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Marshall Gass Jun 2014
The mystery deepens with slow steps
down the drive to that green mystery box
that holds the secrets of the universe within its grasp.
Besides the bills that need attention
invitations to church services
'fresh cuts'  from  butcher going down
products  the clothing store  discounts
power bills powering me up
water bills wetting me down
local rags headlining unknown street corners
filled with rage and graffiti
police searching for crims
(not on my street-No)
preachers discounting heaven for a tithe
car license rebirth
warrant remake
local  school financial support
what else is new?

I've recently installed another box next
standing beside green box
flip all of the above next box
for recycling.

I only keep the one
which says in small print
No ******* collections on Labour Day.

Author Notes
Do you have the same problem and solution
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 5 months ago
Wuji Oct 2012
I've got that anxiety man,
Faces all around me seem to sag and frown.
Preacher man tells me to look at the sky not ground.
But I want to give the bugs the curusty of eye contact as I walk over them.
Why is their life so simple and mine so unsure?
Bet bugs don't even love they just **** and crawl on.

**** man, I hate all these eyes.
Tip toeing after me like the headlining band.
Not waiting to begin ******* as I head on my way in.
All the clocks say ten but the sun screams it's dawn.
Why aren't I in ******* bed right now...
Can someone shut that bird up!?
Birds in my head.
Jon Tobias Sep 2012
The ticket stall is empty
Sunlight bounces off the pavement
And reflects off the double doors

There are no posters in the frames

In my town
Most places are too cold for pretend

Against the white
In thick black letters
The headlining show
“Theater Closed Broiler Broken”
I finally figuredy won't  out what I am going to do with my pointillism project. I am making my own town. The series will be called "Theater Closed Broiler Broken" I probably won't post them all because they are going to be used for something.... hehe.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
it's either called: watching that technicolour
masterpiece... bell, book & candle,
kim or kimberley or some other from 1958...
and all those photographs
of the empire state building being
constructed...
without a single bungee jumper
or those suicide nets from the neck and bones
of the sweater shops of Corono alias
Mexico and some third party pardons
for the: better placed bet of
the faking it capitol...
and now i know that sargon of akkad
has welsh roots...
which means absolutely nothing...
it also means:
root i... be the don of man
in the girth of the 'oods!
massive attack's - live with me video:
which is twice better than the prodigy's
slap my ***** up...
namely how ******* up
trajectory hulk and spewing leaves you...
when ***** is done solo...
and when all of whiskey is drank
without an honest remark for patron:
ms. amber...
and there's no vinyl record shop
in the vicinity...
a high street where you only get to buy
mobile phones, trackers,
shoes, cheapshit clotches...
pardon coffees and lazy doughnuts
without ever having ever sniffed
living yeast...
always that packaged dry load of ****...
live with me:
i do hope you never jest at the platonic
offer of dreaming even
a sly measure of it coming true...
nothing i write is allowed to fall onto /
into a pillow...
i can imagine a pillow to be a mouth
to be a guillotine i imagine
sleep to be: the precursor ****** of lingering
death...
that bottle of cider and a shot of whiskers?
if there's anything akin to double-dutch...
there's the double-irish...
which is... ugly h'orange...
oh why so ranging Dublin away from
Boston, massachusetts;
privy... come... let's talk...
why is it that the green in the three colours
if Ireland... even the green looks...
"cheap"? it's not the sort of green of Italy...
and sure as ****...
that orange isn't the red of Italy...
and that orange is oh so much cheaper
than... the house of orange and the sinking -
red light district of amsterdam...

- the pleasure always comes
with the final tilt of the glug and...
what's to be made kosher of a goat...
or a ram...
the levite fiddly-bits of orthodoxy
baronage: when any variant of prayer
ensues...

no, i can be associated with the crazy cat ladies...
i too own two maine **** cats...
one's headlining as being over 10kg in... "size"...
another is teasing 7kg...
and i vacuum the house every, single day...
i'm truly like an adolf ****** when it comes
to the house being free from it ever
being believed to be a house
that entertain petting cats...

i hate fur... two cats you can keep:
but as long as the house, you sweep...
is... bound to a frequence of once a day...
every day...
ecce diem: omni diem...
that's how i will only allow myself
to keep cats, if the house is vacuumed and freed
from fur, every, single, day...
perhaps i'm asthmatic with a jealous nose
that always wants to inquire
the heights of mountains and the pitfalls
of valleys... and clarifying noble waters
of the spring...

and with a 3rd of a worth of a chemistry's
degree... one could almost wish
to be... this sort of willing...
to be a trashman...
and plot the next leibniz move of never
making it to going out...

my tidy... my tidy...
the best jobs with the least amount
of contact with people playing
sycophancy and the crab and tapeworm
roulette / violin...
if that's... obviously an utopian dream
outside of canada... sign me up!

