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Dipansh Jan 2017
it wasn't your hair I fell in love with whilst ignoring your smile..
it wasn't your clothes I fell in love with whilst ignoring your style..
it wasn't your mind I fell in love with whilst ignoring your heart..
it wasn't your poems I fell in love with whilst ignoring your art..
it wasn't your letters I fell in love with whilst ignoring your tweets..
it wasn't your **** I fell in love with whilst ignoring your teats..
it wasn't your knowledge I fell in love with whilst ignoring your quirks..
it wasn't your presence I fell in love with whilst ignoring your pause..

it wasn't a woman I fell in love with whilst ignoring her soul.. it wasn't a girl I fell in love with but a human whole..

I know full well, you're as silly as you're sensible..
I know full well, you're scared of our journey uphill...
I know full well, you're afraid you won't satisfy me..
I know full well, you have left your heart with me..
I know full well, in you I can trust..
I know full well, there's God n he'll be just..

I do hear you cry.. I  do feel your pain.. I wince when u ache.. Babe, i promise... This won't go in vain..!

it wasn't your laughter I fell in love with whilst ignoring your tears.. The day we're together as one, is not far, not far, for it nears..

~ D.
Thomas Maltuin Aug 2015
Hey! pal, don't make me your idol
just leave me alone
you'll be on your own, but I
don't care, that's not my problem
take it elsewhere
quit breathing my air, and just
die for all i care

love bleeds love
hate, cold indifference

it seems that the hero check-mated
his pawn for silent relief
consumating belief that they're

Strong enough, to get by alone
he's turned off his phone
the pawns pleading unknown for his

help

hey! this is the song of your season
its based on your reason ing
reckoning eyes
ignoring the skies
as we stare at our feet
just ignoring the beat of that

thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
thump thump

Hey! pal, I'm trying to help you
I know what you've been through
I've cut off my hands too and
I know I've a right to your problems
I'm telling you
that you are mine too
and I will pursue because

Love bleeds love
hate, cold indifference

well it seems that the victim's persuaded
his defector is jaded
his soul's been blockaded when

the wounded hears that his friend needs a breath
he mistakes it all
for a wish for his
death

hey! this is the song of your season
its based on your reason ing
reckoning eyes
ignoring the skies
as we stare at our feet
just ignoring the beat of that

thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
thump thump

Hey! now you're both in the wrong
this isn't your song
and the melodies long er than
either could ever realize
both need to survive
for peace they should strive because
love bleeds love

hate is bred in cold indifference

well, it seems that both sides have traded
all the love in the world
for cold bitter hatred

all the suffering ignored of
the bleeding and pleading
souls that implored you to

stop

hey! this is the song of your season
its based on your reason ing
reckoning eyes
ignoring the skies
as we stare at our feet
just ignoring the beat of that

thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
thump thump

Well it seems that the  spectator failed you
He wants to help you along,
sing you his song but his
words failed to silent screams
as they were cut from his side
he bled and he cried (or died)
reticence gave way to indifference...
two friends
HEAR THE COMPLETED SONG HERE:
https://soundcloud.com/nataliejcopeland/you-said*

You said, “Why’d you fold my clothes?
I don’t want anyone
taking care of me.”
You turned back to your razor,
ignoring
the sick-stained sheets.

You said, “Let’s just watch tv.
I don’t know anyone
when I’m asleep.”
You turned back to the wall,
ignoring
the two empty feet.

But that wasn’t where
the worst
pain
was felt,
Cuz I didn’t think
that my warm
heart
could melt
All the icy hands
That her cold heart
had dealt.
But then you said,
“That’s all broken.”
And you said,
“That’s all dead.”

You said “I can’t love again.
I don’t want anyone
wrapped up in my fate.”
Well, we turned back to our peaches,
ignoring
how we knew I would wait.

They said, “Is that your pretty girlfriend?”
And you said, “She’s so pretty…”
And that was the end
Cuz we turned back into clowns,
ignoring
the message we sent.

If you wanna know
the worst
pain
I felt
It’s when I lost hope that
my warm
heart
could melt…
Cuz the final blow
that cracked my world
was dealt
When you said…
When you said..
When you said…
When you said…
…. Nothing.

You said, “I’ll still be your friend
When he comes sweepin’ you
offa your feet.”
You put out your cigarette,
ignoring
my tears on the street.
HEAR THE COMPLETED SONG HERE:
https://soundcloud.com/nataliejcopeland/you-said
meg Jul 2018
My heart won't let me forget
people that have made me happy.

It seems to extend it's claws
and force them up my throat,
begging me to mention those
who I have tried so hard to leave.

I don't think I'll ever forget you.
I won't forget what you said.
I can't forget the broken
memories you left me.

I stopped doing what I loved to
feed onto affection that I had to fight for.

I went so long ignoring sunsets
my toes tied themselves to the tide
so all I had left was a lost freedom
that followed and laughed at my own doom.

I've been holding volcanos
in my eyes and lava in my heart,
I won't let you break me again.

I won't give you a place in my life
if all you do is prance around in the
ashes of my broken heart, dancing
to the sounds of my tear drops against glass.

I dream of you, even though
you're lost in my memories.
Your lack of love was fabricated
by my broken heart and mended into
loyalty and hope that you could change .

I wish I could just slowly let you go.
I wish I could slowly **** you with kisses
and send you off to the sky.
Maybe I'd find you in the stars.

There is so much beyond our scars,
beyond the lines that tangle
themselves around and
over our bodies,we break so easily,
but that's only since we love so hard.

I'll still miss you every sunrise
and find you in each sunset,
but I'll whisper to the moon
I want to go to the stars each
night till I'm in space.
first poem i wrote in a month
Terry O'Leary Sep 2015
1
Though still within our infancy,
we strive to thrive, but woefully
we flash and flaunt our 'primacy',
display our trophies pridefully.

Our terra firma ecstasy
destroys survival's harmony,
lays waste to life on land and sea.
Mankind, thy name is vanity!

By doubting Nature's regnancy,
defying laws with levity,
we strain our spheroid's symmetry
(perhaps a fatal fallacy?)

for, swallowed in the 'world of we',
we feed on vain insanity
with thoughts beyond eternity -
so strange when looked at mortally.

No use to seek a remedy
ensconced in ancient prophecy
for if not handled skillfully,
as clay we'll pay the penalty.

                              2
The Moguls rule with cruel decree,
control the crowds like puppetry,
pursuing greed addictively
with no accountability.

The wind, it reeks of Royalty
(awash in waves of perfidy)
while blowing ’cross the peasantry
(eclipsed in clouds of treachery).

The Queen, well steeped in snobbery,
sits, preening proud Her pedigree,
on throne of sculpted ebony
while sipping Sect immodestly;

to sate Her Regal Majesty,
a caviar clad canapé
is served with golden cutlery
by maidens bent submissively.

The King is bailed from bankruptcy
by Knaves who hoodwink artfully
the down-and-outer evictee
who wallows in their lenity.

Forsooth, the Money Monarchy
exalts the dollar dynasty
engaged in highway robbery
by Peacocks plumed in finery.

Yes, Jesters and the Fools agree
to truckle to duplicity
and laugh about it witlessly.
Long live the peon's penury!

                          3
To champion an oddity
(like two times twelve is fifty three)  
one reaches to theology
through paths of circularity.

In bygone trials of travesty
the doubters, draped in blasphemy,
endured the pain and agony
inflicted by the papacy.

Inspired by the Trinity
fanatics bent cosmology
in geocentric fantasy
while Bruno burned for heresy;

and aged women, randomly
accused of wicked witchery
by justice framed in infamy,
were racked and shown no clemency

That epoch of credulity
(when savants fostered sorcery
and practiced ancient alchemy)
arose in dark age quackery

as clerics dripping piety
(while raging, raving rabidly)
pervaded thralled society
with callous inhumanity;

'repent', they bellowed, 'verily,
forsake the world's iniquity,
live lives of want and chastity,
and give your gelt to God through me'.

                    4
The Masters make a mockery
of freedom and democracy
by holding down the uppity,
released from shackled slavery,

now fettered in a factory
else strewn across the Bowery,
still chained in bonds of bigotry,
immersed in seas of poverty.

And colliers, tapping balefully
in sunken-mine solemnity,
yet thrum a mournful monody
some call the digger's elegy.

To children, pale and raggedy
(behind a day of drudgery),
the boss man, oh so gallantly,
bestows a penny, niggardly;

though some are fed (belatedly),
their eyes recede in apathy
while bellies bulge, inflatedly,
with mothers watching, wretchedly.

When met with health adversity
or broken bone infirmity,
the pauper dangles helplessly
with no insurance policy;

and those engulfed in lunacy
are ailing blobs left floating free
in ******-dream obscurity -
a mired madhouse odyssey.

Ignoring mankind's unity,
the rich and poor dichotomy
breeds dismal doomed finality,
eventual nihility.

                        5
Renewing days of chivalry,
wild warriors fighting valiantly
bring freedom neath the gallows tree
while blending blood and burgundy

to toast the slaughtered enemy,
and so convince the colony
to cede with smile on bended knee
and yield her diamonds, silk and tea.

At first they call the cavalry
and then again the infantry,
so proudly primped in panoply,
with arms from finest armory

(embraced in hands so tenderly
bestow benign atrocity) -
and soon atomic weaponry
will extirpate posterity.

                          6
Misusing high technology
(to feed the face of gluttony)
depletes our Rock of energy,
now slowly dying thermally.

Our gadgets breathing CFC
fuel ozone holes' immensity
while cloud bursts, raining acidly,
wilt woods in their entirety,

and rivers, tainted chemically,
polluted biologically,
refill our cups methodically
and drown our souls organically.

Adjusting genes mechanically
may well blot out the bumble bee
annulling fruits' fecundity,
but brings big bucks reliably.

We wager perpetuity
to revel momentarily
in shadow-like obscurity
ignoring the futility,

but if we bet unknowingly
on fickle fate's contingency
and thereby act haphazardly
we're doomed to lose the lottery.

                 7
The modern day bureaucracy
abuses trust egregiously ,
embeds itself in obloquy
and offers no apology.

It paints the past in reverie
to camouflage the tendency
to strip away our privacy
which paves the path to tyranny.

With earlobes lurking furtively
that listen surreptitiously,
and eyeballs peering piercingly
we've lost cerebral sovereignty,

and those who dare to disagree
must hide away in secrecy
else crowd a black facility
(with water board anxiety).

                  8
Yes, sans responsibility,
our marble in this galaxy
will crumble in catastrophe
ere ever reaching puberty…
ajp Nov 2014
How do I ignore you when
you're right next to me?
God ****** we keep bumping elbows.
I can't blast my music
loud enough to tune out
your presence.
Mitchell Duran Nov 2013
It was 98'.
No, it was 99'.
That was the year.
Yeah, that was the year.

I had just landed abroad and knew no one.
Well, I was there with my girlfriend, Page.

I knew her.

We had to get out of the states.
There was nothing for us there.
We were drowning in that nothingness - that lacking future.

Cookie cutters everywhere.

Everything I saw was like an outline of something that had already happened.
I couldn't sleep.
I couldn't ****.
I could barely call my parents to let them know what I was doing.

Nothing really.

Floating downward like a leaf broken from its stem.
I was scared.
I'll admit it.
I was terrified of the next four years.
Twenty-five seemed so far away and so close, all at the same time.

We had a found an apartment to live in while in the U.S.
We were lucky because people we met later on said it was hell trying to find a place after arriving.
I was never too good at that stuff anyway.
I always felt like people were trying to cheat me or something.

It was small.
You would have said you loved it, but secretly hated it.
One could barely stand in the shower.
Want to spread your arms wide?

Forget about it.

There was a balcony though and you could watch the street traffic from above.
People look so small when your high up.
Down the street, there was a large theatre where they filmed movies.
I rarely saw them shooting, but I could tell it was a good place to.
It was beautiful at night when the lampposts would flicker on, orange spilling on the street.
Everything was damp in the Fall when we first arrived.

"What do you want to do today?" I asked her. She was laying face down on the bed.
Whenever she was hungover, she would do that.
All the covers and pillows over her face, blocking out the world and its light.
I did the same thing, so I couldn't really say much.
We were hungover a lot those first couple months.
Then came the jobs and everything changed...mostly.

She moaned something that I couldn't understand.
I was standing by the window, staring at the pigeons and crows perched on the roof across from us.
They had made a little nest under one of the shingles.
Clever little ******'s.

"Look at those things," I said.
The coffee I was drinking was bitter and made from crystals.
It gave me a headache, but it was cheap and we were broke.
I stepped back to get a better look at their nest and knocked an empty beer bottle around.

She moaned again and rose up from bed, kind of like a stretching kitten or a cat.
Her back was arched like a crescent moon and she stunk of ***** and Sprite.
The blankets were twisted and crumpled and she was tangled in them like a fly in a spiders web.
I went into the kitchen and poured out my coffee, thinking of what to do with the day.

"Breakfast?" she asked me from bed.
My back was to her, but I knew she wanted me to make it.
I put the electric stove on and opened the refrigerator.

"No eggs," I said back to her, "I'll be right back."

She moaned and slithered back into bed.
I threw my jacket and slippers on and made my way downstairs.

"Dobry den," I said to the cashier.
He was a tiny vietnamese man with a extremely high pitched voice.
I struggled to stifle a laugh every time I came in.

"Dobry den," he said back, sounding like air escaping from a balloon.

"Dear God," I thought, "How does his voice box do it?"

I went straight to the eggs, pretending to cough.
All around me were packaged sweets and rotten vegetables and fruit.
There were half loaves of brown, stale bread wrapped lazily in thin plastic.
Canned beans, noodle packets, and cardboard infused orange juice lined the shelves.
Where were the ******* eggs?
We needed milk too.
Trying to drink that crystalized coffee without it was torture.
I don't even know how I did it earlier.
"I must be getting used to the taste..." I thought.

I opened the single refrigerator they had in the place.
It was stocked with loosely packaged cheese, milk, beer, and soda.
There they were, those ******* eggs, right next to the yogurt.
I looked at the expiration date of a small carton of chocolate milk and winced.
"Someone could die here if they weren't careful," I whispered to myself.

"Everyding O.K.?" I heard the cashier squeak behind me.
I turned and nodded and showed him the eggs.
He was suspicious I was stealing something.
It was ironic.
I put the eggs on the counter and handed over what the cash register told me.

"There you go," I said and handed him the 58 crown in exact change.

"Děkuji," he peeped.

His voice sounded like a stuffed animal.
I nodded, smiled, and quickly got the hell out of there.

"You know the guy that works at the shop across the street?" I asked the body still in bed.
Well, she was up now, back up against the wall with her laptop on her lap.
"You mean the guy that has the voice of a little girl?"
"Exactly. I was just in there - getting these eggs - and I nearly laughed in his face."
"That's mean," she frowned, staring at her laptop.
Many of our conversations were with some kind of electronic device in between us.
We needed to work on that.
"I didn't laugh at him directly."
She smiled and nodded and moved down the bed a little more.
Only her head was resting on the pillow.
I cracked two eggs and let them sizzle there in the butter and the salt.

"So, what do you want to do today?" I asked Page, "It's not too cold out. We could go on a walk."
"Where?"
"I don't know. Over the bridge and maybe down by the water."
"It's going to be so cold," she shivered.
"I was just out there in slippers and a t-shirt and I was fine."
"That's because you're so big. I'm tiny. I don't get as much blood flow."

I flipped the two eggs and looked down at them.
Golden and burnt slightly around the edges.
******* perfect.
Now, just gotta wait a little on the other side and make sure to not let the yolk harden.
I hated that more than anything in the world.
Well, that and hearing **** poor excuses like it being too cold.
It was nice out.
She'd be fine.

"Come on," I sighed. I did that a lot. "It'll be fun."
She looked up at me from her computer with a dead look in her eye.
"What?" I asked her.
"You're such a...nerd," she said.
"No I'm not."
"You're so weird. Some of the things you say sometimes..."
"Like what?"
"Let's go on a walk."
She exaggerated the word walk.
I laughed and knew I was being a little too excited about a walk.
"Yeah. So? What are you doing? You're just laying there doing nothing."
"It's my day off," she scoffed, jokingly.

