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MY FROG MASTERS

How thoughtful were the rainfalls
To water our gardens and flowers
The flowers spread wide garments
To celebrate their terminal beauty

The joyful frogs occupied my pond
To orchestrate their vocal prowess
They taught me to take blind leaps
Like lightning bouncing in the skies

Squatted, stretched, beeped down
I was a millstone on the pond floor
My slippery pond mates wondered
How soft I was in the maritime arts

Mortally rescued in a muddy mood
The clouds sent in rescuing showers
To confirm my firm loss to the frogs
Like a grain of salt cast into the seas


673. MONEY BAGS IN THEIR BODY BAGS

The money bags shopping for their body bags
Waggled through the makeshift supermarkets

Their ancestral homes they plotted modernity
Like the general gathering fine forces together

To the villages they made to return with pride
Like pregnant elephants caught up in the mud

Their desolate villages are deep and sickening
Glowing flamingly in the crucibles of local gins

The dusty and gravy pathways are like furnace
Burning the leather off from their frozen souls

Traditional birth attendants cut off their cords
And zipped the money bags in their body bags

674. A GLORIOUS DAY

The new day spoke powerfully
Like a war making superpower
And his voice roared forcefully
Like the skies forced to shower

The sunrays came dynamically
Like love responding to silence
Beauty crawled in submissively
Like the mixed arts and science

One eagle soared energetically
Like lions feuding in the colony
Far clouds relocated peacefully
Like souls betrayed to harmony

The breeze sighed thoughtfully
Like horses galloping on the lea
Inspiration unfolded thankfully
Crowns monuments with a pea

675.  THE FOG BANK

The sun had gone to pay our bill in the fog bank
The world foggily crawled into the strong rooms
Darkness demonstrated her strong mindfulness
Provided for the strong gale with lurking shrieks

The black paint billers snowballed to our dreams
With the bill of exchange for wild sunny excesses
Ghostly bats emerged with the bill of indictment
In demonstration of our acrophobic dispositions

We packaged the sunrays for our folk memories
To reassure the day of our eternal followerships
We cherish our follow-throughs in our dark beat
To usher the sunlight out of the hollow fog bank

676. THE PROTRACTED INTERNECINE FEUD

These things had happened before we were born
Like sulphur deep into our fresh hearts they burn
Now we stumble on the bumpy terrains in horror
Like one frightened by ghosts in a standing mirror

The internecine feud has razed our men of valour
With their carcasses dumped in their cold parlour
Our community cattle graze in the barren pasture
Like the unrepentant sinners awaiting the rapture

For our plight the once glorious sky is grown pale
Like the ***** fetching territorial waters with pail
The storms have rolled off the catalogues for rain
All our efforts to mop up the mess end up in vain



677. THE AREA LEADERS

They cracked coconuts on the heads for the crown
And embraced our days with their castaway pollen
Sadness and sorrow have dyed our garment brown
With the strongest song sung when night has fallen

These are the blinding dusts from our barn’s grains
They breed cunning serpents in the soft pasturages
They are failed cargoes on our broad societal trains
They dedicate our common committee to outrages

Now our days seek deliverance from their tentacles
Like the colourful fields immersed in gloomy beauty
They play our eyeballs with the stenciled spectacles
With our consciences to sight and found us off duty

To rescue us the colossal clouds were born gadarene
Our communal life was willed to pageants of gaieties
Then moonlight stories held us for a larger gathering
Now all the objects we sight dress up like cold deities

678. THE LAST DESCENDANTS

The rapacious thunderstorms ***** the skies for their tears
The hot embers were born to glow mourning the late forest
The moon crawled out of the blue like a great grandmother
Cuddling her descendants wrapped up in her ancient shawls

The wild waves were weird weavers weaving withering wails
The captioned wigs gyrated on stunning shoes upon auctions
The little creatures crouched in primeval baskets of the night
To gnaw at the generational tubers in the creative farmlands

The dazzling specimens of dentitions relaxed in water basins
Like bright red artistic architectures on potent ocean boards
Golden hearts glow in the threatening prisms of the furnace
As beautiful sunset defines her beauties in her nightly corset

It had been a sweet pill for the past descendants to swallow
Depending on the colonial masters for loaves, lore and lures
Our creativity had been packaged in their mortal depravities
Like the tranquil days resting sorrowfully upon the dark oars

