"jitter" poems - Hello Poetry

"jitter" poems

Did you see the bliss Shoot across the night sky? Here then there so quickly Like a blink could project its moment Yet when crumbling Into the quake of memory It is the window's remaining rain Trickling down so slowly after the storm Until all that is left is its drying trail Clear to see the tired clouds sink behind A heart so weathered Never truly sleeps. Never rests The hallow beats manifest Into the crippling visions of the night Blanketed by such distress Until the rising light does nothing But awaken the regrets that were left on the nightstand Like a book with one chapter No where left to turn Do you see the ache Shining dim in the night sky? Like a footprint in the moon's dust As alone as one could ever walk Do you see the shame? Like forty dying stars Their fiery, blazing eyes Watching every paranoid jitter

0

Dec 11, 2014

Dec 11, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC

Like Forty Dying Stars

Did you see the bliss Shoot across the night sky? Here then there so quickly Like a blink could project its moment Yet when crumbling Into the quake of memory It is the window's remaining rain Trickling down so slowly after the storm Until all that is left is its drying trail Clear to see the tired clouds sink behind A heart so weathered Never truly sleeps. Never rests The hallow beats manifest Into the crippling visions of the night Blanketed by such distress Until the rising light does nothing But awaken the regrets that were left on the nightstand Like a book with one chapter No where left to turn Do you see the ache Shining dim in the night sky? Like a footprint in the moon's dust As alone as one could ever walk Do you see the shame? Like forty dying stars Their fiery, blazing eyes Watching every paranoid jitter

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Katie the previous lives lady tries to rescue her nephew Katie's nephew Jackson Gooden is in town to spend some time with Katie and it couldn't have come at a worst time, you see the kidnapper who kidnapped Graham Thorne, well his reincarnation was in town and he was getting a messed up head with everyone telling him he was mentally deranged, the only one who helped him was Katie, and when Katie took time off to look after her nephew when he's in town, he almost flipped his marbles untill he decided to prove to everyone else that he is Steven Bradley and use Katie as a blackmail target, you see what he plans to do is kidnap Katie's 15 year ok'd nephew Jackson and blackmail Katie,if she refuses to see him, the weight will fall on her nephews head and **** him, yes this is the way for Katie to make sure she makes me happy. Katie begged for him to let him go, and then say you will be a pig in your next life, what you do here affects your future happiness, let my nephew go and we'll talk about treatment for your illness, and he said that he thought she'd understood him, but really she is just like the other's, and Katie had to keep telling him that he is good and will never stray, and she did that because her patient had a pocket knife at her nephews head, and Katie said, I believe this is the wrong way to handle your illness,,I told you that you kidnapped a kid, and seconds later you have my 15 year old nephew at knifepoint, you are ******* up, and also you are making a mockery of my good business, he just laughed still determined he'll **** him And make Katie jitter. Jackson tried to scream, so the knife would be removed from his neck, and Katie said, I will find a way that this man can't ever harm you,,you have to refuse to go anywhere with him, he had a weakness, and that is, if you laugh at him, he'll suddenly be scared of him, and Katie then said that she doesn't believe in laughing in her job, but she decided to make a exception here, because really she wanted time off with Jackson. The reincarnation of Steven Bradley said that he will hold Jackson and Katie for a huge ransom and Jackson said, you can't get me, I am too smart, you see i am young, you are old I'm a young dude, your an old fogie, i'm a young dude, your an old fogie, I'm a young dude, your an old fogie, a stinken little old fogie ma--n. And then he ran and Jackson said 1 win for young against old, and then Jackson and Katie spent time sightseeing for 4 days and Katie, I know she is born to tell people previous lives stories, really enjoyed being away from the office and when she came back,,the first phone call made was a phone call to the cops, issueing a restraining order on that Steven Bradley reincarnation, and then Jacksoc went back to his parents house saying he was kidnapped by a ghost while Katie tried a new approach to tell people previous lives, so she can keep love one's safe for the future of her business, yes that's what she'll do.

0

Jan 10, 2015

Jan 10, 2015 at 4:50 AM UTC

johnny-georgy-brown

KATIE THE PREVIOUS LIVES LADY RESCUES HER NEPHEW FROM KIDNAPPERS

Katie the previous lives lady tries to rescue her nephew Katie's nephew Jackson Gooden is in town to spend some time with Katie and it couldn't have come at a worst time, you see the kidnapper who kidnapped Graham Thorne, well his reincarnation was in town and he was getting a messed up head with everyone telling him he was mentally deranged, the only one who helped him was Katie, and when Katie took time off to look after her nephew when he's in town, he almost flipped his marbles untill he decided to prove to everyone else that he is Steven Bradley and use Katie as a blackmail target, you see what he plans to do is kidnap Katie's 15 year ok'd nephew Jackson and blackmail Katie,if she refuses to see him, the weight will fall on her nephews head and **** him, yes this is the way for Katie to make sure she makes me happy. Katie begged for him to let him go, and then say you will be a pig in your next life, what you do here affects your future happiness, let my nephew go and we'll talk about treatment for your illness, and he said that he thought she'd understood him, but really she is just like the other's, and Katie had to keep telling him that he is good and will never stray, and she did that because her patient had a pocket knife at her nephews head, and Katie said, I believe this is the wrong way to handle your illness,,I told you that you kidnapped a kid, and seconds later you have my 15 year old nephew at knifepoint, you are ******* up, and also you are making a mockery of my good business, he just laughed still determined he'll **** him And make Katie jitter. Jackson tried to scream, so the knife would be removed from his neck, and Katie said, I will find a way that this man can't ever harm you,,you have to refuse to go anywhere with him, he had a weakness, and that is, if you laugh at him, he'll suddenly be scared of him, and Katie then said that she doesn't believe in laughing in her job, but she decided to make a exception here, because really she wanted time off with Jackson. The reincarnation of Steven Bradley said that he will hold Jackson and Katie for a huge ransom and Jackson said, you can't get me, I am too smart, you see i am young, you are old I'm a young dude, your an old fogie, i'm a young dude, your an old fogie, I'm a young dude, your an old fogie, a stinken little old fogie ma--n. And then he ran and Jackson said 1 win for young against old, and then Jackson and Katie spent time sightseeing for 4 days and Katie, I know she is born to tell people previous lives stories, really enjoyed being away from the office and when she came back,,the first phone call made was a phone call to the cops, issueing a restraining order on that Steven Bradley reincarnation, and then Jacksoc went back to his parents house saying he was kidnapped by a ghost while Katie tried a new approach to tell people previous lives, so she can keep love one's safe for the future of her business, yes that's what she'll do.

