"guinea" poems - Hello Poetry

"guinea" poems

627 The Tint I cannot take—is best— The Color too remote That I could show it in Bazaar— A Guinea at a sight— The fine—impalpable Array— That swaggers on the eye Like Cleopatra’s Company— Repeated—in the sky— The Moments of Dominion That happen on the Soul And leave it with a Discontent Too exquisite—to tell— The eager look—on Landscapes— As if they just repressed Some Secret—that was pushing Like Chariots—in the Vest— The Pleading of the Summer— That other Prank—of Snow— That Cushions Mystery with Tulle, For fear the Squirrels—know. Their Graspless manners—mock us— Until the Cheated Eye Shuts arrogantly—in the Grave— Another way—to see—

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18.5k

Emily Dickinson

The Tint I cannot take—is best

627 The Tint I cannot take—is best— The Color too remote That I could show it in Bazaar— A Guinea at a sight— The fine—impalpable Array— That swaggers on the eye Like Cleopatra’s Company— Repeated—in the sky— The Moments of Dominion That happen on the Soul And leave it with a Discontent Too exquisite—to tell— The eager look—on Landscapes— As if they just repressed Some Secret—that was pushing Like Chariots—in the Vest— The Pleading of the Summer— That other Prank—of Snow— That Cushions Mystery with Tulle, For fear the Squirrels—know. Their Graspless manners—mock us— Until the Cheated Eye Shuts arrogantly—in the Grave— Another way—to see—

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Colombia needs hellopoetry Comoros needs hellopoetry Congo, Democratic Republic is in need of hellopoetry Congo, Republic is in need of hellopoetry Costa Rica needs hellopoetry Côte d’Ivoire needs hellopoetry Croatia needs hellopoetry Cuba needs hellopoetry Cyprus needs hellopoetry Czech Republic needs hellopoetry Denmark needs hellopoetry Djibouti needs hellopoetry Dominica needs hellopoetry Dominican Republic needs hellopoetry East Timor (Timor-Leste) needs hellopoetry Ecuador needs hellopoetry Egypt needs hellopoetry El Salvador needs hellopoetry Equatorial Guinea needs hellopoetry Eritrea needs hellopoetry Estonia needs hellopoetry Eswatini needs hellopoetry Ethiopia needs hellopoetry Fiji needs hellopoetry Finland needs hellopoetry France needs hellopoetry Gabon needs hellopoetry The Gambia needs hellopoetry Georgia needs hellopoetry Germany needs hellopoetry Ghana needs hellopoetry Greece needs hellopoetry Grenada needs hellopoetry Guatemala needs hellopoetry Guinea needs 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needs hellopoetry Rwanda needs hellopoetry Saint Kitts and Nevis needs hellopoetry Saint Lucia needs hellopoetry Saint Vincent and the Grenadines needs hellopoetry Samoa needs hellopoetry San Marino needs hellopoetry Sao Tome and Principe needs hellopoetry Saudi Arabia needs hellopoetry Senegal needs hellopoetry Serbia needs hellopoetry Seychelles needs hellopoetry Sierra Leone needs hellopoetry Singapore needs hellopoetry Slovakia needs hellopoetry Slovenia needs hellopoetry Solomon Islands needs hellopoetry Somalia needs hellopoetry South Africa needs hellopoetry Spain needs hellopoetry Sri Lanka needs hellopoetry Sudan needs hellopoetry Sudan, South needs hellopoetry Suriname needs hellopoetry Sweden needs hellopoetry Switzerland needs hellopoetry Syria needs hellopoetry Taiwan needs hellopoetry Tajikistan needs hellopoetry Tanzania needs hellopoetry Thailand needs hellopoetry Togo needs hellopoetry Tonga needs hellopoetry Trinidad and Tobago needs hellopoetry Tunisia needs hellopoetry Turkey needs hellopoetry Turkmenistan needs hellopoetry Tuvalu needs hellopoetry Uganda needs hellopoetry Ukraine needs hellopoetry United Arab Emirates needs hellopoetry United Kingdom needs hellopoetry United States needs hellopoetry Uruguay needs hellopoetry Uzbekistan needs hellopoetry Vanuatu needs hellopoetry Vatican City needs hellopoetry Venezuela needs hellopoetry Vietnam needs hellopoetry Yemen needs hellopoetry Zambia needs hellopoetry Zimbabwe needs hellopoetry

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Dec 21, 2019

Dec 21, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC

The World NEEDS HelloPoetry (Please Make A Contribution.)

Afghanistan needs hellopoetry Albania needs hellopoetry Algeria needs hellopoetry Andorra needs hellopoetry Angola needs hellopoetry Antigua and Barbuda needs hellopoetry Argentina needs hellopoetry Armenia needs hellopoetry Australia needs hellopoetry Austria needs hellopoetry Azerbaijan needs hellopoetry The Bahamas needs hellopoetry Bahrain needs hellopoetry Bangladesh needs hellopoetry Barbados needs hellopoetry Belarus needs hellopoetry Belgium needs hellopoetry Belize needs hellopoetry Benin needs hellopoetry Bhutan needs hellopoetry Bolivia needs hellopoetry Bosnia and Herzegovina needs hellopoetry Botswana needs hellopoetry Brazil needs hellopoetry Brunei needs hellopoetry Bulgaria needs hellopoetry Burkina Faso needs hellopoetry Burundi needs hellopoetry Cabo Verde needs hellopoetry Cambodia needs hellopoetry Cameroon needs hellopoetry Canada needs hellopoetry Central African Republic needs hellopoetry Chad needs hellopoetry Chile needs hellopoetry China needs hellopoetry Colombia needs hellopoetry Comoros needs hellopoetry Congo, Democratic Republic is in need of hellopoetry Congo, Republic is in need of hellopoetry Costa Rica needs hellopoetry Côte d’Ivoire needs hellopoetry Croatia needs hellopoetry Cuba needs hellopoetry Cyprus needs hellopoetry Czech Republic needs hellopoetry Denmark needs hellopoetry Djibouti needs hellopoetry Dominica needs hellopoetry Dominican Republic needs hellopoetry East Timor (Timor-Leste) needs hellopoetry Ecuador needs hellopoetry Egypt needs hellopoetry El Salvador needs hellopoetry Equatorial Guinea needs hellopoetry Eritrea needs hellopoetry Estonia needs hellopoetry Eswatini needs hellopoetry Ethiopia needs hellopoetry Fiji needs hellopoetry Finland needs hellopoetry France needs hellopoetry Gabon needs hellopoetry The Gambia needs hellopoetry Georgia needs hellopoetry Germany needs hellopoetry Ghana needs hellopoetry Greece needs hellopoetry Grenada needs hellopoetry Guatemala needs hellopoetry Guinea needs hellopoetry Guinea-Bissau needs hellopoetry Guyana needs hellopoetry Haiti needs hellopoetry Honduras needs hellopoetry Hungary needs hellopoetry Iceland needs hellopoetry India needs hellopoetry Indonesia needs hellopoetry Iran needs hellopoetry Iraq needs hellopoetry Ireland needs hellopoetry Israel needs hellopoetry Italy needs hellopoetry Jamaica needs hellopoetry Japan needs hellopoetry Jordan needs hellopoetry Kazakhstan needs hellopoetry Kenya needs hellopoetry Kiribati needs hellopoetry Korea, North needs hellopoetry Korea, South needs hellopoetry Kosovo needs hellopoetry Kuwait needs hellopoetry Kyrgyzstan needs hellopoetry Laos needs hellopoetry Latvia needs hellopoetry Lebanon needs hellopoetry Lesotho needs hellopoetry Liberia needs hellopoetry Libya needs hellopoetry Liechtenstein needs hellopoetry Lithuania needs hellopoetry Luxembourg needs hellopoetry Madagascar needs hellopoetry Malawi needs hellopoetry Malaysia needs hellopoetry Maldives needs hellopoetry Mali needs hellopoetry Malta needs hellopoetry Marshall Islands needs hellopoetry Mauritania needs hellopoetry Mauritius needs hellopoetry Mexico needs hellopoetry Micronesia, Federated States is in need of hellopoetry Moldova needs hellopoetry Monaco needs hellopoetry Mongolia needs hellopoetry Montenegro needs hellopoetry Morocco needs hellopoetry Mozambique needs hellopoetry Myanmar (Burma) needs hellopoetry Namibia needs hellopoetry Nauru needs hellopoetry Nepal needs hellopoetry Netherlands needs hellopoetry New Zealand needs hellopoetry Nicaragua needs hellopoetry Niger needs hellopoetry Nigeria needs hellopoetry North Macedonia needs hellopoetry Norway needs hellopoetry Oman needs hellopoetry Pakistan needs hellopoetry Palau needs hellopoetry Panama needs hellopoetry Papua New Guinea needs hellopoetry Paraguay needs hellopoetry Peru needs hellopoetry Philippines needs hellopoetry Poland needs hellopoetry Portugal needs hellopoetry Qatar needs hellopoetry Romania needs hellopoetry Russia needs hellopoetry Rwanda needs hellopoetry Saint Kitts and Nevis needs hellopoetry Saint Lucia needs hellopoetry Saint Vincent and the Grenadines needs hellopoetry Samoa needs hellopoetry San Marino needs hellopoetry Sao Tome and Principe needs hellopoetry Saudi Arabia needs hellopoetry Senegal needs hellopoetry Serbia needs hellopoetry Seychelles needs hellopoetry Sierra Leone needs hellopoetry Singapore needs hellopoetry Slovakia needs hellopoetry Slovenia needs hellopoetry Solomon Islands needs hellopoetry Somalia needs hellopoetry South Africa needs hellopoetry Spain needs hellopoetry Sri Lanka needs hellopoetry Sudan needs hellopoetry Sudan, South needs hellopoetry Suriname needs hellopoetry Sweden needs hellopoetry Switzerland needs hellopoetry Syria needs hellopoetry Taiwan needs hellopoetry Tajikistan needs hellopoetry Tanzania needs hellopoetry Thailand needs hellopoetry Togo needs hellopoetry Tonga needs hellopoetry Trinidad and Tobago needs hellopoetry Tunisia needs hellopoetry Turkey needs hellopoetry Turkmenistan needs hellopoetry Tuvalu needs hellopoetry Uganda needs hellopoetry Ukraine needs hellopoetry United Arab Emirates needs hellopoetry United Kingdom needs hellopoetry United States needs hellopoetry Uruguay needs hellopoetry Uzbekistan needs hellopoetry Vanuatu needs hellopoetry Vatican City needs hellopoetry Venezuela needs hellopoetry Vietnam needs hellopoetry Yemen needs hellopoetry Zambia needs hellopoetry Zimbabwe needs hellopoetry

