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Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
Specialism, electro mechanical circuits,

moving parts yet move, you see, but when we read we bring our senses
inside
privacy can become a public mind, if one is connected, in a giving way,
taking thought,
as the original medium we found message in,
thought takes form
in words,
words take form in things. Right. Check.

Blake feared the objective world was being walled in,
and all the people screamed, amen.
Again

Build the wall, from icons demoted to mites of no more
weight than a tinker's think,
phe-nomenal noment-ation, if we may

Hot and cool both bubbled up as burps, perhaps from the babes
booming through the lies told before the great war.

No future? You allow that thought in your culture?
And shame and blame?
No wonder you choose to lie.

Bear with me a while, share my load, it's light.
There is a hopeful object,
we can go easy into that good night,
the world is round.

Free from Ra and Isis and all, in one fell sweep of the besom.
Broom, besom, means broom, but the effect of an e,

e-lectrix

you give us the fire we'll give em hell  a game ad in the middle of the massage
Call of duty, black ops.
they
You use you eyes to see, it's a with-spiracy,

a hair of the dog that bit you. Eh?
live in bonanza land, 1965.

and so it goes, Dresden, every minute of every day

the walls of your home are coming down,

unless you were born with a cell phone in your father's pocket.

Privacy is calling for walls from the fenced in time after Bonanza.

Ah, too late, ours is an all new world of all at onceness, a global village, happening simultaneous.
extreme with everybody else's business, huge in
volvement in every body's business

we know too much to be strangers
walls fall down, not go up,
the wallbuilding never workded, did it Grandpa?

Nineteenth century student could believe
the factory system
would use the knowledge, hard-won
from books and chalkboards,
to keep him outa the mine.

Now, the information age,

are we the leisure class? Ever learning,
never knowing everything,

but knowing walls and wars do not perform as advertised.

The safety car, that was one with seat belts, 1965.
Our body percept, it changes,
this image of which you are un
aware.

The disconnected minded man, alienated
artist living edgewise to
cattywompus.

My life is my art, eh, not the other way.
Global village information age McLuhan named these things
from Canada.
More expert than my teacher,
Pop art is not a pun, it was a bubble,
that's a fact. The-joke-with-no-story-line-conundrums,
elephant jokes, blonde jokes

Those tests, Turing would approve,
any old A.I. can play chess,
just remember every response to every move ever made in any game in the system,
like the amygdala, your lizard thought-speed brain,
at the top of your spine.

But humans can make funny seem.

Humor comes from a world of un happiness and gripes,
Jose Jimenez was the example they made. Racist, right?
The guy was a jew.
William Szathmary, Googled it.

From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bill_Dana>

Communicating with the logo-label-designer you wear,
messaging the world what? Exactly,
any un thought thought goes unsaid,

but T-shirts and body art, henna's the best,
those send a message with no thought whatsoever.
Same as Redcoats in bearskin hats, what's being said,
same as the judge with a wig?

What is the role?
Why the ongoing act?
It must have changed into that wigged judge from something.

Theater of everywhere, accept allatonce, or die asking y not.

Inward directed seeking
deep meaning
a role that changes

some outside
the future of the future started, a while back. not too far.

No inevitability.
An act of high poetry

envisioning,
the future was friendly

metaphysical value, brilliant, incomprehensible
a man, a thinker,
storytellers the experts say,
need some mud behind 'em. and some snow.

a mother never satisfied with her life,
brittley self confident,

the whole approach to knowing is old.
Diogenes's search for a good poem, with
shifting levels of imagery,
never shall you know,

they work
the way a word works,
the effect.
effect. fect from Latin facere,
sistere mechanically deus
The oracle of the information age
Ah,whatvoiceisheardaroundtheworld,
oh,mine.2018 Mr. McLuhan,
you'd likely lighten up a little.
Toejammspredder was mcluhan I heard on the grapevine.

Hey, mom, I'm on TV.
Up to doctrine, then destination syndrome a hopebubble

He had brain surgery and returned to Catholicism, a safe place.
But he left his vision to television's offspring.
That's about all I know of his work.
Some things shape us for our future, if we allow the time and let patience have her perfect work.
Martin Bailes Mar 2017
Jose Escobar, 31
Deported: 2 March, from Houston, Texas

Jose Escobar, from El Salvador,
has a son, Walter, & a wife
Rose Marie Ascencio-Escobar,
a U.S. citizen,
now home alone
in South Houston,

Jose Escobar moved to the US legally
from El Salvador with his mother
when he was 15,
and both qualified
for protected status.

His mother erred in filing
renewal paperwork when he
was still a teenager,
his protected status lapsed.

Mr Escobar spent years trying to
sort out  his status and received
a stay of deportation
from a judge in 2012.

But with Trump  
the deportation process
started up again
& he was detained
at his check-in with Ice
& flown to San Salvador.

His family is devastated.

"I'm begging President Donald Trump to look
into my case and see if my husband is really
destroying America,"
his wife told reporters.
brooke Dec 2017
I ain't ever belonged to no one--
not even those that came before,

those frightened immigrants and spanish tangerines tumbling
below deck, toppling into the scattered bed rolls that still smell
like cumin and tarragon, sea and spiced salt seeping through the strong lungs of every youthful San Fermin boy in Pamplona
the raised voices in Seville singing San Jose and my mother's
maiden name--

i fumble in the dark for things to keep me rooted
the strong arms of working men and their weak hearts
barely beating
secondhand boys breathin' dollars an' truck exhaust
lookin' for their match, someone that'll fit
or do 'em just right
sharp things that'll sit pretty and
look good in lowlight,

and me with my tulip bulb heart
plantin' myself in wax, in muck,
in Utqiaġvik, Alaska
during the Polar Nights,
in my palms, beneath pillows, sproutin out the lungs of
those unassumin' who think i'm healin' them
of all the silly, misplaced  ideas

but they got me creepin' out the sides of their cheeks
hookin' these delicate stems
leaving thin perforations all along their sheets
gratin and sharpenin they's teeth--

used to think i was the sun
real pretty and smooth like them stones
you find down near the river
or leaves just 'bout to fall, clingin
to low hangin' branches
just askin to be plucked or swept away
but i'm not any of those things

