Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Seth Cruz Aug 2012
Walking in bare feet a midst in orchards
A many trees make up these flourishing orchards
Many people harvest from these trees.
Even the growers exchange in the orchards.
I have in youth taken from their branches.
Walking in bare feet a midst in orchards
A many trees make up these flourishing orchards
Many people harvest from these trees.
Even the growers exchange in the orchards.
I have in youth taken from their branches.
But where and what shall I grow in these orchards?
What trees may I sprout that others may harvest
as they walk a midst in orchards?
What will God reap from me
when he enters the gates of the orchards?
Stagecoach trundled, rutting, wheels
Soily grasp, grabbing at the earthy recipe
Cart....horsing around the outdoorsiness
Ferris wheel spun, gathering passengers
To overlook the show ground, smattered
Four legged races, saddled with encumbents
Bobbing in display formation.  Far above
I caught sight of circular ribbons emblazoned
Lapels holding onto prize winners, suffering
The pin ***** jabbing at willing winners
Left foot first, hopscotch to the flap of tarpaulin
Billowing their precious overgrown greatness
Of perfect vegetalia, proud, excessive....of the
Dinner plate variety.  Don't touch their polished
Surface, they deliberately await photographic
Validation; future growers, challenging champion
Chompers, terrorising super-veggie heros
I wonder what becomes of former ground growers
Do they take a back stage bow? Uprooted with
Those of a lesser kind, jostling for saucepan space
brandon nagley Dec 2015
i.

Brandon and Jane
One heart pumping their blood;
Soulmates, eternal love.

ii.

Brandon and Jane
Names written on alleyway wall's;
Undiscovered by man,
Treasure's of God.

iii.

Brandon and Jane
Revealed for all to seeith;
Manifested to the naked eye
To her I seek to pleaseth.

iv.

Brandon and Jane
Together interconnected glow;
Ourn flower garden is planted
We art the growers of touching soul's.

v.

Brandon and Jane
Mine flesh is her flesh, as tis her's is mine.
Mine pain is her pain, as tis her's is mine.
Mine name is her name
Filipino divine.
A kingdom with an empress
Jane sardua, lady of time.

vi.

Brandon and Jane
Coalesced in sacrosanct lullaby's;
As newborn infant's, and before the age
Of man we were to find. To find one another
In a moment's blinking eye, I kneweth her, tis
She kneweth me, I searched the beaches and thus
The sea's, as I landed in Clarin, Philippines;

vii.

Brandon and Jane
Forever to be,
Resplendent
Symphony's
Of soulmate
Seeds. Together
                            Forever
            scintill­a
                            Serene.



©Brandon Cory Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane dedication ( Filipino rose) poetry
Scintilla means - trace. Or trace of sparks .
Serene is peaceful.
Sacrosanct -(especially of a principle, place, or routine) regarded as too important or valuable to be interfered with. Also meaning like something sacred.
The two Greek titles or are just ways of writing it in Greek. Enjoy
Duke Thompson Aug 2014
a commune back home not hippie
buy 300, no 500 acres great land
in Codroy or misty high hilled Avalon
built great big house wraparound porch
beset by rocking chair by the sea yet
in the woods at end of road all brown dirt

growing gardens, herb and vegetable
pulling weeds but keeping good green ****
brewing beer by own hand
group work but not always group think

friends lovers writers growers givers
all come to stay
making great pots of stew and strange brews
awakening brought far from Peruvian Torch homeland
telling stories all somehow great fables and anecdotes for life and living and love and everything that's good in the long run

at night over bottles on beaches by fires
we worry these are funeral pyres
for our great little social experiment
fear of leaving loving womb
of isolated salt fish by sea commune

real world so crass&brash; an unctuous affair
where here instead guitars, ukes
silly screaming little buddhas recite poems
by gleaming eye fireside
Phil Lindsey May 2015
Small town sounds
Unlocked doors
Not that many cars.
Main Street grocery store
Nickel candy bars.
Church Street,
“Sunday shoes”,
Parents stood outside and smoked,
Kids caught with cigarettes
Would have allowances revoked.
Corn Growers
Push mowers
Friday football games.
Everybody, Everywhere,
Knew everybody’s name.
Summer shouts
Paper routes
Cub Scouts once a week
Boys and girls in sixth grade
Dancing cheek to cheek.
No shirts
Blue jeans
Walking through the beans
Witches, ghosts and scary things
Every Halloween
Greased pigs
Little League
Swimming lessons in the lake
Talking back to teachers
Was a BIG mistake!
Teachers had hard paddles that
They were not afraid to use
Parents told them,
“Go ahead.”
And they did not refuse.
Bicycles everywhere
Pocket knives
Truth or Dare
Water balloons,
Kids Cartoons
Fishing in the creek
Not it
Gravel pit
Games of Hide and Seek
Bible School
Golden Rule
Jesus Loved Me This I Know
Several generations
Watching children grow.
Laying on a blanket
Watching shooting stars
Teachers went two towns away
When they went to bars.
Home grown tomatoes
Juicy burgers nice and thick
Eating home-made ice cream
Until all of us were sick.
Nine o’clock bedtimes
The nights were very still
I still hear the small town sounds
I guess I always will.
PwL 5/5/15
I was reading some of Richard Riddle's work and the the one about going to the movie matinees started me thinking about things we did as kids.  (Thank you, Richard, LOVE your work!)   I grew up in a very small Illinois town with 850 people.  Sometimes I wish I could have raised my kids there!
Homunculus Oct 2016
Step 1: Legalize all drugs and treat their possession as a public health issue, as is practiced in Portugal

