Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sally A Bayan Oct 2018
One afternoon, 'neath the shed,
mr. groundhog waited...
nothing in sight,  not a cat, nor a leapfrog
just the fading sound of walking clogs
"oohhh, she's gone!  time to burrow
.....my path is still short and narrow."
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
mr. groundhog started digging.....up to the rotting log
of the wide, cut-up oak tree, upon which, a bull frog
landed...then, leapt to a hidden garden bog.
fine rains started to wet the soil...at last, mr. groundhog,
emerged from his hole on the grassy center
he popped his head out.....suddenly, great fear
enfolded him, he felt a rushing wind...whatever, whoever,
could be watching....then, an odd scent filled the air,
it persisted...that stinging smell...of pepper
lucky woodchuck! the scent dispersed in the ether
its tiny granules got soaked in rainwater.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
mr. groundhog sighed..."i'll leave it to the weather,
i'm kinda tired...........october, is almost over."

Sally
Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 24, 2018
Not at all fiction....groundhogs have started digging,
ruining my sister's green backyard...ground pepper
is one of many deterrents....and it's kinda cruel....
The date of the celebration
(the second day of February) coincides
with medieval feast of Candlemas,
and its pre-Christian predecessor,
Imbolc, a day also rich in folklore.

An old Scottish prophecy foretells
sunny weather on Candlemas
means a long winter.

The tradition is recounted in this poem:
As the light grows longer
The cold grows stronger
If Candlemas be fair and bright
Winter will have another flight
If Candlemas be cloud and snow
Winter will be gone and not come again
A farmer should on Candlemas day
Have half his corn and half his hay
On Candlemas day if thorns hang a drop
You can be sure of a good pea crop.

Punxsutawney Phil is the focal point
of oldest and largest annual
Groundhog Day celebration,
held in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania,
every year since 1886.

Members of Phil’s “Inner Circle”
claim he is now 137 years old,
(rumor circulates this one groundhog lived
to make weather prognostications
since 1886, sustained by drinks
of "groundhog punch"
or "elixir of life" administered
at annual Groundhog
Picnic in the fall),
hence thanks to said magical
life-extending serum
they feed him each year—
and his predictions
one hundred percent accurate.

Coincides with astronomy's
first cross-quarter day,
marking the midpoint between
winter solstice and
spring (vernal) equinox,
which will occur at 5:24 PM on
in Northern Hemisphere
Eastern Standard Time
Monday, March 20, 2023

Small consolation old man winter
spans fewest days
of all four seasons,
especially when

A powerful nor'easter
will develop in western Atlantic
beginning late Friday,
(February third two thousand
and twenty three)
bringing heavy snow,
strong winds and
coastal flooding to parts
of the East Coast,
but there remains
a larger than usual amount
of uncertainty in forecast
for this storm.

Yours truly remembers
when spry Jack (****) Frost
(just yea high -
both arms stretched to sky)
came early, left late and bossed
zealous vernal equinox
rattling barenaked lady branches
obviously inapropos
to budding friendship.

Now (courtesy global warming/ climate change)
mother nature experiences feeling strange
within valleys and atop many mountain range,
wherein goods traded away on stock exchange.

Fortunate concerning yours truly
versus daring to brave
inclement treacherous weather
getting stranded in the process
(possibly becoming gratefully dead)
risking life and limb venturing forth

amidst near whiteout conditions
creating debacle perilous and grave
shoveling snow lest he get buried
he can remain holed up
(in tandem with the missus)
snug as a bug in his mancave.

While nestled inside warm abode for awhile
(at least until temperature upwards doth dial
safely ensconced against elements (of style),
I stopped at metaphoric woods edge
trekking until... for no rhyme nor reason
the poetic metered equivalent,
viz another mile
then stopped for coffee break

burst of energy gave me cause to smile
fording imponderable stream of consciousness
impossible (airy) mission to dodge regarding
aforesaid daunting task to craft worthwhile
poetic endeavor to entertain anonymous readers
gleaning how one bard (with his shaky spear)
evokes fiction being snowbound
as if cast adrift within Siberian exile.

Straightaway I continue writing askew
aware how literary trademark modality
characteristic of one hapless wordsmith
unwittingly indelibly embedded
analous to mine Caucasian
versus swarthy melanin hue

man automatically confers eligibility granting
innumerable known mighty opportunities
(privileged skin color - how unfair)
bigoted prejudices shade those
either hashtagged as black,
naturally copper toned gentile and/or Jew.
Emaysee Feb 2015
Who can tell when you first open yours eyes what the day holds for you.
Open your eyes brush your teeth plan your day, is your day going to be a day in the life like Harold Crick the guy from Stranger than Fiction or Phil Conners the weather guy from Groundhog Day or perhaps a little of both.
I used to find ground hog day funny now I’m not so sure.
Life is bad enough sometimes without it repeating itself until we get it right and resolve the issues that make us a person other people talk about in less than complimentary tones behind our back.
However Harold Crick, (google it if you don’t know this guy) perhaps got it right accepting his fate eventually with grace as he felt his ending was poetic and just; if only we could all be so lucky to know our fate in advance and accept that all our lives end and we need to accept it.
As with Harold, by accepting the inevitable does that give us a chance for our ending to take another path not of our or anyone else’s choosing but simply a random series of events that makes things turn out the way they turn out and it is as simple as that.
Some may say life is not like the movies or soap operas. But where do you think the writers get there ideas from. If you look at comedy writers, some of the universally funny comedians such as Billy Connelly or Jerry Seinfeld take their humour from real life.
The writers of Groundhog Day must have at some stage thought what if you couldn’t move on to the next day until you got it right and then wrote the script. As Bill Murray’s character said in Groundhog Day, “I was in the ****** Islands once. I met a girl. We ate lobster, drank piña coladas. At sunset, we made love like sea otters. That was a pretty good day. Why couldn't I get that day over, and over, and over... Well Bill, life’s like that, we don’t get to choose, and that’s not funny.
IZ J Oct 2021
Mary’s Mother is from Georgia, her Father from Pennsylvania.
A steelers flag hangs on Mary’s front porch, and every Sunday night in the fall means eating chicken wings while adorned in black and gold.

Mary’s Father has an office.
Inside of it lay a few rusting guitars, but the walls of the room are what truly catch your eye.
The paint itself, a dull muted gray is immaterial when compared to the dozens of plaques that enhance it.
Each frame carries a different piece of Groundhog’s Day memorabilia, many house pictures of Punxsutawney Phil, one is a certificate declaring Mary’s Father an “official Groundhog ambassador”, another an autographed photo from a Groundhog handler.

Mary’s Father claims that Groundhog’s day is America’s second greatest holiday.

Mary’s parents were married at Gobbler's ****.
Punxsutawney Phil attended the wedding.
Mary and her little sister stayed home from school every Groundhog’s day in elementary school, and in middle school they attended but came to school in matching Groundhog hats.

Mary’s kitchen counter has a small black speaker.
Each Sunday morning, Mary’s Father blasts the Polka Party Radio Show hours into the afternoon.
The whole family knows all of the polka songs by heart.
Each Sunday morning they came together to listen to the “Waltz of The Angels”, a Polka special dedicated to various passed loved ones.
Even the turntable in Mary’s dining room only plays Pennsylvania Polka vinyls.

Mary’s incredibly familiar with Hershey Park.
She and her sister have brought home various souvenirs from Pennsylvania’s notorious “Chocolate Town”.

