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A presence
presenting
a continuous torment
torturing
incessantly
until, even with cessation
only a tenuous self
is present
leaving only the resin

The maniacal
manifestation
is an infestation
festering around in my head
Its existence,
a creation
created at inception,
hacking my brain
Forever a trap
creating a
maniac

Acrimonious
to all mankind
Not acting
like a man
Not one word
that's kind
Committing crimes
and getting oneself
committed
A deviation
creating a deviant
Shifted values
due to a devalued
self

An esoteric
essence
seemingly sentenced
on this journey
by judge and jury,
not by one's peers
because the many
not able
to peer
into this individuality
The duplicity
of duality
that is my reality

Challenging myself
to a dual
One in which
I both
win and lose
But in the end
not breaking even
or coming out ahead
Always ending
further back
instead

Its back breaking
and always aching
Pain from which
not capable of
faking
Effort I’m taking
Of myself making
Time for a new king
For kinsmanship
is aloof
And this man’s ship
has sailed away
Sipping a port
at a shipping port
And yet
slipping away

Deeper still
In the depth
of still water
Sinking
into the abyss
Lost and gone
But not missed
Is this the end
of our fable?
Or will our “hero”
enable himself
and in the end
be able
Deciding who to be?
Cain or Abel?
For the hurricane
is hurrying along
Its aim always the same
Constant pain
A payment he feels
for the displaced
placement
which just in case
is placed
same place
he went

Ink in the face
A disgrace
When suddenly
encased in his brain
are racing thoughts
of a plan
he’s ace’n

A label of insanity
given by those
who claim sanity
when the reality
is their thoughts are free
and optimize
a sanitized
and homogenized
batter
And in the end
it doesn’t matter

Offering suggestions
in which they
feel threatened
Pathways congested
and protested
Testing them
Even worse,
bested
A problem beset
upon them
Time to steady
the flock
Roll n’ Rock
Inoculations we’re getting
Start the injections

“It’s been an honor”
Mounting my Lipizzaner
A disarmer
A charmer
The armor
‘mi amor’
Leaving me
wanting more
But as they keep score
the task is daunting
A life that’s haunting
with such splendid decor
-
Yet, can’t take any more
Their taunting
is leaving me sore
So to the atmosphere
I open that door
and flying up above
I soar

Forever more
Feel pain no more...
Written: August 17, 2018

All rights reserved.
Barton D Smock Jul 2012
‘ghost’     ‘angst’

     ‘wade’     where one might

‘weep’

he began to kick the place apart in his mind but didn’t finish.
some of the chairs were already down and the tables nailed.


she cut her knees and we said why

‘underwater’     the knife was there and my wrists

were also     ‘courtship’     ‘breadbasket’

     her face to which the years had not been kind but he could tell
they’d been polite.


I know my mother     ‘merestead’

‘mammogram’     I know my mother to be haunted

by a fetus     father took his hell

*to basement
where his food
came up
M Harris Feb 2017
Fairytale Evolutions,
Terminating Digital Mutations,
Simulated Sensations,
Transcendent Revolutions,

Hybrid Generations,
Altering Stagnant Amplifications,
Shape Shifting Constellations,
Sterilizing Implications,

Eliciting Blissful Animations,
Decoding Kaleidoscopic Flirtations,
Fabricating Holographic Dimensions,
Reflecting Labyrinth Ramifications,

Transgressional Diversifications,
Empathetic Extortion,
Serene Distortion,
Subversive Contortion,

Forging Conceptual Inoculations
Violating Illusionary Variations,
Incarnating Prototype Deviations,
Radiating Subtle Speculations,
Catalyzing Crystallized Civilizations.


-01:09AM
Carl Hoek Mar 2012
i lost my ******* keys like an *******
then i found them on my bookshelf
haphazardly laid about in swoon style
key spooning digital receptor
transmitter

on the drunken prowl debts are paid
verbal inoculations
of heart
a boll weevil of the mind


such thoughts will follow
blindly
without content

clouds in the nitrogen reflective sky
bite marks and bruises on my skin
both condensed by mystical thought
as only a proven theorist could show

the insanity of logic
is our proof of existence

therefore hallucinating  long red hairs
the keyboard that is made apparent by the inner hellfire
the so called tortured soul
and the inadequacy of all human comprehension

we can bring an end to the idea of symbolism
and resort to the purest form of command
relinquish all hope in control

jump from roof to roof
off a moving train

escape from that which draws you to your birthplace
end the dying shells
get off the island
stay with your sickness

atleast it's trying to leave you
Anais Vionet Nov 2023
I traveled almost everywhere, growing up. It took years. The landscapes, flora and fauna, the art, music, cuisines and curse words all seem to blend together in my mind.

Mount Fuji, the Rhine, the Himalayas, the Chattahoochee, Shenzhen, Washington DC, the Alps, and Appalachians, Moscow, Beijing, Dublin, Portland, Paris, Atlanta, London, St. Petersburg, Tokyo, Rome, Wuhan, Berlin, the Yangtze, the Mississippi, Saint-Tropez and LA - are all jumbled up in my brain, like old, wrinkled maps in a glove compartment.

My mom has total recall - she can remember every day of her life since her mama handed her a faded yellow and blue rattle when she was 6 months old - God gave me the glove compartment.

Still, some things are unforgettable, like an electrical storm breaking around Mt Everest, the lights of New York City, at night, from a helicopter, glittering on the horizon like a queen’s crown. The Danube, from a riverboat under a too-bright moon and the elegant poverty of Italy.