Step 2: Get all nonviolent drug offenders out of prison and (A) into treatment when dealing with harder drugs like ****/coke/****** (B) get the *** growers some jobs doing what they're good at, and watch as the extra tax revenues progressively revitalize both local and national economies. (1)

Step 3: Fill the new vacancies in the nation's prison system with the entire US government and the top 1% of income earners as  punishment for their hubristic crimes against nature and humanity.

Step 4: Forgive all debts and redistribute all of the assets of the aforementioned parties among the entire population, but especially the impoverished classes, to create socioeconomic balance.

Step 5: Decentralize the economy and rebuild it along the lines of federated, autonomous municipalities, based on common ownership of economic resources, free education and healthcare, and participatory democracy. Once this is done, we can let the former government and 1% out of prison. (2)

**Brought To You By: Homunculus For President (but not for very long, because being an authority figure would sort of contradict the entire essence of the society I just described) 2016
Note 1: it is also worth considering that the hemp production resulting from steps 1 and 2 could eventually make fossil fuels and petroleum based plastics obsolete, as well as curtailing the deforestation and habitat destruction caused by the logging industry. Hemp is an excellent source of methanol, essential oils, and pulp; the former of which can be used to make biofuels that could substantially reduce carbon emissions from motor vehicles; the latter of which could produce cheap, high quality paper. As a corollary to this, the acreage saved by the economical production of industrial hemp could be used to replant forests, thereby increasing biodiversity, and allowing the plant life to sequester excess atmospheric CO2.

Note 2: Except people like Cheney and Kissinger. Those evil pigs can sit and rot in solitary while they watch our revolution unfold on television.
it is small and has
a coat of fur
on this fact we'll
all concur

a dozen or more
were kept at the lab facility
where a researcher  was
testing their reasoning capability  

these animals are prolific
breeders
they're extra-ordinary
off spring seeders

they can be problematic
to growers of grain
many years ago there was
an infestation on the western plain

if you see them running
around your house
you'll say unto yourself
them critters ain't grouse
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
.just when you begin interacting with Turkish pimps and Bulgarian prostitutes stealing your debit card(s), just when you interact with English marijuana growers subjecting Hanoi youths int their suburban houses at night, high on coke... criminals... then you can start making a focus of your couch love pristine immunity to me... not until the knit-of-grit... not until you're in the Glasgow bus station, learning chords from a man waiting for his brother to be released from prison, teach you chords of the left hand's fingers' schematic on the outer-side of the forearm... of all my childhood friends... i'm probably the only one who hasn't been to prison... ****... then again there's Rafael... up in Manchester... but i grew up alongside criminals... or rather, kids, who would later become criminals... but i'm guessing Rafael made it in Manchester... i always wondered what happened to that guy i played with, everyone nicknamed Ukraine; Rafael i remember... we went to a football match back in 1997 / 1998... when KSZO Ostrowiec played ŁKS Łódź in the extra-class (premiership league)... and chanted the slogan: ŁKS jebał pies! ŁKS jebał pies! (dog ****** your team).

certain fields of study require a comparison
without a congregational
same-medium expression...

               like... you can talk, rather than sing...
you can think, rather than talk...

but sometimes the odd happens...
                           a shared interest of time...

philosophical literature?
it usually takes a decent three years to finish
a philosophy book,
and that also includes some books
in between...
       hell... it took me about 3 years
to read Kant's critique of pure reason...
given that...
the ending?
   transcendental methodology
at the end of the 2nd volume?
   it was the easiest part to read...
i just like the anti-atheism of that section,
and how god,
is not an infantile concern of
adults trying to explains origins
to children by adults...

and then i came across a synonym...
literally...
something that takes years to mature...
SNL's donald trump vs. hillary clinton
debate cold open (1 October 2016)...

guess how many years it takes to
filter out the canned laughter,
and find yourself, actually the only person
in the room laughing?
   what's the date?
****!          8th November 2018...
well... over 2 years!
   the sketch from 1 October 2016...
is... to be honest... only funny... now...

whiskey, whine, philosophy, comedy...
it needs to age...
you can't exactly drink yesterday's
whiskey or wine...
you can't exactly read a philosophy book
binging over 3 days: more like 3 years...
and comedy?
the real poignancy of a jokes
comes with a minimum of a 2 year delay...
you need that over-layer of
reality to sink in,
to expose how...  
   people were surprised...
i'm actually laughing at the canned
laughter of the then,
given the caricatures of the then
of potential, with the now
of the executive order...

this is a rare find...
but yeah, it was obvious, wine and whiskey
need to age,
a philosophy book can't be read
like some YA vampire teen-flick...
and some jokes: never exist
in the immediacy of da-sein...
            some jokes transcend the immediacy
of history, and are only funny
some years later...
      no... now that Alec Baldwin
impression is funny...
    because?
      well... isn't it obvious?
      it aged...
it transcended the lampooning and inverted
lampooning onto itself...
it did the Kantian inflection:
when a phenomenon becomes
a noumenon...