it's still ***** orange to me...
even the green look *****...
just like: what do you call french navy?
certainly not romanian blue...
the swedish yella is not the romanian
gold-tinge primark yellow...
just saying...

not even excuses for bulgarian green
can match with italian green...
austria is no better when it comes
to red...
the germans have a red in their flag...
that... somehow works
with the red and yellow...
which the belgians seem to lack...
even though they share the same colours...

dutch orange is never really orange:
except when it comes to a football match...
by then the irish orange is
aenemic... to say the least...
and the green is pale...
perhaps because it is left to contrast
with orange rather than red...
and only the french match up to "blue"
of the union jack...
but only thanks to the navy teasing purple
of st. andrew's cross flag of:
tease Midlothian!

the cider is 'ere... the scotch is 'ere...
what do i have to complain about?
complain... complain...
no... nothing... really.
SG Holter Dec 2014
To awake rested, yawn and
get up on the
completely right side
of the bed.

a full, healthy breakfast,
quality coffee.
good news headlining
the paper.

the smell of a bathroom after
a woman has spent time
getting ready for a
night out.

words of kindness from a friend.
such things I adore.
...but I love
poetry more.

a fully comprehensible manual.
a love letter post-it note,
or a book on something
hysterically interesting,

like psychology or history.
music of the kind that you welcome
sticking to your mind for a
whole day.

these things make my day for sure.
...but I love
poetry more.

her hands on me, warm with
sleep as she reaches over and
sighs between dreams.
yes. he's still here...

waking up with her hair in
my face, falling asleep on the
sofa with my head on her legs
the way a dog warms its owner's

feet with itself while resting.
not feeling like myself when
she's further away than the
next room.

hard to not shake
when she cries.
impossible not to laugh when
she laughs,

and to not want her
when she
wants me
to.

****. it's plain to see.
...I love her
more than poetry...
adis g Aug 2013
I wish every day would last forever,
like they seem to in the summer.
With nothing to do
but dwell in your thoughts
and bask in loneliness.

Human contact is annoyingly necessary
and sometimes
I wish I could escape it.
I'd like to be alone,
away from judgements,
just me and my thoughts.
Just me and my wants, hopes, dreams, desires,
sifting and floating in my eyes
and in my mind.

I see them quite clearly now,
only the thin fog of time clouds my view,
making them seem like an illusion.
Why do I wish for the future
with such anxiety
and at the same time,
long for the past?

Everything is temporary.
That thought has been headlining
every corner of my ideas
and hopefulness.
Everything is temporary,
everything is an illusion
just waiting to dissolve into the past
wanting me to miss it
and yearn for it back.

Everything ends the same.
Why worry about a broken window
a ripped page,
a battered heart,
when everything will end up fixed,
or in the trash,
or healed and scarred over.

Everything ends up in the past
and the things you once looked forward to
with such fear and excitement
become irrelevant.

If material possessions aren't important,
then what is?
Possessions are all we have.
We possess cars, computers, phones, clothes,
books, money,
knowledge.
Everything we know, feel, do,
are revolved around what we possess.
What more is there?

Even love is a possession.
You hold it, you keep it,
you cherish it,
and it's painful to part with it.

Everything in life is temporary,
nothing can cause joy
without eventually
causing pain.

Nothing gold can stay.
Big Virge Sep 2020
Variety They SAY...
Is The... " Spice of Life "... !!!

Well They Could Also Say...
It INSPIRES My Rhymes...
And Helps Me To Write...

....... My Poetry...... !!!!!

It Also FEEDS HUMANITY...

So Can Someone PLEASE Explain To Me...
How RACISM Sees NO DEFEAT.... !!!?!!!

Well That's NOT The Subject...
... DIRECTING This Piece...

It Would Seem That The Subject...
Is..... " VARIETY "...... !!!!!

My Variety of Thoughts...
Are... FAR From Small...

In FACT Like Me...
They're Rather TALL...
And Built To ENTHRAL... !!!

When Given The Call...
To Exude MULTITUDES...
of Words From BIG VIRGE...
I Use To... OOZE Views... !!!!!

My Wordplay FILLS...
Some Pretty BIG BOOTS...
And ALWAYS Instils...
A Number of CLUES...
As To Some of The Things...
That I'm... INTO...

My Wordplay REIGNS...
Rather Like A DELUGE... !!!

One That POURS And Lyrically SOARS...
With Varieties That WARRANT Applause... !!!

But Sometimes Of Course...
When Airing My Views...
It Appears That Some Crews...

... CLEARLY CAN'T...
Take The TRUTH... !!!

So Choose To Be RUDE...
When I Walk Through The Door...

