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L B Jul 2018
An early evening gust
broke the back of the day's blaze
Still 90 degrees at eight
in orange haze
Sweat runs down my neck
Through the gorge between my *******
The wind lifts my linen shirt
runs its hands along my sides
reviving memory
of Forest Park
of a blanket in the grass

Where the pines trace
so many faces
Crackling popping kids
stolen matches, running
screaming victorious!
Blowing tin cans up with fire crackers
Bicycles, sparklers, fireworks at dusk
That whole afternoon
I spent hammering caps

Noise really makes us kids

Mom wants us out!
Gone! All of us!
No needs. No excuses!
No cookies! No slices of bologna!
“No more Kool Aid!
Out now!

That evening I tried
to dismiss the itchy sweat
of stupid-sister-Suzy-matching-sun-suits
at Gino's family picnic
When some kid
(I don't know?)
between the rigatoni and the sweet corn
Some kid
tosses a sparkler
into box of fireworks
I don't know?
whether to cry or laugh
I was pretty scared
Rockets going off across the lawn
and onto porch
Craze of colors through the trees
Some at eye-level horror!
But the sight of Aunt Nedda
diving under picnic table
Stockings, garter belt upended
Capsized beyond her caring
of uplifted dress

Some images just stay with you, ya know?

July 4th always lands for me
on a firework's ***
"Caps"  are little red rolls of gunpowder dots, originally made to give a snap to toy guns of the 1950s.  We figured out that by layering them and using a hammer, you could get a bigger crack.
There is a man who loves his wife,
but comes home late every night.
There is man who drinks,
Who has too much pride.
There is a man who has a life,
but sometimes wishes that he could die.
There is man who doesn't float, he only sinks
as he looks at a bottle with wide eyes.
There is a man who thinks of the afterlife,
but he keeps his children happy with pretty lies.
He smiles to the public, but fights a war inside.
Because a man is not what he thinks.
A man is the secrets he hides.
Madison May 23
Don't be sad, depressed or lonely.
"Follow me!" they say,
Belivieve us we will show
you the way!
The cures just an arms reach away!

Well joys just a little sniff away, you can even puff if you'd like!
"Look at you, all grown up!"
Depressions easy!
Meet the lips of a bottle to your own, till you forget you're down!
"I think you're getting it!"
And if you're lonely,
Just find another body to lay with.
"See! You can take care of yourself just fine!"

Oh honey they never tell you,
The sniff becomes necessary,
The drinking nightly,
It's only lust,
Never love.
but it's just a little to late,
You drank their Kool-Aid.
does anybody get the kool-aid reference?
KiraLili Jun 2015
My father is 69 now
But in my mind tonight
I see a man who is 30
1976 with slicked hair
Elvis side burns and fringed jacket
With Allman brother moustache
Western snap button shirt
Lee jeans and brown belt
KOOL menthol lit in one hand
Labatt stubby beer in the other
Father's Day was card games of crib
And Kingsford charcoal BBQ steak
LP records of  trucker songs
Kids gathered around in cut offs
Walking to get dad a beer on blue ****
These were before teen years for them
Banana seat bikes in the driveway
Lawn darts after angel food cake
No matter how many years pass
Every Father's Day I see the same
You'll always remember your dad
When he was at his coolest to you
1970s Dad
Rachel Aug 2015
he was the lie she breathe. he was the solitary confinement she never asked for. connected by an invisible thread of irregularities, they hid behind the fake mystery. a maze they tangled themselves into, with no end goal to speak of, they were left to wonder. she often thought to herself, how she came to be. she swore her sanity was in check before him, before 'this'...whatever the hell 'this' was. she swore that she wasn't herself. it must have been something she was on, some kool-aid of sorts.

she slept with one eye open, always watching over her shoulder. she became a stranger to herself, second guessing, building up her fortress, higher and higher. he gave her wings. wings that allowed her to touch the azure sky. wings that burned off all because she flew too close to the sun. a pretty gift glued together with sugar-coated lies, like icarus, she plummeted down.  the pavement is her best friend. the taste of the graveled ground she'd imprinted in her cranium. she became broken.

her loyalty was iron-clad. devotion written in her veins. she was like a scent he couldn't get rid off, oh how he wanted to be rid of her. and so he fed her what she wanted to hear, but send her on her way. she broke, cried, denied, went through the stages of grieve. she hardened her heart, swore no more. like a phoenix risen from the ashes, she spits out fire, ready to lash out at her enemies. words are her weapon, confidence is her shield. ammunition ricocheted off of her. she is renewed.
Inspired by a book I read.
"Having turned the machinery of the Gov't into
a corrupt process of getting bad press made on
his political opponents, the Bidens, by buying
false investigations on them by multiple Gov'ts,
must be impeached, now", say Dems, the people.