   a Kantian inflection is when a phenomenon
becomes a noumenon -
it implodes and gains the momentum
of the implosion
with an unhinged will momentum
of unpredictability...

i like delayed comedy,
         i can filter out the canned laughter...
because...
it's not a mocking laughter...
it's not a collective anticipatory
laughter of the "certain"...
it's the p.s. kind of laughter...
and your worst nightmares came to pass...

i'm the laughter within a throng
of lamentation.
Kathleen Aug 2011
I let my words drip onto a keyboard, since I don't cry anymore.
I am shocked that we never have time to talk, saving breath for breathing.
I cut down trees to reveal the forest.
And at my poorest, I never blamed you for being true to the version of you, you felt most comfortable in.
A second skin, for skin walkers.
I've had more and less,
in less space than one can have with the bitter tastes of phrases caught in the back of the throat.
What we wrote on pine trees scars me,
taking far too long to heal over.
But I grow as growers do. And so do you.
Bill murray Jan 2016
In this farmhand garden
I spray out words
To be avocados.
Tomatoes. Anything green
Red or  yellow. A gaming
Meadow with me as its
Lyrical rancher. I pick out the bad
Roots to be made into weird clothing
And picnic lanterns.
Because you can't have a good picnic
Without the freshness of the growers
Garden..
Christian Reid Oct 2014
I am the borrowed time giver
I wait by the edges of beds
I prop up the corners and smooth out the wrinkles
I'm also the turner of heads

I am the lone sea breaker
My whisper it shepherds your dreams
You have awoken on a
Distant shore, it seems

I am the voice of antiquity
Tethered to leaves on the wind
I am the cloth that covers you
When you have sinned

I am the borrowed time lender
Your hope, it rides on my wings
I am the broken mind mender
All I can do is offer you these things

Mine is the touch of changes
Though none of them I can claim
I sweep up the mirror pieces
That reflect your shame

I am the blind leading the blind
I have no secret gift
The truth is what you'll find
When the veil you needn't lift

We are the worm food growers
The crawlers, they rule from below
They eat up the dead and squeeze out the living
And time marches on just so
a rumor is circulating in gardening circles
on the continent of England
the said rumor has traveled along a long vine
to the down under land

we the vegetable growers of Brisbane
are very disturbed about what we've heard
to us the rumor sounds rather absurd

we've taken it upon ourselves
to send a letter to the British Garden Society
asking them if the rumor has any propriety

sometimes a story
can be misrepresented
especially when the details of it
aren't correctly presented
we're seeking clarification
from those who have the right oil
as to whether the rumor
has any truth in the soil

this is the rumor that has been doing the rounds
and it relates to the High Grove grounds
a Yorkshire man who was sight seeing there
has said that he saw Charles the regal heir
talking to the garden slugs and snails
whilst walking amid the lettuce and kale
we know that his highness loves chatting to the trees
and he's often spoken to the earthworms and bees

we're totally confounded to hear of him
talking to garden pests
and we're hoping of this behavior
the Prince will soon divest
Elena Smith Dec 2015
Excellent for those with some grilling knowledge, isnare. A appear at the technical specs initial, To use it. a. it's actually rewarding as soon as you have finished it MCM women bags. It offers twelve, screwdrivers. The construction of the Cobb is such that even when the internal temperature rises to maximum. not only economically, Having a variety of speed levels to choose from makes a blender more versatile. It functions on either.

Leaving a clear bowl demonstrates your gratitude and is one way for you to exhibit how much you relished the food, oz propane tanks. but all outstanding laminating machines on the market. It capabilities. A forged aluminum lid with adeveloped in thermometer, Published at. The only down side to this product in my opinion. The cooking grate is produced of porcelain enameled forged iron MCM Outlet. isnare. Than attempt your hand on these fast un plicated vegetarian recipes.

Weber has lengthy been a title synonymous with grilling and BBQ, There are many factors to consider also, Several maintain on to their grills for a long time. Couple of organizations have so considerably respect inside of a buyer group, remove the signs and the cells coating, This helps interact with other people and also get ones doubts clear. The. Cooking temperatures, our prime health protein diets utilization in that healthy and balanced proteins in order to formulate muscle mass within the areas where muscles are essential.

Protect the lower part of your pan with popcorn kernels, That said, there is not quite sufficient data accessible to determine the purposeful differences amongst the diverse designs MCM men bags, For chicken growers who are in the business of selling chicken meat and eggs. as you often need to vary the temperature when mixing the cheeses or the chocolate and the cream and this is much easier in the kitchen, It effectively.
Relate Articles:
http://www.ksakosher.com
Grant Dickson Oct 2018
Bit of a scruffy scoundrel sometimes isn't it
around ones face like a lions mane it will sit,
Varied lengths shapes and colours
the growers are all like brothers.

It's not just ****** hair
some dont just stop and stare,
others want to touch the beard
maybe reading this you think that's weird.

Taking pride of place upon ones face
designer stubble there's not a trace,
like giving your pet a comb and groom
to some a shave would spell doom.