VARIED Attitudes...
In Prose That I Use...
Leave MANY Confused...
And Somewhat Bemused... ???

When My Poetry Moves...
Like Tap Dancers Shoes...
From Current Affairs...
To... Social Issues...

And ESPECIALLY When...
My Words Reflect MOODS...
That PROVE I Can Be...
The DARKEST of Dudes... !!!!

But My VARIANT Use...
of... Poetic Tools...
EVEN Through DARK DESIGNS...
OFFERS LIGHT To Bright Minds...

Who Are QUICK To REALISE...
My Wordplay INVITES...
... People To UNITE... !!!

And STOP These POINTLESS...
... STUPID FIGHTS... !!!!!

IF Variety IS...
... " The Spice of Life "...

WHY Try To... DIVIDE...
And CONSTANTLY... "Hide"...
From... CHANGING The Tide... ?!?

When Nature Decides...
To Let The Seas RISE...

What Will You Do... ???
RELY On Your PRIDE... !?!

Or Maybe... RESIGN...
To Just TOEING THE LINE...
That HELPS You... Steer CLEAR...
of THOSE Who You FEAR... !!?!!

It's Simply A QUESTION...
So DON'T Sit There STRESSING... !!!

MANY Aren't Prepared...
To... EVEN Go THERE... !!!

A Place MORE Inclined...
To... UNITE Mankind...

One Where The TRUTH...
Is... OPEN To View...
By ALL Human Beings...
Instead of Being Reduced...
By Individuals Who Choose...
To MISUSE And ABUSE...
The TRUTH To Confuse...
To KEEP People CONSUMED...
Like HOT AIR In Balloons... !!!

The LIES That They USE...
PROTECT Their... " SELECT Few "...

While... VARIETIES...
NOT Singularities...
Affect Words I INSERT...
... INTO My Poetry... !!!!!

From *** To Subjects...
of... Social Context...
It's A Question of TEXT...
Then What Happens Next...
Is... RARELY Complex...

EVEN When INTELLECT...
OVERRIDES Common Sense... !!!

Now VARIETIES DIFFERENT...
To My Poetry I Have To CONFESS...
Do Leave Me PERPLEXED...
And YES Sometimes VEX... !!?!!

But VARIETY IS...
The Name of The Game... !!!

But MANY RESIST My Poetic Scripts...
And... Probably WISH...
I'd KEEP MY LIPS ZIPPED... !!!

Well My RIGHT To EXPRESS...
IS THE SAME As THEIRS... !!!!!

So... If They DON'T Like Me...
TOUGH LUCK I DON'T CARE... !!!!!

Having Found A Way...
To... EASE MY Pain...

I'll ALWAYS Engage My Pen To Page...
And... VARY My Prose...
When CONTROLLING The Stage... !!!!!

And May Well Cause OFFENCE...
With The Things That I Say... !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That's SIMPLY MY WAY...
Kind of Like... " FRANK "...

But My Use of Wordplay's...
NO... " Variety Act "... !!!!!

I STICK To The FACTS...
While MANY COLLAPSE... !!!

Because When They Write...
They Write To... " INVITE "...
Those Listening To CLAP... !!!!!

While Words I Transcribe...
KEEP ROCKING WEAK Jaws...
When Words I RECITE...
KEEP GETTING Applause...

Because of VARIETIES...
LOCKED Like Awards...
And Kept DEEP INSIDE...
... My Poetic Thoughts...

My Poetry VARIES...
AWAY From The Norm..............

And When It's PERFORMED...
It Adorns PERFECT STORMS... !!!!!

... CREATING A Wave...
NEVER SEEN From Ashore... !!!

If You DON'T Believe Me...
I Suggest You Ask GEORGE... !!!!!

I... VARY My Prose...
MORE Than Pete Doherty...
... FILLS UP His Nose... !!!

His Nose MUST Be FILLED...
With... FIFTY Pound Notes... !!!

While SO MANY Artists...
Are Playing At Gigs...
Just To Earn FIFTY Quid... !!!!!

He SHOULD THINK of Kids...
Who NOW Look UP To Him...
Whilst CHASING Their Hope...
of... Having Their Name...
HEADLINING At Shows... !!!!!

CHASING A Life...
of... " GLAM GLITZ & FAME "...

Can Leave People BROKE...
In YES... VARIED Ways... !!!!

MORE Than People KNOW... !!!!!!

These Words I Now... " Quote "...
Are For... Rope - A - DOPES... !!!!!!

This Industry Seems...
To REVOLVE Around Coc'... ?!!!?

Which CLEARLY Explains...
Why It's Run Like A JOKE... !!!!!

VARIETY Is A Part of My Scripts...
And THIS SIMPLE Poem...
Should CLEARLY PROVE This... !!!!!

