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Jenny Gordon May 2019
If only, if only...



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMLXXXIII)


Read Jeremiah twelve, and lo, in pale
Excuse how William Drummond's lines come thence
Unto the 'fore with that old question dense
Wi' import we've asked oer and oer to scale:
"...Is THIS how all goes?  Is it thus?!"  Detail
Jist what the Scriptures beg an answer hence
To, and, oh me! is that auld query's sense
Of wrong the reason we do not find bail?
Thou dost not seem to tell Thy prophet fer
All that a wherefore, jist as lo, unto
Thy servent Job, um, rather how as twere
We aught to be.  Why don't we follow to
Effect?  Why am I here?  Have I in tour
'Non turned aside as if such things would do?

23May19a
To think at dinner he discussed it with me, the upshot of it being not so much an answer per se, as the point that we're to be conformed to His image.
Says I to my Missis: "Ba goom, lass! you've something I see, on your mind."
Says she: "You are right, Sam, I've something. It 'appens it's on me be'ind.
A Boil as 'ud make Job jealous. It 'urts me no end when I sit."
Says I: "Go to 'ospittel, Missis. They might 'ave to coot it a bit."
Says she: "I just 'ate to be showin' the part of me person it's at."
Says I: "Don't be fussy; them doctors see sights more 'orrid than that."

So Misses goes off togged up tasty, and there at the 'ospittel door
They tells 'er to see the 'ouse Doctor, 'oose office is Room Thirty-four.
So she 'unts up and down till she finds it, and knocks and a voice says: "Come in,"
And there is a 'andsome young feller, in white from 'is 'eels to 'is chin.
"I've got a big boil," says my Missis. "It 'urts me for fair when I sit,
And Sam (that's me 'usband) 'as asked me to ask you to coot it a bit."
Then blushin' she plucks up her courage, and bravely she shows 'im the place,
And 'e gives it a proper inspection, wi' a 'eap o' surprise on 'is face.
Then 'e says wi' an accent o' Scotland: "Whit ye hae is a bile, Ah can feel,
But ye'd better consult the heid Dockter; they caw him Professor O'Niel.
He's special for biles and carbuncles. Ye'll find him in Room Sixty-three.
No charge, Ma'am. It's been a rare pleasure. Jist tell him ye're comin' from me."

So Misses she thanks 'im politely, and 'unts up and down as before,
Till she comes to a big 'andsome room with "Professor O'Neil" on the door.
Then once more she plucks up her courage, and knocks, and a voice says: "All right."
So she enters, and sees a fat feller wi' whiskers, all togged up in white.
"I've got a big boil," says my Missis, "and if ye will kindly permit,
I'd like for to 'ave you inspect it; it 'urts me like all when I sit."
So blushin' as red as a beet-root she 'astens to show 'im the spot,
And 'e says wi' a look o' amazement: "Sure, Ma'am, it must hurt ye a lot."
Then 'e puts on 'is specs to regard it, and finally says wi' a frown:
"I'll bet it's as sore as the divvle, especially whin ye sit down.
I think it's a case for the Surgeon; ye'd better consult Doctor Hoyle.
I've no hisitation in sayin' yer boil is a hill of a boil."

So Misses she thanks 'im for sayin' her boil is a hill of a boil,
And 'unts all around till she comes on a door that is marked: "Doctor Hoyle."
But by now she 'as fair got the wind up, and trembles in every limb;
But she thinks: "After all, 'e's a Doctor. Ah moosn't be bashful wi' 'im."
She's made o' good stuff is the Missis, so she knocks and a voice says: "Oos there?"
"It's me," says ma Bessie, an' enters a room which is spacious and bare.
And a wise-lookin' old feller greets 'er, and 'e too is togged up in white.
"It's the room where they coot ye," thinks Bessie; and shakes like a jelly wi' fright.
"Ah got a big boil," begins Missis, "and if ye are sure you don't mind,
I'd like ye to see it a moment. It 'urts me, because it's be'ind."
So thinkin' she'd best get it over, she 'astens to show 'im the place,
And 'e stares at 'er kindo surprised like, an' gets very red in the face.
But 'e looks at it most conscientious, from every angle of view,
Then 'e says wi' a shrug o' 'is shoulders: "Pore Lydy, I'm sorry for you.
It wants to be cut, but you should 'ave a medical bloke to do that.
Sye, why don't yer go to the 'orsespittel, where all the Doctors is at?
Ye see, Ma'am, this part o' the buildin' is closed on account o' repairs;
Us fellers is only the pynters, a-pyntin' the 'alls and the stairs."
N E Waters May 2013
III
Any word never so softly spoken
never words ever so stately joking . . .
hopeless without dope
the whole world tokes--
just don't choke
and swallow smoke so toxic.

I've had it with this rock ****,
wanting women to go *******.
knock THIS with fists clenched to bliss
never was there ever so sinister a kiss.
don't miss this chance to be missed for misters miss's listless jist of this.


sound is forever
ever heard of white noise
its the sound of people fighting across the world forever ever for letters between a girl and a boy.
are you sure?
do you really want this?
can you bomb it, not drop it
to **** meaningless fetuses?
why are you reading this?
you can't beat this.
Eat this slowly trying to depleat this.
guess what?


everhing you've been reading is meaningless.
Not a human creature stirred, nor seen
through out Highland Manor,
     property carpeted in lush green
(a deathlike stillness descended un keen
hilly quiet, October 10th,
     deux thousand eighteen).

