarks.
Seek not the golden rainbow
Nor pursue the greener field,
For disaffected affectations
Promise you a simple yield.
Learn to love the skin you live in
Irrespective of the warts,
Live within your  limitations
Despite disparaging retorts.
Count the blessings of the moment
Take each small step at a time,
Come to terms with who you are
And you will find it all...sublime!.



Marshalg
@theBach
14 November 2009
PK Wakefield Dec 2010
hard soft i'm large and groaning a fit of plastered excellence in my ambrosia fountain of giggling fornication this city is grandly exalting and flustering mightily incense of femmes du *** who art graciously ******* with a their boisterous choir of laughing *** or the men groping seriously their frail fair trackmarked beauty and they finger their air and lush and spit gratuitously their eyes upon their *******

                                   and they like to laugh with their haughty whorish
breath            a longing barely chained loosed slowly in splattering
                 abscesses of lust                
      ;         asinine men go and plead sourly your heads in thighs sweating
anorexic ***. your Are
         is
                                               just
cosmic
                   lice
When people say they're tired of a person, often a friend—
Do they mean, exhausted with the idea of submission to their actions
Responding to their preferences
Falling prey to all their ways
Or hearing them drone loquaciously
Putting down disagree-ers gratuitously
Speaking of themselves, about very little else
Until all hope and faith in them has deteriorated beyond all mercy?
I am yet to confirm
What is true beyond all else
Gone through the Rubicon,
Universal to all nations
But why must I tolerate a monk
That devoutly praises himself to the depths
Beyond all fierce comprehension,
His devotion remains a quandary
Default African,
Yes I am,
And a disgrace for that matter,
Yet African with Katekism,  
I am supposed to be,
Come rain, sunshine or high waters,
I have betrayed you Africa,
I have 'back-stabbed' you in the face,
And spit rotten phlegm in the wound,
Giant mother,
With this badge of slavery I now proudly wear,
**** me.  

Never have I washed my father, Or mother,
Never have I washed my grandfather or grandmother,
Neither of these have I ever dared looking after,
Yet today,
I assume total custodianship and curator-ship,
I take care of some grandfather and grandmother,
Somebody's father,
Somebody's mother,
Somebody's grandfather,
Somebody's grandmother.  

Only yesterday I was told,
Your father and mother passed away last year,
And so did your brothers and sisters,
And they were all buried like dogs,
Their burials were the talk of town,
How could you let that happen,
How could you,
And I am these enermies' comfortable door mate.  

My grandfathers were colonised,
Because of our rich land,
And now I have been extensively colonised,
Because of their pound,
Because of wanting to be a Westerner – overseas,
Away from you,
Continent of respect and dignity,
Continent of dance and song,
A continent pregnant with untold tales.  

My sick mind has been colonised,
Graduating me into a nefarious modern commercial slave,
Just but an echo of an old tune,
A worse slave than my ancestor,
The Kunta Kintes,
I am a cheap voluntary slave,
Who has been gratuitously deserted by his values,
The African values.  

I stand accused before myself,
I am a cumbrous culpable default African,
An African who has lost his ebullient Africanness,
A charlatan ******* African on a detour,
A dismantled, shameless self destroyed pimple,
A nauseating counterfeit second hand African,
An extraneous stain on Africa's underwear,
I am of as much value to Africa,
As is an over- used ****** to a  filthy growth point *******,
Regrettably, that is the African I have become.  

How I wish I washed my father and mother,
How I wish I washed my grandparents,
How I wish I took care of them,
The wish is killing me badly,
I may as I have  run away from you Africa,
But never from Africanness,
Litres of your blood flows in body pipes,
I am because you are,
I am a default African.
Dallas Phoenix Sep 2016
I'm sick of bringing welcoming baskets to my brain-dead neighbors;
They reek of reoccurring favors and fading candle labor;
I mean...
It's to a point I fell asleep by the wishing well;
And woke up counting sheep frolicking piggies playing kiss and tell;
Debunking trumpets of cachet telekinesis;
I'm a hidden sinning villain with chewable junk as his personal Jesus;
Evade gratuitously from all kinds of communication;
Never wanted the attention, but I caught it's contamination;
And my face melted;
But kept a defunct smile just in case;
I need to worm through the dross and cut myself into the chase;
I'm a motley of misinterpreted mayhem;
A clothing shop for a wandering vagrant's cloudy stray phlegm;
Trying to comfort the uncomforted;
My life is just a Death Row inmate's last words with unwanted conjunctions;
But somehow through misery
I pride myself imageless and infinite;
Reeling in the years to blow that last smoke before the finish;
“Query”
from a word miner non-trumpeting
Beatle browed quarry man.