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Check back soon to resume and consume every tight-lipped, slack-jawed fool in the room. See, it's all what you know as the fires start to grow and the future burns slow. Keep your eyes on the ceiling, and your antenna feelers feelin', for when your senses stop reeling, you will finally start believing. Kick-back to the basics, not too far from the basement, and close enough to show that **** really isn't basic. It's another mid-west, ****** ******** freak show. Another evening drinking whiskey with the seedling's peep-show. So, it's time to relax and relapse into acidified broken synapse. The lights keep flickering and the couples keep bickering: ***** I am not above homicidal snickering.” I steer clear of these diversions, and wander past the sermons, just to chew up all the crooked talk and spittle out inversions. I shovel mockery to hypocrisy, pin-prick the empty ***** whose passions lack predicates, and in the background, I'll be complexifying my medic-kit: ketamine, morphine, ecstasy; marijuana, mushrooms, LSD. Watch those ******* jitter-bug college ***** procreate while sloppy drunk, but keep an honest eye on the flies that will rise above – then fall back down in existential angst, like: “Dear God, why must I be free? Oh, God! Why is every universal eye on me? I'm just another acid war veteran, sneakin' through these gutters with pestilence and bitter sin. When they reach the promised land of golden clouds and holding hands, I'll be underground with the slugs and the spider band.” Yet here I sit, sick of sippin' poisons with illiterates. So, let the skies fall and the buildings crash, as you stand on the wall with a fist full of cash. I'll be on the front lawn, picketing for dawn, while the night around me slowly ambles on.

0

Aug 21, 2012

Aug 21, 2012 at 12:23 AM UTC

Kentucky Fry-day

Check back soon to resume and consume every tight-lipped, slack-jawed fool in the room. See, it's all what you know as the fires start to grow and the future burns slow. Keep your eyes on the ceiling, and your antenna feelers feelin', for when your senses stop reeling, you will finally start believing. Kick-back to the basics, not too far from the basement, and close enough to show that **** really isn't basic. It's another mid-west, ****** ******** freak show. Another evening drinking whiskey with the seedling's peep-show. So, it's time to relax and relapse into acidified broken synapse. The lights keep flickering and the couples keep bickering: ***** I am not above homicidal snickering.” I steer clear of these diversions, and wander past the sermons, just to chew up all the crooked talk and spittle out inversions. I shovel mockery to hypocrisy, pin-prick the empty ***** whose passions lack predicates, and in the background, I'll be complexifying my medic-kit: ketamine, morphine, ecstasy; marijuana, mushrooms, LSD. Watch those ******* jitter-bug college ***** procreate while sloppy drunk, but keep an honest eye on the flies that will rise above – then fall back down in existential angst, like: “Dear God, why must I be free? Oh, God! Why is every universal eye on me? I'm just another acid war veteran, sneakin' through these gutters with pestilence and bitter sin. When they reach the promised land of golden clouds and holding hands, I'll be underground with the slugs and the spider band.” Yet here I sit, sick of sippin' poisons with illiterates. So, let the skies fall and the buildings crash, as you stand on the wall with a fist full of cash. I'll be on the front lawn, picketing for dawn, while the night around me slowly ambles on.

Continue reading...

Under the old house cast in conglomerate mix the cataract window and cracked sill broken joists and cross beams wringer wash and saddle set A draw string light brings life to the corner bench fowler toads and fingerlings jitter bugs and dazzy vance dirt planks filled with mason crown classics Buggy whip and whippletree shelved on the chopboard tackle and mucks stacked at the back horseshoe and jack rod bend the pike pole a sawhorse placed for the Martindale push Gallon jars and growlers prepped for the taking ropes and reins for transport and fest goggle eye jumps the flyer setting up nicely for the Haldimand town fair

0

Jan 28, 2017

Jan 28, 2017 at 12:31 PM UTC

Under the old house cast in conglomerate mix the cataract window and cracked sill broken joists and cross beams wringer wash and saddle set A draw string light brings life to the corner bench fowler toads and fingerlings jitter bugs and dazzy vance dirt planks filled with mason crown classics Buggy whip and whippletree shelved on the chopboard tackle and mucks stacked at the back horseshoe and jack rod bend the pike pole a sawhorse placed for the Martindale push Gallon jars and growlers prepped for the taking ropes and reins for transport and fest goggle eye jumps the flyer setting up nicely for the Haldimand town fair

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heads turn and minds churn as the old white knuckle brings life to the board facilitation (and procreation!) become heavenly fit for the paradigm day jitter men and podium seniors sit cocked in the back row front runners bust a brain box (their lines frayed and edges portrayed) truth makers tread the center stage (with a new and improved product portfolio) an evolution of human spirit mobilized in apparent perfect form sound bites and titillating calls echo from the main hall a wise man cringes on a poorly timed exchange mind sets moving quid pro quo intuitions and convictions viewpoints and revelations all fun and fundamental (or so they say) depth charts and zodiac principles speak to the masses abbreviations refreshers and timeless lifelines *we’d like a peak inside of you* a glimpse of your point of view the turks and talking heads speak of grand design and inclusion class complete (interpreted at the 7th sneeze) please check those thoughts and insights the final answers are coming (satiric)

0

Sep 16, 2017

Sep 16, 2017 at 1:54 PM UTC

Gutter Statement

heads turn and minds churn as the old white knuckle brings life to the board facilitation (and procreation!) become heavenly fit for the paradigm day jitter men and podium seniors sit cocked in the back row front runners bust a brain box (their lines frayed and edges portrayed) truth makers tread the center stage (with a new and improved product portfolio) an evolution of human spirit mobilized in apparent perfect form sound bites and titillating calls echo from the main hall a wise man cringes on a poorly timed exchange mind sets moving quid pro quo intuitions and convictions viewpoints and revelations all fun and fundamental (or so they say) depth charts and zodiac principles speak to the masses abbreviations refreshers and timeless lifelines *we’d like a peak inside of you* a glimpse of your point of view the turks and talking heads speak of grand design and inclusion class complete (interpreted at the 7th sneeze) please check those thoughts and insights the final answers are coming (satiric)

Continue reading...

