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Mateuš Conrad Nov 2015
women are like that... the chair isn’t there, no one will ever sit on it... but she still plans for the chair to be there. men are like that... the chair isn’t there, no one will ever mind the chair should it be there... and he still doesn’t consider the chair to relate to the possibility of impregnation with his ******* of the ideas she will have to eat as the prime protein... unless of course he’s forced to go against his freedom and enter her will and make god prove himself freely kinned to her will and the chair.*

i love the fact that i can
drink,
write, watch the internet,
then watch the t.v.,
think about the bones of imaginary ******
of my hand,
switch off the t.v.
write,
remember the internet is static unless there’s an imput,
forget that too...
think of something...
that’s like a surgeon’s last sight of life
that’s more than a funeral mantlepiece...
well that’s me... it’s un-rhymed and less classical
that you might feel it might be...
i want to ******* to be honest...
but what’s that, ***’s a handshake?!
well... with so many sorry and soapy faces
i would look uncaring and clean faced to say hello
un-inhibited again... again... again:
i can say say it with a life... or sway saying it
with a profession as an actor; your choice... ha:
he who laughs last laughs true, and all interpretation comes last
as first to define wages in consideration of historians -
i might have said something like iodine matched up the
creases.... although the creases never scented iodine...
and the creases where never a wedding-dress... but skin’s leather
care for aged 80 in homeric blindness:
i might have... should have i doubt unless i was schooled
to be the envious of a circus played...
it doesn’t really matter... like poetry of
girls desiring a contract and newspaper snippets of likes...
for that biography of sylvia plath ending with:
‪#‎fucktartbollockshitbiographywaytoolong‬!
of course... then my ironing playlist changes
and i hear xednomorph’s satan’s presence...
then ooo la dip d’e doo d’ah becomes a *******
that just wanted to **** on santa’s beard to
hear the sunshine song of lapdancing reindeer
turning lapdancing into a shave / sheering:
***** tonk thomas engineer said: plot the blues
in plural for a patched up sacrifice of itchy thumbs up
for the sacrament: icon for a scarce testimony - icon for a scare -
pears i can juggle walking up the stairs...
juggling crucifixes walking up golgotha... i can’t:
if i did... i’d be a pope or a jew!
Paul Hardwick May 2015
And as that curtain closes
maybe play some of my tunes
it will say
full stop.

P@ul you are nothing now
all you have been
all you have done
you are nothing now.

All I had is, gone
I just wantted you  to love me
not leave me
in this limbo of my mind.

Wantted you
to see me as kind
not just ingnor me
I have imput too.
Just for I can          P@ul.
Zoe Grace Jun 2019
I do not understand
My thoughts are all twisted in my head
So the mere thought of untangling that mess
Fills me with dread.

Threads tangled together.
The red for love, the yellow for friendship, the blue for isolation
All of them tangled in a heap
Complete and utter desolation.

More strings form more confusion
The colours blur together and make things unclear
Is that red i see? Orange, yellow or maybe green?
I cannot work out my feelings using the imput i get from here.

I cannot tell if i love or like you,
If i simply care for you the way a friend would
But i certainly dont look at you
The same way a friend should.

You make me laugh like nobody has in a while
Make me rethink my actions and other things.
So you can see why im confused
To find you pulling on my heartstrings.

I know i need to wait a while
Before saying anything to you
This is because i know i need to find out
If my feelings for you are true.

And if they are true,
Then, pray tell, what are they about?
Which feelings are they?
This i D E F I N A T E L Y need to find out.

So ill spend a little time pulling on my threads
Finding out when and where each feeling begins.
Where they end and where they meet
My little colourful strings.
I'm not sure if i like this guy or not, and i need to take the time to figure it out, but im not good at that. So ill try. Wish me luck.
Ken Pepiton Mar 2021
Listen, the odd, unexpectedness of life after Covid,
the thoughts that...
surface, after the second Moderna shot,
when the conspiracy
seems suited to a new sorting of future humans,
except giving exceptionally focused long attention
spans with magician level hand-eye in REM,
which is recorded as text,
among the augmented,
the AI has an inside
peek at certain data,
the various vaccines are
making various immunity mods, that only work
on septuagenarians,
and then, for only fifty more years.
Be patient, if you fail to live fifty more years,
it's because you got the useless old person
vaccine that lets one ***** and moan
to death in < 12 months… so you won't notice.

Fifty years from now, ***** Harry.
Now, George Floyd, and Portland,
no-- fifty years from then, is that now,
we skipped that decade… I burned all the songs.
But,
but -nuthin' that zapped me ***** harry bein' fi'ty years,
and Shaft, too. Man, it was prophecy…
you gotta know those Seventies,
those was strange…

but mine were stranger. The joy of living in a lie,
where no body dies,
you can do that in certain kinds of stories,
kid versions, that
get represented for role play, as needed.
Robin Hood, most tellings, death is secondary evil.
Nobody dies in Grand Theft Auto, really,
but
it feels real, think, how much realer it feels,
at the mirror neutronic level where all imput is real
and authorized- allowing instant dopamine level
total galvanic response shock to seven in one
chakra zulu creflo dollah hollah
holy hallelujah

Seisachtheia - wait

there. that did it if it was ever done.

Reset, still ctrl alt del?
Screen froze.
There is nothing interesting on the whole internet or we would dissssappear
Say everything's alright but my sight ain't too bright
Looking at the plight black race stay on the fights
Fist clenched in the corner holding tight hard to place right
In front of wrong so I christen the **** to keep me on
Head strong watch the gong death bells still hung rung  
On my brains cellular device must be nice splitting Christ
Saw many images blemishes fools love to **** this but this
Heat too strong to out the burn stay in turns curve along
Beats to the groove of the song so many follow along
Its a hood thang memoirs of backlash boomerangs
Still remember the days as Kangz in Egypt before slaveships  
Words of us written on walls like bathroom ***** stalls
Still standing tall and I'm alright still on a quest for might


While mama's slaving in the kitchen I'm still pitching
Heats for eats in the streets but the beefs is too raw saw
The eyes of a brother dusted not to far dropped his claw
Grim reaper faced me now I just see he's an imagine of me
It's crazy am I dreaming or living promised broken givings
Thanks everyday I'm tryna dodge the shanks of the banks
Life signs crime time it's all by design keep in mind
Roosevelt said it himself then they oust his health wealth
Only for my ment-al **** the materials I focused imperials
Imput the fed serials
Now I'm free once I  trained my crown chakra to reality
Sitting no longer as a casualty now they label me insanity

— The End —