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dark blue Aug 2021
bow down to women
your superior
admit it
deep down inside
you know men are inferior

always *****
hormonally driven
a slave
to their desire
whacking off
watching ****
chronically *******
for six hours a day

in modern times
men are useless
obsolete
it's a new age
of girl power
female *******
gynarchy
Britta Aug 2012
That which Boils Toils
the product of my affection
May I make an interjection,
      I may be at a spike,
my mind may be filled with spite,
       and that's right, I am more than probably,
       more than likely
       overly hormonally irrationally irate.
Instigated, mind you, by your subterfuge,
       incessant, noncovalent, depressant,
actions of will will make me seethe.
For my seething wreathing rampage feels so good.
Too good,
ice that cascades down your back on a stark hot summer day    
The ice, tiny razors cutting tracks down your back.
Racing beads toward the finish line.
And it feels sublime
The pain of the chill counters the pain of the heat.
And that's how I feel when we meet
at that place where I become a monster.
My chill blown westward
counters the visceral heat in my breast.
That heat that makes me want to beat sticks and drums
and call in my army
It alarms me
That's why I whisper
And shy away
And sulk, because the Hulk is who I'm keeping at bay
My enemy is not the one with eyes searching for me,
but my Jealousy who is at war within me.
Olivia Kent Aug 2013
Drifting, drowning in obsession,
Well, maybe, not really,
Able at last in words,
To release the one and only, Livvi,
Welcome in the real me,
On the way to feeling free!
Don't do religion,
Never will,
Biological science, my believing thrill,
Human being...or been,
Perhaps,
Hold my job down,
Don't always know how,
Sometimes work's my holy cow,
Provides, milk ,meat and honey,
Time and time again,
Hormonally,
If only,
Good God, I wish I could be free, not really blasphemy!
From mediocre life's constraints,
****** brighter picture paints,
Lost in a fog, panic mode, abused,
All too stupid to lose independence, it seems,
Stuck mid ladder, can't hit up,
Can't go down, frozen in space,
Inspiration fading fast,
Sat in land where cloud cuckoo's sing,
Music feeds my head released,
Corrs, sing love some more,
Well maybe some less!
Chilling on a sorry , sunny Sunday morn,
Can only be the best!
Livvi Kent 28/04/2013
ConnectHook Sep 2015
We live in times of innovation.
Winds of change affront the nation;
wind most welcome – by a few
(the masses know not what to do
with engineered progressive change,
their morals slow to rearrange).
And thus, in ornithology
we find an apt analogy…

Phoenix-like the vulture rose
in rainbow raiment, from repose
Its plumage all askew – a freak:
a mutant with a painted beak
borne of winds but lately blown.
This strange new hybrid (yet unflown)
did twitter forth an avian boon.
It preened its plumes and croaked a tune:

“I represent that rarest fowl,
far wiser than outmoded owl…
A dazzling swan of change am I
brought forth to liberate the sky!”

(Yet more appeared a fractured emu;
fair is fowl post-op… they tried to
cross said emu with an ostrich!
(What the hell – the surgeon got rich
changing apples into – mangos;
altering the twos to tangos…)

Fresh from gender suicide
he moulted into she. Beside
herself (itself?) with grief, regarded
previous selves as false: discarded
Sir for Madam overnight;
fixed it, mixed it, made it right.
Since God was wrong the first time ‘round,
Man (or something) thus is bound
hormonally to tweak and mutate,
hastening rebirth’s freakish due-date.

A manly bass – and yet the face
was poorly paired in his/her case
Soprano ought to have resounded –
yet the voice left one confounded.

Rainbow bracelets notwithstanding
this was clearly modern branding
(on the forehead – like a beast?)
well, Jesus said the truth at least:
that angels are of neither gender
(hence no need to check the member.)