As days jitter by gleamed with such sheer and merry, Then comes the memoriam-filled allegory; Called the times of meditation and redemption, Purple-shrouded cloth with blood has brought salvation. 40 days to drop down and be poured on ashes, 40 nights to commemorate for such dashes; A memoir to be sung, flinging an elegy, Sacrifice of the Son tuned to a eulogy. But have no disheartened faith heard on stricken grief, For a promise of sacrifice is worth that brief; It’s the moment to recall, repent, and renew, Making a mark not turn to long the past askew. Lenten season speaks of turning from the darkness, Losing a part to share with Him pure happiness; Just as Christ suffered for the shortcomings of men, His Church must respect and join for the time given. So do not grieve for his loss, or that of your own, It will be worth such a gain and it shall be sown; For that choice, a short-time loss is a long-time gain, With God, He provides us courage to surpass pain. Such as to come thwart on our midst His forthcoming, Prepare not only now but till life deems rusting; But until time hovers to an eternal halt, Apprehend, amend on such light and grave faults.

0

Jul 6, 2014

Jul 6, 2014 at 9:14 PM UTC

The Time of Sacrifice

As days jitter by gleamed with such sheer and merry, Then comes the memoriam-filled allegory; Called the times of meditation and redemption, Purple-shrouded cloth with blood has brought salvation. 40 days to drop down and be poured on ashes, 40 nights to commemorate for such dashes; A memoir to be sung, flinging an elegy, Sacrifice of the Son tuned to a eulogy. But have no disheartened faith heard on stricken grief, For a promise of sacrifice is worth that brief; It’s the moment to recall, repent, and renew, Making a mark not turn to long the past askew. Lenten season speaks of turning from the darkness, Losing a part to share with Him pure happiness; Just as Christ suffered for the shortcomings of men, His Church must respect and join for the time given. So do not grieve for his loss, or that of your own, It will be worth such a gain and it shall be sown; For that choice, a short-time loss is a long-time gain, With God, He provides us courage to surpass pain. Such as to come thwart on our midst His forthcoming, Prepare not only now but till life deems rusting; But until time hovers to an eternal halt, Apprehend, amend on such light and grave faults.

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Never sure who's boss between us He comes when called several minutes later... Blinking sweetly smiling as only cats can Golden, half-moons of sunlit bliss watch fat yellow-jacket marginally motivated The hunt cannot compare to the soft grass with its tender clover a full belly and the meeter-of-all-needs nearby But the quick jitter-dance of an easy moth sends the tiger to the jungle of forsythia Gleaming, stalking stripes Alternating white of paws in precise approach The prey? Too quick The predator? Too old and lazy prefers attention Lumbers slowly back lolling against coffee cup Enough.... On needles of white pine a secret lion has lain down waiting only for the lamb

0

Aug 24, 2017

Aug 24, 2017 at 7:05 PM UTC

elizabeth-balise

Never sure who's boss between us He comes when called several minutes later... Blinking sweetly smiling as only cats can Golden, half-moons of sunlit bliss watch fat yellow-jacket marginally motivated The hunt cannot compare to the soft grass with its tender clover a full belly and the meeter-of-all-needs nearby But the quick jitter-dance of an easy moth sends the tiger to the jungle of forsythia Gleaming, stalking stripes Alternating white of paws in precise approach The prey? Too quick The predator? Too old and lazy prefers attention Lumbers slowly back lolling against coffee cup Enough.... On needles of white pine a secret lion has lain down waiting only for the lamb

Continue reading...

Planks, splintering in solidity Together twined in tedium Curving cords of mated metal Lost in ludicrous loops Twines of tetanus protrude Danger danger Rising flying roaring floating Above the stillborn trains Arching acrid aerial arms Lazy concrete spiral, neighbor snail Inverse slide with railings Rumble rumble try and grumble Jitter in jumpy juxtaposition Guts of grotesque giants Flayed flawed under flaming flight Blink away oblivion Orange and omnificent, opaque concern Useful hangnail, table scraps Rise above Shocked stillness soon stumbling Ornamental oasis for the oracles Unseen unheard untasted unsmelled Unfeeling unused to understanding Carry me across Fly me over Lift me beyond Suspend. Glimpse the unparalleled phenomenon Ribs of steel, rain has parted Seeping to the soul Buzzing through the boards Immobile, cradle in the wind Twist Take off your sunglasses Be sure to look around as you pass through

0

Oct 20, 2012

Oct 20, 2012 at 10:30 PM UTC

Footbridge over the Railroad Tracks

Planks, splintering in solidity Together twined in tedium Curving cords of mated metal Lost in ludicrous loops Twines of tetanus protrude Danger danger Rising flying roaring floating Above the stillborn trains Arching acrid aerial arms Lazy concrete spiral, neighbor snail Inverse slide with railings Rumble rumble try and grumble Jitter in jumpy juxtaposition Guts of grotesque giants Flayed flawed under flaming flight Blink away oblivion Orange and omnificent, opaque concern Useful hangnail, table scraps Rise above Shocked stillness soon stumbling Ornamental oasis for the oracles Unseen unheard untasted unsmelled Unfeeling unused to understanding Carry me across Fly me over Lift me beyond Suspend. Glimpse the unparalleled phenomenon Ribs of steel, rain has parted Seeping to the soul Buzzing through the boards Immobile, cradle in the wind Twist Take off your sunglasses Be sure to look around as you pass through

