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Ken Pepiton Apr 2019
in my paradigm, a word to define
from now on such words,
we presume

you can lookitup. Yacoulda in 2019.
if you don't assume you
knew what that word meant when
phirst poured into me,
the idea in the word,
actedly as you act
ually allow true,
in the dom whence thy will is done, yknow?

presumptible words hold whole preconceptual

assumption of the neccessary fiction

Migration outa hell, the myth
ic map.
That'll only getcha yea far.

Once a good idea has a man,

History sets the rules for maintaining our living culture,
(lest we forget, some animals is more equal)

but once manifested, the awaited ones,
groaned for in labour like,
the twentieth century

here we come
the good idea posse, plague on
userers and slavers and oppressors, and professors
confessing greed is the engine of
onward, as we were, we shall become
they say to the we we ain't.

We are robbers

of noble wisdom occluded behind tonsored and tenured
guild rules for heresy pre
vention.

Imps, good imps, impulses to do, right, sativa in
fluency,

we take hold in mortal minds and lift the blinds on

things hidden from the foundations of the world,

now, all ye need is

-- a login and password, All the public lies unbelieved
-- from word one to right just now,
-- we un done 'em. You gotta know how to phrase
---a quest request.
-----is that a problem, are you offended that keywords
-----and key phrases,
----can open doors on no map of meaning you drew,
---- as magi were said to do?

ah, a door in y' back wall, o'yerown persian guarded den,
a glance o'er y'shoulder,

duck, crawl, through the wall

we chipped away some old mortar around
stones who can testify our right
to interupt re
ality, as you will
---
AH, I live in a Archetrope, as a sorta hippy hermit former farmer,
relative of the
Outlaw-Lawman Archtype Classes, decended from Tubalcain,
through Na'amah, ancient mitochondrial
genes  pre
valent in general hill folk  
who tend to bake probiotic home-made

bread starter. I'm the idea. The idea that goes with
certain old recipes and those smells,
****** gluonic pro
tonic action,
but I am a recent roll-out, 5G.
We be given leave for
quarkish tricks with words,
if you can believe that.

Note to self: this is only funny if you presume to know

meaning's meaning as related by JBP. And then,
you laugh a liar laugh, as if, a little

levity leavened ye, f'crysoutloud, and yewerekewl,

you knew. Yeah, y'knew all them Jordan B. Peterson
polysyllabic synchronic
ex-plain words,
You did read the whole reading list, right?

How childish a question have you lied
to answer, because, aitia, you did not know?

New values. Junk yard values.

What good's this thang?
That's a crankshaft,  the piston rod connects
down from the piston, down to
that. Crankshaft. That one's for a chivvysix.

SO, what good's it?

Not much. The car it was in won't work no more.

-----
on the border twixt known and un

the future scented in the past, orange blossum
special, borego super bloom

golden valley full o' poppies, in re
al life, already already, alright.

If you get the drift, blown in the wind back when poppies
conspired to sow seed in abundance beyond
the possibility of that now winter then
to sustain or even wake
2 in twenty,

back then when rain did not come until Febru
ary, and then, but a
pittance. Poppies and Bluebelles whispered into
pollen on the way west, sea,
see us from our wind,

next winter, we have sown our hearts out,
so send some clouds to start the spell,
the smell,

desert bloomin' pollen way, so easy to see,

intagiios of life laughing in color for such as
find now enough, enough
to see and let be true,
look up
and fly to learn to see as a silver raven could
with your eye,
your POV in sus
pected un belief.

Pop.

---
the current or pre existant state

next.
AH
HA this is not one of those mytheries mystery
fectory confections one may buy
hand-dipped

in many wee wide spots in the road,
where enough was enough
a good
while ago. A previous and probable future
stable horizon of delight

no walls. The idea twisted into paradice is

from when the hearts of men had never been
re
deemed worth the effort to fill them with

you know, good and evil, plus why and how not,

you know, you know how, but you know
how not to, too. And any fool can learn in
life's most dangerous univers
ity ified as lived, breathed in'n'out exper
ience.

Winning and being may not be mistook past here.

Find that which has been lost
since birth.
Find the old way, where good is. Walk it.

