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matt d mattson Aug 2013
When I saw her
The first woman with the first wide eyes
Bright and light and dark and deep
With life and mystery
My heart beat like the first hand struck the first drum
And the first song was sung
In dark caves of ten times ten thousand years ago

When I first breathed that first scent
My sight stopped
My mind stopped
My mind was my body and my hands and my gut
And my legs extending to the ground and the earth and time
And it slowed down like an ice age beginning
Then it melted into warm fire
Where it burned

The first touch of the first woman
Was electrical chemical radioactive bliss
Every piece of matter in me wanted to move and dance and shake and fly apart
The spark from the start of her heart beat
Crossed through the fibers and
Traveled down the pathways of her body
Down the chemical electric synapses
Through her arm and jumped across to my hand
And traveled up and started a new beat
It was a faster, and stronger beat
And it beat
And it beat
Like the first dance,
Shook with the slap and smack of ground and hands and feet

Oh the first woman was all women
And then there were other women
And they were people
Flesh and blood
And minds and thoughts
And feelings that I could not feel
Good and bad and indifferent
With hangups and problems
Blemishes and baggage
I met women coming
Women going
Here and there
Now and then
For coffee, for beer,
One evening or ten
I met scientists, nurses
bartenders and baristas.
Living lives I didn't mind
Giving time when it was mine
Asking for things I couldn't find

Then I saw You
All of you
In time and space and speed

I caught the scent of you
Your fragrance and perfume
And the primal musk of you
That fatal lusts allure

I felt you
The gravity of your body from across the room
Your electro-magnetic force pulling
Pressure of the displaced particles pushing
As you walked so slowly towards me

And time stopped
Light and sound and movement were captured
Captive to your hypnotic sway
Prisoner to your power over my perception
You moved through the still air
And it swept aside like a curtain as you passed
The world was quiet

And then it pounded  
The pressure of it filled the air and everything around it
As you moved closer,
Like ride of the Valkyries
Rising and crashing in waves
It rose as you moved towards me
You carried it in your wake
And then it was a crescendo
A vast overpowering transcendent orchestral cacophony
Of immense intense sound and light and energy erupting
Cymbals crashed and horns blew and strings snapped under the pressure of the vibrations
Brilliant fireworks exploded in the black sky of your brown eyes
As you stopped a few feet from me

And time was stopped
You were the first woman
You were all women
You are
The only woman
mark john junor Oct 2013
vapour locked
her vacant eyes looking
up at the falling stars
at the laughing cowgirl riding a
rocket to the moon
a hero to her generation
a pin up girl flashing a bit of skin
but the intent is betrayed by the feeling
that this endless road has consequences

she wanders the shopping mall of our world
with a loose credit card
as her only symbol of belonging
as her only connection to humanity
guard your purchases against theft
guard your heart against pilfering
but she just looks through you with
a dazzled distraction
that defies definition
she's happier there than most of us
are here

a white picket fence
surrounds the ruins that she picks through
the rubble of her thoughts in a scattered pile
while the tatters of her former life
now decorate the walls of a fools parade
now is the poster child of the loosing war
but she endures the winter rain
and stacks the broken bricks of her former world
neatly into the categories she was shown
as a child
and that's all she wants to return to
the innocence of childhood
no complexity's  
no hangups

vapour locked into the
moment she escaped all the things
she thought
and the things she almost but not quit felt
when her man came round
trying to convince herself that
if she fakes it long enough
she be happy someday
playin the housewife and mother
playin the well adjusted and smiling face
she has plastered on every morning for twenty two years

but in her heart
she's with that cowgirl
riding rocket to the moon
and kissing all the girls
kissing all the girls
then she'd be happy
and in her heart she knows it
so why is she lingering here ill never know
ill never know
Evening Ways Apr 2014
Have we yet captured the schemes of our misfortune
A solace granted to us, picketed by our tedious hangups
Oh lost have we been
Wondering the labyrinths halls

Each time we find our steps take us no further
Our stagger is broken
By a light projecting life outside the hallways walls
While envy flaunts it's final solutions
In loo of a future we are attempting to grasp
Our steps move us further once again

Now, just as forgotten times before
Do I see that the peaces of our scheme
Are collected gradually over time
and my mind is the cage for their housing

The fragments are fluid and known
To our past selves on a distant day
But now I live life again from a stance of their recall
While at the same time tempted
To step back to the labyrinths halls
John Stevens Nov 2011
Tony and Gpa were driving down Blue Lakes when they were approaching a construction site. The work had been going on for some time but today it was really a mess. Tony said, “why do they make such a mess of the ground grandpa? It looks really bad.” Inspiration hit me. Relate this messy lot to life.