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When weak people tease You see as people go about every day life, they push people around a lot and also another thing they do as well, you see mate is try and tease in a way to make people jitter and even if they might not look like they don't know how to tease, they are teasing they are trying to bring all their friends together and tease them, and they are trying to tease the little shy boy, even if that they are little shy boys anyway, because at least I have a life and I want to be rich and famous, while people are trying to tease in so many ways, like one way they are prepared to say shut up **** every time he says something and when he goes on the computer, he can hear his dad saying be a little teasie, because his dad said that he us shy and some young hooligans said we'll kidnap him to tease him, even if they are trying to make him jitter, even if they are as weak as ****** **** you see people should do volunteer work and do are had write poems and be cool, while my dad is saying your still either a kid or a lady and my new mate is teasing me with his friends, first he invites me over, so he can be helped by me and then he invitesj some other mentally ill people over and started to tease me with his friends because he is saying that your still a little shy boy, and he will say that he ain't shy to complain about work and remain poor, just as Long as he has his fun teasing, and he says that that you are still a defensive little **** and you know you need to realise that I ain't shy to tease you buddy, I will drink alcohol over you and then I will go to pub and have a few alcoholic beverages avd say that you are still getting teased even if it makes him look like a ****** geek, and only geeks tease like that anyway, because they try to tease in so many ways and even if they are little geeky kids, they try and avoid being treated like a geek by saying that they are a teasing but the thing is whether they are teasing or not, they are still a pack of geeks and they will all die long and painfull deaths, and they aren't really cool but they will say that they are teasing to avoid getting teased themselves, they are all a pack of shy ***** who really aren't coping with life very well, so they try and tesse, and that is the end of another instalment

0

Aug 5, 2015

Aug 5, 2015 at 10:43 PM UTC

johnny-georgy-brown

when weak people tease

When weak people tease You see as people go about every day life, they push people around a lot and also another thing they do as well, you see mate is try and tease in a way to make people jitter and even if they might not look like they don't know how to tease, they are teasing they are trying to bring all their friends together and tease them, and they are trying to tease the little shy boy, even if that they are little shy boys anyway, because at least I have a life and I want to be rich and famous, while people are trying to tease in so many ways, like one way they are prepared to say shut up **** every time he says something and when he goes on the computer, he can hear his dad saying be a little teasie, because his dad said that he us shy and some young hooligans said we'll kidnap him to tease him, even if they are trying to make him jitter, even if they are as weak as ****** **** you see people should do volunteer work and do are had write poems and be cool, while my dad is saying your still either a kid or a lady and my new mate is teasing me with his friends, first he invites me over, so he can be helped by me and then he invitesj some other mentally ill people over and started to tease me with his friends because he is saying that your still a little shy boy, and he will say that he ain't shy to complain about work and remain poor, just as Long as he has his fun teasing, and he says that that you are still a defensive little **** and you know you need to realise that I ain't shy to tease you buddy, I will drink alcohol over you and then I will go to pub and have a few alcoholic beverages avd say that you are still getting teased even if it makes him look like a ****** geek, and only geeks tease like that anyway, because they try to tease in so many ways and even if they are little geeky kids, they try and avoid being treated like a geek by saying that they are a teasing but the thing is whether they are teasing or not, they are still a pack of geeks and they will all die long and painfull deaths, and they aren't really cool but they will say that they are teasing to avoid getting teased themselves, they are all a pack of shy ***** who really aren't coping with life very well, so they try and tesse, and that is the end of another instalment

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oh i can tell you why Brexit happened... apparently in light of the European i was not European enough, a mongrel, a ******* Mongol... eastern Europeans are Mongols, mind you... i'm pretty sure the Brexit vote happened... because the A8 joined... when the Eatern European joined the old post-colonial powers... plenty of Pakistanis... do i mind? do i ******* care?! i don't care... you deal with: the minding! no... i have an inheritance tax without any ceremonial past... your **** is your ******* **** plus the Arab, and the curry... **** off! i'm no ******* *vierte ***** pussy-whip... you ******* yo-yo oreo! mind you? put me down on this one... i hate the Poles... i ******* hate the Poles... what they did to the Chernobyl me? i hate the Polacks... don't like them... i'd rather spit than talk to them... i've learned my lesson... i hate them more than the Germans, or the Russians... i hate them with the sort of hatred reserved for patriots... Judas Priests... i abhor the ****** catholicism... it makes me... cringe... then i think: thickens the thong - better than the Islamic crap to mind making a boot... Brexit only happened because of the supposed invasion of the A8... the Pakistani mobile gave off a jitter - somehow the "excess" Europeans migrated... whites combined with whites... Europeans mingled... big problem for the Pakistanis... Brexit only happened because "eastern" Europe joined the *vierte ***** well... "joined"... some of us had enough sense as to keep the currency... ******* Pakistani bullshitters... what?! i thought English girls loved being gang-rape-fucked?! no?! my bad... the joining of the A8 disrupted the presence of Britain in the EU... thumbs up on the curry-sauce... thumbs down on the Baltic sauerkraut.... guess what?! **** you! you ******* British Empire bonkers... relief contra racism with an Empire disintegrating! wankers... sure, beseech alliances outside of Europe... seek them, find them, govern them... the next time you come shoveling your **** into my: awareness... i'll be asking... so... Rotherham... no, not really... don't bother me with that sort of **** you deal with your ******** before shoving your ***** into my mouth expecting me to gargle on the produce... you're closer to Pakistan than i am to Mongolia... you draw the the postcard... i'll draw the pretty picture. don't get me wrong, thought, i hate the Polacks... i don't belong between them... i'd prefer to be strapped to a Hydra of homeless dogs... than exercise the humanity of a shared tongue with these... mongrels; mind you... the British are just as bad... when it comes to their, mongrel stature.