In some ways, I grew up like an exile because we moved every couple of years and I’d have to start my social life all over again - usually in a different language. Every place we left seemed a lost paradise, and each new place seemed cold and harsh.

Speaking of home to harsh transitions, November recess is over and we’re back in New Haven - with two weeks before final exams. Welcome to exhaustion week (weeks).

This morning I started going through my syllabuses, and after a week of holidaying - they seemed like indecipherable relics from a different world, a world of papers, tests and stingy-fun. I’ve so many things to wrap-up, my brain can’t seem to contain them all, I’m a gadget that’s out of memory.

I used to take my books on vacation, to remain in the ‘game’ mentally and stay ahead of the grind. Not this time. Hey, growing up, I’ve had my moments of ‘developmentally appropriate’ rebellion - in this case - I wanted memories to hoard, like inoculations against the coming work and loneliness cycles.
My parents are both doctors who traveled the world to teach (heart surgery) and treat (for free) the poor who would have otherwise died.
David Ehrgott Dec 2015
If I tore apart
What was art
And made it real
Not to conceal
My thoughts and aspirations
Insinuations
Inoculations
My trials and tribulations
Meaning nothing
No education
No learning experience
Forced into labor
Tormented to dance
One supplication
Give a little back of what you took
I wasn't asking for all
Just a sum
Less than you took from me
And I begged, and I pleaded, and you ignored
  
Well, yesterday you had your chance
You could have been a man
Instead you choose ignorance
*** 'em, *** 'em, *** 'em
*** 'em, *** 'em, *** 'em
Funny language you use
Now I get the name
And why people marry for revenge
  
Well, there's a fat cat at
Ninety fourth and
Sea Pea Double You
And their doorman is my doormat
And he stains
And he stinks of *** fat
And the bloodstains on your door
Will they silence your high *****
As she bleeds in the high roar
Of the flaming fire down below
Across the Styx
  
Given every chance I know
But, the fat cat could not let go
Now his friends they talk real low
'bout the crazy guy named joe
How he sits with his cold toes
In a lonely old jail cell
And the fat cat and his kitty
Had a chance, now it's o'er
And the worms feast as they bore
In to fat cat and his kitty
  
Don't you look at me as bad
For I know what you did was sad
And If I give your girl a name
I owe her that and much more pain
Roll over now or
Turn around
You haven't ears to
Hear this
Sound
Ken Pepiton Sep 2020
An experiment in thought at my own speed,
attested as being variable based on vocabulary of my AI,
so
pretty quick.

Establishing the point in value, the idea,
of attending to wealth while wool gathering, late
in the summer of 2020,
thinking at leisure beyond measure of any man in my class
a short time ago.
This now, a moment in a given day during
the September, final summer moon,
seventh moon on a world with a
time measured finite
seemingly, ostensibly, suppposedly -- in clumps of the three
as if all things may come in threes at one
stage in being realized
to matter --- but of the three ways to say
supppose, sup?
The answer presupposes the quest
to find it, any story told
poses the problem, the thing that catches our
attention, that thing
holds attractive value, see,

made you look, and peek-a-boo are one game.
Hide and seek is as well.

Two sides to every story, three if we see the story
has us in it. We are nothing if we share no
knowns finished and finite, as this is formed from those
early knowns we intuited everybody knew, and
these acculturation inoculations bring about socially
proper manners
in spaces with others
cultured, leavened, spiced and fashioned
thoughts we were taught,
these
we learn today
and those others everyone knows, or
maybe not,
may be otherwise… slow dawning aspect

some people never think experimentally

- experiments are guesses, rolls of the die
- I imagine we agree, but, as yet, your guess is as good as any


maybe not, may be otherwise… slow dawning aspect
as the world turns, while our attention is locked
on a star nailed
to the roof of heaven,
--- apsidal vault of stars as seen in church-like structures (1)

as imagined and portrayed prior to Tycho losing
his nose for nuance by lack of focus,
a moment of inattention,
all a magi-tech needs
- look to the quarry you come from
see, before,
back when no lens had yet been ground round
on one side,
flat on the other,
our un augmented eye could chance a glance,
a camera obscura occurrence
once each year as Sirius
rises in line with the story being told, to prove,

we know, and now, you know,
but
you don’t know how and you may only guess why.

Your mortal dilemma, you cannot imagine knowing
everything, ever, but
we
can't wish to go over the edge to learn much faster
if that means dying as
all that ever matters does,
based on experience as recorded in all Wikepedia,
if this tekhne ever fails, these thoughts
remain to be thought,
gains again are terms of worth-ship man seems the
measurer of,

I'd love to make sense of all the info in the cloud,
sort it into searchable stacks, and as I wished,
AI took that care from me
but, finding some worth in being still
demands attention for which we must pay,
and
the daily effort keeps your bowels moving in time.
Minds of our kind imagined all this stuff we can't make up.

(1)
apse (n.)"semicircular extension at the end of a church," 1846,
from Latin apsis "an arch, a vault,"
from Greek hapsis (Ionic apsis) "loop, arch,"
originally "a fastening, felloe of a wheel,"
from haptein "fasten together,"  {boing, pro-tein haptein}
which is of unknown origin.

The original sense in Greek
seems to have been the joining of the arcs
to form a circle,
especially in making a wheel.
The architectural term is earlier
attested in English
in the Latin form (1706). Related: Apsidal.