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I speak the language of God I speak Alleluyah and Amen! I speak a perfect spoken word, The language of poets and gifted men. I speak fluent Norwegian The language of the Norsk. I was born a Liberian. That took time and hard work. I speak sound French The language of French Guinea. I speak it whenever I pray in church, God blessed me there as a refugee. I speak the English Language, The universal language of business. Wall Street used it to do damage, Damages that caused the financial crisis. I speak the hustle language, The one adopted by hustlers. This language I have used to engage, All my challenges and troubles. I speak a special creative language The one spoken by writers and poets. This language is so unique, That it has produced many laureates. #IvanBrooksPoetry© 1/8/2018

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Aug 1, 2018

Aug 1, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC

Vanguard-Poetry23

Poetry Of Languages I Speak

I speak the language of God I speak Alleluyah and Amen! I speak a perfect spoken word, The language of poets and gifted men. I speak fluent Norwegian The language of the Norsk. I was born a Liberian. That took time and hard work. I speak sound French The language of French Guinea. I speak it whenever I pray in church, God blessed me there as a refugee. I speak the English Language, The universal language of business. Wall Street used it to do damage, Damages that caused the financial crisis. I speak the hustle language, The one adopted by hustlers. This language I have used to engage, All my challenges and troubles. I speak a special creative language The one spoken by writers and poets. This language is so unique, That it has produced many laureates. #IvanBrooksPoetry© 1/8/2018

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Shopping outfashioned hunting and gathering, Processed beats fresh, Groceries replaced fruit trees, Malls superceded forests, Churches outnumbered temples, Countries dissolved to territories, Places devolved to areas, Paths broke down into highways, Commodity converted to currency, Laborers submit to machinery, Masters engage in humbug, Apprentices reduced to students, Knowledge downgraded to education, And education is deducted to a show of grades, While schools are the stages, And the corporate world is the bigger runway, With work slumped to employment, Wisdom demoted to profession, Where in jobs are the only future, Careers are the only success, Clicking and pressing buttons are skills, Computers are correspondent to brains, Information refers to news reports, Intelligence means up-to-dateness, Browsing is preferable to reading, Studying is in demand more than learning, Viewing things flashed on screens yields awareness, Transportation is to traveling, As buying is to the three basic needs, And needs embody worldly possessions, Worldly possessions define happiness, Happiness is due to selfishness, Selfishness is traced to the lack of love, The lack of love draws from the lack of faith, Because faith stands for religion, And religion stands for membership, Where politicians are the gods, Celebrities are the preachers, And the preachers are the enemies, While networking is equal to friendship, And connection equates to communication, Experiences require photos, Memories necessitate uploading, Souvenirs can be downloaded, Smartphones are substitute to pets, Gadgets are toys, Holding controllers is playing, Watching TV is exploring the great outdoors, Internet is recreation, And technology is a way of life; While humans are scientists, Nature is a guinea pig, And the earth is a laboratory, Where prices are misidentified for worth, Processes are miscalculated as progress, Impoverishment is confused with improvement, And getting more is mistaken as getting better; And then we wonder why Homes have become houses, Family members have become boarders, Nations are separate species Composed of tired and hungry citizens, Children are monsters Who are biochemically rascals, Teenagers are zombies Whose adventures lead to delinquency, Adults are robots Who just clang when touched, And life is not so simple As how it is said to be.

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Oct 15, 2013

Oct 15, 2013 at 5:40 AM UTC

The Nth Trial-and-error

Shopping outfashioned hunting and gathering, Processed beats fresh, Groceries replaced fruit trees, Malls superceded forests, Churches outnumbered temples, Countries dissolved to territories, Places devolved to areas, Paths broke down into highways, Commodity converted to currency, Laborers submit to machinery, Masters engage in humbug, Apprentices reduced to students, Knowledge downgraded to education, And education is deducted to a show of grades, While schools are the stages, And the corporate world is the bigger runway, With work slumped to employment, Wisdom demoted to profession, Where in jobs are the only future, Careers are the only success, Clicking and pressing buttons are skills, Computers are correspondent to brains, Information refers to news reports, Intelligence means up-to-dateness, Browsing is preferable to reading, Studying is in demand more than learning, Viewing things flashed on screens yields awareness, Transportation is to traveling, As buying is to the three basic needs, And needs embody worldly possessions, Worldly possessions define happiness, Happiness is due to selfishness, Selfishness is traced to the lack of love, The lack of love draws from the lack of faith, Because faith stands for religion, And religion stands for membership, Where politicians are the gods, Celebrities are the preachers, And the preachers are the enemies, While networking is equal to friendship, And connection equates to communication, Experiences require photos, Memories necessitate uploading, Souvenirs can be downloaded, Smartphones are substitute to pets, Gadgets are toys, Holding controllers is playing, Watching TV is exploring the great outdoors, Internet is recreation, And technology is a way of life; While humans are scientists, Nature is a guinea pig, And the earth is a laboratory, Where prices are misidentified for worth, Processes are miscalculated as progress, Impoverishment is confused with improvement, And getting more is mistaken as getting better; And then we wonder why Homes have become houses, Family members have become boarders, Nations are separate species Composed of tired and hungry citizens, Children are monsters Who are biochemically rascals, Teenagers are zombies Whose adventures lead to delinquency, Adults are robots Who just clang when touched, And life is not so simple As how it is said to be.