From RACISTS To Subjects...
... AFFECTING Celebs'...
To Views About UNITY...
And Common Sense...

Views SEEN In Movies...
To Wordplay That's GROOVY...
Have HOPEFULLY KEPT...
My Words In Your Heads...

EVEN IF... Some...
May Have Left You UPSET... !!!!!

So Right Now I Guess...
It's Time For The END...

So Here's The BIG FINISH... !!!!!!

My Wordplay's DISTINGUISHED...
And WON'T Be... DIMINISHED... !!!!!!!!
... I Will NOT RELINQUISH...
My RIGHT To FREE SPEECH...

When RETAINING A Level...
of.... " SOBRIETY "....
Whilst Sharing My Views...
Through POETIC Feats...

Just Like THIS PIECE...
........ I've Called........

....... " Variety ".......
One thing writing does, is to open you up to a variety of things ............
judy smith Aug 2016
A Penn Hills man will have items from his clothing line featured in a fashion show in Pittsburgh on Saturday.

Cary Heard, owner of CDH LABEL Clothing Co., has teamed up with The Ladies of Distinction — a recently-formed group of women in Pittsburgh and surrounding areas who are focused on community outreach, fundraisers and programming that benefits the educational growth of underprivileged youth — to headline his first fashion show as they present, “Make Me Over,” an extravaganza with a vision to “spread self-love awareness in the community and embody the greatness that exists in all of us.”

Heard, 22, said the show's goals were relatable to him as he relied on support from family and friends to pursue his ambition to become a fashion designer.

“I was always encouraged because I was good at (designing clothes). It was a talent and people wanted to see it grow,” said Heard, who has been featured three times in Pittsburgh's Fashion Week.

He said his friend's mother bought him a new sewing machine when he was 14 under the condition that he practiced sewing daily.

Heard said receiving the gift turned out to be a “pivotal point” to change his hobby into something he could make into a career.

Kim Heard, his mother, said Cary was “full-blast” with designing after that.

“He wanted to make things for himself, and his style changed. He was passionate about looking good in his clothing and making things he could wear. His peers asked him to make things and that snowballed into making vests for guys, and he made dresses for his dates to semi-formals, and then prom gowns,” Kim Heard said.

Fellow designer Starr Thomas has worked with Heard for more than five years, a time in which she said the duo has both collaborated and given one another input on designs.

“Our bond is just motivating one another and giving each other confidence to keep going,” she said.

Thomas said that since she's known Heard, his attitude toward others has always been “be confident in yourself,” and that he lives his own life that way.

“He's so passionate about (designing clothes). That's part of what makes him special. That, and his talent,” she said.

Heard's passion, talent and demeanor toward life has propelled him into headlining fashion shows.

Saturday's show will provide an opportunity for others to have confidence.

“Make Me Over” creators hosted an open online contest, where 40 contestants submitted photos and essays describing why they thought they deserved a makeover.

Two winners were selected, and on Saturday they will have a complete makeover and get a chance to walk the runway sporting a new look which includes hair, makeup and wardrobe.

Heard described one of the winners as a single mother who devotes the majority of her time to her daughter and hasn't had “much time for maintenance on herself.”

The second winner was nominated by her friend. Heard said she is “very involved” with community outreach, and is a “mother figure to many young people in the community.”

The person who nominated her wrote that she was deserving of the makeover due to her “strong cultural presence.”

Heard said all of the submissions received were “heartfelt,” and that he's glad to headline a show encouraging self-confidence, and gives fellow-designers chance for exposure.

“I'm hoping to make (the show) an annual thing. I hope it will bring a crowd that will create networks for myself and our other designers,” he said.Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/****-formal-dresses | http://www.marieaustralia.com/cheap-formal-dresses
Kara Buis Dec 2011
Is this worth it?

To me, yes.

But who am I kidding myself?

The ball's in your court.

It always has been,

An I'm sitting on the bench dying for a chance to take control.

Do you know that I can't leave?

Even if I try?

Because for some odd reason

All I want is you.

All I need you.

Yeah, only you.

Never been one to be alone, but here I am,

Just myself for months,

Passing through the weeks just to make it to the days when I can see you.

Take a look at these words.

All about you.

You.

You.

You.

At least on the surface.

Could be some ****** metaphor to describe how self-interested I am, for so strongly desiring you.

Just so **** frustrating,

But momma always told me "life isn't fair",

And with all the stories of **** and child abuse and natural disasters headlining the papers, I know she's so right.

It's not that God enjoys taking a **** on His creations,

But let me ask you this.

Can pleasure come without pain?

No.

A ****** screams before she sighs.

A mother bears pain to birth her baby.