Mary’s family knows Gettysburg like the back of their hand.

I’ve known Mary for over a decade.
I never knew her mother was from Georgia.
“The Southerner’s Handbook” sits in Mary’s living room, the only true mark of Mary’s Mother’s life before she surrendered her maiden name.

I think it is a beautiful thing to give up your culture for somebody else.
I think it is a beautiful thing to sing Pennsylvania Dutch folk music with your Husband on late weekend nights because you know it makes your children happy.
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
12 Monkeys
17 Girls
127 Hours
2 Days in New York 2012
2 Days in Paris 2010
2001 A Space Odyssey
360
A Beautiful Mind
A Bridge Too Far
A Few Good Men
A Single Man
A Perfect Getaway
A Serbian Film
A Very Long Engagement
A.I.
Absolute Power
Adaptation
Airborne
Air Force One
Airplane 1
Airplane 2
Albert Nobbs
Alex Cross
Alpha Dog
American Beauty
American Gangster
Amorres Perros
Amour
Anchorman
Andy Warhol's Bad 1977
Andy Warhol's ******* 1964
Andy Warhol's Eat 1964
Animal Kingdom
Annie Hall
Anti-Christ
Apocalypse Now Redux
Apollo 13
Arachnophobia
Apt Pupil
Armageddon
Babel
Backdraft
Bad Company
Bad Education
Badlands 1973
Barton Fink
Basquiat
Before Night Falls
Being Flynn
Beneath Hill 60
Beyond the Black Rainbow
Billy Madison
Biutiful - Spanish
Blade 1
Blade 2
Blade 3
Blade Runner Final Cut
Blades of Glory
Blood Work
Blue Valentine
Breach
Broken Arrow
Born on the Fourth of July
Boyz in the Hood
Bullet
Bulworth
Brothers
Caddyshack 1 & 2
Career Opportunities
Carlos The Jackal The Movie
Carne by Gaspar Noe - French
Cashback
CB4
Charlie Wilson's War
Chelsea Girls 1966
Cherry
Chinatown
Ciao Manhattan ft. Edie Sedgewick 1972
Cinema Paradiso
City of God
Clear and Present Danger
Closely Watched Trains - Czech
Contact
Corpse Bride
Courage Under Fire
Crazy Stupid Love
Dark Shadows
Dave 1993
Daybreakers
Days of Heaven
Dazed and Confused
Dead Presidents
Defiance
Desperately Seeking Susan
Despicable Me
Detachment
Die Hard Quadrilogy
**** Tracy
***** Harry
Django Unchained
Dogtooth - Greek
Dogville
Doubt
Dracula, Bram Stoker's
Dragonheart
Dream House
Drive
Drop Zone
Dumbo
Dune Extended Edition
Ears Open, Eyeballs Click
Easier With Practice
Easy Rider 1969
Edward Scissorhands
Empire of the Sun
Encino Man
Enter the Void by Gaspar Noe
Eraser 1999
Eyes Wide Shut 1999
Face Off 1997
Fallen
Fantastic Mr. Fox
Fast Times at Ridgemont High
Fight Club
Fill the Void
Fish Tank
Fitzcarraldo
Five Minutes in Heaven
Flickan 2009 - Swedish
Flubber 1997
Folks!
Forbidden Planet 1956
Fracture
Friday 1995
Friday After Next 2002
Frost Nixon
******* Amal - Swedish
Full Metal Jacket
Funny Farm 1988
Funny Games
Fur- An Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus
G.I. Jane
G.I. Joe Retaliation
Gangs of New York
Gangster Squad
Garden State
Get Rich or Die Tryin'
Ghostbusters 1
Girlfriend
Girl, Interrupted
Glengarry Glen Ross
Gomorra - Italian
Great Expectations 1998
Greenberg
Grindhouse Death Proof
Grindhouse Planet Terror
Groundhog Day 1993
Grumpy Old Men
Grumpier Old Men
Gummo
Gus Van Sant's Last Days
Half Nelson
Hannibal
Havoc
Haywire
Heartbreak Ridge
Heat
Hell on the Pacific 1986
Hesher
Hitchcock
Holy Rollers
Hook
Honey I Shrunk the Kids
Hyde Park on Hudson
I Am Curious Blue
I Am Curious Yellow
I Heart Huckabees
I Stand Alone by Gaspar Noe - French
If Looks Could **** 1991
I'm Not There
In Bruges
In The Line of Fire
Inglorious Basterds
Inland Empire
Innerspace 1987
Innocence
Interview With the Vampire
Jacob's Ladder
James Bond - Diamonds Are Forever 1971
James Bond - From Russia With Love 1963
James Bond - Goldfinger 1964
James Bond - Never Say Never Again 1983
James Bond - On Her Majesty's Secret Service 1969
James Bond - Thunderball 1965
James Bon - You Only Live Twice 1967
Jane Eyre
Jeremiah Johnson 1972
JFK
Joe Versus the Volcano
Johnny English 2
Julien Donkey-Boy
Juno
Just Cause
Kapringen aka A Hijacking - Icelandic
Ken Park
Killing Season
Killing Them Softly
Kindergarten Cop
Kingpin
Koyaanisqatsi
Krippendorf's Tribe
Kiss the Girls
La Vie En Rose
Last Night
Last of the Dogmen
Leon: The Professional
Leonard Pt. 6
Les Miserables
Lie With Me
Life of Pi
Lincoln
Lions For Lambs
Little Children
Lord of the Rings Trilogy BR Extended
Lord of War
Lost Highway
Love and Other Drugs
Love in the Time of Cholera
Love Liza
Lovers of the Arctic Circle
Mad Max 1979
Mad Max 2 1981
Mad Max 3 1985
Major Payne
Malcolm X
Man on Fire
Manhunter
Maverick 1994
Meet Joe Black
Melancholia
Menace II Society DIrector's Cut 1993
Mesrine 1 Killer Instinct - French
Mesrine 2 Public Enemy - French
Milk
Minority Report
Mission Impossible Ghost Protocol
Mister Lonely
Money Train
Moonrise Kingdom
Moulin Rouge
Mr. and Mrs. Smith
****** By Numbers
Munich
My Sassy Girl 2008
Naqoyqatsi Life As War
National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation
National Treasure Book of Secrets
Never Cry Wolf
Never Let Me Go
New Jack City
New York I Love You
Night on Earth 1991 - Italian
Nixon
Not Fade Away
Notes on a Scandal
O Brother, Where Art Thou
October Sky
Olympus Has Fallen
Ondskan - Swedish
One False Move
Out of Africa
Outbreak
Palmetto
Paris Texas Criterion 1984
Passenger 57
Paths of Glory 1957
Perfect Sense
Peter Pan
Philadelphia 1993
Pinocchio
Pirate Radio
Platoon 1986
Pleasantville
*******
Project X 1987
Proof
Quiz Show
Rabbits
Revolver
Robocop Trilogy
Robot and Frank
Rolling Stone's Gimme Shelter
Romance and Cigarettes
Romeo and Juliet 1996
Sahara
Saving Private Ryan
Schindler's List
Searching For Bobby Fischer
Secretary, The
Seven Years in Tibet
Sgt. Bilko
Shame 2011
Shine
Shooter
Shopgirl
Sid and Nancy
Sin City
Sky Captain and The World of Tomorrow
Skyfall
Slackers
Sleepers
Sleeping Beauty 1959
Sleeping Beauty 2011
Sleepy Hollow
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
Somewhere
South Central
Sphere
Spread
Spy Game
Stand Up Guys
Stay
Summer Hours - French
Sweeney Todd - The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
Synecdoche, NY
Syriana
Talk To Her - Habla Con Ella
Taken 1 & 2
Takers
****
Taxidermia
Tetro
Thank You For Smoking
That Thing You Do!
The Adjustment Bureau
The Age of Innocence by Martin Scorcese 1993
The Bad Lieutenant - Port of Call New Orleans 2009
The Basketball Diaries
The Beach 2000
The Believer
The Beverly Hillbillies
The Black Dahlia
The Blue Lagoon 1980
The Book of Eli
The Boxer
The Constant Gardner
The Conversation
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
The Darjeeling Limited
The Dark Knight
The Dark Knight Rises
The Day of the Jackal
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
The Fifth Element
The Flock
The Flowers of War
The Fountain
The Getaway
The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo 2011
The Golden Compass
The Good Shepherd
The Good The Bad and The Ugly
The Goonies
The Green Mile
The Grey
The Help
The Hudsucker Proxy
The Hurricane
The Hurt Locker
The Ice Storm
The Ides of March
The Illusionist
The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus
The Impossible
The Informers
The Invasion
The Iron Lady
The Island of Dr. Moreau
The Jackal
The ****
The Killer Inside Me
The Kingdom
The Legend of Bagger Vance
The Lost Boys
The Lost Boys The Tribe
The Lost Boys Thirst
The Machinist
The Mask
The Man Who Fell to Earth 1976
The Master
The Mechanic
The Money Pit
The Naked Gun 1
The Naked Gun 2
The Naked Gun 3
The New World
The Pelican Brief
The Place Beyond the Pines
The Prestige
The Queen
The Raven
The Reader
The Red Balloon
The Right Stuff
The Road
The Rock
The Rocketeer
The Rules of Attraction
The *** Diary
The Saint
The Shawshank Redemption
The Silence of the Lambs
The Skin I Live In - Mexican
The Soloist
The Talented Mr. Ripley
The Thin Red Line
The Town
Transformers Trilogy
The Tree of Life
Tron Legacy 2010
The United States of Leland
The Usual Suspects
The Way Back
There Will Be Blood
There's Something About Mary
Three Days of the Condor
Three Kings
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
To the Wonder
To Rome With Love