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=apsidal>
While listening to Marxism by Thomas Sowell with half my brain.
Chris D Aechtner Nov 2021
It's a downer to express the largest-scale tragedy of my lifetime

over and over again.

I've combed through 10,014 medical malpractice reports of young people who had been strong and without complication up until receiving the one-eyed technocratic snake bite that supposedly has nothing to do with their suspicious deaths,

I've gone through 25,117 autopsy reports (not every report: I scanned bunches of 250 reports in 10 groups of 25 reports or 25 groups of 10 reports at a time for very specific details, though I've read some of the reports 5 or more times) of elderly people who had survived world wars, epidemics, pandemics, and many outbreak and spikes, only to succumb within 72 hours of receiving whichever junk SGT inoculations that have nothing to do with their untimely deaths—

that occurred in North America
over a 2 week period.

I'm not supposed to talk about it.

I'm not supposed to express anything
other than expressions of agreement
that Delta variants and the unvaccinated
are killing the vaccinated

or express nothing at all.

I'm not supposed to express that I know the ingredients, and the processes involved to source ingredients, on chemical, molecular, cellular levels; that I know the MSDS and LCSS documentation, and patents, involved.

But, I do express it, just as I did again above.

When someone claims that their significant other didn't die from the shot that they had received within 24 hrs of dying,
I'm supposed to agree with the cheap, disloyal, dumbed-down, brainwashed, bootlicking, unscientific, pseudo-intellectual, spineless coward

who is hurting from losing a loved one.

I'm sorry.

I'm not supposed to express that we've known since 1991 that the synthetic chemical digitized mRNA, that isn't really mRNA, causes the host to spin-off variants of multi-drug-resistant and multi-vaccine-resistant super microorganisms—subtype variants of virions and bacteria that are often variants of variants of variants.

I'm supposed to stay zipped-up
or—encourage!—offer support
and congratulations to people
who are suiciding and committing
****** and euthanasia

without proper informed consent.

Be positive about it. Smile. Nod.

Have it be whatever you want it to be.
Use mockingbird skills to make it real— abracadabra!—it's en vogue, all the rage
to parrot percentages of efficacy,
to virtue signal over standing with
trillion $ industries and special interest
against Earth and humanity.
Insert cash money and mirages
into the soul-******* jukebox, baby.

Rage With The Machine.
Rage For The Machine.

Yesterday's false-positive
is today's false-negative.

Thomson Reuters will fact check you
into a cancer case to vindicate delusions, stubbornness, and negative pride.

I'm not supposed to express that within the principles and disciplines of medical ethics and the Hippocratic Oath, it's ethically corrupt and illegal to use political and emotional coercion, especially while simultaneously dangling fear over the intended target, to enforce/push any drug treatment, regardless of situation.

I'm supposed to use dope and *****
and a movie
to switch tracks
from my passionate obsession.

I watched a movie that included
a medical health scam to entrap the people
in a fashion similar to when the Germans believed that they were receiving vaccines
that helped to defend against typhus.

If we ever find ourselves in opposite sides
and positions as we are currently,
please offer proper informed consent
to the people.
11 16 2021

I immensely enjoy flying under the radar here, so to speak, find it to be freeing and empowering.

I generally don't like trendy stuff, though, some of the trendy stuff are some of the brighter, oddly cut gems.

I spent too much time losing myself in the subjectivity of others, basically answering questions that people are too lazy to explore for themselves.
Regardless of the pieces being good or bad, every piece that I've written during 2021 happened because I purposely didn't reply to a question.

For every boring, inane, counterproductive question that I don't answer, I write a new piece.

Aside from a few good friends, I'm pondering whether or not I should block accounts of people who I know from other venues and platforms, so that I'm not asked an overwhelmingly amount of redundantly inane questions again, as I'm enjoying the anonymity and peacefulness that I find here.

Especially because of the current states of affairs,
I generally don't like most humans anymore, but deeply love the few whom I cherish, adore, and respect unconditionally.
still indelibly scored within
windmills of my mind
this July 22nd, 2020.

Imagine yours truly post pubescence
(no matter ye never met me)
all that life in front of me
argh... precious time squandered
abustle with rattle and hum of compulsions
slavishly buzzfeeding pet peeves.

Anorexia nervosa ranked
as thee moost detrimental
upon cusp of prepubescence
I metaphorically teetered
and tottered on the brink
of deep Russian Siberian exile.

While awaiting piano lesson
(circa early 1970's)
collapsed unto the floor
Barbara McCall, née Youngblood
helplessly watched her student (me)
he flailed, garbled, hobbled...
succumbed into heart of darkness
softly wailing "I cannot live anymore"
or some such grievous plaintive utterance.

Long befuddled and dazed journey into night
began to hound my doggone noggin
while in the throes of puberty
voices dictated me to forego
first one meal, two, then all hunger pangs
eventually stymied, squelched, and silenced.

Dumbfounded family members
(father, mother, and deux sisters)
baffled, and thought
precious progeny and brother respectively
possibly involved with drugs
(an easier fix in retrospect),
versus shattered psyche (mine)
analogous to Humpty Dumpty mishap
only far more serious.

Even curious peers queried me
during lunchtime understandably asking,
whether non intake of food
nsync and/or linkedin
with particular religion,
which inquisitiveness answered
with shrug of shoulders,
cuz reason without rhyme
i.e. existential crisis
impossible mission to communicate
at that moment, whereby
all ears and eyes turned toward me
I wanted to crawl into
a black hole and disappear.

