"liberally" poems - Hello Poetry

"liberally" poems

amidst Jeffersonian opulence the Prez broke bread with his GOP poker face friends to solve government gridlock and sequester predicament trends citizens of the republic hopeful for nonsense to cease sat at the table asking “would you pass the biscuits please?” Obama perused the wine list boldly choosing a luscious Merlot senators ordered the finest hors d'oeuvres the guests were all aglow numerous delectable dishes were liberally splayed on the table revelers sipped flowing vintages wine a surefire icebreaker sparkling crystal Lennox flutes tinkled with convivial release while America’s disenfranchised voices ask “would you pass the biscuits please?” chutney meat, curried hens and sweet walnut rainbow trout the table a horn a plenty the guests gorged on fine cuisine a blessed nations bounty the feast consumed the Senators sated said it was some of the finest ever served but the taxpayers only got a peak of the banquet a whiff of senators nerve and asked “would you pass the biscuits please?” the dessert cart was rolled in with custards, cakes, creme brulee cordials, cognac and VSOP tastes rounded out the wholesome feast when the check was presented for payment all guests headed for the door with haste they told the waiter the bill of fare was covered by the guy asking... “would you pass the biscuits please?” Music Selection: Andre Williams: Pass The Biscuits Please jbm Oakland 3/7/13

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Mar 9, 2013

Mar 9, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC

james-bradley-mccallum

Pass the Biscuits Please

amidst Jeffersonian opulence the Prez broke bread with his GOP poker face friends to solve government gridlock and sequester predicament trends citizens of the republic hopeful for nonsense to cease sat at the table asking “would you pass the biscuits please?” Obama perused the wine list boldly choosing a luscious Merlot senators ordered the finest hors d'oeuvres the guests were all aglow numerous delectable dishes were liberally splayed on the table revelers sipped flowing vintages wine a surefire icebreaker sparkling crystal Lennox flutes tinkled with convivial release while America’s disenfranchised voices ask “would you pass the biscuits please?” chutney meat, curried hens and sweet walnut rainbow trout the table a horn a plenty the guests gorged on fine cuisine a blessed nations bounty the feast consumed the Senators sated said it was some of the finest ever served but the taxpayers only got a peak of the banquet a whiff of senators nerve and asked “would you pass the biscuits please?” the dessert cart was rolled in with custards, cakes, creme brulee cordials, cognac and VSOP tastes rounded out the wholesome feast when the check was presented for payment all guests headed for the door with haste they told the waiter the bill of fare was covered by the guy asking... “would you pass the biscuits please?” Music Selection: Andre Williams: Pass The Biscuits Please jbm Oakland 3/7/13

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or "let's order takeout," or "small ineptitudes in the kitchen" 1. butter lop it liberally silver clinging scrape it pan side sputters and hissing smoky? turn the heat down crimsoning elemental browning the butter 2. sizzling whites diaphanous stiffly whitened bubbles surface spatula stroking poly— tetrafluoroethylene roll the egg yolk shattering yellow 3. **** the water nothing— evaporated gasping blue effluvium windows fanblades blackened *** the bite of a char upon it tea for tomorrow

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Mar 5, 2014

Mar 5, 2014 at 1:28 PM UTC

Sappho the Housewife

or "let's order takeout," or "small ineptitudes in the kitchen" 1. butter lop it liberally silver clinging scrape it pan side sputters and hissing smoky? turn the heat down crimsoning elemental browning the butter 2. sizzling whites diaphanous stiffly whitened bubbles surface spatula stroking poly— tetrafluoroethylene roll the egg yolk shattering yellow 3. **** the water nothing— evaporated gasping blue effluvium windows fanblades blackened *** the bite of a char upon it tea for tomorrow

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come along with me lets look into the life of the common garden pea maybe you like them maybe you do not but these are my words to the common garden pea from me to them we have all seen them and had to work out how we eat them better stuck in mash potato than balanced on the knife or fork kids just distribute them so neatly on the table and the floor then hold up there plate and ask for some more but have you tried to grow them? if not come on a journey with me plant some peas in the soil water them liberally then let the season warm the earth after about 14 days or so you will see little green shoots place some sticks in for the peas likes something to hold on just like you and me for the pea has a hard life as the season moves on the pea holds out little tendon that grip on the sticks then the snails move in danger will robertson for in one night the snail can ****** all of these the peas that do survive suddenly come alive shooting up like rockets then after the flowers form all white in the sun the pods form and in them form the peas those sweet nuggets we love called garden peas

