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Tana Young Sep 2018
A construed connection
The dampness of my soul
Glistening on his declared, steady skin
Repelling my dripping grasp
My slippery infection
Now, somehow
slithering to a ripe apifany
An intricate abnormality
That is me
A remodeled intellect, grasping for fresh ventilation
Panting in all the raw air
My  quivering inhales, so pathetic
Karijinbba Jul 2021
Personal REPOST - Not a poem.
~~~~~~~~~
My guardian Archangel is Ariel
known as the Goddess of nature
like I am
Ariel Archangel heals
the planet animals responsible for natural elements
Earth, wind, water, and fire.
Ariel's role as an archangel
relates to inspiration.
Aries people treat breaking up like a sport, and they do not want to lose. Aries would rather dump than be dumped, and so if tension has been building, they're likely to be the ones to initiate the split.

Since Arians want to move on faster than their exes, they're often the first to rebound, but they're rarely malicious and will self defend
as last resort!
Aries-born people are favorited
for theirfierce and independent approach to life being attracted
to their uninhibitedness
and a wild personality.
Aries-born people are attracted to the quirkiness and weirdness of
Aquarians and both get along like a house on fire!
Unlike any other zodiac sign,
Aries is more hung up on the memories they created with the ex-partners than their exes themselves
they avoid competition
For Arians, it's not at all about getting back together, but it is all about the nostalgia that ~hits them hard.~
Aries cannot stand people who try to set the tone in their life!
Aries hate ~intrusiveness.~
Do not push Aries or give them ultimatums-they alone will decide when to call and see you!
Aries are quite confident
energetic and a bit of a daredevil
it's no surprise that their biggest fear is the fear of going unnoticed
or being forgotten.
Aries poeople, Arians, want to make a mark on the world, and they like to have many accomplishments
achievements under their belt.
~~~~~
When an Aries is hurt, they will let you know with their blunt and impulsive actions.
Aries' element is fire making them naturally very passionate,
inclined towards exploration,
and a little bit scary
~when set off.~
Don't tell an Aries a greater lover roams your head
spinning your inner thighs
Your Aries will become
a puff of smoke
and be GONE

Aries born women are
fire and ice cold and hot
symultaneously
in your arms
If you are ever kissed
by an Aries
you are truly loved
cherished and adored
but only if,
if, you reciprocate fully
~~~~~~~~~
Defined by: Karijinbba
Don't betray Arians

they got powers to END you
or to bless you near or far.
if you attempted against them
everything evil is
returned to you hundred fold

you are already dead
no forgiveness granted
if you do not ask
you'll have to make amends.
if an Aries loved you
you are in luck.
W A Marshall Apr 2014
by: William A. Marshall


I stepped off the world
today,
off the broken streets
that winter has damaged
and municipal assessments
off the political gluttons
and performative marks
off the know-it-alls
and wild dogs roving around
with their ****
noses in the air
it’s not pretty
they cover what they don’t know
so that they look good
I head back down the dark hallway
to get a more primitive angle
off of privileged confidence
they are vulnerable
basic caretakers pursuing opulent corsages
to free them from their anxious quotas
and ******* rules
telling me how to wipe my ***
and how to use baby wipes
jointly acting like they run things
from their phony utilitarian bus stop
and cutting-edge applications
their personal band plays a cheerful tune
in the background
as they search for a bigger
advantage and more likes
even though we all share the same horror
youth is about mistakes
and making money
and choices with one eye here and now
the other eye on prevalent professions
students and maintenance men
bureaucratic puppets and academics
farmers and auditors
sales greasers and coaches
writers and board members
somewhere they end up there
carrying a liability
and it creates a vibration in my foxhole
but right in here baby
deep down within me
inside my tomb
I transfer to a silent
place away from
rambling rotting fungus
I step off of it
not always methodically
and then back into faults
and louse packs
I can only assume my rock
that sits in my hole immobile
next to the ****** candy wipes
unless I push it up ontic peaks
nonbeing begins to doubt me
and grips part of you so don’t
think that it doesn’t
I cut it with my knife
obliquely
finding unfortunate contagions
and courage down in the vault of silence
it is there or it isn’t
it is what keeps my will interested
far from the ones moving rashly
without it you would leap from bridges
through minefields I remember