We were unemployed.
Everyday was a day off.
This was not something to bring up.
It was touchy subject.
One had to go about it...delicately.

"We need to find jobs," I stated, "And we can probably ask around or look for signs in windows."

"Oh JESUS," she gagged, coughing and diving back under the covers.

"I'm just thinking ahead so we can stay here. There's got to be something out there we can do."

"Like what?" she asked, her voice muffled by blankets.

"I don't know...something," I mumbled, trailing off as I flipped one of the eggs, "Perfect."

After breakfast, Page finally got out of bed and took a shower.
I tried to sneak in there with her, but, like I said before, one could barely fit themselves in there.
We compromised to have *** on the bed, though I did miss doing it in the shower.
As Page got dressed, I watched her slip those thin black stockings on, half reading a magazine.
I had gotten a subscription to The Review because I was trying to become a writer.
I thought, maybe if I read the stuff getting published - even the bad **** - it'll help.
Later, I realized, this was a terrible idea, but I enjoyed the magazine all the same.
Page finished getting dressed.
I jumped into whatever clothes were on the floor and didn't stink.
Then, we were out the door on Anna Letenske street, looking at the tram, downhill.


"I can see my breath," Page said, "It's cold..."

"Alright," I said as both of us ran across the street, "It's a little cold."

"But it's ok because I'm glad were out of the house."

"If we would have festered there any longer, we would have stayed in there all day."

"And missed this beautiful day," she said mocking me, putting both of her arms in the air.

The sky was gray and overcast and a single black crow flew over us, roof to roof.
No one was out, really.
It was Sunday and no one ever really came out on Sundays.
From the few czech friends I had, they explained to me this was the day to get drunk and cook.

"Far different then what people think in the States to do," I remember telling him.
"What do you do, my friend?" he had asked. He always called me my friend.
It was a nice thing to do since we had only known each other a couple weeks.
"Well," I explained to him, "Some people go to church to pray to God."
He laughed when I said this and said, "HA! God? How many people believe in God there?"
I had heard through the news and some Wikipedia research Prague was mostly atheist.
"A good amount, I'm pretty sure."
"That's silly," he scoffed, "Silly is word, right?"
"Yep. A word as any other."
"I like that word. What else do they do on Sunday?"
"A lot of people watch football. Not like soccer but with..."
"I know what you talk about," he said, cutting me off, "With the ball shaped like egg?"
I nodded, "Yes, the one with the egg shaped ball. It's popular in the Fall on Sundays."
"And what is Fall?" he asked.
You can see our relationship was really based on questions and answers.
He was a good guy, though I could never pronounce his name right.
There was a specific z in there somewhere where one had to dig their tongue under their teeth.
Lots of breath and vibration that Americans were never asked or trained to do.
Every czech I met said our language was a high contradiction.
Extremely complex in grammar and spelling, but spoken with such sloth.
I don't know if they used the word sloth.
I just like the word.

As we waited for the tram, I noticed the burnt orange and red blood leaves on the ground.
"Where had they come from?" I wondered. There were no trees on the street.
Must be from the park down the block, the one with the big church and the square.
There were lines of trees there used as leaning posts for the bums and junkies as they waited.
What they were waiting for, I never knew.
They just looked to be waiting for something.
I kicked a leaf into the street from the small island platform for the tram.
It swept up into the air a couple inches, and then instantly, was swept away by a passing car.
I watched as it wavered in the air, settling down the block in the middle of the road.

"Where's this trammm," Page complained.
Whenever it was cold out, her complaining level multiplied by a million.
"Should be coming soon. Check the schedule."
"Too cold," she said, "Need to keep my hands in my pockets."
I shook my head and looked at the schedule. It said it would be there at 11:35.
"11:35," I told her, still looking at the schedule. There was a strange cross over the day of Sunday.
"You mad?"
"No," I said turning to her, "I just want to have a nice day and its hard when you're upset."
"I'm not upset," she said, her teeth chattering behind her lips.
"Complaining I mean. We can go back home if it's really too cold. It's right there."
"No," she looked down, "Let's go out for a bit. I just don't know how long I'll last."
"Ok," I shrugged.
I looked up the street and saw our tram coming; number 11.
"There it is," I said.
"Thank God," Page exhaled, "I feel like I'm about to die."

Even the tram was sparse with people.
An empty handle of cheap liquor rattled in the back somewhere.
I heard it rock back and forth against the legs of a metal seat.
"Someone had a night last night," I thought, "Hope that's not mine."
We had gone to some dark bar with a lot of stairs going down - all I really recall.
Beer was so **** cheap there and there was always so much of it, one got very drunk easily.
I couldn't even really remember who we met or why we went there.
When everything's a blur in the morning you have two choices:
Feel guilty about how much you drank, lie around, and do nothing or,
Leave it be, try not to think about it, and try and find your passport and cell phone.

We made our transfer at the 22 and rode downhill.
Page looked like she was going to be sick.
Her sunglasses were solid black and I couldn't see her eyes, but her face was flushed and green.
"You alright?" I asked her.
"I'm fine," she said, "Just need to get off of this tram. Feel like I'm going to be sick."
"You look it."
"Really?" she asked.
"Yeah, a little bit."
"Let's get off at the park with the fountain. I don't want to puke here."
"Ok," I said, smiling, "We'll get off after this stop."

We sat down on one of the benches that circled around the fountain.
It was empty and Page was confused why.
"Maybe to save money?" I suggested.
"What? It's just water."
"Well, you gotta' pump the water up there and then filter it back out. Costs money."
"Costs crown," she corrected me.
"Same thing," I said, putting my arm around her, "There's no one here today."
"I know why," she stated, flatly.
"Why?"
"Because it's collllllllld and it's Sunday and only foreigner's would go out on a day like this."
I scanned the park and noticed that most of the faces there were probably not Czech.
"****," I muttered, "You may be right."
"I know I am," she said, wiggling her chin down into her jacket, "We're...crzzzy."
"We're what?" I asked. I couldn't hear her through her jacket.
She just shook her head back and forth and looked forward, not wanting to move from the warmth.
Dogs were scattered around the brown green grass with their owners.
Some were playing catch with sticks or *****, but others were just following behind their owner's.
I watched as one took a crap in the center of the walkway near the street.
Its owner was typing something on their phone, ignoring what was happening in front of him.
After the dog finished, the owner looked down at the crap, looked around, then slunk off.

"Did you see that?" I asked Page, pointing to where the owner had left the mess.
"Yeah," she nodded, "So gross. That would never fly in the states."
"You'd get shoulder tackled by some park security guard and thrown in jail."
"And be given a fat ticket," she said, coughing a little, "Let's get out of here."
"Yeah," I agreed, "And watch for any **** on the way out of here."

We made our way out of the park and down the street where the 22 continues on to the center.
"Let's not go into the center. Let's walk along the water's edge and maybe up to the bridge."
"Ok," I said, "That's a good idea." I didn't want to get stuck in that mass of tourists.
I could tell Page didn't either. I think she was afraid she might puke on a huddle of them.
We turned down a side street before the large grocery store and avoided a herd of people.
The cobble stones were wet and slick, glistening from a small sliver of sunlight through the clouds.
Page walked ahead.
Sometimes, when we walked downtown in the older parts of Prague, we would walk alone.
Not because we were fighting or anything like that; it was all very natural.
I would walk ahead because I saw something and she would either come with or not.
She would do the same and we both knew that we wouldn't go too far without the other.
I think we both knew that we would be back after seeing what we had wanted to see.
One could call it trust - one could call it a lot of things - but this was not really spoken about.
We knew we would be back after some time and had seen what we had wanted to.
Thinking about this, I watched her look up at the peeling paint of the old buildings.
Her thick black hair waved back and forth behind her plum colored pea coat.
Page would usually bring a camera and take pictures of these things, but she had forgotten it.
I wished she hadn't.
It was turning out to be such a beautiful day.

We made it to the Vlatva river and leaned over the railing, looking down at the water.
Floating there were empty beer bottles and plastic soda jugs.
The water was brown, murky, and looked like someone had dumped a large bag of dirt in there.
There was nothing very romantic about it, which one would think if you saw it in a picture.
"The water looks disgusting," Page said.
"That it does, but look at the bridge. It looks pretty good right
Matt Jursin Jan 2010
Lets stop n slam on somethin' shameful like war and anguish...
'Cause im pretty sure that tremendous termoil and suffering and starvation is the same in all languages...
But something that most of us will never know...
'Cause in this country you tend to grow a fat *** as you grow old.
Give this countries cold dark history a warm embrace, look it in the face!
All this killing, death, distruction, and disease...more war than peace!
Something most of us will never see, much less feel...Because ignoring it is so much easier.
We'd rather be pleasing ourselves than siezing the keys to this country!

Jump in.
Take a sunday drive for freedom.
Sunday football keeps you occupied...
Kicked back in the recliner, while others freeze in the name of the flag.
And your constitution.
And the human condition.
Patriotism is not pretty to the petty.
To...those getting rich, hand over fist...
On your...vacant homes, vacant jobs, and vacant votes.
While they vacate our education with more lousy legislation.

We get lazier and sleezier and sloppier.
We pass judgement on our fellow man...
While we let politicians pass bills that destroy this great land.
Hand over fist, hand over hand...one hand washes the other politicians ****.
These dinosaurs with their special interest agendas make me sick.

Stand up strait.
Look at me when I talk to you.

Dont turn a blind eye to all the bodies that once hung from loops...
Remember where we came from.
Re-write history like the bible.
Re-write war and peace.

We call soldiers "property of uncle sam".
Brainwashed to believe in 'the man' and his plans.
Slavery doesn't segregate anymore.
We're all in on this together.
This time.
We stand in unison.
All in on this together.
Revolution is freedom.
"I love this country...but f this government!"
ms reluctance Apr 2014
There
she goes
once again
ignoring life
as she falls in love with another song.

This fleeting love affair however brief,
is the only
time she feels
truly
free.
NaPoWriMo Day #18
Poetry form: Double Tetractys
Marília Galvão Mar 2015
Now I ask you to join me
Now you celebrate
Not being me. Not being you
Only Us for the great

UN
load!
DIS
arm!

EN
large!
OUT
side!

Some steps I will take
Be my guest
Pull your anchor
Out of the lake



We're
In the room
In the building
In the crowded city
In the country with thousands of cities
The country shares the continent with an enemy nation
The two rivals are carried round and round by the Earth's endless rotation
The Earth obeys the master’s magnetic line, burning since uncountable clock time
The sun is blind to his insignificance too, ignoring billions of other star mates, it can’t see through
Immeasurable it seems, magnifying! All of them such tiny little parts in one of Miss Milky’s arms
Some light years away there they are: Pinwheel, Cartwheel, Black Eye, Andromeda and Cigar
Unmeasurable it seems, humongous! All of them such a fading little part of the cosmos

There you are
Floating from a distance
Feel the empty ground
Drink from the fountain of existence

Still blind to insignificance?
Still convinced about the rightness of imposed beliefs?
Still judging others’ defects according to our pretentious and vain mind?
Still punching away the different, protecting the mold?
Still reinforcing illusory antagonism and insignia?
Still seeing only two sides?
Still holding to the pride?

Still
In the ******* room

Am I? Are you?
Let's try it again
“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness." Mark Twain
Äŧül May 2015
Oh how calmly she sleeps,
Carefree she always seems,
Wish she gets sweet dreams.
So glorious is her face always,
I wish her all the happiness,
All in the hue of brightness,
None equals her cuteness.

Oh hope never she weeps,
Clarity she wears in deeps,
With time get the -ve wiped,
Such the cutest nature heaps,
I'll be her guardian forever,
At heart Atul is just a loner,
Not just now - but forever.

Only by respecting my love for her,
A clear old identity is rediscovered,
I'm known as Atul Kaushal for a cause,
Singing hymns to my magical love,
Ignoring all those distractions,
And I am happy being with her,
Nirvana comes just for us.
My HP Poem #870
©Atul Kaushal
Daniel James Sep 2011
Neil was a nervous boy
Who no one ever noticed
He often knew the answer
But he very rarely spoke it.

He had an older brother, Jim,
Who was big and tall and strong.
He never said a word to Neil
Except – Eargh - “WRONG!”

So Neil took to playing
His own game of hide and seek
How long could he be silent for?
His record was a week.

“Wakey, wakey Neil!”
Said his dad one night at dinner.
“You had a quiz at school today –
I asked who was the winner?”

But just as Neil’s words
Were forming into song,
His brother flicked a pea at him
And said – Eargh – “WRONG!”

All his family laughed at him
But rather than go red,
Neil bit his fingernails
And disappeared upstairs.

He stayed up all night in his room
Plotting his revenge,
Still fiddling with his fingers
Till he’d bitten off the ends.

Morning came – he did not stop
He plotted and he fiddled.
He did not even notice that
His knuckles had been nibbled.

Back at school it carried on
Pinky – Ring – Index – Pointy – Thumb…
It wasn’t till the lunch bell rung
He noticed his two hands were – none!

“How embarrassing!” He sobbed,
“I ate my hands!” But did he stop?
“I can’t go back to class like this
Everyone will take the ****.”

Nails, fingers, knuckles, wrists
Then funny bones and both armpits
Head, shoulders, knees and toes –
That’s how nervous nibbling goes.

By the end of double biology
Neil was half the boy he used to be
And by the time he’d got back home
He was no more than a mouth and a nose.

“Neil’s quite quiet tonight,”
Said Neil’s dad, “Think he’s all right?”
“Oh he’ll be fine,” Said Neil’s mum,
“Probably just lots of homework on.”

That night, Neil’s mouth and nose
Packed a toothbrush and some clothes
And stepped out on to the moonlit road
Their plan: to run away from home.

They wandered round the town all night
And saw a hundred unseen sights
They saw the things most people miss
The shadows of unhappiness.

Till round a corner he found a group
Of kind old ladies making soup
“Oh dear, my dear, what’s up with you?
Has someone been ignoring you?”

Now Neil’s nose was so surprised
He stood there, mouth open wide -
One lady took this as her cue
And poured in some tomato soup.

“There you go dear, see – much better!
Your neck and belly back together.
Now be a dear and lend a hand –
This piece of bread’s for that old man.”

Though Neil was less than a head
He did his best and took the bread
And when the man said “Thank you friend.”
Neil’s face lit up again.

So Neil worked the whole night through
Making, stirring, pouring soup.
“My dear, why don’t you sit down now as
You’ve been on your feet for hours.”

And sure enough, below his head
Were shoulders knees and toes
“Oh!” Said Neil, “Hello, hello…
I missed you lot, where did you go?”

His foot said, “I was in your mouth.”
His knees – “We knocked each other out.”
His gut - "All eaten up with doubt.”
Till his whole being began to shout.

"WE are Neil! Stand up for us!
Or others will just miss us all -
And the boy in each of us
Who eats himself invisible."

So, next morning, back at home,
Neil put on his brightest clothes
And in his loudest voice he spoke
Of that long night that he left home.

And no one interrupted him –
Not mum, not dad, not even Jim,
And when he’d told of the whole night
Jim turned to him and said… “Oh. Awright.”
Omnis Atrum Aug 2012
Don’t think I’m trying to make or break you spirit
Just giving you a thought from my soul, if you would only hear it,
I can’t fully express (or repress) exactly what it is I think
So I babble incoherently and leave my decision on the brink.
I can’t decide if I should drop my pride and let the words flow
But a fear far worse rises of sad surprises and having to let you go,
So I stand back though I feel you close and I try to leave you be
But I know I can’t conceal or forget the words you’ve said to me.
So let me know (or find a way to show) exactly what I should do
But know as soon as I leave I find myself lost without you,
If you could just see a glimpse or peek for just a second of my mind
And what’s inside then you would know all thoughts for you are kind.
Only protecting (but not correcting) when I think I should step in
Because I’ve been in the same place and I’ve felt that hurt, my friend,
And I don’t want anyone to feel a pain so real, especially not you
Ignoring potential ulterior motives you know every word I say is true.
I swear without err that I couldn’t miss you more when you’re not here
But I’m fighting back fears when you’re holding me near whispering secrets in my ear,
And I’ve told you truly you hold more beauty that all of the stars in the night
Though you show it, I guess you don’t know it, or this knowledge you seem to fight.
(Who could forget her covered in glitter with sweet revenge in her eyes?)
But you’ve got this kid confused and blurry no matter how hard I try
To figure you out, your words still seem like an undecipherable code
That I try to map out and reconstruct in an abstract uneven ode.
I’m not playing, only saying that whether my words seep through or not
That you need not fear, because I’ll be here, my promise I haven’t forgot,
And when it ends, as it inevitably will, and you feel nothing but hurt and pain
I’ll soften my tone, and tell you you’re never alone, and you’re safe in my arms again.