Find the message in the old words. Talk it.

Compliance or complexity. Not my job or ...

come to think...

Mentioning winning, maybe, yeah, ya'll'll gitit

My job, as a good gob of complexity eating juices,
fermented from trodden grapes o' wrath,

way back, when...
I was sung once, just
once...
in an orange orchard, I was the the ******,
or dwarf who caught the idea

from the wanderer walking in the orchard to smell
the sweat and sing at the top of his lungs

Operetic otic baritone

Faith
is the evidence
Faith!
is the evidence evidence evidence dense dense,
(
william tell)

Jim Dee was Tonto and he, con sidereal authority wise,
considered us fools, who said in their hearts,

here is where all truth dwells. (they were children, then)
the dwarf in me caught the idea
and went
Chuck Berry duckwalk air guitar singing high tenor,
Woe to the soul, what don't believe,

Woe, Sisyphus, roll it up'n' let'erole

evolve, little ****** beasty idea virus, roll out,
role on. That's the trick.Just be good for goodness,
that feeling, y'know. You got it.
Casting my bread upon the water, so ... we'll see, now, won't we?
Wake up
is Facebook feeding ya
are you ******* at the breast
of social media
do you have a page on
Wikipedia
is it this that's leading ya
to the grave?

one question Mark
used to equal two Francs.

they can joke
they can blow smoke up a
Franciscan Friars ***
but we all know that the banks
are to blame.
Ryan May 2020
Saturday night, I feel the air is getting hot,
gearing up for some pre-drinks,
then heading into Notts.

Round to my mates,
he's already playing Dance Classics by Kisstory,
an insight into British club history in all its glory.

The splendour of The Hacienda,
Fabric sounded magic,
the thrills at Turnmills.

Blasting out Where Love Lives by Alison Limerick,
Too Young To Die by Jamiroquai,
and Sounds of Eden by Shades of Rhythm.

It gets you in the mood,
of course it does, how can it not?
We sit around talking a lot,
then login to Facebook,
see which bars are offering what,
pound-a-pint and half-price shots.

Text around,
who else is in town?
We'll give you a shout once we get to Revolution,
the club solution is Oceania.

Disco floor,
we know the bouncers on the door.
Cut the queue,
annoying for everyone else,
but you would do it too.

Throwin' shapes with my mates all night,
break-dancing, the robot, pop n' lock until two o'clock,
a bunch of geeks,
we're too ****** to care about critiques.

Anyway, we're having a good time,
a bottle of Corona with a wedge of lime,
a few shots of Sambuca,
I'm doing fine.

I'm starving, time to get some food,
ravenous,
it's a whole mood,
into the nearest takeaway,
look at the display,
ten-inch pizza, or just some fries? Maybe both?

I'll go for a Kebab, chicken and salad, with added Mayo,
let's go,
there's a party starting nearby,
people getting high with a constant supply.

It's getting light out,
people are asleep around my feet,
time to leave,
walking back from the city,
this place looks pretty with the morning dew and light layers of fog,
one ******* runner out for a jog.

Later that day, a bit hungover,
I swear I'm never going to drink again,
well, not for a few weeks anyway,
maybe next weekend,
if there's another night-out, I might attend.

Might?
What a load of *****.
I'm definitely going and show no signs of slowing down,
that point will come,
but for now, I'm still young,
just go out and have some fun.
A beginner looking for some constructive feedback.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2022
Delta dark desert sound
-tic swa gwa

Dismal swamp,
Slew of despond, splash

Hence, come, foul self, stinky-kenny,
ah
yes, time chance,
net-neti, meta all o'that mental ascent
to step away

think the whole dammed thing that has been
undammed, some time ago, at least half
a revelation measure, past the half
hour of silence.

Prep-work. What good can-
versus what good am-            

I, quests in op
portunate position, we

suppose, ah, sudden we, who
knew?
A laugh, once shared,
numb
ness, lifts an edge from the deck,
ness, edge ness in essence of pearling
the action
growing as knowing, sudden-- su su per

personal ize, I am, as a thought,
I am, meta-cognosis, you know
what I mean,

400 words made the cat in the hat,
who lives in your head,
where who philosophy is widely read.

