Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Words
"illegally" poems
Four blocks down, A man who never gives the same name Stands every day selling condoms With Tiger’s face telling us to “Protect Our Wood”, And next to him is the vendor where I just bought my new favorite scarf. His name is Lorenzo. He’s 6 foot 4, Old school Italian, and after two months I’ve yet to see him wear the same shoes twice. Natalie played softball in high school. She now owns a hot dog stand just outside That I’ve seen fifty people wait in line for. After a heartfelt conversation we had On a certain rainy Thursday morning, Natalie now throws me a free Polish sausage with peppers Once in a while when I open my second story window. She hasn’t missed once. My one neighbor is a Latina grandmother named Sofia. She brought her kids here illegally, And they’ve since used their success To cut all ties to dear old Mexico And to her. I eat with her once a week, And we share cooking recipes And small tales about life BNY (Before New York). There’s a homeless man downtown Whose sign says “A quarter a day Keeps my teeth off your leg”, And ever since he’s proven it to me I’ve dropped fifty cents a day, Hoping for extra protection. When my friends from college come to visit, They were all curious about Lorenzo’s shoes And Natalie’s pitching arm And when Sofia’s daughter would show up (Tyler had a thing for hispanic girls). I never tried to explain, because I never felt the need to know the answer myself. All I cared about were Natalie’s smile, Sofia’s homemade tortilla chips, And how a guy like Lorenzo ended up in New York City selling scarves.
0
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 2:03 PM UTC
charlotte-kemp
Big City Dreams
Four blocks down, A man who never gives the same name Stands every day selling condoms With Tiger’s face telling us to “Protect Our Wood”, And next to him is the vendor where I just bought my new favorite scarf. His name is Lorenzo. He’s 6 foot 4, Old school Italian, and after two months I’ve yet to see him wear the same shoes twice. Natalie played softball in high school. She now owns a hot dog stand just outside That I’ve seen fifty people wait in line for. After a heartfelt conversation we had On a certain rainy Thursday morning, Natalie now throws me a free Polish sausage with peppers Once in a while when I open my second story window. She hasn’t missed once. My one neighbor is a Latina grandmother named Sofia. She brought her kids here illegally, And they’ve since used their success To cut all ties to dear old Mexico And to her. I eat with her once a week, And we share cooking recipes And small tales about life BNY (Before New York). There’s a homeless man downtown Whose sign says “A quarter a day Keeps my teeth off your leg”, And ever since he’s proven it to me I’ve dropped fifty cents a day, Hoping for extra protection. When my friends from college come to visit, They were all curious about Lorenzo’s shoes And Natalie’s pitching arm And when Sofia’s daughter would show up (Tyler had a thing for hispanic girls). I never tried to explain, because I never felt the need to know the answer myself. All I cared about were Natalie’s smile, Sofia’s homemade tortilla chips, And how a guy like Lorenzo ended up in New York City selling scarves.
Continue reading...
42
wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer the aussie thing to do then they go off to the pub and say wanna beer to you i didn’t know what to say at first these people do like me, yeah they think i am cool very very cool yeah they enjoy my company a lot wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer ya see the aussie thing wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer and a hamburger with the lot ya see ya go to the footy and the first thing you hear is wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer the aussie thing to do then you go off to the city to a nightclub, a man blows his cigarette smoke right in your face you say what, are you doing, then you say wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer the aussie thing to do you see you think your a man but you look like a hooligan yeah, your aussie mate true blue you look rough and ready to punch the guy next to you and then you say wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer the aussie thing to do wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer better being a true blue you see they look ***** and very very rude as they say wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer the aussie thing to do you go to the footy and then the cricket and then off to the pub and park illegally and you get yourself a ticket the police have arrested you, then they let you go and the first thing you say is wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer the aussie thing to do you see there is nothing wrong with the australian way of life as long as they just leave me to do my own thing i would love to have a packet of crisps but i hear this wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer the aussie the aussie the aussie thing to do, MATE
0
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 12:10 AM UTC
johnny-georgy-brown
wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer etc aussies
wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer the aussie thing to do then they go off to the pub and say wanna beer to you i didn’t know what to say at first these people do like me, yeah they think i am cool very very cool yeah they enjoy my company a lot wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer ya see the aussie thing wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer and a hamburger with the lot ya see ya go to the footy and the first thing you hear is wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer the aussie thing to do then you go off to the city to a nightclub, a man blows his cigarette smoke right in your face you say what, are you doing, then you say wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer the aussie thing to do you see you think your a man but you look like a hooligan yeah, your aussie mate true blue you look rough and ready to punch the guy next to you and then you say wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer the aussie thing to do wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer better being a true blue you see they look ***** and very very rude as they say wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer the aussie thing to do you go to the footy and then the cricket and then off to the pub and park illegally and you get yourself a ticket the police have arrested you, then they let you go and the first thing you say is wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer the aussie thing to do you see there is nothing wrong with the australian way of life as long as they just leave me to do my own thing i would love to have a packet of crisps but i hear this wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer the aussie the aussie the aussie thing to do, MATE
Continue reading...
44
Let me tell you the story of my death: Carving words on the bark of a tree A poem that means life to me. Glows through night, my soul delights!         *"Exist beyond my death, oh please...             So I could live in bliss at least."* But they cut the tree, so mindlessly Illegally. **** selfishly! In chainsaw, I was murdered.         *A massacre,       ... a massacre of my every being!!* I'm a ghost that forgot, the best in me Now writes relentlessly To relive the words, once killed in greed I found the "papers", the poems you lead... Then before me, is some piece of me they killed. I died a hero,
0
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 9:03 AM UTC
theblindseeker12
Chain-Sawed
Let me tell you the story of my death: Carving words on the bark of a tree A poem that means life to me. Glows through night, my soul delights!         *"Exist beyond my death, oh please...             So I could live in bliss at least."* But they cut the tree, so mindlessly Illegally. **** selfishly! In chainsaw, I was murdered.         *A massacre,       ... a massacre of my every being!!* I'm a ghost that forgot, the best in me Now writes relentlessly To relive the words, once killed in greed I found the "papers", the poems you lead... Then before me, is some piece of me they killed. I died a hero,
Continue reading...
18
21st century slavery: Shayn Powell Take a look around, It’s 2018. What do you see? Everything looks fine, People striding in glee? Look hard for it may Be a mystery, That we’re living through 21st century slavery. We claim these are The lands of the free. It’s a fib, that’s not at All what it seems. Because if it were the land of the free than Martin Luther King may never have had his dream. There wouldn’t have Been a march for Freedom in 1963. And Mr King wouldn’t Have lost his life For standing up in What everyone Should've believed. Take a look around, It’s 2018. What do you see? Everything looks fine, People striding in glee? Look hard for it may Be a mystery, That were living through 21st century slavery. America, “land of the free” Were fine we claim, living in prosperity. “Everyone’s equal”, You’ve heard it too, How silly Don’t you agree? My best friend Rolled his window up when he saw a policeman. It’s sad, But this is the reality we live in. “We’re equal” but we Strip kids from their dreams Because they were brought here Against their will illegally. Have some leniency, Then again you’re changing their scenery.   How can you do that So easily? And what’s this **** we learned in history? Jim Crow laws? Thank god those are gone. Or so we thought You’re not sneaky America, Mass incarceration is Nothing but a plot For a group of minorities To be 2nd class citizens To us all. That’s evil that should leave everyone appalled. It’s time for a call For action. All this arrogance Has left us distracted From what our nation claims to practice. Because Take a look around, It’s 2018. What do you see? Everything’s NOT fine, People AREN'T striding in glee. Really look for it’s Not hard to see That were living through 21st century slavery. Yours truly, That worried white kid Who lives in a society That’s unruly.
0
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 10:17 PM UTC
ShaynPowell
21st Century Slavery
21st century slavery: Shayn Powell Take a look around, It’s 2018. What do you see? Everything looks fine, People striding in glee? Look hard for it may Be a mystery, That we’re living through 21st century slavery. We claim these are The lands of the free. It’s a fib, that’s not at All what it seems. Because if it were the land of the free than Martin Luther King may never have had his dream. There wouldn’t have Been a march for Freedom in 1963. And Mr King wouldn’t Have lost his life For standing up in What everyone Should've believed. Take a look around, It’s 2018. What do you see? Everything looks fine, People striding in glee? Look hard for it may Be a mystery, That were living through 21st century slavery. America, “land of the free” Were fine we claim, living in prosperity. “Everyone’s equal”, You’ve heard it too, How silly Don’t you agree? My best friend Rolled his window up when he saw a policeman. It’s sad, But this is the reality we live in. “We’re equal” but we Strip kids from their dreams Because they were brought here Against their will illegally. Have some leniency, Then again you’re changing their scenery.   How can you do that So easily? And what’s this **** we learned in history? Jim Crow laws? Thank god those are gone. Or so we thought You’re not sneaky America, Mass incarceration is Nothing but a plot For a group of minorities To be 2nd class citizens To us all. That’s evil that should leave everyone appalled. It’s time for a call For action. All this arrogance Has left us distracted From what our nation claims to practice. Because Take a look around, It’s 2018. What do you see? Everything’s NOT fine, People AREN'T striding in glee. Really look for it’s Not hard to see That were living through 21st century slavery. Yours truly, That worried white kid Who lives in a society That’s unruly.
