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Saint Audrey Jun 2018
Stake claim, enslave
Falling behind
A wake so odd
Cosmic, wretched truth
Will all compose
With repetition
Til all devolves

Equally wrong choices, with dire stakes
Options weighed, time again

Derived presets, and presupposition
Derivative motion,  placed on this clean slate
And left for a lifetime
Of horrid substitutions
Tip Your hat
And curtsy low
The masses so mandate absolute guile
A handshake, a smile, a proper and refined bow!
To adorn thy head and semble wit
And do your best!
Take pride with etiquette
If not informed
Ye won't last a mile
And differentiation between animals distinguishes you,
Resplendent child
Wash your hair and underclothes with soap
Lest ye resemble sow
And goodness dear
Have I forgotten now?
Always remember to smile!
So I'll take your Winter clothes with zest
I'll scramble on point
No unruly mess
Oh, did i forget your coat?
No, I've got it, relax, care for a smoke?
My apologies, please forgive my latency
It must be warm in here for my blood
In fact...
Boiling over kettle within
Prevent me from committing sin
I do wish to vent
Pick up this pen
And release red wells from his dainty, fragile neck
The underbelly. It's beknownst to me entrails are thick
Now whatever shall I do with this fresh clutter?
I'll act for free, so cordially!
With my chivalrous lines
But can you, my friend, respond in kind?
After all, it's only common courtesy
It's over now, my fantasy
It dissipates with urgency
And this is my confession
Imbibed in me from every grueling, tedious lesson
An implication of uniformity
The daydreams borne from the perfunctory
This is for anyone who has ever worked in the retail industry. As politely as you can possibly express it.
False Poets Oct 2017
An excerpt from           An excerpt from
a poem by T.S. Eliot.     a poem by the False Poets

Between the idea          no permanence in juxtaposition
And the reality              where Falls the Shadow, the shadow
Between the motion.     a divisive notion caught between
And the act                    composition & action, the response is
Falls the Shadow           Falls the Shadow

Between the conception grayed outline indistinct, the cognitive sap
And the creation              leaks, contradictions irritating birth sac,
Between the emotion      whereupon Falls the Shadow emerges
And the response            the response conclusive, occlusive, collusive 
Falls the Shadow             Falls the Shadow
Between the desire          juxtaposition insertion, need to achieve
And the spasm                 the blurted ****** of spurted letters born
Between the potency.      in the potent white seeds of black words
And the existence            coming into existence as a riptorn issue,
Between the essence        essences of scents blood+logic foretelling
And the descent               birth & death, descent & the ascent, both,
Falls the Shadow              Falls the Shadow

Between the desire            the desire desired, completed,
And the spasm                   the latency uncovered,
Between the potency         the potent toxins of spit and tears
And the existence              the birth fluid of  of existence
Between the essence          the formulation of the human essence
And the descent                 from blood dust to blood dust is where
Falls the Shadow.               Falls All the Shadows
October 2017
mikhaltsov Nov 22
marshalling movement 
buzz in upheaving billows
ting on a dial
frame the history
hush pinpoints
a resident dossier
microscope on my deeds

browser scrolls
the machine inks a cartridge
dictaphone is set
push of my hand
click on my mouse

newfound photographs drop
the air I brake by telling
carries crystal stream 
to the matrix 
to my buffer cell

as a newfound man
about to leave my family nest
that history flyboy 
flits along 
from my view point podium

as a Gorgon sister
it protrudes from the hills 
bringing rattlesnakes
and it rows
round my lowest point sodium

child grows history
in his marrow
sees others err
does the currency
the latency read from his own lips

motor movements
buzzing marching people
ting on a laptop
frame the history
what hell 
of a history 
am I?
Andrew Guzaldo c Sep 2018
“Blight into cold blue and obsidian water sky.
I await to graciously glance at sunset and smile,
I must renew my bones in dynasty of deity,
I have been feeling an awakening sensation,

I must still clear all my earthly levies,
As I sense awakening of a simmering rage,
The day that since has died a desperate light,
That light that must get stronger by the day,

Today is dead latency in the desolate land,
My heart welcomes you once again my love,
My season my woman my deity my immensity,
Every road leads to the door step of my heart,

For without thee I will roam with a hungry heart,
It is blunt to pause to make an end majestic creature,
Nefarious it was for suns to store and cache my will,
Skies black water befuddles me and constrains me,

Moving heaven and earth that which we were,
Made all the stars weak by time and fate,
Every ode will disperse and die as soon this will,  
Ode to Blackwater”
By Andrew Guzaldo 09/20/2018 ©
By Andrew Guzaldo 09/20/2018 ©          #Poem #124
Somebody is looking for validation
In valuable places we have faced
The untouchable edges of our latency
Have you come for inspiration, only
To be irritated by your co-dependency
Zizaloom Oct 2018
A billion fingerprints on a dollar bill
Only wash the hands
After wiping forth and back
Habits accumulate and
Tend to follow
Or tend the rabbits
But anyway
The second path
Is always
And then from outer space
Half a flick of dust
Only palpable
In someone's memories
On someone's mind
Behind the eclipse
And the bright lights
Face to face
You are a block
Of organic matter
Stuffed with minerals and latency
A resonance in the air
Heavily drifting
One picometer above the ground
Hazardous vibes of tranquility
Are emanated by the frustration
Of fuzz
Covering the back and neck
Not being able to come to an end
Where the point meets the previous point
The perfect angle
And a goosebump followed by goosebumps
Tend and stretch to reach
But all little fingers choke
Are tips of pint-sized bunnies
The color of mist
James Floss Nov 2018
Three decades gone
Legacy now latency
Blink, no longer there

Invest in entropy
A future certainty
Nothing ever lasts

No one needs the past
Nothing to learn there
It’s over; get over it

— The End —