Tombstone
Total Recall 1990
Trainspotting
Trash Humpers
True Lies
Two Lovers
Two Weeks in September(Brigette Bardot) 1967
Tyrannosaur
Unbreakable
Uncle Buck
Unforgiven
Unleashed
Unstoppable
V for Vendetta
Varsity Blues
Vertigo
Vicky Christina Barcelona
Videodrome
Virtuosity
Wag the Dog
Wake Up Ron Burgundy The Lost Movie
Walkabout
Wall Street 1987
Wall Street 2010
Wanderlust
Water World
Wayne's World 1 & 2
We Are The Night
War Witch
We Need to Talk About Kevin
Weekend by Jean-Luc Godard - French
Weekend 2011
West of Memphis
What Doesn't **** You
What's Eating Gilbert Grape
When Harry Met Sally
Where the Wild Things Are
White House Down
White Material Criterion 2009
White Oleander
Who is Harry Nilsson?
Wolf 1992
Womb
You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger
Zardoz 1974


Documentaries & Music Videos


BBC - Life in Cold Blood
BBC - Planet Earth
BBC - Rolling Stones Crossfire Hurricane
BBC - Great Bear Steakout
BBC - Ice Age Giants
BBC - Insect Worlds
BBC - Life on Earth 1979
BBC - Lost Cities of the Ancients
BBC - Operation Snow Tiger
BBC - Penguins: Spy in the Huddle
BBC - Polar Bear: Spy on the Ice
BBC - Richard Hammond's Miracles of Nature
BBC - The Life of Birds
BBC - Wonders of Life
David Blaine Collection
**** Proenke Collection - Alone and Solitude, The Frozen North
Encounters at the End of the World 2007
Nanook of the North
National Geographic Wild Kingdom of the Oceans Giants of the Deep: Whales
Shine A Light - The Rolling Stones
Vladimir Horowitz - Der Ietzte Romantiker
Vladimir Horowitz - Live in Vienna 1987
Vladimir Horowitz - The 1968 TV Concert
Whale Adventure with Nigel Marvin
Harold r Hunt Sr Feb 2016
Shoot that groundhog
The snow remains on the ground.
Cold air is rocking the north.
Buffalo is digging out of the snow.
People are buying all the milk and bread.
Roads are close. Schools are out.
The groundhog said 6weeks of snow.
People are panking, and shouting shoot that groundhog!
For its the July 4th and it's snowing in buffalo.
Brandon Sep 2013
Is today even a different day from any other day?
I'm having trouble telling the difference anymore.
I write the same stories, the same songs, the same poems.
I see the same people who say the same things about the same subjects that everyone else is already talking about.
I see the same movies with the same plots.
I'm not even sure if they're different actors and actresses anymore.
I hear the same promises in every political party without any differences in policies.
One says this.
One says that.
A tug of war on who can get nothing changed and nothing accomplished.
I taste the same manufactured food everyday.
My tongue can't tell the difference between a cheeseburger and a cardboard box anymore.
The same crimes.
The same innocents.
The same lies.
The same truths.
The same work.
The same goofing off.
The same write ups.
The same appraises.
The same advice to change things up.
The same advice to stay the same and never change.
The same old fights.
The same moments of making up.
The same *******.
The same Groundhog Day.
The same Groundhog Life.
Kirsty Taylor Apr 2021
Every night, I lie in bed and think of her, her lost eyes

My heart cries as I see her sitting alone
   Staring vacantly out the window at the bird feeder
   The bitter truth is
   The things she forgets are the banal moments
   Her days have become groundhog, so is it so bad to not realise that she is in that cycle?
   The things that matter she still remembers
The time when she was 8 and had laughter with passing soldiers

Playing pranks on those same soldiers with the cheeky grin that’s never left her
When she nearly ended up in Canada to stay safe
Sharing sweets with the best friend she loved and lost

She remembers mum when she was just a foot tall
She remembers me when I could only utter the odd word
She remembers my brother when he had the cheekiest grin, and the brightest laugh
She may even remember better than we all do
Its funny how that works
Laughter is the best medicine she tells me
This is something I now believe wholeheartedly
As every time I see her I see it in action
She makes me laugh
She helps me understand life
She respects me
She builds me up

Strength, endless strength
Smile, the smile it never leaves her
Leaving her breaks me,
But seeing her break, hurts me.
Reality, she isn’t broken
Just stuck on the rewind button
She’s still here
She’s still with me
She’s one of the lucky ones
I’m one of the lucky ones
We’re one of the lucky ones


People ask how is she doing?
I simply answer she is in a battle against groundhog day, And get this she is winning.
Robert Ronnow Sep 2015
Science can't save you, neither can religion,
at least Popper and Niebuhr, philosophers and poets,
are entertainers, which is why actors and athletes
are paid so much. Thanks for the summaries.
I was teaching Shakespeare's 92nd ridiculous sonnet
to my student who lays blacktop in the off season
Shakespeare bellyaching about dying without her love
a feeling foreign to a modern adolescent sensibility
although many teens are pretty far gone searching
for their mothers or fathers in their dazed lovers' eyes.
Which is why we call it "the wound that never heals."
Or the lesion that's always lengthening. And bleeding.