I felt absolutely zero joie de vivre
(no surprise stating the obvious)
essentially loathed being alive
when fellow students grilled me
(unspoken tongue in cheek retort
cheeses crust inaudibly uttered).

A short while prior
before anorexia nervosa got free rein
to ride amuck
analogous to red
(angry) bulls running roughshod
think utmost helter skelter
my mother acquired degree
as licensed practical nurse
courtesy local vocational trade school.

She crafted nutritious concoctions
yet interestingly enough
did not watch me like a hawk
rather left her sole skinny son
with task to consume sizable quantity
without dereliction to pour
said healthy drink down toilet.

I quickly established a ritual sipping elixir
whereby yours truly filled
little plastic measuring cup
then painstakingly nursed
said tumbler size capful

down to the last drop,
which inexorably time consuming process
found hardly any spare hours
for any other (necessary
or otherwise) function.

Eventually solid food intake
integrated with pureed secret ingredients,
yet even the painful prospect receiving
iron inoculations into bony buttucks
(punitive punishment gladly accepted)
without curbing appetite for self destruction,

which as an aside mother dearest
never disclosed constituent parts
comprising blended conglomerate
when, some few decades later,
she went to her grave.
Ken Pepiton Aug 1
Suppose, Cain, the first born son,
came after at least one sister, real world.

Pretend the Torah narrative is useful knowing,
if the story version we have is the public
version of the mysteries involved in why
Adam, ee-shee one, could not find a mate.
- How could God have imagined Adam
- could find a way to procreate, sans Eve?

{as a reader, with live edit privileges, I find
the idea that spiritual enlightenment can be
made up, faked entirely, and has been, often.

Each fruit from the Scribes and Pharisees,
who devised the canon after prophets,
that select kind of prayed for offering,
suffer little children to come unto me.
Such prophets, after Constantine,
all who knew the lie told it.
Business is busyness,
we pay attention,
prophecy vows
all went into
commercial exchange and property law.
Most specialized
in making time interesting,
quantifiable for accountibility to the instant…

walk away from the ideas Catholics hold sacred,
walk into the wilderness to be tested, not tempted,

how would you handle a real powerful accusing
spirit? Eh,

same form as G_D, who must be worshipped
in spirit, in deed, using mind as mind is now

known to be more filled with mere ideas
from all the collected works of all mankind,

representative ensamples, we live
in a treehouse, that my father built,

and once he built one with tumble weeds,
and I crawled in and was delighted,

then we burned those tumble weeds,
and danced like Indians in Peter Pan.



God did not imagine Adam could find a wife,
but for a ritually told story,
details fall to teachers
- who travel and return,

Why not, well, says the competent old teller
the story of all people, begins from our people
surviving as a people, since the most recent
effective winnowing of the gene pool used
to form the biological processes active
in our bubble of life, in said to be unlikely
conditions just… just right, adjustable
to practically perfect. Eh,
to American Standard averages and distribution.

Stacking order,
marching order, sowing order, reaping order,

thing use knowing, hurt pain knowing,
why hurt pain making hurts have use,
a whip for the creature pulling the load,

how long did it take to feel the weight
of knowing all the seeds, and which were best
for what use, nettles for thread for holes,

Needles, little needs, I need, to hold, this to that,
Ah,
remember those thorns, needless to say.

Thorns serve me, the mind with the will
to correct a misconception that has formed a lie,
that is my point.
I am a burr in your sock. A seeded idea.


Cain had sisters, likely older than he;
therefore, he was likely doted on, if he
is ever a living part of living story truth told.

A culture formed atop the scripturalized myth,

and myth it is, amigo. We really do know,
the reason for the book compiled as Tanach:
Together Torah, Nevi’im (Prophets) and Ketuvim (Writings)
comprise what is known as the Tanach.
This name for the Hebrew Bible is made up
of the first letter sound
of each
of the three sections
of the Bible.
Das Buch.
The Book, then spends centuries as stories, before
the first book intended to function as a binding story,

offering freedom from fear of death.
For obediance fed to children daily.
By rote. Written authority, right, power.
Some wombed man, in UR, what was her name?
Ai know, in my extra long term memory, she called her-
holy self,  Enheduana, and claimed authorship,
in writing, I, Enheduana,

- hours and hours
- days and days
you see the pattern taking times
shape from when we guessed, it,

this it, we inhabit the planet in one
of these possible solution situ-thingies
a cusp at the edge of next,
applied Christianity, of the merest sort,
sieved and dried,
ground to finest dust,
viral original intention proof
**** into the wind, looping reality
at this scale, human scale, stretching

as when a black hole ***** reality,
as witnessed by

many, who saw it on TV.
Magic acts, tricks of the trade,

attention merchants,
lend me you ears,
can you hear me now?

right up there with
wheres the beef?

Mikey likes it.
Life. Good ad.
But I skipped the 70s.
Got no TV generation inoculations.

M'using, musing,
thinking, denken,

spacing, zoning

Worthy sacred making time
deemed worth the effort to explain.

There is an after story after
the story told for four thousand years,

The bible, Tanach and the 27 pieces
after Jesus,
done what he done…

Billions of people learned to read,

trillions of worth units were created
to pay the price
to teach the last lie necessary,
for the republic, you know, perfect
form for a society powered by slaves,
and the spirit of inventiveness.