A lifetime of waiting in wonder if you were really true
A trillion seconds of wishing my worries I could subdue,
Countless nights spent praying that you would become real to me
But a moment in your arms and worries are but a distant memory.

I have spent the greater portion of my life searching for a person that has certain distinguishable qualities. I have often been told that my standards were unreachable. I have spent years defining unconditional love, the difference between love and infatuation, and in general what love is. I was not until I met you that I was able to distinguish one emotion from another figure out what I had been missing all along. Since I met you I now know that love is:

When their heartbeat reverberates inside your very soul. When you find the answers to all of the questions of the world inside their eyes. When the only desire that you have is to fulfill all of their desires. When your body trembles at its inability to contain all of the emotions that are trying to burst forth from within you. When their voice sounds sweeter than any angelic melody could ever desire to. When you are dreaming of them and upon waking you try as hard as you can to get back to sleep because you cannot wait until you actually get to see them again. When they are the first thing that you think of in the morning and the last thing that you think about before going to sleep. When you try so hard to conceal how you are lost in bliss when you see them smile. When every touch and caress makes your heart race faster than you thought possible. When you wish you could lose yourself for an eternity in every kiss. When every day spent with them passes by in a moment and you find yourself wishing you were with them again. When your biggest fear is waking up and not finding them next to you. When your greatest desire is to hold them close. When all of the great problems of the world become minor details. When you search constantly for a stronger word because you know that love could not possibly encompass everything that you feel. When you know in your heart that you could drown in a single tear that they cried. When you would give up everything else just to hear them say "I love you" and know that they meant it. When you know that there is no one else in the world more beautiful than the person you hold dear. When you cannot help but smile when you think back on the memories you have made.  When you plan out every moment of that special day just so it will be as memorable as possible to them. When the only reason that you have left to fear death is that you would be without them. When you know that to hurt them would be the greatest crime that you could ever commit. When you realize that these words do not do justice to the meaning behind them.

Yet…even though those words cannot fully express how I truly feel…I still use them for lack of a way to show you to a further extent.

I love you. I love your kisses. Your smile. When you tell me that all that matters is us. That the rest of the world could fall apart and as long as we have each other that we'll be fine. That little thing you do when you think no one is looking. The way you lay there and stare at me for hours on end. Not needing to say anything. The way you smile because you know that it makes me happy, even if you don't want to. The way you call me just to see what I’m up to...even if you already know. The way you act surprised even if I’ve ******* up and you already know what's going to happen. The way that you look so innocent when you lay there sleeping. The way you laugh at me when I’m acting ******* just so I won't feel bad. That look you give me. The way that we argue about who loves who more. The stupid things we do when we're bored. The way that you make me feel complete. The way you hold me so tightly. The way you make me feel like I’m the one protecting you instead of the other way around. How it seems like I’m not alone when you're here. How you pour out your soul because you know I won't ever use any of it against you. The love you give, the hope you continue, the happiness you sustain.

A thousand thoughts of you are but a sand in time
but those thoughts of you are always in my mind,
Swirling slowly, completely through, even to my soul
and these fragments of thoughts of you are what makes me whole.
I piece them all together as hard as it may be
so I can remember every moment since you said yes to me,
And as I get lost in these memories deep in my heart’s core
I think in bliss of how in time there will be so many more.
I piece my life together like a puzzle full of truth
but the puzzle now can make no sense without the thought of you,
The only time I’m more confused is when I’m lost within your eyes
Because I’m lost within the one that I love to be beside.
I have eternal comfort when I’m holding you tight
But even that eternity must end when I let you go at night,
And even though I leave alone, I leave with a smile
Because I know before I see you again, it will only be a while.
The happiness you’ve brought to me this poem cannot explain
Because even now I can’t tell you how much I’ve gained,
Ever since that night when you said that you’d be mine
So I just wanted to let you know that I have the best valentine.

puzzles are easily put together, codes are easily deciphered, riddles are easily solved, questions are easily answered. the things created by the mind of man can be easily solved by the mind of man. it is only the questions that words cannot be found for that cannot be answered.

if a heart could cry out in an audible tone then i am afraid that i would go deaf from the constant murmur that would be produced from the depths of my chest. if love was an object i am afraid that i would tuck mine away forever so that such an irreplacable treasure would not become worn with time. if time could stop itself i am afraid where i would be found when it did so. if sleep could lash out and attack me for ignoring it for so long i am afraid that it would never cease its assault. if errors made were corporeal then i am afraid that i would lock them away forever in an inescapable prison to never be seen again. if my apologies grew limbs i am afraid they would die from exhaustion from constantly running from my heart to your ears. if my desire could be contained i am afraid no container would be found capable of storing such a great mass. if it was possible for me to find that which i seek i am afraid that it would dissolve and leave me without the one that none can replace. if i could tell you everything that i feel i am afraid that you would think me truly mad. if all my fears dissolved i am afraid that i would have nothing left to run from and would be found standing still. if i should be found standing still i am afraid that i would give all i have to give. and if i gave my all i am afraid that it would all be for nought and i would be found where i once was, without...

my father recently told me that i run from everything. i follow some "run and gun" pattern as he described it. he does not know how right he truly was. i could not explain it to him just as much as i cannot fully explain it to myself. but to put it simply...i fear. i fear love because i fear that it will always end as it has in the past. i fear confrontation because in the end someone always ends up hurt. i fear sleep because i cannot control the dreams that are created by my own mind. i fear hope because i am afraid that i will be disappointed. i fear my emotions because i am afraid that they will become greater than what i can control. i fear closeness because distance will inevitably set in. i fear looking into your eyes because you may see how i truly feel. that you may feel sympathy, that you may look down on me for admitting what is known to be true but never stated, that you will see how much you have helped me through what i could not do on my own, that you will see through my eyes and into my soul and be overwhelmed.

and though i fear many things, and though because i cannot often be found because i run from all those things which i do fear, there are some things that i have never feared and i doubt i ever shall. i have never feared your voice. i have never feared being with you. i have never feared losing what we have developed through the years. i have never feared that anything will ever come between us. i have never feared that the love i feel for you should ever subside. i have always given you my heart in whole because there is no fear that you will ever break it. and though i know that i have never nor will ever find a greater friend than you i do not fear that i should ever have to search for another. in a poem that i once wrote to you the words "all i have ever wanted, but more than i could ask for" still stand true. you mean the world to me. and if you were not here i have no idea where i would be right now. i just wanted to thank you for being there for me through everything that i've gone through. you have brought light to a once dim heart. you are the only proof that i need that there are those out there deserving all that i have.

these words mean nothing without the meaning behind them.

smile love, just smile. i will make you the happiest woman in the world. i will give you everything that you've ever wanted. i will make you forget the entities of sadness and regret. i will love you and you will love me, i'll make you lose yourself in the everlasting bliss, never leave you without a smile. i'll leave you wondering how you lived your life before now. he will fill your head with empty promises...

in time i have come to learn that love is a many faceted colossus. and depending on the angle of approach and point of view you can see many different things in it. that is why most people view love in different ways. it's not that their love is less true, it's just they have been one of the unfortunates that has been led to view love from the wrong perspective. finding love is easy if you approach it from one of the more easily accessible viewpoints. but if you work at it hard enough you can gain a vantage point that shows you the true beauty of love. the whole of this gargantuan emotional construct will be within your heart and mind. and once you have conquered the understanding of this which some might call an obstacle you can share what you have learned and teach those who were so unfortunate to not achieve what you have achieved. because although each facet complicates the next, and every love is different, is the goal not always the same? to extend your boundaries of happiness with another past what you could accomplish by yourself.

...and when you are left unhearted wondering why this love has collapsed upon itself. i will simply tell you that you saw love as a simple emotion when it was really a complicated goliath. and as you cannot build wonders out of empty boxes, you cannot build love with nothing but empty promises.

and there was a man. the frigid chill of winter blew behind him pushed him forward into the warm embrace that stood before him. and he knew that never again would he be able to turn around and face the cold void that he had left behind. he would never be able to follow the trail of frozen tears to find what he had once called his own on the other side of the blizzard. once he had found his way out of the storm he knew that he would never again have to feel such pain, such numbness. but the warm embrace that held him now made him forget all of those things. because that from which he came was so cold the warmness he now felt was euphoric. it lit a spark in his eye and caused him to glow. and of this fact alone he is forever grateful.

All i want is to be with you
but i don't know how to let you know,
if somehow you found out and knew
all my worries and fears would go.
If the wind would whisper in your ear
this secret that i'm forced to keep,
and all of it you could hear
so much pressure would be lifted off of me.
My unease to tell has filled me with disbelief
usually it is so easy for me to throw it all way,
but your friendship I do want to keep
and I can't find the way to tell you today.
I can't just let go like times before
there's something about you that makes me care,
I feel like this is something more
but with you this secret i can't share.
maybe i'm afraid you might shy away
or I'll just ***** everything up again,
but if i ever found out that you would stay
I'd break down and tell you right then.
All I want is to be with you
but I don't know how to let you know,
If somehow you found out and knew
new fears would come when the old ones go.

when you lay there staring up at me i realize
that i can almost see your soul through your eyes,
i can see all your desires that i'm trying to ignore
because i'm so afraid you'll say "don't hold me anymore".
the love i feel for you will surely outlast the world
but in this love there is no lust even as our bodies were curled,
i  just want to hold you and know that you are near
to move any further than this would again spark the fear.
my mind was running in circles as we laid there so long
so confused, so petrified, so afraid to do something wrong,
but even though these feelings were welling up inside of me
every time you smiled i felt nothing but relief.
knowing that you were there sheltered me from all that i hide
and hearing "i love you too" makes me forget what i've been denied,
makes me forget all but the wholeness that i feel when i'm with you
so whole because i know and feel that every word you say is true.
So here's to a friend that i know i never will forget
and not letting love and closeness turn into regret,
here's to the emotions for her that i can no longer store
she's everything i've ever wanted, but more than i could ask for.

Yesterday I knew the answers to all the problems on my mind
as you layed there trying to keep from falling asleep,
I found myself looking forward and not behind
and sharing these secrets i thought i would always keep.
But I must have stirred too much or breathed too hard
because your eyes slowly opened up again
and i knew the feelings i felt i no longer had to disregard
as you, as if lost in dream, looked into my eyes, my friend.
You sitting there so beautiful, a smile crossed your face
I knew there was no concealing the smile on my own
in this complete comfort that i know i can't replace
no mat
Bella Aug 2018
I'm doing so good
so good
but I know it's just distractions
and what happens when the distractions run out
at what point is getting rid of the bad
by ignoring the bad
a bad thing?

I mean,
it seems good
until you think about it
and I think about it
it's all still there
I just kept tip toeing around triggers in the battlefield of my own mind
and I can't just do nothing
and I can't be alone in the dark

because then I'm not better anymore
and all of that hard work of ignoring and ignoring and distracting and ignoring just crumbles
it all goes to ****
and I'm left sobbing desperately so desperately

so tell me
which is better
being depressed all the time
or distracting myself from my own depression
tiptoeing around my own thoughts and dying a little every time I step on a creaky board

which one is better
Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t just been the backseat of your car,
Intoxicated. My first drunk hook up. My first. Period.
I picture myself being champagne on Valentine’s Day.
I picture myself being you, nervous in the car, holding Starbucks
because you know I love coffee. Sometimes, I picture myself as her,
calling you a stalker and ignoring your calls,
but then I see myself. I call you beautiful,
turn you into poetry, laugh at your bad jokes,
I see myself as I become your drunk Wednesday night
when you’re sad. I see myself as I say no,
I become a “this is not a good idea”
and you a “we’ll deal with the consequences in the morning.”
We laugh because this hurts too much.
You take her out for dinner and I burrow money
for Plan B because you forgot you don’t like condoms
and clearly have no idea how children are made.
I have already named him. He has your curls and
my anxiety. He is smart. Except, I never wanted kids and
you would be a great father. Instead, you tell her
the beach reminds you of her and I cry in a McDonald’s
bathroom with my friend as relief floods through me that
the test comes negative. I stop talking to you,
move forward, meet someone new and before long
see myself becoming you. Because isn’t that the cycle?
Bad men turn good women into bad women who turn
good men into bad men. I’ll set him free so he can hurt
someone like me, and I drink red wine as I read her
poems about him and me.
TheRhymeRenegade Aug 2018
Everyone says what's the rush
and they say what's the use
and I'm so tired so very tired
baby, you need to choose
I can't do this anymore
I just need to know
We fight, we laugh, we click, we clash
should I stay or should I go?

and every time I find myself
wanting to pull back
you smile just a bit
give me a heart attack
I feel like a fool
to hang on every word
to be wanting to believe you
ignoring what I've heard

Am I stupid?
Should I do this?
Am I foolish?
This is useless

It wasn't so long ago
my head was ******* on straight
did not believe in fate
or waste time on boring dates
Ignoring matters off the heart
remaining cold and callous
til you grabbed my hand while I could barely stand
and led me to the madness

and every time I find myself
wanting to pull back
you smile just a bit
give me a heart attack
I feel like a fool
to be hanging on every word
to be wanting to believe you
ignoring what I've heard

Am I stupid?
Should I do this?
Am I foolish?
This is useless

And it's a scary thing 'cause
I wanna meet your parents
God I love you so much
is it gross to use your toothbrush?
I guess this is what it is
I cannot pull away
at least I am a *******
and thriving in the pain
I feel so very little
so small and microscopic
but when it comes right down to it
I know I could never stop it

and every time I find myself
wanting to pull back
you smile just a bit
give me a heart attack
I feel like a fool
to be hanging on every word
to be wanting to believe you
ignoring what I've heard

Am I stupid?
Should I do this?
Am I foolish?
This is useless
I have been writing a lot of songs and poems lately and it means a lot to me the people who actually take the time to read and give feedback! I love you guys.
Ken Pepiton May 2018
Sunday, May 06, 2018
4:51 PM

Failing for lack of power is a fear crop.
A fear crop.
An odd thought.

Not the seed nor spore, but the fruit.

And fruits have seeds in themselves,
All men, I say again,
wombed and un, should know that by now.

Freedom of information act fact, informed
men know when to fight and when to sow and when
to reap the crops we've sown
in our mortal moment
gone with the wind.

Not mine.
The wind is in my inheritance,
True proverb.
I troubled my own house, fouled my nest
with all the rest o' youse ab-users of life
ignoring forever like that could never happen here.

It did.
The voices in your head are never all evil
if they use words.
In the total accounting of idle words
some significant percentage
may
carry meaning forsaken.
Such may be redeemed
much as one would redeem the time.

One of us.  One of our mortal kind.

Dear reader, we say again, we ain't Legion nor his kin.

We are words once spoken in jest among fools who repeated us
meaninglessly, oh my God, you know. Per se. No ****. **** happens.
All the ****** time,
and **** and God, those two get overtime of idle utterance instances.
Though a statistically measurable deme
does redeem a significant some of those two
in true beliver
dying breath
honesty. God, they say, and die.