Vicious rumors circulate wrenching
     hammering, and drilling psyche
     where mailer demons invade,
that immediate hell fire enfilade
natural hair color made
gray follicular shocks amply pervade
     instantaneously turning
     Janus faced with Machiavellian

     mean streak inlaid
     (how word some would say)
     "stern", any previous
     housewarming aura
     experiencing welcome spiel,
     nor iota of politesse present,
     but Trumpeting her entourage,
     asper self important capering escapade

     taskmaster known to abrade
even the most stalwart macho,
     gung-**, brave appear afraid,
     thus oft time tis most
     advantageous and optimal
     prospective mutineers betrayed
Princess Jan Ger
     harridan de jure ushering tirade

     akin to a petite mal one
     woman banshee masquerade
hoop puts on be preyed
upon switching pretentious airs
     dead ringer give
     away (immediately
     points gnarled finger
     sentenced to clinker visage),

     non verbal charade
hence unstoppable mounting
     anticipatory anxiety manifests
     as disabling, impending,
     oppressing fate
     cannot be delayed
if insubordinate tenants
     try with futility to evade

officials with truncheons flayed
doth rarely give surcease
     renters passing grade
she, the consummate
     de facto grande heiress
     of Gr*e & Que
inherited plum deal,
     where lifetime employment,

     and generously paid
analogous as born
     (that way) portrayed
     maintaining poker face
     into royalty made,
now as single mother
     to biracial heir
purportedly inhabits castle

     abode with parents,
     thus no child
     care costs paid
expectant heavy foot
     falls getting louder,
(oh...no that jist
     my heart pounding
     whence approaching raid

so please inform this jade
did troubadour if privy to let
     (me and the missus) aid
i.e. a safe and sound
     place to call home
     with this hole in the wall
     I would immediately
     make thee a fair trade

in lieu of living, where
     mercilessness doth parade
     expenses property upkeep,
     teaching (two
     door ring) English,
     or even employed
     as a mister minute maid.
Alan McClure Dec 2016
Whoa.

See that yin?
Jist sittin there?
Ye ken how she’s sittin like that, don’t ye?
Well, whit’s she sittin oan?
Aye, her erse.
She’s only sittin like that
So ye ken she’s got an erse.
Gaggin fir it.

An whoa, check that yin!
Wearin claes!
Filthy cow!
Whit dae ye mean, “Whit dae ah mean”?
Claes!
Ye canny wear claes
If ye huvny got a boady, can ye?
That’s right –
Just screamin it, so she is –
“Check oot ma boady!”

Aye, ah wull an aw!
Don’t mind if ah dae!

Aw, mate – that yin!
That yin ower there!
Bendin her airm!
See her?
Bendin her airm like a mucky ****!
That’s so ye ken
She’s got elbows!
Phwoar, I ken your type hen –
you wi yir elbows an a’thin!
Desperate fur it, aren’t ye?

An man!  This yin,
walkin towards us!
Breathin in an oot!
Whit a slapper!
Breathin in an oot!
Aye, ye need a pair o lungs tae dae that,
I bet, eh, hen?
A pair o fine, functioning lungs!
Aye, you use them, doll –
dinny you be shy!
Ah’m no!

Aw pal, haud me back!
This yin!
This yin eatin a meat pie!
Shameless wee ****!
Aw yeah, baby,
I ken whit that means!
Mean’s ye’ve got yirsel
a **** wee digestive tract in there, no?
Ye dinny hae tae spell it oot tae me, love!
Probably got a pair o kidneys
tucked away in there too,
ye ***** wee *****!

Aw the same, ur they no?
Aw ae thum.
Gantin oan it.
Kenneth Gray Oct 2020
No ****** or dawdling just for fun
Gotta be the best gotta be #1
I scrutinize every detail
Until I am done
If I am not perfect I turn face and run

Its just a day in the life of a perfectionist
I could go on and on and make a long list, but I'm hopeful already that you all get the jist

I'd love to sit down and draw some cool art
But if every line wasn't perfect I'd crumple it up or tear it apart
However, I know that I'm talented and sharp as a dart
But my ideals are too critical and not very smart
However, this is my reality. So I hardly can start
Eh, Scratch all that - I guess I need to restart

Its all in a day of a perfectionist
I've reversed on my promise and made you a list
I'm second guessing myself that you're getting the jist

I'd love to sit down and write a poem or two
But it's impossible to write perfection though - we all know this to be true
That fact on its own is bringing me down and making me blue
Its making me sick like I'm getting the flu
How can I ever release this poem? What will I do?
Ugh! I've gotta scratch this again and come up with something that's new!

Don't you see? This is the life of a perfectionist
I've given examples and made a small list
But I'm confident now that you all get the jist

Of just what's its like being a perfectionist.

Hold up! There is one more thing I'd like to say
I beat myself up every night, every day
And although I fall short, I pray and I pray
That this wicked perfectionism will not stay
That one day I'll be content with myself and that it'll stay that way.
Now I'd like to wrap this all up - if I may

Well, I guess thats just the way it is
In a day of the life of a perfectionist
You've heard my reasoning and you've witnessed my list
So I can certainly say that you all get the jist

Of exactly what its like being a perfectionist
I came up with the theme of perfectionism and decided to write it out and explain my experiences with it. Not much more to it than that.
witchy woman Dec 2013
My songs can make you cry
Take you by surprise at the same time
Can make you dry your eyes with the same rhyme
Now what your seeing is a genius at work
Which to me isn't work
So its easy to misinterpret it at first
Cause when I speak its tongue and cheek
I'd yank my ******* teeth
Before I'd ever bite my tongue
I'd slice my gums!
Get struck by ******* lightning twice at once!
And die and come back as Vanilla Ice's son
And walk around the rest of my life
Spit on, and kicked and hit with ****
Every time I sung
Like R. Kelly as soon as Bump & Grind comes on
More pain inside of my brain
Than the eyes of a little girl
Inside of a plane
Aimed at the world trade
Standing on Ronnie's grave
Screaming at the sky
Till clouds gather,
It's Clyde Mathers and Bonnie Jade
And that's pretty much the jist of it
Parents are ****** but the kids love it
Nine millimetre heaters stashed with two-seaters with meat cleavers
I don't blame you I wouldn't let Hailie listen to me neither
All credit to Marshall Mathers (Eminem), my music taste varies quite drastically, I have loved this song since I was 11 years old
Jenny Gordon Sep 2018
Italeau...Fiamma--my brother wishes likewise that they'd fit.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDX)