And if I didn't have to work so hard for you, would it be worth it?
Michael Ryan Mar 2013
Don't read, this is a waste of your time
Rotting
does this associate food
this could pertain to my ill thought mind
I would consider rotting an equivalent to life
giving a definition to what we are all doing
something that begins quite small
and ends up quite ambiguous
Since involving all sorts of life, then food is associated
Like all food
Some begin to rot so much sooner than others
some decay at a rate much faster
if we were to consider them synonyms: decaying and dying
then we could all die at different rates
not physically, but also emotionally
maybe our insides are meant to turn to mush
and maybe some aren't in such a rush
sometimes I think I'm something that's already expired
something that is never desired
one of such simplicity
I could never create
gaining goals and headlining shows
I will believe that maybe some reach their  end much sooner
others will live for hundreds
where others will live to none
Sometimes the goal is not one to reach for
it's one that all must let happen
simply and respectfully
I am rotten
the only difference
some can comeback...
You shouldn't have read this
Except food, Food is done for when it's rotten so throw that stuff away!  All of these last "poems" I feel have ******, and I think it's because I'm not going through anything like I was when i first started the poems on here.  It's just nothingness and i am trying to write about nothingness, but all I get is that I am doing nothing and I would rather be else where.  When I have a goal to write about I write better, like when I was so complexed last semester.
SG Holter May 2015
Headlining monsters smiling at
News cameras; lacks of
Regret framed with
Blitzes and the
Disgusted attention
Of normal people.

Parents making each other's
Tears their own in
Disbelief, as children in
Hidden rooms
Search for the soft comfort of
Their inner

Teddy bears while pointing at
Dolls in the hands of
Patient professionals.
There? OK. And...
There?
Caring strokes on
Innocent hair.

You're doing fine,
Darling.
A wounded
Feather finally rested in a
Nest lap. *You're
Doing just
Fine.
Amanda Apr 2015
I still share stories of us...
to strangers, and to people that never knew you.
I paint a lovely picture of those memories and my tool is the knife you left stabbed in my back, right between my shoulder blades.
The blood has this thickness that helps portray this realness that
is unlike any other medium once it's delicately laid upon a canvas.
I've passed your apartment stoop, hoping you'd be sitting there with a stale beer and a cheap menthol drag dangling from your *******.
Even though it's never you sitting there, the same stench of *** and
the aroma of Svedka still drifts around the humid city air.
It causes a whirlwind of emptiness in my head and I'm never
able to clear my thoughts of you completely.
When I look up at night and see the millions of stars making their headlining appearances in the dark, I always wonder if we'll ever be
discovering the exact same one like we found each others hearts.
But then I remember, just like losing sight of a star in the sky, we lost each others hearts and you chose to never try searching for mine again.
Steven Hutchison Apr 2015
We write our visions in superscript
Headlining the ordinary with extra
Harvesting mystery from the visible
Coating assumptions with doubt
We live in the world of potentials
Loosed by the origin of shadows
From the trembling of the earth
We weave our melodies
Cracking the doors in the framework
Letting the universe breathe
Polypolarity
The glorious venom of transformation partitions the (death of) excitement in her eyes. The lies in her vinegar voice tether a shopworn tale

Aimless, then sweet, cold and now caustic, forever formless, a feint felt on a whisper:::
Ladies and Gentlemen I present to you the eighth wonder of the world!!!... headlining the one and only Heuretic Houdini
pinning her down
only works in the bedroom


She did not know who she was (so how could I) It was her greatest strength, something to be pitied  and pined for ::: perpetually ephemeral,
the eternal curse.

Polypolarity dead eyed at a wedding
Polypolarity on a cold street in Blue
Polypolarity spoke two "I love you's"
Polypolarity never knowing what's true
..
A rework
The glorious venom of transformation partitions the (death of) excitement in her eyes. The lies in her vinegar voice tether ancient chains to a shopworn tale.

She is seamless, then sweet, cold and now caustic; forever formless, a feint felt on a whisper:::

The unending unknowable, my perfect pathogen... I loved to watch her work a room

Ladies and Gentlemen I present to you the eighth wonder of the world!!!... headlining, the one, the only, heuristic  Houdini...
pinning her down
only works in the bedroom!!!


She did not know who she was (so how could I) It was her greatest strength, something to be pitied and pined for ::: perpetually ephemeral,
the eternal curse.