just a girl
lord, the awful truth
just a girl.
(c) Brooke Otto

get it together.
Hal Loyd Denton Apr 2012
Heavy Metal Lovers


A rolling stone gathers no moss the only time I was good at something all it took was four wheels
And you could be a Genius I guess the wheels gives it away this isn’t about bad boy bands heavy
That broke many a levees of the mind but it is inextricably wound together with music and how apropos
To write about it today when the music of all heaven was called to silence and then a whole lot of
Shaking began When **** Clark walked through the gate don’t waist it just taste it it’s all right to be
Burly and squirrely “Get lost in the rock and roll” amp it up Bob Seeger everything comes with rules
There was time before Elvis but it still applied cool cats had one command be cool don’t break the
Jackson rule of Cool Square is not the fit you want to project oh the sixties the place the strip in
Hollywood the car an Austin Healy convertible if they even had hard tops which I doubt reading Michael
Canes auto biography he spoke of him being there I didn’t see him but he got swallowed up by the
Great beast it flowed out of those clubs into the street the sidewalks full of hot babes and cool dudes
We were so low it was like you were on the payment it even got into the act there was a raw energy
That electrified every ounce of your being it rose out of the payment and cruised those Hollywood
Streets plus every street in America felt its heat and heard it s roar red cherry glass pack mufflers
Then songs took up the anthem I had fun fun until my daddy took my T bird away shutem down GTO Jan
and Dean’s Drag City, Dead Man’s Curve, The little old lady from Pasadena and many more but the king
of cars that held the title was held by no other than the Cobra we were a couple of brazen GIs with a
Seventy two hour pass we met the enemy at a stop light the Austin Healy sounded so throaty in that
Southern California night air and we lived the song do you know the way to San Jose LA isn’t nothing but
A bunch of old freeways we would roar up the entrance to the ten the Malibu highway the Five to Dego
The 710 to long beach and the Queen Mary this southern California kid from Compton a suburb of LA
Was giving me the grand tour Disney and Knox berry later in the day the big sad Walt had just died
And then there was this monster next to us it was towering before we felt so continental a slight British
Smugness as we drove this fine European sports car but when the lion roars your purring becomes a
Little puckish it was bulging in comparison we were like a joke your mother won’t let you have a real car
What did they paint the light red how many shades of red did we turn as we set in this shadow of green
Paint and death for any idiot that tossed out a challenge when he took off it was like our car was
Wearing a smug British suit and the force he generated when he accelerated tore every stitch off down
To just underwear praying the smog would quickly envelop us the rest of the way didn’t happen so you
Do what anyone does you choose the less of two evils and rattle on about how they put Porches engines
Into VW bugs like who cares why is one of those suckers behind us well they are cool and this is about
Cool cars you could always tell them by the tail pipe instead of a round rifle barrel it had a wide round
Funnel at the end like the old blunder bust guns of the colonists then an era and times needs a voice
The male was a mix of Lou Rawls and Berry white doing the singing but also any time introduction was
Needed Aretha took care of the female side Jimmy Hendrix took care of the instrument on his
Supernatural guitar Hugh Masicali African Jazz drummer follow the beat every teen Idol was making
The girls swoon then you add in the mix the American auto chrome and steel dreams see the heat rising
Flashes that were blurs running wide open filled with teens and thrill filled screams and then there was
The exit and the entrance there was a royal distinction that rubbed off on its occupants the cool look
And clothes and hair for both sexes dreamy stars in all places not just the bright lights of movie magic
For girls it was they rode well but if they took the wheel this sealed the deal how can you add curves to
Curves they had the saying your blowing my mind man it in toned them as perfect inter changeable the
Womanly softness the interior the lines outside truly defined you are in the presence of qualities that
Run deeper than just the surface you see so much more how blessed when both car and women
Continually amaze you think you discovered everything oh foolish one you just stepped into another
Power zone that was built in at creation somehow the car was somewhat accidental but the woman’s
Was on purpose cheating would cease to a great extent if the truth was only known you got more
Excitement than you will ever know and for the man let him step out rise to his full height there is
Something sweeping and grand about it how could it be any different muscle and brawn distinction
Used as in art subtle but by being so it is so telling appeal runs no stronger and it effects effortlessly
Adds maximum benefit and joy girls find it unmercifully enjoyable packaged like fine wine in a wooden
Box with straw in other words perfected delivery of romance simply a soothe that washes over you
With lasting ramification the golden straw has glistening particles as well as star dust that make other
World tastefulness abide in two lives equally shared so drive into the setting sun in your own heavy
Metal dream that we love so well
The weight of the world
     is love.
Under the burden
     of solitude,
under the burden
     of dissatisfaction

     the weight,
the weight we carry
     is love.

Who can deny?
     In dreams
it touches
     the body,
in thought
     constructs
a miracle,
     in imagination
anguishes
     till born
in human--
looks out of the heart
     burning with purity--
for the burden of life
     is love,

but we carry the weight
     wearily,
and so must rest
in the arms of love
     at last,
must rest in the arms
     of love.

No rest
     without love,
no sleep
     without dreams
of love--
     be mad or chill
obsessed with angels
     or machines,
the final wish
     is love
--cannot be bitter,
     cannot deny,
cannot withhold
     if denied:

the weight is too heavy

     --must give
for no return
     as thought
is given
     in solitude
in all the excellence
     of its excess.

The warm bodies
     shine together
in the darkness,
     the hand moves
to the center
     of the flesh,
the skin trembles
     in happiness
and the soul comes
     joyful to the eye--

yes, yes,
     that's what
I wanted,
     I always wanted,
I always wanted,
     to return
to the body
     where I was born.