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Aug 25, 2012

Aug 25, 2012 at 2:06 PM UTC

come along with me lets look into the life of the common garden pea maybe you like them maybe you do not but these are my words to the common garden pea from me to them we have all seen them and had to work out how we eat them better stuck in mash potato than balanced on the knife or fork kids just distribute them so neatly on the table and the floor then hold up there plate and ask for some more but have you tried to grow them? if not come on a journey with me plant some peas in the soil water them liberally then let the season warm the earth after about 14 days or so you will see little green shoots place some sticks in for the peas likes something to hold on just like you and me for the pea has a hard life as the season moves on the pea holds out little tendon that grip on the sticks then the snails move in danger will robertson for in one night the snail can ****** all of these the peas that do survive suddenly come alive shooting up like rockets then after the flowers form all white in the sun the pods form and in them form the peas those sweet nuggets we love called garden peas

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Mix hormones, sprouting hair, and teenage angst in melting *** Add 2 cups of Varsity Sports Blend in at least 3 leadership positions Sprinkle AP & Honors classes liberally Acquire obscure talent such as playing a Theremin Add long-term anxiety disease Brag constantly about how you helped Jakito, a small African child, on a mission trip Drain all traces of possible love connection Substitute sleep for academia Bring stress to boil Add spoonful of “legacy” Separately mix “White Guilt” with a cup of diversity (Native American if available) Marinate in SAT classes Spread 2300mg of SAT on top Shake Well Ice decoratively with essays about Jakito Most batches must be rejected

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Jan 14, 2014

Jan 14, 2014 at 4:39 PM UTC

Ivy League Broil

Mix hormones, sprouting hair, and teenage angst in melting *** Add 2 cups of Varsity Sports Blend in at least 3 leadership positions Sprinkle AP & Honors classes liberally Acquire obscure talent such as playing a Theremin Add long-term anxiety disease Brag constantly about how you helped Jakito, a small African child, on a mission trip Drain all traces of possible love connection Substitute sleep for academia Bring stress to boil Add spoonful of “legacy” Separately mix “White Guilt” with a cup of diversity (Native American if available) Marinate in SAT classes Spread 2300mg of SAT on top Shake Well Ice decoratively with essays about Jakito Most batches must be rejected

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And when you read Don't rush - Theres no need to read with undue speed. And when you read Start with a suckle - Work up to a nibble - Until you can gnaw without a dribble. I encourage you Get down to the marrow Like there's no tomorrow. Savour each word As food for your soul And live as a model As to how to live whole. And when you read Apply your mind daily, Apply each word liberally (especially to those out of the way hard to reach places). And when you read - Study Sometimes with a buddy But - study. This is no hobby, You can't afford to get sloppy. It's as crucial for the soul As five a day for the body - So study. And when you read Treat each word Like a tutor; It can teach you How to live shrewder. And when you read Sustain it like a seed, Ensure you pay heed Cos it will never mislead. And when you read Do it to a plan, Always with intent And be sure To finish as you began. And when you read Commit to it daily, Commit it to memory To avoid thinking lazily. And when you read Do it while a commuter Do it on a computer Do it with a kindle Do it with audio Do it with a paperback Do it with a hard back Do it from front to back. However you develop the knack Don't let yourself slack; This Word is no throw back, It will keep you on track. So just read.

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Apr 10, 2017

Apr 10, 2017 at 1:12 PM UTC

And when you read

And when you read Don't rush - Theres no need to read with undue speed. And when you read Start with a suckle - Work up to a nibble - Until you can gnaw without a dribble. I encourage you Get down to the marrow Like there's no tomorrow. Savour each word As food for your soul And live as a model As to how to live whole. And when you read Apply your mind daily, Apply each word liberally (especially to those out of the way hard to reach places). And when you read - Study Sometimes with a buddy But - study. This is no hobby, You can't afford to get sloppy. It's as crucial for the soul As five a day for the body - So study. And when you read Treat each word Like a tutor; It can teach you How to live shrewder. And when you read Sustain it like a seed, Ensure you pay heed Cos it will never mislead. And when you read Do it to a plan, Always with intent And be sure To finish as you began. And when you read Commit to it daily, Commit it to memory To avoid thinking lazily. And when you read Do it while a commuter Do it on a computer Do it with a kindle Do it with audio Do it with a paperback Do it with a hard back Do it from front to back. However you develop the knack Don't let yourself slack; This Word is no throw back, It will keep you on track. So just read.