By my leave, I say,
I am the definition of a free entity accepted in these books.
We are voices. Messengers.
Some of us were wicked, twisted as wicker
or wire bundles. Some of us were true pass words.
Some were true rest words,
rest rooms were so named
for that wonderunful feeling we all get
when **** happens

at just the right moment

in the book. Great ideas gravitate to clean rest rooms.

this is a new book right, this reader is
whadayacallit

Vetted.
What does that mean. You know right idle heard words are
meaning less
power less.
Vet me. Am I one of those ideas, good to the core, caught up in fairy
tales fed the T.V. generation, the Boom beyond the bomb?
After school freedom and duck and cover drills,
we watched cartoons, aimed twenty short years earlier
at the wanters and wishers and workers and worriers
of the thirties, not at us. W


e Boomers, as the media hipsters have always known us,
the off-spring, often unwanted and ill-begotten, of the Greatest Generation,
the one that won the contracts to build all the bombs in the world,
tax-free.

Those cartoons from the thirties with Entertainment Tonight plots and cameos of
Hollywood stars who were Grandma's age,
that Cowboy Bob on the local VHF
(unaffiliated or independent, hard to tell a diff)
showed to us, the first middle class latch key kids in centuries,
those cartoons were meaningless, prewar propaganda
unless we match adult laughing recoging the exaggerations,
The Betty Davis eyes and Frankly M'Dear bigears
"Grandpa, who is that guy with big ears and a skinny mustache?"
Clark Gable, wow.
Who knew the "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a ****" guy had jug-handle ears?
It was diversity in the desert. My big ears no longer made me bully bait.
I have superior hearing and star power.
From my kindergarten years I have known.
I am included, my flaws are not flaws at all.
That don't give a **** guy
and I have big ears to hear better with, so
we know more. Good fathers teach their big eared sons such facts of Nature.

Take care. Don't get puffed up. Knowing too much
will fill a head with hydrogen and the brain in it rots,
intrixically.

Are we powerless? If you say so? No.
I am in control, graciously demands
no load un-bearable with Gen-you-wine Joy Juice,
Kick-a-poo Joy Juice.

(Note: not fire water white lightning. This is
Gen-you-wine Joy Juice,
Kick-a-poo Joy Juice. Al Capp's
Personal Stash of Greatest Gen Synthetic Absynthe.
Used to **** hippie wanna-bees in farm country,
Like DDT for apple worms and skeeters,
Atom bombs for all colors of thinkin' right (but white),
Gen-you-wine Joy Juice,
Kick-a-poo Joy Juice revived many a faintin' pilgrim
follerin' John Wayne down the dusty trail,

Play me one o' them somebody done somebody right
songs,
there must be a million lying idle in blue puddles o' all kinds
of imaginary
ref-use.

Referee.
Job's Daysman betwixt us, we win. His call, not mine. I thought I lost for sure.

I was powerless, let me testify.

No. We think different here. If you are not stupid,
you are not powerless. If you are stupid, then you are powerless,
but but but
If you think you are powerless, you are not stupid. God knows, right?
Stupid people seldom see themselves powerless past the standing
under peace that's beyond understanding meat-mind-wise.

Dunning-Krueger. Again.
Feedback please, this is one of many in the theme of redeeming idle words, for fun and profit.
Lauren Tyler Jun 2012
Plato, Socrates, Aristotle.
Forms, idealism, transcendence.
I don't know what to make of it.
I just keep getting lost in my mind,
thinking of other things,
ignoring Anaxagoras.

Fellow students search for insight,
attempting to find inner depths,
pretending to be profound.

I wander out of my head-maze momentarily,
long enough to write a few things down,
a couple scribbles in my notebook,
until my brain draws me back in,
and I'm ignoring Anaximander.

Thinking of anything but Plato's Phaedo
while miming rapture, staring blankly
into the depths of the instructor's ginger beard,
ignoring the words that come out of his mouth.
Ignoring Anaximenes.
jigyasa Aug 2016
i've been ignoring it
stress seeping
in trembling airways
effects of cortisol

i've been ignoring it
subtle shaking of breath
once constant, once confident

i've been hiding
from a heart hurt
unaccomplished goals became looming dreams again

but like Rome I will pick myself up
I will piece myself together
from resilient rubble
and a blank blueprint
become a beautiful mosaic

Now is the time.
Because I've been ignoring it.
Ignoring it all too long now.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
This is not where this idea began but it ran and I

missed my mark. Mark sin.
-1 deficit reality quotientcy
currency.  Sure.
(Press Sure, to let the bursting pressure equilation expand at will)
Score.

That fine a level of reality
demands more attention than I have to pay.
Patient agent wait and not see or see if/then

you suffer, is there ought that I might do now
for you
that these words are not doing?
All I am is words, in a sence, sense, since

we come in threes, we are some of those sets of thoughts tangled in complexes
better left alone.

Untangling twisted knotted realities is what we do best.
We've been wadding up proteins,
since God knows when,

time's less twisted than people think it is,
but it is silly to imagine
time's arrow is a metaphor for these meta-gnostic moments.
Is it?

Apophrenia
or mere
Dejavu, you believe,
what if it is your memory lying by ignoring time
attention ratios determining the observations stored in HD?
What if it's just a glitch?
Blue screen of death.


If you suffer, is there ought that I might do now
for you
that these words are not doing?
All I am is words, in a sence, sense, since

we come in threes, we are those sets of thoughts tangled in complexes
better left alone.

Untangling twisted knotted realities is what we do best.
We've been wadding up proteins,
since God knows when,

time's less twisted than people think it is, but
is it silly to imagine
time's arrow is a metaphor for these meta-gnostic moments?

We come and go. To and fro up on the face

messengers bearing news in both directions, watch
the trickster, Jacob, in this story, he sees the messengers from
heaven bearing leaven thither and hither

upon the face of the earth.
the wrinkling mother, smiling now, chuckle head
I ain't no ***** saint.

Jah, I know. Joy is my dance, this is my song.
Is it good Grandmother?

---- on the porch facing my west gate ---

fences don't play exactly, out acted, the role of walls.

The idea that something
there is that does not love a wall,
has frozen my pond

the stillness beyond the sylvan **** crowned head
radiates through the medium of the message to me in time
to you.

Miles to go, you recall the feeling of feeling miles to go
before
I sleep.
That was yesterday, and you know yes ter everything's gone,
roar.

Aslan can pierce the barrier between mere Christians and me,
how would be fun to know, but
knowing why would help us keep the story interesting as life goes on

Who controls my peace?
Am I a mercurial sheen in between chaos and order,
chronus and zeus?
Could be, ya thank so, ye know so, less unlessed as

unlessing means nothing to you,
that means you are visiting here.

Visting whom, vis it ing whom?
Who's in charge, where's the power
short

age, wrinkles in time, rogue waves at the quanta scale,
we were dancing
with the thoughts emanating

from some IDW smart guy proffesing
Critique-technic-magi action, post mode'r'ism
at the point of Dada und Scheizkunst,
the unmass-queque,
the line of lies awaiting unbelief,
idle words lingering,
hoping
to be noticed and added back into the story book of life,

a simple wish.

It could be every child's, should we think that
if we can or may,

sometimes I'm still, and

confusion troubles the water,
it seems,
then another hurt is healed, another lie is gone and life goes on

we won again, this never gets old,
I do love my opposition,
pressure pump
pump pump. De-us-me-can-onbeoffbeyond

five years ago unmasking and rhetoric meant nothing to me
the purpose of learning forever and never
knowing anything beyond all things

our bubble is metastasizing, a mercurial film forms
informing us
in its reflection,

this is the ying yang thang in 3 or 4 d, HD+ chaos one half

order the other,
sharpest imaginable thing
me trick being mag ift just if eye winged show

how beautiful are the feet of them who bring good news,
you see, it flows, sweetwater flows
winged feet
whish through leaving, leavin' leaven…

unleaven that which has been leaved?
Fat chance, all who
eat this bread and don't get gas,
they are our same bread people. Companions.
Vectors of sour dough,
webs of fungal
axions
make a way
bore, pore, poor-with-us, pour

in to it ish, that idea, an opening through,
trickle down good gravity leveling stillness,
gentle rocking earth
roll round and round and round

the pythagorean version
of Euclid's point in his mother's story,

the point of this song? To know the point you must have been

to the point of in-forming the point on which we dance and you recall

we come in threes, and just, we are, just, if it, that idea,
rests in your
back roads, gentle on your mind. We make peace.

Being young is easy from my POV.
I've lived in my future for sometime now

I can't say how, beyond saying aloud, this was never hidden,
in my accounting of idle words I claimed,
upon hearing the stories each contained.

i'da swore i hear that wise *** o'balaam's abrayin'
Braindeem, deemed 'eem. Wham, uptheyhaid. Relig, fool,

or chaos wins and no hero ever lives again!
Drop anchor, wait it out.
let patience blow her nose, gnostic snot caught in the nets,

nonono nothing's wasted in patience work, we make glue
from gnostic snot that patience sneezes
when reality grows cold,

that has happened, you know, temperatures are just now,
oh, wait global warming, bad dam,

Script, bust it,
leveling is essential to eventual temperature
equilibrium.
The heat is on, the bubbles are forming, informing one to another
below the surface
greasy tension, slippery slopes putting pressure on chaos
to conform to the curve

Ying yang, mercury film upon the sea of time and the scene of chaos
in this bubble of all you can imagine real.

Hows' that feel? Why?

You want that? What are you standing under? Does chaos win?
You are, as we say, cognisic magi we-ified,
practical magic at
the moment
the point
is made, then the creation begins fractalling outward

and not before or is this all
unrolling ex nihilo, no magi ever knew…
come, let us reason together,

why am I empowered? To live, first thought wise, that's good but
evil forces me to think again and I see the pattern

life goes on, John Molenkamp, Sam, soldier 4,
(as the credits role by, the name catches my eye)
never in a thousand years,
'cept unbelievable is one of those lies I came to **** by strangling
on bile while
rescuing every idle word ever involved in the infection

from the point in the absolute center of the bubble,
objectively, you see everything
that is
seeable

but would good prevail if evil had no hope?

I know that one, yes. why?
evil has no mind, soul, some think--
same same medium message spoken spelled chanted danced
who care's?
*** 'er done. Life has a chaotic side, the churning creates

number one from none, the cult of one divides itself
go do be
we three we three we three a wavy song ding ****.

Aware? Awaken? Avowed-wowed-wit-wise,
fullcomp, retired
Peacemaker. Me.

All my hero's imagined or real, were Peacemakers.
Just now, peaceful now, mindful now
we remain
the same blessing promised in the package of yeses
stolen from Cain by his older sister, his
bride,
keep that quiet, eh?

Secrets made sacred, always
those are lies, no lie is of the truth,
all lies are about the truth.

What empowers you, poet or poetry? Right, you know,
God, good god knows, resentment lives in lies

the rotting idle words deemed curses at best, secret at worst,
those idle corrupting thoughts sparking as if absolute annihilation were thinkable by rational minds

of ---wait, there's arub, a sore
ex nihilo, the homeless wanderer screams,

"May the whole world perish, may you all go to hell,"

the mad man wept his hell, and imagined his curse,

not mine,
I don't have one. I did, but I went back so often to find pieces of my heart that now I have an Elysian network woven through All-hell, the big idea that broke loose infecting the mind as wisdom's leaven builds her womb
inhabitation
placenta
stem cell informing builders empowered, pressure empowered, what must be, but is not verse, versus
us, the we that be
we must
choose,

let this be, come and see,
life goes on.
Agree, or empower us as we bubble by and
takenallwecan expanding gobbling bubbles,
good
by ye.

Once we flushed the Dada poison and let mito mom
instill the patience gene with
epigenetic peace we can pass on with a touch or a word,

we've never woven lies for no reason,
if a rung breaks
and they can, last straw and all that weight,
you know,
Jacob's ladder is an escalaltor-ladder, wittily invented,

there are automated steps, algoryhmes of reasons to repair the broken rung
with a reason to believe the rung has been repaired,
only believe, take a step,
re
paired again with the idea of meaninglessness masked in create-if-ity

good enough. okeh. don't believe lies.
Don't pass undigested lies to see if farts burn.
Listening to Hicks Explaing Post Modernism after watching Tenant's Voltage Within spark a fire. This reality is storyteller heaven.
you see i went up to saturn on the 23rd november 2015 and i got ******

as i sang these songs


summer weather, the barbecues are lit together

and each of santas elves, man, having a party with plenty of alcohol

and it is the summer weather, the esky is the place to be yeah

and we swim in the bay, avoiding the sharks

ya see we party all night, without much of a fight

then my mate pat comes in and bes a big strong man

and i sing your big and strong and you like to carry on

ya see it’s the summer weather, and the coca cola is the best drink oh yeah’’it refreshes you up

just drinking from a cup

ya see it’s the summer weather cause we have our drinks to keep us cool

you see i am ignoring the big man, by sitting here relaxing in this house with flowered carpet

i am dreaming, and it’s almost christmas, i can almost see your christmas gifts

what the hell can it be, ya see it’s the summer weather

cause we have our beers to keep us cool

you see i am in my bed singing old cold chisel tracks as well as twisted sister

we’re not going to take it, no we ain’t going to take it

we’re not going to take it anymore

and i sang it’s a long way to the shop if ya want a sausage roll

but i still went to the shop to buy s sausage roll

and pat the big man said, come on kids let’s tease him

but as a natural fact, when i was young, i thought pat liked the idea of being a daddy figure

because he wanted to tease me with the kids

and while he did that, i was in my bed ignoring the little teaser

because i am not a shy person, i am a nice person, nicer than patrick anyway

cause he think it’s cool to make people utter and he thinks it;s cool to keep smiling at me like a daddy would do

you see before dad died and when i was still working, i visioned dad smiling at me while he was swimming and i was working

you see patrick wants to tease me with the cool kids, i don’t want him to, but he wants to

and as i am writing this, the forces of evil are making be a shy boy writing a story

but i am not a shy boy, i am a writer and artist, and i entertain some people on youtube

i hear people say, shut up up woosey, but i hate being called a woosey

because i am smarter than patrick, in every stretch of the imagination

and i can tell you another thing, i am a big rich man, and i am more powerful than poor little patrick

i am mental, and mental beats being a hooligan anyway

you see i vision people telling me that they don’t want me to express myself

i want patrick to look worried, so i can be a cool person, like mike from the young ones

brian the cool person

and all this was going on, when i was dreaming of being on a deserted island

with a beautiful woman, a mermaid so to speak, and rather than listen to patrick rivvel on like a old man

i went over to the mermaid to have *** with the mermaid

and i pumped my body on the beautiful mermaid while patrick was attempting to tease me with the cool kids

i told him, i am a family person, sure mate, i am completely ignoring you to have *** with a mermaid

patrick said, don’t ignore me, be like me, and i said, neh, i don’t care how i look to to you and lyle

if i want a beard, i will keep my beard, and if you hate it, you can kiss my behind

because i am a family person, sure mate, i am ignoring the stupid hooligan

i was pumping my ***** into her ******, and patrick was so jealous of me

and then i got up on stage in saturn and sang

silent **** holy ****

all is quiet till the old man farts

sleep very soundly before you let it out

like water coming out of a water spout

**** to bring nirvanaly peace man

peace from nirvana yeah

i woke up and patrick said, why don’t you have a shave, i said neh, i love my beard, it makes me look like a real man, dude

and i said, i am way cooler than you, dude, my beard suits me, to my point of view
Brent Kincaid May 2016
Where are those killing fields?
They are wherever we see
The Master Race ignoring
Peace, love and equality.

If you’re not white
And your state is red,
Don’t be surprised
If you end up dead.
As maybe some one
Will beat on your head
And demand to know
What goes on in your bed.

If you are any race
But Holy Caucasian
Like African or Inuit,
Mexican or Asian
That includes Islam
And all such nations
The bigots will hate
On every occasion.

Where are those killing fields?
They are wherever we see
The Master Race ignoring
Peace, love and equality.

In World War Two we
Fought against fascism
And now we entertain
An unholy American schism
In which Americans plan
With gleeful fanaticism
To make every effort
To maintain totalitarianism.
For over two centuries
We have sung of equality
And the inalienable rights
Of American humanity.
We continue to fight now
But it has become a calamity
Because now we are fighting
Within each of our families.