                         San Jose, 1954
You are my life,
when i walk alone
and i looked at the floor
i close my eyes
not to hear your silence ...

when the day ends
it is as if ending my life,
as all my thoughts
alluding are you ...

beyond your eyes and your face,
smiling is my thinking of happiness,
next to my feeling
by opening the doors of my heart
looking beyond,
to bring your heart.

it's night,
and the end of day to me about it
to close my eyes
close to your heart
in my heart.

recognize some serious and feel as the cold
welcomes the warmth of your existence perched on my, as the height of congratulations your senses  embracing my fingertips severance,
aiming to say my calling your designed in my life.

you are my life,
only way when i walk
and watch the floor …
i open my eyes
and feel your silence ...


jose luis carreño t. copyright 15
Yau girl
Laurent Oct 2015
Hoy en mi ventana brilla el sol
Y el corazón se pone triste contemplando la ciudad
Porque te vas.
Como cada noche desperté pensando en ti
Y en mi reloj todas las horas vi pasar
Porque te vas.
Todas las promesas de mi amor se irán contigo
Me olvidaras, me olvidaras
Junto a la estación lloraré igual que un niño
Porque te vas, porque te vas.
Bajo la penumbra de un farol se dormirán
Todas las cosas que quedaron por decir se dormirán
Junto a las manillas de un reloj esperarán
Todas las horas que quedaron por vivir esperarán.

In English :

Because you are leaving

The sun shines through my window today
And my heart feels sad
while looking at the city
Because you are leaving.
Just like every night,
I woke up thinking of you
And I saw as all the hours
Passed by in my clock
Because you are leaving.
All my love promises will be gone with you
You will forget me, you will forget me
Next to the station
I will cry like a child
Because you are leaving,
Because you are leaving.
Under the shadow of a street lamp
They will sleep
All the things left unsaid will sleep there
They will wait next to a clock's hands
They will wait for all those hours
That we had yet to live.
José Luis Perales (born January 18, 1945 in Castejón, Cuenca Province) is a Spanish singer-songwriter and composer who is very popular in Spain and Latin America.
https://youtu.be/YNKVLc1q61E
Scarlet McCall Feb 2017
They came for us with tanks and guns.
We stood our ground—the old and young.
All our troops had mustered round
our Capital--Sacramento town.
A New Republic, we’d declared,
and its defense,
among all would be shared.
With the Bear Flag flying high
we all came to fight and die.
Young men in their combat boots
repelled the dictator’s first wave of troops.
Civilians came from South and North
to resist the fascist ruler’s force.
From Frisco and from San Jose,
from San Diego and L.A.,
from Calistoga and Marin,
thousands had come pouring in.
Then US bombers burned the city,
for the orange Fuhrer had no pity.
They won the battle, but we all know
from history, how these things go.
An occupation cannot last
against a people whose strength holds fast.
The tyrant’s troops will tire, while we
will fight on, until we’re free.
It's inevitable. We aren't all the same country anymore. A country of 300 million cannot be a democracy. California has more than 30 million people and can grow its own food. Why would they stay?
Find You



Every time I hear your voice my voice speaks for yours ...
every time I think start thinking and I end up thinking about you,
but all the more times I remember you ...
It is just as I do not think you ...

every time I remember you wanted to go back and touch your hand
as a white root water
every time you guess, I imagine smiling
filling dark parts of my being.

curiosity called me as well as my prison sentence,
feel attached to you and not empty nothing to everything,
but take as a whole.

I know I'll see you at night and my soul will rest,
he longed to have you because she enjoys you,
even when you absent these, but want to blow on your cheek
the beauty of feeling the warmth of your words.
giving tilt my head to rest it on you.

I might take like a flower and plant yourself in the lines of my hands,
in order to know more of your white collar, to take over your body,
until you clear the lines of my hands of both adore.

I know I put our heads together on the leaves,
and the leaves break the silence to say with my lips
the tenderness that numbs my words and my mouth,
to defy the force of the stars to hug and kiss you.

my lips and my heart smile wet at the edge of a river,
and I think every time before a humble piece of stream
touching my feet; Think about the time you double the corner
believing walking behind me were coming to give me your sympathy grace.

my lips smile that always come,
but do not look back,
appearing as a wish of yours and mine
that slips pretending to be an enthusiasm.

but my skin want your sun, which makes sun, your skin
my heart wish your hands so that you shake
my soul upright in his moral extends through your body as tripartite;
unnamed your anxieties, your blessed feel ...
and my eyes that sometimes yearn to know that your eyes are away from
mine enjoying the beauties of the world.

on crisp leaves silence your sweet voice makes my kisses,
and your mouth will seal fearful passion,
taking our hands and brushing silent crunchy
Crumbling leaves chanting your name and mine.

when you come swinging will open the puffs of wind,
hold my breath to see barefoot and dream my
Belly want to draw your geography ...
as an alliance that unites sheet by sheet,
that unites high heaven looking adorned with lights.

lie down every night in my sheets,
so we cross our clasped hands,
we will touch the stars that will make us sleep ...
whenever your hands are not intertwined with mine
talk about other things in the world.

will remember the starry sky uniting our thoughts,
weaving and calming my whole dream to kiss,
the next time I see you not cease to tell you;
that no harmonious feel more open way, as sheltering your image with my numb hands
by debug of exile and cold untouchable.


unite our dreams as a pale light,
we´ll join in our service and the sky of your forest,
calling in the early evening
looking for you to hold you whole.



Jose Luis Carreño Troncoso /  Copyright  2000.
Chile South America
Piercing with the paled eyes
Doctor gave verdict:  
‘’It is spread thru water,
has to be cared’’  

"No, it is because of
seeing Vangoh’s paintings"
Friend commented.

"Following the funeral procession of
Jose Arcedio Buvendia every day".
Lover ridiculed.  

"Without searching for job
sitting idle
swallowing the news papers".
Father scolded

"Giving no importance to feed
Untimely urination
thinking many pranks.. "
Mother panicked.

"It is the yellow card shown by god
for the foul committed"
Priest prophesised.

Hey, you all those who gathered
with complaints around my liver
coloured like  a crock pecked mango
please remember:

Often life turn yellow
when there is no greenery around.
Geno Cattouse May 2013
My father once told me the story.of The Scorpion and the frog,
Have you heard it? Robert Blake told to me a couple.of times too while I watched
Baretta.?
You know.ole "don't do the crime if you can't do the time"Baretta.But
I digress.That was a long time and one ****** ago.

A tale of woe of being true to one's nature.

A scorpion stood on the river bank seeking to cross for the family reunion.
Comes a frog swimming along.trying to get to his nephew's wedding.
So.  Brer scorpion sticks up a thumb
"Going my way" ? He says.