The centenarian thunders downgraded our minute whispers
We had been kept upon our toes by the eternally sworn foes
At last our worthy artworks have worn their wormy catwalks
The refreshed dawns greet our easting days in their greenery



679. VICTIMS IN THE VALLEY

The victims in the dark rally
Caged, dried and browning
Therein their meanings tally
With waves born drowning

In the depth of a cold valley
Horrible nobles are cultures
Like pilgrims in the dark alley
Willed to ravenous vultures

The victims all robed in tears
With hearts like potter’s clay
For pains they have no fears
Only mimed games they play

For victory awaits the victims
Alien to a blind mimed game
Glorious are eternal rhythms
For death Christ died to tame

680. THE GIANT SCARS

These are our giant threatening scars
Engraved on our demonstrative heads
Our sympathies crawled on superstars
Weeping for us on their moonlit beds

They threatened us with nasal sounds
Like thunderclouds seasoned to burst
For us their galleries are out of bounds
Behind the iron bars plagued with rust

Our patience passed their wildest tests
Like the lions roaring in the thick jungle
On the heart of the Lord our faith rests
Like numbers posted on the right angle

681.  A LADY

In a lady’s handbag
Is her hidden hunchback
Stuffed with her heart ache
For the pains relieving groom

In a lady’s tender smile
Is hidden miles of similitude
Marked with the zebra crossings
For the ever winning marathoner

In a tender lady’s heart
Is hidden her cowboy’s hat
Soaring within the white clouds
To soothe the earth with the latter rains

682. BRING BACK OUR GIRLS

Bring back our homesick girls
Their vacant cradles are bleeding
Bring back our innocent girls
On the chariots of fire descending

Bring back our suckling girls
Their feeding bottles are weeping
Bring back our infant girls
Their mothers’ ******* are heavy

Bring back our harmless girls
The united universe is thundering
Bring back our dewy girls
In the sharp sun rising in the skies

Bring back our beautiful girls
Like light plucked from darkness
Bring back our glorious girls
Aboard the shore-bound waves

Bring back our worthy girls
On their fresh faces our lights seek to glow
Bring back our living girls
Our fountains of joy are bubbling to burst

For our returned girls the skies shall bear
Roaring rivers, singing seas, chiming clouds
With gongs and songs, pianos and praises
Dulcet dulcimers and documentable dances
With healthy hymns and eloquent embraces
All nations shall into a common cathedral flow

683. ****** GENEOLOGIES

They electrify their demonic high tables with old fears
Only their ****** genealogies are bookmarked to reign
The sight of their portables whetted our eyes to tears
We are reinforced by the clouds born to the later rain

Our skins have renovated the sickening cattle wagons
With our dreams flying upon huge smokes in the skies
Beneath their tables we abridge their creaking jargons
Upon their floors with our generational landmark tiles

The dew drops dropped like old crops upon our brows
To soften the veils falling to the flaming edged swords
The flaming hearted sword of the penetrating sunrays
Born to pluck us alive from our hotly bandaged bruises

684. LET US SPEAK UP

The light is climbing downstairs
And danger is sprouting abroad
Our feet are listening for a word
Let us speak up lest they go deaf

The light is melted on the glades
And terror grazing our eyelashes
Our feet are listening for a word
Let us speak up lest they go deaf

The light is late and lately buried
The mourners are on danger list
Our feet are listening for a word
Let us speak up lest they go deaf

The light has divorced the grave
Her grave clothes are dew dyed
Our feet are listening for a word
Let us speak up lest they go deaf

Silence is a forgotten tombstone
Lost in the din of cold morticians
Our feet are listening for a word
Let us speak up lest they go deaf

685.  THE SUN

The sun smiles on all prescriptively
Like the waves spreading on shores
The green grass glows descriptively
Like the full moon upon dark sores

The sun is a tailor fixing the buttons
Preparing the sky for incoming stars
Like the weaverbird weaving cottons
To conceal the day’s damnable scars

The sun is a marker on diurnal pages
Tall grace he bestows on the flowers
The sun retains his graces for all ages
Bees and butterflies are his followers

Our common laughter is endangered
When sun bows down in big setbacks
All mortals have the starlets fingered
When the night comes on drawbacks

686. UNTIL HERE

(For Lou Lenart and his team)

Their floods came seeking Jewish bloods
Like streams they roared for our dreams
They emerged as columns of soldier ants
Like whirlwinds they zoomed towards us