a certain detachment
an uneven and sick progression
paperwork and a number with
a D affixed to its file
the ceiling became the nightly norm
this plastic vacuum-packed
wedding gown made of white silk
made weird noises
in the back of my closet
like it was weeping
the kind of dress
only worn once
it smelled like her that closet
retelling me each time
I opened the private door
making fake crinkling sounds
an icon of pure young tenderness
love expense and faith
eventually cooked and burned  
but it is too early
those individuals that gloat in pictures
and dream about their prince
they are busy playing with
their hair and organic shoulder bags
driving around in furnished cars
the uncorrupted ones
constant courses to come and
subsequent interviews
nailed skintight dresses
soon to be colored sweet red
with danger competing
well you had better feel lucky
because when you plunge into
future swamplands
incompetence and repayment
of what to do with it
and how then to
fill up your cup
without spilling it
all over your soul
don’t tell me how
to live my **** life
now is your time
to reason and shake imperfection
interruptions
over and over
those that listen to your intrusiveness
false performances in chic coffee shops
it is not sustainable there
but you play the part to maintain
your chair in the cooperative
you will miss it
neglecting real evil
because you were talking too much
maintaining your image
Bradbury whispers
from the counter,
“You can't make people listen
they have to come round in
their own time wondering
what happened and why
the world blew up around them
it can't last.”
and numbness above nightly cocktails
distracted dub tracks
ultimately attending
hectic personnel meetings
in drenched swamps
spinning with heartless ***** jobs
unconcerned about safe comforts
two things balance them out
people and things
all part of it out there in the world
and they approach like a train
suffering shocks
unemotional images in chambers
some actually never return
from the beatings
but this isn’t the end
this is a commencement
for me
the forecast is water-resistant
they hurry snatching their
body spray and shower gel
on mirrored reflections
that scowl back at them
all alone there
in their glass steeple
family photos
thinking they have nurtured something
more than endless gossip
and ****** strains
much more important now
bent into independence
pausing with the approaching sunrise
as it splashes powerfully
inside their speculations
pride doesn’t care
if you think you are not puffed-up
at all you are
who in the hell are you kidding?
nothing to cling to
essential oilskins and manuscripts
credit problems
and autobiographical *** packed expressions
corner office windows
and diplomas
behind high-back chairs
trying to copy Sunday magazine’s
hottest statement
to fill up their life
a reminder just who the comics are
but it does not register
until that day
when it becomes intolerably vile
beneath wreckage
and burnt ruins
they find his
caring donation
clinched in the saviors grasp
jutting through burning garrisons
there is no truth more senior
than this truth here and now
but they can’t all be imparted
in this culturally planned folklore
I see them
when I am walking away
from the insulated bubble
down the street
like recruits in boot camp
and zealously rich parents
who send their youngsters
with luggage and loans
nearby like idols
salesman explaining things
as they nod like they are approving something
perhaps autonomy
from fathers and mothers
who stand with them astutely contemplating
the whole arrangement
they stare at the marble floor
I observe the run-through
the glittery entertainment
and documented departments
for happy pilgrims
who are insulated
for now
Matt May 2015
One of the main political questions of the day is:

Is the government going to overwhelm the people
With its strength, size and intrusiveness?
Excerpt From the Hillsdale Dialogues
mike merrifield Mar 2018
What is incredible? …. This is amazing !
The only excuse , the exact nature of things refused, too do in order to nonfuel  the feud!
labyrinth insane, the only other way, repute their sane full     ways,  repute their gas- lighting sovereign!  
  Time will only tell if it gets better for whoever for worse
they say our music isn't worth **** its all derogatory, negative symbolic, rhetoric nonsense .
    well I got some thing for ya Scumbag. You obviously don't know why. But it's cool if you're gonna make some people who have a few more things that don't make sense if you don't know why but I'm not going anywhere for awhile now so you really need to talk about something you don't know .
your nothing but a whining faceless coward possessed with compulsive **** gathered from your intrusiveness disease you carry the desires of someone else's own privacy. Perverted in your own neglect of zealous riches.