Continue reading...
88
Thugs with Pens & Aerosol Cans Thugs with Pens Hell-bent; not on cultism Just airing the other sentiments That don’t make it to primetime Thugs with pens Not poking out eyes Just venting spleen Sick of the lies Thugs with pens Deserve to be heard They don’t poison your brain With stacks of ***** Thugs with pens And aerosol cans Can change your mind In ******* time Thugs with pens Can make a dent They don’t need to insert Un-readable, un-interesting Covert small print.... Thugs with pens Don’t need no script writers Or advisors nor signatories Witnesses, nor dodgy men With gold plated fountain pen nibs To make amends Or throw in no hidden clauses That secretly **** your life blood Thugs with pens Don’t aim to pierce your skin But make their mark Deeper within Thugs with pens And aerosol cans Completely uncensored champions of free speech The establishment want suppressed, silenced, deleted; terminated. Thugs with pens And aerosol cans don’t Schedule meetings To fix the minutes And schedule another meeting And keep ‘minutes’ As square angled And unproductive As formal conversation Thugs with pens Aim venomous ink At headless politicians That squawks like chickens Bending over For the ************* Bank-beefing corporations, Controlling the masses With ***** little catchphrases And mounds of munitions And illegally enforced restrictions On your movement and free expression Honest men Have nothing to fear From Thugs with Pens & Aerosol Cans These “thugs” seek asylum From countries Where the law’s Not bought and bent Thugs with pens & aerosol cans Are made to wear monikers and masks Thugs with pens Don’t turn on its own Neighbours and citizens To perpetuate myths: A ****** ************* lie… A thing that never happened! (That’s for all of you dumb wits out there Who believe most of the **** That’s drip fed Your sensation addicted minds Most of the time,) Time you started reading between the lines In fact get a pen Or an aerosol can Write your own lines Start broadcasting Reclaim your space Before you’re completely neoned Into the shade And corralled under the spell Of a TV screen Or an anger raising headline That conducts the flow Of the status quo Load up your magazines With ball point pens And sharp edged writing nibs, Strap on a belt of aerosol cans Reclaim your right to free expression In public spaces Join the rag-tag army Of intuitive Self-knowing men The End: is well begun, George Orwell Should never have written That blueprint, ‘1984’
0
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 8:59 AM UTC
kieran-conway
Thugs with Pens
Thugs with Pens & Aerosol Cans Thugs with Pens Hell-bent; not on cultism Just airing the other sentiments That don’t make it to primetime Thugs with pens Not poking out eyes Just venting spleen Sick of the lies Thugs with pens Deserve to be heard They don’t poison your brain With stacks of ***** Thugs with pens And aerosol cans Can change your mind In ******* time Thugs with pens Can make a dent They don’t need to insert Un-readable, un-interesting Covert small print.... Thugs with pens Don’t need no script writers Or advisors nor signatories Witnesses, nor dodgy men With gold plated fountain pen nibs To make amends Or throw in no hidden clauses That secretly **** your life blood Thugs with pens Don’t aim to pierce your skin But make their mark Deeper within Thugs with pens And aerosol cans Completely uncensored champions of free speech The establishment want suppressed, silenced, deleted; terminated. Thugs with pens And aerosol cans don’t Schedule meetings To fix the minutes And schedule another meeting And keep ‘minutes’ As square angled And unproductive As formal conversation Thugs with pens Aim venomous ink At headless politicians That squawks like chickens Bending over For the ************* Bank-beefing corporations, Controlling the masses With ***** little catchphrases And mounds of munitions And illegally enforced restrictions On your movement and free expression Honest men Have nothing to fear From Thugs with Pens & Aerosol Cans These “thugs” seek asylum From countries Where the law’s Not bought and bent Thugs with pens & aerosol cans Are made to wear monikers and masks Thugs with pens Don’t turn on its own Neighbours and citizens To perpetuate myths: A ****** ************* lie… A thing that never happened! (That’s for all of you dumb wits out there Who believe most of the **** That’s drip fed Your sensation addicted minds Most of the time,) Time you started reading between the lines In fact get a pen Or an aerosol can Write your own lines Start broadcasting Reclaim your space Before you’re completely neoned Into the shade And corralled under the spell Of a TV screen Or an anger raising headline That conducts the flow Of the status quo Load up your magazines With ball point pens And sharp edged writing nibs, Strap on a belt of aerosol cans Reclaim your right to free expression In public spaces Join the rag-tag army Of intuitive Self-knowing men The End: is well begun, George Orwell Should never have written That blueprint, ‘1984’
Continue reading...
109
You swell some strain on me, You, middle kingdom! Eradicating small detachments, Of both sailors and marines. They were ranked on islets and reefs, With an integer of nine – There in the island next to me, I’m sure, you know who Spratly is. Always wanting such detachment To be eradicated by your own; Now stationed On a World War II era landing ship. Your toy-ships came near me, With 9-kilometer of the LST. “It’s there illegally,” How adamant that be! I’ve tipped you off already, Surely will I stand firm! Then, you’ve countered me on! – Opting for the ******** of more skyscrapers; Those that are on stilts; Now nearby two Reefs & a Bank? – Nearby my darling Palawan Island! “There is no room at all,” For the negotiation on some point, You’ve declared. Oh, here’s my friend, U.S. Left us with course of action to try; Everyone calm down, Be less provocative. For often, he flies over; Probing some stuffs. You are the biggest offender, my friend; In this dispute, you show no sign of slowing; Or backing, down. But hey, I won’t give up! (9/9/13)
0
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
psalmiseta
Islet of Dispute
You swell some strain on me, You, middle kingdom! Eradicating small detachments, Of both sailors and marines. They were ranked on islets and reefs, With an integer of nine – There in the island next to me, I’m sure, you know who Spratly is. Always wanting such detachment To be eradicated by your own; Now stationed On a World War II era landing ship. Your toy-ships came near me, With 9-kilometer of the LST. “It’s there illegally,” How adamant that be! I’ve tipped you off already, Surely will I stand firm! Then, you’ve countered me on! – Opting for the ******** of more skyscrapers; Those that are on stilts; Now nearby two Reefs & a Bank? – Nearby my darling Palawan Island! “There is no room at all,” For the negotiation on some point, You’ve declared. Oh, here’s my friend, U.S. Left us with course of action to try; Everyone calm down, Be less provocative. For often, he flies over; Probing some stuffs. You are the biggest offender, my friend; In this dispute, you show no sign of slowing; Or backing, down. But hey, I won’t give up! (9/9/13)
Continue reading...
37
while the debate goes on and on, as to which country has the longest, continuous democratic parliament, have it on on good authority that the subject above, is it better to love your kids too much than not enough? was the first among all temporal discussions ever held, despite periodic tabling, the debate remains unresolved, the question unsettled even after 1000 years+ of argumentation when over time, Universal Adult Suffrage finally came to be, the debate became renewable, enflamed, divisive most contentiously, various coming down on each side of a point of view topically since mother, father and child, i.e. pretty much everyone, definitionally, claimed total expertise, and sparing the rod was deemed by most to be illegally, no plebiscite, amendment or ballot initiative was resolved resolutely, the beat goes on continuously as new children reach voting age, sagaciously repeating their view, personally my view? I’ve tried both and failed equally so I’ve little to contribute, so let it be stated in manner unequivocally, the sweet sensibility says too well, but helicopters crash and monied snowplows run over other both their own and others better deserving, leaving all of them buried in snow piles street side, while those who blame their faults on insufficient love, are later most demanding more attention than any, having becoming painfully hardy, by being treated hard about, hard on themselves and worse to others everyone knows the answer to this question for themselves but I’ll leave you with this, permitting a child to fail is a winning strategy, as long as there is no legal limit regarding the amount or frequency on lifetime hugging
0
Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 2:14 AM UTC
pitch-black-god-8
is it better to love your kids too much than not enough?
while the debate goes on and on, as to which country has the longest, continuous democratic parliament, have it on on good authority that the subject above, is it better to love your kids too much than not enough? was the first among all temporal discussions ever held, despite periodic tabling, the debate remains unresolved, the question unsettled even after 1000 years+ of argumentation when over time, Universal Adult Suffrage finally came to be, the debate became renewable, enflamed, divisive most contentiously, various coming down on each side of a point of view topically since mother, father and child, i.e. pretty much everyone, definitionally, claimed total expertise, and sparing the rod was deemed by most to be illegally, no plebiscite, amendment or ballot initiative was resolved resolutely, the beat goes on continuously as new children reach voting age, sagaciously repeating their view, personally my view? I’ve tried both and failed equally so I’ve little to contribute, so let it be stated in manner unequivocally, the sweet sensibility says too well, but helicopters crash and monied snowplows run over other both their own and others better deserving, leaving all of them buried in snow piles street side, while those who blame their faults on insufficient love, are later most demanding more attention than any, having becoming painfully hardy, by being treated hard about, hard on themselves and worse to others everyone knows the answer to this question for themselves but I’ll leave you with this, permitting a child to fail is a winning strategy, as long as there is no legal limit regarding the amount or frequency on lifetime hugging
Continue reading...