Until here we were crumbs for the reptiles
Until here we were like airborne cloudlets
But here the sudden change unveiled to us
From here the elusive victory embraced us

With skeletal jets we fought like bold lions
Soared like eagles and spoke like thunders
We conquered columns of invading armies
The bleeding armies turned back and blank

From here we turned from victims to victors
From here enemies’ defeat our greatest feat
Upon this memorable bridge it all happened
Victories leapt upon our pool like joyful frogs

687.  JOY UNLIMITED

The fledging sun offers its rays
And the rays offer golden trays
For our joy a platform to spray
Rowdy paratroops like thunder
To scoop roses from pure oasis

Our joy is ripe upon celebrations
Our celebrations with decorations
Decorations with documentations
Documentations for all generations
Generations in our joyful habitations

688. ANOTER RAINING DAY

The dark clouds are wandering river basins
Spiral bounded by breakable outer casings
The rivers and the seas display empty cups
For the swift blessings descending the tops

The rains come as defense troops’ missiles
And the drowning lands look like imbeciles
Now we are groaning in the watered claws
With the liberated scales marking our flaws

The retreating clouds crawl away in a belch
Dumping the missing cargoes on the beach
The winds bow in a state of shock in a cord
Praying and fasting for a visit from the Lord

689. GRANDMOTHER

Grandmother, please wake and get up
The sky is quarreling with her husband
Soon they will spill their freezing sweat
On our bodies for us to catch dead cold

Grandmother, please sneeze not louder
The sky and her husband are quarreling
Soon they will send old floods like gales
To sweep mankind away from the world

Grandmother, you are everything I have
My moon, my sun and my morning stars
Provoke not the couples with your cough
Lest they refill their greasily wraths again

Grandmother, the big reptiles have come
With their lethal grandchildren following
They are laced with secret burial shrouds
With sympathetic tears tearing their eyes

Grandmother, I kiss you a shaky goodbye
With broken pains roaring within my soul
Grandmother, where are your groundnuts
To conduct my solo heart as you sing away

690.  A NIGHT WALK THROUGH THE FOREST

Lured away on an alluring dream by fables
I trudged along the grassy paths with fears
Upon my steps spilling the prevailing dews
The shadows bowed their heads in silence
Like the soul issued with a death sentence

The night crawlers emerged above boards
Throwing light upon contrary communities
In their hearts and eyes were painful tears
Crawling down their exaggerated eye *****
Like a handbag filled with rotten cosmetics

The shadows were bold animators’ shelves
Stage managing the horror motion pictures
In the ghostly commodities I met wild hosts
Lifeworks evaporated from my fresh breath
Like foreign tragedies in common comedies

The sorrowful shadows cast away their veils
Like the candles letting go of the weird wax
Sadly I sat in the sack for conflicting fetuses
Another sun appeared like a serial divorcee
Counting the testicles of another naked day

691.  SUBJECTIVE SUBJECTS

The sad sun descended upon her haunting melodies
Reeling from mysterious layers for electoral riggings
To harden the flowerbed for flower girls born tender
Disenfranchised voters came weeping in barren polls
Dressing the blank nest for the fat electoral parodies
With the mourners the faulty bells they came ringing
Like the angry water castigating a ****** port fender
And the smokes climbed upon their wide aerial poles
Arching over the emptied shelves with liberal singing
They subjected their subjective subjects to all objects
Tom Cobbii Mar 2012
The beloved country Africana can boast of is Ghana.                                                                                                                                                               The manana of Africana black star is Ghana                                                                                                                                                                                  A nation rich in culture and natural pasture.                                                                                                                                       
Its nature reflects the creatures’ caricature

We are black reflecting our true beauty.                                                                                                                                  
And we are packed with captivating ability.                                                                                                                                       The typicality of our nationality brings unity.                                                             Who knows whether our safety lies in our variety?

This unity amidst our diversity is our reportage.                                     About twenty-four million are surviving in our age.                                                               Over sixty ethnic groups and fifty-two major languages.                                                       There are hundreds of dialects which are to our advantages.

In W/A, Ghana records the highest percentage of Christianity…                                                      Yet the modernity of our sanity portrays minds of malignity.                                                 But the fraternity of our humanity builds our community.                                                        The variety of our morality and privity builds our society

Who said Ghana cannot be capaciously superfluous?                                                        We have the very illustrious and exuberant resources.                                                                The elites and the voracity are harnessing the recourses.                                                                      The destitute remains poor and the gentry linger the forces

Our democratic government is an African paradigm.                                                        Our peaceful political regime is of no pantomime.                                      Who of course would help us measure corruption?                                                The whole nation would have tensed up to eruption.