Muslim fundamentalists and their Christian counterparts
are a mystery to me. Pews and prayer rugs, the airless
indoor environment of religious worship, reading
scriptures, hypnotized by hymns and fainting from staring
at candles through stained glass windows, almost certain
the preacher is faking his certainty about the afterlife.
It's not my problem. A more immediate concern:
receding gums and tooth extractions, swollen joints,
poor lubrication and circulation, wave after wave
of viral infection, the occasional antibiotic-resistant
bacterial attack, usually urinary, and who knows
what internal organs are dividing and conquering
without mercy or cease, i.e. the wound that never heals.

It is wise not to overvalue your continued existence,
good not to be innumerate, unable to compare
a mere 80 years with say 6.0 x 109 or all of time
(to date) times the multiverse. Conversely,
it is interesting all of space and most of history is contained
in your mind (realizing of course it's just a map
of the cosmos not the cosmos itself, or is it?). I'm
unable to wrestle free, tongue in that cavity
and locked in my memories, so separate and disparate
from the biomass in the crosswalks, even my spouse.
Alone, so alone, even your doctor can only devote
limited thought to your situational mortality through
the redress of poetry - also a wound that never heals.

Snow for eternity, that's what this February's been.
All to the good, for someone it's the final February
so enjoy it to the extent you can. By that I mean joy.
Joy at birth. Joy at death. All joy. All times. Anyway,
that was Shakespeare's message: even tragedies are comedies.
May, a Buddhist, chants each morning.
Her husband, Marc, who's Jewish, plays league tennis.
Their son, Aaron, will soon make Eagle scout.
How does that relate to your wound that never heals?
Luck runs out. For D.H. Lawrence in New Mexico
or Ulysses S. Grant in Ohio or Yasujiro Ozu in
Tokyo or Satyajit Ray in Bombay or Rabindranath
Tagore in Bangalore or at the Battle of the Atlantic in the Azores.

The night is a poultice, winter or summer solstice.
My anonymity will not affect the anomie ghettoside
seeing for myself how season by season
vacations and accomplishments accumulate, late in life
and early on, sunrise over mountains or moonrise over Bronx.
Masturbator, prisoner of war. Hospice of the Holy Roman Empire.
Numerous blue notes: the 3 flat, 7 flat, 5 flat,
the 6 flat and the 2 flat too. I don't get
what Wallace Stevens means by imagination.
When groundhog shows up as a totem, there is opportunity
to explore the mystery of death without dying.
This then is the purpose of purposelessness (and of eating less)!
Now what about that wound that never heals.

The Skeptical Observer column in Scientific American
was somewhat alarming when he accepted a paranormal
explanation for how his wife's grandfather's inoperable
transistor radio played music from its hiding spot
in his sock drawer on, and only on, their wedding day.
Now I'll have to believe my father (or mother!) is watching me
perform private ****** acts with (or without) partners
or that they could even know my thoughts. Or aliens
are attending our committee meetings and making
perfectly reasonable decisions given the available information
and the world is rotating just fine without humans.
These possibilities - angels, ghosts, aliens - are better
than holocaust and genocide. In this way,
and only in this way, does doom become endurable.
The wound that never heals in the end is all you'll feel.
www.ronnowpoetry.com
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
from the simple email, to now a pitch-perfect complication
of the internet - no performance poetry found here -
performance meaning singing, meaning cascade of rhymes
to help you memorise sentences and shake your hands
about - ekphrasis (εκφρασις) - performance stand-up
but not stand-out - i'm not complaining, i'm just feeling
the fear and loathing too - or according to M. Schmidt (
no, not Martin Schmitt, the ski-jumper, but then again
the two seem almost indistinguishable when said -
counter e.g. gnome - 'nome and schmi'dt'dt'dt'tt stutter
at the end of words rather than at the beginning before
the dam gates open for the word to flow out from).
besides the point, can you imagine Kant using the phrase
a fortiori in his work that uses only a priori and
a posteriori? i only came across it today - but given
the big *** systematic approaches, you'd find it hard
to squeeze in a fortiori into the complex narrative -
an entire blackboard of mathematical proof concerning
disallowing the end product to be ∞: in philosophy that means
explaining something on a universal basis, the entire human
concern for things said, things done, things owned -
inserting the term a fortiori where once came a priori
would be a disaster for the Kantian narrative, he'd
have to write another critique all on its own to insert that phrase
among a complete systematisation of that phrase -
well the funny thing is, this expression goes in line with that
i observed about left and right, hands eyes whatever -
indefinite a- and the definite -the articles and then an ism -
i sometimes feel funny or at least embarrassed that i keep
repeating this notice from time to time -
but you would expect me to include gravity too,
or how i used to be a flower thief in spring bordering
on winter, plucking the eager flowers in the frost around
the countryside - well, i revived that practice today,
plucked two stalks of lavender (they were pinching my
nose when i walked past with a beer) and something
resembling lavender... google-moment... if only they
created apps that could tell you what flower it is you're
trying to identify, search engine impromptu -
well... it's either a coin-toss between
summersweet (clethra alnifolia) or butterfly bush
(buddleia davidii) - but it could be something else -
cigarette, beer and sniffing lavender, just my kind of night -
i swear to god i once drank a lavender-flavoured beer,
or cider... i can't remember -
but by definition, when i look at philosophy books i feel
they're much too bound to something said earlier
and followed by something to support it -
or in the case of a fortiori the expanded-upon basics,
i.e.: from a / the stronger (thing) - which means
it's a dual-carriage way of saying what you want to say:
from a stronger thing - from the stronger thing -
in real life that's like: what we get from a telescope,
or? what we get from a microscope -
stars aplenty - G-Rex 5571 in the Zodiac constellation,
U80802Z from the constellation of Poseidon -
i mean, flimsy answers - sky's the limit - then
the azure cage hovers over us during the day and
we turn to daydreams packing apples into crates -
telescope: oh airy-fairy, somewhere far far away -
microscope: got that needle and thread with you?
well, whatever we have, we know that our minds are
not build for the omni- affix when affixed to anything,
esp. god. Jews never bothered with it - there are just
as many necessary limitations of a deity as there are
as many unnecessary limitations of our freedoms -
that's how you move away from big ideas and narratives
of a Kant, with his chequers of analytic / synthetic
a priori / a posteriori and concern yourself with
knives (indefinite) and scissors (definite) articulation of
language - hell, we can go down the road much further
and say something about indirect and direct articles -
pronouns are the prime subscribers -
you wouldn't talk to a Jihadi directly as you'd talk about
him indirectly - i shared that curiosity with a local
stranger-mate in a park once walking his dog,
an ex-banker - those boom-bomb boys are being prescribed
the same thing that the Lufftwaffe pilots were prescribed
(pervitin) - but i doubt they got their hands on the pure
medical stuff, they're probably on amphetamines...
oh the R.A.F.? yeah, drunk like skunks.
but just imagine rewriting the Critique with a fortiori
and a infirmiori - disobeying "correct" definition,
as already mentioned the pronouns composed from
articles, as in condensed to indistinguishable parameters -
a fortiori - from something stronger            -
             a infirmiori - from something weaker -
(as already stated, the original definition of
  a fortiori was - from a / the stronger [thing]) -
so the articles disappear and couple themselves to the word
thing (word meaning, no grammatical classification is
really necessary, because if grammatically classified it would
be too obstructive) - but because of this lack of
grammatical classification of the word thing,
we are already associating the definitions via only the
indefinite pronoun - rather than a definite pronoun (i.e. nothing),
it would be pointless to write definitions using a definite
pronoun - well, up to a point, i suppose that
suggesting both a fortiori and a infirmiori to be defined
as: from nothing stronger and / or weaker we can create
a self-mechanistic-propeller, a way of self-overcoming that
in the end arrives as self-knowledge, obviously the
ultimate purpose - and this goes against all solipsistic despair,
as it also goes against making too many comparisons
with others, some who are weaker than us, and some who
are stronger than us - for the stronger will make light
of one set of propositions as the weaker will make light
of another set of propositions to suit their demands -
this can only be seen in light of Kantian-Darwinism,
survival of the fittest and what not -
Kant had in mind something simply said historically in
a condensed sphere of reality, Darwinism kinda did away
with historical realism, soon after the English Renaissance
after the second world war, Darwinism picked up again,
as a way to shut off the murk of the Holocaust -
Elvis did his bit, the Beatles too, but once the imagination
dried up, people decided they wanted to travel back
in time to 10,000 B.C. - and you think artistic expression
will end up a concept prog rock album, or a cute 3 minute
synthesizer song while M.T.V. turns into a 16 year old's
******* of a baby? i'm going keep the acronym, and instead
call it MORAL TELEVISION, or? how to buy a ******
or pull out early - but obviously i'd get a wisecrack comeback
from Juno - see a preacher man anywhere around here?
Kantian algebraic (big words, small people, Belgian waffles
too):                                                    ­              a. / s. after
                                           (event) x.
a. / s. prior
                                     what qualifies?
                                    - historical hindsight -
                                    - the current historical catalyst(s),
        THE BIG BANG... or as i like to call our current history,
an interchange on the words: BIG BANG BLACK HOLE...
BANG A ******* HOLE... get a BIG CLOCK...
******* HOLE... which is what it looks like at night...
two catalysts overall - and boy we're speeding
to Groundhog day - the biggest changes in history were
some celebrity's haircut - that's relative to
what happened when the Treaty of Versailles was signed;
BIG HOLE BLACK BANG (and that's thanks to dark matter) -
but to be honest, if i'm given only these two historical
vectors to work with... i'm not surprised so many
Islamic youths are disfranchised, choosing a third,
Jannah - it seems like a natural thinking process that
will never make it into popular media -
just thinking about it probably warms the heart,
obviously to an extremely violent end -
but this is gone way beyond the heliocentric and
geocentric arguments - because up there, where you
can see the earth where the hell is Copernican East
or Copernican West? it's nice to know that the earth
isn't flat... but that won't help you reaching the Panama
Canal from Portugal... will it?!
AM Mar 2016
just like Groundhog Day
he's repeating the same warning;
the reasons of our undoing,
a parachute to keep us from falling
jane taylor Jun 2016
this time is dark and dreary
why do i live it out?
i’m in the dirt and dusty road
what’s this life all about?