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Into a place far away but too familiar, I push open the rusty purple gates, Inhale a lungful of the province air, Kick away blue pebbles on the dusty ground, And then Mano my lolo, my tito Beso my lola, my tita And give my cousins a nudge on the arm, A pinch on the cheeks. I squeeze between four people In a rickety wooden bench and Pass around plate after heavy plate. I fill my banana leaf With spaghetti too soft too sweet, Almost like pudding, With crispy chicken dripping with oil. I wash it off with a cool glass of gulaman, Chewy beads and gems in sugary water. Fathers talk about basketball, boxing, billiards; Mothers browse through photo albums and magazines; While we children argue about Superman or Batman. Our laughter fills the humid air And goes up, up, up to the ears of the neighbors. In celebration of the time we have together And a nice sunny day We devour our meals And go ahead and Climb trees and Get our faces sticky with sweet fruits, Lick chocolate ice popsicles, Chase each other in the weedy playground, Bike around town, Pick colorful flowers, Wrestle with each other, Play badminton on a windy day, Scare around chickens and guinea pigs, And play patintero under the dull orange street lamps. We nervously creep inside the back door, All sweaty, bearing bruises and scratches But still with wide smiles on our faces. All is futile though. An angry grandmother awaits, Scolding us for Coming home past sunset. More and more stars glitter the sky As the night gets deeper and deeper. The gentle evening breeze whistles a note As it enters through the window. The karaoke blasts grating voices Interrupted by hearty laughter. Playing cards and corn chips litter the table. We children exchange jokes and ghost stories. And then, We bid our goodbyes, Sharing hugs and kisses Stained with discontent and sadness. Our hearts about to burst In excitement for the next Reunion.

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Nov 8, 2013

Nov 8, 2013 at 3:56 AM UTC

marge-redelicia

Into a place far away but too familiar, I push open the rusty purple gates, Inhale a lungful of the province air, Kick away blue pebbles on the dusty ground, And then Mano my lolo, my tito Beso my lola, my tita And give my cousins a nudge on the arm, A pinch on the cheeks. I squeeze between four people In a rickety wooden bench and Pass around plate after heavy plate. I fill my banana leaf With spaghetti too soft too sweet, Almost like pudding, With crispy chicken dripping with oil. I wash it off with a cool glass of gulaman, Chewy beads and gems in sugary water. Fathers talk about basketball, boxing, billiards; Mothers browse through photo albums and magazines; While we children argue about Superman or Batman. Our laughter fills the humid air And goes up, up, up to the ears of the neighbors. In celebration of the time we have together And a nice sunny day We devour our meals And go ahead and Climb trees and Get our faces sticky with sweet fruits, Lick chocolate ice popsicles, Chase each other in the weedy playground, Bike around town, Pick colorful flowers, Wrestle with each other, Play badminton on a windy day, Scare around chickens and guinea pigs, And play patintero under the dull orange street lamps. We nervously creep inside the back door, All sweaty, bearing bruises and scratches But still with wide smiles on our faces. All is futile though. An angry grandmother awaits, Scolding us for Coming home past sunset. More and more stars glitter the sky As the night gets deeper and deeper. The gentle evening breeze whistles a note As it enters through the window. The karaoke blasts grating voices Interrupted by hearty laughter. Playing cards and corn chips litter the table. We children exchange jokes and ghost stories. And then, We bid our goodbyes, Sharing hugs and kisses Stained with discontent and sadness. Our hearts about to burst In excitement for the next Reunion.

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It was the watermelon diet, he said That's what killed me A lie as ripe as the freshest rind Listen to the man He was there at my deathbed Though he never cared for my diet It was the watermelon diet not some virus That consigned me to the Gods The watermelon diet Why now do they doubt my exotic pallet? They've turned a blind eye to everything else until now For months, I guzzled nothing but sweet watermelon Fat mounds of flesh between my greedy cheeks The sheer volume of water left me bloated Before I shed an immense amount of baggage What else could be to blame? Enough of your questions and on to the cremation We'll see whether watermelon burns immortal It began in Africa- no lie there And comes in seedless varieties I never planted mine Though I wasn't want for trying I can still taste the bitter juices as I lay here in my crypt An artful coroner smelt a rat Or a chance- to prove his mettle Never heard of any watermelon diet This is Palm Springs not Papa Nu Guinea A sample of tissue foiled our grand conspiracy Same thing that got Rock Hudson But they kept a straight face Kept to the story, mindful of my legacy I'm not just any ****** Takes something grand and elaborate to dispose of me An immigrant farmhand once told me “watermelon cure the AIDS” And I believed him At least that's what I'd have you believe End

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Oct 26, 2018

Oct 26, 2018 at 8:52 AM UTC

Watermelon Diet

It was the watermelon diet, he said That's what killed me A lie as ripe as the freshest rind Listen to the man He was there at my deathbed Though he never cared for my diet It was the watermelon diet not some virus That consigned me to the Gods The watermelon diet Why now do they doubt my exotic pallet? They've turned a blind eye to everything else until now For months, I guzzled nothing but sweet watermelon Fat mounds of flesh between my greedy cheeks The sheer volume of water left me bloated Before I shed an immense amount of baggage What else could be to blame? Enough of your questions and on to the cremation We'll see whether watermelon burns immortal It began in Africa- no lie there And comes in seedless varieties I never planted mine Though I wasn't want for trying I can still taste the bitter juices as I lay here in my crypt An artful coroner smelt a rat Or a chance- to prove his mettle Never heard of any watermelon diet This is Palm Springs not Papa Nu Guinea A sample of tissue foiled our grand conspiracy Same thing that got Rock Hudson But they kept a straight face Kept to the story, mindful of my legacy I'm not just any ****** Takes something grand and elaborate to dispose of me An immigrant farmhand once told me “watermelon cure the AIDS” And I believed him At least that's what I'd have you believe End

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Algeria a rich land poor people, Angola seems to have kings, Benin is blessed with voodoo, Botswana blood bulls diamonds, Burkina Faso can't cope coups, Burundi twelve years a slave, Cape Verde has half a million, Cameroon got cocoa, Chad's lake is shrinking, Comoros has under a million, DRC is third largest, Congo is it's neighbour with capitals facing, Côte d'Ivoire has few elephants, Djibouti's on the horn, Egypt has mummy's, Equatorial guinea struck oil in 95 but didn't loose change, Eritrea has 5000 running annually, Ethiopia's great rift is pretty ****** Gabon is subject to black gold, Gambia got a peace of it after 65, Great Ghana oasis of peace, Guinea is diverse, Bissau too, Kenyans have beautiful smiles, Lesotho is SA's baby, Liberia oldest republic, Libya needs liberty, Madagascar where are the penguins! Malawi has warm hearts, Mali is 8th, Mauritania is 11th, Mauritius marvel, Morocco fine leather, Mozambique keeps the dugongs, Namibia Windhoek ah, Niger after a river, Nigeria makes zuma rock, Rwanda listen, Sao tome and principe 2nd smallest, Senegoals, She sells Seychelles, Sierra Leone free? Somalia loose, S. Africa reign, South Sudan independent? Sudan - black, Swaziland more than solo men, Tanzania trade, Togo up down, Two knees yeah, Uganda teacher come simeon, Zambia's peace? Zimbabwe got rid of Mugabe. Always thought zed was co.za but we're actually co.zm, so what's zim? One way we'll loose change is when the overseers begin to acknowledge the under looked. -nyanta