Lest we offend endangered species
I commend transgendered theses –
paired with warning and a fable
as they turn the feathered table:

We may nurture fair to foul
while nature shrieks a hideous howl
but foul to fair cannot return;
thus trapped, both Eve and Adam burn.
Life as a high school wallflower served me
without any budding female friendships
until lo…
a gent tulle mandate from my late mother uprooted me
from mine kempf familiar bedrock level road terrain
which venue offered a groundswell
to blossom forth into golden sterling resplendent rod

of natural equipoise (this an unbiased opinion) and balance
with freestyle improvisational swinging motions
unchained from the moors of formality
and lit figurative saint elmo’s sesame street fiery dance

allowing, enabling and providing this shy awkward self
during his young adulthood
to cast away four ever
thy self embroidered handsome

straight as an arrow
naturally high as a kite young guy
buzzing like a yellow jacket
thus liberating spontaneity that je nais sais quoi joie vivre

clamoring headlong toward venus
from healthy pistil packing overflowing bin
laden well nigh testosterone erupting *****
toward opposite gender

whereby bravado donned as key
to *** field of whet dreams
fostering initial albeit late blooming
roll in the hay hormonally rooted rutting squeal!
C Davis Mar 2015
curled up in a corner
of a room you will find me
bent
but not broken and spent
but not spoken with spokes of the bicycle
wheel that broke off and
rolled through the liberation
gate staking
my face-plates,
now, folks,
I have warned you
I am horned and with virtue,
alone but not lonely
I'm a circus clown's pony with
plots of freak mutiny,
a ship-wrecked bronze bust of political impunity
I am star-gazing through blazes of thin paper, puny
little pinners pressed tightly by blazer pocket roomies.
I'm a goonie, a goblin and a masked, hooded robin robbing rich people's goblets of every droplet
and although I move slow I will not
ever stop it
so I sew
on the buttons after I do the popping while Millers mill about
doing holiday shopping
how sloppy
our rituals all empty and flopping
about in the wind like a limp rubber topping for
bottles of formulas filled up with tube-fed
federally-regulated hormonally-muted
undead
living piglets with noses as red as
our shred
of human dignity left after all that
we've spent.
I'm the leftovers left under every park bench.
I'm a snarling, glad monster with the truest intent
for every breath
to be free.
like my fangs and my
fur all curled up in a
corner of a room you'll find me.
...My imagination running rampant in my mid-day calm.
Sarita Crandall Nov 2012
He seems obvious to the note passing,
To the eyes spying and the paper ***** flying.
He sits at his desk with a meek expression upon his face,
Not quite staring into space, but a place.
I can tell by this clean features and his put-together attire,
That he acquires to be in a position higher with such desire.
That he's dreaming of a place that doesn't require baby-sitting hormonally deranged teenagers,
It's a place where maybe he's a manager or somewhere fighting potential danger,
The bell rings above his head which shakes him back to the present time,
He adjusts his jacket and looks around like he committed a crime, then he smiles goodbye to his students like they were piles of grime.
I creep up to his desk and tell him,
It's not that grim, remember, the glass is full to the brim.
Stephen Edwardes Sep 2018
Noah's Yellow Arches

Once upon a time when people lived long
Men walked with god but something went wrong
God spoke to Noah upset by the violence
Both men were solemn consumed by a silence

At the end of the almighty's speech
Noah imagined the heights he could reach
His family were chosen to start a clean slate
A flood would be coming from the heavens of hate

His sons were engaged to build a boat
A vessel unimagined by the average bloke
They sawed through timber from dawn till it dusked
A death warrant signed, they kept it all hushed

They gathered a brace of every fair beast
And harvested grain for the meagrest feast
They bound it in cypress and raised a roof
The Ark set sail in search of the truth

For forty long nights and for forty dark days
Rain fell from the sky in tumultuous ways
The deserts were soaked, valleys were drowned
All others perished and Noah was crowned

He walked to the deck saw doves in the sky
A wry sense of irony crept from his eye
A feeling rose up in this most pious a man
Why was he chosen to manage this plan?