i look up and it seems like miles
‘till i could reach the sky
someone told me that i could go
but i know it’s a lie

but somethin’ says
fly high butterfly
come on, you won’t die
fly high butterfly
come on reach for the sky
fly high butterfly
come on butterfly fly

fly high butterfly

i feel that i can’t do it
i wanna stay the same
though this is hard and rough terrain
to me it’s home i say

then groundhog day it is again
please stop it i implore
the wounds need healin’ i am hurt
can’t take it anymore

but somethin’ says
fly high butterfly
come on, you won’t die
fly high butterfly
come on reach for the sky
fly high butterfly
come on butterfly fly

fly high butterfly

i crawl up to my empty shell
i curl up inside
i wait, i’m frightened, what to do?
i feel like i will die

i melt down into nothingness
i cannot take the pain
but something’s changin’ i wake up
to see life once again

cuz somethin’ said
fly high butterfly
come on, you won’t die
fly high butterfly
fly on up to the sky
fly high butterfly
come on butterfly fly

i flew and saw the light
i’m alive butterfly
now i know that this is the life
have the courage fly

fly high butterfly

©2016janetaylor
this is a song i wrote the music and lyrics to
https://youtu.be/idWIrkCVKPw
The straw that broke the camel's back
Was auctioned off on Ebay
And bought by an amnesiac
Who liked collecting hay.

If possession is nine-tenths of the law
All I need to do now
Is buy the final straw

And then he was sectioned
And taken away.
Paul Butters Mar 2011
I see a pattern Everywhere:
Circles and globes (three dimensional circles);
Shiny rings of fire.
Countless manifestations of this same shape.

Star-spangled galaxies wheeling through the sky:
That half-globe dome.
Earth, in circular orbit (more or less) around the Sun,
Escorted by the Moon.

Days give way to seasons,
Repeating every year.
Groundhog Days becoming
Groundhog Creations
Perhaps.

The list seems endless:
Hopkins’ dapples,
Planets, craters, cyclones, anti-cyclones, sea currents,
*****, apples, oranges, nuts, potatoes,
Teardrops, heads, faces, eyes, mouths,
Holes!

Coins, bin lids, and plates;
Sunflowers, daisies, pansies,
Rings of mushrooms,
Circling birds of prey,
A cat curled in a circle,
Like a foetus.

Life as we know it
Is a circle
And a cycle too.
Birth, Death, Blossom, Wilt.
Reincarnation?
Renewal?
Clock-faced Time itself.

Eternity might be a circle,
Infinity the same.
Maybe even God,
Some way.

Perhaps we still are building God,
For Him or Her to travel back through time
Like Doctor Who
To Create The Big Bang,
And form this expanding Universe,
Thus taking us full circle.

Or maybe the Universe will fold back in upon itself,
Producing yet one more Big Bang,
In an endless cycle,
Of Big Bangs,
Amongst this ever circling
Multiverse.

Paul Butters

© PB, 14th February, 2011 at 14.00, in Humberside.
© PB, 14th February, 2011 at 14.00, in Humberside.
thalia Jan 2016
heartbreak comes naturally for some, Groundhog Day of the heart.
sometimes I wish that I could lose feeling,
I wish I could be ignorant.
hate is always a strong word
but dislike is far too tame,
for you are a parasitic pendulum
in the grandfather clock of my forehead,
you swing back and forth hitting the walls of my skull like a migraine and no amount of painkillers can dull your presence,
you are the excruciating epitome of an extinct euphoria
and I tell myself that things are getting better
but I realize you wear a necklace of bullets,
each one with a motive to pierce my elation and engulf itself in my pity.
the bullets stay close to your heart, just as I wish I could.

~ T.T
jane taylor May 2016
i fight to peel each moment
of pure stagnation
off of me

a tinnitus cacophony whines in my ears
as my dilapidated fan
keeps slow rhythm to the faucet drip

minutes drag like molasses
handcuffed to the daily lag
groundhog day

i escape into the forest
running, the breeze caresses my face
wildlife pries open my desperate eyes

a spider’s web bends and sways in the wind
fine strands of silver silk flow
soaring they meld in crescent waves

a butterfly glides gently by
befriending gusts of air
softly breathing in another tomorrow

the conductor of the symphony
with sculptor’s hands i cannot see
whispers ever graciously

life is not your enemy
drink it in and let it seep
drop your sword i’m molding thee

©2016janetaylor
WARNER BAXTER Dec 2013
bat flies sees nothing
from his nest eagle sees all
the groundhog takes bets
Tim Eichhorn Feb 2015
New scenes seen
between three
beams. Streams
of white light
write plights by
rye bread farms.