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Feb 8, 2018

Feb 8, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC

Algeria a rich land poor people, Angola seems to have kings, Benin is blessed with voodoo, Botswana blood bulls diamonds, Burkina Faso can't cope coups, Burundi twelve years a slave, Cape Verde has half a million, Cameroon got cocoa, Chad's lake is shrinking, Comoros has under a million, DRC is third largest, Congo is it's neighbour with capitals facing, Côte d'Ivoire has few elephants, Djibouti's on the horn, Egypt has mummy's, Equatorial guinea struck oil in 95 but didn't loose change, Eritrea has 5000 running annually, Ethiopia's great rift is pretty ****** Gabon is subject to black gold, Gambia got a peace of it after 65, Great Ghana oasis of peace, Guinea is diverse, Bissau too, Kenyans have beautiful smiles, Lesotho is SA's baby, Liberia oldest republic, Libya needs liberty, Madagascar where are the penguins! Malawi has warm hearts, Mali is 8th, Mauritania is 11th, Mauritius marvel, Morocco fine leather, Mozambique keeps the dugongs, Namibia Windhoek ah, Niger after a river, Nigeria makes zuma rock, Rwanda listen, Sao tome and principe 2nd smallest, Senegoals, She sells Seychelles, Sierra Leone free? Somalia loose, S. Africa reign, South Sudan independent? Sudan - black, Swaziland more than solo men, Tanzania trade, Togo up down, Two knees yeah, Uganda teacher come simeon, Zambia's peace? Zimbabwe got rid of Mugabe. Always thought zed was co.za but we're actually co.zm, so what's zim? One way we'll loose change is when the overseers begin to acknowledge the under looked. -nyanta

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23 I had a guinea golden— I lost it in the sand— And tho’ the sum was simple And pounds were in the land— Still, had it such a value Unto my frugal eye— That when I could not find it— I sat me down to sigh. I had a crimson Robin— Who sang full many a day But when the woods were painted, He, too, did fly away— Time brought me other Robins— Their ballads were the same— Still, for my missing Troubador I kept the “house at hame.” I had a star in heaven— One “Pleiad” was its name— And when I was not heeding, It wandered from the same. And tho’ the skies are crowded— And all the night ashine— I do not care about it— Since none of them are mine. My story has a moral— I have a missing friend— “Pleiad” its name, and Robin, And guinea in the sand. And when this mournful ditty Accompanied with tear— Shall meet the eye of traitor In country far from here— Grant that repentance solemn May seize upon his mind— And he no consolation Beneath the sun may find.

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4.1k

Emily Dickinson

I had a guinea golden

23 I had a guinea golden— I lost it in the sand— And tho’ the sum was simple And pounds were in the land— Still, had it such a value Unto my frugal eye— That when I could not find it— I sat me down to sigh. I had a crimson Robin— Who sang full many a day But when the woods were painted, He, too, did fly away— Time brought me other Robins— Their ballads were the same— Still, for my missing Troubador I kept the “house at hame.” I had a star in heaven— One “Pleiad” was its name— And when I was not heeding, It wandered from the same. And tho’ the skies are crowded— And all the night ashine— I do not care about it— Since none of them are mine. My story has a moral— I have a missing friend— “Pleiad” its name, and Robin, And guinea in the sand. And when this mournful ditty Accompanied with tear— Shall meet the eye of traitor In country far from here— Grant that repentance solemn May seize upon his mind— And he no consolation Beneath the sun may find.

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Water seeps into my skin so quickly Pruning my little feet within minutes **of soaking in the warm water. ** That's a lie actually- my feet are not little, they are quite adverage for my height but I've always viewed them as too big. I bruise at the lightest of touch And they stay for weeks Everything I eat rips and claws through my body- just to come crashing out moments later That sounds rather graffic doesn't it? And they wonder why I don't eat. The pain in unbelievable So dramatic poems, aren't they? I suppose that's the point though? To e able to exaggerate thoughts without judgment. My body breaking down Screaming with every move Maybe not screaming. That would be strange, wouldn't it? Tiny voice resounding from your pores. **I'm still waiting- waiting for this medication to work. Or for them to say "Let's try this instead. " I really appreciate all doctors, they are amazing. But sometimes I feel like a guinea pig. It's been sixteen years- dont they know what it is yet? I'm tired, so so tired. **A dead battery ** I really am. Getting sick like this completely drains me of every once of energy I have.

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Apr 17, 2014

Apr 17, 2014 at 1:33 AM UTC

A Different Kind of Poem

Water seeps into my skin so quickly Pruning my little feet within minutes **of soaking in the warm water. ** That's a lie actually- my feet are not little, they are quite adverage for my height but I've always viewed them as too big. I bruise at the lightest of touch And they stay for weeks Everything I eat rips and claws through my body- just to come crashing out moments later That sounds rather graffic doesn't it? And they wonder why I don't eat. The pain in unbelievable So dramatic poems, aren't they? I suppose that's the point though? To e able to exaggerate thoughts without judgment. My body breaking down Screaming with every move Maybe not screaming. That would be strange, wouldn't it? Tiny voice resounding from your pores. **I'm still waiting- waiting for this medication to work. Or for them to say "Let's try this instead. " I really appreciate all doctors, they are amazing. But sometimes I feel like a guinea pig. It's been sixteen years- dont they know what it is yet? I'm tired, so so tired. **A dead battery ** I really am. Getting sick like this completely drains me of every once of energy I have.

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Encephalon is the flagitious syndicate target To imprison the saintly and resistant population In the research agenda which is classified We are selected guinea pigs in a nightmare To the unethical secret operations Unknown to many, is the silent suffering Of isolated victims living amongst the community Satellite surveillance includes electromagnetic harassment That burning, thought stealing, control of limbs feeling I was done by the hoary Navy's sonar Poor dolphins washed up Cornwall's beach(1) After sonar echoed in my right lughole Mind control technology has evolved The community are recruited by false propaganda Thats the local police, council, library, not restricted to neighbours Old style Cointelpro is in play Discredited, slanders, and victim blaming Who can we share with but other targets Nobody asked which human is for "use" in trials?

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Jun 24, 2020

Jun 24, 2020 at 10:37 AM UTC

Targeted Individuals Poem

Encephalon is the flagitious syndicate target To imprison the saintly and resistant population In the research agenda which is classified We are selected guinea pigs in a nightmare To the unethical secret operations Unknown to many, is the silent suffering Of isolated victims living amongst the community Satellite surveillance includes electromagnetic harassment That burning, thought stealing, control of limbs feeling I was done by the hoary Navy's sonar Poor dolphins washed up Cornwall's beach(1) After sonar echoed in my right lughole Mind control technology has evolved The community are recruited by false propaganda Thats the local police, council, library, not restricted to neighbours Old style Cointelpro is in play Discredited, slanders, and victim blaming Who can we share with but other targets Nobody asked which human is for "use" in trials?