Sure said the frog but jump on that log .you might float over by sundown.

"If you let me ride over on your back,I can get there in time for the feast"

No way Jose,"you will sting me to death if I let you climb on"
said the frog.

The scorpion insisted even offering bribes until the frog recanted.
The frog pushed of with his cargo aboard.looking back with one eye and the bank
with the other not really trusting his long tailed brother then BANG,BANG
went the scorpion's tail.Frog was done mid river
sinking slowly he began to shiver.
"But you will die too he said to the frog."

"Believe me I know" said the venomous bug
"Then why asked the frog"?
"Fish gotta swim. Birds gotta fly"
"The moment you let me on We were destined to die "
"Nature called. That was all. Nothing personal friend"
"I will see you on the other side and thanks for the ride"
Come and look at my family
it’s big and rambunctious
they all mean a lot to me
theres lots of different branches
there’s a writer, called M. Rase
and David too
they’ve taught me things I never knew
but of course they all do
Im related to royalty
a king and a queen
Named Jose and Whispwill respectively
I wonder if they’ve met each other yet?
Then there’s determined Yuu
who shredded my heart with Blackberry Tea
some of them have hurt me, don’t worry though
I’m sure their OC's will be fine after all they’ve been through
R. Merryweather writes lots of things
there’s even a new series
next is Vel, with her apocalyptic mysteries
Ana and Kittie are new to the family
give them a big welcome when you see them
Rukan’s drawing a series, seki and keisuke are my OTP
Bob likes animals, she’s a skilled gal
I really miss Yuumei, Wave, and Jun Lee
but they’ll return someday, you’ll see
Kura updated recently, Nick brought me to tears
MAT and Ariel Ries crossed different boundaries
but everything will be alright
NaniRoxy's not around, she’s making some adjustments
so you’ll just have to leave a message
Viryse is in the hoodie brigade
with Yuu, Jose, and Kao too
GlanceReviver and KJ Tower
write exciting love stories
SnailLords is gone, but not really
he moved his web series such a tease
Captain Juuter and Kinkan Yoona
slice up life in different ways
this is badly written and doesn’t make sense
and I know its long but it needed to be said
and someday you can meet the rest of them
the rest of my big family
These are the users of artists on Tapastic, give them a looksie if you've got time
Jose Gonzalez Apr 2016
Having laid my eyes to witness beauty, true of form, shown before me.
How it's haunting was thought of in my mind, appearing in randomness, silent of times.
My thoughts are with more frequency, closer, near touching of skin and core.
Sensing in intensity throughout, triggered at any given moment any within.

My heart races in waiting, my mind filled, consumed of it's power.
It's becoming intertwined, joining, buckling me down to knees.
It speaks in my thoughts, am powerless to her drawing upon the heart and soul.
Wrapping me into submission, am giving in willfully,  no sense to be made.
I am in daily prayer to understand, seeking knowledge of how it affects, to why I see!

I am to bare, no longer to resist, fully taken and under it's spell. A haunting it is no more, part of me always, seeded within.
A possession by it's will, by which there shall be no cleanse.
My soul has, and forever visited by her beauty.

Till the hereafter and beyond, I am marked by who she is.

Copyright © Jose Gonzalez2016
"Haunting" here is not meant as a terrible experience, but rather how it can affect one when it happens.
It'smeAlona Aug 2018
Ang hindi magmahal sa sariling wika
Ay higit sa hayop at malansang isda
Ayon sa isang taludtod na isinulat ng ating pambansang bayaning si Gat. Jose Rizal

Sa Luzon, Visayas at sa Mindanao
Wikang Filipino ang katutubong wika ko
Iba-iba man ang mga dayalekto
May ilakano, waray, bikolano at tausug
Wikang Filipino ang siyang gamit ko

Ngunit tila ba nalilimutan na ng mga milenyal
Na ang ating wika'y nararapat na pagyabungin
At bigyang halaga sa pakikipagtalastasan
Hindi ang hayaan at tuluyang iwaglit

Sa sulating pormal nga at mga sanaysay
Hindi nababanaag kung ano ang nais ipahiwatig
Kulang na nga sa mga titik
Mali pa ang baybay
Akala nila sila'y tila mahusay na

Sa mundo natin ngayon
Na makabago at teknolohiya
Tila ang Wikang Filipino'y naisasawalang bahala na
Na dapat sana'y isinasaulo't binibigyang halaga
Upang Wikang katutubo'y maipakilala sa madla
anne collins Jan 2013
Why do you always know what to say
And never when to say it?
Why do you always reassure
When nothing is amiss?

Why do you always pave my way
When my path is perfect
Miles of clear pasture
But never when I’m lost in the abyss?

Why do you always warm my blood in the sun
When my skin is golden bronze
And leave me to freeze on new years eve
When the world is winter?

Why do you protect me from the kind hearts of loved ones
And never from  others who wish me harm?
Shielded from the wind but not the rain I believe
That burn you ignite is bitter
railroad yard in San Jose
     I wandered desolate
in front of a tank factory
     and sat on a bench
near the switchman's shack.

A flower lay on the hay on
     the asphalt highway
--the dread hay flower
     I thought--It had a
brittle black stem and
     corolla of yellowish *****
spikes like Jesus' inchlong
     crown, and a soiled
dry center cotton tuft
     like a used shaving brush
that's been lying under
     the garage for a year.

Yellow, yellow flower, and
     flower of industry,
tough spiky ugly flower,
     flower nonetheless,
with the form of the great yellow
     Rose in your brain!
This is the flower of the World.  

                         San Jose, 1954
Me be 'avin a good time enjoyin' me boombastic trailer park home.
Den a tornado of Reggae come rollin' down da road.
Reggae Kids with a Reggae attitude.
Hooligans with a passion. My passion.
Reggae

Da flurry of rastafarianism be tearin' up the houses.
Destroyin' mailboxes as dey 'proach me home.
Den, like lightnin' they be in front of me.

We like you, Reggae Reggie
They say
But we be as poor as a washed up Island Boy
I fear for my safety
So we gonna have to rob you

Me pull out a gun n shoot the kids.
****'n chumps tink dey can rob me.
No way Jose.