Polypolarity dead eyed at a wedding
Polypolarity on a cold street in blue
Polypolarity spoke two "I love you's"
Polypolarity never knowing what's true
..
Bipolar x 2
Mark Bell May 2017
Spy in the white house
Russia's holding the coop
Trump and the Marxists
Headlining the duck soup.
its now called the red house
America has been *******
Now for the night of the long knives
We're thee opposition get bumped,
Blonde boy wonder trumping American Dreams
Red stars on the flag as daft as it seams
itsall iwrite Jun 2018
europe and mathematics simple explained 17.06.18

around this will be fuss
poetry and mathematics will intertwine
zero ability to understand is the plus
won't be leaving no european shrine.
we do have to pay continuously
this will effect the way you feel
the figures and amount changing ridiculously
a sour feeling from sweet heart deal.
20 billion is headlining
600 million a week
my cut is 70 percent no underlining
the cost of poetry is bleak.
going to display all sums
buss es will clearly explain
highgate to kentish slums
not highlighting daddy got here on the gravy train.
are you awaiting equation
got to bring you some sadness
its as clear as the poetry invasion
all figures and savings are pure madness.
hate to explain poetry.
Cedric McClester Oct 2021
Words by: Cedric McClester

From his conception
Donald Trump was a zero
While General Colin Powell
Was a natural born hero
And much like the Roman Emperor
Nero
Or Vice President Agnew - Spiro
Donald Trump is a villian an antihero

Trump is not fit to shine
General Powell’s shoes
Or stand in his shadow
Which he’ll disabuse
But that’s only because
He’s convinced or confused
That he’s the only one worthy
Of headlining the news

Trump is the devil
Without a disguise
A clear and present danger
Word to the wise
A threat to democracy
Which we should realize
Who remains as dangerous
As the crow flies

Now General Powell
Has finally transitioned
Having achieved
His every ambition
While Donald Trump
Remains on a mission
To recapture what he lost
So he’s still fishing







Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2021. All rights reserved.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2022
what i've learnt about bands... say, they're headlining over
two days at one venue...
on the first day they play all their major hits...
it feels a lot like a struggle: i struggled to not yawn
even though i shouldn't have...
sure... they played all their best songs...
                  Scar Tissue, Under the Bridge...
among others... but the whole flow of the set-list felt
disjointed...
           the crowd felt too fresh...
                 and sure: on the first day the venue was sold out...
if i wasn't working i don't think i could appreciate
a back-to-back spectacle by the same band:
no... i wouldn't be stupid enough to buy tickets
for two consecutive days...
     isn't it enough that i ****** up my knees, feet and back
earned over £400... spent £35 on a t-shirt
and bought myself lunch: the best steak & potato
pasties in town?
no... i wouldn't have bought tickets for yesterday
and today... i would have thought like most people might
think: they're going to play the same songs...
nope... bands with a big enough oeuvre never play
the same songs... if they're playing two or three days
at the same venue...
   today's set list was much better...
because they only played Californication, Give it Up...
and By the Way...
    that's the only three songs they split between
the two days...
       sure... yesterday i was writing about being spotted
for what i do...
these two women started hovering around
where i was placed... i spotted them once...
disappeared... they reappeared...
one was my sort challenge... a big girl...
a big girl akin to ALISON TYLER big girl...
sort of the same height as me... all the necessary freckles
of a brunette and not a ginger...
lovely curves: big... not fat... just big...
she kept eyeing me up... i don't know whether
the crowd gave her the "*****-and-giggles" or whatever:
but her friend started to try and comfort her...
scratching her back... then caressing it...
her bra strap became exposed... then her friend tried
to hide it... and she kept looking at me with
these doe eyes...
     i couldn't allow them through the fire exit...
since only personnel can walk through freely...
so i told them: there's this disability bay up there
and the seats are far apart...
you might not see the band: but you'll hear them...
that's the best i can do...
       they left and i never saw them again...
maybe i'm just imagining things...
    who the hell buys tickets to a concert and suddenly
conjures up "panic attacks"?
i'm not saying: fakes panic attacks...
  but conjures them out of thin-air!
            maybe i have a story in my head that sort
of deviates from "reality"...
            hell... i'd buy tickets to a ******* opera instead...
that's usually a tame musical experience...
but still a musical experience...

