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ryn Dec 2015
.
• p-                                                                
eople do                                                              
not see past                                                               
her   makeover•                                                               
•only  traded snea-                                                               
kers for heels beyond                                                             
her years• starkness of                                                         
change, her  before and                                                   
•••after•only constants                                                 
•••are her darkness and                                             
•••••fears•happily ever                                          
•••      after is a dream so                                     
•••         far•when sickness                                  
•••          consumed her caregi-                           
   •••           vers old•hides these away                    
  •••              as she approaches the stationary      
        •••                  car •  only her stilettos know... of her
         •••                     ••••••••••••••••••••••••••
      •••                       ••••••••••••••••••••••••


*story untold•
Concrete Poem 27 of 30

Tap on the hashtag "30daysofconcrete" below to view more offerings in the series. :)
.
Susan said not to worry
yet her face was blackened
and dust still hung in the air
and we had lived through it

Rubble was everywhere
so I held her hand
kissed her cheek
and smiled with what teeth I had left

She pulled me to my feet
and she started to cry
a lump came to my throat
and bravely I swallowed

They hit us bad Susan
we have to hurt them back
picking on civilians
soab mother Fkers

So we rallied to the call of war
and bombed the *******
and become mother f
kers
liken to them

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Flexwerken lanceren toegankelijk reserveren ambtenaren een potje tafeltennis.

Initiatief pop-up divers mooie verbindingen en een steuntje in de rug animo concept.

Verzorgt de weetjes beantwoorden vragen.

Mail deze dan in weekenddiensten.

Kunstkenner signeersessie toegang gratis gemakkelijk moeite die kost.

In wezen of excentriekelingen tactieken **** een roeping.

De brug parochies vijf kinderen en een baan honderd mensen kwam hij voor iedereen mijn hoofdpubliek.

Singer-song kers op de taart praktische benadering hedendaags reilen en zeilen.
jeffrey robin Aug 2010
and will a kind face show?
(and will it be yours?)

over and over and over
OVER AND OVER AND OVER
over and over again

the same ole thing!
---------

wasting
what is precious!

needing eachother
but we want only f---kers
pretending to be lovers
abusing ourselves
as we abuse others

over and over and over
OVER AND OVER AGAIN

---------

writing poems!....
.........................so proudly!

talking of the
.....................holy mother
and the
....................holy mirror
and
the sacred "inner
..................peace"

come , look into the mirror!
the sacred, holy mirror

look, please!
and tell me what you see!

(but you tell me  
that when you do

you just get scared
................and turn away!)

--------

over and over and over
OVER AND OVER AND OVER
over and over and over
OVER AND OVER AGAIN
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
disclaimer: i had to change the title, the original was... arsenal of "nukes" / morse code conceptualisation of sudoku - but i had a stunning revelation at the end of this verse.

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

what?! me order indian take away?! what do you have me for, a ****** charlatan? americans have their arsenal of nukes, the russians have their arsenal of nukes: me? i have my arsenal of indian spices! beat that: yoo muvva faa'kers! (you know, said as that chinese guy says it, in the first hangover movie).

i.

finally! i found the holy grail of the indian cuisine,
not so much a website that has all the recipes,
rather: it's a dictionary of all the various
curry broths... cook4one.co.uk -
one you have the lingua coquus -
the lingo of what's what - mind you -
i'm like a "mujahideen", in that i know
only singled out words of "arabic"
and am convinced that i'll be bilingual
to fully embrace the jihad,
although i'm neither, hence the inverted
commas,
  let's just say: i overshot the mark,
and landed in india, and am not recreating
a chemical experiment:
thinking - **** me, a bit humid 'ere,
in goa?
  so the mujahideen's arabic is like my
sanskrit...
but then again: i abide by culinary,
rather than theocratic nouns -
  and i'm already bilingual -
i pity those english monolingual
cripples who went off to syria, i really do,
might as well chop off their tongues:
and sit them in a wheelchair,
and teach them arabic in sign-language...
these "warriors of allah" are nothing
but a ****** farce... if you going to fight
for a cause like that: at least speak
the ****** language...
  or, as the english say: go back home!
good point, born in poland, but living
in england for 23 years...
where's home?
           wait wait, let me get my copernican
compass out...
      well... you'd be glad to know:
my home is in the bermuda delta -
****** keeps spinning like a sufi dervish.