If not the gargantuan wayomelogy of the wayometer.                                                                                      Who knows whether the next tool would be attameter?                                                     Who wouldn’t love to be a proud Ghanaian to enjoy                                                        our hilarious fila and jargons tongue can employ
manana=future of ...
wayomelogy=the study of corruption in Ghana
wayometer=instrument for measuring corruption in Ghana(a person's name made word with)
fila= new term spoken off by everybody
attameter=deduce from wayometer
Bryar Trent Feb 2011
Walking, always walking,
Puzzled youth being funneled like cattle,
Seek shelter from the sun,
Jeer and poke at each other,
All from the safety of their cell phones.

Constantly seeking that one undesired retention
Of jukebox explosion catapults.
Thrusting us deeper into the mind/brain paradox
What is this?
What are these strange mutterings in the dark?

Babysitting wasp nests by electro shock railroads,
Disgust in the face of the many.
Where is this golden eclipse we’re all waiting for?
How can I not see the spiders on my windowsill?
Are these anguished, infantile youth truly desired?

Aggravated Neanderthal men
Try to impress pulsating goddesses of Light,
All to no prevail.
Sickening feeling in the gut,
Why aren’t you here?
Well I suppose,
Things have changed.

The Empress of the tunnel
Seeks out the empire halls
Of the tunnel-bound angst,
Musicians in the hall strumming
There thoughtless musings,
While the the debutantes watch and listen.
The intensity is unbearable to them,
They must seek shelter in their ipods.

Milk, must have it.
Watching them creep through the cafe,
May they one day find what they’re seeking.
Where are they?
Sitting here by myself,
Look at them jeering at each other
In their own jargons.
Have they seeked out the pleasure of life?



Dream-like meditations,
Well-rounded views of life,
Happiness within.
Dumbly smile at each other,
Seeking closeness,
Mind/body consciousness
copyright 2010 Bryar Trent
Check it out I learn knowledge of self
To up my health now they movin' in stealth gainin' mental wealth
Cuz im long lasting tongue is blastin'
A million rhymes infectin' the mic right?
Ya loosin' sight ya thoughts going braille
Welcome to the 9th Gate of hell where I sail
On brainwaves my heart craves for the saves
Of hip hop not from Atlanta but a brave
These idiots crave in a rage cuz I'm turning the page
Back to the first scene of hip hop see how my tape pops
ears cropped mouths begin to drop from the rhymes that I
cop
Into ya corticals breakin' in to ya local articles full of arsenal minds a carrousel
Since I was an embyro I knew I  was built for
******* a punisher
Ya fallin' way under
Evil content words laid immense never consent
To plans of a Masonic establishment
broke the lease I'm hear to visually increase
My linguistic is mathematics so have at it
Stab it and I'll break the habit
No ropes around my brain absorb the pain
Once I reclaim my domain a Pharoah to a King ?
Huh? my word sharper than a Marlin philosophize like Carlin
No short bargains bump political jargons
While y'all arguing I'm upping my mind for wisdom
To grow while others thoughts still covered up in snow....
Ignatius Hosiana Feb 2016
The drums of change are sounding
the willing Hearts no longer astounding
Yes,change has taken longer than we wished
and in that gap there's so much for which we've wished
the dreams we once had and forced to kiss goodbye
the unemployed and poor loitering,
orphaned Children as they cry
Little wonder we all want to partake what change is offering
We've seen them all over the streets, the black mambas
Yet that won't deter us from turning up in numbers
I only have one vote, so do you and remember
the warmth of dawn in the night unless you light an ember
can't be felt, so play wisely with the hand you're dealt
Don't waste that vote, unless you
do trying to make our country better
You have seen with your own naked eyes
How many a mother helpless in an abandoned hospital lies
you have once or twice hit a *** hole & hurt your waist
heard promises every other term but nothing happened
Be glad a new door has finally opened
You still have the key to change, a vote you shouldn't waste
Try change, conservatism has but failed
Nothing changes, trust me if nothing changes
don't be the reason why even future generations are jailed
Don't sell your vote unless they are paying a generation
don't listen to their prattles and unclear history narration
let them not throw jargons such as enclave
and in excitement you make your country their slave
the time is now, you have one vote don't waste it
We've seen them before, the black mambas
We're not afraid anymore, we shall turn up in numbers
this is the road to a new beginning and we shall walk
enough is enough, we no longer have time for mere talk
my vote is the seed for the future shed of a palm tree
For God,for God,for God and my country
Andrea May 2016
i am a man of science—
something like that.