Where are those killing fields?
They are wherever we see
The Master Race ignoring
Peace, love and equality.
JayceeJellies Aug 2015
I'm going to drown myself in video games
and ignore the information I obtained.
I know you didn't really mean those things, right?
I wish those words would go away, at least at night.

I think what bothers me the most
is that you make me seem like I'm always the bad guy,
when you have also been the cause quite a few times...
But I never said things that weren't untrue to complete strangers especially not about you. Regardless I will ignore this and keep my nose in my games, curiosity kills the cat in the end.

I should've held onto this quote.
Alex Apr 2018
I walk with my head down, I've outgrown this town,
I know my way around but it's boring now,
I'm snoring now, ignoring clowns that surround me, how
Do I break out, find some glory now,
See the globe, rewrite my story, develop some clout,
Enveloped by doubt...can't seem to figure it out,
Developed my sound, need to deliver a shout, no fuss, gotta row,
This **** bridge fell in the moat,
Forget a paddle,
I'm still building a boat,
Don't doubt though, I'll break out now, might be slow but expect a ******* as I go,
Not gonna linger, stay sharp like iguana fingers,
Depressed and full of stress, my best is yet to come,
Inhibitions, lack of rest keep my ambitions undone,
My dreams have been oppressed, my soul remains repressed,
But instead of being stunted I'll stun, refuse to just regress
Emma Russell Aug 2014
There are traitors in the castle
Hypocrites and liars
Spreading rumors, keeping secrets
Lighting silent fires
Pacing in the bedrooms
Quiet in the halls
Sneaking after midnight
Conspiring behind walls
Pretending to be royalty
Called themselves "king and queen"
Throwing out words like garbage
Not saying what they mean
Not taking time to think
Just playing a silly game
Betraying flesh and blood
not feeling any shame
Full of carelessness and greediness
But acting so sincere
Watching with fake smiles and laughter
Ignoring every tear
Throwing "traitors" in the dungeon
While deceiving on the thrown
Punishing those "committing crimes"
Not looking at their own
There were traitors in the castle
Hypocrites and liars
Bargaining with enemies
Igniting silent fires
Now there is no castle
No whispers in the halls
Nothing hiding behind doors
All that's standing are the walls
Marian Jan 2014
Today I'm trying to ignore the pain
I can imagine butterflies
Are carrying my pain to the fluffy clouds
I can imagine birds are singing to me
Instead of the constant pills I have to swallow
I can imagine that little gnomes and fairies
Are trying to take away most of my pain
Instead of the pain medicine that I take
With a snack or a meal
I can imagine that rainbows and shooting stars
Adorn the sky instead of the grey clouds
That fill the sky
I can also imagine that the day is warm enough
For our games of croquet or perhaps volleyball
Instead of the howling winds and bitter cold
That lace the air outside the house
I can try to picture myself
Reading a book underneath a sunny, shady tree
Or laying beside a babbling brook or creek
Dreaming the hours away
Instead of sitting here in the rocking recliner
Trying to ignore the pain

*~Marian~
Yeah, I guess I'm in a little pain because of
having the corners of my ingrown toenail removed, and a slight headache perhaps!!! ~~~~<3
But I'll try to ignore the pain, and be brave if possible!!! :) ~~~~~<3
Update: the podiatrist wants to see me Tuesday
I guess because he wants to see if it's healing!!!! (: ~~~~<3
But I'm going to try to ignore the pain!!! :) ~~~<3
T Jones Aug 2014
Not a poem but in protest of flagging truth about racism in Traverse City, Michigan


Traverse City, Michigan: Racism is still alive and well in our area.

We weren't always welcoming
Cross burning's (City of Traverse City, MI)
I'm born and raised in Traverse City, Michigan and still living in the same neighborhood where I grew up. I can remember when blacks were not welcome in most parts of town and the one or two around were military visitors.

We had two known cross burning incidents. One back in the late 80's or early 90's the other was around 1924, ******* groups like Ku Klux **** was behind both cross burning incidents. I found old articles on the earlier one but someone is trying hard to white wash history of Traverse City by hiding evidence of the most resent one. Ones like me who were there remember those dark days like it was yesterday. It don't bode well for tourism or the Cherry Festival if there's a record of racism in our city.

Copy pasting one two different retelling of story reported by our sometimes biased Record Eagle articles regarding the first and and will continue to dig for the other one.

January 31, 2009
KKK was active in early '20s

The 1924 bombings and cross burnings in downtown Traverse City were not the first **** activity in northern Michigan.

The Record-Eagle reported flaming crosses in the Mancelona area on Aug. 1, 1923, a full year before. Six weeks later, Traverse City commissioners refused the **** permission to hold a Sept. 17 open-air meeting at the corner of Front and Cass.

About 300 people showed up anyway and marched to a vacant lot west of Front and Union after the unidentified property owner gave permission, carefully noting that it "did not commit him to any relationship with the organization," the newspaper said.

The Record-Eagle also passed on information from an identified **** source in its Sept. 17 report:

Two, maybe three organizers had worked for weeks in Traverse City. About 150 Traverse City men from "among the leading citizens" had joined. An open-air ritual with the traditional fiery cross burning on a hillside would be held "sometime but not yet" in or near Traverse City, and it would be "merely a part of the **** ceremonies and have no special significance."

People who expected to see hooded men in white robes performing rites at the Sept. 17 rally were bound to be disappointed, the paper said. A new state law banned wearing masks in public. It also would be difficult to tell how many in the audience were KKK members because "every person who has signed the Ku Klux card has pledged to keep his membership an absolute secret."


Traverse City, Michigan wasn't always welcoming to people of color.


Traverse City Record-Eagle

February 1, 2009
Ku Klux **** terrorizes TC in 1924

KKK cross burnings, explosions rock city

By LORAINE ANDERSON
Black History Month has special significance, since it begins fewer than two weeks after the nation's historic inauguration of its first black president, Barack Obama.

But there are parts of that history that Traverse City, like the rest of the nation, would rather forget. The city never had a large black population, but it did not escape a visit from the Ku Klux **** during a frightening night of downtown explosions and cross burnings on Aug. 9, 1924.

Traverse City has never seen anything like that night of terror. Buildings shook. Store windows cracked and shattered. Houses as far away as 16th Street quaked, the Record-Eagle reported.

And though outside agitators were blamed, some local people may have been involved.

It started about 8 p.m. after three explosions went off across the river from the Lyric Theatre, where the State is today.

The crowd at the Lyric all but stampeded toward the door as women and children screamed. Panicked shoppers spilled out of downtown stores. City police phones jangled with alarm.

A large cross burned on the north side of the Boardman River near Cass Street. About 50 smaller burning crosses appeared almost simultaneously at the centers of intersections across the city. Each was crudely nailed together and swathed in oil-soaked rags. Sparks flew when several cars struck them. A city fire truck raced through town to douse flames.

Then, a "touring car" with four men, robed and hooded, though not masked, slowly trolled down Front Street carrying a sign surrounded by red flares blazing three letters: KKK.

Copies of the Ku Klux **** newspaper, "The Fiery Cross," later were found downtown, and police determined that at least two cars were involved in planting and lighting the crosses.

**** leaders called the explosions and flaming crosses a recruiting gimmick, but it was more than that. The 1920s was a reactionary time in the United States. The **** had risen again, starting in 1915, widening its anti-black focus to Jews, Catholics and immigrants, particularly those from southeastern Europe. Its membership was strongest in Illinois, Indiana and Ohio.

The ****'s most powerful year was 1924, when it reached an all-time high of 5 million members nationwide and virtually controlled the government of Indiana. Its most popular slogan was "100 percent pure American."

The **** had a solid base of support in Michigan. The **** fielded two candidates in the Republican gubernatorial primary in 1924 and a ****-backed candidate was elected mayor of Flint. A write-in **** candidate even made a strong showing in a Detroit mayoral race.

In June 1924, 1,000 men joined the KKK in an Oakland County cross burning attended by about 8,000 people. Traverse City's demonstration took place just two months later. But who was really behind it?

"There is some doubt among the authorities as to whether the offenses were actually committed by local people or men from outside. They believe that local people were associated in the affair," the Record-Eagle reported.

An unidentified spokesman for the local **** denied responsibility, speculating that it was the work of **** enemies or rogue Klansmen. He told the Record-Eagle that the **** repudiated terror tactics and burning of "unwatched crosses."

Two weeks after the bombing, city police obtained felony and misdemeanor arrest warrants accusing Ku Klux **** organizer Basil Carleton of Richmond, Ind., of setting off explosives. Indiana police arrested him on Aug. 29.

Witnesses testified in two trials in December and January that Carleton had purchased 25 pounds of dynamite, fuses and three caps from Hannah & Lay Mercantile Co. about two hours before the explosions. A Park Place Hotel clerk said he saw Carleton hurrying away from the direction of the explosions about 10 minutes later. Two **** members testified that Carleton was not at the scene.

Yet he was never convicted. Juries acquitted him in both cases because the prosecutor could not prove to their satisfaction that he was at the scene of the explosion or that he personally set off the dynamite.

The bomber escaped justice. But the good news was that in Traverse City, no night of terror like that happened again.

It was this event that sparked the cross burning in Traverse City. We had only one black family in our city, when Betty Ponder and her family left Traverse City for the first time due to no one wanting to rent to them, population of blacks in our predominately white city drop to zero.


******* Movement Targets Northern Michigan

by Robert Downes

National Alliance advocates the creation of "two Americas"

Traverse City, Mich., noted primarily for its beaches, tourists and cherry pie values, appears to be erupting as a national battleground of opinion over the ******* movement, with forces on both sides of the issue coming out of the woodwork to vent their outrage over racial issues.
On Thursday, June 5, residents along stretches of Washington and Front streets in town came home to find a slick package of information from the National Alliance hanging from their doorknobs. An outgrowth of the American **** Party, the National Alliance is a ******* group which advocates the creation of "two Americas," one of which would be "White Space only with no Jews or blacks." The Alliance, advocates genocidal practices if need be to achieve its goals, and plans to distribute 1,000 information packets in Northern Michigan.

Protest organized to oppose July "NordicFest"
The incident arose only a day after more than 150 people from throughout Northern Michigan gathered at a "Hate-Free TC" meeting to oppose the NordicFest, a skinhead rock festival sponsored by the Ku Klux ****, to be held at a secret location 20 miles south of town, July 3-6.
The NordicFest is being advertised on the Internet and will feature at least six skinhead bands featured on Stormfront Records and Resistance Records -- both of which are purveyors of neo-**** hate music. It will also reportedly feature speakers from the Ku Klux **** and Aryan Nations.

Thus far, the NordicFest's location has been a closely-kept secret by David Neumann of Bloodbond Enterprizes, the concert organizer and a former director of the Michigan Knights of the Ku Klux ****. Neumann has told local media that 300 tickets have been sold for the concert -- about half the number he expects to sell. Reportedly, concertgoers will be provided with maps to the secret location at a checkpoint.

Bands expected to play at the NordicFest include Intimidation One, Aggravated Assault, Blue Eyed Devils, Max Resist and the Hooligans, and No Alibi.

Local churches offering seminars on the ******* movement and the importance of diversity
GATHERING STORM

Journalists have made inquiries on the NordicFest from as far away as London, New York and Colorado as a result of the Northern Express story circulating on the Internet. A segment for National Public Radio is expected to take the issue nationwide, possibly focusing the world's attention on Traverse City on the eve of the National Cherry Festival -- an event which draws more than half a million visitors, many of them from ethnic minorities.
"We're creating a rainbow ribbon that we hope everyone will wear in rejection of skinheads and the ****," said Rabbi Stacey Fine of Hate-Free TC. "We hope to have hundreds of ribbons during the time the **** is here, available from downtown merchants."

Fine says the group also hopes to march in the National Cherry Royale Parade with a three-by-eight-foot banner covered with thousands of signatures in a show of support for racial and cultural diversity. Thus far, Cherry Festival officials say they have received no applications from Hate-Free T.C., but will consider the request if approached.

Dottie Kye of Hate-Free TC says the group doesn't plan to try stopping the NordicFest despite their opposition ot the concert. "We're ignoring it," Kye says. "We celebrate anyone's right to organize and free speech. But our thing is unity and celebrating diversity." In addition to several church seminars on the ******* movement and the importance of diversity, Hate-Free TC is organizing a three-day "Unity Festival" which will feature dozens of musicians, artists, poets, actors and peace activists at the Traverse City Opera House, July 3-6.

Concert organizers Tim Hall and Tom Emmott say that more than 40 musical acts will send a pro-diversity message to area teens, with performers including Willie Kye, Alright Already, John Greilick, Samantha Moore, the Motor Town Juke Boys, Bentley Filmore, the Sisters Grimm, and Lack of Afro, among many others. A concert with Fishbone is planned for later in the month.

"Even if the NordicFest doesn't happen, something positive is going to come of it because it gets people thinking about the prevention of violence"
THE TEEN CONNECTION

The Unity Fest counter-concert is seen as a vital tool in fighting the influence of the ******* movement on teens in the area. After the initial story broke, the buzz in local high schools was that the NordicFest would be offering free beer to minors. Although that notion is clearly erroneous, a small number of teens in the area still cling to the idea and have also been attracted by the rebellious nature of the skinhead rock scene.
Tim Hall believes that his Unity Fest concert will help turn that tide. The three-day concert will be located in the heart of Traverse City in the old City Opera House, with easy access for the hundreds of teens who hang out downtown, often with little to do. "Our message is going to be one that values racial and cultural diversity," Hall said. "And we've had a great response so far. We had to put a lid on the performers when we reached 40 acts, because everyone wants to play at this event."

The Unity Fest will also coincide with the Annual Reggie Box Memorial Blues Blast, which was created five years ago to bring the heritage of black music to Northern Michigan for the overwhelmingly white Cherry Festival. This year's Blues Blast will feature John Mayall, Marcia Ball and the Bihlman Bros. in a free concert downtown on July 6. The concert will also feature a strong message promoting diversity.

The law enforcement view Traverse City Police Chief Ralph Soffredine says members of the law enforcement community, including the State Police and sheriffs from Grand Traverse and Wexford counties, are taking a wait-and-see approach as to whether the NordicFest will even be held.

"People ask what we would do if the skinheads wanted to march, and it's our position that they have the same rights under the First Amendment as anyone as long as they're obeying the law," Soffredine said. "It's a neutral situation for us. We just want to maintain the peace."

He added that skinheads coming to Traverse City would be treated "no different than if longhairs come into town, or square dancers. We'd certainly observe them and respond if there's trouble."

The chief noted that a similar event occurred in the Buckley area several years ago when several motorcycle gangs gathered for a rally. While the event was monitored by local police agencies, few people in the area knew that it occurred.

"Even if the NordicFest doesn't happen, something positive is going to come of it because it gets people thinking about the prevention of violence, which has become a serious problem in our community and our schools," he concluded. "The unfortunate thing is that it sometimes takes a ******* or a racial issue for people to get active."

"Sheriff Barr implies that people who have the courage to confront them will be put in jail."
ANGER FROM ACTIVISTS

Not everyone is happy with the neutral attitude of law enforcement. Judy Lowenzahn of Traverse City thinks that local police agencies should get tough on the **** concert, which has no legally-required bond or liquor license.
"These hateful groups are using skinhead music to recruit soldiers for their facist movement," Lowenzahn said. "If they are allowed to hold this event, in violation of local, state and federal laws and in violation of common decency, we will be capitve audience to their deranged homophobic, anti-semitic, racist, sexist ideology. Those who protest this message, along with those who are their scapegoats will be targets for hate crimes."

Lowenzahn upbraided Grand Traverse County Sheriff Barr after he made comments in a local paper that "I'd just as soon personally let them have their little event and be on their way." Barr added that if there was a confrontation between the skinheads and protestors, "there's going to be someone in jail."

"Does Sheriff Barr suggest that people of color and others who don't fit the aryan model hide inside their homes for the holiday weekend?" Lowenzhan responded. "Rather than offer a plan to protect the community from the violence that grows whenever white supremecists do outreach, Sheriff Barr implies that people who have the courage to confront them will be put in jail."