The impeachment investigation has received much
evidence to support it, yet, Rumputin/vlad-
the-impaler, who were illegally installed into
the Blackhouse after the 2016 election, are
stonewalling numerous other subpeonas, requests.

People have seen evidence of Donald's demanding
false investigations of the Bidens be started by
the Ukrainian President in exchange for already
allocated by Congress 1/2 a bill in anti-tank
'javelins', but not the unreturned voicemails

detailing his desires for the same 'quid pro quo'
by him to other nations, here's some.  The Donald,
'Hi President of Ghana, I've heard you have some
hellified kool-aid, if you investigate the Bidens
we'll buy 100's of tons, awaiting your call.'

'Yo, yo, yo, President of Liechtenstein, just
calling to let you know if you liechten the Bidens
and find some dirt on them, we'll buy a hundred gross
of your steins, this is time sensitive, top secret,
so get back to us a.s.a.p., pppppllllleeeeeaaassse?'

''Sup, President of Guyana, must be hot in Africa,
too bad for you, all kidding aside, I hear you guys
have the best kool-aid to die for, if you investigate
the Bidens and find dirt on them we'll buy 1/4 of a
bill worth.  Limited time offer, bro, sooooo holla.'

'President of Hungary, I've heard you guys are always
Hungary, so, if you want a 1000 tons of food 'b' alls you
have to do is investigate the Bidens, find dirt on them
and provide it to the Steve Bannon set-up Hungarian fox
news who'll broadcast it globally over the next year.'

The atrocities of it all is all the people can say.  Does
this feel like a Greek comedy/tragedy to anyone else?  A
quickie impeachment to cover-up the bigger Russiagate one
that indicts the whole of the republican conspiracy, just in
time for vlad, etc., to hack our next presidential election?
Hello, my name is         and I live in           .  I'm calling my (Rep./Sen.) to share my support for Trump's first impeachment (that has been going on for many months already), over his organized crimes him and his campaign did; which resulted in many convictions already.  Can I count on you to move with speed and purpose to defend our democracy and hold Trump accountable by telling everyone the first impeachment process must be continued with all haste?  For it's much more egregious in terms of crimes committed, etc., so, it's far more likely to result in impeachemnt; whereas the new impeachment process is more of a 'he said, he said' thing, where one whistleblower's truths are contradicted by numerous republican liars- and probably won't result in actual impeachment.  Proof, "Moscow Mitch"'s playing at possible support of the new impeachment process is a clear indication that the republicans are certain it will fail.  Then, even if Nancy 'Chamberlain' Pelosi allows the original one to restart, or get most support, it will not be completed in the House before 11-2020, the Presidential election.  Then the dinos will have successfully re-installed RumputiN/vlad-the-impaler into the Blackhouse (by conspiring with the illegal invisible coup, Russian, Gov't, global hackers, wikileaks, Assange, etc.); just like they did in 2016.  We must stop this by having full force behind the original impeachment process; now!  Thank you for your time.   reality
Patrick Austin Oct 2018
My backpack ready for anything, I left for a voyage across the pond. As fellow passengers climb aboard I met a 27 year old traveling musician named Russ carrying his cajòn. He told me of his travels from Massachusetts and pending divorce. We related on this and exchanged CD's. Behind us sitting on the Ferry were two young girls working on a puzzle. Russ imposed himself and tried to impress them with his musical endeavors. These girls were in America from Germany attending college. One was 17 and the other was 18 but I am sure they knew better than to play into his hand. After talk of language and culture we disembarked. Russ invited me to his show that night but I had plans to meet a girl at a board game pub. I walked to the bus stop while smoking my pipe and caught the number 40 from downtown to a trendy neighborhood up north.

After I stepped off I found myself amongst the overgrown players of games and drinkers of fine beer. Brittany arrived and we chatted over IPA's. I explained my recent challenges to get the topic of divorce out of the way before we left for Mexican food. She was very open in saying I should play the field and not have a serious relationship. I agreed with her take but could not read her as well as I had hoped. She said I need to get the rebounding out of the way and explained that she too is struggling with commitment. Being 34 with no marriage or children under her belt she feels that therapy is essential to figuring this out.

We walked to our happy hour destination and shared Nacho's while drinking "Colorado Kool-Aid". Both of us having spent a lot of time in Denver we could relate on much but I felt there was an elephant in the room. Afterwards we walked to a nearby record store and browsed while talking about music and interests. She needed to leave soon having obligations to housesit and watch pets. Dog walking is her profession since her departure from the world of corporate accounting. We walked to her unkempt sedan and she gave me a ride back downtown. We talked of hanging out again but our schedule may not permit for some time. I wonder if she will entertain my company without reservation, only time will tell.