*******, bad boys

Life went on.
This really happened to me this mornin'
David Nelson Sep 2011
No way Jose

sitting at the stop light racing my engine real loud
looking in my rear view mirror waiting for the next sucker
pipes bellowing a cracking sound drawing attention

everyone was staring I had attracted a rather large crowd
this dude pulls up next to me a kiss I throw as my lips I pucker
there was no doubt  a good *** kicking was my intention

he raced the engine of his helpless piece of crap
thinking he would impress me with his guile
he had no idea who he was messing with poor *******

the light turned green and the fire belched a thunder clap
screaming off the line leaving burnt rubber in a pile
this look of horror on the goofballs face my reflexes so mastered

as he faded to the background becoming a mere dot
I was keenly engrossed my mind so focused eyes transfixed
there was not a chance in hell no none not this day      

I chuckled to myself as I cruised to the next challenging spot
there was not going to be any caring today no emotions mixed
looking in my mirror once again no not today no way Jose  

Gomer LePoet....
I want to be different,
I want to take my love ...
and say to miss you my sweet petal
There is no greater sorrow not see you ...

Forgive me for not coming back ...
before my absence would cause your death,
Wait for me ... I'll tell you ... and I miss you
with my immortality Feel you...!

How I miss you...!!

Jose Luis Carreño Troncoso / CR  15 -
Johnny Noiπ Nov 2018
On a night, eight years ago,
a woman's health, the British leader
and most of them in South America,
Earth and earth, space, sun and perfect love,
changed his wife, emperor of English.
"The Best Moon" - Jari MI - Its roots
are open today, strong oil. Although I look,
I thought: I like role, work, glass, clothes,
women, women and girls, games, ropes
and windows of Russell. My son, I feel
that insulin exploration, walking along
the coast and after a catastrophe, Jellyfish
is a shaman, a bruit, a born demon. There
was a mother who was sick in hospital:
Hit Williams in English, English, French,
French and Williams Williams
in Spanish
England and England, Tom and the
Id Casino: because they were inside
to the east
One night, eight years ago, women's health,
British leaders, and South American majority,
Earth and Earth, the universe, the sun
and perfect love changed his wife to a British consort.
"Best Moon" - MI Fingernail - Very strong tree now.
I watch, but I like Russell's roles, work, glasses,
clothes, women, women and children, games,
ropes and windows. My son, I was on the coast,
and after the accident, I think insulin exploration
is a shaman, a wine, a demon born. The mothers
who came to the hospital were British,
British and British English, French, French,
Williams Williams, and Williams were Tom
and Hawa Kosino. To the east one night
eight years ago, women's health, British leaders,
and the majority of South America,
Earth and earth, universe, sun and perfect love,
change, wife, British wife. "Best Moon" - MI Fingernell -
now a very strong tree. I watch,
but I like Russell's characters, work, glasses, clothes,
women, women and children, games, ropes,
and windows. My son, I'm on the coast
and after the accident, I think the insulin exploration
is Shamanic, wine, and demonic.
The mothers who came to the hospital
were British, British and British English,
French, French, Williams Williams,
and Williams Tom and Havas Casino. To the east

One night, eight years ago, the health of women,
British leaders and South Americans; Earth and Earth,
World, Sun and Love, Change, Woman,
British Consortium. "The Best Moon" - MI Fingernail -
Very Strong Wood. I watch, but I like Russell's roles,
work, glasses, clothes, women, children and women,
games, ropes and windows. My son, I was on the shore
and the insulin exploration after the accident
is a shaman,
wines born of the demons. British, British
and British English, French, French, Williams
Williams and Williams Tom and Hwa Cosino
arrived at the hospital. On Easter Day, eight years ago,
women's health, British leaders
and the majority of South America;
Earth and earth, World, sun and love,
change, female, British woman. "The Best Moon" -
MI Fingernell - is now a very strong tree.
I watch, but I like Russell's characters,
work, glasses, clothes, women, children
and women, games, ropes and windows.
My son, on the shore and after the accident,
the insulin exploration, Shamanism,
wine and ***. The British, British
and British English, French, French,
Williams Williams and Williams T
homas and Hawas Casino arrived
at the hospital. In the East; One night,
eight years ago, the health of women leaders,
British and South American, Earth and Earth,
The World, Sun and Love, Change, Women,
United Kingdom. The "best moon" -
MI fingers - very wood. I watch,
but I like the roles of Russell, work, glasses,
clothes, women, children and women,
ropes and windows. My son, on the shore
and the insulator, after the accident
was a chocolate-derived alcoholic.
English, English, and English, English,
French, Williams, Williams, William,
Tommy and Hakanco Sino have come to the hospital.
In the eighth year, the health of women,
British leaders, and most of South America.
Earth and Earth, the sun, and love, *** change,
"The Best Lunar" -Mi F. Neilhel -
Now is a very great tree. I watch,
but I like dressmakers, work, glasses, clothes,
women, children and women, belts and windows.
My son was on the riverbank and,
after this accident, the insulin research
'was immune to alcohol and ***.
England, England, England and England,
France, France, William William William,
Thomas Thomas and the *****
from the Casino
arrived at the hospital. In the east