35
When did news parody stop being funny? Was it somewhere between Alan Jackson’s 9/11 cash-in and Donald Trump’s hair? Was it BoJo stranded on a zipline over London, or Cameron’s alleged porcine relations (bizarrely black-mirroring fiction)? When did the news start doing Chris Morris’ job for him? When did they start pre-satirising the headlines? “No evidence mermaids exist,” says US Government. Swimming pool evacuated after prosthetic leg is mistaken for ********** Robots follow Marco Rubio to South Carolina. I swear, I didn’t make any of those up. The actors on Saturday Night Live are more statesmanlike than the Presidential Primary Candidates they’re lampooning. How the hell do they breed these creatures? These gurning, overgrown foetuses with their conveniently dead ****** sisters to get all wet-eyed and tumescent over, their boomingly hollow controversy and their total, catastrophic crashes of personality. These loathsome organic constructs who would seem more relatable and trustworthy if their image consultants made them wear Nixon masks for every public appearance. When did it all become this strange, sick spoof of itself? Is there no one left in Britain who can make a sandwich? Man dressed as penguin receives more votes than the Liberal Democrats. Piers Morgan given jail time for illegally hacking ‘phones and gloating about it. Okay. I made the last one up.
0
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 6:07 AM UTC
nico-reznick
Those are the headlines. God, I wish they weren't.
When did news parody stop being funny? Was it somewhere between Alan Jackson’s 9/11 cash-in and Donald Trump’s hair? Was it BoJo stranded on a zipline over London, or Cameron’s alleged porcine relations (bizarrely black-mirroring fiction)? When did the news start doing Chris Morris’ job for him? When did they start pre-satirising the headlines? “No evidence mermaids exist,” says US Government. Swimming pool evacuated after prosthetic leg is mistaken for ********** Robots follow Marco Rubio to South Carolina. I swear, I didn’t make any of those up. The actors on Saturday Night Live are more statesmanlike than the Presidential Primary Candidates they’re lampooning. How the hell do they breed these creatures? These gurning, overgrown foetuses with their conveniently dead ****** sisters to get all wet-eyed and tumescent over, their boomingly hollow controversy and their total, catastrophic crashes of personality. These loathsome organic constructs who would seem more relatable and trustworthy if their image consultants made them wear Nixon masks for every public appearance. When did it all become this strange, sick spoof of itself? Is there no one left in Britain who can make a sandwich? Man dressed as penguin receives more votes than the Liberal Democrats. Piers Morgan given jail time for illegally hacking ‘phones and gloating about it. Okay. I made the last one up.
Continue reading...
42
Mustard Joe told Pendulum Pam that Creepy Ray Ray was purchasing a human kidney, illegally, on the black market.  We didn't even know Creepy Ray Ray was sick.  Sick in the head maybe, but physically sick? We had no idea.    You may think that it' not right that I should call Creepy Ray Ray sick in the head but I think you'll agree with me when I tell you what happened.  Creepy Ray Ray told Mustard Joe who told Pendulum Pam that he wasn't sick. Good we all said.  We heard you were buying a human kidney, thank goodness your not. "Oh I'm buying a human kidney", said Creepy Ray Ray. " I'm buying it to eat it"!
0
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 9:54 AM UTC
Willoughby
Mustard Joe told Pendulum Pam about Creepy Ray Ray
Mustard Joe told Pendulum Pam that Creepy Ray Ray was purchasing a human kidney, illegally, on the black market.  We didn't even know Creepy Ray Ray was sick.  Sick in the head maybe, but physically sick? We had no idea.    You may think that it' not right that I should call Creepy Ray Ray sick in the head but I think you'll agree with me when I tell you what happened.  Creepy Ray Ray told Mustard Joe who told Pendulum Pam that he wasn't sick. Good we all said.  We heard you were buying a human kidney, thank goodness your not. "Oh I'm buying a human kidney", said Creepy Ray Ray. " I'm buying it to eat it"!
Continue reading...
11
* *PART I Let the world be - against our LOVE Let the society also be so - against our LOVE Let the laws, rules, regulations be - against our LOVE Let the religions, scriptures, gurus be - against our LOVE Let our friends, colleagues and Family, relatives be - against our LOVE Let even YOU and me be - against our LOVE Let them be, Let us be.. Let everyone be - against our LOVE Yet it is NOT going to be "The end of our LOVE" PART II Every "against" is just a gray smoke Trying to pretend to be a blue sky "They"- the one who are against LOVE If they are eager to crucify Jesus If they are eager to lynch Mansoor If they are eager to poison Meera If they are eager to throw LOVERz In the pyre of FIRE Remember this... The air around us is "LOVE" The whole world shall burn In the grief of two LOVERz flames So don't worry, it is not going to be "The end of our LOVE" PART III We all know, we all know That the enemies of LOVE are many They are educated, smart, intelligent Powerful, leaders and identity groups etc. Those who can reason, argue & debate, Rationalize with practicality & pragmatism But they do not even have a heart To feel the trueness & purity of our LOVE So don't worry, it is not going to be "The end of our LOVE" PART IV What comes out of our LOVE Is the most Powerful & Almighty NATURE LOVE in my heart - is not ruled by anyone LOVE in YOUR heart - is not ruled by anyone LOVE in our heart - is "OUR" LOVE It is not even ruled by us So don't worry, it is not going to be "The end of our LOVE" PART V Today those who pretend to be masters Today those who pretend to be leaders Today those who pretend to be gurus Those who pretend to "I know it ALL" They won't be here tomorrow to live They are only passengers of life Traveling illegally without tickets Because they are living without LOVE So don't worry, it is not going to be "The end of our LOVE" PART VI Do not forget, Do not forget LOVE has taken centuries It has taken ages From the garden of Eden Where Adam - Eve ate the apple Since Romeo-Zuliet died When Layla-Majnun wailed in longing LOVERz have poured their breathe Into every living thing on earth So don't worry, it is not going to be "The end of our LOVE" PART VII The breath you take is of LOVE The breath I take is of LOVE The breath the whole world takes is of LOVE Who are we to say "YES" and "NO" to LOVE? LOVE does not even take our permissions So don't worry, it is not going to be "The end of our LOVE" PART VIII LOVE is not even this moment "NOW" LOVE is not a slave of any constitution LOVE can't be imprisoned in any identities: Religious, regions, gender, caste, Class, society, color, race, age etc. LOVE is not owned by anyone LOVE is not even owned by LOVERz So don't worry, it is not going to be "The end of our LOVE"* *
0
Jun 28, 2019
Jun 28, 2019 at 11:35 PM UTC
melan-of-innocent
So Don't Worry..
* *PART I Let the world be - against our LOVE Let the society also be so - against our LOVE Let the laws, rules, regulations be - against our LOVE Let the religions, scriptures, gurus be - against our LOVE Let our friends, colleagues and Family, relatives be - against our LOVE Let even YOU and me be - against our LOVE Let them be, Let us be.. Let everyone be - against our LOVE Yet it is NOT going to be "The end of our LOVE" PART II Every "against" is just a gray smoke Trying to pretend to be a blue sky "They"- the one who are against LOVE If they are eager to crucify Jesus If they are eager to lynch Mansoor If they are eager to poison Meera If they are eager to throw LOVERz In the pyre of FIRE Remember this... The air around us is "LOVE" The whole world shall burn In the grief of two LOVERz flames So don't worry, it is not going to be "The end of our LOVE" PART III We all know, we all know That the enemies of LOVE are many They are educated, smart, intelligent Powerful, leaders and identity groups etc. Those who can reason, argue & debate, Rationalize with practicality & pragmatism But they do not even have a heart To feel the trueness & purity of our LOVE So don't worry, it is not going to be "The end of our LOVE" PART IV What comes out of our LOVE Is the most Powerful & Almighty NATURE LOVE in my heart - is not ruled by anyone LOVE in YOUR heart - is not ruled by anyone LOVE in our heart - is "OUR" LOVE It is not even ruled by us So don't worry, it is not going to be "The end of our LOVE" PART V Today those who pretend to be masters Today those who pretend to be leaders Today those who pretend to be gurus Those who pretend to "I know it ALL" They won't be here tomorrow to live They are only passengers of life Traveling illegally without tickets Because they are living without LOVE So don't worry, it is not going to be "The end of our LOVE" PART VI Do not forget, Do not forget LOVE has taken centuries It has taken ages From the garden of Eden Where Adam - Eve ate the apple Since Romeo-Zuliet died When Layla-Majnun wailed in longing LOVERz have poured their breathe Into every living thing on earth So don't worry, it is not going to be "The end of our LOVE" PART VII The breath you take is of LOVE The breath I take is of LOVE The breath the whole world takes is of LOVE Who are we to say "YES" and "NO" to LOVE? LOVE does not even take our permissions So don't worry, it is not going to be "The end of our LOVE" PART VIII LOVE is not even this moment "NOW" LOVE is not a slave of any constitution LOVE can't be imprisoned in any identities: Religious, regions, gender, caste, Class, society, color, race, age etc. LOVE is not owned by anyone LOVE is not even owned by LOVERz So don't worry, it is not going to be "The end of our LOVE"* *
Continue reading...