I decided to phone my old friend from Denver who lives near and devise another plan for the evening. The sun was still shining and I had no reason to return home yet. I walked to a nearby brew pub while waiting for him to meet me. I sat at the bar with another traveler named Dave. He is an airline pilot close to retirement from the state of Texas. We talked about my time in the Navy and my pending legal woes. He's been proudly married for 30 years and counts his blessings that he is still in harmony with his wife. My friend decided to meet me at a concert in close proximity to my date with Brittany. Once again I would take the number 40 uptown. Dave bought my IPA and gave me words of encouragement and complimented my persona. It meant a lot and I thanked him as I said goodbye.

While waiting for the bus I asked for information from a woman in her early 50's. She works for a tech company nearby but was happy to help as I had a more pleasant vibe than most of her young, urban, unprofessional colleagues. While unsure of my way she directed my move to get off at the next stop. I walked up the hill another seven blocks to the show. While smoking my pipe along the way another bus rider was two steps ahead named Nate. He was curious about my pipe tobacco and we gave brief anecdotes about ourselves. He offered to buy me a quick beer before my concert. I took him up on this offer as we walked into a nearby market. He purchased several large cans of domestics and afterwards we headed back down the dark boulevard towards the Abbey drinking our brew. As I arrived at the former church venue we parted ways peacefully.

I ventured into the bustling scene concealing my open container while finding my friend. I sat just as the opening act started. We enjoyed three musical performances but the star of the show was the beautiful woman from Denver that we both enjoyed during our time there. Feeling that we should explore the venue where Russ was performing we made our way there. I was sad to discover the brewery was shutting down before 10pm and the band was long gone. We decided to walk to the nearby singles bar playing music so loudly it could be heard from a block away. This strange place was crawling with many folks of the beautiful sort but nothing seemed to be attractive about it. We had a glass of wine and a shot of bourbon. I spoke to the fellow DJ for a moment but there was no dancefloor to be found. We decided to venture on.

We walked up and down the avenue and discovered another Mexican food restaurant, beaming with the young and the foolish. Our community seating was met with overly affectionate couples to our left and valley girls to our right. Our Tequila mules hit the spot with our Nacho's and late night platter. The girls spoke of Denver people which I thought strange. Why so much co(lorado)-incidence in one evening? I injected myself into the discussion and was met with friendly conversation. Unable to finish my Nacho's I knew I had fulfilled my share of fun for the night. This was the fourth time I had eaten nachos this week. We proceeded back to the urban adventure wagon and made our way to the slums of the tech-boom. My 2am slumber was met with an air mattress of great quality and woolen blankets.

I awoke at 7am to the clouded sunlight peering through the sliding glass door. I laid awake with my stomach turning from the many Nachos not yet digested. My housemates called me about needing to move my car for restriping the parking lot. Fortunately I left my keys so they were able to do this for me. I smoked my pipe on the patio while my friend "hit the gym". When he returned we decided to walk through the arboretum by the university and enjoy the sunny autumn day. Afterwards he dropped me off by the ferry where I waited an hour drinking beer at the commuter dive.

During my ferry ride home I walked up and down the passenger compartment looking for a fellow rider to play cribbage. I had no such luck and headed for the observation deck. While the city vanished behind us I struck up a conversation with a young lady from Manchester who had just returned to living in the US. We talked about the nature of selfies and the conflict of living in the moment. As we spoke a man approached me who had overheard my request for a card game. We walked back inside and sat next to an abandoned puzzle with pieces scattered about the deck. Mark introduced himself and we shook hands. It was not until he shuffled and dealt the cards that I realized this 45 year old Asian man only had one arm. His ability to shuffle and deal was impressive. His skill with cribbage was more than rusty, after one game I had a victory so great I felt guilty. He too is going through divorce and seeking a new job. It was a great way to pass the time with a fellow passenger.

As I readied myself for the porting I noticed a familiar face, a young sailor I served with in Mississippi. Our time spent together was met with sorrow as we faced similar career challenges. I had not seen him for several months but he almost did not recognize me. I had lost 50 pounds, left the Navy and become single all in a matter of a few months. I assured him I was on the dawn of newfound joy and wished him luck on his upcoming deployment. I patted him on the head as he seems like such a lovable scamp to me at this point. I exited the terminal to saunter back home. I smoked my pipe while crossing the bridge enjoying the last hour of sunlight.

I settled my belongings at home while serving myself a can of chili and a cold IPA on draft from my housemates tap. I joined him for the end of a baseball game in the den and shared a few moments with my community. I slept for a couple hours and then made my way to work. So much can happen in a day.
Not poetry, but what is life, if not poetry in motion?
Seb Tha Guru Nov 2018
Thinking you’re the man and the plug like you’re kool.
Until your kids and family are getting followed home from work and school.