While this is going on, it happened, the salvation of the English,
after eight years, Africa, and South America, Earth
and all land in the world, and I love the Women in the United States.
"It's good" for peace, NY 1000 - the most exciting. To me, the work
of his clothes, and the women and the little children, and yet I see
the women beholden to the cords of Philosophy's window.
Came to pass after my son, alcohol as the rock, and having lost his
'prescription'. English, English, English, English, Spanish,
Williams, Williams, William Francis and Hakan Koshino hospital.
Within eight years, women, healthy,
and the leaders of Great Britain Southwest.
The world, the earth, the sun, love and ***,
"Sunday Best" - P. Nilhilo - and it was great fun.
I see, too, and robed in the garments of the goods:
but the house of the women, to the girl,
and the women, of their outlook. After
crossing river child is not an enforcement agency,
and *** marriages. England, Britain, Spain,
translated Johannes Julius William, Thomas,
Thomas & Hose Good were taken to the hospital.
The east side;but we see women who look
at the philosophical background. However, this happens -
the rescue of English-Afrikaans and South American years.
There are countries and countries in the world,
and I have women in the United States. "OK",
Peace, New York 1000 - the most exciting.
For me, my clothes, baby, and teenagers
work to find women who see philosophy.
He disappeared after the dogfish and his "definition".
English, English, English, English, Spanish, Williams,
Williams, William Francis and Hakan Koshino.
Eight years later, women in the south are healthy.
World, earth, sun, love and unity, "Good Week" - P. Nilillo -
and it's great. I also saw clothes in the bathroom:
the house of women, women and women, and their freedom.
As you cross the river, the baby is not a branch
of ****** sexuality. Britain, Britain, Spain,
John Julius William, Thomas, Thomas and Jose
Hud were taken to hospital. East side; However,
this happens - the English-African and South
American years
have escaped. There are countries and countries in the world,
I have women in America. "Okay", Peace, New York 1000 -
most exciting. My dress, infants, and teenagers help me
to find women who are philosophical. After Delphi and his "Definition",
he disappeared. English, English, English, English,
English, Spanish, Williams, Williams, William Francis,
Hackan Cosione. Eight years later, southern women
are women. World, earth, sun, love, unity, "good sun" -
p. Nilo - that's fine. I saw the clothes in the bathroom:
the home of the women of the women,
women, and women. When you have crossed the river,
the child's *** is not a branch. Britain, Britain,
Spain, John Julius William, Thomas, Thomas
and Jose Houd were admitted to a hospital.
Eastward; However, it happens - years African English
and fled to South America. There are countries
and countries in the world, I have women in America.
"Okay", Peace, New York 1000 - the most exciting.

The suit, babies and my girls help to find women
who are philosophical. After inserting her Diaphragm
and its definition,
it disappeared. English, English, English, English,
English, Spanish, Williams, Williams, William Francis,
Hackan Cosione. Eight years later, the southern women
are women. World, world, sunshine, love, unity,
"good sun" - p. Nilo - That's fine. I saw the clothes
in the bathroom in the home of the women, women
and women. When it crossed the river, gender
and child *** not branch. United Kingdom, Britain,
Spain, John Julius William, Thomas, Thomas
and Jose Houdini been admitted to a hospital in the East
Emily Miller Oct 2017
I miss you,
West Texas,
You more than most.
I miss people
And things
But I’ve never missed more,
Than I’ve missed you.
One day, I’ll return to you,
And we’ll be together until I die,
My dear West Texas.
Some say your deserts are unbearably hot,
And I say,
It’s easier to make shade
Than a fire.
Picturesque cacti,
Blooming in the spring,
Sunsets that put oil paintings to shame,
And wild mustangs escaping man’s unyielding possession,
Just like me.
I can see them running along the dusty banks
Of a wide river in canyon carved by the Great Artist Himself,
West Texas,
I want to drive a rusty old truck through hot afternoons till frigid nights,
Miles and miles of sweet loneliness,
Until it’s just you and I,
And I can watch your brilliant display of stars move
Across the endless horizon.
Desert owls,
A serpent’s rattling warning,
Creatures that crave solitude,
As I do,
Emerge in the night,
Like the neon lights of lonely bars in the middle of nowhere,
Sweet prickly pear in perfect harmony with Jose Cuervo in my glass,
A tribute to my lonely West Texas,
Singing me a tune of cicada chirps and desert winds,
And the jingle of spurs on concrete floors,
As the men,
As old and covered in sand as the bar itself,
Make their way in from isolated jobs miles away,
To listen to Tejano,
And sip on that cactus nectar,
Distilled by the Great Bartender
For a night like this,
In my West Texas,
Perfectly lonely,
Perfectly perfect.
I just want it to be me and you
And your hot red sand,
I want to see those yellow blossoms bursting from the deceptively spiny hands of desert life,
I want to hang a dusty, wide brimmed hat above dusty leather boots when I come home,
I want the sky to explode with color,
As a reward for enduring a long day of the heat,
And when the rare jewels from heaven fall, and nourish your cracked ground,
And peace is sworn between all animals,
Predators and prey,
For that moment,
So that all may celebrate the loving dew sent by our Great Caretaker,
I want to dance on your planes,
Twirl in the rain,
And let the drops fall between my lips like the crevices of your canyons,
Brought to life when you are,
Slumber when you do,
Live each day as you live,
My sweet West Texas.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2020
Truth legit ligament to power
respondbondobango

doing going going going

Quid pro quo
list/lust

if you list, you comprehend the action
if not the function,
of wind, wine-ding a round tuitive ish in a

future you were not expecting
so soon
so soon you stress about being around orr on

point in a wavy gravy kinda pop
as the *** watched boils
and the plot thickens,

we
be
ing ing in pointed on point, spears to tear

or pierce the peace construed awry by warriors
as an anomolous right used
dark gravity-like force
an affect con no ef
fecting up the guesses that prove we may not
know everything
at once,

like you can't meet you in yesterday, without being you yesterday,

now, walk a mile, no, two, if you think that detail would change
your role from conquered slave to free man,

rather than sychophantic napoleonic fanboy

welcome to the arena,
peacemaker, said the duke aholibahma to the okie pilgrim

in the desert home of Dineh, eh, and deep in the land
allotted the Navajo,

Black Mesa Trading Post, at the edge of the event **'izon,
ever emerges from, to now,
some how,

wisdom, some say, secret/sacred learnednknowns locktawayfsumday

priests with no secrets, likka guru wit no wuwu,
ora phool fullaphilaposers supping poses
ala
Team RC, to the Pokemon kids, could mean some same ideas,
on a fractally clearrer focus,
flat
two dee, details, me, the
in othawoidsvoiciferous meme,
I must define my terms, if I would converse,

with m'owndamnedfaulcitified self,
per se,
Jose.

we have seen, by the dawn's early light, a brighter next than
you expected,

but the wind goes whither it listeth, lust to know,

learn how spiders fly, on threads,
which divert photons
you've seen,

the gleem on a strand of nanoscale near nothing spider effluent

the affect is the project in this papeerry existance as mere
words un spoke but ever once existant,
points of being possible, by any definition save non-being, seeing as, we are
measured points on a line
upon a line
upon a line and on on on in series of threes, oh oh oh please

if puns were of course a common thread, after gaseous humors
have been made family jokes, once more,
in the spirit of
a good burp complimented, not complimentary,
like Saturday soccer trophies; then

the drama feels immediated.