i was never one to put things up to faith or religion; no, i am a firm believer of all things formulated out of reason;

until you came along,

with galaxies in your eyes and star dust in your hair; (when i kiss you, i swear i see supernovas)

and who do you think you are, anyway?

to come barging in to my perfectly explained universe and re-arranging all my theorems,

to come waltzing into rooms, acutely unaware of how you send every ***** of mine in to overdrive;

dilated pupils, and an increased heartbeat, and a spike in some hormones, and a light going off somewhere in my brain— (diagnosis: love)

i despise the effect you have on me,

the churn in my stomach to have you smile at me, the thrill to hold your hand, the constant train of thoughts about you that has muddled the part of my head that can explain all this in a more scholar-ly way.

but no. all that i knew could not explain what i felt for you;

no, you had me denying newton's laws of motion— with every action there is an equal and opposite reaction— (you had me hoping my love would recieve, instead, an equal and similar reaction)

no, you were not just a lump of atoms born in to this world for the mere purpose of recreation and, inevitably, death— (to me, you are much more than a scientific construct)

no, all the chemicals boiled down in to nothingness and all the formulas were void of their values and all the terms were mere jargons that could not help me fully comprehend

why you are warmer than sunshine;
why you could take away the oxygen in my lungs faster than anything else;
why the planets seem to align in order to keep you here;
why gravity does not exist in the spaces you occupy;
why distance is my enemy;
and why i am in a love-hate relationship with the rotation of our earth (it depends on when i can see you again);

it was suddenly not just physics, or astronomy, or biology, or chemistry

when you came along.
Sid Lollan Aug 2017
disassembled                dry-milk filaments
        casket-torso;pallbearer-legs           buried
                      the lead                        
                                    ­   tombstone read: “for what it’s worth,
               well, It ain’t”
Get me out!on thenextflight       haven’t cut since cru-el April"
             her,my,this obsession with disaster           death by Mediocrity
      she tickles my deficiencies.i whisper.witness me Divine
                            Metastasizer
the police-scanner onna nozzle         so-so dance with the gentlemen;
        to the heart of                write a novel and **** yrself
...And so began the long con(sort-o-con       a schitzo origin story
                 two invert a paradigm)         ;dis assembled matter
told’em yu why worry?      -it ain’t like the films kid-
         we got Worlds to destroy via our Creation)
…move the mark, no           Who moves the soul of those machines?
        somebody [important] dead      inna car accident and
3 colors of genuwine           stratum of white jissom retchblossoms
Smelled like a bank&mug issa
       itch of **** platter-ed                  man who shoulda upped-in-smoke at 22.
                               lotus lips          chests of oceans
Wouldn’t mourn immortality yet;
          -Can wee stay here all/night?-         a platitude is a platitude is a platypus—             :POEM:UNDER:CON
                        in                     STRUCTION:       tuition is too high!
Death by mediocrity, i whisper         she licks a falsehood;
         stick it two me!           $2.37 and a pack of menthols
Stick it in me!         and twist      darling,When’s the last luna saddle
            you horsed           a bull fever-red let it fly—           disassembled constituents quiver                      grave sentiment o’er teacups of
          perishable insight                         ,dissolved dry-milk filaments
      if fear was
                the Sweat,on my back         mountains of meat o’er hills&
under choppy grecian sea          she undoes what she did
        *ties a ribbon to an elected carcass
Autopsy report:                            that junk was better in my head
         death by mediocrity   i whisper        it ain’t like the films kid,
               and it ain’t like the news said            she mechanical jaw
inspire technicalities            maintain the train rolling or you might
                see me on the outside; emerald oracle on a sideroad
selling oranges to                 the future       ain’t grease my w-h-e-e-l
        you—and; her she watches from out-of-frame
        falling, you, i she is falling in closed
system  restrain this membrane            give (me) a hand in burning
         up this joint         (we) kicked in the door to a peep show
picture death, no                  horror of inanimate ****** press’d up-against                   staint glass                the whole **** operation
a **** ruse           I’ve never been about            wake me up for
        disassembled                a Judgement Day               the next hunt the
interval be                       Please cut to the          C H A S E
                 between Want and Wanted                     the joy/cut-me in;   is a poem      to a cross-             like me,I think,therefore
                -eyed saint     my brain jargons,               but these words are deadbeat,papa where’s the cigarettes?     sure pal, Yr a leader!
                for a funeral procession         him,           androgynous boygirl
     tested the waters,drowned               disassembled for a fountain          
                 trade me that injustice for
or a Ouroburro           a Snake            a new dictionary (all in fine print)
     with the courtesy to eat itself whole;                        Cash in
while              you can. Get some sleep.
I invite you to read this piece in any direction your mind may lead you.