Better get up on your night job.

Some will press you and not even want your work.
Just want to see if you're about it.
From the dirt.

They're putting my brothers on a shirt.

Not even in a casket or a Hearse.
They’re getting cremated, not even given back to the earth.

It's making me question my worth.
So I medicate.
When I should meditate.
How much for our souls?
That was even the intro for my mixtape.
And lately I've been falling out with friends so it’s hard to take.
Some can but most can’t relate.
These days there’s no need for a debate.

Experiencing and talking from this perspective couldn’t even make me whole anymore.
But, I’m still around.
I smile, learning to love what’s mine.
I guess it’s true what they say.
I now know that love is blind.

But never mind that.
We're back on that player ****.
Heart jaded.
Hanging wit the homies and getting hell of faded.
Intoxicated love.

I drove around the block twice, just to find somewhere park.
I stumbled, trying rush and get ahead of my already lucky start.
Acting dumbfounded but yet I’m smart.
I'm learning to be top shelf, and put myself on the chart.

However now,  I no longer care.
Stay in the house, and grow out my hair.
And truth be told all along, I was fully aware.

Trying to become the best poet.
However, my self esteem doesn’t show it.
While I took this time to write a new poem so no one, not even myself could quote it.

So now I read with my head down.
But after this, again I will lift it.
I had a conversation with fans, and they told me I was gifted.
Now look at all this weight that I done lifted.
Andrew Mar 2018
One day I met a titular telepath
That made me do social math
After I took a brief bubble bath
Underneath his heavy hovercraft
That submerged my brain
Allowing no sign of refrain
Only the pain
Of the stain
Of his Rorschach test
Filling inside my crest

You cast a spell of thought on me
When you walk by so haughtily
I can't think
Only drink
Your Kool-Aid
Of a fool's blade

It should be considered a crime
The way you control my mind
I feel so pointlessly paranoid
And it's not the ****
You travel to an abysmal void
I just follow your lead

I live in a world of mass media
But you cut off my streaming
So I guess I won't be seeing them
And I can focus on dreaming
Of an amazing life starring you
And introducing happiness
I don't care how it's reviewed
The critics negate sappiness

I'm so afraid you will get rid of me
While I sit under your guillotine
That can't reach me in your grasp
But if I ever leave it'll be in half
I'm trapped in a precarious position
That I fear will carry us to collision
I put my ear to the ground and listen
For an approaching stampede
That will steal my cognition
Will those wildebeest thieves
Make a deadly incision?
Andrew Feb 2018
There's an apartment filled with drugs
Somewhere in the past
Where I'd roll around on my rug
With a body of little mass
I was malnourished
And felt like a tourist
I protected embarrassing ****** desires
And felt like I couldn't speak
I thought I'd stay silent until I retired
But the pressure got too deep
I was afraid of what they think
And the Kool-Aid they drink

I made mistakes
And tried to act straight
I felt fake
Which engendered hate
My friends stopped seeing me
After I stopped being me
When everything got too cold
I reached out for somewhere to hold
And grasped a syringe
To erase my cringe

I didn't sleep on a pallet
Or get beat by a mallet
My parents loved me
Isn't that lovely?
I felt pain all the same
I felt like I had fame
And everybody was watching
And grenade launching
I tried to foolishly avoid it
Which proved to be ineffective
I thought drugs might destroy it
Which led to countless injections

I've seen interesting things
Like wives selling rings
To be drug dealer bling
And the constant scheming
Of the get-rich-quick dreaming
These events become boring
After you see girls *******
And homeless people looting up
And pregnant women shooting up
And pulverizing police pulling up
The difference becomes starker
Once things get even darker

My life had no worth
Back and forth
Between rehab and relapse
So much time had elapsed
Life became about learning how one thing leads to another
Like a caring mother who gives birth to two brothers
One is of use to society
For he has proper propriety
The other is a poet
But doesn't know it
He can carve out a peaceful existence
That can be his righteous resistance
He needs to be nurtured
By someone he collides with
Somewhere in the future
At a location to be decided
We drank the kool aide
fist  pumping to the latest
Pseudo avante avante
Guarde ruse
Proclaiming we were
already there-
that there was something we knew
but could not explain
Something like Jesus

But definitely not Him
You were either cool
or you weren't
A perfect defense
No problem
This was the end
terribly groovy
An absurdity that could not
be factored-
And wow we were there
At the end and it
Was a joke
Way beyond the Beatles
Beyond apology
Like the grasses we were
Obedient only to the wind
and the fire
and the air
was full of the sounds  of
the crackling of
An inaudible laughter
Bob B Sep 26
Finally, you did it, Congress!
WHAT took you so long?
For almost three years you've dealt with a man
Who doesn't know right from wrong.