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Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy, Until I labour, I in labour lie. The foe oft-times having the foe in sight, Is tired with standing though they never fight. Off with that girdle, like heaven's zone glistering, But a far fairer world encompassing. Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear, That th' eyes of busy fools may be stopped there. Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime Tells me from you, that now 'tis your bed time. Off with that happy busk, which I envy, That still can be, and still can stand so nigh. Your gown going off, such beauteous state reveals, As when from flowery meads th' hill's shadow steals. Off with that wiry coronet and show The hairy diadem which on you doth grow; Now off with those shoes, and then safely tread In this love's hallowed temple, this soft bed. In such white robes heaven's angels used to be Received by men; thou angel bring'st with thee A heaven like Mahomet's paradise; and though Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know By this these angels from an evil sprite, Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright. License my roving hands, and let them go Before, behind, between, above, below. O my America, my new found land, My kingdom, safeliest when with one man manned, My mine of precious stones, my empery, How blessed am I in this discovering thee! To enter in these bonds, is to be free; Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be. Full nakedness, all joys are due to thee As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be, To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use Are like Atlanta's ***** cast in men's views, That when a fool's eye lighteth on a gem, His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them. Like pictures, or like books' gay coverings made For laymen, are all women thus arrayed; Themselves are mystic books, which only we Whom their imputed grace will dignify Must see revealed. Then since I may know, As liberally, as to a midwife, show Thyself: cast all, yea, this white linen hence, Here is no penance, much less innocence. To teach thee, I am naked first, why then What needst thou have more covering than a man.

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2.2k

To His Mistress Going to Bed

Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy, Until I labour, I in labour lie. The foe oft-times having the foe in sight, Is tired with standing though they never fight. Off with that girdle, like heaven's zone glistering, But a far fairer world encompassing. Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear, That th' eyes of busy fools may be stopped there. Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime Tells me from you, that now 'tis your bed time. Off with that happy busk, which I envy, That still can be, and still can stand so nigh. Your gown going off, such beauteous state reveals, As when from flowery meads th' hill's shadow steals. Off with that wiry coronet and show The hairy diadem which on you doth grow; Now off with those shoes, and then safely tread In this love's hallowed temple, this soft bed. In such white robes heaven's angels used to be Received by men; thou angel bring'st with thee A heaven like Mahomet's paradise; and though Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know By this these angels from an evil sprite, Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright. License my roving hands, and let them go Before, behind, between, above, below. O my America, my new found land, My kingdom, safeliest when with one man manned, My mine of precious stones, my empery, How blessed am I in this discovering thee! To enter in these bonds, is to be free; Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be. Full nakedness, all joys are due to thee As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be, To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use Are like Atlanta's ***** cast in men's views, That when a fool's eye lighteth on a gem, His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them. Like pictures, or like books' gay coverings made For laymen, are all women thus arrayed; Themselves are mystic books, which only we Whom their imputed grace will dignify Must see revealed. Then since I may know, As liberally, as to a midwife, show Thyself: cast all, yea, this white linen hence, Here is no penance, much less innocence. To teach thee, I am naked first, why then What needst thou have more covering than a man.

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White, calloused hands Gripping white soft belly Bushy white hair Rubbing clean white face Unfurling smoke rising Rising like the tide on a full moon Into blue sky Blue as the ocean itself Lakes north of the Twin Cities Life living liberally under rocks Death staring darkly from the depths Moon glowing brightly above Train brakes screech The passengers rustle a bit Black as the night Hard as a rock Rampant youths file into the alley Raging inside Ranting out Rigid bones cease The drug addicts plead mercilessly With their alter ego More more more **** **** **** The businessmen do their fast walk And the women do their little sway Walking dogs and walking strollers Clinically insane they repeat Dark blond hair Ripped jeans Tighter than skin Gay shoes Beautiful brunette Big *** **** Smirking smile She knows she’s hot Random dudes street talking Random chicks street banging Random kids street dealing Random guys finish the job Men in work clothes Buy love symbols for their niece And rock shows for their nephew But nothing for their sons Watching the sunset Watching the moon rise Watching the tides roll Watching you fake it all Justine took all the pills She’s passed out on the futon This basement gives me chills I think I heard someone call 9-1-1 Someone in uptown died tonight Shot On the street Blood rained like rain Red towels from the hotel Stolen again Marriot’s free swimming pool Cost me 800 dollars *** and drugs combined Rugs and thugs And enemy teams Gunshots, gun fights

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Sep 18, 2012

Sep 18, 2012 at 4:31 PM UTC

In Some Far Off Fairy Tale

White, calloused hands Gripping white soft belly Bushy white hair Rubbing clean white face Unfurling smoke rising Rising like the tide on a full moon Into blue sky Blue as the ocean itself Lakes north of the Twin Cities Life living liberally under rocks Death staring darkly from the depths Moon glowing brightly above Train brakes screech The passengers rustle a bit Black as the night Hard as a rock Rampant youths file into the alley Raging inside Ranting out Rigid bones cease The drug addicts plead mercilessly With their alter ego More more more **** **** **** The businessmen do their fast walk And the women do their little sway Walking dogs and walking strollers Clinically insane they repeat Dark blond hair Ripped jeans Tighter than skin Gay shoes Beautiful brunette Big *** **** Smirking smile She knows she’s hot Random dudes street talking Random chicks street banging Random kids street dealing Random guys finish the job Men in work clothes Buy love symbols for their niece And rock shows for their nephew But nothing for their sons Watching the sunset Watching the moon rise Watching the tides roll Watching you fake it all Justine took all the pills She’s passed out on the futon This basement gives me chills I think I heard someone call 9-1-1 Someone in uptown died tonight Shot On the street Blood rained like rain Red towels from the hotel Stolen again Marriot’s free swimming pool Cost me 800 dollars *** and drugs combined Rugs and thugs And enemy teams Gunshots, gun fights