0

Sep 17, 2018

Sep 17, 2018 at 6:54 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

the Mongols are coming! / scenes from Warsaw

oh i can tell you why Brexit happened... apparently in light of the European i was not European enough, a mongrel, a ******* Mongol... eastern Europeans are Mongols, mind you... i'm pretty sure the Brexit vote happened... because the A8 joined... when the Eatern European joined the old post-colonial powers... plenty of Pakistanis... do i mind? do i ******* care?! i don't care... you deal with: the minding! no... i have an inheritance tax without any ceremonial past... your **** is your ******* **** plus the Arab, and the curry... **** off! i'm no ******* *vierte ***** pussy-whip... you ******* yo-yo oreo! mind you? put me down on this one... i hate the Poles... i ******* hate the Poles... what they did to the Chernobyl me? i hate the Polacks... don't like them... i'd rather spit than talk to them... i've learned my lesson... i hate them more than the Germans, or the Russians... i hate them with the sort of hatred reserved for patriots... Judas Priests... i abhor the ****** catholicism... it makes me... cringe... then i think: thickens the thong - better than the Islamic crap to mind making a boot... Brexit only happened because of the supposed invasion of the A8... the Pakistani mobile gave off a jitter - somehow the "excess" Europeans migrated... whites combined with whites... Europeans mingled... big problem for the Pakistanis... Brexit only happened because "eastern" Europe joined the *vierte ***** well... "joined"... some of us had enough sense as to keep the currency... ******* Pakistani bullshitters... what?! i thought English girls loved being gang-rape-fucked?! no?! my bad... the joining of the A8 disrupted the presence of Britain in the EU... thumbs up on the curry-sauce... thumbs down on the Baltic sauerkraut.... guess what?! **** you! you ******* British Empire bonkers... relief contra racism with an Empire disintegrating! wankers... sure, beseech alliances outside of Europe... seek them, find them, govern them... the next time you come shoveling your **** into my: awareness... i'll be asking... so... Rotherham... no, not really... don't bother me with that sort of **** you deal with your ******** before shoving your ***** into my mouth expecting me to gargle on the produce... you're closer to Pakistan than i am to Mongolia... you draw the the postcard... i'll draw the pretty picture. don't get me wrong, thought, i hate the Polacks... i don't belong between them... i'd prefer to be strapped to a Hydra of homeless dogs... than exercise the humanity of a shared tongue with these... mongrels; mind you... the British are just as bad... when it comes to their, mongrel stature.

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Your presence disgusts me Rusts me, rips me open and thrusts me Forcing me to suffocate because you distrust me No reason to hate, you force the lust in me Pry open my eyes, tell me I must see Your life meaning is a lie Self-centered, heart cold as winter, numbly bitter but you still shine The devils mentor, deep nail splinter, nauseous jitter but you’re still mine Expect the worse, immerse yourself first, but your worlds reversed Tilted, head to the ground, all your smiles turn to frowns Your brain pounds from the sound of your scream As your lungs fill with water, just drown and dream You tell yourself it’s over but it’s not what it seems The darkest hour of the never ending night sky The brightest flower, the one that catches your eye The most sin filled child hiding behind a disguise It’s all just a lie, we’ll never understand We live our hell here on earth and pray for heaven in the end

0

Oct 29, 2012

Oct 29, 2012 at 5:12 PM UTC

Your presence disgusts me Rusts me, rips me open and thrusts me Forcing me to suffocate because you distrust me No reason to hate, you force the lust in me Pry open my eyes, tell me I must see Your life meaning is a lie Self-centered, heart cold as winter, numbly bitter but you still shine The devils mentor, deep nail splinter, nauseous jitter but you’re still mine Expect the worse, immerse yourself first, but your worlds reversed Tilted, head to the ground, all your smiles turn to frowns Your brain pounds from the sound of your scream As your lungs fill with water, just drown and dream You tell yourself it’s over but it’s not what it seems The darkest hour of the never ending night sky The brightest flower, the one that catches your eye The most sin filled child hiding behind a disguise It’s all just a lie, we’ll never understand We live our hell here on earth and pray for heaven in the end

Continue reading...

Your presence disgusts me Rusts me, rips me open and thrusts me Forcing me to suffocate because you distrust me No reason to hate, you force the lust in me Pry open my eyes, tell me I must see Your life meaning is a lie Self-centered, heart cold as winter, numbly bitter but you still shine The devils mentor, deep nail splinter, nauseous jitter but you’re still mine Expect the worse, immerse yourself first, but your worlds reversed Tilted, head to the ground, all your smiles turn to frowns Your brain pounds from the sound of your scream As your lungs fill with water, just drown and dream You tell yourself it’s over but it’s not what it seems The darkest hour of the never ending night sky The brightest flower, the one that catches your eye The most sin filled child hiding behind a disguise It’s all just a lie, we’ll never understand We live our hell here on earth and pray for heaven in the end

0

Oct 29, 2012

Oct 29, 2012 at 5:13 PM UTC

Your presence disgusts me Rusts me, rips me open and thrusts me Forcing me to suffocate because you distrust me No reason to hate, you force the lust in me Pry open my eyes, tell me I must see Your life meaning is a lie Self-centered, heart cold as winter, numbly bitter but you still shine The devils mentor, deep nail splinter, nauseous jitter but you’re still mine Expect the worse, immerse yourself first, but your worlds reversed Tilted, head to the ground, all your smiles turn to frowns Your brain pounds from the sound of your scream As your lungs fill with water, just drown and dream You tell yourself it’s over but it’s not what it seems The darkest hour of the never ending night sky The brightest flower, the one that catches your eye The most sin filled child hiding behind a disguise It’s all just a lie, we’ll never understand We live our hell here on earth and pray for heaven in the end