Guardians, yes, those must believe
the call of duty from a story's
teller's testimony is true, and to
those who hear the call, as truth,
the loyalty oath is mere insurance,
break the oath Christ told you not to swear,
now,
that you recall the pledge, American, vet.
Semper fi.
Yet, we release you from all debt.

Feel free to assume final form.
Inherit the wind.
Novel forms of muses used since ever had solidstate RAM
(this endeavor more self directed to progeny,
whose psyche wounded, strafed, and nicked.)

Incumbent upon me own
     purring impetus, a sincere
desire arose NOT to ask
     thee anything, but mere
lee accept father's shortcomings,
     which time constraint here
which poetic expression hoop
     fully evokes thee dear

daughter (Eden Liat,
     a whip smart,
     mature first born),
     who didst bear
witness to unpleasant
     super charged rage
     undoubtedly breeding aversion,
anger, disgust, hostility, embarrassment,

     estrangement, hatred, ill-will,
     loathing, repugnance, shame
     when we lived at
     1148 greentree Lane,
     and 734 West Railroad Avenue
neither riches such
     as precious metals,
     jewels, gems, et cetera,

     could never buy
thee equivalent of
     an admirable, equitable,
     and inimitable
     "star student" die
ving (figuratively) into
     the thick of life,
     which grueling, sans fierce

     exertion bore fly
ying colors, where Lower
     Merion academic instructors
     (kindergarten to twelfth grade) high
lee touted your
     above average aptitude
viz, dominant intellectual
     bent intrinsically, genetically,

     and enigmatically brewed,
which "smarts,"did
     advantageously inc clued,
perhaps even a sum mattering
     of intelligence quotient
     girl scout points froom this dude
yielded a metaphorically harmonically,
     and compositionally complex

     cerebral edifice etude,
oh...and of course being
     nursed by "mother"
     as moost vital infant food
to foster (long hall)
     robust body, mind
     and spirit that
     did more good

then harm (I hardly
     aver no critique
     posed against breast milk)
case in point attributes
     your physical health,
     when rarely did thee ail
accessing apportioned medicaid
     resources, the pediatric

     service provider would avail
exempt from common
     child hood diseases
     (nearly all eradicated -
     at least in this country)
     with proven inoculations,
     which only minimally caused
     uncomfortable side affects,

     and for the most
     part did derail,
yet...no matter this dada
     strove not to fail
as thee paternal parent,
I recognize resentment,
     that oft times burst forth
     like a furious gale

     (putting dear old Florence -
     yes her of cane to shame)
if this muggle able and willing
     to wave a magic wand,
     and turn back
     the hands of time
he would revisit those
     instances, when hurtfulness

     thee em man hint
     beautiful darling daughter,
    would even resort to mime
to communicate the
     inadvertent hostile environment,
     ye and the Punim unfairly weathered
     asper blistering crime,
asthma person appeared as a ***,

when this "sir" with hate,
     and/or mother
appeared ill suited tubby
     legal birthright guardians
     in part attributed,
one or both of us
     vowing school of hard knocks
     tubby a flunked out “FAKE” alum.
Management here at
Highland Manor Apartments sent out word
that tomorrow, January twenty third,
two thousand and twenty one,
we (all residents) will receive the first (of two)
inoculations to stave off getting COVID-19,
hence mine poetic title might seem absurd.

Aforementioned stance toward death
obviously antithetical
regarding desire to stay alive
and most oppressive
when mine mental, physical
and/or spiritual yours truly
takes a (swan) dive
analogous where bajillion bees
swarm from their hive.

Linkedin with well known poem by and by
penned by Emily Dickinson, I didst decry
expressed her relief to die
"Because I could not stop for Death,"
she aptly crafted verses to comply
reverently, merrily, and gloriously accepting
cessation of existence well nigh
as does one garden variety generic goofy guy.

All natural catastrophes aside,
plus excluding thermonuclear war,
where civilization would get fried
nullifying idea viz,
let conscience be your guide,
nor no place to run and hide
left to grapple with dystopian quandary

shuttering fright housed inside
in one **** annihilating prejudice
(white privilege included) and pride
reducing to ashes trumpeting
self importance, where snide
persona grata becomes irrelevant
as does living social
or vacationing in Telluride.

Interestingly enough,
I do not entertain notions
inflicting self harm nor suicide,
but expect longevity (to ride
one after another orbitz around the sun)

maximum total (represented courtesy
value units and tens place)
at minimum exceeds double digits
in plain English aged
to perfection groom and bride
attains at least ninety nine years.

Despite skittering within hair's breadth or blink
looming over the edge no time to think,
cuz no matter being knight in shining armor
I can scrunch and squint thru visored *****,
and espy and the title
of a storied book by Tom Wolfe I think
Old Rotten Gotham sliding into behavioral sink,
amidst so much flotsam and jetsam

while singing Skidamarink
surrender unavoidable fate
cuz destiny dis rapper doth not shrink
and recognizes that whatever does not ****
will only make me stronger
(money back guarantee)
I attain a spry five score birthdays
and while away hours
playing solitary game of tiddlywink.
Bo Tansky May 2020
Morning shower was wonderful  
Although I always shower alone
Who is the one who follows me there
Where I lay restless my thoughts bare
Live streaming rivulets crystal clear
Lost in a watery mist
With whomever I dare
My reluctant nakedness  
Bringing thoughts of you near
  
What safety here
What denied demon deity
Are you
What vampire warmth *******
Shadow dancing
Dumb down daring
Lives here
Am I waking from the dream
Is it all it seems
My body
My soul
Lay bare
Perhaps if true
That I have always showered alone
Till I found you there


Who is the you
Of whom I speak
Pieces of the whole
Yanked from my soul
Incomplete  

You hide in a shower of lies
Whoever you are
Masquerading as truth
Though truth be subjective
I’m told
Take off the blindfold
You have been here so long
The waters turned cold

Would  
Washing away the lies
Lies there
Hope
Dreams
Plans and schemes
Try to stay alive  
Lazy mantra
No work
For you.