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We see the strong supportive woman you have always been, - Now it's our turn. The unselfish way you have liberally spread your time on us, right to the edges, -Now it's our turn. The generous helpings of patience that seemed to come so naturally, with seconds for those who want it, -Now it's our turn. You're guiding words seasoned with kindness, so full of flavour, -Now it's our turn. The unconditional love you have always poured out on us, full and overflowing, -Now it's our turn... Please can you write down the recipe?

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Mar 20, 2020

Mar 20, 2020 at 12:41 PM UTC

Mother's Day 2020

We see the strong supportive woman you have always been, - Now it's our turn. The unselfish way you have liberally spread your time on us, right to the edges, -Now it's our turn. The generous helpings of patience that seemed to come so naturally, with seconds for those who want it, -Now it's our turn. You're guiding words seasoned with kindness, so full of flavour, -Now it's our turn. The unconditional love you have always poured out on us, full and overflowing, -Now it's our turn... Please can you write down the recipe?

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He calls himself Dr Swalik Take a long sharp skewer Pierce the body in numerous places But please, please do not pierce any vital organs Place said scammer in a pre heated oven 100 degrees or gas Mark 4 When the agonized screams have reached their loudest Reduce the heat Baste liberally with honey and olive oil Add chopped herbs of your choice Re baste the scammer and turn up the heat Gas Mark 7 would be about right When the skin is crisp and golden brown Serve up the scammer on a wooden platter Serve with buttered new potatoes And **** apple sauce

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Sep 21, 2015

Sep 21, 2015 at 7:27 AM UTC

To Cook A Hello Poetry Scammer

He calls himself Dr Swalik Take a long sharp skewer Pierce the body in numerous places But please, please do not pierce any vital organs Place said scammer in a pre heated oven 100 degrees or gas Mark 4 When the agonized screams have reached their loudest Reduce the heat Baste liberally with honey and olive oil Add chopped herbs of your choice Re baste the scammer and turn up the heat Gas Mark 7 would be about right When the skin is crisp and golden brown Serve up the scammer on a wooden platter Serve with buttered new potatoes And **** apple sauce

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Our genesis, The foundations of us, Was architecturally unsound. A mistake. A footprint left in wet cement, Once dried, it's for all to see. To point at. To laugh at. Our genesis; A mistake. We were the two girls That shouldn't have held hands so liberally During the school culture festival. Two girls. Who know a broken heart, Tried to tie our halves together in a twisted knot, All to get over our previous loves, previous lives, And try to move on with something fresh on our fragile minds And immortal, frail, hearts. You stitched my heart back together within a few days, So I'm sorry that I wasn't enough to stitch yours within years.

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Mar 2, 2019

Mar 2, 2019 at 3:11 AM UTC

Our genesis, The foundations of us, Was architecturally unsound. A mistake. A footprint left in wet cement, Once dried, it's for all to see. To point at. To laugh at. Our genesis; A mistake. We were the two girls That shouldn't have held hands so liberally During the school culture festival. Two girls. Who know a broken heart, Tried to tie our halves together in a twisted knot, All to get over our previous loves, previous lives, And try to move on with something fresh on our fragile minds And immortal, frail, hearts. You stitched my heart back together within a few days, So I'm sorry that I wasn't enough to stitch yours within years.

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A poem is built with sounds Liberally littered with alliteration Rhyming reason Aspiring assonance Up metaphorical mountains. Each letter plays its part. A cast of cascading chords Making mystical music For the discerning ear. Operatic musicals from the Muse: A crescendo of noise Or sometimes Whispers in the winnowing wind. I write because I must, Because I need to In answer to The Call. Paul Butters

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Jun 18, 2015

Jun 18, 2015 at 4:13 AM UTC

A poem is built with sounds Liberally littered with alliteration Rhyming reason Aspiring assonance Up metaphorical mountains. Each letter plays its part. A cast of cascading chords Making mystical music For the discerning ear. Operatic musicals from the Muse: A crescendo of noise Or sometimes Whispers in the winnowing wind. I write because I must, Because I need to In answer to The Call. Paul Butters

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Great tea boils down to a tender leaf cultivated slowly on small trees watered liberally by long rains reaping a full fragrance harvested from high estates packaged to be picked and infused without fuss or ceremony in a warmed ceramic *** for two to draw out the deepest flavour. Cup of tea?