Boots.  Suede, Italian, and too small fr'intents,
My toes half bruised from jist one two-hour's scale
As twere of wearing, and lo, for the sale
Which netted me this lux'ry I've naught hence
Save yearning for that glor'ous pair which thence
Must be returned, prayrs for a pair t'avail
Me like these should have, with none in a frail
Excuse 'cept made-in-China boots' defense.
I only text YOU 'bout the size as t'were,
Nor know what YOUR opinion is, if YOU
Care two bits whether I've this pair in tour
Or that, just that Italian boots anew
"Run small."  And um, "I wear size ten." But's poor,
Cuz I must foot the bill, with pennies too.

25Sep18b
Ask me 6 months from now IF I ever got a pair in MY size....prolly will need by that time to pay full price, and $550 or $600 looks---a tad steep, shall we say?  Oh well.  IF I am allowed to have them, I hear they're "...worth every penny!"
Nigel Finn Dec 2016
I may be slightly merry
Or even pretty ******
You might even say I'm wellied
(I'm sure you get the jist!)
And I may now talk like thish-ish
And be completely off my ****
But I'll wish you a  merry Christmas
Because I love you guys to bits.
little Oct 2018
Hero in our textbook
Hide me from the next fix

It's too late
Look away

Subliminal crook
You get the jist

Chapter nine or rehab

Family and a daughter
I cry
It doesn't bother

What am I?  
A monster?

Maybe

I wait
A **** star?
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
cliche. click
I'm lost without you

you glanced my way and said,
"how do you know?"

I don't.
I won't.
I can't.

You glance away and say,
"maybe so."

Life's the test.
----
stand alone or be rejected
objected
the subject of the action word
conjecturing the meaning

Hector's pride brought the mass.
Was that made sacred? Yechhh.

Higgs's made real,  massive change
end of the world
as we knew it, 2012, mass means more than x-mas

The message in the messenger from Greece's God,
"Hold fast, hold on, Hector, be
hold-- what a drag"

Achilles, shoulda had anger management.

Suppose, Achilles's momma had trusted
whatever the protection was to be,
divine, that kind o' dad,
it warn't gonna let 'im drown.

She coulda just tossed 'im in,
sink or swim, knowing, in her inner parts,
the protector's promise,
memorized, since the red tent.

Pandora's last hope trumps fire,
and flood,

Wee Achilles woulda squirmed, and swam,
invincible, every inch soaked,

it could been, but, you know,
Achilles's momma could not let go.

And the rest is mythtery.

---
the sign said follow the money,

but money is invisible, so I played like
I could see what other folk
saw.

Lot o'them took time to tell me,
"Only believe", or "trust, and obey".
Streets of gold,
we'll slide back
down on silk stockings
hung on spider thread

above the flames

that boil the kettle in the center of
the whole round world,

nobody in our family ever once
believed the world is flat,

nor that Jesus once was blue and had four arms,

stop me.
I was wrong, I, myself, can imagine
Jesus dressed as Rama,
who was blue and had four busy arms, in truth.

hallowed ev'ening of the light,
settling sun, lead in the night, when all
see monsters, every where,

no one will notice me. Watch and see.

OH OH, ****** me by my pigtail, lift me to the third
floor, two stories past tellestial,
kingdom come,
which the mormon at my door testified
the angelic ***** had told Brigham 'n'em,

in the spirit, he agreed, not face to face.

tellestial is as close to hell as a Mormon man can go,
and,
he said, "If you could see it, you'd die to go.
It's so much better than this."

Joe Smith, said that, according to his agent.

I pondered,
chewed a cud, as I could recall, holy cows do.

I leaned back, put one boot to rest,
on the bricks behind my knee,

A modified Crane pose, I suppose.
I folded my arms and stared that boy
right in the eye.

I said, "Wanna try?"
"We gotta bridge up the road a piece,
sure as haell,
we'll see if it's a lie, at least."

Then I repented.
That hell imagined by Joe and all them zionic-messengers,
they was guesses, at the best. But the feelers at my door,
they was bein' tempted
to put their own faith to the test.

I grow bolder. The experiment worked.
I know.
Same ol' story...

-She said it tasted,
okeh,
first time that word was ever heard or tasted.

Cool,
****, cold, evil, winter, summer, sweat, mosquitos, evil cold,
I'm sorry!

How do you know?
What's blame?
Oh, that, and shame, I know that,

epi genetically be guile-ish. gullibility
gone in one bite.

Taste and see, he saw her say, or thought
he did

Like a switch, with more capacitance,
than the cells of knowing can resist,
in the first few months of being matter in time.

Knock a fella in the head
with knowing all the hows of evil,
along with all the why of not,

the most beautiful woman in the world,
no contest,
naked, and he knows.

Thinkin' straight ain't in the plan.
Precedent set forever,
no plan survives first sight of a naked woman after learning what naked means,

according to the tutor in blame,
who sat glumly on Adam's shoulder
explaining as the jist
of the story unrolls, "naked is evil,
you are naked", no word, just
thinkin'

good luck if yer helpin' him stand,
Wham

spoken words heard and
obey essence initial instantiation
revere
lionize,

oops, Idols. The idea of idols. Don't imagine anything like that.