97
I can't breath, I can't breath!!! But because I'm big and black they continued to terrorise me Choking me until I seized to gasp for my final breathe Now I'm dead Looking down from the heavens wondering how could this be How could this be? So let me get this straight I died for so called selling illegally And you would think it was at least **** I was selling I was selling the american dream of creating Creating a profit.. To take care of my family Then they shot me And I couldn't stop it I saw death as clear as the time What is this And if that's not a crime Then what is... I told him I had a gun Even asked him if I could get my license from my pocket He said sure why not But as I proceeded to reach for my pocket he shot me anyways Now I'm dead Looking down from the heavens wondering what did I do What did I do? Why am I looking at myself stained red I got pulled over for a taillight but ended up satisfying someone's bloodlust There wasn't even a fuss But look at me now Dead six feet under And if that's not a crime Then what is... Can't you see They're picking us off one by one Getting off scott free by saying they feared for their lives What about our lives Shouldn't we be the ones panicking behinds our guns We can't even take a jog down the street without being accused of something Don't we have rights Last time I checked we're human too Not animals who deserves to be stuffed in cages And poked with sticks like they did back in the ages So how do we evade this Better yet... How are we supposed to survive this Black lives matter How many times do we have to say this
0
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 11:35 AM UTC
sir-poet
Not long enough
I can't breath, I can't breath!!! But because I'm big and black they continued to terrorise me Choking me until I seized to gasp for my final breathe Now I'm dead Looking down from the heavens wondering how could this be How could this be? So let me get this straight I died for so called selling illegally And you would think it was at least **** I was selling I was selling the american dream of creating Creating a profit.. To take care of my family Then they shot me And I couldn't stop it I saw death as clear as the time What is this And if that's not a crime Then what is... I told him I had a gun Even asked him if I could get my license from my pocket He said sure why not But as I proceeded to reach for my pocket he shot me anyways Now I'm dead Looking down from the heavens wondering what did I do What did I do? Why am I looking at myself stained red I got pulled over for a taillight but ended up satisfying someone's bloodlust There wasn't even a fuss But look at me now Dead six feet under And if that's not a crime Then what is... Can't you see They're picking us off one by one Getting off scott free by saying they feared for their lives What about our lives Shouldn't we be the ones panicking behinds our guns We can't even take a jog down the street without being accused of something Don't we have rights Last time I checked we're human too Not animals who deserves to be stuffed in cages And poked with sticks like they did back in the ages So how do we evade this Better yet... How are we supposed to survive this Black lives matter How many times do we have to say this
Continue reading...
47
I remember you, in the night last September. It was cold, and you tasted of the alochol we had illegally sipped Smiling at each other over gem-rimmed bottles I remember when we kissed, for the first time That night in September And it warmed me to my bones, and I could have stayed there with you forever I remember your hands, last September Touching the burning skin of my cheek, hooked in the belt loops of my faded blue jeans. I remember your eyes, How they found the brightest star in that starry, starry sky, And how your voice, whispered, "That one's ours." Your fingers fluttered at the hollows of my hips, cold, because you'd given me your jacket, and you were freezing. I remember you last September. I knew you last September, And I wish I had known myself. I remember how it ended, when it ended, That morning last September, so soon after it began, "I've been thinking..." And I remember, last September hating you.
0
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 1:44 PM UTC
maddie-3
last september
I remember you, in the night last September. It was cold, and you tasted of the alochol we had illegally sipped Smiling at each other over gem-rimmed bottles I remember when we kissed, for the first time That night in September And it warmed me to my bones, and I could have stayed there with you forever I remember your hands, last September Touching the burning skin of my cheek, hooked in the belt loops of my faded blue jeans. I remember your eyes, How they found the brightest star in that starry, starry sky, And how your voice, whispered, "That one's ours." Your fingers fluttered at the hollows of my hips, cold, because you'd given me your jacket, and you were freezing. I remember you last September. I knew you last September, And I wish I had known myself. I remember how it ended, when it ended, That morning last September, so soon after it began, "I've been thinking..." And I remember, last September hating you.
Continue reading...
28
on ruby jacobs walk, a small girl asked us for money for ice cream. she eyed our cones                                 yours, lemon                                 mine, strawberry with a child’s hunger glinting and opportunistic as she held out her palm for coins. i was not yet accustomed to the shapes and sizes, to a dime being smaller than a nickel, and in any case wanted to preserve them for souvenirs so we shook our heads and walked away. a year later, writing this poem, i learned that ruby jacobs was a local restauranteur who, as a boy, illegally sold ice creams for a nickel on the boardwalk.                                                 a nickel is the larger coin                                                 the size of a ten pence piece.                                                 i know that now. the wide atlantic rose from a sloping manicured lawn         star-spangled,                                 like everything here,                                                                 the airborne flag                                                                 above a wide pavilion                                                                 a fanatic wedding cake topper                                                                 against the blood-blue sky.         i slipped out of my shoes and let the white sand burn my feet, and jaggedly fill the spaces between my toes. the atlantic held open its arms though we weren’t, as we imagined,                 looking east                 looking home but south to new jersey, across the bay. the gnarled boardwalk was a song of the twentieth century         a roll-call of mass-market capitalism         here in the city that didn’t invent the concept         but certainly perfected it:                                                 hot dogs                                         amusements                                 ice creams (we’ve covered that)                         fridge magnets                 baseball caps         i bought an espresso cup with a picture of the president and the caption:                          ‘huuuuge!’ i stopped to take a photograph of a space-age building from the fifties which turned out to be                                         a public toilet. later from the sunbaked d train, brooklyn spread out beneath us the houses garnished with flags, then the city coughed us up on seventh avenue and night fell five hours early.
0
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 7:51 AM UTC
bruceadams
coney island hymn
on ruby jacobs walk, a small girl asked us for money for ice cream. she eyed our cones                                 yours, lemon                                 mine, strawberry with a child’s hunger glinting and opportunistic as she held out her palm for coins. i was not yet accustomed to the shapes and sizes, to a dime being smaller than a nickel, and in any case wanted to preserve them for souvenirs so we shook our heads and walked away. a year later, writing this poem, i learned that ruby jacobs was a local restauranteur who, as a boy, illegally sold ice creams for a nickel on the boardwalk.                                                 a nickel is the larger coin                                                 the size of a ten pence piece.                                                 i know that now. the wide atlantic rose from a sloping manicured lawn         star-spangled,                                 like everything here,                                                                 the airborne flag                                                                 above a wide pavilion                                                                 a fanatic wedding cake topper                                                                 against the blood-blue sky.         i slipped out of my shoes and let the white sand burn my feet, and jaggedly fill the spaces between my toes. the atlantic held open its arms though we weren’t, as we imagined,                 looking east                 looking home but south to new jersey, across the bay. the gnarled boardwalk was a song of the twentieth century         a roll-call of mass-market capitalism         here in the city that didn’t invent the concept         but certainly perfected it:                                                 hot dogs                                         amusements                                 ice creams (we’ve covered that)                         fridge magnets                 baseball caps         i bought an espresso cup with a picture of the president and the caption:                          ‘huuuuge!’ i stopped to take a photograph of a space-age building from the fifties which turned out to be                                         a public toilet. later from the sunbaked d train, brooklyn spread out beneath us the houses garnished with flags, then the city coughed us up on seventh avenue and night fell five hours early.
Continue reading...
60
salt stings soldiered eyes streaming i am not crying — just releasing a weekend of wine and Netflix, a relapse i can't admit when people ask what I did last weekend. Muscles burning in the agony, their capability long squandered, by lazy nights and wine. Monkey mind zombied to flashes of LED light. Docile strides to somewhere I have to be. oh TV, you are so tempting to a binger like me. I think about the last episode when I should think about the road, leading to my forgotten sanctuary, where limbs stretch, teachers chant krishna and rub students with essential oils. But as I listen to the sitar in shavasana, interrupted by iPhone rings, teacher grasps the money from the donation box greedily. I feel slightly annoyed, but mostly pity — three students thirty five dollars for an hour. But I think this is what happens when yoga becomes a commodity. Like TV — a fix, not a spiritual experience. So we'll pay the minimum, or stream it illegally.