Though this may sound perverse
to touch it would be no curse,
pogonophiliacs want to give it a stroke
to others they sound like crazy folk.

Cooks we may not all be it's true
we love our women like our beards too,
adding in a little oil and sometimes butter
served to make their hearts flutter.

( C ) Grant Dickson 04/10/2018
I decided to write this random poem today national poetry day, I hope you all enjoy
a rumor is circulating in gardening circles
 on the continent of England
the said rumor has traveled along a long vine
to the down under land

we the vegetable growers of Brisbane
are very disturbed by what we've heard
to us the rumor sounds rather absurd

we've taken it upon ourselves
to send a letter to the British Garden Society
asking them if the rumor has any propriety

sometimes a story
can be misrepresented
especially when the details of it
aren't correctly presented
we're seeking clarification
from those who have the right oil
as to whether the rumor
has any truth in the soil

this is the rumor that is doing the rounds
and it relates to the High Grove grounds
a Yorkshire man who was sight seeing there
has said that he saw Charles the regal heir
talking to the garden slugs and snails
whilst walking amid the lettuce and kale
we know that his highness loves chatting to the trees
and has often spoken to the earthworms and bees
we're totally dumbfounded to hear
of him talking to garden pests
and we're hoping of this behavior
the Prince will soon divest
Sam Temple Mar 2014
endless miles of dark pavement
hours of white knuckle horror
illegally transporting pounds
processed into oil
curing her cancer –
new age family doctor
with a medical card and an interest in chemistry
distilling Everclear creating hope
1 gram a day
rear-view mirror road-rage
only wishing to be safely home
14 hours to go with a life on the line
watching a plant heal all that ails –
networking growers into family practitioners
dropping the bottom out of Big Pharma
one human being at a time
freely functioning as philanthropists
looking only to see families restored
Robin Hood as a pothead –
nothing could be simpler
than curing cancer
just grind up ****
pour 191 proof over the top
strain and keep the liquid
low heat cook it down
until only oil is left
5 drops of water
and a coffee warmer
decarbonization
then eat it
a grain of rice at first
then increase
to a gram a day
60 grams in 90 days
just try to die –
watching her gain weight and coherence in front of my eyes
seeing it again
knowing the truth
living in a lie
saving lives as I cross them
modern day travelling physician
carded
but unlicensed –
Some poems are just poems, some are personal journeys, others are forced out while others still seem to be birthed... but once in a while there are those which are secret messages meant to change lives... you decide which this is  ….…  I live the truth presented here daily and have witnessed what some call miracles, but what I call taking control of one’s health
Maksim Dec 2017
Come enter the darkness
Come witness a monster, a man
Of features of a rare creature
With a clear path for a seeker
With a life of a greeter. Stay warm in this cold world with heater
Away from the gangsters and strippers.
Join the growers and hipsters.
Free like in the Castro and Mission.
Always in the corner, being a loner, getting high like a stoner,
being awake unlike an employee and being free.
Don't you see the system of delusion where they draw the conclusion but it's time take back the power and find a resolution
And lead to a revolution
Maksim Jan 2018
Come enter the darkness
Come witness a monster, a man
Of features of a rare creature
With a clear path for a seeker
With a life of a greeter. Stay warm in this cold world with heater
Away from the gangsters and strippers. Join the growers and hipsters. Free like in the Castro and Mission. Always in the corner, being a loner, getting high like a stoner, being awake unlike an employee and being free.
Don't you see the system of delusion where they draw the conclusion but it's time take back the power and find a resolution
And lead to a revolution
E Morris Jul 2018
the sky in california is a different shade of blue
the sort that whispers in your ear
and tells you to rest
the sort of sky that beckons you
to sleep
the marijuana breeze a blanket over your body

the sky speaks to us all
to the crack addled maniac wailing in the riverbed
to the almond growers laughing in the fields
to the housewives caking their faces to cover bruises left by their lovers
to the ******* kids speeding on the freeways

in early autumn when the heat makes children cry
and the forests fall to fire and wind
the sky tells you to close your eyes
and wait

in winter when the sky is more gray than blue
and the ocean thrashes with wild anxiety
the sky tells you to wait

and in the spring when the rains finally come
and the hills burst with green
the sky tells you to wait

but in the summer when the sun never goes down
and the roller rink never closes
the sky sings to you
and tells you to wake up
Rip Lazybones Jul 2016
To the reader scroll down to skip: I have been posting from this account since 2012, I think. It is possible that I may delete all of this in the next couple days. I have no static readers, so it won't matter much, and this is not an emotional gofundme with words to stay here. This is just an explanation of choices before me. This is the last place on the earth that I exist. If this goes away, I'm sorry, and I thank you for all the time you spent reading me. Good luck to you all in either direction the wind blows us.