For me
An emotional confessional
For the cleansed of perfection
I thought-
Of the sequence of events
That led to you leaving
The madness of mania
Reaching a fevered pitch
A fire of despair
Contagious as it draws near
From bed to bed it jumped
Unconscious
Retaliation of
Of outrage and contempt
Inoculations against the lie
Of feeble fallibility
And all sensibility
Was gone
I was aflame
And you the fire.

Alas the fire has died
  
Chiefs
All of them
What was it the chief said
Hold on to what you believe
Even if it’s a tree.
A tree
That stands alone.

Trees that stood alone.
All of them
All three
Trees that stood alone
Branches rigid like stone
Arthritic roots digging deep
Olive branches
To cover the shame shifters
Name game blamers
Who left the house
Through the back door
Metaphor
Expressing only what they want you to see
O pinnacles of propriety
You lied to me
Worse
I believed the lies
And could not see
I
Sometimes delving deep
Into the craziness
Of a felt connection
Screaming in silence
For you have
For you
Whoever you are
My reason for living
My fury at dying
My anger at the lies
My hurt that won’t heal
My life a disguise


I reject the madness of projection
Take back the parts that were never mine
Take your sad story
You need it
To stay alive

It’s only
A good detective show.
Searched for the missing pieces
And
Didn’t want to say
I told you so.

Aries are like that
Ruled by Mars
And fiery.
Headstrong
And wise
With the moon and the sun in Gemini
As of this writing
Truth-seeking Aries
Will never tell you a lie
Competitive but not in a mean way
But blunt
Sometimes
Blunt


Three chiefs in a room
Was definitely a crowd
What’s more
There were actually
Four or more
You couldn’t see them though
For they were lying low
Parasitic opinions
Prodding for advantage
Plotting
Punishing
Ghosts
Of Christmas past
Present and future
Specters of possibilities
Probabilities
Imagined
Some nightmarishly so
Threatening your very existence
With things you do not know

Time equally
Spent
Between and betwixt
Not seeming to take sides
Lest it seems a trick

Looked you in the eye
Casual enough
Look away
With a casual sigh
Timing is everything
Not to mention the conversation
Lost in the looking
Nothing really lost
Nothing really found
What did you say?
And can you repeat that
I was just wondering
Daydreaming to be truthful
Why should I listen to you
and
Why did you wear blue  
It’s a funny question
I know.
And can you please repeat what you just said
I was trying to read your expression
instead
I know I must sound an idiot
Isn’t funny how I wore blue too.
Between him and him and you
I wrote three hymns
And a hallelujah too
Maybe it all played out as it should have
With no could of or
Would of
A natural softening of the boundaries
Perhaps a dissolution of egos
Led me into your inner chamber
Like Mars
The god of war
Destroyed what was not real
And then receded
You pleaded
For me to go
Quickly.
Three was always a crowd,
A necessary triangulation
A supply chamber
For those who wore a shroud

Now heard you say
Now go away
Loud and clear
Why so loud and why so clear
Did you think me hard to hear
Could you not have whispered low
Softly to go
Bt no
Then
It was a literal death toll
For you too
I could not say
You could not stay
There was nothing left to do

You picked up what you could
And leftover me.
Bereft
Stepped over me
And left
Nevertheless
What’s in the conquest?
What did you get?
Missing soul piece

Did you get what you wanted
Was it a success?
Then
In the end, it was all worth it
It seems
The Machiavellian end justified the means
I’m not really sure if this is what I mean.
My words seem so inadequate.
Perhaps the best defense is an offense.
In any event
I’m off the fence.
But
Still in search
Of some pieces
I might have missed
Along the way.
As September daze will soon arrive
recollections from a
psychologically checkered  past
loom large recalling  
tragic storied days of mein kampf.

Circa early nineteen seventies:
As a mere slip of a shy lad,
(who knew nothing
about powder milk biscuits),
I experienced unfettered amorousness
toward an equally introverted lass
(conjured courtesy my imagination),
though both of us
barely out of our boyhood
and girlhood respectively
unfettered infatuation naturally
found me wedded to Anna Rexia.

Unhealthy relationship between us
left the writer of these words
with ****** dysmorphic  
skeletal elements of harried style,
swiftly tailored over
mine ensuing tweener years,
which pronounced after effect(s)
still linger approximately five decades
after existential crisis indelibly pierced,
scored and tattooed permanent
anatomical and  physiological characteristics
within windmills of my mind
namely delicately impressed psyche
communicated this August 30th, 2022.

Imagine yours truly post pubescence;
(no matter ye never met me)
all that life in front of one young buck
argh... precious time squandered;
I blithely would surrender
entire corporel being
lock, stock, and barrel,
whereby mine fractured mindscape abustle
with rattle and hum of compulsions
most time consuming innocuous rituals
slavishly buzzfeeding pet peeves.