Courtlyn Quay Nov 2019
There is beauty in resolved emotions.
Storms quelled and waters without motion.

There is beauty in unresolved conflict.
the matter of misunderstanding because of instinct.

I have dined on cadavers of my broken memories.
I have whined at the intrusiveness of tragedy

My dignity denied and pulverized pride has left me thirsting inside.

Left to my own design I twist and turn into an image more stern.

In turn I can feel my match stick burn
I yearn.
I burn.
But i carry myself inside of nesting dolls that falls at the sight of you.

I can only wish you feel this way too.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2023
i sometimes read the "elitist" poems and poets of
poetry-foundation-dot-org...
and i wonder...
well: there's no real distinction between
the "ancient": pre-technological-mass-reproduction
anticipatory essay of Walter Benjamin
of awe: find the Louvre and the Mona Lisa...
awe... such a tiny painting and...
awesome... entertainment value of what used
to be entertainment value of movies...
i do love the grit of 1970s cinema...
the 1980s futurist macho-"fascism"...
hell... even the 1990s had some great flicks
a great round-off of the medium...

a LAYLA BENITEZ-JAMES
translates a BEATRIZ MIRALLES DE IMPERIAL

such words are: not borrowed
or rather: in ****** it's A in Deutsche its Z...

jestem otwartą raną
języka

mówić tak nie wiele boli

-

ich bin ein offen wunde
von sprache

zu sagen so klein weh tun

-

apparently it never hurt the Chinese drunken
poet-monks to write anecdotal
syllable counted observations
concerning seeing a blue moon
with drunken-blood-shot eyes...

the Japanese or Chinese poets never complained
that they didn't have a novel in them,
quiet the reverse of this scenario...
there's the budding novel yet to be written
by a poet...
   is there?
a true meditation... a few words...
no need for a novel... an eternity of thought
mingling with everyday tasks
and then... hopefully: a spontaneity of
laughter recalling words akin to...

no kanji, no hiragana...
back to square, one: katakana...
katakana Ki - tan - ah...

   フルイケ    ヤ
     カワズ     トビコム
   ミズ    ノ      オト

no oto: the sound...
i'm guessing water is... mizu: return to
kanji: a returning from to:
   水 a word as picture...

but there's no budding novelist in here,
nor is there pain...
frog: カエル (kaeru) is not a picture-word,
it is a word-sound...

              self-explanatory "bias"...

ワタシ (watashi - i am)
      フショー     シタ      (fushoo shita - wounded tongue)
i absolve myself from entertaining
any conspiracies of entertainment
for the mass of later: distinction...

alternative route while cycling:

サイクリング (saikuringu)
    air, open mind...
wind: my soul - a silence
a lost intrusiveness of the helplessness
of others...
            クーキ
                        アイタ (aita) マインド (maindo)
カゼ (kaze, wind):
stone for heart...
               イシ (ishi, stones)
                              ココロ (kokoro, hearts)...
trickle... like sand... from desert
by time: a mountain!

        ヤマ:
                         yama - mountain...
parrot in the snow...
        オーム  (oomu)
                               ノ
                 ユキ (no... yuki)...

oh **** no... i'm not moving to Tokyo...
i don't want to speak fluent Japanese...
i just want to escape what i last saw
in the feminist panel on Vice News...
i'll ensure that Japanese is like me
in that film about the mad genius mathematician
of the film Pi... i'll put a drill to my head
prior to having to somehow:
now insure myself concerning these
blaze... arguments of "reality" of:
Plato the Plumber and the reicarnation
blocked-toilet... sort-of-speak...
i'm ******* off to Japan...
at least thinking about how the "Samurai"
encode their speaking is a relief
when listening to this Iron Maiden
of "heroic" gymnastics of post-feminism...

i feel completely... oblivious to what's happening...
just today i took a very magnificent route....
i challenged myself...
it's not spring yet... it's not summer...
i'm not allowed the later hours of the day
reserved for these seasons...