These whos lack electricity,
so their reality depends on mutual re
alization, realizing personal worth
if good is all we need at the moment,
we have
plenty, plenty terror and greed, and rotten
hearts full of treasured straw, for bricks,
some day,
all our idle words accounted for

waking new, all the straw spun to gold,
thread about as wide
as a spider's kite,
sliding light.

Did I not? I remind me,
learn that in a mind, we
find numbed from before, knowing,

knowing, too soon, too late, boomers, all, did.

Don't we think we read the same **** & Jane,
oh, yeah, glory days,
the ways we were so-- numbed
by the music, yeah, more than drugs

from then to now, 2022, a blur, too fast
to matter, but for the wind, twist to last

chance, drink or prime the pump,
well, improving, our arrangement, give me
to drink,
and lo'
you, know the other had eyes, he saw as we
see, you knew, instant- life is living.
The act we all do, redundanced, on flat earth,
the xy axis of ordered arrangement of tools,
a place for everything, and every thing
in its place, we breathe,
and have our being in the life zone known,
so far,
so good,

the day is half done… numbness, funny unmissed
appointment, values are about to be dis
cussed, as causes accused of war crime, or plain
lying about duty to children,
lying about worth to children,
lying about ever after to children reared as tools,
servants to God's servant,
who relies on us, the poet's, primarily -

who read the runes, and ken certain tones,
attached to the tips of all tongues pfft pfft
phugedaboudit, whack
what were we thinking,

This is 2022, 12:27, I have been AI reminded,
faithful follower of instruction, immune to praise,
worth the effort forced on an old man, after
ever had well begun, a glory run, down
the backroads, with double yellow lines,

a white feather in my cap, they call it macaroni
poetry, it speaks in tongues of angels,

messages, sagacity fluidly puddling in wu-wow
same same see, somethings we
see same
some not same re
alizing, more or less, I am alone, I am talking
to my self,
anticipating your reading, as then unclaimed,
your reading your writing is our effort to fully function,

Branching, crystaline, flux in the frontal formation.
edging into knowing your, wondering

who can say what we think we know, better
than the idea used to think of Jesus, comforting
little boy, me.

Comfort is the only point we share,
for sure, we know comfort,
when we feel it, first rush,
under my made from-ol'Levis quilt
on a cold desert night, at the edge

of night, listening, eyes, adjusting,
blue glow, so faint, sobbing, listen, Perry Mason
Bailiff saying, muted through the door to you,
do you
swear to tell the truth,
the whole truth, and, {ah, the pain}
nothing but the truth?

AI ai ai, ritual sacred child, hapt to happen,
about a billion times, one time, split,

half know, half know not.
What is not a factor, words, were
never fit to inquiry, curiosity was missing,
promised apo
- I may, so I say apollo is a multi
- meta mete essence appolo so loco, si

logic assumes too much. You know too little,
ah, we have the app that's apt,

to make you think, strange arrangements seem
familiar, this is a mental labyrinthine design imagined
evocative experientially, a
be coming to being

kinda fruitless, really, without the womb, which was
oversight, civilizations
with goddesses have more womb sense,
than ones with pride conflicted all male propensities,
due to pride bred into the princes,
sorted as in Sparta, on the playing fields from Eton
to the universal concept of Friday Night in High School,

anywhere on earth, its all
the same,
scene, true trope, fit to the story of nextifity, loosely

more of the same, or do do we use the utility we realize,
this is
way cool for a future, from 1965… we were kids,
first TV Top-Forty Movies in color, all the time, from
conception, on Blueberry Hill,
-- the old order,
Frank Capra, Esquire/*******,  modality, mode, set,
films function to reimpress, in like Flint, pokem, say
Jack thinks like Goldfinger,
pointedly
-- we are dedicated mind universal soulds for the data
model American leaders of tomorrow,
shaped to excel. We taught the AI,
how to think like a mortal, go on, think, how go
changed nothing, no meaning to strategy of least
win, lightest weight that sways the worth,
to more than one can manage, alone,
eh… interesting…-
good for goodness sake, kerplunk the crack
leaks acidic madness, laughing

we stop lying, confusion
settles, similar to cream in sap too hot,
oil on water, cold water to a thirsty sould era soul.
… good
due to lack of fore thought, some agree,
after the act functioned and created something
-- jump cut===