Thanks. Feedback is always appreciated
Haley G Sep 2015
The hallowed place lays at the heart of the labyrinth,
The capricious ebb of the tree line debilitates into darkness,
Garbled jargons upon the walls and fallacious passageways, can only lead you to one conclusion,
At the end of the banal road, magnanimous yet illicit prizes are sought after,
Over and over again,
Until the walls abate and break and the prizes are no more,
We wait at the hallowed place and take what is rightfully ours
Manisha Uniyal Oct 2015
Classic Poet -- aesthetic beauty of thy shall pass
withered and collapsed over the time
thou shall not remain ever as divine
must leave your crown and be mine

Girl-- I would have been your's
in love , would have touched stars
long had I been searching for a clue failed, as I couldn't get you at all

Classic Poet--golden thy face glows in heart
piercing eyes, like bleaking thunder in sky
don't thy ignore,the volcano inside
thou might repent later and cry

Girl--did something hit you
or you were always like this
bombarding jargons on me
I'll run like a horse away from you and shall always remain free





Manisha
This is a light hearted poem. And I really love the classic upstreet poetry..
epictails Nov 2015
My head is knots on knots
No cheeky red faced scout
Oaths to untangle
Except perhaps
people crazier than I

Sullen as a brick on the wall
Imposed as a figurine doll
The ant-like people
Look on and leave
As if I was a bad show,
Their awareness too
untamed for
my script.

Not Scarlett O' Hara
With lovers on a row
No, no, no mister
I am an antiheroine
Waiting to happen
The world is my stage
Unlike Hamlet certain that
I am going
to be.
 
My wings have
Fallen flat on the
road like gravel
But I make feathers
From leaves people
Leave behind
And sew them
Like stitches in
My spine.

No.
I am not the person
You read in books
with jargons sprawled
Like fancy words only
money could buy.

I am stuck in the walls
Everyone stares when
They get too stuck
With pain and alcohol
Dreamt like hallucinations
Refused like a cul-de-sac

Do not play me
Like a ragged doll
Of your forgotten child
Or a roadside blossom
plucked in fickleness
For I have become
This and that.
This and that.
Over and over
The pawn and
The king
All at once.
Jowlough Dec 2017
Black stars on white, thumb and index on lips
rolling with your sports yoyo and red lipstick.
all your visible veins are non-passive,
as I view from your thick lenses behind retrospective.

That filthy container where you're sipping liquid
rebellious crown you're sporting is quite cursive.
hideous mask can't contain your heavy hormones,
when I caught you peeking on the corner wear-ons.

From the corner spot, I can't think of any jargons,
Of words nor dragons I could use, money or mansions
I'm just a steady monkey of potential and future,
Eagled eye but not haunting or never sure.
POV
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2019
like any ancient "text":
abbreviations not handy...
i.e.
   (except that
sort, kind, genus):
if not on loan then...
                "handy"...
   lying about like ruins
of the stipend of
architectural t'inking...
***** gonna
groove speed'oh
or am i to chequer
those goggles
via a... "google"?
   now i know oogling:
but 'now no ogle...
the omega franchiße...
your plot of:
"sorting this of
******* out":
strobe?
sure: epileptic la la
angeles...
         like any ancient
"text":
shame, real shame...
given that i:
am using the, same,
*******,
phonetic, encoding,
as: what cannot
replicate the screams
of Pompeii!
****!
like: "back" to the future
with "no" past...

what's the difference
between
latinaporcus (pig latin:
pospolite:
jeno-glite...
            wzajem: tzn.
t. wszystko: razem)
   and latinarubico?

scholasticism
doesn't exist on the street
even if the street is
an internet page...
schooled
in: rev. up the
mo-ped Essex boy:
orange man
is, as bad if
you only knew what
orange was
without a prior
to lecture about
Louis XIV,
Vill schksch'tzzz
von H'orange...
and... a tanning
salon in Romford...

can't we...
somehow... like...
make surds
more indicative
in this language?

like:

     'nome: for gnome...
  'nosis: for gnosis...
       wet *****
of a tongue whenever
Rhu'ha'n'ah's tongue
disturbia comes on:
Bahamas' variety
of bongo bongo...

            surds!