Gabriel came with that very message all over his face.

Knowin' evil and doin' it, not the same.
Learn to drive and do the math,

Then we talk about artifice beyond the ken of mortal minds,
not worry,
it is written, We have the mind of Christ,

but as an augmentation really,
we can fact check,
but, honest,
a heretic has to use any augmentations right,
or the being powers will

objectify his reason for being, and reject him, for

the sin of defining the happiness he ensues.

You with me?
----
This was to be my comment,
but it called out for search engine priority of purpose

Nothin', I was thinkin' --
we never get trick or treaters,
tho' an occasional Mormon team will try to climb my hill,
then I un cussed my thoughts
with my inner self and we agreed.
He who would catch fish,
must venture his bait.
Net criticism's needed, if anything is to get better than this.
Wise ones say, it ain't easy,
but true rest,
I can testify, it's found along the way.

Hallowed be your even-ing, level up,

trick or treat?
not on that old man's hill,
somethin' weird, too peaceful there.
Nothin', I was thinkin' -- we never get trick or treaters, tho' an occasional Mormon team will try to climb my hill,then I un cussed my thoughts with my inner self and we agreed. He who would catch fish, must venture his bait. Net criticism needed, if anything is to get better than this.
Terry Collett May 2015
I walk across
to Hannah's flat
in Arrol House
and knock at the door

Mrs Scott opens
the door and stands there
she's a short thin woman
with a face of granite
with a slit
where her mouth is

whit is it?
she says
her Scottish accent
rough as stone

is Hannah home?
I ask

I dunnae kinn
she replies
HANNAH
she bellows
over her shoulder
Benedcit is haur fur ye
she adds
scowling at me

jist coming
Hannah replies
from back in the flat

yoo'll hae tae bide
Mrs Scott says

and walks back inside
leaving me
on the red tiled step

I look into the interior
of the flat
and smell breakfast
having been cooked

I look back
into the Square
kids are playing
near by
on the pram sheds
and over by the wall
girls are doing handstands
their feet
against the wall
dresses falling
over their heads
showing underwear

sorry about Mum
she has a mouth on her
Hannah says
where we going?
she asks

thought we'd go
to the South Bank
see the Thames and boats
and have ice cream
I say

do I need money?
she asks

just about 2/-
I say
for bus fares
and ice cream

I'll ask Mum
for a handout
but wait for the answer

Mum have you 2/-
I can have?
Hannah asks

fa dae ye hink
Ah am Rockerfeller?
nae Ah huvnae
her mother replies

no problem
I say to Hannah
I'll have enough
for us both

are you sure?

yes don't aggravate
your mother more
than you have to

so Hannah gets her coat
and we walk off
through the Square

she's like that sometimes
Hannah says
she's as tight
as a wing nut

we walk down the *****
and up Meadow Row

I ask her how her father is

she says
he's Ok but in
the doghouse more often
as not with Mum
but he's a softy
to Mum's hardness
but Mum says
he's soft in the heed
but he's lovely really
Hannah says

-I know her old man
he's English and a bit
simple after helping
to empty out Belsen camp
in 1945 where some
he told me were
more dead as alive-

we wait at the bus stop
she with her dark hair
pony tailed
with a tartan skirt
and white blouse
and me in blue jeans
and white shirt
and quiff of brown hair
and hazel eyes

she with a budding beauty
with her mother's
touch of tongue
who if roused
could give words
full lung.
A BOY AND GIRL IN LONDON IN 1960
you
n i perceive reality in our own view
too
how the world a skew

and each rue
while mind each "p" n "q"
of societal mores mebbe at a pew
or in a car brand new

that purrs like a "meow"
or even on the loo
'bout a lover ye knew
thinking of gentile or jew

now tis that does hew
a friendship that mite grew
cuz quality gals so far n few
like finding a miniature red
   white striped emu
like eeyore - feel in ivy blue.
---------------------------------------

sorry for all dis bather
   me lass of an heart felt ace
& hope no words o mine base
so lemme cut to the Chevy driven chase

to relish c ying ur face
yi yi yippee - thy grace
****** desires to gather
   at what e'er pace

cuz dis haint no race
for us to trace
an arc &
   compete with lovers
   that for e'er frieze on grecian vase.
---------------------------------------

which day
whether sunny or gray
as high r low clouds lay
like pair a moors

   or nags in may
would be okay
to...play
oye vay
and enjoy
   hot ravenous ja way?
---------------------------------------

this chap aint no a rod
   knee nor danger
concocting a fiction
   be yin born in a manger
neither does he don
   role of ranger
thou veritable stranger

THOUGH A VERITABLE UNKNOWN GAL 2 ME
NONETHELESS, I MUST BE GOING STIR CRAZY FOR YOU! ™

---------------------------------------

hi yam hankering Asian urge gent wuss
celibate lee  married, a zealous adult tour us
desires to tuss
sill with a female,
   no not necessarily
   her coiled n kinked

   hair to muss
nor special outfit to fuss
i try not to ******* cuss
nor cause no trouble
   if aboard the digital bus.
---------------------------------------
PLEASE be patient with him. In due time, his ability to calm down and control the erectile fusillade will chime with YOUR ******.

HE well deserves to end this celibate state and get requisite COMEUPPANCE!
---------------------------------------
Hello Sin Come on In!

I thoroughly enjoy plying (like a baker kneading dough) these slender and smallish fingers at the juncture of neck and shoulders. As many cumulative kinks would be ironed out. Muscles and tendons on either side of the spine (from stem to stern) privy to tender loving care. Special emphasis would be given to any particularly sore area. Perhaps an especially noticeable ache exists along the upper or lower back? Just the appropriate amount of (gentle) pressure - from the heal of one hand or the other - called into action.