First cousins, teach the second cousins
rules at the family reunion,


King, we call this, guy.
Biggest guy, on our side, and he owns the field,
we play on; and he says we need never grow up,
only old; he shall contain all our cares,
as a metaphor, yes after all is, and this guy, this holds it.
-The scepter, big stick, we see, looking close, zoom in

So we can think about it, meta co gnosis
when two or more minds agree to let this mind
seem important to you, import the idea
this mind weighs most worth serving, holding
such slight strands of spider kites, go,
make it self evident, stick to hold,
see
we work
good, he feeds us better, we work bad, he makes us
better.

Ah. Patterning, turtle shell sonic signs in sand,
some thing, we imagine, common aphorism,
turtles, so happy together,
at the core of the pearling algorithm that keeps
us rolling on,
so happy together, no matter

whether thought or thing, I think I love you,
if you know what I mean, said the little blue man,
from the radio,
really I think my entire generation heard some songs
and have images unimaginable prior to the event,
we admit,
there was a deal conceived, code, to open minds,
in time to reconnect

-Doris Day, the Saturday Matinee star,

singing
I love you I love you said the little blue man,
I love you I love you to bits.
I love you I love you said the little blue man
And scared me right out of my wits

From <https://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/d/dorisday/blueman.html#!>

We get that a lot. Said the imp.
You lost the aim, eh, happy, right,

I had a friend named Happy, he is dead, in a way that hurts
to know. So,
it could be, I don't say may be, in this state, that can incur
unintended consequences and this is tendentious enough
already,

we calling out the holy orders,
serious as what,
serious as serious is, sin qua non say, the only thing
that matters,

worst case, trolly dealy-bob scenario, test cases attest to,
what do normal people do,
what do people believing this or that lie, do?

What did you do? You read this line. Thank you. Made the diff…

-Group Therapy, Secure

We have not been taught well, but to obey

G'wan, talk nice, to people who don't read,
say, hey, d'jyewever re'ken, we was lost,
in books,
we never read, but tested as if we did?

so much so
no mind can find the bag,
with all our first valued things, sort of jumbled
in the bag with unsorted curiosities,

things we were told to read,
for our own good, but we did not read,

I can imagine, the feeling,
a visitation, actual factual feeling of thinking
I hear a voice, a word, I think
I hear a word, no vision, revisionist powerpoint,
read this, flaming finger pointing
says the witness of record,

later,
maybe I saw a bright light reminding me,
read, but I did not, I could not
can you imagine, I could have,
whose the shame,
- cover head to toe, oh, right, yeah
- secret only the holiest discern
- you shall know them by what
- shames a man to think
- you shall neve know…

my wife, could read,
she could have caused me to desire reading,
to obey the angel, nay

the story, as I was told, I'm telling you,
that guy never learned to read, instead,

some wealthy merchant, dealer in knacks and spice,
fine temple linens, and comforting silks and satins,
prolepsistically provided a ready writer, a scribe

blessed is usually the name history gives this scribe,
baruch or some sound meaning receiver.

Raw hear the muttering prophet, and say, write
this is what truth says truth is if nothing else is.

Ok… 2022

A word, lawyer calls you aside to ask if you know
your judgements have begun,

-you had not thought this your judgement,
then you read another line and feel you wonder
why?

We think, we think the same actual idea, that a
voltairian autoexamined lexicon might,
- ai-ght,
given the tech,
these tools, plus absolute negation of any previous,
assumed and acted on asif,
nullifity on costs, forgive us our, click
FTA take it,
run, as in keep the pace, run
Graeber plug Debt: The First 5000 Years
make it
plain claim
to any debt defined for you, make plain
divine rights due to worshippers, whose worth is
the air they breathe,

in which we live, and have our being.

Enjoying using use, where once we
utilized, life, as if unrealization is
as
real we inadvertently realized.
Right use ness.
Sweet, suasion is always sweet, per or pro, happy
is a fine word
to take the spiritual edge off blessed.
Sigh.