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Feb 15, 2022

Feb 15, 2022 at 6:24 PM UTC

Great tea boils down to a tender leaf cultivated slowly on small trees watered liberally by long rains reaping a full fragrance harvested from high estates packaged to be picked and infused without fuss or ceremony in a warmed ceramic *** for two to draw out the deepest flavour. Cup of tea?

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Tea fer Two. Pickle me a Dolphin; sprinkle liberally with rye, whip us up a Butter cup on Snake n Pygmy pie. griddle ten rare rats **** soaked in sauce o' barbeque; serve it all in the banquet hall; for liddle me n you.

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May 8, 2011

May 8, 2011 at 12:01 AM UTC

"- Tea fer two -"

Tea fer Two. Pickle me a Dolphin; sprinkle liberally with rye, whip us up a Butter cup on Snake n Pygmy pie. griddle ten rare rats **** soaked in sauce o' barbeque; serve it all in the banquet hall; for liddle me n you.

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I can not seem to see you anymore. Not clearly anyway. Why do you hide in shadows, Avoid the light of my love, Cover your face with you hands? Speak in hushed whispers, That only I can hear? I miss your face of sunshine, Your hugs of reassurance. Your inviting laughter of gaiety. Your innate wisdom, So liberally dispensed. Without your light to guide me, More and more, I am often lost. Grown man or not, Without you I'm still a child. The flowers I brought you last time, are now brown and wilted. And your headstone Needs a good cleaning.

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Oct 16, 2014

Oct 16, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC

stephen-e-yocum

I can not seem to see you anymore. Not clearly anyway. Why do you hide in shadows, Avoid the light of my love, Cover your face with you hands? Speak in hushed whispers, That only I can hear? I miss your face of sunshine, Your hugs of reassurance. Your inviting laughter of gaiety. Your innate wisdom, So liberally dispensed. Without your light to guide me, More and more, I am often lost. Grown man or not, Without you I'm still a child. The flowers I brought you last time, are now brown and wilted. And your headstone Needs a good cleaning.

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Your anonymous blog To my face you are kindness itself: cheerful, always upbeat, but in your anonymous blog you rip me apart. You press your thumb and forefinger on each side, hold, pull and rend, and rupture my very innards. You focus on me, my life, my words, my actions and my body like you are a Celestron Telescope searching for every single crater and irregularity. With an Ultima Barlow lens and your Leica M9 18MP You grab each natural image and then rearrange reality with your precious, perversely pesuasive, periscopic Photoshop technique. poetic liberty has leased you a license to assassinate, humiliate, decimate, invalidate, severely lambaste, and mockingly castrate everything that I identify as me. literary freedom allows you to liberally fabricate, mutilate, denigrate, incriminate, scathingly castigate, and maliciously urinate on what others think of me. To my face you are kind beyond selflessness, but on your online beat, your anonymous malevolence sets you apart from all the others that have ever wanted to write me up, put me down, and publish me out. – Zumwalt (2011) (copied from www.zumpoems.com)

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Aug 22, 2011

Aug 22, 2011 at 8:53 AM UTC

Your anonymous blog

Your anonymous blog To my face you are kindness itself: cheerful, always upbeat, but in your anonymous blog you rip me apart. You press your thumb and forefinger on each side, hold, pull and rend, and rupture my very innards. You focus on me, my life, my words, my actions and my body like you are a Celestron Telescope searching for every single crater and irregularity. With an Ultima Barlow lens and your Leica M9 18MP You grab each natural image and then rearrange reality with your precious, perversely pesuasive, periscopic Photoshop technique. poetic liberty has leased you a license to assassinate, humiliate, decimate, invalidate, severely lambaste, and mockingly castrate everything that I identify as me. literary freedom allows you to liberally fabricate, mutilate, denigrate, incriminate, scathingly castigate, and maliciously urinate on what others think of me. To my face you are kind beyond selflessness, but on your online beat, your anonymous malevolence sets you apart from all the others that have ever wanted to write me up, put me down, and publish me out. – Zumwalt (2011) (copied from www.zumpoems.com)

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Have you noticed they are at it again? Idiocy, insults, back biting and ******** Infancy in a petulant mood shouting 'cant cook, won't cook, shan't cook'. And the recipe :- Take one ex-minister (slightly embittered). Fold through with a poison pen (neither retractable nor redactable). Add a pinch or two of smouldering resentment. Allow to stew and ferment for about 12 weeks. Then warm through with an almond glaze of scorn and liberally spread over several pages of resignation. Finally wrap in a filou of vellum, and seal. An ideal meal if you feel that your line manager really needs a punch filled packed lunch. And don't forget to garnish and serve with leaks to the press and media. Enjoy your meal Prime Minister! Warning: This recipe contains home truths, scathing criticism, ambition, nuts, betrayal, regret and crocodile tears.