Alarmed, were the
workers; surely
hurling any hay
bail unveiled from
summer's uprising-
-spring. Even though
I fling arrows like I'm
In a gladiator ring.
Meaning is abstractly political. I am finally starting my own party. A 22 yr old idiot
GaryFairy Feb 2015
punxsutawney phil has nothing on me
i see my shadow every day
not that great, not something to see
i wish i could hibernate my life away
Wuji Sep 2012
If plants can overgrow,
Then we as a species are obese.
Leaves make trees more beautiful,
But fall has rid us of all of them.

We are a rotting tree in winter,
And our demons live inside.
Hibernating the fear and angst away,
Since they can't afford to hide.

Everyday we pray,
No groundhogs will be afraid.
So spring can spring upon us,
And feed our many roots.

But Mr. Groundhog,
Doesn't show up.
All he does is paint sliver linings,
And keep our hopes up.

With the sun keeping spring a secret,
That only fools know.
Shadows are scary.
Robin Carretti May 2018
He quietly appears so many years have passed smelling the amazing greener then life grass a potent filled with magic the invisible man he passed.
Splendor in the grass

Ehh Oh yuck someone
abandoned you
On the runway
He Grilled walked in
fashionable late
The head of his
mansion

You needed to
tolerate
Oh! Chuck
Full of gas
shattered_
her mind
with scars coming
toward her
like glass

The wake-up call
The lady of
all envy
Winning
an Emmy
Adelle
We could
of had it all
Another name
Amy
For the love,
Of a ghost
Like the
Candy Man
Invisible man
from
Ireland

Something got posted
seductively
Blindfolded hosted
Designed into his
Money hand
Powdered substance
poisoned her

Invisible man
Her eyes got
Smoked like
Poison Ivy
In the Army now
Please too much
Attention of green
Arabian in the Nile
Miles and miles
Navy to be seen
He was colored blind
Different eye
Brown in one and blue
Something hatched

Matchmaker  Ghost rider
Fiddler on the roof
We need a story writer
Like a horse
without a hoof
To neigh the right
stuff

I Sir "Infinitely" so
"Existentially"
Remarkably
Divinely
Ghostwriter
Her words were
blank
She is so genuine
Every other day
He was mine
The quiet man
Super shy
Another try
Valentine's day +*

Writing but not seeing
I love you until this day
Quiescently being forced
he entered emerged
I love you let's get
engaged
Beg your pardon
was not her
To be loved so sorry to be
changed
Like a stale piece

Her niece vintage
furniture more love
and peace
Quietly operation
tugged
Someone got flagged
That blind man
faced
And looked into
the  quiet man
On someone's 
body
The smells
like Moms
perfume her
exact tune
New Jersey Patch reader
"The Catcher in the Rye"
To weird the movie
Carrie
School can be strange
A bucket list of water
down your head
She walked

The Quiet man lips
No small talk
Ghost post bed
Not even one star
could be heard
The gas lamp
she tripped
Out of sight

She saw a face not to
be described

So inhibited like
endangered
species

The invisible man
loved her
But got his
vengeance on
anyone
that was too near her
People wanted so
much to
be her
Her force
indescribable

When someone was
clear to see
Extremely well visible
she didn't care to
know them

Her nose on the tip
baking with flour
Ghostly the hostess
of the most
But feeling his
energy the invisible
the man was
courting her so challenging

New flame "Procreating"

Hemming her long skirt
Her diary innocence
Being on her side
but scheming
Disguise home staging
From the ridiculous to the
subline

Her address
Send forget me knots
street
Only blind
people are the kind
you want to find

SOS  surrender or out
The other S Soulmate
Ghost
Hailed the Mary
The Quiet Man
John Wayne

The laundromat
Mack the knife
Invisible man
Inked his whole life
Waynes world
Born to be wild

The other man
Hit the metal
heavy music
fan
Drenched so humid
He was the Murad

Triangle mess
Shopping at London
Harrods
Let's hear it for
the girls or ((Gods))
The magical channeling
TV on the blink
Went right on his computer
All the quiet man linked

He finger waved by the world
Guinness drinking Heineken
beer
The ghost rider
Got grilled called upon
By Ron
College kid playing
Rugby
The good bad and
the Ugly
Clint Eastwood
stretched them out
like Gumby
Western gunshot slinger
He couldn't see the
Ghost rider
the
blank stares
Perky Rabbit Hares
All the negatives got
burned
Exorcist's heads twist
and shout eyes healed
about

Climbing the Jacks
of the shinning
Nowhere in the beauty of
Her heart gleaming

Took a blindfold call felt
somewhere but where?
But I couldn't see blinded
by stars
Over the rainbow, the skies
weren't blue
Being stalked by
someone you know

By the greater impossible
love
To be silent like she was
invisible
So naive at time feeble

Without an honorable
love of fee
Gone with the winding
shopping spree
Disworthy and sneaky
but for being
who or answers
Doctor Who?
Invisible man what
could he do

He was so flavorful
well balanced
strong nursed her well
and sturdy
Quiet man thinking in his
beloved study

She was no goodie
magical shoes
The Ghostwriter
left invisible
clues
More Quiet time
Lemonade time affair of a
Ghost man
Like Hannah and her sisters
Woody if he could
But he is a **** good writer
The Movies of NewYork
I am proud to say
I come from
Brooklyn NY

If lips could talk
pouty
Sensing something but why?
Hans Christian Anderson
Quiet man playing softly but
Killing me easily through the
Blind sighted window

The widows
War Veterans
True Hero My dad
World War 2
Wifes lies and fibs
Quiet leads to invisible
Heller Keller was so
fortunate
Like Fate, she was
the real
Mccoy, she could light
anyone's smile
with joy
The barbecue next season
So many years to reason
More gun control
Be more visible to others
Mothers and brothers
Have a heart of soul


Only the strong keep the
  fight
Just keep on trucking
Grill them show them
What you could write
Perhaps it's cool to be the
Ghostwriter
Not everyone likes
To see the clear picture
What is really taken

So what if people cannot read us
Somehow we are all blind that's
OK its a miracle how other people
Can make it the beautiful day


Of the next groundhog day
He was loving to be invisible
He wanted to keep it that way
So deep set her eyes
to die
Somehow talk could be cheap
And the shepherd of love loads

of sheep, silence is the best sleep

All in someones head so lovingly deep

Invisible but remarkable to be the person
you want to be or let's really look closer
it's not always rosier.
Can we be so invisible to everything we look at? What about being blind Helen Keller to me was the fortune of better futures your best wine out of the cellar. So what if you are blind there will always be someone you love around you just have to feel them
AP Mar 2015
I have used all the energy left in my gaunt body to escape this bed

Now I travel down steps that creak with noises of our past love as we wore them out by always racing each other up them to get here

Now I trudge down these stairs, alone, into the kitchen as I let the white french doors swing open to let the spring breeze join me

The wind recoils off of my pale face as I hold the cheesy tourist coffee mug that still bares your lipstick on its brim

I return back to the table where I find the morning newspaper with a date on it that reveals I haven't left the house in quite some time

And I flip to the crossword puzzle that apparently you solved many weeks ago, but the clues are hidden as I now recall the day your pen exploded in boisterous blue ink and we laughed together as we scrubbed each other's hands