Peacemaker, walks the sideline. Kitty, kitty

have you need of sustenance?
might we dream of the those days old man Hicks saw/sees?

The Peaceful Kingdom, after ever when now is inside your

owned ever, after the mornings of mercy renewal began,

it is a season in the maturing of fruit set aside to feed us,

thru the winter, we last gasps
cough corona level ideas
now qualiated as the dust in the manger,

seen as motes in the sunbeams beaming us into

no room at the inn, remember that band? Bullhead City, Christmas, 1967,

go loud... we have this story happening after the trip to San Luis
for ten dollars worth of dope and a pretty fat senorita, beneath a freaky crucifix.

If the crossed threads send forrth an uncertain signal, might our receiver be the

bit of all knowing needing the upgrade, being as how,

the fabric of reality was here before me? And I, before you, but

here we are, with Rodney KIng, axin' can't we,
all jest, and get along, never

growinginging ohhhld...

ten dollarrs was alot, looking back, it may have cost the poser
playing ****, on the street in old San Luis, Mexico, 1967, we are collecting the

scene, it
was different, when I was nineteen, I noticed less, but then
I'm me.

That is how time itself is synched with reality, if it hapt, it hapt, imagined or not,

if Jesus knew what I think he knew, regarding
adultery being sufficient, in ones heart,

to get the real feel, a referee must have experienced the game.

Oh, shame, the feeling; that was never the affect of sin, that is the affect of

powerless ness to prevent the past,

hssss, let pass the gas, vent prreee explosion, better to mary than to burn,

but the padres had ways, they say. I never went to the mission...

mental time travel, things don't change,
the traveller changes,

now you are the river you can't step in twice.

How's that think?
Witness number one, self... to whom my momma said, at Delphi, where I knew nothing, be true, know you, don't lie, or you die angry.
Looking out at the world before him
Scanning people on the fly
John Jenkins watched as they passed his building
All in a hurry, but why?

He'd sit feeding pigeons when the weather was nice
With seed brought from the local Bodega
For two bucks a week, he'd keep them all fed
With a bag bought from Jose Montega

Each day he would watch, as the people ran by
Never stopping to watch as they passed
This man in the shadows, feeding the birds
And each day, he would watch the same cast

The birds never wavered as the people ran on
Never concerned with their lives, just with John
You could shoot off a gun, and not one would fly
Although, you would expect them all gone

He'd sat here for years, since he retired way back
No one saw him as he sat with the birds
He would say "hi" as the people went by
But, I'm sure no one heard the words

He was passed off as crazy, just a loon on a bench
He's a fixture that no one can see
And except for the birds and the Bodega's Jose
I would sit here and say I agree

One morning, downstairs, as the people passed by
John got up and went up to his place
The birds never left, they just waddled around
And the people went on with their race

The next morning, no John, no one down with the birds
He had died in his sleep in the night
But, the people passed by, never noticed him gone
And the birds, waddled round from their flight

He left nary a mark on the world he had left
He was mad, they said, but that was okay
And the people passed by, and the birds were still fed
By the new man on the bench called Jose.
Ari Dec 2011
I have come to conclusion
over sunpierced crust
brittle as tobacco leaf
astride mottled nag
scraggling on loose gravel
sandsoaked
saltsteeped
leadheavy in lid
past dactyled tracks
parallel cobbled macadam
wavering shale
lockjawed lava rock
fractured cobalt
lone juniper
forgotten scrub
open boil of tar and pitch
halfburied bones of leviathan
still shifting in the clouded boom
of stone
through grapeshot hail
adobed pueblos
thatchskinned women
and straw men
all witches
flaying the gila
pestling scale with cornmeal
and fermented mescal
desert sangria
hallucinating sideways in the murk
where coyotes yip
and each star a conflagration
mirrored in the captive eyes
of floundered meteorites
at the terminus
where sun and moon merge
I know the question
and response
from where do you come
to where do you go
serendipity Oct 2014
I remember

Being hungry
The people in the park that fed us for free
Our only place, our favorite place, next to you and our creek
Their dollars donated to our grumbling tummies
Yours to your next drink

I remember

Growing up wondering why love looked so painful
Why Momma cried when she kissed you
beds made under bridges
And not minding, cause we missed you

I remember

Your three best friends Jack John and jose
Momma fighting for us to see you
How she always found a way
Wondering why she was always blotched with bruises when you went away

I remember

A train ride to what turned out to be tomorrow
Learning to live a life that wasn't filled with sorrow
Looking into the eyes of a woman who hasn't seen her own dignity in so long
Realizing how much you really cost her
Hating myself for never catching on

I remember

Being 15 with daddy issues
In a lonely world a lonely girl
How could I still miss you?
Explaining to my brothers what I really takes to be a man
And stumbling cause I'd never really seen one
finally telling them if you love and always love, you'll always be one

I remember hearing your voice for the first time in years
Flash back ten years
"I'm gonna die someday" in my ears
I remember wondering what you were trying to accomplish
Daddy's little girl gets bed time stories rot with anguish

And i'm back to reality in time for " im sorry "
And my ten year old self "now you want me?"
So weighed down with questions I never got to ask, not knowing if there worth it
You never gave a ****, and here I am worried that your hurting

I guess naive is naive
And you either want to love or you dont
JOSE GONZALEZ Oct 2014
I believe my life is outside with me
I believe my cherished is counting on me
I believe my other half is hiding
I believe my everything is laughing
I DONT believe she will figure me out though
I dont believe she will find me
I dont believe shes looking in the right places
I dont believe shes gonna find me... But im excited!
YOU KNOW WHY?

Im only playing hide and seek with my daughter! Lol

                                                                                  ☝️Jose gonzalez
Jose Gonzalez Aug 2015
My Heart is parched and my Soul runs low of strength,
rumblings from within in hunger for Love.

I must ration myself as I journey alone,
keeping reserves of what I have to offer.

I carry seeds of love and devotion close to me,
  so they are not grown in haste.

I  store in carefulness of what is tucked away,
so not as to lose for what may be ahead.  