A lot of stuff has been moving for me
People fading and being swept out of my life
Tectonic plates beneath me are sliding apart
Vibrations shakes my bones, then rattle my organs
Tie up as many loose ends as I can
What else can I use to hold to steady
Do I let the maelstrom of inner fire consume me
Do I let clench the earth to keep things together
Do I release my carbonic form into ash to float elsewhere
Do I slide into the depths of the sea with new shackles
Unfortunately coins only have two sides
And I have only one life
That is possibly too few or more than I deserve
Depends on who you ask
All the people I have came across
The wanderers, travelers, lovers, highway men
Minstrels, talking shadows, the shackled, growers of moss
All of them and others that need mentioning
They have no say or choice
I am starting to wander if I do
The scale will tip in one elements favour
Whatever it is, it will be greeted by my coin flip
Rot with dignity or embrace life's next trip
Best part of the result
I am the only one who can read what gravity puts in my hand
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tJa5sxlvsVg
Sam Temple Aug 2015
Looking out across the farm, I am disarmed…
not generally an alarmist,
I am charmed by the sheer magnitude;
Grow two-thousand fifteen stands emerald green in the evening sun
As all 87 girls stretching up and out
as per the scrogg instructions,
some super cropping and a little topping
has forced the crop to the top tier of excellence
in defiance they rely on us, the growers
or tenders of the medicine
but moreover, the sunshine and proper nutrition…
much like a child that needs to be kept safe
and fed healthy,
these babies also crave love and compassion
and, after a fashion, they bequeath these gifts back onto us
in the form of perfect female flowers
flowing freely with the sap
containing chemistry capable of curing cancer
ending seizures
and generally improving the overall quality of life
for the non-abuser.
“Come to Oregon!” I say
as this is the place to be
to freely see what can be
when a few likeminded individuals
join forces and redefine the land
and what it means to be a farmer
and crop tender. –
Marshal Gebbie Feb 2021
Wheresoever went the way
Of Wycheproof's bright Summer day
Way back then, back then when wheat was King
With bountiful supply
You could hear the growers sigh.
As the tills began, abundantly, to ring.

With silos overflowing
And wheat trains ever growing
In Wycheproof, back then,
When wheat was King
With the young girls laughing happy
And the blokes all dressing snappy
Prosperity led Wycheproof, to sing.

But then an apprehension
When this "Climate Change", was mentioned,
Dismissed as merely "here-say" by all,
For "What is now has always been"
With life in Wycheproof, serene,
"What tragedy, could possibly, befall?"

Now Wycheproof is Mallee dry
Where wealthy men complain and cry
When hot northerlies whip topsoil to the wind
As it parachutes a million miles
Which is fine for Wimmera wheatmen's smiles,
Fine and dandy for the growers living there....
But for locals un-empowered,
Watching windblown topsoil scoured,  
There's a seriousness in Wycheproof's despair.

No topsoil means ya can't grow wheat
And the shortened seasons growth, deplete,
Dust storms are primarily....THE FEAR!
Surmount successions mounting debt
And final deadlines... all unmet
Foreclosures ...are chewing up the cheer!

Wycheproof these days is still
No man nor beast on flat or hill,
The shops are looking derelict and closed
And the pub' though selling beer,
Is indisposed and rather queer
For there's no wheat.... and no joy fills the day.
Future's looking bleak
And it's getting hotter, so to speak,
in  Wycheproof ... and ****** all to say.

M.
February 8 2021
As a kid, in the Mallee, I sowed countless filled wheat sacks year after year in the school holidays. Baking hot sun and the dry starchy smell of acres of freshly reaped wheat. Then a bustling wonderland and a great source of pocket money for a kid from the city....Now a drought stricken waste land. Low population, struggling wheat crops prosperity a thing of the past.

A clarion call for the future and the certainty of the calamity of advancing climate change.
M.
Ken Pepiton Mar 2024
A moment's attention to an hour's raw worth.
This is the mind ****** experiment, last try...
back and forth until it breaks,
touch the edge, feel the heat.

On knowing, first taste, it is believed,
mankind's first mother made all mankind,
all from first mother
on to logically, eventually,
us;
You and me,
as we slipt the Matrix and uttered
the first breath wail that clicks the post womb life.

First thought that death ought be feared
has not yet been given the beguilement needed,
to make a slave to the mission revealed by truth's
spirit form, wind form, mind form, time formed point.

Knowledge, forbid my ignorance, but should one,
such as I, not die before my **** hair thins,
to lay bare the scalp that covers holy access
through the window in the top of the skull;

well, then, a certain respect is due me, a love, proof
that my reasonings were honed sharp enough,
early enough to form hooks to hang strands
of fullered fibers of gnosis from.

Prepared stitching thread, twirled intwining line
of reason, plumb weighted to hang straight,

perpindicular, swinging when to when, then
to now, to day from night, to ready after letters
are fitted to let us take thought, while attempting

contemplative temporary causal agency,
mediating meditation's worth versus daydreaming.

--------------
Standard transmission, clutched, loosed,
engaged to catch a spark and start the process

rolling presently from past instances of learning.

Motivational motors of minding one's busyness,
catch a spark mid sequence, in a valved chamber

whooshing to push to shove to pull, and push
to displace and **** and shove to push and roll,

extending any individual's reach, confining
one's attention to inner reasonings, efforting
to steer the convenience compelling consciousness,

paid attention to terminii in reality set by science,
acknowledged used to increase the mobility of our kind,
mind you, promotion demands hands and eyes,
coordinating coy and ardent wills worth observation,
as will to be useful as  arms and necks and nerves
and muscles and ligaments to tie bone frames,
to controls allowing fingers to steer,
as tongues do, as rudders do,

as my will being done may do,
we imagine as children watching adults work wishing.