Might forearms or biceps be in sore need of massage? Gluteus Maximus saddle sore? How about thighs? Any other parts of your anatomy require skin nourishment? This willingness to manipulate knotty points of tension offered for passionate physical *******. Game? No need to think this hum bull guy wood MONOPOLIZE you NOR doth ye need to feel SORRY if nada one iota of interest exists!
---------------------------------------
unsure...
  
what this free thinker
   who lives ~10 miles north east
   of valley forge, penna ought to write
also not knowing
   if rambling comes a
   cross as trite

maybe filled with angry under
   panting tones awash
   with spittle and spite
veering considerably
   left of political right

which liberal democratic
   leanings correct quite
   an attempt to come across
   as mature and polite

hoping to induce interest
   to get together
   some day or night
discussing topics
   profound or light

or...letting sexually intimate
   fantasies (of mine)
   take supersonic flight
restoring darkened psyche
   with high octane
   self generated energy bright.

only one finger
used to hen peck
and types this
four tee billionth acre

doth, dis dude
real soon will take a break
eat sum petrified cake
like an ancient yodel,
ring ding or drake

interestingly enough
can cure any earache
with nary an edible flake
mebbe jump in a

poker face booked - mud flat lake
steal away imagining to make
out with you,
a moist meaty milky shake.

i yam ma nada trip pin
jist over dose sin
n wanna marry gin.

star-date = 9999 anno domino;
time = 1700: 39:_ pm

u r a be u tee
only in imaginary will i see
u re joy sing -
for me
as glee
from one male sassy thee
sets passions free.

like one pac man on a roll
   bell ringing canon,
   fast moving caboose
or mad as hell
   headless goose

this josh hing drake
   haint butta loose
goose
whereby moose

uh d utter creatures
   tink i lack mental juice
i.e. ja dat - right duh gray matter
   of dis knit wit,

   the "infamous" deduce
cob bulled with
   whirled wide web
   peppered with rotten cous cous
& find my rye ting
   an absolute nuisance
ready to call doktor Zeus.
Richie Vincent Mar 2017
Rally the horses,
Tally the corpses,
Go manic and shoot off your body like it's a gun,
The walls bleeding bright red, dripping into puddles on the bed,
I always tell myself that I wasted so much time, but time is irrelevant when everything feels dead,
60 seconds 60 minutes 60 ****** knives, we both lead such ****** ****** lives

And she said I know it's hard but this will get better
This will get better

I remember when you told me you were going to set the whole ******* world on fire, what happened?
I remember when you stopped and regretted it and I remember holding onto all of it as much as I could because I knew you couldn't handle any of it, not anymore

Go supernova and leave them all in your wake,
A no good do gooder drunk through the relapse with broken teeth,
You were always here but it never seemed like you were enjoying even a minute,
Emotional asphyxiation is such a heavenly way to die but you're the apple of my eye and as much as I don't want to,
I need to say it

And she said I know it's hard but this will get better
This will get better

I never stopped to ask you how you were feeling because every time I stopped you just told me to keep going and I'm
done with it,
You get the jist,
Tried eating and I just get sick,
Tried sleeping but the bad dreams never end,
Sipping yellow paint, filled with yellow haze,
In a craze I'm in a maze and my head won't rest,
Hate being happy, being sad is the ******* best,
I'm sorry

Broken poet, baptized and drenched in Sisyphus,
Beaten ****** pessimist,
I wanna fight it but I'm too much of a pacifist,
Brittle even with vitamins,
I never knew disaster could look like this,
I digress, I'm ****** twisted and you all can't get enough of it,
Keep em comin 'til I drown in my own spit,
The way you're talking makes you sound like a ****** lunatic but ******* I can't seem to get enough of it

I need you,
I shouldn't say this but I need to

Toxicity's filling my veins and the numbness is clogging my arteries,
You can't swim well in a dead sea

I tried to fight through the fog of your feelings but it was too dense to see, anything,
I never knew you had such a lust for blood until I saw the fangs,
Inside of us are such broken pretty things

You were such a broken pretty thing and I need you,
I said it, I ****** need you

It's been soaking for a while now and I think it's best it finally bled through,
I'm finally realizing you were right when you said it was for the best that we were

through

I shouldn't have said this, but I needed to
Alan McClure Mar 2016
So aye
We wir watchin
that David Attenborough
or tryin tae -
fower weans tearin up the joint,
an she's like,
See if youse dinny shut it...!
an aw that, ken -
You no gonny tell thum?
So ah'm like,
"Aye.  
Wheesht, youse."

But it wis amazin, like.
These fish.
Years oot at sea.
Tiny wee at first,
dodgin sharks an jellyfish
an aw sorts,
awa oot, miles fae land.
(God!  Youse!  Take it up the stair!
Tell thum, you!

"Aye, boys.  Listen tae yir ma.")

Then wan day, like
they get the urge, ken?
Got tae go.
An in they come,
surgin fae the sea,
these sleek, silver bullets
fat wi feedin.
(I'll no tell yis again!)

Nothin, an ah mean nothing
is gonny stop them.
Waterfalls?  Nae bother.
Just pure hungry
fir the lassies, ken?
The boy Attenborough sais
they dinny even eat!
(That's it!  Ah tellt ye!
Here you!  Take some responsibility,
wull ye?

"Eh?  Oh, aye.
Away tae yir rooms, boys -
yir ma tellt ye.")