0
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 11:42 PM UTC
courtney-pruitt
a hot commodity
salt stings soldiered eyes streaming i am not crying — just releasing a weekend of wine and Netflix, a relapse i can't admit when people ask what I did last weekend. Muscles burning in the agony, their capability long squandered, by lazy nights and wine. Monkey mind zombied to flashes of LED light. Docile strides to somewhere I have to be. oh TV, you are so tempting to a binger like me. I think about the last episode when I should think about the road, leading to my forgotten sanctuary, where limbs stretch, teachers chant krishna and rub students with essential oils. But as I listen to the sitar in shavasana, interrupted by iPhone rings, teacher grasps the money from the donation box greedily. I feel slightly annoyed, but mostly pity — three students thirty five dollars for an hour. But I think this is what happens when yoga becomes a commodity. Like TV — a fix, not a spiritual experience. So we'll pay the minimum, or stream it illegally.
Continue reading...
36
I'm perfectly imperfect That's what they always say I'm crookedly straight But I'm far from gay I forever speak my mind Always and all day My heart is on my sleeve But guarded all the same I'm devilishly innocent My mind is not so tame I'm dishonestly truthful But never take the blame I'm completely backwards We can never be the same To me upwards is downwards The sky's my only ground Your life I can still ruin It is with in my bounds I'm depressingly happy There is no middle ground My version of earth is flat... Why should it be round? My earth is a work of art With colours everywhere Your world I broke and ripped apart Just to prove I don't fit there I tore it up in little bits I left the pieces without a care I'm completely backwards I'm such a major scare I'm nationally local You can see me all the time I can disappear into thin air Leaving you without a rhyme For I'm melodically harmonious No brighter than the dullest shine I'm incomprehensibly real And yet so hard to find Pure white to me is simple black Race is gone and can't come back I can prove all that I am A thing to which you surely lack I'm disrespectfully respectful My words are always fact I'm completely backwards I'll drive you past insane Then I'll never bring you back I'm illegally legal Like a drug that you can't sell I'm contrastingly bendable In this world of my own hell I'm resistingly irresistible My secrets you will never tell I'm obscenely lovable In this world in which I fell I landed in this twisted place A world of expectations This world I created on my own For I'm an undertone of exaggeration Here I've found my only home In a backwards world of my creation And all in all I'm here to say "I'm completely backwards In every single way"
0
Sep 10, 2009
Sep 10, 2009 at 12:49 PM UTC
skredman
I'm Completely Backwards
I'm perfectly imperfect That's what they always say I'm crookedly straight But I'm far from gay I forever speak my mind Always and all day My heart is on my sleeve But guarded all the same I'm devilishly innocent My mind is not so tame I'm dishonestly truthful But never take the blame I'm completely backwards We can never be the same To me upwards is downwards The sky's my only ground Your life I can still ruin It is with in my bounds I'm depressingly happy There is no middle ground My version of earth is flat... Why should it be round? My earth is a work of art With colours everywhere Your world I broke and ripped apart Just to prove I don't fit there I tore it up in little bits I left the pieces without a care I'm completely backwards I'm such a major scare I'm nationally local You can see me all the time I can disappear into thin air Leaving you without a rhyme For I'm melodically harmonious No brighter than the dullest shine I'm incomprehensibly real And yet so hard to find Pure white to me is simple black Race is gone and can't come back I can prove all that I am A thing to which you surely lack I'm disrespectfully respectful My words are always fact I'm completely backwards I'll drive you past insane Then I'll never bring you back I'm illegally legal Like a drug that you can't sell I'm contrastingly bendable In this world of my own hell I'm resistingly irresistible My secrets you will never tell I'm obscenely lovable In this world in which I fell I landed in this twisted place A world of expectations This world I created on my own For I'm an undertone of exaggeration Here I've found my only home In a backwards world of my creation And all in all I'm here to say "I'm completely backwards In every single way"
Continue reading...
64
I recall being tucked in under sheets of snow And dozing off with aches from icy bums bruised on hidden rocks beneath supposedly cushioned pillows of powder. I recall climbing high up onto roofs and the tops of waterfalls out of confident impulse and curiosity for a different view of the world...a new perspective. I recall the same men and boys inspiring me, teaching me, beating me, and becoming less than what I would become; I then sought out those who saw me as an equal but were indeed much better than I. They helped me to know the importance of being challenged and being humble. I recall the sheer joy and anxiousness that came with the winter breeze leading up the mountains, where everything had a different tint or filter depending on the company you shared the moments with. I recall following pure instinct and having full trust in intuition, hoping only to make this life my own and to inspire in the process. I recall being told to trust no one, and rebelling because I treasured a secret friendship with a stranger more than cautiousness. I recall surfing on rocks, snow, grass, rain, roofs, people, anything but the ocean. I recall forgetting to look for love because I had too much in my own heart to care all that much what I received. I recall getting older and maintaining innocence despite many's attempts at peeling at my corners. I recall reaching adulthood legally and becoming a child illegally, embracing the breaking of that law for the rest of my life to come. I recall making my own home, and being let into the world, and flourishing in that freedom.
0
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 2:11 AM UTC
sobie
Adolescence to Adulthood
I recall being tucked in under sheets of snow And dozing off with aches from icy bums bruised on hidden rocks beneath supposedly cushioned pillows of powder. I recall climbing high up onto roofs and the tops of waterfalls out of confident impulse and curiosity for a different view of the world...a new perspective. I recall the same men and boys inspiring me, teaching me, beating me, and becoming less than what I would become; I then sought out those who saw me as an equal but were indeed much better than I. They helped me to know the importance of being challenged and being humble. I recall the sheer joy and anxiousness that came with the winter breeze leading up the mountains, where everything had a different tint or filter depending on the company you shared the moments with. I recall following pure instinct and having full trust in intuition, hoping only to make this life my own and to inspire in the process. I recall being told to trust no one, and rebelling because I treasured a secret friendship with a stranger more than cautiousness. I recall surfing on rocks, snow, grass, rain, roofs, people, anything but the ocean. I recall forgetting to look for love because I had too much in my own heart to care all that much what I received. I recall getting older and maintaining innocence despite many's attempts at peeling at my corners. I recall reaching adulthood legally and becoming a child illegally, embracing the breaking of that law for the rest of my life to come. I recall making my own home, and being let into the world, and flourishing in that freedom.
Continue reading...
12
Sunny days bring smiles on faces Girls with ***** shorts and sunglasses Guys with muscle tops or floral hemps and snapback caps September 19th was sunny Well, that's until the clouds acuated the skies and made all the smile evacuate to dystopia This was an apocalypse in my parent's house, a place I used to call home My father, Christopher was the devil, Lucifer and my mother was an angel with wings- a delightful servant of Venus, the goddess of love Only, she couldn't fly Not mentally, not physically and definitely not verbally Her vocal chords were shaking as she passed her voice to my dad She was the rainbow and sunshine that was no longer divine it was cryin’ while the devil was roarin’ as if he was a god in which he was, but only of hell He omitted fire but this time, it was cold So cold that a tornado spun around the dining room as I sat there, frozen, and watched like a snowman The pupils of my eight year old eyes witnessed the ending of a love I thought was immortal A love that I used to think was magical and illiterate A love that formed in two hearts that bided into one on their own without the education of authorities This was apartheid!, and my parents were illegally married A white European knight in shining armour to an African goddess with attractive eyes I started to believe that my mind used to be a foolish thrall to the world of perfect love But now I believe that it’s a vendee who bought the saying, “love is blind” I was a child who no longer believed in the love of mankind I had trouble finding myself ‘cause faith is to believe what you cannot see and self-love was nowhere in sight Now love is something I have to draw and I cannot neutralize it with optimism ‘cause my world was at an apocalypse when the sun was supposed to be out...
0
Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 2:13 PM UTC
poeticpresident
Love From Dystopia
Sunny days bring smiles on faces Girls with ***** shorts and sunglasses Guys with muscle tops or floral hemps and snapback caps September 19th was sunny Well, that's until the clouds acuated the skies and made all the smile evacuate to dystopia This was an apocalypse in my parent's house, a place I used to call home My father, Christopher was the devil, Lucifer and my mother was an angel with wings- a delightful servant of Venus, the goddess of love Only, she couldn't fly Not mentally, not physically and definitely not verbally Her vocal chords were shaking as she passed her voice to my dad She was the rainbow and sunshine that was no longer divine it was cryin’ while the devil was roarin’ as if he was a god in which he was, but only of hell He omitted fire but this time, it was cold So cold that a tornado spun around the dining room as I sat there, frozen, and watched like a snowman The pupils of my eight year old eyes witnessed the ending of a love I thought was immortal A love that I used to think was magical and illiterate A love that formed in two hearts that bided into one on their own without the education of authorities This was apartheid!, and my parents were illegally married A white European knight in shining armour to an African goddess with attractive eyes I started to believe that my mind used to be a foolish thrall to the world of perfect love But now I believe that it’s a vendee who bought the saying, “love is blind” I was a child who no longer believed in the love of mankind I had trouble finding myself ‘cause faith is to believe what you cannot see and self-love was nowhere in sight Now love is something I have to draw and I cannot neutralize it with optimism ‘cause my world was at an apocalypse when the sun was supposed to be out...