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There should be a genre of poetry called waste verse tasteless and terse like the khaki pine needles that litter the space underneath your porch. a neglected place, where the broken blue bottles and dew marry in early morning , attended by a congregation of woodchips, beers cans and guinea pig **** dancing easy with the morning breeze, and carried like the currency of an early dreamer's reverie, morning. morning. morning is gluing a teacup together knowing that it will be broken tomorrow. and day by day, the absence in form will grow until that once teacup becomes nothing but empty space, with its base designated in place of the back porch ash tray. when i turned back one day, there was nothing left of its body nothing left of it that i could see but paint dust, a couple of cuts and some blood covered by a bandaid that doesn't stay on because feet sweat a little too much. morning is repetition for comfort but breaking routine is starting to feel more appealing than keeping it, because I know one morning I will wake alone, with a rusted infrastructure and fractured backbone, and have to look upon a screen with thousand texts that read, "there are other fish in the sea" well, **** you, maybe he was my sea. i mean, he is my sea, maybe. there is a genre of waste verse called poetry, and the simple syllogism of it all leaves me reeling. but after i finish my cigarette over the khaki pine needles beneath your porch and go inside, "good morning", i say. "good morning", he said. i cannot remember what was so important just a few moments ago. morning.

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Mar 8, 2013

Mar 8, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC

Variations on Waste Verse (Morning)

There should be a genre of poetry called waste verse tasteless and terse like the khaki pine needles that litter the space underneath your porch. a neglected place, where the broken blue bottles and dew marry in early morning , attended by a congregation of woodchips, beers cans and guinea pig **** dancing easy with the morning breeze, and carried like the currency of an early dreamer's reverie, morning. morning. morning is gluing a teacup together knowing that it will be broken tomorrow. and day by day, the absence in form will grow until that once teacup becomes nothing but empty space, with its base designated in place of the back porch ash tray. when i turned back one day, there was nothing left of its body nothing left of it that i could see but paint dust, a couple of cuts and some blood covered by a bandaid that doesn't stay on because feet sweat a little too much. morning is repetition for comfort but breaking routine is starting to feel more appealing than keeping it, because I know one morning I will wake alone, with a rusted infrastructure and fractured backbone, and have to look upon a screen with thousand texts that read, "there are other fish in the sea" well, **** you, maybe he was my sea. i mean, he is my sea, maybe. there is a genre of waste verse called poetry, and the simple syllogism of it all leaves me reeling. but after i finish my cigarette over the khaki pine needles beneath your porch and go inside, "good morning", i say. "good morning", he said. i cannot remember what was so important just a few moments ago. morning.

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Little bunny was so adored, Little bunny then grew up as Peter Rabbit. Peter Rabbit was so loved, Peter Rabbit now becomes Her guinea pig. Alice was her name, Alice in the Wonderland. Alice liked Peter, but treated the rabbit no better than a mere guinea pig; for her experiment— in her Wonderland.

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Nov 26, 2018

Nov 26, 2018 at 2:46 PM UTC

ShannonSoeganda

Peter Rabbit in Alice’s Wonderland

Little bunny was so adored, Little bunny then grew up as Peter Rabbit. Peter Rabbit was so loved, Peter Rabbit now becomes Her guinea pig. Alice was her name, Alice in the Wonderland. Alice liked Peter, but treated the rabbit no better than a mere guinea pig; for her experiment— in her Wonderland.

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Africa is beautiful and beautiful is usual in Africa Continental wonderland of love this is Africa What's in Africa? What's there to see? I asked myself on the New Year's eve I thought that I was good in geography But I didn't know Lagos or Nairobi I might be ignorant, I have to admit About Africa I knew just a little bit The great Sahara - sands of mystery! The Nile river - so much history! Africa is magical and magical is usual in Africa Continental wonderland of joy this is Africa Namibia, Nigeria, Niger, Angola, Algeria Burundi, Benin and Libya, Lesotho and Liberia Burkina-Faso, Botswana, Guinea-Bissau, Ghana Djibouti, Zimbabwe, Zambia, Uganda, Rwanda, Gambia I saw a film on Serengeti Park A one of a kind, a must-see landmark I watched a documentary on pyramids of Giza They're much much older than Mona Lisa I heard that oldest coffee plants Take their roots in Ethiopia's land And that samba, rumba, funk and jazz Take their beats from African drums Africa is beautiful and beautiful is usual in Africa Continental wonderland of love this is Africa Cameroon and Congo, Malawi, Mali, Morocco Côte d'Ivoire and Kenya, Mauritius, Mauritania Tunisia, Tanzania, Eswatini, Eritrea Sudan, Senegal, Somalia, Sierra Leone, South Sudan You can travel around cities of Africa Like Cape Town, Cairo or Casablanca If you're in love or plan to be Go to Zanzibar, feel that ocean breeze! Climb up mount Kilimanjaro Watch the zebras cross the Masai Mara If you're adventurous, you're a dreamer Take a wild trip down Zambezi river Africa is magical and magical is usual in Africa Continental wonderland of joy this is Africa Comoros, Chad, Cabo Verde, Democratic Republic of Congo Ethiopia, Egypt, Guinea, Gabon, Equatorial Guinea and Togo Madagascar, Mozambique, Central African Republic Sao Tome and Principe, South Africa and Seychelles Africa is beautiful and beautiful is usual in Africa Continental wonderland, I'm on my way to Africa!

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May 3, 2022

May 3, 2022 at 7:33 PM UTC

Africa is Beautiful

Africa is beautiful and beautiful is usual in Africa Continental wonderland of love this is Africa What's in Africa? What's there to see? I asked myself on the New Year's eve I thought that I was good in geography But I didn't know Lagos or Nairobi I might be ignorant, I have to admit About Africa I knew just a little bit The great Sahara - sands of mystery! The Nile river - so much history! Africa is magical and magical is usual in Africa Continental wonderland of joy this is Africa Namibia, Nigeria, Niger, Angola, Algeria Burundi, Benin and Libya, Lesotho and Liberia Burkina-Faso, Botswana, Guinea-Bissau, Ghana Djibouti, Zimbabwe, Zambia, Uganda, Rwanda, Gambia I saw a film on Serengeti Park A one of a kind, a must-see landmark I watched a documentary on pyramids of Giza They're much much older than Mona Lisa I heard that oldest coffee plants Take their roots in Ethiopia's land And that samba, rumba, funk and jazz Take their beats from African drums Africa is beautiful and beautiful is usual in Africa Continental wonderland of love this is Africa Cameroon and Congo, Malawi, Mali, Morocco Côte d'Ivoire and Kenya, Mauritius, Mauritania Tunisia, Tanzania, Eswatini, Eritrea Sudan, Senegal, Somalia, Sierra Leone, South Sudan You can travel around cities of Africa Like Cape Town, Cairo or Casablanca If you're in love or plan to be Go to Zanzibar, feel that ocean breeze! Climb up mount Kilimanjaro Watch the zebras cross the Masai Mara If you're adventurous, you're a dreamer Take a wild trip down Zambezi river Africa is magical and magical is usual in Africa Continental wonderland of joy this is Africa Comoros, Chad, Cabo Verde, Democratic Republic of Congo Ethiopia, Egypt, Guinea, Gabon, Equatorial Guinea and Togo Madagascar, Mozambique, Central African Republic Sao Tome and Principe, South Africa and Seychelles Africa is beautiful and beautiful is usual in Africa Continental wonderland, I'm on my way to Africa!