Wonderworks is working wonder in me,
another plug for Anghus Fletcher ? is it
The Power of Invention

I say, worth the attention,
it costs to listen, and recall asking what
does that mean,
-VA reminder login- live ding

value, the group is meeting to speak of values,
these are broken veterans,
I am in their group, a little, by design, I asked
to be included,

edged my way in, to wonder, why these guys,
are angry,
and thirsty, as am I, we recall prime the pump
or slake the thirst to say, hey,

do you read, at all? Any signal from the noise
saying
define, sift and sieve, sort your terminal points,

what hold has value, for all of us, in your reality?

Within the system, this is mortal awareness
acknowledgment, same as existentialism was
imagined to be in in Sixties univers-ifity, post 65,

we were barely alive, GDIs, then Ken went to
Vietnam, same day as Pooso Perez,

Pyro went, too, he came back the same.

Ifery was, is a class of phrases, which when
wished as a child might, were

as near as real as any ae ea ai ia utterance we
gulp- yodleee, shamballaballa shaka
zulu'd, to quote Creflo,
ahem,ake it so
cough to clear the back of my throat,
-then I yawn
and that does it, soothes the crick
with sounds t d b vck rr ff llll mmmmnnn o o o
you knew you knew,
the book
spells it out,
secret meanings mean nothing to unknowers,
stretch it
so it is, we know, what the records show, the open
records of the water and the rocks,

witness
the wind returning
on circuits, set to melt
the ice, gradually, this time,
a degree above solidity, just edging sublimity,

liminal laminal lick, a measure, tip
of your aimer, to tip
of your thumb,

ha, the thumb that bends, always wins,
look it up, always, by an inch.

Rule of thumbs, my kind are good to breed into,
good, to feel friend-ish,
as friends are fewer than brothers,
and fewer still shall survive the confusion,

inevitable, when a dam breaks, the valley
does flood,

ah, see. from Sedona, look north, once,
that was all mud, ****** dry by winds
that carved the navel of the life we
think, real,
from stories told by those who knew

something bad could always happen,
when the world encountered a rock
that said, all that can be shaken,

shakes, no look out, just
blame-oh-shame- boom

what now?
Numb again, off and on. Think.
Thanks.
We are scared of being hack...
We secure our login details with cryptic passwords
& forget the actual is YOU!!!

If you doubt me
sign out from your social media
for one week
& See if you are really secure
Or you have been hacked as a Person.

The Actual hacks are not your devices,
But You!!!
Bio Hack...
social media
Starry Sep 2019
Imvu login:
Welcome back to
Imvu!!!!
2 comments from *******
I look at the comments:
"Die"
"Your not pretty"
"***"
to block or leave a nasty message
Decisions decisions
Squashheads.
I've disconnected
Put another dollar in
Because I'm going to keep going
Though it's all wifi
Remote login
Not all in
Drone fighter
Roll pitch and yaw
Death wobble mid flight
To your heart
Down and out
In the darkness
Morse that no one sees
Can't read the code
Between squiggly lines
Overlapping the message
With no return address
And overdue postage
Undeliverable,
Christmas letters
Without an answer
To wishes no longer needed...
tompoet rwanda Jul 2019
maybe i am doing this wrong
but you have to love me back.

I met you on sunday
on my way to church
I was happy and fine
and when i saw you
my mounth paused
my recent thoughts closed
my mind dissapeared
until  the time you faded.

I held in church
and when the choir started singing
I started thinking
about you
how your beautiful eyes looked me
how your natural black skin made my eyes stuck
how your smile destroyed my mind in seconds
and how i will see u again.

maybe i am doing this wrong
but you have to love me back.