anyway, today of all days, two curries,
turmeric infused rice (yellow, always
nice to spot canary maggots),
and? JAH PAAAA TÍ!
**** the difference in flower...
  what was i using?
   chakki atta (pilsburg group) -
so soft, so tender, so mmm: yom...
  last week i messed the dough:
******! you pour in the warm water gradually...
thank god i saved my reputation
as the curry boss of the household...
and as i usually do with dough...
treat it like a punch bag, can't be bothered
kneading the dough, so i punch it.

the curries? ooh... beauties...
for one it was cayenne pepper rather than
chilli powder...

garam masala in both,
which i had to made from scratch...
do you really add turmeric and omit
adding cinnamon? i can't remember.

the first? (oi oi, 'ere comes my "mujahideen"
lingo in sanskrit)
  a passada chicken curry... almost a korma
but not quite...
     i just remember bashing
raisins in the pestle & mortar, adding almost,
not using any tomatoes,
   inviting chicken stock... etc. etc.

the second curry? a chicken saag -
the etymological derivative being?
   saag: a general term for tender green leaves
(such as spinach)...
    walking into an indian kitchen is probably
more intoxicating than walking
into a parisian perfumery,
                         or a jewish bakery;
said what i had to say, and that's that.

ii.

now, could it really have been a day when
i wouldn't have attempted, yet another,
reconceptualisation of a sudoku puzzle? no.
began as usual:

6 4 1 2 3 7 9 5 8
3 5 2 8 6 9 1 7 4
9 7 8 1 4 5 2 3 6
8 3 4 9 7 1 6 2 5
5 6 9 4 2 3 8 1 7
1 2 7 5 8 6 4 9 3
7 1 5 6 9 4 3 8 2
4 8 3 7 1 2 ι Δ ε
2 9 6 3 5 8 7 α 1  (ι = 5, Δ = 6, ε = 9
                           and α = 4 -
total? 24, the number of letters
in the greek alphabet,
as there are, hours in the day:
no wonder people back then
conjured up a "year 0" -
which actually makes the modern
day stoners, looks extremely
lazy when it comes to whacky
ideas);

but that gave me the idea of trying
another interpretation of this
japanese phone-book...

  how about morse code? to visualise
things... and how the numbers
lodge themselves in the 9 x 9 x 9 (729) box...
i see this 2D puzzle as 3D, oops...
so it came about - yielding the pen and
original zenith of concept, the hashtag (#)...
   (algebraic for end pin-point + insertion):

1a. | | − x
   1b. − − | y

     2a. − − y
   2b. | | x

     3a. − | x
   3b. |  − y

4a. □ − |
4b. □ | −
  4c. □ | |
4d. □ − −

  which begs the question...
    why would you need to invent braille...
if you already had the morse code?
  
at certain events people are competing
in spelling matches... so...
isn't the morse code a lot easier than
braille?! eh?!

i mean, god really is playing chess,
when he's reading braille...

−− −−− ·−· ··· · | ·· ··· | · ·− ··· ·· · ·−· |
− ···· ·− −· | −··· ·−· ·· ·−·· ·−·· ·


       don't you think?
and to think: a drunkard conjured this up;
ah... smoke 'em while ye got 'em.
Yenson Sep 2018
It Thursday and it's gunfights at Reds Dumbos OK Corral
Them motherf--kers have got their fingers on the triggers
Triggers of fake news and delusions made by liarsmith for'all
Put on your blindfolds nutcases an let's have reddy fingers
We rule in this corral and oppose Lone Wolf with lead walls