These pure ***** divils
will loup up sheer cliffs,
baws burstin, bi the look ay it.
Poetry in motion, ken?
Like, ah dinny ken, pure water
brought tae life, an that.
Jist pure savage.

An then, haw -
they find the lassies!
An it's jist, like,
'splurge'!
Done the deed.
Gemme ower,
job done,
deid.

An there's this shot.
Ripplin shallows,
just fill ay the twitchin bodies.
Craws an bears an that,
queuin up fir the bonanza.
Jist, like,
totally
spent.

An she's aw,
Here, is that no terrible?
Pair buggers!
Eifter aw that!

An ah'm like,
"Aye."

But see inside,
ah'm thinkin,
"Lucky,
lucky *******."
codenameDust Mar 2016
I lost a friend
Somewhere in that land
Where sadness
Does not come to an end

Actually I lost two
Somewhere in that land
Where betrayal
Comes from a friend

I don't sleep
As I watch it grow
Hoping I can handle
That little creep
Telling me
I can sink back
Into that black hole

Who are you supposed to be?
As I expected everything was connected
And we were fighting
But I still stood united
By your sides
What a wicked thing
I did not forsee

All nights you'd gone
You had places to be
I was so wrong
Giving my trust for free

I've been through ****
You can't imagine the jist
But I've always
Blindly trusted
My friends

Now, instead
I watch it grow
And expand
Hoping I can handle
And withstand
Arcassin B Sep 2018
By Arcassin Burnham

So I asked myself do I just move on,
Cause I always fail,
I think my soul dwells in hell to be strong,
Face is pale,

Like the other side of the polar arctic freezing at my feet


While I sink, been through enough of this now what do you
Think?
Does it amuse you for me to fall or make fun of my mental state like
I shouldn’t even be apart of this state,
Feeling ridiculed and misleaded,
Florida boy looking out for a way, so do I just move on,
Loving the little things in life to cope on,
Memories are just receipts and coupons,
Is this just something to fall upon.

I have more heart than you will ever have,
Swallow pride if you feel bad,
All I do is sit back and laugh while you laugh because nothing good will come out of this,
Nothing is better than doing good in your life rather than be a pessimist,
I Want nothing more to feel the peace in this,
You'd rule the world with an iron fist,
The golden child with a broken lisp,
Follow my lead if you get the jist,
So I asked myself do I just move on,
No excuse to fail,
So its time to move on,
move on.
©abpoetry2018

https://arcassin.blogspot.com/2018/09/heart-road-to-minds-eye-4.html
Jennifer Weiss Oct 2011
I apologize for seeming so weird

Its just that fate has always showed me exactly I feared

If you thought that I enjoyed or reveled in the oddities

You’d be wrong, I’ve always envied the wannabees

Its the price I pay for being aware

I never cared to know this much about the truth, I deem it unfair

I feel like I’ve always wanted love

But as much as I’ve desired its not something I was made of

My life has been nothing on this side of typical

Growin up I felt my beliefs to be unsinkable

Then she broke all my understanding of reality

Mom showed me life was anything you wanted it to be

And I don’t know if that was for good or bad

I started pushing the envelope just to see what I really had

Could you love me if I really did this?

Probably but I would never tell you, keeping secrets balled inside my fists

They would only explode when they hit

But no one ever saw, I was my only friend when I had to get through the hell of it

Years have passed I may be getting over it

But I still feel as empty as the day I fell inside this ****

If my message couldn’t be anymore clear

I feel like its been a mistake since the day I got here

And I can’t emphasize how much I die every time I go to a lifeless job that leaves us more blind

I see the soulless look inside your eyes and I wonder if you could pinpoint which moment in your life you died

I’m not saying that I’m perfect in any shape or form

I often wish God wouldn’t have wasted this life on someone so **** to under preform

I don’t know what it is I’m living for

The jist of what I’m meaning is there has to be so much more

We have to believe that what we do matters

Because if it had no meaning we’d just be a bunch of unpaid actors

Going through the day to day, trying to grab as much pleasure that comes your way

And I feel sorry for those who think that’s what its about

Who feel that nothing happens when the light inside you goes out

And once again, I don’t pretend to know it all

But I know this much, there’s a lot of undiscovered life inside of ya’ll.
Alan McClure Jun 2013
Ah didny recognise him fae the eulogy.
The meenister'd nivver met the lad, Ah could see.
A hero?  Aye, mibbe.  Jist a name tae maist ay these fowk.
But ah kent im as a boay,
the daft wee scapegoat, ayewis in boather,
but nae real hairm in im.
He wis the lad wha'd get skelped, the noise
makkin the teacher turn is heid
jist in time tae spot im skelpin back.
Mairched tae the heidie again.
"Yir a bad lot, Barry.
Yir faither wis a bad lot too."

Puir Baz.
Da in the jile,
Ma aff her face on smack,
an him, daft, funny, doomed.
If onybody at hame had cared enough
tae keep the schuil photies,
they'd have shown a wee freckly laddie
wi a too-open grin,
year eftir year,
jersey gettin tattier,
teeth getting gappier,
still grinnin while the rest ay us
were far too cool tae smile for the camera.

Ah liked im.
Didny unnerstaun how the teachers
were sae ***** tae im.
There wis far badder boays in the year.
Ricky ****** Jackson - a nasty, sleekit wee body,
yankin ab'dy's strings.
But his da wis rich
an the teachers fawned ower im.
No Baz, though.
Cannon fodder, richt enough.
Tackin the flack fir the rest ay us.

Exactly the kind ay lad
the ******* Army thrives on.
Ah canny feel the patriotic pride,
canny picture the self-sacrifice,
the heroism.
Ah can juist see im,
daft an grinnin,
daein whit he wis tellt
an gettin killt.