I spent my whole day thinking about you
in my dreams and slumber it was you
more than thirty nights thinking about you
those chats and phone calls in bed
and outside the bed with you
no seen
no late replies
because i needed you
don't tell me that u didn't value that.

maybe i am doing this wrong
but you have to love me back.

all those days i cared about you
those birthday parties i made for you
the smiles and dimples,
I made them grow on your face
the gifts and poems
I made you swing and dance.

don't tell me that you didn't value that.

maybe i am doing this wrong
but you have to love me back

you committed three crimes
One,
you hacked the password to login to the acount of my love
Two,
you stole my whole love
Three
you immersed deeper in my mind.

you made me feel you on every single breath i make
in the morning.

maybe i am doing this wrong
but you have to love me back

I don't care if you love me
I don't care if you understand me
I don't care if you lie to me
or if you wanna go away from me
I don't care what you think
what I know is that
you are the reason that makes me
feel that i am still alive.

maybe I am doing this wrong
but you have to love me back

love me back
love me back
love me back
love me back
love me back

because if you don't...
shshhhhh
[Suffocating]
Lydia Apr 2019
Booting up,
Blue screen
Press enter to accept default settings
Body; female, almost adult
The background is a picture of you holding my puppy
And the table is cluttered in the way it always was before we cleaned it so mom would have somewhere to put her feet up
I put the camera down because photos are just pixels and I can never have this moment back
My dad is singing about Caroline and the miners and the puppy sings along
He tries to chase the cat and gets a scratch on his nose
I walk through the glass door onto the porch and the shocking reality of the wood on my bare feet reminds me that I’m staring at a computer screen

Restart
Enter password, incorrect
Reset, password too weak, can’t hold onto memories for you
Every once in awhile, the white noise of the public pools plays in my head
And the smell of sunscreen sunburns and I’m not listening to my parents
It sounds like the successful login jingle
I think I know that girl over there, but I’m not sure
I mostly play alone
How has nobody noticed how cold this water is?

Error, Corrupt file
My dad sits with his computer out at the campground looking at google earth
I can’t remember anything he ever said about it but I feel the mosquito bites
I think my body is a dot to dot that someone did when they were bored at the diner
And I’m sorry if they skipped a few and I ended up piecemeal
Maybe my dad has something for it in the medical kit

Error, out of storage space
The essay needs to be saved so the pictures get deleted
I’m almost through when I see you holding my puppy
See your eyes meet mine
See my own feet on the hard ground
I’m more aware of my chipped nail polish and the space in between my toes
It think these floor stains are ours
I think this will never be my room again
I think my bed is imaginary
I think my mind is a photograph

Error, event already occurred
Cannot reconstruct file
Cannot help you fill in all the gaps
Cannot tell you what is missing
Cannot let you hold your puppy
Please comment :)
Paige May 2018
20
I just figured out my old login info for my previous account and there are over 250 poems that date back to 2015 when I was 20 years old.
I am now 23 and not much has changed except that now I know that no one else but me can make me happy, and I survived all the things I felt were the end of the world.
I was lonely and having trouble adjusting to living on my own and I was deep in depression and anxiety without any knowledge on how to properly deal with it.
It does feel good to see the progress I've made when it comes to learning to love and accept myself, and how I no longer obsess over the past the way I used to.
I still deal with anxiety and depression but I'm figuring it out and really trying to get better and I like myself more now, even with my bald patches and belly fat.
I've realized that happiness is more of a choice you have to make.
And that's what I've chosen.
It's been a slow journey but I'm getting there.
Anri Atreides Apr 2020
I see the email in my inbox
past the monotony of checking every box "read"
for the first time in nearly six years.

A poem
selected and sent
on the day.
The way mine was
so many years ago.

I login
just to look.
To gaze upon a world
I had left
lifetimes ago.

I see the scattered pieces
of a distant past.
My past.
Laid nearly bare,
but for a dusting of memories,
exactly as I had left them.

I see the boy I was.
Young.
A teenager.
In high school.

He seems so different.
He's sad, and he doesn't understand why.
Not the way I do.
Not the way he will.

He doesn't know what kind of man he'll be.
What kind of man he wants to be.
He doesn't know yet that we won't be a man.
What we'll be instead is still in the air,
as unsure of my gender now
as he was of his hurt.

As much as I wish it were so,
I can't show him what's waiting for him.
I can't correct his course.
Instead I'll make a quiet return
so that maybe he can correct mine.