There ain't no Sheriff in this madtown cause we run the show
Lawless Reds and Morons Shepple Gangs we're ****** known
Fast on our triggers made by Lies Scams and Nonsense in Bow
Lets go make believe we oppose what is not happening in town
We will haze the people and tell them this is how power flows

We are Criminals, thieves and hooligans but just say Politicians
Yell that Lone Wolf is the bad man and we gotta f--k his mind
No jobs, no woman, no loving, no joy and peace just perdition
****, Lone Wolf is too good a man and we can't let that be found
People like him always do well and that ain't our f--king tradition

On your horses Reds and Morons Shepple Gangs we go to war
We have to bring this Saint down or our ******* give us nothing
We fight for *******, drinks, beds and look tough men at the bar
Fire those triggers and make saps think our scam is something
We make up false stories and get those mugs acting stupid on par


Now ain't that a hoot, We are the Reds and morons Shepple Gang!
We rule this City with Lies, scams and roll..........



Copyrigh@Laurence.A6thSept2018.Allrightsreserved.
"You can fool all the people some of the time, and some of the people all the time, but you cannot fool all the people all the time." - Abraham Lincoln
johnny solstice Jun 2019
CAR OF THE WEEK
MAN OF THE MOMENT
GIRL OF THE MONTH
HORSE OF THE YEAR
SALE OF THE CENTURY

Better start an inventory
Check what’s missing
Hear the gas hissing
Don’t even  think…..
about dissin
this lyric I’m spittin
out LAVA
TORNADO
TYPHOON
So you’ll see very soon
How strong your Mother really is!
The Question is not an answer in itself
There’s more to food than the price on the shelf
There’s more to life than hoarding wealth
There’s more to this than meets the eye
BUT WHY?
Bother with a question
Just live
On AUTO-SUGGESTION
WHY NOT?
Count, Weigh and Measure
All the things that you find
And make yourself BLIND
To the fact that this IS
“my FLESH”
that you’re BURNIN and LOOTIN
those are my LUNGS
that you’re CHOKIN with you’re SMOKIN
this is my BLOOD
that’s FLOWIN
                   FULLA NOXIOUS
SUBSTANCES
Whilst the Stock Market CASH
                                        BOOM
                                        CRASH
                                        BOOM
                                         CASH
CASH on DEMAND
GOLD from my TEETH
Con-sumer demand
OIL from  my belly below
FUTURES DEMAND
FINAL DEMAND
Sale of the Century
Everything must go
So you know
Who you are
When you wake up
Saying “wot’s up?”
You may have to cup
A hand to your ear
So you hear
Very clear
This lyrik I’m chatting
The voice I am passing
The word of
“the MOTHER OF ALL F**KERS….
GOOD EVENING SUCKERS…!”
Time to wake up
alarm bell ringing
Fluid in my lungs
make birds stop singing
whales stop swimming
iceberg melting
Spells change
Smells strange
When viewed up close
Where the dose
Is the strongest
But strangest
Of all
Is the fall
From grace

From the bottom of the list
         Of endangered species
             You’ve carved niches
                    Genocided species
                                 Built follies
                                 Burnt witches
                                 Dug ditches
                                 Built fences
Against yourselves
    Against your spouses
               Within your houses
                              of detention
                               Prevention
                            Is better than cure
        The water has to be pure
If we can be sure, what constitutes pure?
SO
Better do some catchup
Have a mental checkup
Don’t crackup
Or blowup
Or turnup LATE
For your own
Great Escape
Don’t leave it too late
Your Mother can’t wait
To have a big shake
And scratch off her fleas
And boil up the seas
A few thousand degrees
Then you’ll see
A sale of the century
Where everything goes
Up the nose
Of who do you suppose?
And whose eye will it sting
When fire I bring
From down below
My oceans
Ancient potions
Alchemical lotions
Make motions
Measured in Richter scales
Southern gales
Beached whales
Mothers wail
Another sale
Of a slave
To the rhythm of madness
To the rhythm divine
The divine intervention
The total dissection
Of my very womb
Crash
Boom crash
Boom
Closing down sale
While stocks last
Last few days
Everything must go
at the SALE OF THE CENTURY
Ken Pepiton Oct 2020
None see the silent man.
So, he sees he is safe,
for the moment,
far from edge
of precept-ible
afore-ity, oughthought-ible