just to the end i figured something about crowd
control, it's just a minor detail,
i sort of knew why things were done as they were
to be done: egress...
how to get over 30K spectators from the pitch...
two routes...
one route? a bottle-neck... up the stairs...
onto the concourse...
second route? a whale's ****** sized exit through
a tunnel...
what do you do? you block off the whale's ******
sized exit through a tunnel for about five minutes...
by placing traffic-cone people in high-viz. jackets
by this exit... today i felt like i was the only
controller on an airport tarmac...
moving my hands: indicating direction for
the initial crowd leaving to take...
           better orientating airplane...
   up the stairs... to the right... to the right (my right,
their left)... that's the whole trick...
establish a flow up the stairs... so that enough people
take the bait... which creates an initial split in the crowd...
since the bottleneck route can only take so
much traffic... and while people congest around
the high-viz. traffic cone people... right...
one flow established... now pull apart
the cordon of high-viz. traffic cone people
apart and let the mass of traffic through the tunnel...
makes sense...
                   i know there's no need to think about
such simple things...
but what news do you usually hear from Mecca
at the time of the Hajj?!
    what's the news? about 70 dead when the crowd
stampedes and crushes everyone...
i hate working with people with large eyes:
fear has large eyes...
    and panic is worse than ******...
               you just want people to go to an event
and leave safely... some drunk wizards and philosophers
will always be found... but that sort of stressing of
"individualism" is about as useful as
a gherkin on a pile of cucumbers...
                     i hate losing my temper with drunk people,
thank god it's a concert so you do have to shout
because of the ear-plugs...
and stand there like some hyper-inflation of "******"
gesticulating via "on MIGI": in MIG...
                  a make-shift deaf-person talk with the body...
it's not an acronym, it's a word borrowed from
******: in flashes... finger language...
hand arm body language...  
          wink wink... smile... neck turning insinuations...
i don't know if i'd make a better postman...
i think i'd make a great housekeeper when
people go on holidays and need a caretaker...
perhaps a great dog-walker...
certainly not a dentist or a heart-surgeon...
that path is lost... i'm not going to pick that sort of life
up... i'm still thinking about picking up
the role of a chemistry teacher: although i'd prefer
to be an English teacher...
  
   what a gruesome weekend... what a rewarding
weekend... i only woke up at home and
only spent 12am through to 2am scribbling and drinking...
as much as i love the idea of home:
give me a horse! and a good stretch of an Ukrainian steppe!
i've earned enough to 0 my debt and spend
the rest on prostitutes... which i will after the 1st of July...
because... i have nothing to spend it on...
plus... if the economy is going to work...
the women need the money... i just buy whiskey...
band t-shirts after seeing them in concert...
some food from time to time...
but... better the women have the money to spend...
but i'm not just going to give money to women
via marriage... via marriage that means
having a limited amount of ***
and hoping for people to attend your funeral... ah ha ha...
better i give the money to prostitutes
and have *** in return... makes sense...

i was actually dreaming about this manic weekend
finishing...
i was dreaming something akin to...
which i did fulfill...
the last day...
   singing die eisenfaust am lanzenshaft
(Teutonic Crusader song)
while walking home from Romford St. to where
i live, while drinking some cider,
smoking a cigarette or two...
admiring the night, the stars... the lateness of the sunset
of high June... wishing to find my cat sleeping
in my bed... waiting for tomorrow
in the form of waking up at 12pm,
cleaning the house... waited for the boiler technician
to come at 2pm and get paid £80 for 15 minutes'
worth of work...

then cycling for an hour... then making lunch
for dearest father with the leftover steak meat...
then making dinner power: roast chicken...
some vegetables... i'm always in my "element"
when cooking...
cleaning the house: that too...
        i have at least one night until a shift
at Wembley for an Ed the Ginger gig so i can
completely drink myself under the table:
the Matrix setting: there's no table...
as there's no "under": therefore...

                      i work hard i drink hard...
crowd control: eh... work for retards...
but these army references keep trickling down
from the top to the "stormtroopers"...
i don't know why the Somalis and other copper-neccks
like working with me...
once a make-shift supervisor...
i'm still their supervisor...
i think they just like saying the word: Matthew...

i was away from working for enough
to know... that work and youth don't mix...
und ihre schwerter blinken...
    
if i had more time: i rather walk into
the:
verdunkelt-wald... mondbeschienensilberlocken...
than a lampezündetehaus...
das knarren von kniefern
im alles das ist nacht!
                kuss mich morgen:
zu wahrheit die gähnen-mittag-von-die-sonne:
sonne das nie blinken oder schlafen...
nacht ewig: ein nacht alles uns!

i disintegrate into German from English
since... English is sort of German with some
*******-workings of pseudo-French workings...

oh but the conversations you hear...
the sort of fears blacks have concerning American culture...
the anti-racism culture of England...
too much was said in order for me to write
something equivalent to a haiku:
we, just, get, along...
   sure... i get it... there are outliers...
anti-racist white girls and their fetishes...
i have a fetishes for mushrooms and cats...
and caterpillars... i have a fetish for Turkish girls...
i have a fetish for Teutonic crusader songs...
i have a fetish for the German tongue...

but the young copper-necks like working
with me... i like them... i like their hue...
they're lazily employed at first but they soon build up
momentum...
when that happens i just start singing Teutonic songs
in my head.... i.e. we're here to get paid...
we're not in an army...
i'm planning to ******* to the land of Nod
from 2am through to 12pm... with my cat sleeping
with me... sure... i wish it was a woman...
let's not wish on too much...
first i need to scratch my scar tissue...
peel off some scab... eat it like a dog...
Jemminah really ****** me off...
not that she was an easy catch...
   but because she was a ginger and an impossible catch...