Sink water splashed all over and ruined your flowing white gown, but that was no issue as we danced like it was raining and my hand creeped along your collarbone onto your shoulder, until you slapped it away because it was time for work

After brief lapses of intoxicating joy, the color in the walls and outside the windows oozes down Earth's canvas to uncover the true flavor or black and gray that surround me

It's in this return to reality that I utilize my lasts bits of sanity and avoid the sleeping pills to enter back into my slumber

I make my way back up the hollowed-out steps that are void of love, and collapse back into this bed as I drown in it's disturbingly comfortable sheets and pillows

In a few hours I'll arise again to trudge down to the kitchen and see if you're there, smiling, singing, solving strenuous puzzles with your immeasurable skill

And on the precipice of madness, the brink of lunacy, I'll whisper your name so I can stop tip-toeing along the boarder of suicide

For in these repeating nightmares, my balance has grown weary, and for moments my only desire is to join you beneath society, and into the great beyond

*Goodnight
If you read all of this, I appreciate it. I know this was quite long!
Teczboi Jun 2015
as i approach 50 I think
how did this happen...me getting old I mean.
I know the alternative is not that appealing...
but perhaps a granting of my own personal groundhog day is a worthy wish....it doesn't matter which.
I could craft most any day of my life into something spectacular!
Is that wisdom?
After almost half a century, I've surmised to be suspended in time the best I could ask for? well maybe, perhaps then I could amend all my imperfections... reform all the mistakes I've made and re-emerge a better man...
just now it occurs to me...this could be my groundhog moment...the epiphany that the next 50 years brings me living a life well thought... more compassionate, more open, more giving, more alive!
....more likely, just more use of adult diapers...
these thoughts occurred to me in 2012, as I contemplated my impending birth date.
Leal Knowone Feb 2015
depression set in
like the priest to sin
trying to hide it
when it all begins
the snow falls down
barring you underground
hell bent and heaven sent
who the **** knows were my mind went
no way to win
put on a grin
hide it again
your souls caves in
exploding imploding
like the shore life eroding
this should not be how time is spent
It seems everyone is having a ****** day, but it just one day, and things will change, and we hope the ******* will go away, so we can once agin have a smile on our face :)
Scarlet McCall Feb 2017
In deep winter’s chill a brief nudge
gets groundhogs, with barely a grudge,
to predict the season,
but I ask, with good reason,
if they differ, who will be the judge?
Something I always wondered.
Trey Evans Apr 2015
The psychiatrist wakes up every morning.
Gets dressed and ready to tackle another day at work.
Puts on his best suit and tie.
Something different, so to not seem repetitive.
Matching shoes, cuff links, the works.
Has his morning breakfast accompanied with a cup of coffee.
Heads out to his occupation while listening to his favorite songs on the radio.
Singing along word for word all the way there.
Greets his receptionist at the front desk and makes his way to his room.
Takes off his coat and hangs it up as he gets ready for the day's appointments.

Fast forward.

When his day is over, his mind is dead.
His face emotionless.
His receptionist gone, he has no one to say goodbye to.
His radio is silent on the way home.
Not one tune played.
Not one word uttered.
He arrives to his empty home and tosses his jacket on the floor.
He sits on his living room couch.
And he cries.
And cries.
And cries.
Until there's nothing left for his eyes to let go of
He strips, and showers
With the disregard for clothing himself, he falls into bed.
And into a slumber.

Repeat.
written 3/30/15
mike Feb 2013
hi again. my names mike. im scared. ive been recently diagnosed with acute paranoid schizophrenia, i think. however, the doctor(who is not a real doctor)was inaccurate. setting me up to be his personal test dummy. well, its not gonna happen again. im looking for a team to enact a certain duty. a job for those who seem qualified.

the qualifications?: experience in violence and time travel.

the job?: to never divulge secrets of the job, which involves kidnapping said doctor and retrieving a small metal instrument from within his skull.(i have the needed information for the retrieval of this device.)

the time?: any time before the future. once we've orchestrated then enacted our team meeting, we must use our time travel facilities within the same minute of our arrival, as i have already set our return time for the mission to one minute after the last team member(gregg) arrives on location of said meeting point. we will(once gregg finally arrives, 28 minutes late!) pile into the 8-man machine and activate, sending us to our destination: february 2nd, 1989. this is the date that(we'll call him doctor octopus) doctor octopus received his supposed doctorate from stanford university. we will then obstruct the way between his home and his graduating ceremony by means of designing a car crash scenario. he will be knocked out cold, allowing us easy passage into his car, excavating his limp frame, and bringing it to a secure location(walmart)where we will then inject his brain with a bio-mechanical agent, leaving him there to wake up, confused, and minus a degree. we will then travel to april 2nd, 1999, to re-engage with doctor octopus, to kidnap him in order to extract the mechanism from within his skull, which at this time will be fully grown and functional, having been implanted by us through the injection of the bio-mechanical agent 10 years and 2 months prior. once obtaining said device, we will use it to communicate with the inter-dimentional beings doctor octopus has done the bidding of. we will pose as doctor octopus to gather intelligence as to how to travel through time, allowing the mission success, bringing us back to the original point of departure, arriving exactly one minute after original departure. leaving us with existing alibis(for i know everyone was with their families on groundhog day, 1989. and my birthday, 1999.) and no traceable evidence or witnesses, including yourselves, for i HAVE taken the liberty of going back to all of your days of birth and murdering your mothers with said team still unborn in the wombs, yet have gone back to said dates again to stop myself. allowing for success and no traceable links.

the place?: nowhere. the mission has already been completed. good job team.

the compensation?: 7.79 per hour.
Paul Butters Sep 2015
What if it's not Groundhog Day but Groundhog Life?
Or, when I die, will I simply pass on God's baton to the next living thing?
Will I go to heaven?
Or find Nirvana.
Reincarnation or Renewal?
Or none of these?
Life is real
Or just an illusion.
False memories
And history
Supported by science
And Religion.
We may be Matrix
Or pure dust.
We may live forever,
Or end right here.
Who knows?

Paul Butters
Inspired by short film 12.01 PM and longer film 12.01 on same "Groundhog Day" theme.
gabersons Jul 2020
It's the same every day I'm a groundhog
Time to get to racing
but I'm shaking when I'm waking
Feeling sober but Its almost noon
can't remember what I've taken
What a cycle what fun
Until you're entire bodies aching
And you're wading through a pool of sweat
Quiet nodding in and out and hear the voices fading
You know exactly what they're saying smarten up and start praying
Alcoholics tell me I'm anonymous
And to act the way they say to me
Just another day another hour count the minutes til graces me


Not another dose another ** is gonna save me
Not some new clothes couple bros couldn't change me
Work yourself to death try make a lot of money
For shelter, warmth, for something in your tummy
Then for the real warmth seeping in your tummy It's a traditional leftover from
The latin liquor bunny
He's like the Easter kind, just got one thing on his mind
Except he comes every day
feed your body and mind  
It's all fine it's all fine
Except I basically got brined
Head and body now I'm dyin
Wouldn't change it for the world, couldn't change my mind
Yep
Jenny Gordon Feb 2017
Yo.  
[L1 the "he/his" is my father when I exuberantly said it looked like...April.]