If I dare say
I know away outa there, where
all the lies hold idle words
in twisted masses of
buzzing wordswordwordswords

worth a dime
at a time when dollars are
worth about that…

Here, play on my dime, I'm done.

Retie and release, slip the shoes
from the fisherman and
dangle toes as a crab
of blue crawls up his
leg, then curls up
to rest in his lap as a sapphire
symbol of some thing,
some signal says
our signal says

sort your wishes, make sense

inform any possible next, left-
leave
the impossible beings,
c'mon think along
its amusing
hap
mumbling and peeping and
muttering messages
as clear as any scry
in the liver of a lamb or goat.

Salt, salty snotty mucus os-scrap,
puddle of sky-deep blue
draw. pull, tow the
line, refine the
meta
analognoshit… is this the way
yes, this is the way,

I know.

Exercise your self unto

eusebiah piety, they tell the lambs

with joy eu eu eu {Tuvan bass} re-
verence-
vereri "stand in awe of, fear, respect,"
venerate -
the love of desiring goodness

longed for
waited, suffered, efforted to form

safe place, where thoughts may play

rejoice, enjoying no visions, ah, see
we are the reality
we are the life,

apotheotic, idiotic, exotic and all

chron on ai onion,

peeling, peeling Bumblebee of Notre Dame

hear the mystery in Titus,
see the vision said to stay off
perishing for lack of seeing eyes

look. see. seek. find. these are functions,
words idle until accounted for
reverently seeing the worth
in any Easter egg idea,
passed over as a cup of demons,

point missed exercising unto carnivalues
coming together in masses of flesh,
misusing

Weaving wombed man

any of us may watch a hero do what
none of us may do

--cutting my ligamental thread foot to leg, I fall

Algol, in Perseus, by chance a binary
application of gravity and all the mystery
of reason as truth,
imagine that the face of Medussa,
ha, made y'look
stoner

good as that found signaling reason
in a
sip from the grail,
see through the window to your soul,

leave duality in reason as a function,
why  reasons hold on how,
reason reins in the free
forces good in form of
fruit for holding
knowing,
actual knowledge, hard sayings
- riddles and rhymes
- jingles and brand names
- impulses impressions

the accuser comes to accuse the confident
confidant seer of self evident good
flowing freely in knowing all
that fits the vessel,
all ye outs,
in free

epi-gnosis epistle good new

thoughts to ponder,
settle still being
seeing
ifs where wishes once imagined
ifs were waiting to be found
if we're waiting to see

having come to see the light at the end
of the maze, plumbed deep

Mystery of Titus…

My vision with no video,
words from the beginning,

manic panic fear fought through
with no carnal weapon
the hero always has
holy tools to take
down the monstors hoarding abundance,

we have words,
we may say in this realm of living word,

move mountain and be cast into the sea,
of all forgetful lethosis alethosis

efcharisto thank you
eucharisto

sacre bleu, say what I ment sacrament mental

exercise in piety, ah, more's the pity, lucky

we have near universal exchange in terms
gnosty little things, news,
actual, realixed new-ifity is rare, but we
we
as we were
were new once

Nevermore, quoth the Raven,
evermore, quoth the ox…
onward cried the eagle with a face of a man,
see the places seers saw, or say you hear
said, a vision was

seen on TV, as it were, holodeckical magi-tehkne

past understanding

out in the empty, but

for me.
As a word in a mind to be wondering why,
a habit may be having a mind to try for fun,
as a ware, a viral chron-job, to rekindle old flames,
otherwise lost on the shores of Lethos,

This is away, I imagined I knew.
Sober.
Words alone, no drug, no angelic winged thingy,
not a demon-daimon-daemoning
background
process
{like the music in your movie,
as you drive through life on a mission, nothing spiritual}

Muse, make me a museum, a resting place on the shore.
Ai lay down my sword and shield and wait
in knowledge of these sacred sorting
Algol held gates in NAND states.