Cold-harbour dumping ground next to the Thames
was willing me to do a lap...
ah... maybe next time...

the route? from Collier Row through to Hornchurch...
then onto Upminster...
from Upminster toward Aveley...
from Aveley toward Purfleet...
well... seeing the Dartford Bridge Crossing...
no wonder i could get my geography straight...
the Thames never feels south... even though
you're orientating it from the perspective of the north...
up to Rainham...
obviously i had to venture into the little village
of Wennington... the one that was burning
only August of last year...
because... hey... it's not global warming...
a return to the ice age i reckon...
this little Arab interlude and palms will last only
so long...
my god... burned down houses...
get me a ticket to 1990s Sarajevo!
   that's how bad it looked... they're still clearing
up the mess...

from Rainham back toward Hornchurch and via Harold
Wood toward Harold Hill...
i know there's a Paris... i was a teenager in love
with Stendhal and i visited Paris solo...
i know there's a Paris but i'm starting to think:
maybe: MAYBE there is a "Paris"?
just maybe... this is London on the outskirts this isn't
London for television...

コドク (aloneness - kodoku):
        (existence with everyone)
ソンザイ    ト
           ゼンタイ            (sonzai to zentai)

nope... i'm not learning fluent Japanese...
i'm not going to travel to Japan to pay
taxes, to buy ******* sushi
and feel: a part of apart...
however boldly bad: grammatically...
i hear some ******* argument in
the western sphere... i start to scribble
katakana... i look into the scripts from India...
hell... i go as near as Greek allows...
i morph Latin with European additions
of diacritical markers...
i don't want to be constipated by an "argument":
or lineage of: ******* arguments of people
who have... zero... absolutely no...
inclinations how funny it all must be...
for someone misdiagnosed as schizophrenic
circa 2008... looking at the year 2023
almost gleefully... Beelzebub rubbing his *****
hands... the madman turned out to be...
pretty sane... given the current currency of
consensus!

    i have not invested in having children:
care to complain? me neither...
am i earning enough money to complain that my
money is going toward up-keeping
the mistakes of single-mothers? no...
i'm earning enough for a solo escapade...
i don't earn enough to be taxed!
i stopped drinking...
i can start imitating the bear in the realm
of a perpetual winter of contentment...
i can realise an ape imitating a bear:
i can exist-hibernating...
                            if i don't need to go to the cinema:
what's the point? i can...
go and see an art exhibition and wonder...
once at the paintings...
second at the old women trying to push
these young girls into my orbit as if implying:
go talk to him...
  but i'm here to admire the paintings, aren't i?!
am i here for a date?!

plus... i don't need to own a car...
i can cycle to almost anywhere in London of my own
volition and ease of exercise...
i don't need to spend money on *******
that most women would spend money on...
i have a recycling fetish...
i have little ambitions of curios adventures that
don't really require me to stress hard-pressed
constant hard-ons to compete with other men...
if i really feel like it...
i'll declare *** for recreational purposes as:
probably most boring...
given the adventures of cycling and swimming...
but if must-be-must...
hell... the brothel with me and it's all over:
proven point... in an hour's worth...

i am a truly liberated man...
thank you woman, for showing me the path...
your liberation has liberated me beyond
your wildest anticipations!
i am once and for all, truly freed from the precursors
of what freedom might have tasted like...
if not for the social-stigma of the bachelor status...

フリーダム (furiidamu - freedom)
                  ハイカイ (haikai - loitering)
スワル (suwaru, sit) -
                  ハクシュ (hakushu - extol)
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
and why is it that i adore the medium of writing,
as much as i do, and shun the prospects of
crafting a video? the non-intrusiveness
of the effort - i might be "speaking"
to a page of defeat, but at the same time i might
also be passing on the olympian torch -
and that's, what's most satisfying:
i don't like the idea
of intrusion, of ******
one self into the abodes of
others, who built up
pseudo-solipsistic membrane
of filtering what pleases
them, and what agitates them:
i think of my writing
as simply as:
    lost spare change,
the things you pick up from
the pavement:
once i picked up a 20 quid
banknote from a puddle...