Continue reading...
50
Reading and researching about fiction and facts. You try to clear up our racist past. When a black walked into a eating establishment to eat. You ponder and wonder about those racists wrath. What about the skin of a person that makes fools reacts? Or those that intimidated not stand up to wrong. When we remain quiet we gives stupidity a home. Then you ponder and wonder about the bigots. Maybe, they wasn't afraid of the blacks. But afraid of their own. Many racists don't truly have a happy home. When a Latino illegally or legally comes to America. Who really believes they taking anyone job? Many are working hard at jobs that hard working Americans avoid. We must address our inner self. For within our hearts lies an answer. We all see things from a different view. When judgment day comes. And you must be held accountable before God. And He ask you what wrong did you do? Will you be truthful without offering an excuse? Yes, you can reform your love for the people you hate. But God requires us to do before we standing at the gate. Cause, standing before Him now. Just might be a little late. But we are dealing with the human nature of the flesh. And that alone create most of our trouble.
0
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 8:43 AM UTC
jeffrey-conyers
Human Nature of the Flesh
Reading and researching about fiction and facts. You try to clear up our racist past. When a black walked into a eating establishment to eat. You ponder and wonder about those racists wrath. What about the skin of a person that makes fools reacts? Or those that intimidated not stand up to wrong. When we remain quiet we gives stupidity a home. Then you ponder and wonder about the bigots. Maybe, they wasn't afraid of the blacks. But afraid of their own. Many racists don't truly have a happy home. When a Latino illegally or legally comes to America. Who really believes they taking anyone job? Many are working hard at jobs that hard working Americans avoid. We must address our inner self. For within our hearts lies an answer. We all see things from a different view. When judgment day comes. And you must be held accountable before God. And He ask you what wrong did you do? Will you be truthful without offering an excuse? Yes, you can reform your love for the people you hate. But God requires us to do before we standing at the gate. Cause, standing before Him now. Just might be a little late. But we are dealing with the human nature of the flesh. And that alone create most of our trouble.
Continue reading...
27
Eli tossed the ****** novel aside; a radical tale of painters in the far future when paint itself would be illegal; arms dealers, drug traffickers, *** workers gathering in dark interstellar holes bored into passing comets & orbiting meteors docking illegally at satellite ports & unloading chemicals frozen into place by the artists who can never let their identities be known; all colors on earth are registered & trade marked by the Beast's Corporation & so Space Art is highly sought & lucrative but lethal as it can made to explode w/ enough energy & radiation to leave a small planet barren for millions of years; the Beast is reasonably worried as Space Art, or Action Painting [after the ancient school] is wildly popular & traded openly for billions of dollars; the Beast may be able to keep everyone stupid & greedy but Art liberates them into heights of ecstasy & kindled wisdom; freedom of thought the last frontier no one suspected & so abrogated their intelligence & imagination to fembots      who pump their heads full of colorful action sequences; the illegal paintings too stiff,   just stand or lean & look back                       at one w/out blinking & the female-computer-network unable to bear the silence, initiates automatic shut-down of itself;   femportals      abandoned on stations where the painted images    projected on microcells to the clandestine buyers,                  spread as an unseen mist through the various                                              artificial environments;                   the distant star                     paint miners                   smoking up a storm & using steam-powered                                                                fembots                                       to mine for their oil & charcoal;                                        Eli putting on the kettle for tea, thinks about the fembots in the novel & calling a ********** demands she not speak; the girl arriving naked in stockings
0
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 8:38 PM UTC
johnny-noiπ
Eli, having read the book
Eli tossed the ****** novel aside; a radical tale of painters in the far future when paint itself would be illegal; arms dealers, drug traffickers, *** workers gathering in dark interstellar holes bored into passing comets & orbiting meteors docking illegally at satellite ports & unloading chemicals frozen into place by the artists who can never let their identities be known; all colors on earth are registered & trade marked by the Beast's Corporation & so Space Art is highly sought & lucrative but lethal as it can made to explode w/ enough energy & radiation to leave a small planet barren for millions of years; the Beast is reasonably worried as Space Art, or Action Painting [after the ancient school] is wildly popular & traded openly for billions of dollars; the Beast may be able to keep everyone stupid & greedy but Art liberates them into heights of ecstasy & kindled wisdom; freedom of thought the last frontier no one suspected & so abrogated their intelligence & imagination to fembots      who pump their heads full of colorful action sequences; the illegal paintings too stiff,   just stand or lean & look back                       at one w/out blinking & the female-computer-network unable to bear the silence, initiates automatic shut-down of itself;   femportals      abandoned on stations where the painted images    projected on microcells to the clandestine buyers,                  spread as an unseen mist through the various                                              artificial environments;                   the distant star                     paint miners                   smoking up a storm & using steam-powered                                                                fembots                                       to mine for their oil & charcoal;                                        Eli putting on the kettle for tea, thinks about the fembots in the novel & calling a ********** demands she not speak; the girl arriving naked in stockings
Continue reading...
37
an impurity inherent or invasive, identity, purpose, all unresolved, substantive, long-lived, minute sized, flexible, formed, yet more, clearly shapelessly, so well visible we'll disguise it to survive it without passport, an émigré illegally legal border invasive, but somehow more knowledgable of the unmapped byways within, more than me - how can that be? never motionless, indeed, always hurried, even when energy gathering, despite it's detailed timetable, detailing plentiful stops and interminable unexplained screeching wailings, it has no smooth gliding, nor rumbling grumbling halting, to a final destination imprinted this impurity, a beheaded brainy horseman searching for what, I'm not permissioned, unquenchable questioning, all I am allowed is sensory surceasingly, unseasonably seeking the undresser, the verisign of veritas eyes mirrored reversal internal, you can't understand why finishing this poem is so hard because you don't want to confess this impious impurity, no étranger, it is but copious insecurity, of the all of you, the ecstasy of the rushing, the upsetting, universal unique to us, you, unholy, ecclesiastical, catholic, that impurity is just the heart pumping the mottled blood of life coursing through your words and out your fingertips, onto those stained drumsticks used to play the keyboard alphabet about an out-of-tempo impure ecstasy
0
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC
poetoftheway
The Impurity and the Ecstasy
an impurity inherent or invasive, identity, purpose, all unresolved, substantive, long-lived, minute sized, flexible, formed, yet more, clearly shapelessly, so well visible we'll disguise it to survive it without passport, an émigré illegally legal border invasive, but somehow more knowledgable of the unmapped byways within, more than me - how can that be? never motionless, indeed, always hurried, even when energy gathering, despite it's detailed timetable, detailing plentiful stops and interminable unexplained screeching wailings, it has no smooth gliding, nor rumbling grumbling halting, to a final destination imprinted this impurity, a beheaded brainy horseman searching for what, I'm not permissioned, unquenchable questioning, all I am allowed is sensory surceasingly, unseasonably seeking the undresser, the verisign of veritas eyes mirrored reversal internal, you can't understand why finishing this poem is so hard because you don't want to confess this impious impurity, no étranger, it is but copious insecurity, of the all of you, the ecstasy of the rushing, the upsetting, universal unique to us, you, unholy, ecclesiastical, catholic, that impurity is just the heart pumping the mottled blood of life coursing through your words and out your fingertips, onto those stained drumsticks used to play the keyboard alphabet about an out-of-tempo impure ecstasy
Continue reading...