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There is an electric hum from traffic lights Barely audible to the people waiting at the corner Overwhelmed with confusion over the former Condition of the economy in spite Of the surplus of traffic signs So they stare at traffic signs The signs don’t mind They stare right back and watch and contemplate crossing, too But the signs will stay behind Because people go As they please Under an ashy sky And flickers Of lightning Appearing in the clouds Consider the aerodynamics of taxicabs You wish humans were so streamlined and yellow We’re not so bad! Said a fellow Accountant using an algebraic formula to attempt to derive Why you smile for us and I’ve Noticed, though no one else has, the electric storm churning Miles above Polarizing the sky In silence They tremble, these, the not-so-poor It’s that fearful tic, the one we’ve seen before But you tremble, too Do you see me quiver We’ve got that quick jitter Like a prickling under the skin that’s pulsing through Our blood the way that caffeine does Or the wattage exploding in death throes or birth throes Above us now Hypnotic And powerful Though I cannot tell Exactly how far away

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Aug 1, 2010

Aug 1, 2010 at 3:08 PM UTC

The Quiet Lightning Over New York

There is an electric hum from traffic lights Barely audible to the people waiting at the corner Overwhelmed with confusion over the former Condition of the economy in spite Of the surplus of traffic signs So they stare at traffic signs The signs don’t mind They stare right back and watch and contemplate crossing, too But the signs will stay behind Because people go As they please Under an ashy sky And flickers Of lightning Appearing in the clouds Consider the aerodynamics of taxicabs You wish humans were so streamlined and yellow We’re not so bad! Said a fellow Accountant using an algebraic formula to attempt to derive Why you smile for us and I’ve Noticed, though no one else has, the electric storm churning Miles above Polarizing the sky In silence They tremble, these, the not-so-poor It’s that fearful tic, the one we’ve seen before But you tremble, too Do you see me quiver We’ve got that quick jitter Like a prickling under the skin that’s pulsing through Our blood the way that caffeine does Or the wattage exploding in death throes or birth throes Above us now Hypnotic And powerful Though I cannot tell Exactly how far away

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I can taste the kiss of last night’s rain, its touch so gentle, as if my body were a pond rippling from drizzle. We humans have a language we choose not to speak, a brimming tower of gestures meaning nothing, at least, until we say them. Hands that float like foreign syllables, twitching legs that jitter in time to the anxiety of others’ conversations. Posture can hold an argument of its own the way it makes us sturdy as bronze. In this darkness, I shake my silence like a bad dream. I want to be honest. I want to be a silver thread sown into this patchwork quilt world. The rain whispers yes. It says let me kiss you so that your lips feel like they’re dancing.

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Jun 11, 2015

Jun 11, 2015 at 9:36 PM UTC

I can taste the kiss of last night’s rain, its touch so gentle, as if my body were a pond rippling from drizzle. We humans have a language we choose not to speak, a brimming tower of gestures meaning nothing, at least, until we say them. Hands that float like foreign syllables, twitching legs that jitter in time to the anxiety of others’ conversations. Posture can hold an argument of its own the way it makes us sturdy as bronze. In this darkness, I shake my silence like a bad dream. I want to be honest. I want to be a silver thread sown into this patchwork quilt world. The rain whispers yes. It says let me kiss you so that your lips feel like they’re dancing.

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i listen to the dead bird sing, as it lays footsteps for me to follow, when the wind howls into my soul i hear the whirring echo a pregnant fear, a jitter of soul's trauma. this is not a fairytale, it sings. small drops of water that fall from the sky you shall forget the wisp of rain the touch of grass and the breath of ocean air you shall forget it's feeling. if you keep listening to me, it says. everything of warmth will evaporate. and you'll be left with only my voice. but i want to keep listening to the dead bird's song. because it is beautiful. because it touches my soul. And plants a seed of magical numbness just enough to not feel everything else that would be gone. i want the prelude to end. and the chorus to begin. -arsonpoet

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Jun 16, 2022

Jun 16, 2022 at 2:55 PM UTC

dead bird's song

i listen to the dead bird sing, as it lays footsteps for me to follow, when the wind howls into my soul i hear the whirring echo a pregnant fear, a jitter of soul's trauma. this is not a fairytale, it sings. small drops of water that fall from the sky you shall forget the wisp of rain the touch of grass and the breath of ocean air you shall forget it's feeling. if you keep listening to me, it says. everything of warmth will evaporate. and you'll be left with only my voice. but i want to keep listening to the dead bird's song. because it is beautiful. because it touches my soul. And plants a seed of magical numbness just enough to not feel everything else that would be gone. i want the prelude to end. and the chorus to begin. -arsonpoet

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Coffee, I adore thee, somehow you never bore me. Bold and dark or mild and smooth, you get me up and on the move. In warm embrace or cool frappe, mocha, french roast, or tall latte, crema, sospeso or con panna, you never fail to make my day. It’s the best thing ever manufactured, without it, my mind is slow and scattered, for a quiz or formulating I’d be knackered, every morning the Keurig is where we gather. You pick me up and keep me keen, in complementing any cuisine, by delivering a dose of sweet caffeine, you are the original magic bean. In doses quick or lingered over, on mornings with a hangover, I reach for you, your warm embrace, the morning fogginess to erase. The flavors, the scent, which is the best? They are of compound interest. French press or espresso - take your pick - they all provide that delicious kick. Jitter juice, rocket fuel, cup of joe, cuppa, morning brew or ristretto, your flavors please, your scent rouses, a coffee shop is where the crowd is. In slang they call it Mormon-crack, but sugared up or with a snack, with creamy art or straight-up black once I’ve got it, you won’t get it back.