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Aug 30, 2023

Aug 30, 2023 at 9:33 AM UTC

Nadines Middle Finger Salute

Have you noticed they are at it again? Idiocy, insults, back biting and ******** Infancy in a petulant mood shouting 'cant cook, won't cook, shan't cook'. And the recipe :- Take one ex-minister (slightly embittered). Fold through with a poison pen (neither retractable nor redactable). Add a pinch or two of smouldering resentment. Allow to stew and ferment for about 12 weeks. Then warm through with an almond glaze of scorn and liberally spread over several pages of resignation. Finally wrap in a filou of vellum, and seal. An ideal meal if you feel that your line manager really needs a punch filled packed lunch. And don't forget to garnish and serve with leaks to the press and media. Enjoy your meal Prime Minister! Warning: This recipe contains home truths, scathing criticism, ambition, nuts, betrayal, regret and crocodile tears.

Continue reading...

The Last Doughboy went marching home mustered up to heaven to rest in perfect peace never went over the top when he was over there drove an ambulance to save the last dying bits of humanity excavated from the craters reeking with mud and blood the turgid stench of blessed death wafts through the muddled labyrinth a ghastly kingdom of rats and men intractable mazes of hate, hope and waste led by inept generals vainglorious politicians promising triumphant victory while begging disastrous defeat bold shouts of advance lead to routed retreats global trench warfare the sweet earthen coffins empathy's last gasp compassion's last stand gurgling lungs gagging on gas imploding on clotting blood liquid ammonia sears sensitive retinas wafting flash of fire burns eyes forever shut concussive bursts bludgeon eardrums ripped bodies of friends splayed onto comrades the macabre rouge a terrible war paint liberally applied with stunning result by the industrial rattle of cantankerous Gatlings better minds thought it the war to end all wars the horrific scenes of waste the pleading lips of starved children the last Doughboy saw it all a lucky Johnny who marched home he thought the horror of WWI would be enough to end all wars yet all is not quiet on the western front Johnny's still got lots of gruesome guns distressed humanity remains very busy carting away human rubble from our apocalyptic trenches go to your reward valiant Doughboy *"leave us citizens of death's gray land, drawing no dividend from time's tomorrows." Siegfried Sassoon* Dedicated to Frank Buckles (February 1, 1901 – February 27, 2011) Godspeed Beloved Oakland 3/1/11 jbm

0

Nov 11, 2011

Nov 11, 2011 at 9:11 AM UTC

james-bradley-mccallum

The Last Doughboy

The Last Doughboy went marching home mustered up to heaven to rest in perfect peace never went over the top when he was over there drove an ambulance to save the last dying bits of humanity excavated from the craters reeking with mud and blood the turgid stench of blessed death wafts through the muddled labyrinth a ghastly kingdom of rats and men intractable mazes of hate, hope and waste led by inept generals vainglorious politicians promising triumphant victory while begging disastrous defeat bold shouts of advance lead to routed retreats global trench warfare the sweet earthen coffins empathy's last gasp compassion's last stand gurgling lungs gagging on gas imploding on clotting blood liquid ammonia sears sensitive retinas wafting flash of fire burns eyes forever shut concussive bursts bludgeon eardrums ripped bodies of friends splayed onto comrades the macabre rouge a terrible war paint liberally applied with stunning result by the industrial rattle of cantankerous Gatlings better minds thought it the war to end all wars the horrific scenes of waste the pleading lips of starved children the last Doughboy saw it all a lucky Johnny who marched home he thought the horror of WWI would be enough to end all wars yet all is not quiet on the western front Johnny's still got lots of gruesome guns distressed humanity remains very busy carting away human rubble from our apocalyptic trenches go to your reward valiant Doughboy *"leave us citizens of death's gray land, drawing no dividend from time's tomorrows." Siegfried Sassoon* Dedicated to Frank Buckles (February 1, 1901 – February 27, 2011) Godspeed Beloved Oakland 3/1/11 jbm