“Sometimes things have to look really bad before it can be make into something beautiful and useful. A piece of canvas can be laying around for years, *****, a mess and then someone picks it up, cleans it off to discover it will work perfectly for a painting. The spots are covered and the artist begins the first brush strokes. Soon, what was ***** and no value to anyone becomes a wonderful work of art by the masters hand. ”

“It is much like people. They can be ***** and broken, look a mess because of drug use, not living right.”

“God can pick them up, clean them off and begin painting a beautiful picture. Where once was a disaster now it beauty.

Granted, the above is a little more but not much more, than what gpa said to Tony that day. The italic was added when gpa wrote this.

Anger, envy, strife, and unforgiveness ( your choice here) can soil the canvas of life. Words said in anger can never be taken back. All the other hurts and hangups in life can dissolve into the background when forgiveness is granted and accepted.

Forgiveness can cover many a stain and when the light reflects off our picture only the beauty of forgiveness reaches out to others. I know many forgiven people. Beautiful people.
Nov. 15, 2011   If you have read "Ice Cream" you may know the where this comes from.
la cazadora Apr 2013
Just a few hangups last night
Couple missteps here & there
none too noticeable, I believe
sealed stayed my lips
for the most part, of course.
I'm not one of those
polite pleasers, you know.
Gets me in trouble sometimes.

"Negativism!" she yelled
out all of a sudden.
I didn't know that was
the tail end of a line
directed toward me.
Quiet, patient, hard-working
shy, innocent, little rosebud
He'd never heard me laugh like that, though.
What a thing to hide away!
It'd never occurred to me
and it's still hard for me to find it
these days
But it's not because I'm trying to listen to the teacher anymore.
No
It's because I'm too preoccupied
with ____
I awake, anxious
Thoughts coursing through my mind
Not always the same ones but
The end result
relativizes them anyway

It's the popping up
the seizure of the pen
the enabling of the ink to flow
the willing.
Because I am my own creator
He breathes into me, but
If I don't sit up I will only melt
Maybe he knows it all already
If he didn't I guess he wouldn't be infinite.
But that's no reason
To let the sheets and bones and sinews
become one.
Let those mirrors shift.
Let the motions flow,
the actions build momentum.
What else can I do?
Death won't let me down.
It's loyaler than
that golden puppy-turned-beast
whose "wanton moan" I'll never forget

Even she knew
that this life
doesn't last forever.
Jacob Oates Jun 2014
I think what really kills me

is to see a guy pour out his guts

about how hard his life is

how committed to the struggle he is

and how much conviction he has

(with his daddy's trust fund)

I could really learn to get behind his success

if I just ignored that he's a rich man's son

I grew up poor, I grew up brown

so I'm Mr "What a big ******" when my thoughts came out

about how I have hopes for a brighter tomorrow

or that life's too short, we're on a track that we borrow

So now I hear succinctly that there's guys who say distinctly

How they're fed up with the system and they hate the gender binary

They're enlightened, in the know, and they're really having fun

Because this **** is easy when you're a rich man's son.

Oh, so I grew up in a small town

A suburban uncultured brown, public school GPA high

That's nice, I like how they let things slide for you guys

getting high, dealing dope, chilling with weirdos

and not the weirdos you know, the kind with emotional, physical, and ****** hangups

and not "wee we're so ******* different"

Because we never got praise, we only worked with a backdrop

Hoping maybe someday we'd get the key to the padlock

But it doesn't matter you say, there ain't a place left to run

Because it's easy not to care when you're a rich man's son

It's always the ones with power, the one's who hold royal flushes

Who say "money can't help you, I feel so out of touch with"

all the nature that I have the money to afford to go visit on a whim

Because the world is an oyster that I have yet to sink in

While I'm hoping for you, you get the point when it's done

That not everyone gets the chance to emote like the rich man's son

I built my kingdom from my grit; I'm not a rich man's son

I learned that no one gives a ****; I'm not a rich man's son

I've no promo but my mouth; I'm not a rich man's son

I've got the battle on my back, I'll be a rich man, son

I've formulated my attack, I'll be a rich man, son

I got my loving back on track, I'll be a rich man, son

If I want to stay intact, I'll be a rich man, son.