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Jan 27, 2023

Jan 27, 2023 at 9:27 AM UTC

Coffee, I adore thee, somehow you never bore me. Bold and dark or mild and smooth, you get me up and on the move. In warm embrace or cool frappe, mocha, french roast, or tall latte, crema, sospeso or con panna, you never fail to make my day. It’s the best thing ever manufactured, without it, my mind is slow and scattered, for a quiz or formulating I’d be knackered, every morning the Keurig is where we gather. You pick me up and keep me keen, in complementing any cuisine, by delivering a dose of sweet caffeine, you are the original magic bean. In doses quick or lingered over, on mornings with a hangover, I reach for you, your warm embrace, the morning fogginess to erase. The flavors, the scent, which is the best? They are of compound interest. French press or espresso - take your pick - they all provide that delicious kick. Jitter juice, rocket fuel, cup of joe, cuppa, morning brew or ristretto, your flavors please, your scent rouses, a coffee shop is where the crowd is. In slang they call it Mormon-crack, but sugared up or with a snack, with creamy art or straight-up black once I’ve got it, you won’t get it back.

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Inside of this lovely white envelope There is a sweet little secret love note It's in delicate lace, covered in hope But two hearts are not to touch, asymptote Sealed with glitter so love is not bitter Perfumed with strawberry to stay merry Words dressed to look pretty, all hearts jitter Many burdens to carry, stay wary Yet who gave this letter such powers? Building love with beauty and elegance Love's not a tower to fill with flowers Love is a humble shrine filled with romance I will show you what love is meant to be If you would close your eyes and trust in me

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Jan 23, 2019

Jan 23, 2019 at 2:34 PM UTC

Inside of this lovely white envelope There is a sweet little secret love note It's in delicate lace, covered in hope But two hearts are not to touch, asymptote Sealed with glitter so love is not bitter Perfumed with strawberry to stay merry Words dressed to look pretty, all hearts jitter Many burdens to carry, stay wary Yet who gave this letter such powers? Building love with beauty and elegance Love's not a tower to fill with flowers Love is a humble shrine filled with romance I will show you what love is meant to be If you would close your eyes and trust in me

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Hanging turtles and Netted birds of amenity Dangle from her Left hip like jewels ‘neath a, “Ming,” ear as she traverses Mountains beholden kitchens And one more rise come setting splendor. Supper may be atop the right, pelvis, But opposite and left, Rests the flask, bitter in chase of sanity. I’m sure the scant pebble Rattling in between Her stomach and sorrow Was nothing more than A desperate thirst opposed the Blister born benevolence, Thirst opposed execution And a coin converted spirit opposed, “Xie xie,” (thank you), a platitude, As heads clip pavement, Blood pales a gutter, Or soon-to-be feast’s final throes, A bleeding and breeding for other, Leading jitter-beholden mice to flee, For they may be next So future’s victuals arrive Unhindered. All and assumptive, assistance and rendered, She walks away with only this – Everyone’s emaciated And the butcher on the street is still a butcher, A peddler, a savior, and butcher again; A source, be it left, right or wrong, In need of a drink, as we all are, With only the means, “take me to the sip,” And by dollar come pocket born you.

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Aug 13, 2015

Aug 13, 2015 at 10:13 AM UTC

Hanging turtles and Netted birds of amenity Dangle from her Left hip like jewels ‘neath a, “Ming,” ear as she traverses Mountains beholden kitchens And one more rise come setting splendor. Supper may be atop the right, pelvis, But opposite and left, Rests the flask, bitter in chase of sanity. I’m sure the scant pebble Rattling in between Her stomach and sorrow Was nothing more than A desperate thirst opposed the Blister born benevolence, Thirst opposed execution And a coin converted spirit opposed, “Xie xie,” (thank you), a platitude, As heads clip pavement, Blood pales a gutter, Or soon-to-be feast’s final throes, A bleeding and breeding for other, Leading jitter-beholden mice to flee, For they may be next So future’s victuals arrive Unhindered. All and assumptive, assistance and rendered, She walks away with only this – Everyone’s emaciated And the butcher on the street is still a butcher, A peddler, a savior, and butcher again; A source, be it left, right or wrong, In need of a drink, as we all are, With only the means, “take me to the sip,” And by dollar come pocket born you.

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Subatomic particles They jitter and bug on Like the people Late for work That I see rushing about Every day on the street Just trying To make something happen A change Is a positive thing Well, you'd hope so When something Or someone Or somewhere Alters their way When they or it Evolves You always hope for the best But sometime People, places, things Nouns Degenerate And it's a shame But it doesn't have to be that way So Here's to evolving Here's to change Here's to regenerating Into something Better Bigger Staggering On our next Run 'round

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Mar 1, 2013

Mar 1, 2013 at 11:57 AM UTC

Subatomic Particles and You

Subatomic particles They jitter and bug on Like the people Late for work That I see rushing about Every day on the street Just trying To make something happen A change Is a positive thing Well, you'd hope so When something Or someone Or somewhere Alters their way When they or it Evolves You always hope for the best But sometime People, places, things Nouns Degenerate And it's a shame But it doesn't have to be that way So Here's to evolving Here's to change Here's to regenerating Into something Better Bigger Staggering On our next Run 'round

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night under jungle canopy was dark as a cave. at twilight you crept two hundred meters out from the perimeter. you and another. the radio, two claymore mines, M-16s-three clips each- half a dozen grenades, pop-up flares, and four canteens of water. fear fed thirst. you opened two packets of instant coffee, spilled them into your mouth, washed them down, and felt your head jitter all night long. there was always sound. jungle rats or snakes, maybe even tigers, or NVA probing the lines. if there were many of them, you sent up the flares, fired into the dark, detonated the claymores, and were the first to die. (I was M-60 machine gunner with the Ninth Marines in South Vietnam, 1968. LP is a military acronym for ’listening post.’ )

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Jan 29, 2010

Jan 29, 2010 at 5:20 AM UTC

night on LP duty

night under jungle canopy was dark as a cave. at twilight you crept two hundred meters out from the perimeter. you and another. the radio, two claymore mines, M-16s-three clips each- half a dozen grenades, pop-up flares, and four canteens of water. fear fed thirst. you opened two packets of instant coffee, spilled them into your mouth, washed them down, and felt your head jitter all night long. there was always sound. jungle rats or snakes, maybe even tigers, or NVA probing the lines. if there were many of them, you sent up the flares, fired into the dark, detonated the claymores, and were the first to die. (I was M-60 machine gunner with the Ninth Marines in South Vietnam, 1968. LP is a military acronym for ’listening post.’ )