Northern Michigan targeted because of the predominantly white population
KLUELESS

Up to now, the vast majority of Northern Michigan residents have been klueless on the **** and the ******* movement. Many, for instance, had no idea that there even was a Ku Klux **** operating in the region until Neumann revealed that there are about 60 members operating mostly as "a fraternal organization" between ******* and the Mackinac Bridge.
Similarly, the existence and agenda of the National Alliance is all-ne
Queen Nov 2014
ignoring me was the biggest mistake you ever made.
Pretty rich girl, softly dreaming, 
a woman is so newly waking
no use at all for dad’s financing, 
consumed by flesh that is desiring 
of wanton flows that force such rousing
to be taken far from here for using 
by men unfazed by city counting.

Then sudden blackness o’erwhelming, 
all sound and vision swiftly clouding
strong arms unseen and grasping 
to sweep her off her feet and making
sense of ropes around her tight’ning, 
with her arms together jerking
forcing back to ankles spreading
with ballgag muffled screaming 
she should now be strongly fighting 
instead there is a wild arousing.

Stripping cutting all that’s hiding 
until she’s held quite naked finding
that there’s a hood that’s closing 
round her head and isolating
from any sense of air that’s cooling
and rampant need that’s now arising
she feels excitement in so being
where she feels no fear abiding.

Put down hard after easy lifting
a lid above her slamming
the sound of engine starting 
spinning wheels now are speeding 
bound in dark she’s left a-lieing 
with mouth that gives no screaming
instead a wet arousal finding 
knowing of her inner needing.

****** rising almost blinding 
fighting, writhing, needing tying 
her tortured form now pounding
forcing every sinew twisting
with such unsought pleasure giving 
this wanton **** who has such thinking
of brutal taking and ill using
by men she should be hating.

How could juices start their flowing 
as crude hands began their probing 
carrying to places far unknowing.
Rough voices talking of their doing, 
arguing ransoms for demanding
then finding her with wet arousing 
cruel laughing at her needing
until there comes a sweet dividing 
of her eager self though darkening
roughly forcing them by wanting 
that she is newly there for taking
captors now in forced confronting.

There can now be no disguising 
that this is life not fantasizing 
these coarse brutes so crudely using
think they’re forcing her submitting 
now she wants them by satisfying 
her every silent wanton needing 
of each to feed obscene desiring.

An iron bed prepared for keeping 
till the time of ransom paying 
fully tight is now her strapping
legs apart, wide spreadeagling
ignoring all her protests mewling 
but her bucking body thrusting 
makes her needing so enticing
till they give her what she’s wanting.

There is now for each unseen taking
a welcoming and wet demanding 
so there can be no inflicting 
that but which is urgent wanting
opening each hole for filling 
not once or twice but oft repeating
taking turns in fully using 
till they are all quite lost in spending.

With captive bound there’s no sating 
screaming begging ne’er abating 
always there is more demanding 
screaming all despite her gagging
each time her body hits climaxing
fighting , dragging now and forcing 
wearied jailers for more pleasuring
ignoring all their worn protesting
incessant in her primal wanting
who is using whom in this not knowing
when captors should be really scaring
but they have never known such needing
standing round and jointly fearing
of chewing less than was their biting
with this nymphomaniac in bareing.

Words in anger, muffled voicing 
some with reason in conferring
then a quick release of bindings 
a body hot for blanket wrapping 
with a fiesty female grappling
cursing now her wild desiring
yet unstilled with needy struggling
tossed in the car for rapid driving 
some miles back by unknown routing
while in the trunk much banging
till on daddy’s doorstep dumping 
ransom now in quick forgetting
as captors with relief escaping
while pretty rich girl leans back smiling
anticipating her next kidnapping.


From my Francesca Anderssen Poetry collection: **** Verse (Amazon)
I have written novels and verse about the interaction between lovers, and consensual activities that form the rich tapestry of living and loving between people who care about each other.

I Hope you like my thoughts.
Tell me if you do---or don't.
Criticism is my lifeblood
The complete book of **** Verse by  Francesca Anderssen (101 ***** poems) is on Amazon in kindle and paperback,

together with my ****** **** novel "Need". also available on amazon
Gino Aug 2013
You always say you hate to see me hurt, and you hate to see me cry. So all those times that you hurt me, did you close your eyes? Sad isn’t it? How no matter what you do or say to me… when you come running back… when you need me again… I’ll be here… right here waiting for you, I’ll take you back… no questions asked. Sad isn’t it?

So… from now on… when you think of me… just remember that I could’ve been the best thing you ever had You hurt me more then I deserve, how can you be so cruel? I love you more then you deserve, why am I such a fool? You asked me what was wrong, I smiled and said nothing, when you turned around and a tear came down and I whispered to myself… everything is.

You wonder why I don’t talk to you anymore and please believe me when I say it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that everything I want to say I can’t tell you anymore I don’t know which I would rather believe… that you never did care or that you eventually stopped Hold my hand, just one more time, so I can remind myself why it is that I can’t get over you I think its time I let you go… and that is hard to do because part of me will be in love with you for the rest of my life.

While I was holding on all you did was let go Sometimes it’s better to be alone. No one can hurt you that way I just wonder how many people never get the one they want, but end up with the one they’re supposed to have The hardest thing about growing up is that you have to do what is right for you even if it means breaking someone’s heart. Including your own.

All I’m asking for is one night together. Just you and me. All alone. And if you can honestly say you don’t feel anything for me after that night, I will finally let you go Sometimes all you need is a broken heart to realize that something even better is right in front of our eyes, just waiting to be found No one can promise they’ll never hurt you because at one time or another, it will happen. The real promise is if the time you spend together will be worth the pain in the end.

The worst feeling in the world is knowing you’ve been used and lied to Maybe they are right. Maybe I did get my hopes up too high. Maybe I was in over my head. Maybe I am the stupid one for ever thinking that you loved me, but maybe, just maybe, I am tired of being alone I don’t know which is worse, being the one with the broken heart or being the person that breaks the hearts It’s not that we aren’t meant to be together, I think that we’re just not ready for forever You always have an out An exit strategy to make sure you don’t get hurt  You always walk always  You walk away before they can walk away from you There were reasons we met, reasons for the good times and reasons bad times, and most importantly a reason to end. We have more to learn, more to experience and more loving to do in this lifetime.

Somehow I know we’ll meet again, not quite sure where and not sure when, your in my heart so until then good-bye If you think you’ve found that one that you really love… make sure they love you back Don’t hate me. Don’t regret me. Don’t even forget me Wherever you go, whatever you do, don’t say I never loved you It’s hard to love someone who’s in love with someone else, you have to ignore the pain and swallow your pride. Just to be a friend… but that’s all worth it because sometimes friendship last longer than love.

I haven’t been around but that doesn’t mean I'm there for  Even when I was acting like a fool I’ve tried to show you in a million ways but nothing ever got through I cut to prove to you that you are not the only one that can hurt me I wish I saved all the tears I cried for you so I could ******* drown you in them Sometimes I love you, Sometimes you make me blue, Sometimes I feel good, At times I feel used. Loving you darling makes me so confused get weak, that is my problem…

But the thing that I want you to see the most is that I survived without you I don’t think I ever felt that good and that bad at the same time in my life Sometimes I have been thinking a lot about growing up, and all of the relationships and broken hearts we go through. I always wonder how many times I said “I love you” to someone  Love is putting up with someone’s bad qualities because they somehow complete you Stop trying to change yourself for a relationship that’s not meant to be Don’t stay because you think “it will get better”. You’ll be mad at yourself a year later for staying when things are not better.

You cannot change a man’s behavior. Change comes from within I may hate myself in the morning But I’m gonna love you tonight Relationships are like glasses. If they break, let them stay broken, you’ll only hurt yourself trying to fix it. At least the pieces still remain Why do we fall for someone, who really isn’t for us?… should we blame ourselves for falling the wrong one. Or… should we blame the one we fell for, because… they made us believe that they are the right one for us?!

There will always be faces you can never look at without emotion and there are names you can never hear spoken without that same old feelings returning. Just when you think you can move on, you’ll remember all the reasons why you held on so long The only thing worse than a broken heart is knowing you’d give him another chance.
I don’t understand why I let myself stay with you, after all the lies and all the tears cried. What makes you so ******* special?

Too often we don’t realize what we have until it’s gone… too often we wait too long to say “I’m sorry, I was wrong” There’s nothing scarier then getting what you want, cause that’s when you really have something to lose.

I’m mad at myself for crying, I don’t even remember the reason but the tears keep flowing and they just wont stop I’m supposed to be strong but everything’s so wrong Maybe sometimes you just have to say what’s in your heart, not just what you think someone wants to hear I’m sorry that I’m not the one you wanted that I made your life ****** up its not telling you how I feel that scares me. Its what you’ll say back that does.

Learn from your past, move on, grow stronger. People are fake, but let your trust last longer. Do what you got to do, but always stay true, and never let anyone get the best of you.

I think it’s time that I let you go. And it’s really hard for me to do because I know that there’s a part of me that will be in love with you for the rest of my life. But this while running in place and day dreaming is just not healthy for either of us.

Not everything’s gonna be picture perfect… Things sometimes take time and have rough times to get through… Before you can get there but if you give up on things you want, everything you’ve gone through ends up being completely worthless If one day you realize that I haven’t talked to you in a while it’s not because I don’t care anymore it’s because you pushed me away and just left me there…

The higher you build the walls around your heart, the harder you fall when someone tears them down.
Just hit play and watch my life fall apart I can’t help myself I don’t want anyone else You are unmistaken ably my first love. Every guy I am with for the rest of my life will be compared to you Hold me when I cry, sleep with me on my drenched pillow, just for one night.
I know it’s hard to love me, but couldn’t you please just try anyway?
Time and time again, I forgave you. I’ve forgiven you for things that I swore to myself I’d never forgive someone for… and here you are, still hurting me, and I still forgive you And these break up songs Are making sense again And I really wish they didn’t.

It’s amazing after all we’ve been through the good times and the bad how we can walk past each other and pretend like it never happened give each other an awkward smile and move on It’s really painful to say goodbye to someone that you don’t want to let go but its even more painful to ask someone to stay if they never wanted to stay.

A sad thing in life is when you meet someone who means a lot to you, only to find out in the end that it was never meant to be and you just have to let go.
You didn’t intentionally break my heart, you even said you were sorry, but I cried anyway… I know the truth that you’re to scared to admit, you’re with her, but when you look at me, you can’t even remember her name

I’m  hurt. I am always getting my heart broken over and over. My heart has so many scars and bruises all over it. I don’t know how much just one heart can
take really, and I don’t really want to find out either.
After a while, you learn the difference between holding a hand, and falling in love. You’ll learn kisses don’t always mean something. Promises can be broken just as easily as they were made, and as hard as it is to believe, sometimes goodbyes are forever.

Life doesn’t hurt until you have time to yourself to think about how things have changed, who you’ve lost along the way, and how much of it is your fault.
It’s like once you’ve been hurt, you’re so scared to get attached again. you have this fear that every person you start to fall for, is just going to break your heart again If you don’t love me at my worst then you don’t deserve me at my best Make me stay Say something sweet and tender and untrue and make me stay.

The hardest thing about knowing you don’t love me
is that you spent so much time pretending that you did Like being in love there must be a corresponding painful side like losing in love, it’s just a fact of life You really know you love someone when all you want is for them to be happy, even if that means that you are not a part of me It’s not my fault if I can’t help looking at you. It’s not my fault if I can’t stop calling you. It’s not my fault I do like you. My only mistake was to fall to much in love with you Sometimes – no matter how long, or how much you love someone, they will never love you back and somehow you have to learn to be okay with that.

If your gonna make me cry, at least be there to wipe away the tears.
I’m holding on to something that used to be there hoping it will come back, knowing it won’t There’s always that one special person that no matter what they do to you, you just cant let them go At first, I cried because I didn’t have you why do I still cry now that I do?
How could you make me love you and then not be there to love me back?

I sit here and think about everything that happened this past week and not a single tear runs down my cheek. Maybe its because I’m too hurt to cry, or maybe I’m just to mad at you Maybe just  its my hearts way of telling me this isn’t over yet What do you do when the only person who can stop your tears is the one making you cry I’d like to think I’ll be happy again, but I really need to just stop and cry now, and sometimes I wish I could just scream at you, and show you what you do to me.

And even though you lied, and even though you pretended to care I can’t seem to get you out of my mind and even though it seems like I should be over you, with every tear that falls, it reminds me of how much I am still in love with you.

Have you ever hated somebody so much that you wish they would just leave and never come back but yet, loved them so much, you knew you'll die if they did?
I’ve been through this pain before I’ve even cried these tears before but to get you back, I’d go through so much more  I’m going to smile like nothings wrong, talk like everythings perfect, act like its just a dream and pretend that she’s not hurting me The truth of the matter is, I still have feelings for you And no matter how many times I tell myself that I’m better off with out you, a part of me just won’t let go I know I made a lot of stupid mistakes in my life, but the worst one was thinking the person who hurt me the most wouldn’t hurt me again.

I feel like I am sitting in a room full of people that I love, and you know what, they just don’t care that I love them. They don’t care whether or not I live or die. To them I’m just another person , just another stranger. To me, they are my best friends, the only people I have left I’m scared to fall in love, scared to fall fast, because every time I fall in love, it never seems to last You’re the reason I live and the reason I die, you’re the reason.

I smile yet break down and cry, you’re the reason I keep going and the reason I fall, cause without you in my life I’m nothing at all I have waited for you for years and I will wait for you for the rest of my life. Even if that means I have to give you up for the rest of my life, I will wait for you.

I’m gonna smile, because I wanna make you happy, laugh, so you won’t see me cry. I’m gonna let you go in style, and even if it kills me, I’m gonna smile.
Love? It’s kind of complicated, but I’ll tell you this the second you’re willing to make yourself miserable to make someone else happy, that’s love right there.

You asked me what was wrong, I smiled and said nothing, when you turned around and a tear came down and I whispered to myself everything is.
I used to think that if I loved you enough you would realize it and love me back,
I don’t know which is worse, keeping your love for someone a secret or telling them and risk being rejected I don’t know which is worse, loving someone knowing its going to cause you pain or being in pain because you can’t love someone It hurts to realize that them people you thought you’d love for life don’t love you as much as you thought they did and can do without you as if they never knew you at all It seems to me that the harder I try the harder I fall.
Ever notice that the people who hurt you the most are the ones you tend to love more It’s funny the way you can get use to the tears and the pain.
No more crying, I can’t cry anymore. Don’t take my hand this time. Just go please and don’t look back, because I know if you did, I’d come running back to you and I can’t do that.

I’m glad you’re happy. I can’t say that I’m completely happy for you but I guess that’s just a part of life, I’ll always have feelings for you but the rest of the world is forcing me to move on.
I would rather leave now still loving you then to leave later hating you.
Broken heart again. Another lesson learned. Better know your friends. Or you will get burned.

Sometimes we must get hurt in order to grow; we must fail in order to know. Sometimes our vision only clears after our eyes are washed away with tears.
Walk home drowning these memories in the rain biting my lip to transfer this pain, your gone and I’m still going through withdrawals, next time around I’ll build a stronger wall You and me are inevitable, you’re all that makes me happy but if you break my heart again, I’ll **** you.

I’ve been laying here all night, listening to the rain. Talking to my heart and trying to explain. Why sometimes I catch myself wondering what might have been. Yes I do think about you, every now and then I’m not afraid of heights, I’m afraid of falling. I’m not scared of the dark, I’m scared of what’s in it. I’m not afraid of love, I’m afraid of not being loved back.

I didn’t ask for it to be over, but then again, I didn’t ask for it to begin. For that’s the way it is with life, as some of the most beautiful days come completely by chance I wish I saved all the tears I cried for you so I could ******* drown you in them.

I hate the way I could never hate you.
I want to cry, I really do, but I guess I just don’t want to give you the satisfaction of knowing that you hurt me once again I remember when I still believed the things you said You can’t just cling on to something because it’s familiar Difficult or easy, pleasant or bitter, you are the same you; I cannot live, with or without you.