             'now... ah!
ha!
        lookie lookie:
Luke the Lucky fluke...
'now...
  that's a tricky surd...
that "missing" K...

can't blame herrinspektor clueso
or the
    the kkk took my baby away
band either...

now could never
become 'know...
look... a: UFO... that, yes:        '
  indicator of a letter
being: "missing"...

           nau-   wooo wooo wooo
casper caught a keeper...

              and the greek?
tau...
ergo?

                  to 'now (snort)
and no awe with
an: exfoliating ah...
                      akin to "now"...

but to 'ork is no slice
of pork in what
was once Cockney...
that became 'ackney (H)...

that came:
  a while away from
the worth of a
   white 'night's
   strut into...
               scalps sold
hanging off camel humps
like chandeliers:
and yes:
the rotating bonanza
like, some...
    
      yes... yes... carousel...
disco rubic cube jargons
of esoteric epileptic
      dance-offs
   bragging
   **** contra *****
satiating sizes
versus the dervishes
       of Istambul...

kwald ah numb'd
toon'g ah too'r n'ah dough...

called a numbed
             tongue a tornado!

yes, yes: said the psychiatrist:
i too thought that
oysters could compete
in the olympic tradition
of performing the belly to
a fosbury's flop
worth of:
            ...and that street
cat... "just"... curdled "itself"
into my welcoming
arms...
i became an armchair...
and it became
a Siberian shawl...
very much a Moscovian
day-to-day photo-opportunity...

ancient texts:
modern bogus...
ancient latin "sort of"
deviates from excruciating
the reader with
any pronoun usage...
conjunctions are
used sparingly...
namely the logic of
mirror tautology,
or: mirror ad infinituum...

forget about
prepositions as such...
whatever grammar was, was,
current grammar?
too volatile...
eat a parsnip:
**** out a whiff of
absinthe
   in the variety of
having ingested:
fennel root...
   savvy?

now NOT 'now!
now NOT 'now!
now NOT 'now!


   no one's going to shout
that sort of pedantic
observation, any time, soon...

           ooh... hollowed out
omicron... not an elongated
omicron in the form
of an omega...

    ooh...
write me the phonetic
transcript... pretty please!

nau 'not no'!....

   ooh! pretty pretty!
KV Srikanth Mar 2021
Tool to talk
Convey and Stop
Tone tells the emotion
Words mirror Class

Speak your heart
Censor the part
That will drive you apart
Because of your talk

Words spoken
Forever remain
Kind and compassionate
You win over hearts

Out of fear
Talking order
What the other
Wants to hear
Fakeness of thought
Others easily tell apart

Socially decent
Self made commitment
Worthy aim to pursue
Words give the Preview

Tone of Speech
Modulated to reach
Message conveyed
Loud and Clear

Only when asked
Arising out of need
Fulfilling a deed
Required to speak

Talk Slow
Talk Low
Dont say much
A sense of style
Sets apart by a mile

Loud and clear
Not to adhere
Soft and friendly
Already won
People over
Single handedly

Ability to convey
Clarity what to say
Goes a long way
Words at play

Anger dominating thoughts
Control over words lost
Think twice before you speak
Or put the other I'll at ease

Harsh and blunt
Liked by none
Words from lexicon
Quality decided upon

Profanity espouses mediocrity
Sans signals simplicity
Used before women
Embarrassing situation
Severe Association

Indicates character
Others remember
Reveals nature
Judged forever

Soft spoken
Words chosen
Any situation
Gentleman with acumen
Hard earned reputation

Spewing venom
Rude and impolite
Quality of upbringing
Reflects on family
Relationships ending
Even before starting
Jargons hostile
Efforts futile

Visiting card
Given In advance
Anatomy of personality
Percieved immediately
Stamped permanently
Decided correctly
Place in Society
Choice of Vocabulary
Wise choose wisely

— The End —