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Ben Brinkburn Feb 2013
He walked briskly down the street matriculating prisms of light in the rhythm of the half-life gauging the calibration of the saints deluding angels with his card tricks keeping mediums amused with stories of Jewish cowboys in the old west towns like Tucson and Fort Smith El Paso and Los Alamos irradiated deserts and timber towers of purpose harbouring test wrappings and the allure of relativity the tease of light speed the promise of a new universe bore of a split nucleus of electrons freed and neutrons cowed sliding into a chaos of religious quest and the argument of philosophies both lost and found and true dichotomies and myths that excite but lie and serve sweet political purpose of mushroom clouds below home skies before they puncture the foreign and innocence lost on wide blue seas of dreams spiked with insidious isotopes walking the street wondering if he should forget should he discard and will we ever reach the stars
Brycical Sep 2013
For years I've been trying to write
something that would cause the earth to shake--
maybe even slightly tip it off its axis.
Not because it possesses any eloquent grandeur
with words like "cataclysm" or "surreptitious"
nor due to any celeb-ritory status
that may befall my unkempt and ghostly pale person.

                      I just want people to think!

From the moment most of us
are pushed from our mother's dark, watery womb
it's like we're given a hardhat and a pick,
then told to find some gold in the mine
because if you want to keep working in the mine
you have to pay
and then as we try to explain that we're uneducated about mining
because we were just birthed we are told not to worry
because there are teachers who will educate us about the mine
and every so many days we're tested on what we learned about the mine
all the while being told to forget not about the gold in the mine
and sometimes we get a little tired or bored of looking for gold
so we're given a book to read about some guy named Mr. Brahmallah Siddhartahweh Christ
along with a few cigarettes, beer and lunch meat to relax
for a few minutes before it's time to get back to work to look for gold in the mine
to pay to look for gold in the mine
and lord help you if you can't pay to work in the mine because you need to work in the mine
to work in the mine.

                                                      Confused?­ That's the point...
Now, the metaphor above is a crude illustration
of what I'm talking about,
but I have confidence you understand what's gnawing at me,
AND what should be at you too.

                     Where is there time to think??

Even in scientific and philosophical occupations
there isn't much thinking these days.
Many take science as law
the same way extreme, right wingers from any religion
take their "religious doctrine" as law.
Our politics, technology and even reading is polluted
with derision and division into different schools of thought
from a Conservative Team Edward Apple supporting Griffendor Christian
to a Liberal Hufflepuff PC using Team Jacob Buddhist.
Now I understand why all these new agers
keep referencing The Matrix.

                           WHAT IS REAL!?
That must be a decent explanation as why people go insane;
suffocating on all the weighty labels
forcefully pinned to their soul.

And yet...
more people, like me,
are desperately clawing away at these labels,
attempting to find a little fresh air,
perhaps filled with the smell of paint,
graphite, charcoal, clay, **** and natural body pheromones
while sounds of music, chanting, cheers, sobbing, silence, giggling and *******
echo in the breathing room
as we feel the grass beneath our feet, wind matriculating through our hair, another warm and loving body embracing ours with cool water trickling down our backs...
People like me
wishing to be metaphorically, figuratively, theologically and psychologically digambara  
subconsciously evolving from sadhu to avadhuta
          preaching anekantavada
           while simultaneously revealing it all stems from ONE!

But...
many of us are caught in a dilemma best expressed by E.B. White:

[Arising] in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world, [making] it hard to plan the day.

These days, to the masses working in the mine,
if you're trying to improve the world you're a kook or a traitor,
just ask the SnowMannings.
If you try enjoying the world you're labeled lazy.
We all just want to be       FREE!!

Of course, Bill Hicks once said,
If you think you're free, trying going somewhere without ******* money.  

And when you THINK about that,
you start to get confused, right?
Maybe your head starts to hurt, right?
Because when you THINK about that,
and all the supposed enlightened people
from Siddhārtha Gautama who resigned from his royal trappings
to Yeshua HaNotzri who renounced material possessions with a needle
while the passive warrior Mahatma Gandhi thought western civilization a good idea.

Why are most children discouraged from being artists, farmers and the next far out thinkers?
Because      there’s        no          money        in         ­ it!  
Again, we’re back in the mine looking for gold.
But what would happen if you stopped?
What would happen if you got in the mine cart and said “**** it,”
then went careening down the shaft,
whirling and twirling faster and faster enjoying the ride!