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The bed is cold when you turn in at night because the frigid winter winds have settled in too and like a fool you left the window open all day You take a dab of speed as the lamp goes dim its the only thing to keep tumescence when you make love to a lover you no longer love ******* is no longer sport, only a chore and the night birds at the window sing a song of sadness beady eyes keeping tabs on the city boy's blues When the day is done the television screeches, unreality television you're so depressed and you have nothing, not even sleep and the cold body beside you snores through the night Even on rare occasions of sleep, you only dream of dying fiery bus brought with peasant's tokens is burning as it flies over some cliff face and you remain stoic Waking only in afternoon sunsets with a sore head and dry mouth stumble down the stairs to an empty kitchen and the cat has **** again you clean the mess and make a sandwich, no topping just butter How many days can pass before you crawl to the shop to buy food and you contemplate suicide as you scrape the tub of butter again falling upstairs in a somber stupor, vomiting after eating She comes home from work and calls it off, packing her bags you roll another joint without words being spoken she closes the door and the already broken window breaks more Smoking on your herbal solitude and preparing the last hit that sweet tender brown in a spoon you found it hits the vein and you feel happiness, first and final time Sitting in some trash-found chair and reading Camus these are the final moments, surely you cannot hold on Abner Jay is playing and you fall asleep forever

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Nov 21, 2013

Nov 21, 2013 at 12:08 PM UTC

People In The Community Don’t Want To Be Guinea Pigs

The bed is cold when you turn in at night because the frigid winter winds have settled in too and like a fool you left the window open all day You take a dab of speed as the lamp goes dim its the only thing to keep tumescence when you make love to a lover you no longer love ******* is no longer sport, only a chore and the night birds at the window sing a song of sadness beady eyes keeping tabs on the city boy's blues When the day is done the television screeches, unreality television you're so depressed and you have nothing, not even sleep and the cold body beside you snores through the night Even on rare occasions of sleep, you only dream of dying fiery bus brought with peasant's tokens is burning as it flies over some cliff face and you remain stoic Waking only in afternoon sunsets with a sore head and dry mouth stumble down the stairs to an empty kitchen and the cat has **** again you clean the mess and make a sandwich, no topping just butter How many days can pass before you crawl to the shop to buy food and you contemplate suicide as you scrape the tub of butter again falling upstairs in a somber stupor, vomiting after eating She comes home from work and calls it off, packing her bags you roll another joint without words being spoken she closes the door and the already broken window breaks more Smoking on your herbal solitude and preparing the last hit that sweet tender brown in a spoon you found it hits the vein and you feel happiness, first and final time Sitting in some trash-found chair and reading Camus these are the final moments, surely you cannot hold on Abner Jay is playing and you fall asleep forever

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Is there, for honest poverty, That hings his head, an’ a’ that? The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a’ that! For a’ that, an’ a’ that, Our toils obscure, an’ a’ that; The rank is but the guinea’s stamp; The man’s the gowd for a’ that, What tho’ on hamely fare we dine, Wear hoddin-gray, an’ a’ that; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man’s a man for a’ that. For a’ that, an’ a’ that, Their tinsel show an’ a’ that; The honest man, tho’ e’er sae poor, Is king o’ men for a’ that. Ye see yon birkie, ca’d a lord Wha struts, an’ stares, an’ a’ that; Tho’ hundreds worship at his word, He’s but a coof for a’ that: For a’ that, an’ a’ that, His riband, star, an’ a’ that, The man o’ independent mind, He looks and laughs at a’ that. A prince can mak a belted knight, A marquis, duke, an’ a’ that; But an honest man’s aboon his might, Guid faith he mauna fa’ that! For a’ that, an’ a’ that, Their dignities, an’ a’ that, The pith o’ sense, an’ pride o’ worth, Are higher rank than a’ that. Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a’ that, That sense and worth, o’er a’ the earth, May bear the gree, an’ a’ that. For a’ that, an’ a’ that, It’s coming yet, for a’ that, That man to man, the warld o’er, Shall brothers be for a’ that.

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2.6k

For A’ That And A’ That

Is there, for honest poverty, That hings his head, an’ a’ that? The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a’ that! For a’ that, an’ a’ that, Our toils obscure, an’ a’ that; The rank is but the guinea’s stamp; The man’s the gowd for a’ that, What tho’ on hamely fare we dine, Wear hoddin-gray, an’ a’ that; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man’s a man for a’ that. For a’ that, an’ a’ that, Their tinsel show an’ a’ that; The honest man, tho’ e’er sae poor, Is king o’ men for a’ that. Ye see yon birkie, ca’d a lord Wha struts, an’ stares, an’ a’ that; Tho’ hundreds worship at his word, He’s but a coof for a’ that: For a’ that, an’ a’ that, His riband, star, an’ a’ that, The man o’ independent mind, He looks and laughs at a’ that. A prince can mak a belted knight, A marquis, duke, an’ a’ that; But an honest man’s aboon his might, Guid faith he mauna fa’ that! For a’ that, an’ a’ that, Their dignities, an’ a’ that, The pith o’ sense, an’ pride o’ worth, Are higher rank than a’ that. Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a’ that, That sense and worth, o’er a’ the earth, May bear the gree, an’ a’ that. For a’ that, an’ a’ that, It’s coming yet, for a’ that, That man to man, the warld o’er, Shall brothers be for a’ that.

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O Babylon! Your God is a sport-utility vehicle, a VCR, and a two-car garage! You delight in images of killing and artificially-large-breasted women! Your arteries are clogged with Big Macs and a thousand pieces of Kentucky-Fried Chicken! Your God is Technology. Your God is Progress. Your skyscrapers rise to the heavens! Your astronauts fly to the moon! You clone sheep! alter genes! make a mountain into a parking lot! Your fields flower! Your grain-bins groan under the weight of the ripe corn! But the land of your soul is a desolation. O God of Henry Ford, the Wright Brothers, and Bill Gates,... All the nations adore Thee! (Pretty soon they'll be ordering Papa John pizza by cell phone in New Guinea....) Your God is Mammon. After the movies, after the Quarter-pounders-with-cheese, super-size fries, and a large Coke, after the evening news, the Hostess cupcakes, golf, beers, and swimming 20 laps, the hunger will be the same as the day you first felt it, O Babylon! the thirst of the soul, O Babylon!

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Aug 1, 2017

Aug 1, 2017 at 2:24 PM UTC

O Babylon! Your God is a sport-utility vehicle, a VCR, and a two-car garage! You delight in images of killing and artificially-large-breasted women! Your arteries are clogged with Big Macs and a thousand pieces of Kentucky-Fried Chicken! Your God is Technology. Your God is Progress. Your skyscrapers rise to the heavens! Your astronauts fly to the moon! You clone sheep! alter genes! make a mountain into a parking lot! Your fields flower! Your grain-bins groan under the weight of the ripe corn! But the land of your soul is a desolation. O God of Henry Ford, the Wright Brothers, and Bill Gates,... All the nations adore Thee! (Pretty soon they'll be ordering Papa John pizza by cell phone in New Guinea....) Your God is Mammon. After the movies, after the Quarter-pounders-with-cheese, super-size fries, and a large Coke, after the evening news, the Hostess cupcakes, golf, beers, and swimming 20 laps, the hunger will be the same as the day you first felt it, O Babylon! the thirst of the soul, O Babylon!

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Cried the navy-blue ghost Of Mr. Belaker The allegro ***** cocktail-shaker, "Why did the **** crow, Why am I lost, Down the endless road to Infinity toss'd? The tropical leaves are whispering white As water; I race the wind in my flight. The white lace houses are carried away By the tide; far out they float and sway. White is the nursemaid on the parade. Is she real, as she flirts with me unafraid? I raced through the leaves as white as water... Ghostly, flowed over the nursemaid, caught her, Left her...edging the far-off sand Is the foam of the sirens' Metropole and Grand; And along the parade I am blown and lost, Down the endless road to Infinity toss'd. The guinea-fowl-plumaged houses sleep... On one, I saw the lone grass weep, Where only the whimpering greyhound wind Chased me, raced me, for what it could find." And there in the black and furry boughs How slowly, coldly, old Time grows, Where the pigeons smelling of gingerbread, And the spectacled owls so deeply read, And the sweet ring-doves of curded milk Watch the Infanta's gown of silk In the ghost-room tall where the governante Gesticulates lente and walks andante. 'Madam, Princesses must be obedient; For a medicine now becomes expedient-- Of five ingredients--a diapente, Said the governante, fading lente... In at the window then looked he, The navy-blue ghost of Mr. Belaker, The allegro ***** cocktail-shaker-- And his flattened face like the moon saw she-- Rhinoceros-black (a flowing sea!).