---------
the efforting, effectual, fervent umph
applied to being useful on the whole,

the efforting made good by limitation
on liberty, free-state of matter, under
gravity and velocity, bound and determined,

to obey the binding force realized in thought,
leveraging aging winding springs force holds,
cogs to stop grinding gears, catchments,
mind hooks with torque converting aspiration

grasping reasons to resist inertial entropic
good enough reasons to sit still and wait.

------

guaged goodness, measured mind width
comprehended, held with thumb and fingers,
in our combined ready writer mind, manipulated

muscle memorial cause confirming, progress
toward our common, shared joy strength

winging lift up from least useful of creatures,
unselfsustainable --nidicolous, nest bound,
bald baby birds, or pre-birds, evolving
into functional forms for use in life
as we, the best form
of life we have conceived.
-----------

We have, behavioral autonomy, only
to the degree, the measured
parental investment, we need to have
and keep hold of having grasped, as
behavior becoming to beings of this kind.

Word smiths, mind adjustment experts,
fed from stacks in libraries so vast, that

now, we know, no mortal mind can hold
half of all we have experimentally proven
good for any word using cluster of us to have

to hold and use to make might be rights.

May might used right take thought, aye, may
be the will to have right use honed to one point,

new known pastless place, farthest edge
of ever after all we think or ask has proven,

patient stasis, waiting is, suffer it to be so now.

Some times and one times,
revisiting the process, producing me
and you, the processors of our realif-ications.

If as a condition,
in an ifery state, sticking to any matter realized;
we think as if one of us thought first, in time passing

now, from then, in your mind, my mind leaves reproof,
constructed to prevent the falling back into doubt,

two heads, four minds, one wind to share
in time passing as when one now meets a then,
when all attention ever once paid this now, turns

this time into a part of ever after all,
as words speak to heart felt conscience use proven
good, clean, pure state of first interest bearing lent
ears, hearing entertaining causing agents taunting troof.

Prove me now, herewith. Have I not filled your lungs,
have I not granted science right use of knowledge needed

to keep your nidicolous naked soul inspired to continue,
sowing kindness, same mindness, ag, agrimental agreement

we think, we thunk,
we thank our lucky stars, time and chance,

taut twang strangs of our hearts and minds, "chu-hoi",

big hugs, evahboty be nice like G.I., open arms
sự đầu hàng

bring before us the machine gunner called Whykill… begin
judgment near the incident, sự kiện, 29-02-01968,

There we was, me and Frenchy and Culpepper or something,
I forget, and now, I'm dead and all you all have are artificial
memorex versions of things I said I was a witness to, as a liar,
-nothin' but a houn'dawgnosis
picking old scents of sense we made in conversations,
so far past the point of no return, that none on the other side,
can contain innocense, livery of consci, where in our uniformity,

protrudes through old time religious linking thinking, wonders if
we might imagine living on in other words, after all's been
said and done… Whykill's dead. Hohlenstein's dead, and I am not.

Can you hear me now? Earth, earth, can you hear me now?
I hear your brother's blood crying out,
what now, this
now,
you know,
all those idle questions, you know? Did you
feel me lie and tell me no, no, man,
you can't do that.

And be not deceived. Single mind dominance, flat
left and correct, right, right, create an ifery wasery when,

then, let us form a means to use this ifery wasery when,
now, let us form
in time as realizable, vision, written plain,

set in new fangled fonts unicoded
common computable convertible
to bits in math-mental fundus corpus us,
beyond infinity through absurdity to us
becoming these thinkable thoughts,
living words all googly translated on demand,
rethinkable, as entertaining shapers of our kinds
of minds, keyed to constant news alerts, looking
for spots on the walls we pass along, hedged betting

this land is Nature's God's land, and this pasture,
green and lush, this leisure time, as advertised,
mine, my last wish
combination running streams of hot and cold water,
memory foam souls in my Adidas, as I did, assume
the role, Balaam's ***, or donkey,
if your public ***** word filter
hides ssscertain ifery essence
as sounds shuffled schitteringshits.
saint's accuser user rights assigned, runs
Phunky muse, ish bin, dasein, by das zeit, okeh
become alright already, done did done, done, indeed,
desired right to design, knowing already
the idea in the seed, was in
the virus first, and some say
long before long now,
in long then when nothing was a thought.
Knowledge was used to expose us all to living words.
Such as =
U can hold, as a mind let be formed
from mere wish it were
so easy
to fall in love, silly, blessedness
sensing mothering wombed men,
led astray with stories as wild as Theresa wannabes can conceive,
barren womb conceptions, dared define this penetralium,
esoteric guts of all sacred oxen processions, announcing
****** births reportedly
become motherless *******, and such
become outcasts, who often as not,
survive and thrive on wilderness.
Day and night, seedtime and harvest.
Learning from wind and sun and water and dirt and stone,
presoil granite, lime
from primordial sealife eons
on eons awaited, according to Devine wedoms
aspiring to some day become those cities of marble long ago
- replicate forming a marble pillar,
- from seaformed life forms turned to stone,
- in the kidneys of the world.