One emailing digital commoner bemoans assiduous,
zealously yearning xing worthy values undergirding
the storied renown quintessential peaceable operation
nations marvel lately kindling justice,
institutionalizing hope, gentility, freedom, equality.

Dummkopf Donald Count Drake
Hula iz destroying cradle,
where forefathers/mothers begot
America. He shows no demonstrable diplomacy
DURST donning duplicitous damning dingbat drive.

THUS...SPAKE
ZARATHUSTRA GAVE ME THE GREEN LIGHT

I call out President Trump blitzing, donning,
and flagrantly hoisting his arrested development
proof positive he lacks the acuity,
diplomacy, and generosity to invite kosher
or Goyim mandates.

As an anonymously, devilishly,
grouchy voluntary member
(as well a deplorable basket case)
of the one man literary duh vice squad keeping
a mostly straight and true reputation for Hilary Clinton
(versus his claim of her baseless crookedness,

she evinces qualities immediately evident
asper an old gnarled hickory stick), I will
stick tommy figurative guns in an
attempt to staunch the figurative bloodletting heaped
upon admirable Democratic constituents.

Concomitant with this near impossible mission
will be my unbiased opinion, that our FAKE
commander in chief aspires to abrogate,
denominate, and generate demonstrable gimcrackery,

invidious kleptocracy, and incorporate
questionable statecraft.
Analogous to an old chestnut tree apothegm
(well rooted to create self serving,
vassal hating (viz vacillating),
retreating, and re: tweeting

from conscionable, fashionable,
and inimitable laudable official,
regal unequivocal x all did (re: exalted)
gratuitously justifiable management,

this citizen banker does hint intend zealous altercation,
but bestir commonwealth, dutifully engineering
fairness, given hover into jaundiced keeper
LivingSocial lee, man hooverring
opprobrious presidential qualities!

Pointblank obnoxious
quintessential recklessness, subpar,
tacitly ubiquitous voracious
wickedness, xing yawping zapping,
and brokering capitalistic
demagoguery constitute
just tip of the metaphorical iceberg.

His blatant, downright
**** the **** the torpedoes
unleashed viciousness woebegone
lake luster personal gain
to shore up claque king coterie
of family, friends and wu tang
clan, wracked worst world wide

White House den of thieves, which wake
formerly somnambulant populace
to the utter void of requisite skill
unfairly acquired via host
of apprentice television show.

The terrestrial terrain teams now
teems with thuggery, skullduggery,
and raggedy quality people opposing necessary,
manifold linkedin kneads jettisoning important
human goods fleecing essential democracy,

compromising basis authors
of Declaration of Independence, and
framers of Constitution rang the
bell of life, liberty and pursuit of happiness.

The zero sum game trampling, traipsing traducing
basic birthrights botched, bumbled, and blithely
desecrated, via tattle tale telling,
tee totaling, trumpeting tyro
leaves tracks of depravity, gallimaufry.
Thus, (in my humble viewpoint), this mister Donald

(meister usurper  power monger meanwhile iz
***** kneal son nilly, higgledy piggledy, and
wantonly indiscriminately sans,
helter skelter lapsing into  
figurative seat of his back *** while
steam rolling, and letting swing
the wrecking ball like a Golem

howling, jabbering, snapchatting on the loose.
Trademark bully tactics trumpet
his abominable, execrable,
and irascible back *** steam roller
tactics to divert attention,

whence he plopped his paws into as
many profitable, questionable,
and reprehensible theatrics to offset
the mounting evidence of his nepotism
oozing pew tin utterances bring

cataclysm Cat toss trophy at mice elf
and doorstep of average American, who seem to
cower, fawn, and grant high jacking
identity guard, which crass
flagrant indiscretion inflict opposition
to progressive quests.
PK Wakefield Dec 2010
asoftquietafore;
                                 B OO   M!
grunting swirl. the speakers speak intangible friction
who's so slightly an empirical fever
nursing gratuitously the male flavors encumbering
the ego flecked freckles *** lisping
    elegantly cambered waists                shrines of molten ecstasy
but my lady niggles sporadic splinters in my sheath
and i
             splay the courageous night
                                                               and penetrate her plaintive giggle
andrideayellowbuckingmetal
to her supreme station
                                        and palm her credibly
with every effect of my huddled fibers

                where she is gently wet      
a winsome hollow
                                  in where
   is

                           springhotlycaked     light boisterously exploding
and a pink breaking every other colour
   i slave mightily to it's hairless stubble and i stumble
rightly dumb
                            at her close cut whisper
slanting ardently a moist bolt of night
                     aggressively passive
                                                               and patient
she cups my puddle
                       and
                    with
                      lips
                   purely dirt
                 she scrapes me   perfect
WS Warner Sep 2011
Against the saturated
Horizon of dawn,
Loitering in the dark timbre
Of emerging consciousness -
Dissipating somnolence
And preemptive despair,
Tacitly adumbrate the
Yawning abyss.
Chastened by the cunning and
Lubricious nihilism,
Igniting fermented provocations,
Silent subterfuge; death,
By mirth - the inane;
Lament of the mundane.