Lying to us and abusing his power
Since day number one,
The man has wreaked inordinate damage.
Can it be undone?

Asking a foreign power for help
To win the next election
Shows how his impropriety
Is carried out to perfection.

Of course he'll scream, "Witch hunt! Witch hunt!"
That's his usual ploy.
He'll play the martyr to his fans
And be the whipping boy.

His team's composed of so many lackeys
Nearly as base as he
Who are willing to lie to protect him
To the nth degree.

Some people were slow to come
On board the impeachment train.
Now the momentum ought to be
Easy to sustain.

Will Trump receive support from his toadies
In Congress? You bet he will.
Although they’ve drunk the Kool-Aid, they
Haven’t had their fill.

There are members of Congress who
Never will condemn
Trump’s devious behavior! Well,
Shame on all of them!

Hop on board the train when it
Reaches the nearest station.
It’s for the sake of all of us that
It reach its destination!

-by Bob B (9-26-19)
Ivan Brooks Sr Aug 2018
Two-tongued and long,
Slander and smooth,
Naked and wicked.
Moves hissing,
Delivers kisses of death,
With tongue flicking.
A revered reptile.
Lives in dead piles of woods
In trees, and deserts,
The cold earth's hugger
Crawls like nature's gymnast.
Never has he ever laughed
Never made any friends
Never trusted by anybody.
Sadly he has a king,
Black like me
But has no soul
he lives in Africa
And in parts of Asia
He bites and hisses
But I don't bite
only on my food
He doesn't chew.
I do, and I swallow.
Him, his preys whole
I despise him.
I have many reasons
He social-engineered his ways
Around Adam"s woman
One day, he ****** eve up
With smooth lies
What this even implies,
Empirically, logically,
I really don't know,
All I know, I was told!
Hold on, I know not
From whence it came,
  Maybe from the good book,
That's a Long and twisted story.
It says he used his tongue
Not on her as a woman,
But to break her home.
Adam was a **** fool,
To leave that girl home alone.
Unannounced, he came in kool
Using his double tongues.
Was she kinda blind?
He isn't even cute.
This story I can't refute
Yet millions have concurred  
I'm not a friend.
Not of the story.
Of him, the notorious,
The venomous
The infamous heel biter
Once again, I hate him
Never was a friend
Never will be,
Because of that poor woman.
He's the First home breaker,
Frickin' liar
Cursed by God
His head to be severed
Using a sword,
A stone or stick,
Day or night,
Right or wrong,
Because of poor little eve
Adam's kids will strike
At his tiny little head.
Death to the serpent!
Eternal condemnation
Even if he repents,
Strike his elongated body
With a double-edged cutlass.
Don't you ever feel sorry
For this sorry ***.
Chinese add him cooked
segments by segments to curry.
He has no class
He Kills at will.
I hate him very much
And I do have my reasons.
He's the infamous snake
The symbol of evil
Father of confusion
With evil intention
Perpetual guide
To eternal hell
From the garden of Eden
Who gave Eve a heartbreak.
He's toxic and venomous.

Trying my hands at creative ways to freestyle usins fiction and humor
nvinn fonia Dec 2018
what/====/what  ==
  here, it is a tar pit  the yellowed trees all that eyes  see cherry blossoms through &through cherry blossoms  cherry blossoms through and through and through  cherry blossoms through
   it soothes- -it becomes blooms -it becomes blooms ---it becomes blooms ---recantations  reconsecration
so many many ages ago,  “probabilities man probabilities”
that’s about itt, man, it seems“similarly“,,,,, noww nowwthe drudge  magenta!noww, man-about time
as i knoww itt” well for once “ once  so pretty  ” she-says -cohorts
justt a dayy more we are closer-hippyhippy-hopp
the  best off linens the blue coats the finest frivolities all that  is pristine pristine-here/Jesuits
a sea of happiness in here everything
a well laid dining table a desk to write read eat a tree outside the never ending vanity fair “that  the magic will live  never will die
cause it’s automatic for people”says-Scot  it is really  automatic-now