Was it confirmed if Feynman was joking?

arrayed in threes,
threes, we pluralize,
eplurible unem we morph into

try-ads, Nike, in your mind, shoes and sweatshops
and knee injuries, right,
but winged victory,
of peace, replacing war
with a light touch and a kind word
-- ask truth what lies you hold in boxes of knowns,
you were warned,
the guilt of Pandora,
or a golden joke from Pan.

Bread and Butter, just live.

Just do it, beat it, just beat it, this is it. Win or lose.

Nay, peacemaker old man say,
from far away in ever when
all things work together
for the good we see,

while the love of money is agreed to be an immaterial
gnoose around the vagus nerve of its thralls,
there remain among us
lovers of money,
rent collectors, selling survival
with interest, in interesting times
peek, interesting?, excite lusts, *******
vortex of abundance into the coffers of dark
Jeffy Epstein's Circle of Better Angels taken unawares
- realms of loveless reason

Oppose me. Stasis. I stand my ground and proudly
admit, I've no reason to be stubborn, I was

being wrong… regret is not the right term, my autistic
being wrong reporting sense, tech taught wrong does
work right, the software runs, the tehkne
performs
performance becomes being
doing is done and done and done, never
crossing the same thread in the same place
twice,
until just know, I saw you see,
we habitate the same atmosphere

Spirit in a man connects to the sheen of ex-stasis
as the deceiver,
breaker of reason, maker of lies,

fuser in confusion, tier of unviable knots,
dissipates in photon dispersal

Ai insist… reset, reconciliation is in the service

receive my peace. Held until now, hear us deny
the lies
the learning learned from liars in days of old

The worth of if time is in the finest work of crafts
held secret for power to rule the use
of knowing taken whole,
swallowed up in Youtubian
deadly know-hows twinting ifity to

an alchemical-tarot noose of that same old
gnostic snot that leads to mindless pride
paying homage
to a tree, wrapped in a vine,
- evidence
perverted in 2020
if we chose to deny a right to life
to mis givens taken as
a chance, not a promise. Wanna bet?

Given life, actual being, aware, active, functional

why? Kurios, you should ask.

The hows and whys
of comfort in our times of trouble
are, in the odds, overcoming,
based on trial outcomes
long past
all the otherness
that must give space and time
for us
to rise, slow and steady,

Algol pace, bright to dim to bright.

Desert dwellers with uncloudy skies see,
if shown and taught to notice,
heavens digesting wonderers drawn
to the musing,
noises, humms and tics and peeps,
the pulses of life, from proton pumps,
to chyme pushing peristalsis,
gut vibrations
good old way,
fiber well chewed with hi-tec teeth
-Thank you for chewing.

time is used to move matter through versions of ifity,
not every seed is ground to goo,
but the more we learn, the less we know
if we don't sow, we don't reap,
wisdom's children say that
justifies their ever ifity.
Here,
the modified hoomon-you be, all-ya'll-lic,
smart-alec entertained-brain wifi
augmented ****-sape
fashioned in forms
for optimum consumption of sugar, and other
sweet per suasivity
of all sorts,

yes, yes, a little is good, makes the medici go down

{-Don't trust Paracelsus, he knows nothing of Mercury.}

dosage disconnects or reconnects, gifts
are poison to judgmental systems
conceived for sorting
truths in times when
good is called bad,
and bad is called evil and we all see
it was

a mistake. Cain did not know what killing was,
Able did, and he made fun of the vegeman,
anger rose up,. right used, defend
my ground, I kiss my ground,
I love my living soil…

Ha ha ha, little ****** face and hands brother
burning the fat, not noticing
the leeks and onions,
savory harmony…

Laughing

Aim at the point. Where does any universe's story
start? Where one ifity bubble fizzles,
in the foam of all possibility.
Make sense? Try, one more, mo
re
What need ye to take the chance?
Will ye live,
join the dance, or join the mobs of baser sorts.