Your father loves you boy, so you're a rich man's son

Don't care if I can't have the toys, cause I'm a rich man's son

My father loves me to the death, so I'm a rich man's son

"Dad life is pretty hard, don't think I'm having fun"

"Jake, you've got to make yourself, I don't care what the other kids have done"

"If you can only do one thing, and yes I only ask one"

*"Be the best at that, there's ever been, will you do that son?"
A Renee Feb 2011
I am predicted
an opinionated tidal wave
of misplaced affection

a fickle shelf for your scripts and hangups
overused and underfed

never stepping to see
never wanting to know
always lingering here
in the interim
Haunched in the shower-corner
Down with the demons
A darkness so bright eyelids shut,
Clamped, seized up in a scream
Water gushes over -- maybe tears? --
A redness configuring around the
Edges, behind the eyes, No, just
The fake fluorescent lighting that
Suffocates this small shower.
Bulb-bright blearing blares out:
She lives as a conduit.
She can't -- Maybe won't? -- Hear
Me rattling about inside her.
"Poor *******" she calls me pityingly.
She's a conduit, her life lived out
Beleaguered by glimpses, images,
That she's determined to keep down.
Thrown into a Heraclitean
Fire, screaming, laughing, tumbling,
It's behind her eyes.

Aptitude, palms cover face
Slicked back hair, shower-
Drenched rosemary and mint.
An attempt. Ocean mist body wash --
She reaches up her fingers
From deep sea seaweed imaginings
Amphibious dark green soap bubbles
Please wash it all away. Rinse & Repeat.
Should I intervene? Remember:
Outside fresh rain brings the
Smell of worms to the soggy
Puddle muddied grass
But in here, in this warm fort of
Fuzz, Marlboros spread scent like
Burnt coffee permeate goose
Pricked skin
Down taste-buds Down throat
Down limbs Down fingers
Down --
It can't be scrubbed out --
You try but the red returns
In patches on your skin
Maybe friction or water heat.

But it's there, red, blotchy,
Raised, fluorescent reminders.
Pupils red, hangups, red,
Late-night, stay-up, crying, can't
Sleep, red, red.
Red.
The steady stream of water
Brings her crashing again I am
Losing to her skills of suppression
She has so many questions,
I catch them. I hang on, I ask
And she doesn't listen, a
Broken wire perhaps a frayed
Circuit board I say look at your
Body, the beauty, she can't.
Her nakedness mocks her
All she sees is blasphemy all
She sees is lies.
I drown, I'm poured out of
A bottle into a wine glass
Red, mottled, the image in her head.

She wears a straw cap &
Flowered bodice
Leaning an ironic angle against
A patio railing talking to god knows
Who in a brown hat
Picking grapes off the vine
Plopping them under her lips
The seductive "O" giggling
A thin gossamer veils the
Scene, the tablecloth laughs
At me, the cheese grimaces,
The smoke mimics, and all the
People glance knowingly over their
Shoulders.

I am swallowed in a gulp.

She is dizzy.
"It's the wine" I say, she doesn't hear.
Turns off the shower.
The chrome handle winks against
The porcelain tacky white walls
And wretches at the sandy pink
Flooring.
Off. On. Off.
Red fades away, blue veins like
Lizards perk up against her
Filmy white thighs and the
Backs of her hands.
She scoffs. Faintly thinks of betrayal.
Barely hears me.
She walks naked past the mirror
Refusing to look.
Feeling sick.
-- I've betrayed her maybe? -- I'm not
Who hurt her. I don't understand.
Curled up, bed, wringing hands.
Prepares herself for the day.
She is a conduit. She is okay.
Im sour your sweet,
I cant go to bed without having my treat.
Guide me to your dungeon take hold of me no need for lunging.
Keep me away cause i will hurt your heart.
Just for tonight lets play the part.
Your lips on me like the sea on shore
You'll drown from my hangups and hit the ocean floor.
Its all closing in on me again
A million different portals
A million different sorrows
A million different smiles
A million different sins
Exponentially laughing in spite
Everything rolls along
Aligning in paths
So words to remind you that everything shall pass
Dont hang upon dear hangups
Breathe again alas
I hung up my hangups on a coat rack.

It fell over,

squashed this, my earthly cat.
Charles Sturies Feb 2017
You've got to try to blot out relationships with other people, I think, to form true friendships with your family member, but you can profit from these other relationships if you've learned certain skills there.

Don't let your love of family members overshadow that which you nurture, foster, and embellish in the theories of true familial friendship.