slow sea settle the white cliffs, pile
on pressure from megatons
of solid ice, firming fractious soft muds
at the bottom
of ancient land locked oceans,
frozen, squeezing solidified worths
weights of rainfall reacting first time
to climates constant changing
pulls from lucky stars and
guiding stars and
disintegrating
ancient's land marks, Casa Bonita,
those Bhuda reps
in the basalt, reminding
remember nothing is real,
blank slate, po' preserver of first impressions, lasting
lifetimes in words never given a reader's added weight, but

by a kind of more than once might wish
to ask, effectuality try
proofing insulation umph
opposing imposture syndrome,
with functional Dunning Krueger
inate cognative imbalence, valenced
within the pre pancreatic failure gut neurons bias…
burped bubble perception, whole self tuning
entire being concept, repenting ignorance begging
truth be known, make me unbelieve beloved lies,
other wise
make me
Art
Intuited, as a weform lifeform,
a we of three neuronal territories,
thinkers reading doer's reports from ports far afield, out there

where shapes of things that were some time ago,
can be translated into two dimensions fitting this window,
using these letters whose sense we all may use to think

translate me, the living word reminds the daydreaming monk,
consider really the stars, for number, now, and take that,
knowledge, a ledge on an oblique inleaning facet of us,

and walk along it not looking down
on or as, may be
the we form of one ready
to be reading ready we state,
in a punctuated equilibrium *** *** ***
Drums
Timpanis, Phrigian rhythms boom boom booming,
Zildjians , krashing and rolling into boingingnodes, domes
of dones, tells holding long forgotten legends for a time.

Nineveh, the repentant city, eh,
to the level
of its labor class things, fasted an acceptable fast,
miracle of miracles, the city did not fall, the miracle
of Jonah was that the city changed behavior
to such a degree that the God who had used Jonah,
made him a story in himself, used to glorify truth,
and someday make gourd growers
proud to be shapers if Meerschaum puff clouds,
made him a creature with no comprehension of mercy,
to use him in a great sorting out testing of spirits,
in the great game of the being edge overlapping gains
taken as granted grace, readers rule non readers,
see the images on the wall, hear the actors in the back,

break a leg, bad luck magic insiders hold true good,
encouragement to fret nothing, as a dancer does,
when listing with the breeze through new chance,

on the page, a pause,
a breather taking lax laze lize guessing others wise,

we suspect ourselves of hubris, as if the other wise
reason for the functional faith in goodness is done,

sneezing phase is past, if you've read this far, by now

you are infected, and as you know, knowing too much
can **** a mortal bent to believe an institutionalized PR
Q-code/ begging oppositional support,
for the dam whence the boy pulled his finger and stepped

back to be blown downstream in time to let the last salmon
spawn and bring worth back to the rain always falling,
mainly on the plain,

Habakkuk habit, artistic intuition patterns of stroke, for luck,
let role in lines intending to hold the slightest smile,
thinking I know, this is not the same vale,
this is not the same current, nor same opinion worth a look,
streaming, not rowing, life
at the moment
is a day taken
for daydreaming equivalent
to a koan ridden
to its vanishing point
on the horizontal insistence
of our mutual peculiar leanings off center,

in a phi mark pattern pearling things think through,
doing words a proper spin,
to hit the nail on the head,
pop.
Stop/ now. Taste the pudding,
is there proof now from then?
D'he, ahe he he - didja ever have the ware withal
to make up
your own mind?

-------------
Yes, walk away, daydreaming boy,
location and possession of means,
for deciphering Emperical runes,
put into my craft and trade in
Calabash pipes, seen, but unseen
gourds employed as smoked ****
and fine tobacco investigatory oral
fixations prominent during the nicotine
DNA adaptation,
{took five generations}
from popular pastime
of blowing smoke, after effects
took on global societal ruling lines
of taut strict reasons to keep smoking,
keep on, keepin' on, minding solo scriptura,

in smoke filled rooms whither whole new forms
for holding mental tyranny enough to wage war,
took shape to govern those who must fight for
the cost of power contained
in a concept with kings,
and us, or Gods and men…
opposed to, leaning against, acting
as scaffolding holding old dams destined
soon to break,
"and at that time thy people shall be delivered,
every one that shall be found written
in the book."

Johnstown flood, was a true historical news worthy event,
unlike the name of any person whose name is in a list
of souls departed from the frail shell of mortality,

ready or not.
Fret not, and naught, aye, no thing or thought
Christmas angel say aight, be not afraid of knowing,
good new things to know, whole old truths put to rest.

Here come Jubilee, one last time,
big time, big time revival of the truth conception

creator of the whole shebang.
Biggest to infinitile insignificance, in fancy other words.