59
There is dirt mixed with blood Underneath our fingernails Our life is mixed with mud While we fight and flail The struggle is for my agency Otherwise I feel they're ****** me I feel they are replacing me With an imposition of their will Love as vast as the sea Wouldn't get them their fill Their emotions they **** For a ****** thrill That could be achieved by a pill But instead they use power For they understand in this hour There is a mentality Of fatality Where we minimize our enemies to their negative desires So we can build with our allies oppressive empires Until the whole world is on fire And these rapists can do as they please When it's systemic they do it with ease In a world without trust They are the beneficiaries They care only for lust With actions incendiary Burning the forest they hide in Where our secrets provide their shade Because overwhelming suspicion pervades The image of all strangers We see only danger And our judgement is skewed When everybody is considered a ****** Yet there are only a few There is a moment When I make a ****** decision I am not sure what the recipient's reaction will be There are two negative extremes to this situation: 1. I will **** them 2. They will falsely accuse me of **** Our ****** lives are navigating these issues of trust Between those extremes But when our definition of **** Starts to define the victim's comfort As more important than the violator's intent We show an unwillingness to understand and a bias Which would give anyone reason to not trust someone And the ****** atmosphere becomes one of uncertainty People get into relationships so they don't have to worry about it But bachelors must consider these things **** victims must too As well as the man sitting in prison for fraudulent claims One has been illegally ***** The other has been ***** legally I'd imagine both might see a world of rapists afterwards Yet there are only a few
0
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 6:37 AM UTC
andrew-rueter
Trust
There is dirt mixed with blood Underneath our fingernails Our life is mixed with mud While we fight and flail The struggle is for my agency Otherwise I feel they're ****** me I feel they are replacing me With an imposition of their will Love as vast as the sea Wouldn't get them their fill Their emotions they **** For a ****** thrill That could be achieved by a pill But instead they use power For they understand in this hour There is a mentality Of fatality Where we minimize our enemies to their negative desires So we can build with our allies oppressive empires Until the whole world is on fire And these rapists can do as they please When it's systemic they do it with ease In a world without trust They are the beneficiaries They care only for lust With actions incendiary Burning the forest they hide in Where our secrets provide their shade Because overwhelming suspicion pervades The image of all strangers We see only danger And our judgement is skewed When everybody is considered a ****** Yet there are only a few There is a moment When I make a ****** decision I am not sure what the recipient's reaction will be There are two negative extremes to this situation: 1. I will **** them 2. They will falsely accuse me of **** Our ****** lives are navigating these issues of trust Between those extremes But when our definition of **** Starts to define the victim's comfort As more important than the violator's intent We show an unwillingness to understand and a bias Which would give anyone reason to not trust someone And the ****** atmosphere becomes one of uncertainty People get into relationships so they don't have to worry about it But bachelors must consider these things **** victims must too As well as the man sitting in prison for fraudulent claims One has been illegally ***** The other has been ***** legally I'd imagine both might see a world of rapists afterwards Yet there are only a few
Continue reading...
56
ANYTHING FOR A HOME THE GOVERNMENTS DON’T CARE FOR THE MENTALLY ILL THEY DON’T GIVE A **** YA SEE THIS HOMELESS MENTALLY ILL MAN WAS CAMPING ILLEGALLY CAUSE HE HAS NO HOME TO GO TO I THINK IT’S WRONG, WHAT IS THIS WORLD COMING TOO SEEING ONE OF THE POOOR AND SUFFERING GET INTO TROUBLE FOR ILLEGAL CAMPING UMMMMMMMMMM MAKE THIS POLICE MAN LEARN UMMMMMMMMM THAT DISCIPLINE LIKE THIS IS WRONG UMMMMMMM PLEASE INSTEAD OF ARRESTING THEM, GIVE THIS GUY A HOME WITH ROUND THE CLOCK CARE UMMMMMMMM SO NO PERSON CAN NICK HIS STUFF UMMMMMMMMM HE SUFFERS MORE THAN THE COPS UMMMMMMMMM HE NEEDED TO BE LOOKED AFTER MORE UMMMMMMMMM HE DIDN’T DESERVE TO DIE UMMMMMMMMM THESE POLICE MEN WERE JUST DOING THEIR JOB, WELL YEAH MATE UMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMM HE HAD NOWHERE LEFT TO GO, UMMMMMMMMM I LIKE MENTAL PEOPLE UMMMMMM THEY MIGHT LOOK DIFFERENT, UMMMMMMMM THEY ARE ALRIGHT AND FUNNY UMMMMMMMMMM HE NEEDED TO BE CRIVEN TO A HOME FOR THE HOMELESS UMMMMMMMMMMM RATHER THAN SHOT, NO THERE IS NO EXCUSE, FOR POLICE DOING THIS UMMMMMMMMMMM THEY ARE HASSLING THE MENTALLY ILL, IT’S SO WRONG UMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM, I DON’T WANT TO SAY THINGS OUT OF TURN, BUT UMMMMMMM THESE POLICEMEN WERE IN THE WRONG UMMMMMMMMMMM THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR KILLING IN EVERY STRETCH OF THE IMAGINATION UMMMMMMMMMMM IF HE REALLY CARES, THEY WOULDN’T HAVE SHOT HIM DEAD UMMMMMMMMMMMM SORRY IF I AM TOO HARSH, BUT BUDDHA SAYS KILLING IS WRONG, UMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMMM NO, BUDDHA, ATHENA, AND CRONUS, WHO IS ME, DOESN’T EXCEPT THIS UMMMMMMMMMMMM GIVE THIS HOMELESS MAN A MICROPHONE, ON SATURN SO HE CAN RAT OFF THE POLICE THAT KILLED HIM UMMMMMMMMMMMMM SOMETIMES IT’S GOOD TO BE HARSH, UMMMMMMMMM IF YOU SEE THE KILLING OF THE HOMELESS UMMMMMMMMMMMM IT’S JUST NOT ON, BUDDY, IT’S JUST NOT ON UMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMM UMMMMMMM UMMMMMM I HOPE THE POLICE AREN’T PROUD OF WHAT THEY DID, IT’S WRONG TO **** THE MENTALLY ILL UMMMMMMMMMMM DISPITE WHAT YOUR REASONS MAYBE UMMMMMMMMM I AM TOO NICE, FOR BEING A FIGHTER UMMMMMMMMMMMM BUT THIS ****** CHILLS ME TO THE SPINE UMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM PLEASE, GIVE THIS MENTALLY ILL HOMELESS MAN A PERFECT FAMILY IN HIS NEXT LIFE UMMMMMMMMMMM IF THERE IS ANY SUCH THING AS A PERFECT FAMILY UMMMMMMMMMMM LET THIS DEATH, MAKE THESE POLICEMEN SQUIRM LIKE I DID, BUT I NEVER KILLED NOBODY UMMMMMMMMMMM HOMELESS, HOMELESS HOMELESS, I SAID IT 3 TIMES, TO STATE THE REASON WHY HE WAS CAMPING UMMMMMMMMMMM IT’S BECAUSE HE WAS SUFFERING, HE WAS HOMELESS, HE WAS HOMELESS HE WAS HOMELESS UMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM KILLING SHOULD BE WRONG UMMMMMMMM PEOPLE SHOULD BE GIVEN PROPER GUN TRAINING UMMMMMMMM IT’S WRONG TO **** IT’SC WRONG TO **** UMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMM
0
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
johnny-georgy-brown
HOMELESS PEOPLE ARE SUFFERING, THEY WILL DO ANYTHING FOR A HOME
ANYTHING FOR A HOME THE GOVERNMENTS DON’T CARE FOR THE MENTALLY ILL THEY DON’T GIVE A **** YA SEE THIS HOMELESS MENTALLY ILL MAN WAS CAMPING ILLEGALLY CAUSE HE HAS NO HOME TO GO TO I THINK IT’S WRONG, WHAT IS THIS WORLD COMING TOO SEEING ONE OF THE POOOR AND SUFFERING GET INTO TROUBLE FOR ILLEGAL CAMPING UMMMMMMMMMM MAKE THIS POLICE MAN LEARN UMMMMMMMMM THAT DISCIPLINE LIKE THIS IS WRONG UMMMMMMM PLEASE INSTEAD OF ARRESTING THEM, GIVE THIS GUY A HOME WITH ROUND THE CLOCK CARE UMMMMMMMM SO NO PERSON CAN NICK HIS STUFF UMMMMMMMMM HE SUFFERS MORE THAN THE COPS UMMMMMMMMM HE NEEDED TO BE LOOKED AFTER MORE UMMMMMMMMM HE DIDN’T DESERVE TO DIE UMMMMMMMMM THESE POLICE MEN WERE JUST DOING THEIR JOB, WELL YEAH MATE UMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMM HE HAD NOWHERE LEFT TO GO, UMMMMMMMMM I LIKE MENTAL PEOPLE UMMMMMM THEY MIGHT LOOK DIFFERENT, UMMMMMMMM THEY ARE ALRIGHT AND FUNNY UMMMMMMMMMM HE NEEDED TO BE CRIVEN TO A HOME FOR THE HOMELESS UMMMMMMMMMMM RATHER THAN SHOT, NO THERE IS NO EXCUSE, FOR POLICE DOING THIS UMMMMMMMMMMM THEY ARE HASSLING THE MENTALLY ILL, IT’S SO WRONG UMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM, I DON’T WANT TO SAY THINGS OUT OF TURN, BUT UMMMMMMM THESE POLICEMEN WERE IN THE WRONG UMMMMMMMMMMM THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR KILLING IN EVERY STRETCH OF THE IMAGINATION UMMMMMMMMMMM IF HE REALLY CARES, THEY WOULDN’T HAVE SHOT HIM DEAD UMMMMMMMMMMMM SORRY IF I AM TOO HARSH, BUT BUDDHA SAYS KILLING IS WRONG, UMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMMM NO, BUDDHA, ATHENA, AND CRONUS, WHO IS ME, DOESN’T EXCEPT THIS UMMMMMMMMMMMM GIVE THIS HOMELESS MAN A MICROPHONE, ON SATURN SO HE CAN RAT OFF THE POLICE THAT KILLED HIM UMMMMMMMMMMMMM SOMETIMES IT’S GOOD TO BE HARSH, UMMMMMMMMM IF YOU SEE THE KILLING OF THE HOMELESS UMMMMMMMMMMMM IT’S JUST NOT ON, BUDDY, IT’S JUST NOT ON UMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMM UMMMMMMM UMMMMMM I HOPE THE POLICE AREN’T PROUD OF WHAT THEY DID, IT’S WRONG TO **** THE MENTALLY ILL UMMMMMMMMMMM DISPITE WHAT YOUR REASONS MAYBE UMMMMMMMMM I AM TOO NICE, FOR BEING A FIGHTER UMMMMMMMMMMMM BUT THIS ****** CHILLS ME TO THE SPINE UMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM PLEASE, GIVE THIS MENTALLY ILL HOMELESS MAN A PERFECT FAMILY IN HIS NEXT LIFE UMMMMMMMMMMM IF THERE IS ANY SUCH THING AS A PERFECT FAMILY UMMMMMMMMMMM LET THIS DEATH, MAKE THESE POLICEMEN SQUIRM LIKE I DID, BUT I NEVER KILLED NOBODY UMMMMMMMMMMM HOMELESS, HOMELESS HOMELESS, I SAID IT 3 TIMES, TO STATE THE REASON WHY HE WAS CAMPING UMMMMMMMMMMM IT’S BECAUSE HE WAS SUFFERING, HE WAS HOMELESS, HE WAS HOMELESS HE WAS HOMELESS UMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM KILLING SHOULD BE WRONG UMMMMMMMM PEOPLE SHOULD BE GIVEN PROPER GUN TRAINING UMMMMMMMM IT’S WRONG TO **** IT’SC WRONG TO **** UMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMM
Continue reading...