He sat sea sick and contemplative
The new most important original native
As his pride bubbled his confidence grew
He thought himself king, with ideas a new

Why have i toiled in the mud and the rain
Working for a god who is both fickle and vain
He tells me he loves me then leaves us in drought
My children catch fevers my crops never sprout

He spoke to his keeper an old Mr Macdonald
he'd served him for years with his trusty son Ronald
when we make land our new life will be sweet
because I'm in charge now and were gonna eat

no more will we plan for a balanced tomorrow
we'll gorge ourselves on all we can swallow
these beasts we hold captive will never be free
we'll farm them so quickly to stupidity

Start with the chickens they've had too much space
pack them in cages then hormonally lace
imagine twenty thousand in one small field
we'll fatten our bellies on the omelettes they yield

of course some will perish before they can breed
so grind those ones back into chicken feed
don't worry about size or when you should slaughter
to make up the difference we'll pump em with water

Now as you all know my favourite is beef
the succulent flavour of steak through the teeth
for this will require the clearing of trees
'the end of all forests' I'll sign the decrees

But Noah what about the bats and the frogs
get to work Ronald and chop me some logs
by the way boss we'll need more grain
the cattle eat half its hard to sustain

The chemicals used might pollute not please
and there's always the chance of mad cow disease
Dont worry my boys i've thought all this through
on both bats and frogs there's little to chew

the grass we'll genetically alter its code
keep all the seeds so no one should know
the illness will be named variently
call it something fun like human cjd

enough of your moaning i want this thing branded
not talking pokers, I want yellow arches clown handed
I want plastic wrapped around toys in a box
I want diabetes disguised as a healthy detox

I don't care for soil and **** the oceans
not even bothered about factory explosions
as long as the workers are fat or obese
their children are stupid and easy to fleece

Noah stood defiant as the Ark hit the shore
he clenched at his chest his left arm was sore
Ronald enquired about a subsidiary
Noah's heart exploded he died in the sea
Ronald opened his doors in 1940.
happenstance collided, coincided, coagulated, et cetera
with hormonally graphic, dumbfounded circumstance
hence, only by a fluke did I manage
to worm winning trust
among Christmas elves and reindeer
vowing confidence
as a confidante sans this generic guy,

would never breach insidious, impious,
illustriously scandalous
tidbits, into a an underground impregnable
air-raid shelter, the motley crue
tied blindfold over my eyes, didst steer
me hermetically sealed
sound (cloud) proof coed bunker,

though escapades emanated noise asper a clunker
subsequently followed by wail of “just dunk her,”
while ensconced (security detail munchkins,
who just so happened tubby queer
minded entrance portal)
only after getting the thumb up signal,

whereat nose pies planted
espionage surveillance devices
the chief head honcho and attendents,
Smoky and the bandits respectively,
magically, andhandily did ap pear

and despite one hundred percent bug free,
a whispered stance opted just to make sure
no unwanted eavesdropper could overhear
plus every participant swore an oath, cuz

any leaked real or “FAKE” information,
would spell imminent demise to be near
the upshot, sans grave emergency
describing clandestine arraignment
involving some rogue elf
(most likely at least two),

and a misbehaving reindeer
(names withheld to avoid any spoiler alert,
plus this entire kit and caboodle
necessary to help Saint Nick

got wind, (and subsequently reined in)
a rave orgiastic party
with orgamsic oohs and aahs
***, drugs and rock and roll,

that a band aided elf(ves)
laced with Pepper Minstix
(anonymously hashtagged
***** and Gomorrah)
sullied pure as the driven snow repute,

when alias Sugarplum Mary (“FAKE NAME”)
detected snorting *******
code named Alabaster Snowball,
while additionally
besmirching her virginity

via ****** cavorting
amidst a Bushy Evergreen
shaking as if frenzied
with feverish boogie woogie flu

which seductive, prurient,
and master baiter friend zeed
(spunky gangnum style) Shinny Upatree
which could slay Wunorse Openslae reputation
as substance abusers,
and *** offenders if not worse.
Fay Slimm May 2017
Whispers from wine-coloured moonlight have now
blighted old river grass.
No-one will pass by this flood's blistering chorus of
frustrated past outcry.
The waters stay silted with years-long, war-seared
bitterness as each ill-timed
Peace talk crumbled to finish killed by conclusions
of coated top-brass.

Dreams of the tortoise-shelled butterfly days faded
long before turbulent rapids
Drew young men and women toward battles over
naught but misapplied fears.
Lifetimes float hormonally by in riverside history of
pride's facade of need for action
Forces, press-mustered are taught blind allegiance
to naught but mindless leads.