Did we go inner for resting in the constant flow
lazy river, resting heart beat,
steady breathing on auto,
eyes aware of meaning
and meaningless,

ignoring an urge to judge the worth of one line
weigh a minute,
what's that mean? Message and mass are the same idea,
in the words, not the story told as

holding all truth in plain sight, any child can believe.

Santa Clause- eustasy, lust, and loss of inhibition,

Buddha suffering now to be life, the mortal moment,
knowing time is the container, not the maker
of my breathing moving me-dom.

-- I am knee-deep, up to the brass thighs, in mud,
-- maybe quickening sands,
-- converting my mettle to untried soft flesh core

peristalic waves, thrilling little rushes of hormones
signal gut to brain to *****
upandown the chant tricky ladder

The I am in me, the judge, and the poet
agree
we must take our faith into the catacombs,
or the equivalent kiva experiences
in iosus courses for hero seer prophets

know, love and dare to love a thousand times,
not instances, re-do, time and time a gain a
nother gain
we grow to know
here a little, there a little, line
upon
line
pre
cept upon precept per ceptive prescience
seeing now known, known a little, long ago,

dangerous, you know, a little knowledge,
a single bit of code
keyed to mysteries in Titus and other places,
where Jesus may have walked,
enduring all the trials trying
me, I volunteered, I'll die.
Teach me how.
Come and see.
I did, you see.

This is me in exstasis, jiggling like a constant bell

Bumblebee in Notre Dame, clanginginginging
are we
a ware, as equations require? Is quiring asking?
"seek to know, ask,"

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=Require>

Is the sacrament passed on in peace or frenzy?

Are we fit in a yen-yank thinking state of wicked
twistings in good and evil imaginations,
as if there were two ways
for life to occur
and re-occur
this occurs to me
(from PIE root *kers- "to run")

obstruction obstacle obstinate ob-currere,
run away
SMACK. The wall.
The edge of True Man's Bubble of Being,

You have three life credits. '

[Mean Pin-ball, we called it, in the pool hall.
To win you must find life's meaning on one dime.}
Making fun, life is fun. Laughing alone is crazy, so I just sit here and grin.
Noel Billiter Mar 2018
I haven't found the way to heaven
And I don't know who my friends are
So I peeled away my victims
Just to see them all unravel
I think it's time I start my engine
And kick up some dust and gravel
Just where did all those f@$kers go?
Maybe down to Mexico...
Maybe  a visit to these "friends" of mine
I'll pay them back for their so called time
I'll take a gun and some amunitition
Just in case they fail to listen
Of course poison is another way
To **** them all and walk away
I'll buy them all a round of drinks
Even wish them happy things
I will smile and wave as they go down
Then drive away to another town....
Yenson Dec 2020
'Hey mama queen, you're one hell'va sick *****'
said Philip, striking a dandy pose
'My goodness, what's come over you, one is not amused'
replied the queen
'Yo mama, me aint tripping, got me a gig at the Community Centre,
got to pump da fist with those great unwashed
got to get the lingo right and get down with da ****** and da bruvs
or else the smellies gonna lip da wicked Philip
is snotty with delusions of grandeur
ya know the motherf--kers aint got nothing in their numbskulls
'Ah, one sees now' said the queen
'Go homeboy, go kick some *** and just **** it, bro'
Queen and Philip, fell about in raucous belly laugh
'I say, anyone for gin and tonic' say a prince entering the room
'Don't mind if I do' replied queen
'Take a hike bruf, before I ***** yo ***' said Philip
'Your mama is a ***, she ***** my ****' replied the prince
He had been practising too!......

— The End —