Mind you,
he wis aye headin for the poppies, that yin,
One wey
or anither.
tread Nov 2012
long hair long johns of sad happy
clear fog is the dog god doggone dog

kind of you to kind of listen
kindling burns like Hong Kong midnight brightlights
whose birthright, or birthwrong

down-under daggers for flags
flagged
flagulation
creative sensory compensated penitentiary
forward lad landing laughter for the last log on the fire
the last day for earth to say
please plead for plaid shirts to pay for themselves
otherwise there will be ****** for you to see

summer in the winter if I sprinkle a little bit more wood on my splinter
sink or swim, sink and swim, sink to swim
swim to sink
ah
um
oh
ehhem
undo your dress and undo your last mistake

please retake the photo so I can stay awake.

don't, I mean, yes
yes

hands could be cold
but
then
a
g
a
i
n

I just call it what I must
plustwo double yous in a zoo for the future flu's to cruise like truce
11/11/11 armistice
missed the list when you kissed my wrist
I extracted bliss from the Buddha's jist
just
cause?

just call for the muse music

don't mind me
I mean
yes,
yes

motorcade king of spades I got laid to the silence
of a forest in the poorest richness I've never ditched this
**** zip
zap
my zipper is a little critter crawling through the litter on the city's twitter account
doesn't amount to much but I sound like I'm salted in breath
dead like MacBeth, the challenge was the shaken speare
sprained everclear of the diamond tear or the shattered cheer of ancient seers

truth
is greater than fiction.
recorded performance
http://soundcloud.com/kyran45/fractal-pattern-fiction
Cecil Miller Mar 2017
Yes, I've had a kiss before,
But never a kiss like this.
Never a kiss, if you get the jist,
A kiss that gives me bliss.

Yes, I've had a kiss before,
But such a kiss I've missed
That jellies my bones and makes me this.
So, really I've not been kissed

From my chimney to my spout
All my senses steam about.
All the while love is in style,
I know nought but this beguile.
My walls tumble, boundaries crossed,
Wicked wiles, innocence lost.

Yes, I've had a kiss before,
But never a kiss to list
Till I gained from your two lips
A kiss that gives me bliss.
I don't post as often anymore because I have been busy writing a novel, (romance this time, instead of gothic horror) but I hope to be contributing my poems to the great book in the weeks to come
ring Nov 2016
The barrier of poison and ****
                    You're better than us
                   A metal chassis of rust
                                           Anonymous.
This and that and jist and just
                     An abyss full of fuss
                                   No love or lust
                                            Anonymous.
Cease to speak or discuss
                    A might or a must
                         The empty pie crust
                                             Anonymous.
Preference to throw or ******
                       Detest and disgust
                         To cry or get crushed
                                             Anonymous.
Trupoetry Nov 2017
I ran to the edge of Heaven today
Leaped from my bed and almost fell down a cliff
In a balled fist
I had a list
Your name was at the top of it
"Unfinished Business"
God says I have to keep living until you agree to die together
Isn't that why Marriage says Until Death do Us Part?
Yet you keep parting ways with me in the living
& No kidding besides my Fathers Death
You are the only memory that chokes me up
Like walking into a funeral late
Everyone there has already grieved
So you swallow, hard and quietly
The tears don't roll down your face
They bravely brace the fire escapes we call cheekbones
They know
That burning passion will create smoke in your eyes
Smoke in the eyes always creates water
Water helps things grow
& your heart has been dry for far too long

So today I took the last Birthday Card I ever sent you
Folded the sides of it down
Turned the corners of it upward

Got a running start from Earth
Launched it to the ******* the cliff in Heaven
She keeps reaching for me
Speaking to me
I need her to see

The Earth bound boy that makes Heaven worth the wait

The clouds in his hair
The wind in his laugh
Cools me in summer
Challenges me in winter
& scares me during my storms

He is all I've ever been
I know him
I owe him; a glimpse in the mirror
A ring around a rosie
A 1, 2 , 3 not it
A Happily EVer After
A you can do it Baby
AN I forgive you
Please forgive me
For laughing my real laugh
I know the snorting tickles you
I know you hate to be tickled

The plane never quite makes it to the cliff
Although intrigued by my love
She never quite gets the jist of it
& this stupid list
of Unfinished Business
Keeps auto correcting in your name...
Jenny Gordon Mar 2019
...ARGH!  Hence the title...



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXV)


Spent, ere the fragile chance to what? avail,
Look how blue skies warm in dawn's welcome, whence
Don't roll a single word for aught intents
Across my tongue, jist see, and wonder, pale
As howling oer grey heavns' sheer lack, nor scale
Lo, any bit of this or that cuz sense
Drowned late on Monday night where visions dense
With oh, Victorian airs stole off wee bail.
Yes, when I've but a minute to bestir
My pencil for ah, which detail passed through?
I'm swooning sans a voice yet over her--
That girl whom lit'rature FORGOT, cuz ooh!
She was his mistress; won the world as twere
Because of that keen secret:  I've naught cue.

12Mar19a
Yep, immersing me in all I could read on LEL aka Letitia Elizabeth Landon took my soul in a whirl back to that era and familiar visions, so much so that even after a "good night's" sleep, when I found a chance to scribble, that waltzed before me in lieu of aught else.
Gaffer Oct 2015
Brian, you’re so boring.

So you keep telling me.

Why can’t you be more spontaneous.

Did I or did I not bring you in a daffodil.

You brought in a dandelion.

Think of it as a gesture.

That’s what I mean, it's a token, now Mary's boyfriend robbed a bank to buy her a ring.

That's the guy who’s doing ten years.

That's besides the point.

So you want me to rob a bank for you.