lucky me...
but what is more important is
that i am bound to be "unheard"
in that,
        the reciprocated medium
of the existing text is shared
by two people,
no one is force-fed,
it's a question of choice...
when i listen to some of these
you-tube videos: i choke...
  i literally can't stomach:
not so much the content,
but the medium: the in your face
medium of rummaging in
"thought"...
      at least writing has the double
standard of:
   i drop a penny as a stranger,
another stranger picks
it up, also a stranger.
then i startle myself...
    why are all the books by english
authors mainly poetry?
i'd say within the ratio of 7/8ths...
   social commentators of today
have slothed,
   these days existentialism isn't
spoken of: as anything but a crisis...
and apparently it's all externally
agitated... you sure it isn't internally?
to me it feels like an existential
implosion, rather than
an external existential threat -
i know, i know, it's counter-intuitive...
but i own so few books by
english authors,
of course i own poetry from
the last push of americanism in literary
terms via the 1960s,
but that's about it...
         i know i can't be right,
but i'm more right half the time
when writing,
   than when i could be talking...
you are twice as right when writing:
than you are, when talking.
you can, oddly enough,
  write & think at the same time...
much harder to talk
& think at the same time...
that reflex, we haven't mastered, sorry.
i could make a video,
and join this, by now, degenerate crowd
that has: funny enough: imploded,
hello the high-school playground...
as far as i can remember,
i was slightly quiet in high school...
the biggest shout i made
was wearing a t-shirt
that read ******* is not a crime
on non-uniform day:
catholic schools have uniforms,
but 2 or 3 times a year we'd have
non-uniform days, and paid a quid
to charity...
obviously the poor kids came on the day
in their uniform...
     taste of america... ah....
plus? talking bores me,
you should hear me talking sometimes,
in my bilingual mongrel talk
(mischlingsprechen) -
  i sound like a complete '****...
rather lazy, i don't have the front-stage
rhetorical audacity, or training...
     i'm not a sophist wizard...
i don't like the limelight: i prefer a lime
dressing...
   but after listening to enough
of these videos: i find that passivity between
the person making a video,
and the person watching: slightly
gut-wrenching, horrid...
    it's the aspect of the best example
imaginable - the pigeon, dot dot dot,
   p. j. watson...
   and i conjured this, from?
  looking at my private library,
   the books in it i haven't read,
and a pair of flip-flops...
              that's all it took...
         a private library with some of the books
in it being unread, books stacked
from the floor, nearly touching the ceiling,
and? flip-flops...
                   dunno...
  i can't exactly be in your face,
the dual-effort dynamic of a piece of text
is never me: seagull papa, spoon-feeding
a seagull hatchling...
          the dynamic of choice is always
there... and, in the vein of thought:
a transcending approach to establishing
a law...
             i.e.: well, **** me, you made
the effort!
  making a video of "worthwhile"
opinions is like seeing an aeroplane...
while writing a "poem" is like
hearing an aeroplane, and saying:
should that thing, be over there?!
  (while pointing to the flight path
a good deal of miles behind the plane).
plus?
    hard to break it to you,
but in the current day & age, you can almost
play a child's game...
   you should know it, it's a classic,
us communist kids used to play it
outside the school yard... mind you:
why are all games played by english children
only bound to the schoolyard, and not
to hours outside of school, with your
neighbour's children?
      yep... writing in comparison
to making videos is a reinvention of -
    hide & seek... neat, isn't it?
oh, the numbers don't bother me...
    what comes, comes, what doesn't:
well... one less undesirable who has an
insatiable need to comment...
          plus, what i'm interested in doesn't
have the potency of mass interests,
so i'm hovering in an equilibrated medium.
Nessa Oct 2020
It’s hard to wake up and start another day without being terrified of it.
The forever feeling of uneasiness.
The thoughts, that lead you down a rabbit hole of intrusiveness.
The feeling of wanting to escape..... to find some grasp of reality.
To obtain your sanity...... whatever left you can recover.

— The End —