Listening I hear victims' bubbling exits still weeping
regrets for conceding to hate.
Wisps of blood-to-come days surface from tainted
mud as no war moulders easily.
What happens when, hit by flows of violence peace
can no longer struggle for gain ?
In reddened undertow of river-mud woes rise from
those caught up in sightless obedience.
Ken Pepiton May 2024
i.
"Why didn't you make it clear, prove your self?"
Maybe Bertrand Russell, an ashiest, anyway.
Vapours of smoke.
Signs of the times,
asked for during old days
in search of living dreams
on discovery of reason sought,
thinking what, in truth, declared
did the mighty king of Nineveh see?

Not the wondrous rescue
and return to mission, after three days
attested to
by the business
of Christianity, testing hearers
of words, logical words, if this, then that,

hold, hold this thought, think imperative
faith in unseeable thinkable things,
only holds true the evidenced hope.
No if,
no sign but the Sign given Nineveh, the preaching
of Jonah, whose fish story was not mentioned ---

And what remedy remains for the sign seeker,
not the rising from the dead, or the monstors
from the depths of hope deferred…?

ISIS actually hammered the Assyrian Lion to dust,
yet we have video and can see the symbol's self
evinced in illiterate prisoners of holy interpretations,

in the spirit of the destroyer, hater of hateful things,
holy ordo of bulls over lions, elephants over ***'s assets.
Where no peace is, I say,
Isaiah says Peace, Peace is ai ah, aight

---------- channel enough water of life, chi
in essence, mistaken for brute force mastery,
spirit in a child, or a colt or a pup, or most carnivores,
tamable by reinforcement learning, habituation holdover
appetites control the will, as we all must learn, control
or be controlled, such are life's lessons, learned
time after time, as seasonal patterns reflect
cosmic realities, in terms of carnivorous
reasons for wars against Caine's kind,
tillers of trees and weeds and grasses,
beaters and rhetters of fibres,
twisters of threads and cords and ropes,

platers of hairs,
weavers of warm soft things…
fabricating knacks aquired taught,
re
fabricating first after all was lost, now
once more, we begin when nothing is known

true enough to **** for.

--------------------

ii.
Simple conversation,
making knowable a mystery hid,

between the lines, truly hiding hoped for
signs like unto those witnessed
in Nineveh, at the doing
of the logical, logos presented as fact,

repent or perish, no fish story needed,
the miracle is that the whole    
population did turn from sin,
- as it is writ it was done, indeed…
apparently… reconnecting to the way
and the truth and the life, by choice,
turning back to the global cosmic reality.
Awe.
As we agree touching anything…
seeing seems believed hormonally.
Apparition, as a reified image of a scene,
let us imagine using words alone, asking,

in hope of clarity, focus, point of preaching
single point attention pre paid, point made
look away from the legerdemain stream
of stories told to children, seriously since
ever there was a wizard learned in ritual
lost when the walls of the temple fell,

as witnessed by a professional watcher
seeing as from an NPC,
all the setting of this scene…

Here we be,
you and me,
I am thinking you exist, as yet
you may not, you know, my then,

when I choose to use my worth,
my treasure in this life, my ready
made mind making - up, up know,

you know? We declare, I do, so go

find the next lie you continue to hold
self-evidently true, by virtue of you

thinking it, filtered through all you
hold true by rule of laws, nature
and nature's god, empowering
time to carry our burdens,

letting go the unclean spirit,
the devouring demonstratives,

chicanery for entertainment, magic,
imagine that we all know what magic

is, or was in olden times, when men
called prophets and soothsayers
foretold according to the signs,

auspices, gut symbolic evidence, woe
or weal, go forth, and conquer,
take all that belongs to mind,

leave all that lingers in the brain
to run the works while we seek

true demonstratives, imperative
upon us, indeed, not word alone.

Seeing the whole accumulated known
universe infested as Josephus's
translator saw Jerusalem,

as the last temple fell… ask

is this that, or was that all command
decision from the power that denies
free will, as if you have no choice
to know, or remain unknowing,

innocently ignorant, never having
certainly set the angle's azimuth

at the level of the reader's witness
plain, across time and chance
through now in no time to then,

when the first scribe, wrote
the first rule, from memory.

Fear God and keep his imperatives.