“ patterns  emerge   as my prime whiter s,man”----tells,Joe

cups of tea-  chamomile- tells Jon/ mayb  “as much as you will like to mingle/&dangle-&mingle /double dribble/triple./Onegin //all the  wriggling the  implausible imposing    ,, nibbles ,,all the book keeping
“the classic anecdote” iff i mayy ... we are all  only supercilious  there’s more here to come”----Jim,, retorts tells
“to which i may”,tells jill    a sheep is _, its all gloom and  kingdom comes
   reasons /and acuity/  th more the merrierer   my bliss/slits
/ & the black space everywhere in
   them the/many minds   all the more   \><citadel.come and go touch of gold   see to believe  
  <    deep blue lakes &blue that  never end their rune and it  returns  a ship on her chest a ship on her chest,on her chest-that i will reach places un dreamt of
\   will   returnn  > there. everyplace tea<>>>>\
   stays afloat,    dispels /beaten /scowls  scary ,tea<>>>>\all-of jiggling/ bouncying   ><weeds out / >minuscules
ripes/renders jesica>>>>jamboree  come face me.
     the grandest / all  the oddities   one magic invention i was missing all this time transgression/ kindda may be timid /  
  my jive / rruby/mouthing a last supper if you will .something akin
   timid all this time
  wt i was endless immeasurable the - wild/beckons/ ribbons and knots
door to door tropic  day/&night; /beckons// ribbons and knots
\i  was i would  on my side Ausual-revival Arendition again  again
and  lifee-like -ride  and whatever moreover all oveer the leftovers
rose swells . fine  our grasslands,you know, stilts frantic Jiving,Jiving Jiving in smoke  -reels/incapabl,,indecicve
one more dayy nd through h moors
are off ,,,, raspberry,Jiving,Jiving Jiving
discontent  / neatt/  mother  fuggazii ,Jiving,Jiving Jiving ,a week goes ayb a month a long intention, itt- sooths./all the more oegin \Gerianne- ,,twitces  .astute, many floors up,pigging cleaning,every quarter
the clouds/massquadre ,this is cat to,, through ,,moved,moved,,moved

, a-blue,, a-temple a bloom,a ,temple a rook a trek a stoop now
Buddha, a simpleton/buddah geriane 16-1-5-1, miniature lamps,,blizzards6-1-5-1,
all that can in a man/rigour all that hula hoop
possibly a merry christmass,, dayys spent ,,,  full
you  are all that is sire a \ all the pleasures off a small room
full off all the kool tools an art decoo sire by now you know it
all thecrystal fairies in blue crystall *****
pretty slick,,,runs ,piping hott ,, undone  &the; buddha, the-rider,, the- boxes,,,layaway the glistering the beaming, all  the book keeping
a philistine, if i mayy impeccable, and  free
glitters all  the hourrs,a\ repliccaa just a beguiling  taste ,\
,sire,,little empty purposely,, masterfully done,,,sire
beefy ,,sire,and, plenty-full surelyy
the nectar bequeaths

projected .mediocre , mister faires in ferries  shimmering  dearest of stories  / wings/reminising _faires
drool  an artt decoo sire,,,a purple tea *** in which we drink our tea,,,mirrors,,, the very best in the pristine
the mannequins,,all the more-buddha,the-rider,, the- boxes,,
,,sire iff only i may all that   hula hoop.dope-slopes -keystrokes -rabbi=ed folks we traversed   alone
among the ******* faires shining.and whineing
tee -hometown alleys too,the innate shufling,  neat //pique
   from,treetops,bellhops,  all  those-pitstops
   chit chats-flips flops flat-crapp
lemonade/the charade the bee all the hives-all
handmade kind of  dreams /transpicuous
**** you would knoow you would knoow-that anyway blinking/ slits . //slithers
leaping/ reaping/ leaving all blue //eyes bulls eye

archic // mine  !all blue //eyes----  eye leaping/ rearing/
leaping/ reaping/leaping/ rearing/leaping/ reaping/leaping/ rearing/

and now the mother  a finale-  ( )   grand //tiers ;piping ;deep-dives................
-clean-off beat -best kept thatt  allures us //still gilding  top -down.  in
fairies   delusions/- 2rapid 2rabid distracted
comes easy free /  -******
a cup of tea/honey -man i know  with it  /// batteries  jazz like   *******
time and time againn pronto sire
wired tried intake-uptake /cup cakes/hatted  /// orbs many many many kinds justt soo many soo many  many
  any takers in no hurry
left /blending/mended melting too which she says enough off all this shenanigans i want //if this is
The Poet Tree Oct 2018
What was your very first thought when you woke up today?
Did you stretch eyes closed, stretch,
Behind closed lids look up left or right,
Morning Creek, snaps, cracks,
loosening those joints stiffened overnight,
Did you stretch, eyes closed, deep breath, big morning smile,
Or sit up, sigh, eyes open, lay back down for awhile,
I sit on the edge of the bed while my mind starts to reboot,
rub a hand over stubble, mental note to shave,
Maybe, I can probably go one more day,
Do you, like me, now pick from column B, or coulumn A,
Take my morning constitutional, hmm, cereal or fruit?
Still haven't moved yet, but I have changed hands, not rubbing my face,
I'm in my Thinking man's stance, sitting though, on the edge of my bed,
Time to start moving and out of my head,
Like that's gonna happen, my brain doesn't take breaks,
Whether I'm studying psychological pathology or which flavor kool-aide to make, of course, grape,
Which reminds me, I need to go to the store, I need real food in the house,
Man, I don't feel like going to the grocery store,
7-11 is gonna cost so much more, throwing money away,
It is closer though, what the hell, three days to payday,
Okay, now what was I, that's right, bathroom time,
Grab my phone, I know you gotta go Gunner, my dog, but get in line,
I'll end this before the lavatory, that's just, I couldn't do y'all that way, anyway,
What was your very first thought when you woke up today?
i've waking up earlier and earlier
each day, and getting to sleep
earlier and earlier, too,
nothing forced, i'm just
shedding my usual
night-owl tendencies.