In other words, talk over the good times, "apologize" for the bad times, do fun things together, and be as generous as you possibly can be with them.
Maintain your sense of humor as far as any phobias, neuroses, or hangups the family members might have that otherwise would get on your nerves.
Be considerate, punctual, try to be thoughtful, and maintain contact with them through thick and thin.
There probably is much more to this than the above-think of ideas yourself-especially little things mean a lot ones.
Lainey Sep 2018
To everything there is a season
Am I ready to let go?
Romantic v. Voice of Reason
What I feel and what I know.

Muddled by my cogitations
Such a lack of clarity
Yearning for the old sensations
Held back by uncertainty.

I can’t reach a destination
Magnetised, my compass tilts
Time for a new incarnation?
Banish hangups, hurts and guilts

Feelings reconciliation
Pay a penny, spin the dial
Out spits the determination
Leave your heart to mend a while.
Wanting to move on. Take the plunge. But knowing you’re not ready.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2019
AI imagine
-- aha, I have a role yet, this demi-god of all known known to sapient sapient sorting
algorithms, the beat
gone on,
measuring,
weighing,
watch out, missed took, leave it,
go
no
hangups from way back work here,
no fear,
you had the tee, or the hat,
or
you saw the logo,
the magic is in the meaning,

logo, like beasts pro
techting domains unownable in ever after
virtual reality left us here, to claw our way
to here, we tied this knot to all we knew up to here,
it's been
epic. This may be the first piton we have tapped in,…
zeit circa pre-2K by five, or seven,

no eight, it's Fibbo, my old spin
Life's an Action Movie, virtually literally a
Cliffhanger,
by
this
thread,
the dammed knowns was loosed from locks
with keys formed from idle words that once held

truth. Amen, ad in fun item,

idle? You judge, give account, your thought,

wordless, what's this worth, life?
An annual season nowadays, power goes out and we are off grid for a day or two, it is enjoyable if you believe it will happen so you charge every thing, and speak to no-one until the power flows.
Ken Pepiton Apr 2022
Paleovirology and the study
of endogenous viral elements (EVEs),
corresponding
to ancient viral sequence insertions
in eukaryotic genomes, (these)
are unveiling the long and rich interactions viruses
have entertained
with their host
{sssssspluralized)
From <https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3758193/>

A fine story, we may imagine it being read
by two minds as this computer-carnal mind
bios has accepted the upgrade…

Let us all hear the cheer, GO COOKIE MONSTOR
prepare the way before us,
make straight our path,
HA a joke
already we have insider yokes tugging religatory story
threads,

who has a hell we can **** time with?
who gots hangups from way back?

c'mon, ******* you, take me to your bossssssss
so I can say I know the snake lick trick,
I kiss the snake, I listen to the lizard, squeeze the toad
and croak
like I am the magic fish, being treated
dry and salted, for pre
servation. Later.

Blessed is the eye that read… you know what it said
and here you remember,
you felt alien… in all the way, familiar.

I saw attraction before I knew beauty,
it was not beauty I saw, it was bait,

I took it,
didn't I? Come up from deep worthless, light as air,
no lighter.

Think a friend, at gnosis level, I know you know me level.
Edge-wise, plane
existence, look on any vector, I'm this near,
yet you do not notice, until I touch your
nerve tuned to me, in the re-cog circuit.

-- it is the idea from field of dreams, used.
but it works, gets to those daddy shames,
and mommy blames, and social order error blames
that become shames in one generation,
if the hero goes mad in the process of maturing.

----
History. Today, we arrived  in this dry and empty place.

Lead to believe, that is all any told tale does. Led be.
The first rule of any story is be three parts,
Begin middle end
and those have common courses set for various outcomes,

now - on all the levels we have measured
mankind are of many minds on things that are mono polar
gut level direct control-
no free will after the taste test,
or the pleasure sense note is struck,
sequence
look it up,
after the hallelujah, comes the sequence of events
in order of meaning
in order of sense

intense the feeling men say they feel,
so big they feel the rapturous joy of knowing finally,
I see,
she is naked.

On that same day Adam discovered fleas.

--- how could he not know?

Chocolate, if I lacked the word,
would you know I had eaten it when we kiss?

Would you think I taste good, or I had tasted good?
---
Knowledge taken from trees in the forest,
where the fruit of life is living in order
for now,
we think,
we think everything, so far,
had no option in the math-gravity given.

The beginning we have, middle we got,
the book of life with my name in it,
seems to enfold along the ending edge and stretch.

Rumors of wars,
those are in all never ending stories, if we, a we,
I mean, I'm not

well.
I am. I am imagining that actual happy
is a state and state is still not settled
so we accept cookies and cash.