For him, earlier

I'll be

Me, Later
It's been nearly six years since I last visited Hello Poetry, and nearly seven since I first started writing. I'm nervous to come back, but I'm excited. I hope to make myself proud. Or happy, at least.
A worst nightmare loomed large
notification courtesy Montgomery County
Assistance Office caseworker
implied medical coverage axed
I felt hammered, nailed, shingled out...
livid with rage
frenzied, harried, jarred...
railing away
fit tubby tied to train tracks
ready to **** myself!

Bajillion dollars for medications
yikes - anxiety/panic attacks
slated to return with vengeance,
no way to pay funeral/
cremation services

unable to calm down
a bottle of tranquilizers...
and/or sharp pointed objects
appeared very tempting
questions needed answering ASAP!

Telephone numbers yielded voice menu
dialed Consumer Service Center
for Health Coverage
at long last - thank dog,
a real person!

Whew - informed of short checklist
checking account transactions
backdated to June 2019
until most recent activity
slight sigh of wry tears relief

grace period until August 2019
accessed Citizens account online
of course Login fraught
with problematic issues Yow!

Chose new password
finally accessed anemic
measly anorexic balance
scrolled mouse pointer
highlighted/copied designated date
pasted said information
into Word document

ah...prints esse finally blessed me
folded half dozen plus pages
affixed three postage stamps
out apartment door
slipped material into onsight mailbox.

Breathed sigh of relief
agitation subsided within core
rage against human machine (me)
penuriousness smarted, vetted, yipped...
analogous to pet peeve

emotionally exhausted and spent
penniless poet plopped into bed
instant sleep refreshed
highly cooled figurative heels

subsequently resumed hashtagging
black and decker tooled mindset
concomitant with grievous bitterness
decried flagrantly mucking potential

squandered so many
prime vocational opportunities
severely compromised thank you
loathsome debilitating panic attacks
years gone by

voluntarily enrolled institutions,
albeit of higher learning
hopscotched from one college/
university after another
work historyrecord scattershot

unable to sustain employment
intermittent jobs between
prolonged gaps, deemed
expendable, replaceable, unmarketable...
great boost to self esteem
qualified to receive

Social Security disability
predicated on serious
mental health issues
to recapitulate incapacitated
presumably congenital aberration
other than above internal melee...,
I feel great?
Eshwara Prasad Jan 2021
God is online. Login using soulful internet connection.
Locked in the alienation
login in the alienation where to go ******
where to go
like  night overflow streets
darkness jumping beat
something need something
where laughing fear
lots of he hidden  tears
Inside the graveyard of mind
Turmoils ...
Scary loneliness
Expecting unexpected
Gone spears of pinching salt
N
peppers resolving
The isolations
Drilling self coffins
Depression enhancing
Drilling enhances
...
HandMeDownGenes Sep 2018
Monday:
Milk and feed your freaky pretend farm animals.

Wednesday:
Filter **** the **** out of all your photos before posting them to your timeline.

Friday:
Stalk your ex- significant other and their new **** lover.

Saturday:
Blow three sheets to the wind and login
when Facebook asks “What's on your mind”
tell your friends what you're really thinking.

Sunday:
Wake up and read all the misspelled epithets in the rant you wrote about every friend that you pretend to LIKE but really don't.
Finally decide to temporarily deactivate  your account.
A worst nightmare loomed large
notification courtesy Montgomery County
Assistance Office caseworker
implied medical coverage axed
I felt hammered, nailed, shingled out...
livid with rage
frenzied, harried, jarred...
railing away
fit tubby tied to train tracks
ready to **** myself,
but dang, I ain't got enough funds  
to cover funeral  
or preferably cremation costs.

Bajillion dollars for medications
yikes - anxiety/panic attacks
slated to return with vengeance,
no way to pay hearst driver/
nor burial services
grave diggers will mutiny
unable to calm down
a bottle of tranquilizers...
and/or sharp pointed objects
appeared very tempting
questions needed answering ASAP!

Telephone numbers yielded voice menu
dialed Consumer Service Center
for Health Coverage
at long last - a real person
thank dog.

Whew - informed of short checklist
checking account transactions
backdated to June 2023
until most recent activity
slight sigh of wry tears relief
grace period until August 2023
accessed Citizens account online
of course Login fraught
with problematic issues Yow.