Oh? Exoterica, meanings of things,
Thoth thoughts sought and found,
given Solomon by Sheba, we may say,

and you might agree, thinking we know.

We may believe we do, but believing
does not make what we believe true.

----------- The art in thinking I know
imagining, bringing to mind another's

reason for, cause of declaration, you know?

Seven ideas more twisted and tangled
than was the first fear of falling away
from present tense, now and then,

true, as seen
from an innocent by-stander,
POV witnessed
in the storied way, read, you see.
Ready, now, this is ever after that.



iii.
Thoughts on stores of knowns
to be remembered, as knowns shown,
on stone as images graven 3-d as seen
projected vision reflected in or on or from,
we, a we of you and me, at minimum,
we know a reason for the ag-agag

hesitation to keep breathing, in and out,
in time's long line of stored reasons for
by the agreement grouping pattern,
we
see, instances, occurences, accumulate
interruptedly, we have witnessed intial loss

of significance in ISIS, as a sound said since
ancient of days, only the redhat entities,
can be imagined to hold as appearing
clearly evincing any lie disputing true
declaratives, ala Aimee, This is that,

the mystical money making leading
into twistedness too tight to loose,
chosen wholeness, usnonothern,
select elect
we, the participants in this epic effort
to take away a veil, an artifice,
effectual ignorance imposed
supposed to focus the chi
cognate in any warring li-e
see, we coknow so many
mysterious reasons
for faith we hold true, in word,
indeed, in wisdom tested, twice,

nice and fine, infinite instances
of yes,
that exact thing, exactly re-enacting

iv.
- dingalingading

So, Mickey, how does it feel,
to be free, in the public domain,

whistle for a while,
think in tinkling musing, using
musical wills given patterns, remind

remember, becoming a knower of un-
known knowns one may know now, free,

BHATTACHARJEE , calls me, no lie,
at yon line end, I am called by my
Psychiatrist, attending to my
mental health, interrupting
my fantasy with tinkling chimes,
actually reminding me, my calendar
is written on wrong, BHATTACHARJEE
points out, to me,
I see, I said, yet
now… that can never matter, save
I use it poetically licentiously.

Mickey Mouse excuse, per use, in spirit,
in mind, exercise in more than one may
think, or ask, yet,
asking while accepting good enough
is enough to use,

making do, getting by on minimums,
most winters, remembering when we
were poor and made permanent refugees

For Jesus sake, then Allah's, the science
of the mind warring reasons for all wars,

money loved for money's sake, interesting
times, seasons measured, emperically,
as once was the writing only spoken,

dreamers dreamed, interpreters told,
children listened and imagined knowing

knowing growing beyond our fears,
through oral obligations required
for acceptability, remember
require order normalize
actualize eventuation

right now, we used
use to say, indeed, we think…

we know what group pledges,
oral recitations of golden rules,
and repetitionings for deliverance
do
due to oaths long made self evident,
We all swore, on our own life's pledge
of aliegiance to a Socratic republic form
of mental norm tyranny socially entertained,

aggregational wedomains accrue as we imagine,
herds of ruminants,
packs of canines,
prides of felines,
hordes of rodents,
flocks of flying scavengers

spirits, characters, powers that seem

and oceans and wind
and hard and soft
and flex and snap bo'
realization, at an insistent, knot, loosed
thread of all my reasoning remaining, why
should I imagine your reasoning drawing wrong
excuses for the uses words are put to, in real life.

Enchanted evenings,
entrancing commands taken to this point
imperitive
we've made up a mind, an awesome form
informative up to a point, instantiated from
as crossing over or under or through a rough
time
to come alive.



v.
-------------
The engined pens imaginable now,
since Mickey was animated and empowered
demonstrate the weapons of war in imagination,
are not invincible to pens as powered mind makers
we use to take an objective
position, while beguiled by the politics. used
to represent the glorified reification function
children used to make Velveteen Rabbits real,
as ways are made where no ways were,
rabbit trails through Jungleland,
fringes
on a red-haired Judaic kid,
at Disneyland, when it was imagined
by many
to be
at that moment
of American greatness, again

The Happiest Place in the World, which is small,
after all, who am I
to be heard
by the likes of you, first world tech users
of the freest reusable theories
of worth,
in the opensource public domain,
aggie testing 'tractor attention
pull of mindshare in the moment
measured priceless
in mental connection tension,
held for a thousand line test, hook

!Þorny issue, misperceived precept, clearly shown
evincing convincingly old monstorous enormities…
now, knowing where this is all going, those
are powerless meaningless metadata
in free will mindspacetimes
fabricated using ready readers ready to bet the worth

of the push to the pull, ag ag agree aggressively

loose dis-belief, use the kid inside, the pain, sorry,
there, there, that kid, you did call a ***, sorry,
I did not know your grandma had the tat.