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2.2k

Dame Edith Sitwell

Four in the Morning

Cried the navy-blue ghost Of Mr. Belaker The allegro ***** cocktail-shaker, "Why did the **** crow, Why am I lost, Down the endless road to Infinity toss'd? The tropical leaves are whispering white As water; I race the wind in my flight. The white lace houses are carried away By the tide; far out they float and sway. White is the nursemaid on the parade. Is she real, as she flirts with me unafraid? I raced through the leaves as white as water... Ghostly, flowed over the nursemaid, caught her, Left her...edging the far-off sand Is the foam of the sirens' Metropole and Grand; And along the parade I am blown and lost, Down the endless road to Infinity toss'd. The guinea-fowl-plumaged houses sleep... On one, I saw the lone grass weep, Where only the whimpering greyhound wind Chased me, raced me, for what it could find." And there in the black and furry boughs How slowly, coldly, old Time grows, Where the pigeons smelling of gingerbread, And the spectacled owls so deeply read, And the sweet ring-doves of curded milk Watch the Infanta's gown of silk In the ghost-room tall where the governante Gesticulates lente and walks andante. 'Madam, Princesses must be obedient; For a medicine now becomes expedient-- Of five ingredients--a diapente, Said the governante, fading lente... In at the window then looked he, The navy-blue ghost of Mr. Belaker, The allegro ***** cocktail-shaker-- And his flattened face like the moon saw she-- Rhinoceros-black (a flowing sea!).

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651 So much Summer Me for showing Illegitimate— Would a Smile’s minute bestowing Too exorbitant To the Lady With the Guinea Look—if She should know Crumb of Mine A Robin’s Larder Would suffice to stow—

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2.1k

Emily Dickinson

651 So much Summer Me for showing Illegitimate— Would a Smile’s minute bestowing Too exorbitant To the Lady With the Guinea Look—if She should know Crumb of Mine A Robin’s Larder Would suffice to stow—

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As you attempt to pour more political doctrine down my throat I check the change in my pocket for the laxative I‘ll have to buy from my legal drug dealer REALLY!?! Did you not know that your words are; indigestible, incorrigible & wholly corruptible? How do you manage to politically caress your own eardrums reach through your sinuses, tickling the lining of your esophagus and yet, make me cough?! Your response to truth is truly painful, you feel it in your chest, your ***** heaves and razes you have a fit gesticulating policies flipping birds that won’t fly It’s too late! Mr "I went to Oxford so I must have the plan" Mr Self-Interest man Mr Ivy-league, Whitehouse, Whitehall...."Cambridge was better", Mr I can do all things that superman can. Mr “If we win the elections next year”... Man Take your leave, your term is over, School is out & the old boys no longer love you. Time! to run for cover, under the colour, of your favoured currency umbrella. But If you’re African "it's okay" you can stay a little while longer and bequeath the throne to your brothers', sisters', uncles', sons' junior brother! Turn it into a dy-nasty Bring on board; Kwadjo, Mary, Abena, Kwesi, Uncle Nepa, Sista Tism & Aunt Ivy. Ah-Geee!!! This nonsense is highly unpalatable I’m past the word puke my bile sack is empty because your drunkenness is spreading & **y o u’r e s t i l l b l o w i n g m e f u m e s!** *Your democracy has made your Guinea-Pigs demi crazy, has captured this poets’ goat Slaughtered it & mandated this verbal frenzy* Enough! Of this alcoholic experiment I’m not drinking anymore, I’ve cried blood! and now "my eyes are red" Looking forward to being 'tee-totally' sober, while U **c o n t e m p l a t e t h i s v e r s e o f p o e t i c, p o l i t i c a l, M U R D E R.** © Qwey.ku

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May 6, 2014

May 6, 2014 at 4:01 AM UTC

SOBER (VERBAL FRENZY)

As you attempt to pour more political doctrine down my throat I check the change in my pocket for the laxative I‘ll have to buy from my legal drug dealer REALLY!?! Did you not know that your words are; indigestible, incorrigible & wholly corruptible? How do you manage to politically caress your own eardrums reach through your sinuses, tickling the lining of your esophagus and yet, make me cough?! Your response to truth is truly painful, you feel it in your chest, your ***** heaves and razes you have a fit gesticulating policies flipping birds that won’t fly It’s too late! Mr "I went to Oxford so I must have the plan" Mr Self-Interest man Mr Ivy-league, Whitehouse, Whitehall...."Cambridge was better", Mr I can do all things that superman can. Mr “If we win the elections next year”... Man Take your leave, your term is over, School is out & the old boys no longer love you. Time! to run for cover, under the colour, of your favoured currency umbrella. But If you’re African "it's okay" you can stay a little while longer and bequeath the throne to your brothers', sisters', uncles', sons' junior brother! Turn it into a dy-nasty Bring on board; Kwadjo, Mary, Abena, Kwesi, Uncle Nepa, Sista Tism & Aunt Ivy. Ah-Geee!!! This nonsense is highly unpalatable I’m past the word puke my bile sack is empty because your drunkenness is spreading & **y o u’r e s t i l l b l o w i n g m e f u m e s!** *Your democracy has made your Guinea-Pigs demi crazy, has captured this poets’ goat Slaughtered it & mandated this verbal frenzy* Enough! Of this alcoholic experiment I’m not drinking anymore, I’ve cried blood! and now "my eyes are red" Looking forward to being 'tee-totally' sober, while U **c o n t e m p l a t e t h i s v e r s e o f p o e t i c, p o l i t i c a l, M U R D E R.** © Qwey.ku

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By: Cedric McClester Tell ‘em how you feel Keep it real Ya know the deal Never mind mass appeal Man your battle station Get in formation Tell the nation You’re losing patience The Black Panthers Wanted answers Now exotic dancers Take their stances And behold They broke the mold When the story was told At the Super Bowl Gimme, gimme That shake and shimmy Hotter than a chimney In Papua New Guinea Cuz no judgment’s passed When you just shake that *** Instead they raise a glass And give you a free pass Now they dissect you Take it to the press too Then refuse to protect you FOI to the rescue Long as you speak your mind They can be unkind But they can’t take your shine Beyonce it’s your time Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016. All rights reserved.

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Feb 23, 2016

Feb 23, 2016 at 7:49 AM UTC

cedric-mcclester

BEYONCE IT'S YOUR TIME (TELL 'EM HOW YOU FEEL)

By: Cedric McClester Tell ‘em how you feel Keep it real Ya know the deal Never mind mass appeal Man your battle station Get in formation Tell the nation You’re losing patience The Black Panthers Wanted answers Now exotic dancers Take their stances And behold They broke the mold When the story was told At the Super Bowl Gimme, gimme That shake and shimmy Hotter than a chimney In Papua New Guinea Cuz no judgment’s passed When you just shake that *** Instead they raise a glass And give you a free pass Now they dissect you Take it to the press too Then refuse to protect you FOI to the rescue Long as you speak your mind They can be unkind But they can’t take your shine Beyonce it’s your time Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016. All rights reserved.

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I'm looking for some puppy love. Some kitten, gerbil, guinea pig love. Any kind of unconditional love, really. I'm looking for a place to rest. Or to recharge, reboot, recoup myself. A place to regenerate my heart, really. I'm looking for propinquity, Or amity, ardency, affinity for another. A form of uncomplicated connection, really. I'm looking for something else. Something different, unusual, extraordinary. Anything, anyone but you, really.

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Sep 6, 2010

Sep 6, 2010 at 9:47 AM UTC

What I'm Looking For

I'm looking for some puppy love. Some kitten, gerbil, guinea pig love. Any kind of unconditional love, really. I'm looking for a place to rest. Or to recharge, reboot, recoup myself. A place to regenerate my heart, really. I'm looking for propinquity, Or amity, ardency, affinity for another. A form of uncomplicated connection, really. I'm looking for something else. Something different, unusual, extraordinary. Anything, anyone but you, really.