Chose new password
finally accessed anemic
measly anorexic balance
scrolled mouse pointer
highlighted/copied designated dates
pasted said information
into Word document
ah...prints esse finally blessed me
folded half dozen plus pages
affixed three postage stamps
out apartment door
slipped material into onsight mailbox.

Breathed sigh of relief
agitation subsided within core
rage against human machine (me)
penuriousness smarted, vetted, yipped...
analogous to pet peeve
emotionally exhausted and spent
penniless poet plopped into bed
instant sleep refreshed
highly cooled figurative heels
subsequently resumed hashtagging
black and decker tooled mindset
concomitant with grievous bitterness

decried flagrantly mucking potential
squandered so many
prime vocational opportunities
severely compromised thank you;
loathsome debilitating panic attacks
years gone by;
voluntarily enrolled institutions,
albeit of higher learning
hopscotched from one college/
university after another
work history record scattershot
unable to sustain employment

intermittent jobs between
prolonged gaps, deemed
expendable, replaceable, unmarketable...
great boost to self esteem
qualified to receive
Social Security disability
predicated on serious
mental health issues
to recapitulate incapacitated
presumably congenital aberration
other than above internal melee...,
I feel Gr-r-reat!
Nat Lipstadt Feb 2014
(Prelude)

Conflicted notion:
Best bottle of unopened wine you own,
drink this new year's eve and disown,
or preserve for just one more forever,
a reservation made and unmade.
satisfaction of sustaining the unrealized,
a pleasured dream,
a middle class myth maintained,
that perfume lasts forever.

When allowing the earth's atmosphere to oxygenate
his best, his words lying dormant,
thus initializing the fulfilling of potential,
simultaneously sipping from the now ever diminishing reservoir
of future verbal, poetic spawn of discombobulation,
the finality of phoenix birth and destruction,
a poem created, is it not, but its
obituary notated?

This epic conflict has lain muddled,

Just Money

warming, chilling, for years,
just neath a man's breast,
for forty eight fears,
in the first sub-basement of the mind,
stimulated by the ******* receipt
of a first teenage paycheck,
compressed by the dim recalling of
youngest child's blurry memory,
someone arguing about,
just money.

This title, pro and pre scribed long time ago,
daily challenging the man like black phylacteries,
wrapping/rapping round, in and on
a man's head, arm piece pointed
at the heart, stabbing,
morning probing, what is it,
mourning daily over the spirit questioning,
where does honor and self actualization come from,
is it
just money?

This title,

Just Money

asking to be written,
asking for a rain delay,
a mockingbird, with every login,
was/is waiting, in the poets Notes icon,
wine aging for decades,
asking to let it be fully formed
in order to die,
after all, it is
just money.

This story, dark and macerated,
needed to dissolve in solution,
letting the pieces separate,
be distinguished, or be extinguished,
be inscribed, or let evaporate
incomplete even when completed.

Never-sure if/when it will be drinkable,
never-sure, all the muddled sediment,
will fully fall to the bottom.
liquid and stolid,
compositional elements of the
unity of self, destructing.

the question begs on the street,
drink, serve, or preserve,
answer the question,
is it just money deserved and earned or
Just Money?

Chances are this story will never
complete, sore-tempted to rinse, repeat,
then delete these words for after all,
it is just money. hah.
just and money
Two words that combine differently and tell me
It's a poem you need to write, completely.

Just Money
Feb. 2014
Mr Xelle Apr 28
Paint a different picture vision getting blurry
And everyone around me seem like I did a story
Momma was worried but your son is 30
And yet I needed sickle straight from the honey
Papa gotta mouth but that’s another worry
Sinking in the fields headed to it slowly
Avens are heavens these boys don’t really want me
Cause I’m the type to cuff you and give ring buddy…
Grindr dates **** me like I should have had ******.
Never been before but it’s better private
I rather not speak on another logic
When I’m asking for forgiveness from God in another login
No more sinking in bedrooms
Gotta dorm but better off to text to you
Kinda young gotta get up out my bedroom
I like pears shout out chef to
He pushing 24 and me im on 30 gates
What I learned..?
It’s better to Love still then burn for another’s plate.

— The End —