But now I’m positioned in another quandary;
                       SOLUTIONS!  

While people like myself may have a few ideas
I think they are impossible to share at the moment
Because the majority of the population is too lazy
and complacent to do anything.
First we need to awaken!
First we have to get mad like Howard Beale!
We have to collectively reject the current frequency
and do like Tim Leary where we “turn on, tune in and drop out.”

Ok,
Let’s take five,
maybe more.
And when we reunite
let’s hash out some solutions,
**** out what does and doesn’t work.
If you like this, please share.
Tom McCone Nov 2013
to have been lead through
slumbering paddocks by
held hands; hope, the  
deity, nonexistent and relentless,
i felt alive-  
was i but the subject
of her meticulously-planned humour?
was i the joke,  
or the punchline?

boldly ripening into
mistaken aphasias, i
find my melting thoughts
matriculating into sharp
movements in the dark:
curves patterned,  
ribcages' separation, a gaussian blur of
intertwined epidermal rivulets,
your soft, slow imaginings becoming
tiny flecks of graphite smeared
a page's width, intricately sown
across skin, that light trickles
through a sliver in the curtains
to wordlessly illuminate.  

seventh memory: a peeling away,
a mandarin on the kitchen counter.
watching stars disappear  
from atop the balustrade, we sit
mere fragments apart, yet
at great distance, like  
the fog of the cities we carry out
the moments of    
our regularized lives, within.

finally, i become translucent.
yet,      
what have the stars become?
Yhama ButterFly Mar 2014
Attacked by that which I love

I hold my ground

try to maintain sanity

pain matriculating

poisonous seeds

one-by-one

planted, deep within me

tears formulate

I’m on the brink of releasing


Darts of fire

directed at me

I take cover

shielding myself from the attack

dodging the consistent blaze

though most of me am covered

still parts of me gets burned


It hurts...

I'm wounded...

Is there a fire extinguisher for pain?

PLEASE use it on me now!!!*


~ButterFly εїз   2011 ©
media holocaust dumbing down society
  matriculating detachment's spineless dump,
weapons of mass distraction's convergence  
assimilating adaptation's explored transmissions
   in conversions of auxiliary's pseudo-redemption
    anxiety cast in embittered expulsions of
ubiquitous foghorns flailing in numbing flat notes,
   off key in theatrical productions' translation
failure to cease & desist standby sub-humanity,
     close-captioned in radioactive hieroglyphics
                  on the walls of expectations' exasperation
Brycical Jul 2013
(+) vibrations buzzzzzzzz
                    lifting
  mouths        &           spirits

         r              ning
d            ow                      

                    out  ­                the (-)



                                                          ­ i  n   g
matriculating curves t w i s t
              quickly churning
                         bending like   w
                                                      a
       ­                                            t
                                                     e
                                                  r
                                    in a whirlpool
                                        with/ou t    grrrravity
                                                 as we sail on the stream of consciousness
                              to another realm
                                     inside ourselves
                                                    on our rainbow brain boat visiting
                                           tye-dye twilight night skies
                                                giggling wind PLAYING with
                                      our hair beginning to laugh
                                   like cats after discovering chicken it the fridge.
                         We sing Hendrix
                                 Joplin
                          Morrison
                     Floyd
                Lennon
         and Shankar
all the way to the shore
of the island.
Thanks for the word Sarah. :)
Emilia Leonetti Sep 2014
The lecturer stands, waving her hands
Wildly gesticulating
Squawking and screeching and and humming and preaching
Whilst our minds fix on matriculating

"Please, please I beg of you
Responsible for shaping heads
Tell your children this is true -
Use any verb other than 'said'!"

She demonstrates the dialogue tags
That we sages can impart
"Replied", "enquired", "sighed", "ragged"
"Norted", "blorted", "ogled", "blarted" -

But if a child uses all these
What kind of field will they have built?
Cohesive, engaging, with wonderful staging
Or splotted and sploged like a patchwork quilt?