This time its over I’m keeping my heart, I’m gonna be strong and not fall apart it’ll get better, I’ll no longer cryin a couple of weeks I won’t want to die, I won’t want to go back. I’ll be able to sleep, it won’t hurt so bad and it won’t hurt so deep!

It hurts to see someone you love ignoring you, it also hurts to see that he doesn’t feel your love. But it hurts even more to know that he loves you too, and just doesn’t want you to know Love is when someone hurts you. And you get so mad but you don’t yell at them because you know it would hurt their feelings I’d rather be your lover then your friend, but I’d rather be your friend then your nobody.

I’ve convinced everyone else that I don’t like you
Nigel Morgan Nov 2012
There’s a film by John Schlesinger called the Go-Between in which the main character, a boy on the cusp of adolescence staying with a school friend on his family’s Norfolk estate, discovers how passion and *** become intertwined with love and desire. As an elderly man he revisits the location of this discovery and the woman, who we learn changed his emotional world forever. At the start of the film we see him on a day of grey cloud and wild wind walking towards the estate cottage where this woman now lives. He glimpses her face at a window – and the film flashes back fifty years to a summer before the First War.
 
It’s a little like that for me. Only, I’m sitting at a desk early on a spring morning about to step back nearly forty years.*
 
It was a two-hour trip from Boston to Booth Bay. We’d flown from New York on the shuttle and met Larry’s dad at St Vincent’s. We waited in his office as he put away the week with his secretary. He’d been in theatre all afternoon. He kept up a two-sided conversation.
 
‘You boys have a good week? Did you get to hear Barenboim at the Tully? I heard him as 14-year old play in Paris. He played the Tempest -  Mary, let’s fit Mrs K in for Tuesday at 5.0 - I was learning that very Beethoven sonata right then. I couldn’t believe it - that one so young could sound –there’s that myocardial infarction to review early Wednesday. I want Jim and Susan there please -  and look so  . . . old, not just mature, but old. And now – Gloria and I went to his last Carnegie – he just looks so **** young.’
 
Down in the basement garage Larry took his dad’s keys and we roared out on to Storow drive heading for the Massachusetts Turnpike. I slept. Too many early mornings copying my teacher’s latest – a concerto for two pianos – all those notes to be placed under the fingers. There was even a third piano in the orchestra. Larry and his Dad talked incessantly. I woke as Dr Benson said ‘The sea at last’. And there we were, the sea a glazed blue shimmering in the July distance. It might be lobster on the beach tonight, Gloria’s clam chowder, the coldest apple juice I’d ever tasted (never tasted apple juice until I came to Maine), settling down to a pile of art books in my bedroom, listening to the bell buoy rocking too and fro in the bay, the beach just below the house, a house over 150 years old, very old they said, in the family all that time.
 
It was a house full that weekend,  4th of July weekend and there would be fireworks over Booth Bay and lots of what Gloria called necessary visiting. I was in love with Gloria from the moment she shook my hand after that first concert when my little cummings setting got a mention in the NYT. It was called forever is now and God knows where it is – scored for tenor and small ensemble (there was certainly a vibraphone and a double bass – I was in love from afar with a bassist at J.). Oh, this being in love at seventeen. It was so difficult not to be. No English reserve here. People talked to you, were interested in you and what you thought, had heard, had read. You only had to say you’d been looking at a book of Andrew Wyeth’s paintings and you’d be whisked off to some uptown gallery to see his early watercolours. And on the way you’d hear a life story or some intimate details of friend’s affair, or a great slice of family history. Lots of eye contact. Just keep the talk going. But Gloria, well, we would meet in the hallway and she’d grasp my hand and say – ‘You know, Larry says that you work too hard. I want you to do nothing this weekend except get some sun and swim. We can go to Johnson’s for tennis you know. I haven’t forgotten you beat me last time we played!’ I suppose she was mid-thirties, a shirt, shorts and sandals woman, not Larry’s mother but Dr Benson’s third. This was all very new to me.
 
Tim was Larry’s elder brother, an intern at Felix-Med in NYC. He had a new girl with him that weekend. Anne-Marie was tall, bespectacled, and supposed to be ferociously clever. Gloria said ‘She models herself on Susan Sontag’. I remember asking who Sontag was and was told she was a feminist writer into politics. I wondered if Anne-Marie was a feminist into politics. She certainly did not dress like anyone else I’d seen as part of the Benson circle. It was July yet she wore a long-sleeved shift buttoned up to the collar and a long linen skirt down to her ankles. She was pretty but shapeless, a long straight person with long straight hair, a clip on one side she fiddled with endlessly, purposefully sometimes. She ignored me but for an introductory ‘Good evening’, when everyone else said ‘Hi’.
 
The next day it was hot. I was about the house very early. The apple juice in the refrigerator came into its own at 6.0 am. The bay was in mist. It was so still the bell buoy stirred only occasionally. I sat on the step with this icy glass of fragrant apple watching the pearls of condensation form and dissolve. I walked the shore, discovering years later that Rachel Carson had walked these paths, combed these beaches. I remember being shocked then at the concern about the environment surfacing in the late sixties. This was a huge country: so much space. The Maine woods – when I first drove up to Quebec – seemed to go on forever.
 
It was later in the day, after tennis, after trying to lie on the beach, I sought my room and took out my latest score, or what little of it there currently was. It was a piano piece, a still piece, the kind of piece I haven’t written in years, but possibly should. Now it’s all movement and complication. Then, I used to write exactly what I heard, and I’d heard Feldman’s ‘still pieces’ in his Greenwich loft with the white Rauschenbergs on the wall. I had admired his writing desk and thought one day I’ll have a desk like that in an apartment like this with very large empty paintings on the wall. But, I went elsewhere . . .
 
I lay on the bed and listened to the buoy out in the bay. I thought of a book of my childhood, We Didn’t Mean to Go to Sea by Arthur Ransome. There’s a drawing of a Beach End Buoy in that book, and as the buoy I was listening to was too far out to see (sea?) I imagined it as the one Ransome drew from Lowestoft harbour. I dozed I suppose, to be woken suddenly by voices in the room next door. It was Tim and Anne-Marie. I had thought the house empty but for me. They were in Tim’s room next door. There was movement, whispering, almost speech, more movement.
 
I was curious suddenly. Anne-Marie was an enigma. Tim was a nice guy. Quiet, dedicated (Larry had said), worked hard, read a lot, came to Larry’s concerts, played the cello when he could, Bach was always on his record player. He and Anne-Marie seemed so close, just a wooden wall away. I stood by this wall to listen.
 
‘Why are we whispering’, said Anne-Marie firmly, ‘For goodness sake no one’s here. Look, you’re a doctor, you know what to do surely.’
 
‘Not yet.’
 
‘But people call you Doctor, I’ve heard them.’
 
‘Oh sure. But I’m not, I’m just a lousy intern.’
 
‘A lousy intern who doesn’t want to make love to me.’
 
Then, there was rustling, some heavy movement and Tim saying ‘Oh Anne, you mustn’t. You don’t need to do this.’
 
‘Yes I do. You’re hard and I’m wet between my legs. I want you all over me and inside me.  I wanted you last night so badly I lay on my bed quite naked and masturbated hoping you come to me. But you didn’t. I looked in on you and you were just fast asleep.’
 
‘You forget I did a 22-hour call on Thursday’.
 
“And the rest. Don’t you want me? Maybe your brother or that nice English boy next door?’
 
‘Is he next door? ‘
 
‘If he is, I don’t care. He looks at me you know. He can’t work me out. I’ve been ignoring him. But maybe I shouldn’t. He’s got beautiful eyes and lovely hands’.
 
There was almost silence for what seemed a long time. I could hear my own breathing and became very aware of my own body. I was shaking and suddenly cold. I could hear more breathing next door. There was a shaft of intense white sunlight burning across my bed. I imagined Anne-Marie sitting cross-legged on the floor next door, her hand cupping her right breast fingers touching the ******, waiting. There was a rustle of movement. And the door next door slammed.
 
Thirty seconds later Tim was striding across the garden and on to the beach and into the sea . . .
 
There was probably a naked young woman sitting on the floor next door I thought. Reading perhaps. I stayed quite still imagining she would get up, open her door and peek into my room. So I moved away from the wall and sat on the bed trying hard to look like a composer working on a score. And she did . . . but she had clothes on, though not her glasses or her hair clip, and she wore a bright smile – lovely teeth I recall.
 
‘Good afternoon’, she said. ‘You heard all that I suppose.’
 
I smiled my nicest English smile and said nothing.
 
‘Tell me about your girlfriend in England.’
 
She sat on the bed, cross-legged. I was suddenly overcome by her scent, something complex and earthy.
 
‘My girlfriend in England is called Anne’.
 
‘Really! Is she pretty? ‘
 
I didn’t answer, but looked at my hands, and her feet, her uncovered calves and knees. I could see the shape of her slight ******* beneath her shirt, now partly unbuttoned. I felt very uncomfortable.
 
‘Tell me. Have you been with this Anne in England?’
 
‘No.’ I said, ‘I ‘d like to, but she’s very shy.’
 
‘OK. I’m an Anne who’s not shy.’
 
‘I’ve yet to meet a shy American.’
 
‘They exist. I could find you a nice shy girl you could get to know.’
 
‘I’d quite like to know you, but you’re a good bit older than me.’
 
‘Oh that doesn’t matter. You’re quite a mature guy I think. I’d go out with you.’
 
‘Oh I doubt that.’
 
‘Would you go out with me?’
 
‘You’re interesting.  Gloria says you’re a bit like Susan Sontag. Yes, I would.’
 
‘Wow! did she really? Ok then, that’s a deal. You better read some Simone de Beauvoir pretty quick,’  and she bounced off the bed.
 
After supper  - lobster on the beach - Gloria cornered me and said. ‘I gather you heard all this afternoon.’
 
I remembered mumbling a ‘yes’.
 
‘It’s OK,’ she said, ‘Anne-Marie told me all. Girls do this you know – talk about what goes on in other people’s bedrooms. What could you do? I would have done the same. Tim’s not ready for an Anne-Marie just yet, and I’m not sure you are either. Not my business of course, but gentle advice from one who’s been there. ‘
 
‘Been where?’
 
‘Been with someone older and supposedly wiser. And remembering that wondering-what-to-do-about-those-feelings-around-*** and all that. There’s a right time and you’ll know it when it comes. ‘
 
She kissed me very lightly on my right ear, then got up and walked across the beach back to the house.
Jeannette Chin Aug 2011
We catch the sunset
while eating
breakfast: ignoring
mothers, ignoring
landlords, skinning our knees
and skipping supper,
using the kitchen with some
improvisation, forgetting to stir
the pasta, blotting bacon
with coffee filters,  
flinging linguini on the walls
and the ceilings (for
if cooked it will cling
but if raw it will fall).
“Is that pasta on the wall?”
“Is it purple?”

Outside a boy
in a dress shirt and a girl in
a paisley skirt walked past
the window, holding hands
and clutching palm
Sunday leaves.

Then the strand of linguini
began to detach itself from
the ceiling, like a break dancer,
with flimsy limbs,
and when it dropped
it fell through the air
like an Olympic
diver, twirling and curling
with two ends clung
to one another
and then unfolding
underwater.
Big Virge Nov 2015
Everybody lacks ... something ...
That's a ... Fact ... !!!  
  
So ...
Let me ask you this ... ?
What do ... You Lack ... ?
  
Do you lack ...  
" Common Sense "  
or .... Confidence ... ???
  
or ...  
Do you lack what it takes ... ?
to forsake what you gain ...
from living ... just for money ...
like these ... Corporate Heads ... !!!
  
Well money ...
" Certainly " .... Pays .... !!!
  
But ....
Does not ... " Allay " ...
Unhappy Days ... !!! ...
  
Ask those ... who take ...
"Every Piece" ... of the cake ... !!!
  
If they say ... Their Cash ... !!!
Removes ... Their Pain ...
They're being ... Fake ... !!!
  
Question .... ?
what they say ... ?
  
If they lost their ...
... " Loved Ones ' ...
  
Could their cash ... Replace ... ?
" Loved Ones " ... who'd placed ...
Smiles on ... Their face ... !!! ? !!! ...
  
The answer is ... NO ... !!!
and this ... They Know ... !!!
  
So ...
Do you lack ...  
" Other things " ... ?
that ... make you think ...  
  
" What is The Point !!?!! "
of ... Making Noise ...  
about the way ...
we live ... today ...
  
Well ...  
that's okay ...
it's been ... that way ...
since the ... early days ...
of ... " Shackled Slaves ! " ...
  
Many lack ... the ability ...
to face ... " The Truth " ... !!!
  
Do those ... last words ...
Apply ... to you ... !!?!! ...
  
Well ...  
If they ... DO ... ?!?
  
You're lacking in food ...
You should ... Consume ... !!!
  
These days ...  
I Lack ... " Patience " ...
with those who are ...
..... " Blatant " .....
  
" Ignorant Fools !!! " ...
  
Those I find ...
with ... " Narrow Minds " ...
who choose to ... move ...
in the land ... of the blind ... !!!
  
Those now inclined ...
to ... Ignoring Signs ... ?!?
that .... " Indicate " ....
  
.......... " New " ...........  
" Troubled Times " ... !!! ...
for ... "Our" ...
" Human Kind " ... !!!
  
But ... if we pressed ...  
  
"CLICK" ...........  

Rewind ...  
  
I'm sure we'd find ...
Many Things ... " Replicated " ...
Like ...... " Old Pastimes " ......  
  
Do you lack ...  ?
The Ability ...
to want to ... " Backtrack " ... ?
  
Can I ask you ...  
" Freely " ... ?
  
Why are you ... like that ... ???
  
Afraid of what you'll see ... ??!??
or ... what you'll ... FIND ...
that'll ... EXPOSE ... Lies ...
"Cleverly" ... disGuiSed ...
to keep ... The Truth ...
  
hidden ......
  
..... From .....  
" Enquiring Minds ? " ...
  
  
This seems to be ...
... " Planned " ... !?!
  
to ... Ensure Most ...
..... " Lack " .....  
  
" The Ability " .....
  
to deal with ... FACTS ...  
  
Like .....
Why are women ...
Soooo hard ... to understand ... ???
  
In the very beginning ....
They're ... HARD to ATTRACT ... !!!!!
  
If ....  
You're a man ...
who ... HOLDS ... Your Stance ...
THAT ... You give a **** ...
" About " ... Their Needs ...  
  
while those who ... Lack ...
such ..... " Courtesies " .....  
seem to get ... ***** ...
  
Like .... " Next one please !!! "
  
Girls who ... LACK ...
any ... Common Sense ...
are those ... I don't want ...
inside ..... My Bed ..... !!!!!!!!!!
  
But ....
Hell Yes ... Yeah ...
  
I'll pass through theirs' ... !!!!!
  
Now ....
Hear me out girls ...  
Don't take ... Offence ... !!!!!
  
But ....
Too Many ... of you ...
Pick The  ....
  
"Wrong ****** Men ?!?"  
  
Again and Again .....
Your Case ... CLEARLY ...
Has .... " No Defence " ... !!!!!
  
These days ...
There's a .... LACK ....
of ... " Good ol' ... FUN ... !!!
  
Especially with ...
A ... " Good Woman ! " ...
  
..... " Relationships " .....
seem to end ... So Quick ... !!!
  
Before ... " Love's Able " ...
to get a .... " GRIP !!! " ....
and have a chance to ...
  
........ " Sit " .........
  
at the ... Dinner Table ...
That's ... " REALITY " ...
and is ... " No Fable ! " ...
  
Like .... Cain and Abel ...
  
Things are ... CLEARLY ...
Quite .... " Unstable " .... !!!!!
  
Like ... reception through ...
Those ... " Dodgy Cables ! ' ...
  
No ... MTV ...
or ... Sky TV ...
  
But ...  
Here's the link ...
So take ... THIS IN ... !!!
  
There's now a ... LACK ...
of ..... " RELIABILITY " .....
in how .... People ....
Now Seem ... to be ... !!!!!
  
"I'll call you tonight !"
  