Thank you for writing, but your reason for war
is still invalid in the Peaceful Kingdom, on Earth

as expected,
any day now, right, any day  

vi.
---------------
Recalcitrant inculcations,
kicking back at prideful goads,

go up, thou bald head, go up,
yes, there were such sayings,

seeing the smoke of evil deeds,
world witnessed, as all wars are now,
we need only wish to see, and see we do,
and when the algorithms insist testing we do
persists to show some interest, agging on,
test me more,

how much is the attention paid a thousand books,
were one to pay for it with social interaction,
participation in the great debates,

do old lies live, or do old patterns follow
seasonal guidelines in cosmic time.

Today, I watched a pine tree grow,
where I had stairs built between stones,
and I wondered how few folks have such scales.

Today, I watched a gopher clearing a hole,
where the old swing set holds a hammock,
and I wondered how many folks have such scales.

Relatively complex life goes on
whether many notice, or only you.


vii.
Reasons used by or
imagined, in story, Cortez,
came from Cuba, Night of Sorrows,

Spanish Reconquista Minds for War,
Jesuitical ferver birthed already,
whither came the terror of wars reason

cannibalists, ritual abnormal geomancy

take the captives for sacred making,

meet the explosive force of knowing
how magic really functions in life,

explosive possibilities, any shred
of evidence, any knowledge lost,

comes to mind once more under
upright standing armies of guardians
called by justice to know the truth,
and defend against the hatred
sown and grown to righteous
use of hate, to spite the peace made.

Each season. From total war to total war,
as our mindspacetime presents itself,

as the end in urban centers draws near,
hear the prophets of doom, doubt not,

but believe the idea that believes
Donald's team is GOD's good side.

But peace passing the weight of destruction,
remains taken for free… peace of mind,
during games of holy terror, with nukes.

viii.
If we were to cease warring,
stop where we are, empty our prisons,
and distribute the national debt to the planet
as credit due to generational over payment,
-- when warriors learn the terms, winning
having
being done, indeed, first, merest gentle
touch of the individuating brush,
by which bards bid characters
appear as seen in vision,
here, where evidence emerges
feel *** heros are being called to arms,
for truth, or old reasons holy folk use for war,

Oy, the Reacher, Tom Cruise sized, on TV,
warning my god mocking spirit by assuring me
truth is not mocked, as we agree, God must be
truth or nothing ever is, and we know,
something happened,
e-motives hate
for peacemakers acting where no peace
was imaginable, while
in an orderly state of ego, epluralized.

The End of Everything happens every day,
each one bit of our whole wedom, has
one chance to wake, and be, doing your
bit in the skit, until tomorrow,
accepting no anxious thought
no sense of seriousness, no sense
of war being a functioning solution
to certainty that madness must be hated,
and gentleness despised…
hush the focal point in courage,
become the peace past next
hush a negative imperative,
magic, settled, taken
chance to smother
force of hatred
fanned, in frontal mirrors,
encrusted darkly using alchemy
of uses fruited knowings held close.

The game is played for money.
Life wins, when money becomes
significant of nothing, one way
or another,

breathe, or

call all peace gone,
and find a global mind, kind of like,

this one, deterrence spending reflective terror,
revenge, righteous vengeance, now is ours,
say the defenders
of the faith that war works.

Peace in one mind is just like peace in mine,
thinking breathe

ix.

Nay, stay thy will.
Warring creature pushing me,
making me grit my teeth and imagine,

at the core of all a man stands for, imagining
heros from prophecy and umph from many trials,
all to win the part, where the head of the snake,
is spoken of as did the messenger from perfection,

when resetting the whole idea we agree to be leaving
possible with the laws of physics and common sense,

full spectrum, standard bell curves among wordform
information entities used with muses to expand
bubbles of innocense and pockets of ignorance.