Fallow paradigms, accretions of
The last gasp -
Evaporating empty liturgies
Of suspicion;
Charity and equanimity -
Lost in confinement,
Triumphant avarice bearing
Descendants
Of intransigence;
Wielding imperious
Schemes of orthodoxy.

Pollard fragments of
Silken tapestry,
Miasma draped depression
Abridging;
Conversely,
Permuted flurries of anxiety
Dislodge
The vestiges of meaning
That abide
In brazen equivocation.

Tributaries of dogma reach
Their confluence,
Watershed moment,  
Numinous effusion
Streams naked epiphany,
The precarious vision -
A gesture of providence,
Certainty and contingency;
Gratuitously derivative, life
Equals choice.

Verdant branches of intention;
And opportunity the vine,
Live forward -
The pen, my voice,
Piquant conduit pouring,
Exuberant wine.

Footprints found in givenness
Underline,
Penumbrae of my soul;
Mirrored silhouettes,
Thoughts and words engender;
And in verse adorn
Fecund soil, Line after line,
The cosmos altered,
Continuum of permanence -
Artist’s art articulating
Essence of my imagination,
I proliferate, I design
Phrases unique,
Participation mystique.

Words creating world,
The apparatus of infinity
Heidegger, ontologically precise,
Language -
The house of Being,
Ineffable, Promethean
Literary devise -
Envisioning possibility,
And abundance to allow,
I occur
Inhabit
Manifest
Future phenomena
Experienced as now.

©2008 & ©2011 W.S. Warner
ConnectHook Apr 2018
Apr 28
Hi all !

Having a great time here in post-modern poetry.
We’ve been on the island since Sylvia Plath croaked in ’63.
It’s been a bit smoggy, incoherent  and gratuitously cryptic, but the prison-guards are super-nice and they let us write Haiku once in a while. There’s this MFA creative-writing place just up the road from the gulag, it’s really charming. They publish a chapbook that 4 people on the island read. They also host workshops, like How to Find Your Authentic Voice and Pushing Language Beyond the Boundaries. Last night we saw some non-identity-politics-driven verse in the nearby wilderness reserve. It had beautiful plumage and made totally weird sounds. (Hey Dylan, you’re remembering to feed my muse, right? Don’t let her out after 5 since she might stay out all night. She does NOT like the free-verse abstract work. Feed her the structured message-oriented stuff to the right of the editorial literary-elite. Thanks ☺ ) Anyway, we’re trapped on this island so if you find someway to get us off, do your best.
PLEEZ tell the editorial prison-guards that we are working on our English Lit MA degrees.
P.S: send the Maya Angelou and Adrienne Rich books soon !!!!!
                                                       Love,
                                                     ­     Rita Dove’s Bookshelf
PROMPT:   draft a prose poem
in the form/style of a postcard
PK Wakefield Nov 2010
she '
           s a bigflavor
stuffed with agile bones
and gracious stocky elated heat. winsome flush density: that to(o
which i'm merely malleable metal
some gold, palmed freshly
in the grove of supple magic
a boisterous thigh and i,m love

                        I,m

massive.

i
  ' m witless charming music i
                                              m '
clumsy lighting gnashing slow
at lewd digestible ****** of your swift
fiber shedding miracle or you
                                                     my quavering note
      of pure violence
                                         stabbing rightly my paunchy ego
    and bleding
          i steal into your absolute cherry and marvel
viciously the timber of your soul
which burns and freezes gratuitously like the sun and earth
who are lovers like we
effortless
     and
                                                    )ETERNAl
Fish The Pig Oct 2014
you're so **** gorgeous
and I'm so **** not
you're the envy of the nature
which you gratuitously stomp on.
ugly girls have ugly hearts
and my ugly heart
doesn't want you around
I don't need this competition.
I don't need to feel this bad.
You're drop dead gorgeous
but I wish you'd just drop dead.

— The End —