(sonnet #MMMMMMCXIX)


Ah me!  His short reply:  "It's February." dense
With aye, signifcance--oh!  but how these pale
Yet baby-blue fresh skies white cloud puffs trail
Across in, like to ice floes' vague pretense
Upon some vast sea, whilst the sparrows thence
Chirp gaily, distant as the fragile scale
Of golden warmth's note--heavn's eye in detail
Thus proffers--hints of April in aught sense!
Come, feel it in your bones, nor say tis poor!
Tree skeletons' long naked boughs splashed to
Effect shift as thet purplish touch haunts fer
A space cloud islands and oh!  Say we knew.
Yes, I still cherish these, whileas the moor
Lies frozen, glad tis cuz I miss Mum too.

01Feb17a
Kick me.
Matthew Mckeown Feb 2019
no oil or pitches
to make tender
leather

ball and mitt
sidelined till
mercury is
ascending

shadow of
the groundhog
weather-
depressing
Francie Lynch Mar 2015
Next Sunday
When he leaves
The tomb,
And it's sunny,
Before noon,
Should his shadow
Fall on a sinner,
We've six more weeks
Of a Canadian winter.
I know, I'm already burning.
LexiSully Apr 2016
Sleepily and lazily, he makes his way out of the hole that has sheltered him from the cold

As he looks both left and right, does he long to see his shadow, which will send him away into slumber for a little while longer, or does he prefer to lounge in the shade of the day?

To him, the decision will take only but a moment

To reporters, onlookers, and bystanders, only the moment can tell.
David Nelson Oct 2011
up the down staircase

running in circles chasing my tail
rerunning another episode of groundhog day
trying to skim on the water without a sail
constantly getting in my own way

reaching for the stars without any arms
singing the blues to a house of the dead
searching for the clock in a room full of alarms
should be slamming the door closed instead

out of breath climbing the staircase with no end
when the only way that it goes is down
keeping my eyes closed trying to pretend
wearing the mask and the tears of a clown

the odds of completion like Custer's last stand
trying to understand the reason of risk and reward
counting the good things with only one hand
playing solitaire with a deck missing one card

Gomer LePoet ....
DC raw love Mar 2015
As the rain finally stop
I hear the last of the drops

The fading moon dark gray skies
Now showing a new misty blue

The sounds of pouring rain
Now changes to singing birds

As the sun crevices through the trees
I now hear squirrels running in the trees

I fight myself to open my eye's
Enjoying myself in the dream world

Still darkened in this house
I find myself needing relief
Not quite aiming correctly

As I continually fight my eye's
I find day old coffee in the ***
Which is ok my by me
Thank god for the microwave

I now sit at my desk
To start the next day
Robert Ronnow Mar 2021
Carrying a sleeping baby.
Cleaning after a successful party.

Camping beyond mountains more mountains.
Playing trumpet on the streets of New York City.

Eating although the food supply is deeply compromised.
Flying with Democrats and Republicans, evangelicals and atheists.

Flying like a fruit fly that won’t quit mating.
Cool as a hummingbird in a stream’s wet spray.

Abstaining wholly, absent from worldly life.
Two dogs fighting but not biting hard.

Chanting as if the planet were mending.
Gourmet dining, devout prayer, loving Mary.

Evenings watching tv. Scotch and Star Trek.
Taking off Emily Dickinson’s clothes.

Meeting in the meeting house, arguing and praying.
Planning a legacy as if you knew enough to control events.

Pursuing happiness as a naturalist or humanist.
Spinning with the planet, performing the history that surrounds us.

Killing many Germans, saving many Jews.
Doing less until one thing’s done well.

Fainting from staring at candles through stained glass windows.
Morning, a billion trillion nuclear detonations per second warming your
        bones.

Manipulating symbols, solving equations.
Disregarding tweets and facebook persuasions.

Sitting with a tiny Buddha near a rushing stream cutting a gorge.
Running, disciplining myself, making myself healthy.

Ingesting drugs, throwing die, drinking sludge.
Growing varicolored corn.

Participating in the cause because it’s impossible not to participate in
      the effect.
Running over a chipmunk, groundhog or a skunk.

Lying face down in the emergency room facing doom.
Waking up Monday thinking Sweet Saturday! but soon remembering
      your trick knee.

Turning the towering young thunder of my anger against my sons.
Regretting the callow dispassion with which I met my parents’ quietus.

Lawn mowing, leaf blowing, yapping dogs, napping old people.
No jets but a rooster mornings, cows and goats.

Al is painting an apartment. Sirma is cleaning the floors. Felix is taking
      out the garbage.
Deciding tentatively I slightly prefer Heifetz’ to Oistrakh’s Sibelius.

No cedar waxwings, no chickadees, but beautiful moon!
If you’re alone as you get, why are you crying?
—Collins, Billy, “Taking Off Emily Dickinson’s Clothes”, Sailing Alone Around the Room: New and Selected Poems, Random House, 2002.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2015
i can't even appreciate my own, it's like it's supposed to
be a lost finger, because upon reading poetry by women
i slide into young-adult delusional
associations with my own; it's women's poetry that's potent,
i know the giants homer and virgil made the narrative epic,
but i mean the snappiness, the snappy poetry of intelligence
that's like a dropped handkerchief picked up by a dog-collared
crow of sabbath with foolery, to escape the trade of alms
and last rites, that horrid trade of the briefest farewell
and all that coffin in autobiography: coffins for coffers;
rarely a poem about the liver or the pancreas, it's all from
the heart, but as honesty goes - i said it once already -
if all my poetry came from the heart - i couldn't -
it either comes from the liver or from my ****.
i guess that's how we'll survive, with the cleopatras and
catherines of this world, singing them lullabies
of our misappropriated "endowment." but what's eerie
about today is that the house is empty, a funeral is taking place,
a plumber has died... a plumber...  talk of 40 a day, beer
and dead before 60.
wife, tick.
children, tick.
grandchildren, tick.
but i can't understand this depth of things: the jews move eloquently
from border to border, picking up language after
language without really accenting the acquired tongue, as i did too,
but i don't understand why i would have to be seduced by
the accusation that i don't belong here, that i'm being too
audacious, too prickly and not funny - or why,
before all the troubles started the muslim preachers on edgware road
thought that i was german trying to convert me -
i don't know anymore, maybe i am, after all father said that
his grandfather had a wehrmacht dagger hidden in the cellar,
so the ageing is a bit perfect to dot dot dot the pieces together.
but what i mean is: well, after living here since one can remember,
but having the burden of acquiring a mother tongue
i sometimes feel like i'm in no man's land, i can't drop the mother
tongue, i'm using the acquired tongue more than the mother tongue
cognitively, but i read philosophy in the mother tongue
because i can't read philosophy in this acquired tongue;
i guess that's due to the overstrain done by darwinism in the english
tongue, i mean, there's a lot of good philosophy to
be read, but in english it's too much of a darwinistic
revocation - it's not like you could read sartre
talking about voyeurism through the keyhole
without imagining yourself a monkey,
it's the whole imagining the origin,
it's the whole: image - monkey - phonetic content - ooh ooh ooh.
it predates accounts of history, this whole take
from darwinism; i face the fact that darwinism
eroded much of history, it's like groundhog day,
that's why the media are so pulverising, so concentrated,
so seemingly omnipresent, 24h... the whole of
human history stopped! it's because when
humanity started to record **** happening
using phonetic symbols rather than pictures of antelopes
in caves, it started to record history,
but darwinism kinda erased that... so what's the
news now? oh right, skeletons, lookalike skeletons.
this isn't an argument against darwinism using theology,
just look at history, it stopped, we're living
in a 24h pre-recording awaiting various paranoias.

— The End —