Does that me beggarly? A poor soul to pity? Soured by bitter drink?
No, for I am wiser in knowing of my travels,

To wait for the feast, of The Harvest of Love, when it is time.

Copyright ©  Jose Gonzalez 2015
Robert Guerrero Aug 2013
Sit me down at the bar
I'll take a Jacks on the Rocks
I need it strong
Stronger than you've ever made it
So make it a tall glass
I'll be here for a while

Hey bartender pour me another
Let me tell you why I'm here
I walked out of a church
I was suppose to get married today
She's a beautiful women
Smart, ****, Sensitive
Couldn't ask for a better woman
I walked out because I'm not marriage material
I wasn't meant to be a husband
Not to someone as incredible as her
She deserves a man
Aiming, truly willing to be by her side
Through the thick and sick days
I'm leaving to go to war
For a country that turns their back
On the men and women sacrificing
The things and people they love

Hey bartender
I'm going to need another
This buzz isn't strong enough
***** it put a little Jose Cuervo
He'll spice this buzz up

See bartender I may be a stupid man
But I know what's worth fighting for
She is worth every bomb exploding
Every soul my AR15 takes
I'll be the grim reaper in any country
As long as I know she is truly safe
I guess I should attend my wedding
The same way I'll attend my brothers funeral
Filled with sorrow and love
Another son is going to war
With a bottle and for a woman
A son that might never come home
The way she wants me too
MaryJane Doe May 2014
Hello

My Name

   It's Antonio
Montoya

   You killed my father

Prepare to die

     I say to the bottle

And you ask

     Why?

Have you not seen
  The Princess Bride!?

The for finged man
Killed his father!
  You ask me
  What's your point?

    I say

        It was Jose!

Who killed dear old dad

  As I drink from the bottle
       Your expression turns sad
& you pour out the rest
    Saying
  That's to bad
JOJO C PINCA Nov 2017
“Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.”
― Mother Teresa

May mga panahon sa buhay ko na nasayang, may mga darating pa siguro pero baka hindi ko na maabutan, tanging ang ngayon ang tangan ko sa aking palad. Sisiguraduhin ko na hindi ito masasayang. Gagamitin ko at pagyayamanin ang ngayon ko sapagkat ito lang ang oras na hawak ko. Magsusulat ako ng mga salitang matulain kahit hindi nila ito tanggapin. Kahit ako lang ang tunay na aangkin sa aking simulain. Kahit malalim ang dagat na aking lulusungin kapos man ang bait ito’y aking gagamitin at titimbulanin.

Walang yumayaman sa pagsusulat ng tula at ang buhay ng isang makata sa panukat ng lipunan ay laging salat. Pero wala na akong magagawa napasubo na ako, matagal ko na itong nilimot at tinalikuran subalit para itong isang sumpang anino na laging nakasunod ayaw akong tantanan. Mabuti pa ang nag-uulat sa radyo at telebisyon dahil may nakikinig pero sa sumusulat ng tula bihira lang ang lumilingap. Putang-Ina bakit ba kasi ito pa ang nakahiligan ko?

Siguro dahil dito ako sumasaya, kasi nagagawa kong bigyang tinig ang tahimik kong isipan. Bakit kasi hindi na lang ako naging payak sa lahat ng bagay lalo na sa gawaing pag-iisip? Bakit kasi masyado akong mapagmasid, mausisa at malikhain sa pagsasalarawan ng mga bagay-bagay? Bakit ayaw magpahinga ng aking diwa?

Hindi naman ako magaling sa tugmaan at sa pagkatha ng mga kinakailangang sukat kaya kinalimutan ko na ito. Pero may ulol na bumulong sa akin “ok lang yan may free verse naman e kung hindi mo kaya ipahayag sa tugmaan gamitin mo ang malayang taludturan”. Kaya ito nanaginip na naman ako ng gising at tinatawag ang sarili ko na isang “makabagong makata”. Putang Ina makatang walang pera at laging nangungutang. Buti man lang sana kung makukuha ko kahit ang kalahati ng tagumpay nina Walt Whitman, Amado V. Hernandez, Jose Corazon De Jesus at Francisco Balagtas o kahit na si Emilio Mar Antonio na lang – e tiyak na hindi naman.    

Kanina pa tumatakatak ang tiklado ng aking computer, ayaw ko nang magsulat pero may demonyo na tumutulak sa akin para gawin ito. Ayaw akong patahimikan ng putang-ina. Kaya’t heto ako at nagpupursige parin. Ang makabagong makata ay hindi na muling tatalikod sa tawag ng tulaan. Kahit walang pera magpapatuloy ako kasi dito ako masaya, masaya pero malungkot din. Ewan, madalas hindi ko maintindihan. Hindi ko na muling sasayangin ang natitirang oras ko.
Ileana Payamps Aug 2017
I am from VapoRub,
From Goya
And morisoñando.
I am from the traffic
And loud horns,
From the Caribbean heat,
And the city lights,
From the buildings
And the towers.
I am from the palm trees
And the coconut trees,
Dancing bachata
And merengue
In the beach,
From yaniqueque
Y plátano,
From tostones
And fish.
I am from Sunday gatherings
And loud family members,
From Jose, Maria, and Primos,
And the hardworking
Payamps clan.
I am from the
Madera’s baseball team,
From Canó, Sosa, y Ortiz,
From the long summer rides
To ***** Cana
And Samana’s beach.
From “work hard
Cause life is not easy”
And “family before friends.”
From Christianity
And Saturday morning sermons,
From God is good
And He brings joy.
I am from Santo Domingo
And Monción,
From Santiago
And Spanish ancestors,
From mangú con salami,
From rice and beans.
From the grandpa
Who owns the village
Surrounded by
Chickens, cows, and bulls,
From the business owner
And the well known uncles
In my hometown.
I am from the only flag
With a bible.
From the red, blue
And white.
From the most beautiful
Island in the Caribbean,
From Quisqueya y
Libertad.
I am from the
Dominican Republic,
The country that holds
The people I love and
Miss the most.
I am from the
Little Paris box
I keep next to my bed,
Filled with precious
Gifts and letters
That make me feel
A little closer
To them.
a little background

— The End —