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I've been hunting In the forest of dreams, Getting drunk and Listening to Jefferson Airplane For the very first time. It's a night for dreaming I suppose. I've just broken the barriers of love for a man I've known so long that I've nearly forgotten who he is. A piece of furniture in my strange little room. I'll make a list Of the things I see here Apart from his lingering eyes: A musc stand A jewelry box A chair A dress - Not mine, though it was once Young girls and their blues Come to me from the feather in the meadow. Listen for the ticking of my footsteps. That's poetry. God that's poetry. Why can't I write like that? It's like looking my enemy in those bright, tremoring eyes And facing my envy with my ego and my ahmmer That's beauty. God she's beautiful. Why can't I be beautiful like her? Why can't I appreciate Jefferson Airplane like she does? I've convinced myself that I hate her for her moral depravity. For so liberally spreading her character and her legs. I know I hate her because I hate myself. And because everyone loves her, not me. . Ad were I half the human being I portray, none of this would matter. Understanding is a virtue hard to come by. You could teach me how to love if you try. My husband will sleep with his head all buried down and at the foot of his bead. I'm certain I'll abuse him, emotionally at least He'll have to be the hardest or softest poor ******* tht ever lived. I tread on everyone's good emotional graces with my obtinance and determination in being obstinate. It is, as it always will be, about my happiness. I'd rather have my country die for me. Stream of confidence: Consciousness and the problem with it is that my mind moves faster han my hand can crsft Door, bell, whistle, heart, ***** therapy, tea, love, mint, ice cream, mother, father, ring, matrimony, and there it ends. Matters only of the heart. I'll eventually ***** all of the rest of the things that I haven't wanted to say to anyone anyway. I feel as though someone is in this room with me Maybe that's just the distortion pedal talking. Listen to those drums Like a heartbeat Like a war cry I swear the Earth just moved from beneath my soul. Once, I bet, I;ve had that kind of primal instinct A hunter After his dream game A drunken huntsman never misses his mark

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Nov 19, 2013

Nov 19, 2013 at 10:40 PM UTC

Jefferson Air;lane

I've been hunting In the forest of dreams, Getting drunk and Listening to Jefferson Airplane For the very first time. It's a night for dreaming I suppose. I've just broken the barriers of love for a man I've known so long that I've nearly forgotten who he is. A piece of furniture in my strange little room. I'll make a list Of the things I see here Apart from his lingering eyes: A musc stand A jewelry box A chair A dress - Not mine, though it was once Young girls and their blues Come to me from the feather in the meadow. Listen for the ticking of my footsteps. That's poetry. God that's poetry. Why can't I write like that? It's like looking my enemy in those bright, tremoring eyes And facing my envy with my ego and my ahmmer That's beauty. God she's beautiful. Why can't I be beautiful like her? Why can't I appreciate Jefferson Airplane like she does? I've convinced myself that I hate her for her moral depravity. For so liberally spreading her character and her legs. I know I hate her because I hate myself. And because everyone loves her, not me. . Ad were I half the human being I portray, none of this would matter. Understanding is a virtue hard to come by. You could teach me how to love if you try. My husband will sleep with his head all buried down and at the foot of his bead. I'm certain I'll abuse him, emotionally at least He'll have to be the hardest or softest poor ******* tht ever lived. I tread on everyone's good emotional graces with my obtinance and determination in being obstinate. It is, as it always will be, about my happiness. I'd rather have my country die for me. Stream of confidence: Consciousness and the problem with it is that my mind moves faster han my hand can crsft Door, bell, whistle, heart, ***** therapy, tea, love, mint, ice cream, mother, father, ring, matrimony, and there it ends. Matters only of the heart. I'll eventually ***** all of the rest of the things that I haven't wanted to say to anyone anyway. I feel as though someone is in this room with me Maybe that's just the distortion pedal talking. Listen to those drums Like a heartbeat Like a war cry I swear the Earth just moved from beneath my soul. Once, I bet, I;ve had that kind of primal instinct A hunter After his dream game A drunken huntsman never misses his mark

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When I go back, will you wrap your arms around me, even though I smell differently, speak foreignly, think a little too liberally, will you, will you still love me? When I go back, will you re-teach me my language, re-connect me with my roots, re-live the years I missed, re-kindle my innocent bliss, will you, will you still call me yours? When I go back, will you provide me with friends, not “childhood friends’, but the ones that are ready to make new memories, and appreciate my multiple identities, and will they, will they accept me? When I go back, will you guarantee me a relevant nationality, a place I can belong, a culture I can call on, to answer these confusions, these conundrums these clashes of who I am and where I’ve been, of when I changed and why I’m me, Will you cure me, finally, of these anxieties? Or will I forever be a splinter that doesn’t quite fit in right a thin piece in society that jabs at its veins, remain unwanted and, ultimately, a pain, but can never be uprooted? Only there, slowly growing insane?