and my body still aches,
and it's hard to move,
but i don't have to
force myself out
of bed as i have,
even when i was
sleeping from 10 am
until 5 pm most days.

each day feels
like a magical
saturday from my
youth, when my dad
would take my brother
and i for neck trims at
the barber shop, a place
of mystery and magic,
with men waiting in chairs
for hours, perfectly content
with no mobiles to stare into
like one hypnotized. they'd
talk about stuff beyond my
understanding, magical
things, like politics,
crops, and always
how much rain was
in the forecast... and
the perennial problems
with the wife
, and many
more topics i'm sure all
went well over my 7 year-old
head, but that i loved to listen
to anyways, almost a foreign
language to me, magical
grown-up talk, a
language that i
wanted to learn
myself so badly,
but i just loved
the noise of it, too,
a world of men among
men, and all the conversations
would bleed into each other
and combine into the most
wonderful cacophony,
a grumble-fest symphony,
sometimes heated, but
usually not (people
seemed to be able
to disagree without
so much vitriol as
they do today on
social media...
maybe that face-to-face
communication with ideological
opponents is what kept people
more decently human to
each other...)

i knew i didn't belong to
this club, but i also looked
forward to rummaging
through a big old wooden
shipping crate filled with
well-worn golden age
comics (they'd be worth
a veritable fortune now),
not supposed to touch the
men's adventure magazines,
but still intrigued as i'd flip
the odd one open, to bettie page-like
photo spreads that were near scandalous then,
women *******, or wearing leopard-print bikinis,
swinging from vines like the old tarzan serials
i'd watch when we'd get home, along with
abbot and costello movies, and the little rascals,
and ma and pa kettle (this was before american
television arrived, so cartoons were something
i only saw staying at my grandparent's ranch,
real close to the border, along with the peterson
, from a magical land called north dakota,
a place different than going to the states,
when i thought minot was = to the states,
a place i loved to visit, with the little island
in the swimming pool at the ramada that
i could never quite swim to as a wee one,
but loving that i couldn't because it
meant my dad would carry me on
his shoulders to it, on our annual
trek in august to get new clothes
for school that we couldn't get
at home; the only part i hated
was being stuck at the border
for ages because of my dad's
then still east german citizenship)

but anyway, those photo spreads
in the men's adventure magazines
would be considered even
almost embarrassingly tame by
modern standards, but sneaking an
odd peek was part of that barbershop
experience, like that strange
smell of barbacide, and me
wondering why all the combs
were in flasks of blue kool-aid.

i loved it all, i loved that glimpse
of a world i knew i didn't
belong to yet, especially
the mysterious world
of politics that would later
shape so much of my career,
but with this full reassurance
that i would belong to it
someday... though by the
time i was the age that
i could speak intelligently
on those subjects, Bob's
Barber Shop
was long
gone, the new police
station having taken
away that entire
block; i also didn't know
at that age how quickly
the world changes, ever
faster now it seems.

but i feel that sense of
wonder again at the world;
it's a cliche, but i can't wait
to get up and get going and
do whatever needs doing,
and a lot of things that are
purely optional, to take on
this world, not in confrontation,
but with that same wonderment
that i lost somewhere in childhood,
one of belonging to something
bigger than myself, or my family,
or my school, or church, part
of something i didn't know
the name of, society, though
coffee-row is long gone now,
there are still vestiges, where
people aren't glued to tiny
lcd screens, and still talk
to strangers about anything
under the sun if you look
for those places hard
enough, there are pockets.

in fact, there's a new barbershop
in town, and i've clipped my
hair myself for many years
now already, but i'm going
to go get a neck-trim today,
or maybe a mohawk just cuz,
and discover what the barber
and i might find to talk about
(maybe even politics, crops,
and the weather), and then
take my dog for a long walk
with my 1950s classic tele, and my
pignose, and my mini tube screamer,
and just play while we walk in
happy valley, or connor's park
along the moose jaw creek,
but however the day plays
itself out, it's already a
beautiful and magical day.
and i have a feeling i
have many more
or these to look
forward to, with
this new-found
once-lost sense
of wonder
at anything
and everything
in the world
of my small
prairie town,
and the freshness
of a new springtime
outside and inside.
it's an awesome day just to be alive;
gratitude, optimism, and willingness,
poring out of every part of me.

wilco - muzzle of bees
U R Won
Now R U?


tsuJ Kool
A Bit
Turning off the IDIOT BOX.