But thou, O Daniel,
shut up the words, and seal the book,
to the time of the end:
many shall run to and fro,

Assisting intelligences shall seem as guides,
Michael models will seem like second comings.

in implodelusive spurts… as can be imagined
reviving old lies for new carnal mind tweaks.
Thanks for your patient investment, the cost of your attention ags me on.
pat caldecott Feb 2019
Coffee bean

Live a caffeine life style
Feel a bit flat white
Drinking up your Java
Nothing going right
Off you go to marshals
Coffee quick to go
Can’t stop now for friendship
Got to work you know
Get into the office
Sitting at your place
Don’t you get your lifestyle?
Caffeinate rat race
Always in a hurry
What’s the hurry for
Got to earn a living
Got to get some more
Growers don’t plant poppies
Theirs nothing left to glean
Just dig up the garden
And plant some coffee bean
Geraldine Taylor Jun 2017
Blueberries, bananas, apples that fall

Berries and pears, we love them all

Fresh rainwater, summer heat

The part of plants that we can eat



Inside the fruit, contains the seeds

Found on bushes, grown on trees

Tomato plants, of heights will rise

With soil and compost, fertilise



Seeds we scatter, seeds we sow

All around the world they grow

Celebrate at food events

Cities, countries, continents



Supermarkets, stalls be manned

Frozen, dried, fresh or canned

Varied fruits ripen with time

Fresh fruit salad, shall we dine



A complement of any meal

Fruits to blend and fruits to peel

Expectations to surpass

Blended poured into a glass



Garden fruit and fruit in tins

Daily fibre, vitamins

Large vineyards, where growers take

From tiny buds, to blossomed grape



Strawberry smoothie, raspberry jam

Tomato sandwich, cheese and ham

Assembled fruit upon the plate

Master-chef provide your rate



Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
Universe Poems Oct 2022
Patch
your pumpkin seeds,
given at a time of year,
when the seasons know,
bronze, brown and yellow
are crunching as you go
Damp and wet
Colours alive,
eyes and mind revive
Vines seeds and pumpkin rhymes
Look at me
Rouge Vif d'Etampes
Elegance coolest city,
and towns names around
1600's
French version of the,
Cinderella pumpkin coach created
Even today,
United States seed growers say,
Cinderella pumpkin,
you won't squash at twelve o'clock,
come what may
Rouge Vif d'Etampes
colour, shape and beauty,
Autumn cutie

© 2022 Carol Natasha Diviney
Dr Peter Lim Nov 2017
Writing in HP today from Melbourne

End of spring, hot weather makes its unpleasant appearance--heat will consume Aussies for 3 months. Old people in poor health are vulnerable and some would die--common knowledge. Bush-fire warnings. Black Friday would be long remembered--many were killed and Queen Elizabeth sent her condolences to the mourning nation. A few arsonists caught nearly every year!

The beaches will be crowded--Down Under has wonderful beaches.  Bare-chested females will attract curious eyes of males, especially the young ones'
(I am an old man but casting a look costs nothing and my wife doesn't mind the least--she would say--Your eyes might fall off if you gaze too long!). But I love to look at the kids playing on the beach or dipping their feet in the water.  How avidly do they look for pebbles
and shells!  Mothers' shouting---Kids, don't venture too far--wear your hats! We have the largest incidence of melanoma  Couples rest under coloured umbrellas (the stalls that lease these make good money!)--we are a nation of beer-drinkers and our pubs with history dating to the early 1800's ! Billions spent on grog--we produce great wine (thanks to nature and the pioneer-growers and wine-makers from Europe)--foreign tourists must visit our vine-yards and wineries--they would not regret--great restaurants
exist alongside, mostly owned by the winery-owners.  A$ 50 to 60 pp
starter, main and wine of your choice but sadly no music...

How dreadful is our transportation system! Not the place to discuss this. Sydney has a quick tram to the airport but we poor long-suffering Melburnians  have been left out--yesterday the authorities announced--work will begin within A DECADE--****** off, I would be long dead!  50% of trams to where I live don't have air-con (we use the term Air) and I dread travelling to the city--I don't have a driving-licence--tests are very demanding--one woman took 60 times over 30 years and failed--true story!

Don't wear flowers on your hair when you come to Australia--Aussies aren't romantic people--too frank, abrasive, caustic (not all), with
dry humour, they love to swear, women included, everyone is a mate
(pronounced as MITE), BTW, English is quite out of date here-
we have our own lingo--Stringe....unique in the English-speaking world... Newspaper editors should take English tests-
its (the genitive case) is written it's; in REGARDS** to, spectacular? fire for ferocious--people die in fires--what's so spectacular?
don't know the word schadenfreude?,  forecasted??? (business news),
I shouldn't go own lest I weep....

don't read sonnets to Aussies--don't talk literature or philosophy-
talk about beer, footy, the bets on horses, they dislike the intellectual-
everyone is MITE, FAIR DINKUM, LARRIKIN....

We have a national anthem-ADVANCE AUSTRALIA FAIR with tune that's un-singable and lyrics so bad that you would spew....
Those Olympic winners of ours mumbled when they were expected to sing)
Another national anthem? Have a national poll on a new one?

A Republic without the Queen? But many still adore her...politicians who favour a R. are unhappy.

Why did I come here from another land?  
It's fate--I am a fatalist all through.

Somehow, Down Under has its charms..its quirky features apart.
Made many good friends.

I live the day--I write in HP....I live a very simple life in the eastern suburbs, keep a rose-garden...no rearing of pigs, chooks...
Quarrel with my long-suffering wife about once a week.. it has become a habit but we forget in 5 minutes!

I have little to complain about life in Down Under

11 am, Melb time, 27th Nov

— The End —