As the will of our wedom is done, on earth,
in the air we breathe and have our behavior in.
As wise as all serpentine forms.
Harmless as doves, in our right minds.
A companion prequel used as we yoost to imagine, using absinths

influence by Aldous Huxley The Perrenial Philosophy
Fay Slimm Oct 2019
Whispers from wine-coloured moonlight have now
blighted old river grass.
No-one will pass by this flood's blistering chorus of
frustrated past outcry.
The waters stay silted with years-long, war-seared
bitterness as each ill-timed
Peace talk crumbled to finish killed by conclusions
of coated top-brass.


Dreams of the tortoise-shelled butterfly days faded
long before turbulent rapids
Drew young men and women toward battles over
naught but misapplied fears.
Lifetimes float hormonally by in river-side history
as pride's facade of need for action.
Forces of folk press-mustered, taught naught but
allegiance to mindless leads.


Listening I hear victims' pathetic exits still weeping
regrets for conceding to hate.
Wisps of blood-to-come days surface from tainted
mould as no war sits easily.
What happens when, hit by flows of violence peace
can no longer struggle for gain ?
Reddened under-tow of sacrifice rises from victims
caught in sightless obedience.
Unfaithful marital transgressions
self admitted indictment,
crime and punishment,
no longer think high lee
entailing no mister re: demeanors,
I searingly weathered

(George by bushed, albeit thankfully,
no unwanted child left behind),
nonetheless one unforgettable
indelible, execrable, and abominable
professedly owned his
civil warring battle of life

transgressions undeservedly heaped
(Uriah hit about that)
(carnal feral hormonally seething
gone astray nightwalks)
woven by basket of deplorable
emotionally painful selfish object lesson

forever etched upon mine psyche
(left by one bobbing sponge -
cheeses crust station of his life
within sea of human life now
affixes moniker re: mister *****)
inflicted courtesy yours truly

said marital indiscretion (philandering)
one among many issues discussed,
during treatment plan earlier today
February eighteenth 2020
concerning complex edifice
regarding mein kampf

existential bleak house
(figuratively crowded cheek to jowl)
with and hard times
fraught with many
unattained great expectations
unwittingly accepts psychological fallout

(among kissing kith and kin,
a shellfish chicken and hen thing for sure),
despite years elapsed ex post facto
deploying, incorporating, narrating, signifying...
narcissistic, opportunistic, and phlegmatic
self incriminating doom
visualize deus ex machina

betrayal rendered adopted smugness
invariably set in motion domino effect,
whereby emotional alienation
devastation, humiliation, maturation, suppuration
(yoking impossible mission
to shuck off penitence, the price to pay),

thus rightfully, truthfully, and veritably...
ably, readily, and willingly
allowing, enabling, and providing
incomplete resolution, (hence iresolution)
thwarting rancor thy deux daughters
(livingsocial many time zones distant)
embark quest to guide their own

metaphorical maiden voyaging ships of state
countless transpired hours
at counseling facility, where poetic papa
aired and mulled over bothersome
anguish to complete requisite treatment plan
to receive psychiatric appointment
next (and last) Tuesday of February 2020.
ghost queen Apr 2024
we love so differently
you and me
what is that you need
safety or fantasy
a list of unmet wants
recanted endlessly
oblivious of your needs
sabotaging us
as you fluctuate hormonally
i’m exhausted
i close the door
and leave
Laura V.
A cold wintry January 53rd, 2021
at Highland Manor apartments
picturesque snow covered landscape
safely ensconced within Unit B44,
we (yours truly and wife)
occupy bedroom and
television room respectively
comfortably numb and toasty warm
at sixty degrees Fahrenheit
courtesy climate controlled environment.

I practice crafting poetry
(seeking posthumous fame)
while the spouse busies herself
channel surfing putting
down remote control
after espying satisfactory movie
(Fatal Attractions),
about which she knows
every single detail,
and can rattle offer personal tidbits
about cast of actors and actresses.