Can’t stand the inane WISHY-WASHY CHIT CHAT,
Or the HANKY PANKY of extremists on the left and right,
Who ladle out FAKE NEWS-laced Kool-Aid,
To their ZONKED-OUT viewers who gleefully consume it,
While nodding through glazed eyes.

It’s OPEN SEASON on the truth by DIRT BAGS,
With journalism degrees inventing rather than reporting the news.

Bring back old-school broadcasters like Cronkite and Brinkley,
Who personally leaned left and right but reported the news.

When news and commentary are no longer indistinguishable,
In all the networks, I’ll tune back in.

I posted this today at in response to a ten-double-word challenge where a poem had to be written using all ten double-words capitalized in the poem. Did not take much thought . . . :)
King Tutankhamun Aug 2018
I'm a Kool g rockin' coogis poppin' coochies
Haters get murked like Colhese my rap lease
Debutin' numero uno the heavy weight sumo  
Born on Jupiter raised on Earth my heart's colder than Pluto
Mic judo flows stickin' of ya corticals
Check me in the articles I be the broken particle
Of the universal ya need rehearsal **** goin' commerical
I lay raps like a hearse flow for rappers funeral
I a criminal none keep gats by the abdominal rhymin' phenomenal the mighty Apollo
Blazin' my cocoa flippin' crime like Bardellino
One luv to my nino got it locked like a Vegas casino
We checkin' ya dough at the front door so stop ya show
Fronting and stunting once my nines get the hunting
Bullets spikin' like kickers punting raw taunting
Game hungriest similiar to the lochness
Mon-star far from subpar rhymes ride bizzare
A pharcyde takin' ya into a spiritual homicide converged to the angelic hide

Still a crime shame all of 'em say the same
Thing flexin' diamonds on they pinky rings yet another sad soul that sings sub siblings
To the underworld debators contract initiator so you can create a
Pace between the stage and the audience face
**** that rather keep a gat tucked in the front or the back
With wisdom to rack
Imagine that fools breakin' for stats? see where my heart at?
Diggin' reachin' into the minds of the youth with the brutal truths
Chippin' my tooth
From killin' booths once I plot ya will ya loose
bringin' the ghetto blues and cruising *****
Still a sober jealous God am I call me Jehovah
Tactics of a Cobra one strike it's over
Venomous ridiculous hataz so conspicuous
Hatin' us only to anger my artillery surplus and who bust?
More rounds than Matt Dillion coatin' ya brains
With my lyrical penicillin stealin'
Back the spotlight
Catch the bright sunshine that stares into my mind
A Pharoah prophecy laid in the back of me
Head til I touch my final resting bed I'll embed
The realist **** ya ever heard shooting a bird
To all my enemies I blast at 'em with as the bullets herd
Ivan Brooks Sr Nov 2018
At school
I wasn't too kool
And I wasn't tall
And Didn't know all.
In statue, I  was short,
But yet I fought.

On the playground,
I joked around
But I wasn't a fool
Always kept my cool.
When I got beat on
I made peace and moved on.

I came from a community
Known for poverty,
Yet mama tried.
At night she cried
Asking God to bless us
And help us to focus.

Mama was the bone of my family
So she woke up very early,
Papa had a side chick
So his moves were quick.
Back then I didn't know,
Everything was kinda slow.

On the field, I was a defender
Who didn't spare my own brother.
On my team, I played number two
No matter where, when or who,
I always defended my position
To me, it was part of my mission.

As a kid, I loved to go to church
Even though we didn't have much,
Yet Mama pressed my Sunday's best
Just so I could fit in with the rest.
At church, I prayed to my savior
For our hardship to be over.

On the streets, we had big bothers
Who protected us as our mothers
So we never went astray.
For this we had to somehow pay.
For good street education
And a guaranteed protection.

As a kid I had peace of mind
To my peers, I was nice and kind
So it was until the advent of war
I left home and went very far.
Crossing foreign land and sea,
Going as far as the eyes could see.

So this here is part of my story
Told in the form of poetry.
This is what transpired back there
I hope I'll be read everywhere.
This is my exile letter,
The story of how I got over.

I got over is part I my life story ...penned through poetry

— The End —