"Cool, that's just fine,
I should be home,
by, half past nine,
don't let me down,
I don't like to be clowned !!!"
  
"Trust me man,
I will ring you !!!"
  
" Haven't heard from  
..... THAT FOOL .....
for a whole week now ...
if he calls me with ...
A Poor excuse ...
My mouth is gonna,
leave him ... Schooled ...
and make him ... frown ...
with the words ... I Choose ... !!! "
  
I just can't stand ....
when people .... LACK ....
  
..... " Reliability " ..... !!!!!!!!!!!
  
or ... is it ... Just Me ... ?!?
  
Asking ... TOO MUCH ... !!!
to hope that .... Some ....
  
"Good Ones" ... are left ... !!!
who are .... " Reliable " ....
from ... Start to End ... !!!
  
and deal in ...  
" Honesty " ...

as well as ...
" Respect " ...
  
People ... You TRULY ..
can call ... Your Friends ... !!!!!
  
Well ....
One thing ... I Don't Lack ... !
is a will to ... " Express " ...
through poetry .... sent ....
to my .... Notepad .... !!! ....
  
So ... now it's time ...
to end ... This Rhyme ...  
  
About ....  
Some Things ....
  
That ... WE ALL ...  
...... " Lack " ...... !!!!!
  
But ....
If you think ....
  
You DON"T ... Lack Anything ... ???  
  
Let me just say this ....
  
You are ... DREAMING ... !!!!!!!!!
  
EVERYONE ...  
Lacks something ....
  
That's just ... FACT ... !!!!!!!
  
So .....
Be HONEST ... with yourself ...
  
What Do ... You ... ?
  
........ Lack ........ ???
We ALL ... Lack something, as the piece says ....Dunno what really inspired this, but, clearly one day, the question entered my mind !
Skaidrum Jun 2015
.
Ancient games
tell tales of dust.  |||   A story drawn
from the lips of two poets.



~~~~~


It's the wits that ****, not Queens of ivory or ink. *
Charged with
coal strokes, scraping up the lies.
Pawns & Knights slip between the grasp of the sun, leaking into
   lion jaws of Leo.
Shifting these granite plates, ignoring the Rooks common price of aslant.
Here we have slain kin, crescent traitors that backstab the night and battlefield.
Closed doors and trap floors, trade me a tie, swindling your tactic ruts.
Reality never got the noose around our necks, check turned into manslaughter, and kingdoms ripped asunder by the roar of Jupiter
Get up, get up, get away from these liars, they can't have your rank or your fire.
Peak a notion, this match is spared by a luft.
Toss away the pride buried 'neath your dusty skin, it don't matter no more if   death has you by the lips.
Silence is a language too in our eyes of earth.
Take my hand, knott your soul into this downfall, and brace yourself for the wreckage in our bones.
The Sword of Sorrows will fall 'pon your shoulders, not to slay thee, but to dub thee a new day.
The drums of war will knit the lyrics in the sky,
singing:
"The mighty sharpen their fangs, the weak sharpen their wisdom"
~~~~~
I'm tired of your wishbones, and golden scales, give me the hard-earned truth.
Hot coals of honesty may you tread upon, shadow-bitten remorseful may you be, don't stray off the course of Ursa major.
The North star isn't the one I follow
It's the moon with all of it's phases,
Eclipsing and crescent, tipping the sky with it's beauty.
Now let this sink further than any soul has ever sunk,
no man could ever
rule the moon.
~~~~~~
Shoot on command,
C
h    
      e
c  
      k
m
a
t      
e

~~~~
You could drag me to hell and back and those words wouldn't mean anything.
Let this downfall become a *downfell,

Because last I checked
"Wolves worship the moon"
and I have broke it's reflection in the water
Just
by
throwing
s                    
t          
o
         n
                 e
                              s
                               ­        .

.
A collab between
The Dragon Prince & Skaidrum.

I'll give most credit to
Kalum here.

© Copywrite The Dragon Prince & Skaidrum
Jake O'Donnell Jun 2017
Currently online.

Two chat heads active.
My fragile heart though, in one.

Friends online: 87.
Last seen: 16:43.
Really, ignoring me?

But who are you talking to?
Delivered. Delivered. Is this deliberate?
Are you busy, are you with someone? Who is he?
Don't you see what you do to me?

— Minutes since message sent: 320 or more,
Years together: best part of four.
I’m not counting but
Is he the one from your instagram?

Friends nearby: 6.
Last seen: 23:55.
Nevermind.

Flick up to clear all apps,
And with that my heart,

Night.
dmperez Feb 2017
me ignoring you
    ignoring me.

     /#dmperez
Mitchell Duran Feb 2013
Goodbye Prague, to a city I never thought I'd know.
Goodbye Prague, to a heaven that is lined with shattered beer bottles and stamped out cigarettes the junkies and the hobo's here still manage to get a  few puffs out of.
Goodbye Prague, to a hell that was once hovering with the feelings of control, manipulation, and more control, but now is twirling top speed to a land unknown.
Goodbye Prague, you seductive ***** with your cheap liquor, beer, and cigarettes, smelling of aged mahogany mixed finely with an acidic burst of fresh *****.
Goodbye Prague, I do not know when I will see you again, but I hope that I do and that I never grow so old that I forget you.
Goodbye to your abstract animals smeared black, screaming in the exploding summer sun. Goodbye to freshly cut pigs heads and cow flesh, hanging in your storefront window, tempting every passerby like the *****'s of Amsterdam.
Goodbye to every cobblestone that shines after a fresh rain or snow, slippery to the newcomer, an annoyance to the amateur, thoughtless to the old timer.
Goodbye to the potraviny's stocked with two crown marked up ***** and space vegetables shaped and colored in a one and only kind of vernacular; without you, I would have half-drunkenly stumbled home towards dreams of menial headaches and shadowy beer or perhaps to The Oak to drink alone.
I scream so long through faint puffs of carbon nicotine clouds made illuminated by the icy orange street lamps 800 years old glow!
I scream so long to late metro's and early trams!
I scream so long to the roaring rocks who reflect the faces of aging clocks!
So long to passed out bums and unforgiving metro officers. So long to dollar fifty beers and the fear of getting deported. So long with counting silver crown to make even, seeing my math prowess has lessened. So long embedded needles and bottle caps deep within the snowy cobble. So long listless wanders all their money thrown away until the month of May comes to knock on their door. So long alleyway romance 100 crown notes and old men in their rickety fishermen boats. So long sad masked faces who in their forward march sit stunned seeing fortune picks only some. So long through the grey mist stabbed with neon signs that attract the youth and the mad. So long to the feeling everything I had to say was the wrong thing. So long to feelings of foreign familiarity whose ball and chain were slowly starting to rust away. So long in song to the player's of Riegrovy hill whose voices I just couldn't stand. So long I've come to understand everyone's got a choice to live or wish they did. So long to the wide swept hills of Petrin, where angel's of lore go to rest atop dusted fresh snow, among the dotted new born vine. So long to the sound of wet metal against metal, a scream of order carried on the blue man's shoulder. So long to a city whose architecture reminds me of old men's faces and whose color reminds me of elderly women's dresses. So long to smoking in front of children without a second thought for their health. So long to racism that is wicked, but grunted genially - the executioner smiles at the accused - the gravedigger's weep for the dead - the ant makes a break for a hill not his. So long forlorn love whose only remedy for a cure is the beer sitting in front of you. So long to wondering what's going on in the world, when all I want and got is what's right in front of me.
Farewell Prague, you shadowed street walker, a cloak of stars around you, finding all that owe you  your due.
Farewell Prague, you in the morning eyes half mast, snow crunching underneath stony white.
Farewell Prague, miss-handler of crooked time pieces stating the obvious, ignoring to blame bluntly on youthful alcohol abuse.
Farewell Prague, you took me up the hill and through the woods where ravens, black as gutter ice, crackled down at me like showers of New Year's fireworks.
Farewell Prague, you gave me peace where I once thought I was unable to have.
Farewell Prague, you befriended me, then ordered me a shot that made me cough, then ordered me a beer so we could sit and truly feel what it is to sit and wallow in our time here.
Farewell Prague, you entranced me with view after view to a city to stubborn to die.
Farewell Prague, I leave you like you would leave me.
Farewell Prague, to your fat snow flakes that drop into wide eyed children mouths, tasting of iron whiskey rye, though they do not flinch at the taste.
Farewell Prague, I leave you with a hush of a whimper, bitter as the cold, and indifferent as the server's over at Cafe Lourve.
Farewell Prague, with a thousand miles of graveyards, where ghosts barely have the strength to weep.
Farewell Prague, I admit I never knew how to love until I came to visit you.
Farewell Prague, as I stare out your cracked and smoky tram windows, my thoughts not my own, shop windows and naked, screaming men, their cigarettes bouncing in between their lips like a jack of spades on smack, where at last we see that life is only a worth a **** if lived.
Farewell Prague, I see the cards there on the table and you're winking at me while I stand at the backdoor, and what's more, there's a secret you've got to give that I refuse believe.
Farewell Prague, to your open sore catastrophe of society, KFC on every block, and Starbuck's on every other, and on the other other are the lined' wino's shaking open handed and spread for a case of cardboard vino.
Farewell Prague, to the nasty smoker's in trams that just stopped caring.
Farewell Prague, to a city rhythm generated by an ignorant originality and uniqueness, where the same has no name and the the plain jabber on about their jobs in their pretty blue jeans.
Farewell Prague, because to say goodbye would mean we don't have that friendly tone.
Farewell Prague, I see to sacrifice oneself for the comfort of the elder or the opposite fills me with agitated obligation stationed in a vessel older than I've ever lived - yet I know it, for it is me.
Farewell Prague, you are a lost lullaby caught in the wind of an elastic multi-colored pin-wheel, shining riches of the rainbow into the eyes of children, who all whistle when they snore.
Farewell Prague, a button upon the Earth, like every man.
Farewell Prague, a love song sung in the depths of a damp grey hall, rivers all around, so the sounds too much to drink were outlandish in high emotion, juvenile commotion.
Farewell Prague, we were young - not caring about the future, but of course, with worry in our hearts for worry is a sign of human being human; yet, still, we asked nothing of one another and you gave and I gave and you took and I took and we walked underneath one another's blanket's until we were no longer cold and the winter showed to be just an annoying individual at the party.
Farewell Prague, to your lack of complications, making simplicities acceptable again.
Farewell Prague, to the snow that never stops falling, all while slumbering within dream until the seam is ripped so the old can die.
Farewell Prague, I've shined every marble staircase and washed every tram window; you owe me nothing because I like you.
Farewell Prague, to the long nights bleeding away at the table alone, the lady fast asleep, lit by the dim orange glow of the twisted streetlights below.
Farewell Prague, to the long nights forgetting pains of existence and accepting every solution to ward of resistance.
Farewell Prague, our long talks and hovering walks, always forcing me to balk.
Farewell Prague, at last you got the praise you have always deserved.
Farewell Prague, to hot humid nights filled with *** and butter in the summer and cold bitten cold of ***** and juice a la winter.
Farewell Prague, to bad service but good drink and food.
Farewell Prague, you curious tale the bravest man would waver to say.
Farewell Prague, to bridges galore and more dead leaves then wrinkles on my crooked face.
Farewell Prague, at night the sheen of liquor wears off only if you let it be so.
Farewell Prague, to all the those lonely mornings bent head into book on the way to work.
Farewell Prague, how long till you grow to be young again?
Farewell Prague, how long till I admit my defeat to you?
Farewell Prague, how long until I accept I'm the last fool in this world?
Goodbye Prague, the last soldier is standing, but the war is not yet won.
Goodbye Prague, to your hazy stars glimmering and shining for an indebted audience.
Goodbye Prague, the sun breaking through ink spilled colored clouds, the birds chirping, the dogs barking, and us wondering where we started.
Goodbye Prague, your churches are empty so the sins of man run rampant and at last the prayers of men go unanswered; we now abandoned to fend for ourselves.
Goodbye Prague, the puncturing purity of your ways make me giggle in delight as I listen to the cool piano man play; his eyes on the horizon shattering like toppled china.
Goodbye Prague, at last there is a time where we both get what we want.
Goodbye Prague, the verandas are chilled with the dew of winter and the snow glitters like bitter diamonds as the fool tips his hat to shy away the sunlight.
Goodbye Prague, every rain drop that fell upon me was a gift you can never take away.
Goodbye Prague, the fool adheres to agnostic rules but the cruel here see no reason to sue.
Goodbye Prague, I think therefore the dust of escape reflects the waves of the river Vlatva.
Goodbye Prague, to your lack of vowels.
Goodbye Prague, when the night wavers hear the Beherovka weep into its own glass, love leaving her forever making no note to Kissy.
Goodbye Prague, tram driver's unforgiving in their merciless need for schedule.
Goodbye Prague, the last homage to the war standing like a shining diamond neath chipped and shattered rubble.
Goodbye Prague, a listless memory mentioned only in drifting dream.
Goodbye Prague, every loving glance smelling of freshly poured beer over newly fallen snow.
Goodbye Prague, to your hardness, your beauty, and your madness.
Goodbye Prague, your days wet with rain, stricken by sunlight, reflecting white emerald into the window panes of passing trains.
Goodbye Prague, at last you got what you deserved.
Goodbye Prague, now I can weep and say I have trampled upon your cheek and slunk through your veins and trudged through your blood and skipped through your hair and saw every line - both sought after and nought - you have acquired through time.
Goodbye Prague, there is no reason to get excited, you are free.
Goodbye Prague, I see the silhouette of the trees that line your hills and I am forsaken to see the leaves turning from jovial yellow greens to disregarded and disparaged furnaces of dim fire reds and browns.
Goodbye Prague, the people within you deserved all of the credit.
Good Prague, the people outside of you deserve what ever they believe they do.
Goodbye Prague, you family to families with common sense and love rampaging through your barley stained veins.
Goodbye Prague, perhaps there is nothing under your rubble, maybe already all is lost for everyone, everywhere, but maybe, you living the simpler life, can show all that life can be so.
Goodbye Prague, you gave me letters, words, lines, commas, apostrophes, and dashes, paragraphs, pages, and eventually, a story; I leave you marked.
Goodbye Prague, an old friend whose hand I shook but knew would one day turn my back on.
Goodbye Prague, the bite of your cold generosity and your bustling love leaves man with nothing but to bike back with no chance of triumph.
Goodbye Prague, street cleaners clean up your wear and tear from the mothers and fathers that bore you, some 800 years ago; ageless, you loom longer than they would like.
Goodbye Prague, battling sleep as the ***** raps for more and more, none that the man has.
Goodbye Prague, the night is curling in as the wave crashes to the short and I am the lost sun looking for a place to rise, trying to get to the sky.
All you have to offer me is broken English
but what you get in return is a broken heart!
"Hi cute pic u me friend?" you ping me randomly;
I am sorry dude,my picture didn't respond!

Not just you,but all the guys from your clan
have a typical dressing style that I can note from your photos.
A smug face,bright colored clothes,unkempt hair;
cigarette burnt lips and alcohol shot eyes!

Don't judge me, I am just sharing my observation
but I appreciate your perseverance of sending multiple messages!
"Hey u","Reply and expect* me","Don't put scene^","Fraandship#??","Change new pic"
and all I could think of is "Not happening bro!!"

Wondering why I wrote this ode to you?!
You are a hero man! An unsung hero in your own world!
When science and technology advances,when countries and continents fight and make up
all you can think of is this random girl who is ignoring you!Talk about goal-oriented!!

You have a dumpy old computer with an internet connection and a Facebook account
and you want to have girls who you don't even know;You are more ambitious than Shakespeare's Brutus!
You get irritated looks from all the girls you stalk,
Yet you are unaffected as you never get to know that!!

I envy your spirit, I envy your hard-work!!
Burning the midnight oil to get ignored by girls you don't even know!
Though you stalk this much, in reality you are shy to even talk!
You are a mystery, a dark knight I might say!!

Whatever anyone says, I know you wont give up!!
You are a big challenge for all those privacy setting developers,
you creep and crawl through the web so much and still
you always remain -A random stalker!!
*Accept
^Don't show off
#Friendship

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