Aforementioned regular routine
predictable until
onset rites of spring,
where warm weather perfect balm
to allow, enable and provide
antidote to existential woes
coping with being quarantined,
though sensing optimism
regarding president Joe Biden
green lighting living social pursuits
possibly revisiting
following favorite pastime.

Recalling contra dancing
as palliative against bashfulness
life as high school wallflower served me
without any budding female friendships
until lo… agent tulle nudge, yes
my mother over mollycoddled
then uprooted me
mein kampf familiar
bedrock level road terrain,
which venue offered groundswell

to blossom forth into
golden sterling resplendent rod
of natural equipoise,
(an unbiased opinion) and balance
with freestyle improvisational swinging motions
unchained from moors of formality
lit figurative saint elmo’s
Sesame Street Big Bird
winging fiery dance
allowing, enabling and

providing shy awkward self
during his young adulthood
to cast away four ever
self embroidered handsome
straight as an arrow
naturally high as a kite young guy
buzzfeeding like yellow jacket
liberating spontaneity
that je ne sais quoi joie vivre
clamoring headlong toward pollination
healthy packing heat overflowing

testosterone bin laden well nigh
erupting pistol (stay man)
toward opposite gender,
whereby bravado donned as key
to *** field of whet dreams
fostering initial albeit late blooming
roll in the hay hormonally
rooted rutting squeal!
I tip figurative hat to the late Cathy Robertson, longtime (lifetime) Thomas Paine Unitarian Church member, who unwittingly and quite casually made mention of contra dancing, which inopportunely, inextricably, and inaccurately linkedin to The Contras who were various United States backed and funded right-wing rebel groups that were active from 1979 to 1990 in opposition to the Marxist Sandinista Junta of National Reconstruction Government in Nicaragua, which had come to power in 1979 following the Nicaraguan Revolution.

After a hiatus of scores of years,
I in tandem with the missus
returned to a venue
March 14th, 2024
which Thursday night dances
currently held at Commodore
John Barry Arts and Cultural Center
6815 Emlen Street,
Philadelphia, PA 19119
that not only served
as palliative per bashfulness,
but even remedied
yours truly resigned himself living social
as a Norwegian bachelor farmer.

Life as a high school wallflower served me
analogous as The Idler Wheel Is Wiser
Than the Driver  of the *****
and Whipping Cords
Will Serve You
More Than Ropes Will Ever Do
without any budding female friendships
until lo… a gent tulle mandate
from my late mother uprooted me
from mein kampf

familiar bedrock level road terrain
(analogous regarding how
a duck takes to water -
meaning I identified said aerobic
rather cardiovascular workout
as an inherent quick study),
which venue offered a groundswell
of interpersonal opportunities
(preferably with persons of female gender)
to blossom forth

into golden sterling resplendent rod
of natural equipoise
(this an unbiased opinion) and balance
with freestyle élan begetting
improvisational swinging motions
unchained from the moors of formality
and lit figurative Saint Elmo’s
Sesame Street fiery dance
allowing, enabling and providing
this shy awkward self

during his young (emerging) adulthood
to cast away four ever
thy self embroidered handsome
straight as an arrow
naturally high as a kite young guy
buzzing like a yellow jacket,
thus liberating spontaneity
that je ne sais quoi joie vivre
clamoring headlong toward venus
from healthy pistol packing

overflowing bin laden
well nigh testosterone
erupting male member
toward opposite gender,
whereby bravado donned as key
to *** field of whet dreams
fostering initial albeit late blooming
roll in the hay hormonally
rooted rutting squeal.

Back in the day,
(when genders binary)
with nary a care
in the webbed wide world
I ate, breathed and lived
for contra dancing
experiencing social anxiety
and profusely sweaty palms
every mile of the way
(twenty door to door dash)

from (at that time)
324 Level Road
to then designated site
at Summit Presbyterian Church
6757 Greene Street,
Philadelphia, PA 19119,
where love's labor lost
found yours truly
engaged in pitched losing battles
introducing yours truly

(even after expiating my carnal sins)
to romantic liabilities incurred
while displaying comedy of errors,
when risking a overtures to ask
an attractive woman to be my partner
not only for one dance,
but also to explore the parameters
of fun two people can experience
while wearing clothes.

— The End —