Anorexia nervosa ranked
as thee moost detrimental
upon cusp of prepubescence;
I metaphorically teetered
and tottered on the brink
of deep analogous
Russian Siberian exile.

While awaiting piano lesson
(circa early 1970's)
collapsed unto the floor
Barbara McCall, née Youngblood
helplessly watched her student (me)
he flailed, garbled, hobbled...
succumbed into heart of darkness
softly wailing "I cannot live anymore"
or some such grievous plaintive utterance.

Long befuddled long dazed journey into night
began to hound my doggone noggin
while in the throes of puberty
voices dictated me to forego
first one meal, two, then all hunger pangs
eventually stymied, squelched, and silenced.

Dumbfounded family members
(father, mother, and deux sisters)
baffled, and thought
precious progeny and brother respectively
possibly involved with drugs
(an easier fix in retrospect),
versus shattered psyche (mine)
analogous to Humpty Dumpty mishap
only far more serious.

Even curious peers queried me
during lunchtime understandably asking,
whether non intake of food
nsync and/or linkedin
with particular religion,
which inquisitiveness answered
with shrug of shoulders,

cuz reason without rhyme
i.e. existential crisis
impossible mission to communicate
at that moment, whereby
all ears and eyes turned toward me
I wanted to crawl into
a black hole and disappear.

I felt absolutely zero joie de vivre
(no surprise stating the obvious)
essentially loathed being alive
when fellow students grilled me
(unspoken tongue in cheek retort
cheeses crust inaudibly uttered).

A short while prior
before anorexia nervosa got free rein
to ride amuck
analogous to red
(angry) bulls running roughshod
think utmost helter skelter
my mother acquired degree
as licensed practical nurse
courtesy local vocational trade school.

She crafted nutritious concoctions,
yet interestingly enough
did not watch me like a hawk
rather left her sole skinny son
with task to consume sizable quantity
without dereliction to pour
said healthy drink down toilet.

I quickly established routine sipping elixir
whereby yours truly filled
little plastic measuring cup
then painstakingly nursed
said tumbler size capful
down gullet - good to the last drop,
which inexorably time consuming process
found hardly any spare hours
for any other (necessary
or otherwise) function.

Eventually solid food intake
integrated with pureed secret ingredients,
yet even the painful prospect receiving
iron inoculations into bony buttucks
(punitive punishment gladly accepted)
without curbing appetite for self destruction,
which as an aside mother dearest
never disclosed constituent parts
comprising blended conglomerate
when, some few decades later,
she went to her grave.
I revised a poem written
January twenty second
last year – two thousand twenty one
regarding gratitude for Medicare
Insurance to foot the bill
concerning ability to heal
courtesy immune system
undergoing toe till agency
or closest approximation thereof  
impossible mission to undergo
one hundred percent protection
against contracting deadly illness,
viz latest epidemic impacting civilization.

Here at Highland Manor Apartments
Saturday January twenty third,
two thousand and twenty one,
I attest yours truly
received the first (of four)
inoculations to stave off
getting COVID-19,
thus mine poetic title
might not seem absurd.

Wednesday February third
and Friday October twenty second
same year as above
witnessed himself receiving
second and third injections respectively
to diminish vulnerability
contracting transmissible pathogen.

Today Wednesday April sixth
two thousand twenty two
poet of Perkiomen Valley
received the fourth
bringing him up to date
(or speed if you prefer druggist's lingo)
with Center for disease
control recommendations.

Aforementioned stance toward death
(meaning taking preventative measures
to live healthy existence)
obviously avoid Saturday night fever
regarding desire Stayin' Alive
and most oppressive
when mine mental, physical
and/or spiritual yours truly
takes a (swan) dive
analogous where bajillion bees
swarm from their hive.

Linkedin with well known poem by and by
penned by Emily Dickinson, I didst decry
expressed her relief
to surender release
and amazingly gracefully die
"Because I could not stop for Death,"
she aptly crafted verses to comply
reverently, merrily, and gloriously accepting
cessation of existence well nigh
as does one garden variety generic goofy guy.

All natural catastrophes aside,
plus excluding thermonuclear war,
where civilization would get fried
nullifying idea viz,
let conscience be your guide,
nor no place to run and hide
left to grapple with dystopian quandary

shuttering fright housed inside
in one **** annihilating prejudice
(white privilege included) and pride
reducing to ashes trumpeting
self importance, where snide
persona grata becomes irrelevant
as does living social
or vacationing in Telluride.

Interestingly enough,
I do not entertain notions
inflicting self harm nor suicide,
but expect longevity (to ride
one after another orbitz around the sun)

minimum total (represented courtesy
value units and tens place)
equaling the largest double digit
in plain Olde English aged
to perfection groom and bride
attains at least ninety nine years.

Despite skittering within hair's breadth or blink
looming over the edge no time to think,
cuz no matter being knight in shining armor
I can scrunch and squint thru visored *****,
and espy and the title
of a storied book by Tom Wolfe I think
Old Rotten Gotham sliding into behavioral sink,
amidst so much flotsam and jetsam

while singing Skidamarink
surrender unavoidable fate
cuz destiny dis rapper doth not shrink
and recognizes that whatever does not ****
will only make me stronger
(money back guarantee)
I attain a spry five score birthdays
and while away hours
playing solitary game of tiddlywink.
Bob B Aug 2021
In 1777 we hear
Death from smallpox was a fear.
Much to Washington's dismay,
Troops were dying every day.