but that's the beauty of life:
you're never going to get what you "think" you're
supposed to expect... that never happens...
no one is ever promised to be born with
a crown of thorns of the crown of England...
are they?!
the idea is to diffuse the "situation"...
unlike in Republics... the old ways remain
the same... keep the majority a majority...
and then keep a scrutiny on the minority
that want to exist outside of the realm of the minority:
faking majority rule...
but?! first you have to sort out the fake minority
rule of PRIDE politico *******...
no one likes a minority detailing rules
for a majority to follow...
what one likes? individuals to detail rules
for a majority...
individuals > minorities when it comes
to the dynamic of ruling over the majority...

   classical western democracy cannot ever champion
the minority... a sub-class that undermines
the class of people that require to be guided...
this sub-class of individualism can never
undermine the individual...
but individualism is not somehow spawned:
orientated: dictated: by precursors...
it "arrives" when it must "arrive"...
                      
           give my heart and my feet a rest....
spawn some new idiots...
some spares of asp, wasp...
this night... drinking cider under this one specific
weeping willow...
dreadlock i.e. Jamaica is nowhere to be found...
dj.
I used to want to be a DJ until I met one.
I used to want to be a DJ until he left my ears ringing with all the things I had done wrong like cymbals in my face.
I used to want to be a DJ because they looked like they were finger painting music on vinyl,
but the one I knew dug knuckles into my tissue-paper chest and called it his job.
I thought a DJ's job was to make art.
I used to want to be a DJ until I learned they etch their fingerprints into your record and forget (refuse?) to wipe them off.
I had his vinyls propped up against my wall. I wanted to rip his name off all of them.
I used to want to be a DJ until I sat in his office listening to the lies he put in his lyrics.
I wanted to find the console and turn the audio down, but instead I looked for him to console me.
I wanted him to sympathize but that too would have been synthesized.
I used to want to be a DJ until I learned they amplify your weaknesses and loop them, loop them, loop them.
I wanted to fade to the background but 'if you ain't redlining, you ain't headlining,'
and I was redlining, I was redlining, I was redlining-
looped and scratched and mixed until I was my very own single,
alone.
my tears the only streaming platform that he could not control.
I used to want to be a DJ until he shut me in my own dead air.
he had other records to make and other albums to fill.
I never did learn what he labeled me.
yes. this is about you.
Travis Green Aug 2019
I was hurt beyond measure, beaten, bruised,
shut down, sinking beyond mountainous
stones, closed chambers, saw-slashed syllables,
whip-smashed vowels, dry rotten, abandoned,
sashed up, floating on dank shores, ax slapped,
crashing below burned hallways.  My heart was
shifting in unstable positions, squeaky baseboards
and blackboards, screeching sounds folding
and unfolding around my broken soul as I stared
around the empty bedroom seeking serenity
from this lost love lingering inside my cells.
I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t falling
in love with you, your dark passionate eyes
reaching deep into the layers of my labyrinth,
thick lips filled with incandescent rhythms,
widening in my sight, sparking my horizon
as I longed to embrace your landscape.
soft bones of freedom and hope traveling
within your wild nature, seamless treasures
revolving in the air, wavy hair everything
I wanted and more, wonderful arms a stream
of poetry, a dancing mix drumming through
the cracks of my creation, awakening my universe,
your rapping soundtrack of romance headlining
the cityscape, shining like flashing stoplights,
like crystal china.  And as I paced back and forth
around the shadowy space, the green-walls
starting to close in on me, all rusted and ragged,
hardened, splintered commas snapping away
from subjects, damaged verbs and run-on
sentences, my shrunken shoulders trapped
in hollow holes, dying, dim, slim,
shattered stems encompassing my limbs,
sour vowels burning in my mouth,
squashed maggots and bedbugs dissolving
down my throat, spoiled milk clouding
my windpipe, huge cockroaches crawling
all over my flesh as I took in the gratifying
touch.  I was losing my mind, shotgunned,
stunned, uncolored depictions stealing
away my serenity, jagged letters scrawled
in sharp swords across my blackened belly,
stained mirrors facing me in every direction,
my bladed hands lashing at every stained image,
feeling the fire flames from each cracked glass,
sizzling slopes, crazed hallucinations, dazed places,
raw-scorched galaxies, my crippled fingers
bleeding in saddened songs, smoked, undone,
unready, diminishing beneath slippery creeks
as I wondered why love could hurt so **** bad,
why when every time I thought I had found the one,
it was just another mugshot melody shattering
my system.

— The End —