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Well Alice looked in the cookbook for a new dish The night before, it became her wish But what could Alice prepare However, I offer a word of caution in beware Alice found a dish to serve her guest If anything, find a good restaurant that should be the request The cookbook with Stuffed Rice and Chicken The name sounds worth eating However, I just saw the chicken dash out the door I guess the chicken felt I he will not be anybody’s guinea pig to explore So that was his chance to run out and ignore This was something the chicken couldn’t take anymore Alice may have to serve the guest toast But I can assure you the guest will have a lot to boast Perhaps word of mouth being coast to coast A cookbook is something one creates But not eat at your own risk and discover why you were sick from what you ate This is your time to make a quick exit before it is too late Excuse yourself and perhaps reschedule another date But that would require you to participate But the best thought is run for your life Don’t even wait to get advice You don’t want to know what else could possibly be left in the kitchen A dish being an unknown that no one seems to want to eat It’s like a competition, but in this case, no one wants to compete So Wendy’s said, “Drop in and have a Hamburger” Yet eat while you can As for a cookbook dish, don’t eat until when At this point, I have reached my end.

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Oct 9, 2016

Oct 9, 2016 at 11:40 AM UTC

preservationman

A COOKBOOK RECIPE GONE WRONG

Well Alice looked in the cookbook for a new dish The night before, it became her wish But what could Alice prepare However, I offer a word of caution in beware Alice found a dish to serve her guest If anything, find a good restaurant that should be the request The cookbook with Stuffed Rice and Chicken The name sounds worth eating However, I just saw the chicken dash out the door I guess the chicken felt I he will not be anybody’s guinea pig to explore So that was his chance to run out and ignore This was something the chicken couldn’t take anymore Alice may have to serve the guest toast But I can assure you the guest will have a lot to boast Perhaps word of mouth being coast to coast A cookbook is something one creates But not eat at your own risk and discover why you were sick from what you ate This is your time to make a quick exit before it is too late Excuse yourself and perhaps reschedule another date But that would require you to participate But the best thought is run for your life Don’t even wait to get advice You don’t want to know what else could possibly be left in the kitchen A dish being an unknown that no one seems to want to eat It’s like a competition, but in this case, no one wants to compete So Wendy’s said, “Drop in and have a Hamburger” Yet eat while you can As for a cookbook dish, don’t eat until when At this point, I have reached my end.

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There’s a rooster that runs around trying to **** every hen, goose, guinea, and sometimes Super Dave Osborne will even make a pass at a close-enough finch. Occasionally Super Dave ****** off the Rhode Island Red. Red measures twice the height and weight of Super Dave Osborne.

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Nov 18, 2011

Nov 18, 2011 at 8:37 PM UTC

Super Dave Osborne

There’s a rooster that runs around trying to **** every hen, goose, guinea, and sometimes Super Dave Osborne will even make a pass at a close-enough finch. Occasionally Super Dave ****** off the Rhode Island Red. Red measures twice the height and weight of Super Dave Osborne.

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Hold up with that block chain conflicted economy keep up the complaints gain Fall in line with wannabes Situate yourself into a failing position Cross the line of chance and miracles without decision Are you listening to the rhythm or are you trying to glisten on Shining blindin yourself and everyone you’re walk-in on Hold a second crazy cuz I’m busy for your hazy mess Crowded in my head but world is filled with emptiness Glamour baby Watch out Tear at the game Hear them shout Test my circuits Freak out Sparkin in your eyes Get down I’m searching for equality, but let me play don’t bother me Addicted to the gifted that you try to clone in quantity Sober up while gettin lit Fill our cup don’t ever quit Seeking self control inside of every little hit Spare the change Stay the same It’s a **** shame We’re all insane Can’t contain Past remains Thinking that we like the pain Universal consciousness Never kiss Heavens bliss Shake the earth with every moment captivated by a wish Cold and calculated marketed discrimination Switch the station work do wages go through phases different stages Visitation rights to our ancestors blight Fuel fire engaged engines blast and burn it bright Out of sight Out of energy Not quite, close so let it be Do you feel me Come fair to be free work the weight til they bury me Commemorate the warriors, fighting behind enemy lines, with idols and worshippers for a war designed to ruin all sides Guinea pigs Flipping tricks Scary that we handle bricks Galactic motivation cuz they know there’s something more than this Space it out Dimension strong Definitive in guessing the irony of being wrong Template made Run the track Tie shoes or you may never come back Lock and load Here we go Infinity Now end this show

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Mar 11, 2019

Mar 11, 2019 at 1:25 PM UTC

shane-bruter-engisch

Keep Up With Me Society

Hold up with that block chain conflicted economy keep up the complaints gain Fall in line with wannabes Situate yourself into a failing position Cross the line of chance and miracles without decision Are you listening to the rhythm or are you trying to glisten on Shining blindin yourself and everyone you’re walk-in on Hold a second crazy cuz I’m busy for your hazy mess Crowded in my head but world is filled with emptiness Glamour baby Watch out Tear at the game Hear them shout Test my circuits Freak out Sparkin in your eyes Get down I’m searching for equality, but let me play don’t bother me Addicted to the gifted that you try to clone in quantity Sober up while gettin lit Fill our cup don’t ever quit Seeking self control inside of every little hit Spare the change Stay the same It’s a **** shame We’re all insane Can’t contain Past remains Thinking that we like the pain Universal consciousness Never kiss Heavens bliss Shake the earth with every moment captivated by a wish Cold and calculated marketed discrimination Switch the station work do wages go through phases different stages Visitation rights to our ancestors blight Fuel fire engaged engines blast and burn it bright Out of sight Out of energy Not quite, close so let it be Do you feel me Come fair to be free work the weight til they bury me Commemorate the warriors, fighting behind enemy lines, with idols and worshippers for a war designed to ruin all sides Guinea pigs Flipping tricks Scary that we handle bricks Galactic motivation cuz they know there’s something more than this Space it out Dimension strong Definitive in guessing the irony of being wrong Template made Run the track Tie shoes or you may never come back Lock and load Here we go Infinity Now end this show

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naturally, after we leave, everything seems to get better. not that we took it for granted no, really, we didn't. we were: test subjects guinea pigs a band of misfits searching for the positive yet somehow remaining apathetic. I somehow expected you to be like us a little less caring a little less bothered that's what I expected, not this.. subdued insecurity manifested in your eyes they keep darting around looking for answers in a scallop or in the bottom of a coffee cup silence where you should be laughing sits hanging heavily on your shoulders, making your natural slouch even worse ...I wonder if you noticed that your eyes are getting bluer we learned once in english class that films use blue to represent anxiety that the churning sea is symbolic of a churning mind we never learned that you can spot that in a man so lost in his worry that he can't see ...his eyes are getting bluer.

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Jan 30, 2014

Jan 30, 2014 at 3:09 AM UTC

naturally, after we leave, everything seems to get better. not that we took it for granted no, really, we didn't. we were: test subjects guinea pigs a band of misfits searching for the positive yet somehow remaining apathetic. I somehow expected you to be like us a little less caring a little less bothered that's what I expected, not this.. subdued insecurity manifested in your eyes they keep darting around looking for answers in a scallop or in the bottom of a coffee cup silence where you should be laughing sits hanging heavily on your shoulders, making your natural slouch even worse ...I wonder if you noticed that your eyes are getting bluer we learned once in english class that films use blue to represent anxiety that the churning sea is symbolic of a churning mind we never learned that you can spot that in a man so lost in his worry that he can't see ...his eyes are getting bluer.

Continue reading...