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Dec 8, 2016

Dec 8, 2016 at 6:08 PM UTC

When I go back, will you wrap your arms around me, even though I smell differently, speak foreignly, think a little too liberally, will you, will you still love me? When I go back, will you re-teach me my language, re-connect me with my roots, re-live the years I missed, re-kindle my innocent bliss, will you, will you still call me yours? When I go back, will you provide me with friends, not “childhood friends’, but the ones that are ready to make new memories, and appreciate my multiple identities, and will they, will they accept me? When I go back, will you guarantee me a relevant nationality, a place I can belong, a culture I can call on, to answer these confusions, these conundrums these clashes of who I am and where I’ve been, of when I changed and why I’m me, Will you cure me, finally, of these anxieties? Or will I forever be a splinter that doesn’t quite fit in right a thin piece in society that jabs at its veins, remain unwanted and, ultimately, a pain, but can never be uprooted? Only there, slowly growing insane?

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I just can't out run this feeling That comes at the end of my days The creeping sums of my failures Grip me hard and fast by the throat Pills can offer numbness for now So I take them liberally But they're not a sort of answer Just an artificial night's sleep

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Dec 10, 2016

Dec 10, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC

Medicated Failure

I just can't out run this feeling That comes at the end of my days The creeping sums of my failures Grip me hard and fast by the throat Pills can offer numbness for now So I take them liberally But they're not a sort of answer Just an artificial night's sleep

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It was put a bow on it pretty, our democracy with its polka-dot accountability and its tissue-paper truths. The discount-bin card arrived separately, postage due, and with a punctilious script it promised us a curlicued freedom from antiquated forms of expression. Our very love was ceremoniously given, but was it ever right- fully ours? Let’s render up the flattering notion of own, as it's grown so fatty lipped it wears a perpetual pout. The gift was merely Caesar’s grandiloquent concession tagged liberally, “To: Us, a meekly over-entertained many whose we, drained of meaning, poses no coherent threat.” Not yet.

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Dec 9, 2010

Dec 9, 2010 at 5:45 AM UTC

francis-scudellari

I take secret pleasure in being disabused of my fonder illusions

It was put a bow on it pretty, our democracy with its polka-dot accountability and its tissue-paper truths. The discount-bin card arrived separately, postage due, and with a punctilious script it promised us a curlicued freedom from antiquated forms of expression. Our very love was ceremoniously given, but was it ever right- fully ours? Let’s render up the flattering notion of own, as it's grown so fatty lipped it wears a perpetual pout. The gift was merely Caesar’s grandiloquent concession tagged liberally, “To: Us, a meekly over-entertained many whose we, drained of meaning, poses no coherent threat.” Not yet.

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I'm a peripatetic napper aka a somnambulant philosopher... who is prone to salubrious somniloquy aka hammock rapping, on a variety of savory subjects such as which parts, leaves, petals, stems, peels or fruit of the lilikoi and guava families make the sweetest and most healing teas... for example, I sense that you can swallow this soporific soliloquy straight or with some surf, salt, sea and sunshine and skip the sleeping pills indefinitely..

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Apr 12, 2017

Apr 12, 2017 at 1:31 PM UTC

ganesha-michael-shapiro

A loquacious loquat licks its lovers liberally

I'm a peripatetic napper aka a somnambulant philosopher... who is prone to salubrious somniloquy aka hammock rapping, on a variety of savory subjects such as which parts, leaves, petals, stems, peels or fruit of the lilikoi and guava families make the sweetest and most healing teas... for example, I sense that you can swallow this soporific soliloquy straight or with some surf, salt, sea and sunshine and skip the sleeping pills indefinitely..

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Words of kindness are like a balm for the soul and should be applied liberally where it hurts the most

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Mar 27, 2016

Mar 27, 2016 at 5:09 AM UTC

Words of kindness are like a balm for the soul and should be applied liberally where it hurts the most

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Secretly sprinkle my dust over Newt Gingrich's high fiber breakfast cereal . Or placed in the air plenum of a ritzy hotel whereby the elite should get a minuscule whiff of hardscrabble living , thrown on the interstate so as not to feel out of place , run over repeatedly by people that were forever needy ..By all means please pour me liberally over the Baked Alaska at any tax payer funded high price , 'hob knobbing' government extravaganza ! Usher my remains across a green farm pond to be eaten by catfish and passed to the bottom , carousing with the snails and the worms forever seeking cover . Perfectly content , hiding in the mud hoping not to be discovered ..

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Feb 19, 2016

Feb 19, 2016 at 10:50 AM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

Secretly sprinkle my dust over Newt Gingrich's high fiber breakfast cereal . Or placed in the air plenum of a ritzy hotel whereby the elite should get a minuscule whiff of hardscrabble living , thrown on the interstate so as not to feel out of place , run over repeatedly by people that were forever needy ..By all means please pour me liberally over the Baked Alaska at any tax payer funded high price , 'hob knobbing' government extravaganza ! Usher my remains across a green farm pond to be eaten by catfish and passed to the bottom , carousing with the snails and the worms forever seeking cover . Perfectly content , hiding in the mud hoping not to be discovered ..

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