39
Climb into bed and... Hearth embers of body heat circulate, Tourists on self-guided walking tours, Exploring the cabalistic eighteen chai holies of the Human body, temple depository of spark divine. Heat sparkles cross over the isthmus of Touching Toes, Continental negotiators, swapping free heat for icicles, 2 X 10 interstitial connections, now land masses filled, Global warming credit trading par excellence Fingers, jew wandering, exiled to freedom, Intertwined within soft-edged, graying sea grasses, Coverlet over pounding chest, Hands illegally mining tousled head hair,   Nestling, nesting, without proper permits Lick away the rumbling hoarseness Coating a neighboring sleepy throat, Gate crasher bringing surround-sound comfort, Seeking to seal and still the groans, Escaping prisoners of the ills of the wearied mind Your favorite parts inspiring, demanding Song, word, drawing or simple quenching, Tonic of revival, an affirmation of self, Existence proofs met through need I write this for me, for her, for you. Suckers for iron pyrite, most will skip this polemic, What you don't know about me could be a Hit show on prime time cable TV. Like a cute commercial that makes you smile, For a product you'll never buy, I write this for me, for her, for anonymous you, I am the voyager, you the ****** Middle of the night envisioner, Re-writer of The Gift of the Magi,^ If I die today, I leave this as my last Will and Testament, Just another love poem You'll never read.
0
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
nat-lipstadt
Just another poem you'll never read
Climb into bed and... Hearth embers of body heat circulate, Tourists on self-guided walking tours, Exploring the cabalistic eighteen chai holies of the Human body, temple depository of spark divine. Heat sparkles cross over the isthmus of Touching Toes, Continental negotiators, swapping free heat for icicles, 2 X 10 interstitial connections, now land masses filled, Global warming credit trading par excellence Fingers, jew wandering, exiled to freedom, Intertwined within soft-edged, graying sea grasses, Coverlet over pounding chest, Hands illegally mining tousled head hair,   Nestling, nesting, without proper permits Lick away the rumbling hoarseness Coating a neighboring sleepy throat, Gate crasher bringing surround-sound comfort, Seeking to seal and still the groans, Escaping prisoners of the ills of the wearied mind Your favorite parts inspiring, demanding Song, word, drawing or simple quenching, Tonic of revival, an affirmation of self, Existence proofs met through need I write this for me, for her, for you. Suckers for iron pyrite, most will skip this polemic, What you don't know about me could be a Hit show on prime time cable TV. Like a cute commercial that makes you smile, For a product you'll never buy, I write this for me, for her, for anonymous you, I am the voyager, you the ****** Middle of the night envisioner, Re-writer of The Gift of the Magi,^ If I die today, I leave this as my last Will and Testament, Just another love poem You'll never read.
Continue reading...
37
The system Aint never been down with me So why the **** should I believe in liberty? The system contradicts Itself because of corrupt politics The system Says they for you but really for them They only interested in their power There laws and there wealth The system dont give a **** about the poor But always finds moneys for war The system Got thousands of soldiers who died for nothing Trying to find a man in some cave When Bin Laden been in his grave The system supports money More than facts its an unhonest act The system tells you how to think When to blink n whats the new brink? Style fashion fad Everybody who was straight its suddenly *** Even got men dressin' in drag The system plays the race card carefully So they can divide us individually The system says we love you scream for peace but yet i still see bombs over Baghdad Bombin' innocent brown people For power or for control over some ******** oil its the ultimate turmoil The system needs to be revolutionized By the real patriots The indians the blacks along with other indigenous peoples of the america Illegally stolen and sold for profits Of white western europeans The system never ever works Its up tous to stop the damage Before its completely destroyed Wake up hear me clear Dont be a slave to the system Dont be guided by fear Let them hear the shots We wont miss them And we unite as a people And say **** THE SYSTEM""
0
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 7:50 AM UTC
Ru7hl355_Gangsta
The System
The system Aint never been down with me So why the **** should I believe in liberty? The system contradicts Itself because of corrupt politics The system Says they for you but really for them They only interested in their power There laws and there wealth The system dont give a **** about the poor But always finds moneys for war The system Got thousands of soldiers who died for nothing Trying to find a man in some cave When Bin Laden been in his grave The system supports money More than facts its an unhonest act The system tells you how to think When to blink n whats the new brink? Style fashion fad Everybody who was straight its suddenly *** Even got men dressin' in drag The system plays the race card carefully So they can divide us individually The system says we love you scream for peace but yet i still see bombs over Baghdad Bombin' innocent brown people For power or for control over some ******** oil its the ultimate turmoil The system needs to be revolutionized By the real patriots The indians the blacks along with other indigenous peoples of the america Illegally stolen and sold for profits Of white western europeans The system never ever works Its up tous to stop the damage Before its completely destroyed Wake up hear me clear Dont be a slave to the system Dont be guided by fear Let them hear the shots We wont miss them And we unite as a people And say **** THE SYSTEM""
Continue reading...
43
He asks, "define emotion?" In my own state of carelessness, I give him the answer he never wanted Happiness, is driving 115 in a 65 MPH zone Not caring, Because a part of you wants to die young anyways A part of you is dead already But that is your secret And no one needs to know, All the aspects that you will never show. Desperation, is the feel of a sharp knife, Gliding against ****** skin like an experienced lover Giving release without slicing too deep. A smear, A mark, A badge of ******* honor Because you flirted with death and made it out alive. Stupidity,  is the freedom found at 16 Driving through a coastal city As the first cold front shimmies it's way through the trees   Illegally smoking cigarettes With a half bottle of ***** rolling around underneath the seat It was always ***** It just had to be Pleasure begins in a clever little pill It was almost too much, Sublime in nature.... Dangerous in reality But it made you feel good And for once Everything was ok Reality is the writing of my transgressions Like I haven't a care in the world who reads them.   I'm flawed... Why is this such a surprise to you? © 2014 Peach
0
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 10:17 PM UTC
peach
Cracked Lips
He asks, "define emotion?" In my own state of carelessness, I give him the answer he never wanted Happiness, is driving 115 in a 65 MPH zone Not caring, Because a part of you wants to die young anyways A part of you is dead already But that is your secret And no one needs to know, All the aspects that you will never show. Desperation, is the feel of a sharp knife, Gliding against ****** skin like an experienced lover Giving release without slicing too deep. A smear, A mark, A badge of ******* honor Because you flirted with death and made it out alive. Stupidity,  is the freedom found at 16 Driving through a coastal city As the first cold front shimmies it's way through the trees   Illegally smoking cigarettes With a half bottle of ***** rolling around underneath the seat It was always ***** It just had to be Pleasure begins in a clever little pill It was almost too much, Sublime in nature.... Dangerous in reality But it made you feel good And for once Everything was ok Reality is the writing of my transgressions Like I haven't a care in the world who reads them.   I'm flawed... Why is this such a surprise to you? © 2014 Peach
Continue reading...
36