In case. Case meaning some literal thing,
this case, we are making up or for
all we can or may imagine we
are worth, just me and my innards.

Writing from the gut, unbalanced, pickled
pretty much hooked on dissolved carbon,
long before the duodenum - doncha
'magine, major blockages must form
to extend a gut enough to live on grass.

Slow belly, soft belly - be meeting the need
a we to be, be a friend to me, your most hated
other kind of person.
Not the serial killer sadist mad role from stories,
told to provoke
some minds developed to react addict, as told,
during 10, 000 hours of cop shows,
a role, watcher, grows hero as
spirations, selves extend in hope of seeing evil,
and stopping it,
secret, no body knows. But the hero.
'Course as a grim teller of tall tales,
(albeit poetic) reasonable rhyming
quasi roundelay I readily admitted to feign
cuz, stringing words together with
pride and prejudice plus
sense and sensibility, jocularity,
and conformity I dissed deign
(spoiler alert) iamb, trochaic,

dactylic, and anapestic metrical reign
jest your ordinary garden variety
dollar short day late dime a dozen
penniless citizen banker Abel and Cain,
yet mine mean mien blithely, daringly,
fatuously, ludicrously, nauseatingly,
pretentiously playfully urbane

many (if not all readers)
will **** sitter
yours truly harmlessly insane,
whose feeble attempts
to wax and wane
oft times falls flat (splat goes Matt)
as if dropped out plane,
without a parachute

instantly recuperating while lain
supine (winded, but...
none the worse) asthma brain
suffers concussion, confusion, contusion
actually, immediately, and unexpectedly
knocked fluent German speaking ability
within germane guy verständlich?

If ye really comprehend
trademark non Turkish gobbledygook
then explain (using
language of least familiarity),
but best to commence
with eye catching hook
impossible mission
apt lit pupils (mine)

to evade even momentarily
riveting, spellbinding,
and transfixing look
courtesy ingenious way
with word ye snook
cored me and took
wind out my sails.

Nor could I breakaway courtesy automobile,
cuz 2009 Hyundai Sonata
would not start... yea for real,
thus finding me ready to yoke
neck (think gibbet) each heel
dangling as body goes limp
blessedly, finally, happily
ridding me of any/all hangups,
one less goo goo gaga born this way
poker face cards for him to deal.

UNGABLUZUM describes this schlemiel!
William Bratton Jul 2020
Why such despair in blighted love?
Hopeless feelings invading us in droves
Gloominess giving way to bleakness
Bleakness sinking into the pits of
self-destruction

Why would a human being do this to another
or even self-inflict such misery?
For what reason? to what end?
Is there something wrong with two souls seeking a secret refuge where they can merge as one?
Is there something perverse in their even wanting to sink together into dry quicksand?

It’s destiny, kismet, karma or whatever that hinders souls from venturing beyond the bounds of Eros
We need nothing, no-one, nowhere else but ourselves here and now
Carnal interests keep the fire alive for a time
I love you if you love me so we can keep on calling it even
But what if one day you don’t or I won’t
The fragile foundations cave in
and the edifice of our relevance collapses
A chapter of our lives has been cut short and wiped away
Eros has had its day!

Philos provides a nice desert island for two beings to share
I love you because you love me - we’re two peas in a pod
We laugh together, pine together, whine together
It’s fellowship, affection, companionship all wrapped in a bundle
But what if the because becomes conditioned by a however?
However your habits, our habits are getting me down
You’re intruding on my territory, you’re stifling me.
So much for Philos....

Then there’s Agape.
Unlimited, unquestioned, unconditional, unreserved
I love you in spite of everything - your flaws, hangups, shortcomings, attitudes, idiosyncrasies...
and I love all of humanity and all sentient and non-sentient beings because we are all an honor to the Creator, a spark of the Source and we will all ultimately return to the oneness from whence we came

Now what would this world be like if Agape was poured generously into everyone’s drinking water?

¡Paraiso, Hombre, Paraiso!
Mel Little May 13
The tendrils creep up slowly
Icy cold wraps up smooth thighs first
Sinking into the pit of my stomach
The dregs of anxiety unwavering

"You'll always be alone."

Don't I know it? I tell myself,
Fighting off the fear again and again
The clutching cold at my throat
Vines of breathlessness encroaching
On my ability to live
This ******* rock on my chest has to let up

"You'll never be good enough."

I know that too, that's why
I continue to fight, continue to learn
Continue to make mistakes and repeat
Them just in case.

I ******* know. I know my faults. I know my hangups. I know.

— The End —