Sound off: one, two;
Sound off: three, four;
Bring it on down: one, two,
Three, four…(beat)…THREE, FOUR!

Despite the soldiers' expertise,
Most of them died from disease.
Smallpox was a bigger threat
Than dying from a bayonet.

Trying to think outside the box,
The British even used the pox
To cause much greater deprivation
By spreading it through the population.

In Europe there were indications
Of the value of inoculations.
So British troops were free from worry
While smallpox germs unleashed their fury.

Sound off: one, two;
Sound off: three, four;
Bring it on down: one, two
Three, four…(beat)…THREE, FOUR!

Washington said, "This won't do.
If WE don't act now, we are through."
Showing that he had a spine,
He had to lay it on the line:

To stop from being obliterated,
He had all troops inoculated.
That was a major contribution
To the American Revolution.

When lack of knowledge feeds distrust,
Using wisdom is a must.
We know that when sickness thrives,
A shot in the arm can save our lives.

Sound off: one, two;
Sound off: three, four;
Bring it on down: one, two
Three, four…(beat)…THREE, FOUR!

-by Bob B (8-1-21)
What was that?

Was it...
Frustration,
Infactuation,
Intimidation,
Humilation?

Compl­aints of misinformation,
Fever from inoculations,
Bully pulpit installations,
Social media revelations,
Orange crush situations,
Closed minded stagnation,
Radical simulations,
or that crazy armed insurrection.

It might be
a division of the population

Then it could be a

celebration,
an exuberation,
coronation,
an inauguration?

Complaints of tempation,
Riveted attempts of execution,
Attacks of verbal accusations,
Wall Street inflation,
Crossing the border examinations,
A presidental hibernation,
Constant constipation
or divisive communication?

In the end it was just
a very confused and crossed
democratic election!!!
Normally, when a patent is filed and approved, as Dr. Gallo’s was, anyone who uses the product or invention owes a royalty payment to the inventor. Thus, holding the intellectual property laws to their fullest interpretations, one must only wonder why Dr. Gallo has yet to file a lawsuit seeking to recover damages from the usage of his invention? As odd as this scenario may sound, it bears need for additional scrutiny. The scientific evidence is complete and compelling, the A.I.D.S. Virus is a designer bi-product of the U.S. Special Virus program. The Special Virus program was a federal virus development program that persisted in the United States from 1962 until 1978. The U.S. Special Virus was then added as ‘compliment’ to vaccine inoculations in Africa and Manhattan. Shortly thereafter the world was overwhelmed with mass infections of a human retrovirus that differed from any known human disease, it was highly contagious and more importantly, it could ****.
analogous to hatches being
battened down
courtesy COVID-19 12+
(Pfizer only) and Flu Vaccine (65+)
October 31, 2024,
which found me convalescing
one day later with minor aches and pains
remedied with acetaminophen.

More than 1 million people died
from COVID-19 in the US
since the virus first emerged
in Wuhan, China
in December 2019.

On March 11, 2020,
the World Health Organization
characterized the outbreak as a pandemic.

Now approaching the fourth year anniversary,
the availability of effective inoculations
offers blessed intervention
to mitigate serious complications.

I (unlike the missus)
no longer don a mask,
nevertheless wash hands frequently
as a reasonable precaution
to maintain health of body,
mind and spirit triage.

While stayin' alive at sixty five,
(people passing me right and left
along the boulevard of broken dreams)
I try to be proactive
toward mental, physical,
and spiritual wellness,
whether spending leisure hours
engaged with efforts that exercise
the, body, mind, and spirit triage
abstaining from watching television
versus reading one among
a small number of magazines
or becoming engrossed
courtesy well written book.

I also try my hand
crafting a poem
linkedin to some significance
regarding particular present date
shown by the calendar
usually an event that impacted
and affected me to become
calm, cool, and collected or irate
for better or worse
my mental, physical, or spiritual state.

When emotionally, physically,
or spiritually unwell,
when nada one iota of bliss prevails
toward favorite activity
such as: kickstarting
hairbrain scheme to get rich quick
painting the town red,
underwater basket weaving
(or other idioms pejoratively used
to describe college courses
considered to be useless or absurd.

I tout resting
and becoming comfortably numb
(while listening to white noise
issuing from a fan or heater,
which whirring or humming sound
frequently nudges me
into deep sleep with nary a hitch)
if general malaise pervades
thru these lovely bones,
which actually scream out for exertion
(and no excuse exists
since getting a smart haircut

going on a couple months already,
and making cleanliness
next to the closest approximation
an atheist can attain of godliness)
cuz I knew my slovenly appearance
(a passive aggressive
silent rebel yell
against the establishment -
mainly the liberal strictures
of my father and mother)
would be a deterrent
within a social situation.
Ryan O'Leary Mar 2020
The can can became the
will will and evolved to
the did did as this mass
hypnosis of our planet is
moving to a check mate.

One can fool all of the
people all of the time
so long as you get them
to stay at home for daily
inoculations via satellite.

Covid 19 in an age of 2020
is the biggest joke of the
century it is being lapped
up like spilt milk by hungry
kittens in a back alley.

Can can you not see what
is going on here, just look at
it from the perspective of
your own country, not global,
this is a directive, a prep show.

A universal decree of which
no individual state dare differ
from the orchestrated narrative
or thus be seen by to populous
as not taking the correct steps.

I say, watch the new theatre,
all will be revealed in the program
for season 4 of the middle east
series which is just in its final
stages before being released.

— The End —