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In my head I am the Russian Roulatte In a tee *** I beg for trust When poured out The foam becomes of your mouth I do buisness in China Shipped to Pueto Rico Make tongues flip as sharp as a Nurican Dominican Jitter till hearts stop beating on top of Italian pool tables I steal breathes from science who believe in what is not in the Bible I am your Russian Roulette Make a feline spray a *** spot in here ****** Make a King errect New Your late night star lights when they stu'n Change the tune in your song from spittin rap versus to singing to God that you was wrong I beat the drugs Put a end to your habbit So when you feel you cant utter a verse I'll let you howl like a suffering rabbit Because no one knows how to use me right I am the only bullet tucked in to take away your life As soon as I leap forward to your attention you will be adoment to a pension Stire clear I am here No intentions but to terminate erosions Respect what I may Careful when you choose to play You must reconsider the outcome I am The Russian Roulette. © the Russian Roulette S.T. Rebel of Eden

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Sep 29, 2014

Sep 29, 2014 at 6:58 AM UTC

fallen-rebel-of-eden

THE RUSSIAN ROULETTE: hard street style poetry

In my head I am the Russian Roulatte In a tee *** I beg for trust When poured out The foam becomes of your mouth I do buisness in China Shipped to Pueto Rico Make tongues flip as sharp as a Nurican Dominican Jitter till hearts stop beating on top of Italian pool tables I steal breathes from science who believe in what is not in the Bible I am your Russian Roulette Make a feline spray a *** spot in here ****** Make a King errect New Your late night star lights when they stu'n Change the tune in your song from spittin rap versus to singing to God that you was wrong I beat the drugs Put a end to your habbit So when you feel you cant utter a verse I'll let you howl like a suffering rabbit Because no one knows how to use me right I am the only bullet tucked in to take away your life As soon as I leap forward to your attention you will be adoment to a pension Stire clear I am here No intentions but to terminate erosions Respect what I may Careful when you choose to play You must reconsider the outcome I am The Russian Roulette. © the Russian Roulette S.T. Rebel of Eden

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This King’s Road My rose petal garden As I pick myself up from my roots. I shake and shiver, Jitter and jive my way through This living almanac of fate: Some Velvet Morning in my cup Of coffee, Some luck, And a mission to create.

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May 9, 2023

May 9, 2023 at 6:40 PM UTC

Some Velvet Morning...

This King’s Road My rose petal garden As I pick myself up from my roots. I shake and shiver, Jitter and jive my way through This living almanac of fate: Some Velvet Morning in my cup Of coffee, Some luck, And a mission to create.

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something unexpected yet so ordinary happened last night it made me wonder how exactly and why exactly the ordinary parts of my life are often so extraordinary that extraordinary, to me, has to be more than exceptionally marvellous and nowhere near far from outstandingly incredible some people call it high standards, like the top step of the ladder I thought last night was incredible because you kiss exactly like how I kiss and the shock fluttered like bits of confetti and glitter on my tongue and lips and all over my goosebumpy skin the cadency of my heart was somehow simultaneously rampant and rested my body fully invested in yours my body completely suggesting it’s yours to touch, to make feel good, to adore the divine woman, curved and open eyes and skin glowing arousal growing bodies non-existent, spirit flowing exceptionally marvellous I jitter in silence, knowing myself and patterns alike I try to throw away this burdening muddy stick of I-always-end-up-getting-sick of things eventually but obviously it’s easier to neglect the fact that this stick is a boomerang and it always comes right back

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Feb 3, 2014

Feb 3, 2014 at 7:14 PM UTC

something unexpected yet so ordinary happened last night it made me wonder how exactly and why exactly the ordinary parts of my life are often so extraordinary that extraordinary, to me, has to be more than exceptionally marvellous and nowhere near far from outstandingly incredible some people call it high standards, like the top step of the ladder I thought last night was incredible because you kiss exactly like how I kiss and the shock fluttered like bits of confetti and glitter on my tongue and lips and all over my goosebumpy skin the cadency of my heart was somehow simultaneously rampant and rested my body fully invested in yours my body completely suggesting it’s yours to touch, to make feel good, to adore the divine woman, curved and open eyes and skin glowing arousal growing bodies non-existent, spirit flowing exceptionally marvellous I jitter in silence, knowing myself and patterns alike I try to throw away this burdening muddy stick of I-always-end-up-getting-sick of things eventually but obviously it’s easier to neglect the fact that this stick is a boomerang and it always comes right back

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You are a radar-buzz, I feel the jitter when you are around. It is stony, it is inescapable, but I do not mind. I might want it, even if it weren’t yours. For your shake I have my own, like a thousand peacocks, enhancing themselves for their mates. Already too bright. And what they are, I cannot say, not much better than my midnight jolt when I go dancing in you. Dilate your clavicles, sweet: I am diving inward. I think you sound like suicide inside, do not want to admit you hate life. So your body speaks for you. That, the drone, it travels me in, Love you like a son, a brother, a husband, and cannot decide which is moving.

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Oct 28, 2012

Oct 28, 2012 at 5:30 PM UTC

You are a radar-buzz, I feel the jitter when you are around. It is stony, it is inescapable, but I do not mind. I might want it, even if it weren’t yours. For your shake I have my own, like a thousand peacocks, enhancing themselves for their mates. Already too bright. And what they are, I cannot say, not much better than my midnight jolt when I go dancing in you. Dilate your clavicles, sweet: I am diving inward. I think you sound like suicide inside, do not want to admit you hate life. So your body speaks for you. That, the drone, it travels me in, Love you like a son, a brother, a husband, and cannot decide which is moving.

Continue reading...