No, I want you to be more like Tasman's boyfriend, he went on top of a moving truck with a banner saying, I love you Tasman. So romantic.

That was the guy who died when the truck went under a low bridge.

That’s not the point.

And another thing, at the funeral, why were your friends calling me Brent.

I was trying to make you sound sophisticated.

Oh you did that alright, Brian Crude became Brent Crude, your idiot friends thought it was hilarious.

Well, how the hell was I to know it was an oil company.

He thought to himself, you want something romantic, I’ll ****** well give you something romantic.

Why did you give me a giant Teddy bear? This is what I mean! Jist think for two seconds, will you.

Two days later

Erm. What's this?

If I didn't know better, I'd think that it's a letter.

Ha-ha. It's addressed to the teddy bear: "Only for teddy".

Well then you should give it to teddy.

Don't be silly, a stuffed animal can't read. And it's your hand writing.

Well I'm sorry but it's between me and Teddy.

#later that night while he was out, she just couldn't help herself.

"Dear Teddy,

I hope you're well. I'm sending you this letter because as we discussed earlier, I won't be home tonight. I wanted to make sure you'd take good care of my girl. Just remember, she likes:

- warm cuddles
- chocolate
- chick flicks
- long conversations
- kissed on the forehead
- roses

I knew you wouldn't be able to pick up some of the above so DHL is delivering the chocs, Eat Pray Love the movie and roses tonight. Be sure to be home at 8 pm.

I expect you to take your responsibilities seriously. One wrong cuddle can make her over think all night. I better not find her over thinking. You know how special she is to me.

Best regards,

Brent"

A Paul Gaffney& Lily Nurmi production.
John Bartholomew Dec 2018
It's ok, I've never heard of me either
I'm what's called 'back-up' in case a famous one loses its tether
You think the big man relies wholly on the ones that you've heard
They're just for the kiddies tales baby, don't be so absurd
There's Splodger, Spliffer, Ransack and me,
To name but a few with names that don't agree
There's Woody and Wobbler with Randy and Tiddler
You'll get the jist with the names that have been called here
All stood out the back after the main ones have been chosen and cleared
Kids don't want to hear of the ones who break all the rules
Sitting around all day stinking of their own stools
For this isn't the way of a tale to be told
If written in books then none would be sold
As I am the just the Reindeer waiting in the wings
Credit to Rudolph and the other ones who's names the children sing,
As I am happy to be just waiting here, stuck between the shadows
As time will tell if Rodney fits a story, that all will someday follow

JJB
Raven Smith Mar 2021
The names they have called me echo around in my head,
reminding me of who people think I am.
But it's not like I got to choose that anyways.
My words can't affect their view of me,
but their words can affect the way I view myself.

Weird.
You said you were just joking.
That didn't make it hurt any less,
even though I claimed it did.
Then you moved on to calling me "limited edition"
because you thought weird was too hurtful.
It still hurts because you meant weird every single time you called me limited edition.
You moved back to weird eventually,
I think.
The names continued,
progressively getting worse and worse until you started calling me things I dare not repeat!
Oh, but I was laughing?
It was to keep the tears from falling because God knows that makes me a crybaby.
I thought we were best friends, and I was obviously wrong.
The only reason I stuck around you was because I had no one else.
You called me gay for hugging someone I thought was a friend at her birthday party.

Sweet little unforgettable thing.
You thought you could slide that one past me,
but I put the first letters together;
I know what you meant,
even though I have no idea why you'd call me that.
I've never had a boyfriend,
much less a first kiss.
Dumb.
I never really understood this one;
I'm top in my class.
That didn't mean the names didn't hurt,
because they did.
I just didn't understand.

This next one wasn't exactly said with words,
but I got the jist when you wouldn't let me hang out with you and your friends.
I wasn't cool enough.
I.
Wasn't.
Cool enough.
Little did you know
that your words continued
to plunge themselves like knives
into my vulnerable spinning wheel
of a heart
until you hit the bullseye
and it exploded into a million tiny shards
that I can't even begin to pick up.
Louis Fraser Apr 2012
Sociopathic spiritualist
Confused by this?
Ya gettin' the jist
Years in a green mist
Gorilla ****** at the sight of poachers hi-viz
Blatant thievery
Gettin' me irate & militant
Conductin' information like a cobalt filament
Hippocracies imminent
If you don't know the deal look at Africa's innocents
The future for a fee
Monitory
Cold as the Chukchi seas
If your wonderin' where they be?
Let go of Albert Square & check your geography
Menace to sobriety
Rudarellis playin' tennis with the moods it's supplyin' me
Preachin' no class As
Hittin' the mirror like the mans buyin' me
RyanMJenkins Aug 2012
Poured a cup of fruit juice to see it was only 5%
Artificially coating life, never tasting the truth of what it meant.
My motivation space in my brain is vacant, and open for rent.
Sorry if you have to share it with a guy on the inside that's seemingly hell-bent.


Parents shed your clarity and wisdom, as oppose to letting your anger fill them.
Screams in dreams rip me out of my fantasy right at the seams, and maybe,
Maybe I'll never know what it means.
Some could view me right now as apathetic,
but those are the same that see my words as babble, because they just don't get it.
I think I've stopped caring about the criticism,
Because I stay within the confines of my individualism.
Your judgements put walls around me, restrictions I don't need.
I realize we're different, down to the music on which we feed.
No one wants to see how we're similar,
Always casting categories to the unfamiliar.
***** the false idea that you live up to
The only way out is being Through, with all the *******,
No more wrongdoings to persist.
I could speak forever, and for those who've listened, I hope you get the jist.
I'm ****** to remain in a state with people of a similar fate because we let it.
You must have it made if you're one who doesn't get it.

— The End —