For you see -

All the words inside your head
The ones who unwittingly cover for "said"
Are the drink-addled maidens you see in the street
Holding their heels and walking in bare feet

Flipping their hairs and waving their phones
Cackling and snickering in shrilliing, thrilling tones
As their best friends, the adverbs, grab them by their hair
Determined to prevent an emetic scare

To-ing and fro-ing, and never quite knowing
Where exactly it is they are going
All they know is they eschew intervention
By boldly pleading for more and more attention

But "said" is a lady of quiet grace
Wearing long tresses, muted dresses and a fair face
And sits beside each word with a natural restraint
Holding up quotations without complaint

Till it blends through the text like smooth, creamy paint
And fades till it becomes so, so faint
That it only feels natural to focus instead
On the intentions of the characters inside of your head

It's a word that fills most teachers with dread
But I earnestly plead to befriend the word "said"
For she's a hard-working lady with quiet conviction
- Does that help with your language affliction?
trf Feb 2018
warmer winds breathing human heat,
echoing nostalgia, bending curriculum.

***** pack's  students wade in,
just as nomadic as their predecessors
past the tour of tilted rocks
towards the swelter shelter.

yellow busses spit diesel clouds,
particulates and their masters matriculating
in an ever ending search for fudge.

fossils forgotten for facebook,
a dismal display of disrespect.

nomads nonetheless.
less than half a dozen hours
   remain here in Lake Woebegone,
an idyllic enclave, where legal tender,
   liquid assets, minted monies
   by the metric ton
loot, et cetera replaced
   with sharing home good humor spun
prevarication, or a pun
where this Norwegian bachelor farmer,

   now sets timer counting down to the one
hundred and fifth International Women's Day,
   hence dada's taxi service necessitated
   (asper my own volition) none
forsaking a substantial block of time
to ferry (via 2009 Hyundai Sonata)
   thine eldest (of deux
darling damsels doggedly, diligently,

   and definitively) whose maternal hue
ma in instincts (staking out
   vocational, interpersonal, Jew
dish hiss lee courting biological objectives
   Since matriculating
   At University Of  Pennsylvania
   she seriously eyed
   the engineering curriculum,

   and as an inherent
   high achieving civilian, this rugged
   cerebral terra firmae terrain
   emitting a signal calling she knew

tubby meant foe her, thus this proud papa his new
wish availing self less father summoned,
   pressed, and mustered joyriding
   glommed within mental motor queue

thus despite experiencing a minor panic attack
   (with nausea more pronounced than usual), aye
did not want Eden (her first name)
   to feel disgruntled toward pop (hood rather die)

as opposed to slacking off where fatherhood
   concerned strove to be a beneficial guy
especially before the stroke of midnight
   will usher well nigh

till next year long overdue attention,
   now bequeathed during these twenty four hours
   when non gun shy
textile women (shunted subaltern
   second class workers)
   in New York (circa 1907),

   but said event opened to dispute,
   but less in doubt
   historical records indicate
   1914 International Women's Day held on March 8
   since then continued along
   a linkedin chain in case you wondered why.
Earned to date,
nee absolute zero
academic bankable bragging rites
explained arduous, horrendous, onerous
agonizing, heartbreaking,
nerve wracking travails

hamstringing, hijacking, hobbling...
maximization of potential
e'er since yours truly
begat when ma dada
fired off his johnny rotten *** pistol
handy dandy blues clues unsheathed

******* gun - lobbed more'n blanks
scoring bullseye pregnant truth
discovered ex post facto
yoked target with egg sealant aim
conceived coe idle upstanding ovation
fusion formed diploid
cell signifying zygote

activating, kickstarting, quickening
embryonic biological reproductive processes
intimating swell happening,
where linkedin rocketed payload
snookered triggered ultimately
yielded inchoate homunculus jackanapes

zapped out birth canal
ready for prime crying time
parturition players chemical romance loosed
yawping, writhing, tethering pipsqueak
full term newborn blasted,
the shocked monkey,

accompanied by archangel Peter Gabriel
trusty unnecessary dangling umbilical cord
obstetrician quickly severed
in utero air supply superfluous
initial gulps of oxygen
commenced fretful incessant laborious

ongoing ripsnorting unrelenting
said vicious trauma,
albeit begat courtesy
glommed deoxyribonucleic acid
mercilessly assailing psyche
metaphorically holding hostage

nee actually essentially cannibalizing
analogous to birthing simultaneous
diabolical identical twin doppelgänger
undermining since getco
proper holistic pursuits
evidenced when matriculating

learning fraught
shot thru with abysmal results
post high school
academic endeavors
evidenced by matriculation
without graduation incorporating

half dozen colleges/universities
earning measly grade point average
simultaneously accumulating
shoddy employment record
now saddled with unbridled

penuriousness - scratching out poetry
every now again
this brother grimm
writing endeavors feeble
becoming financially solvent.
Well stocked with
wordsworth lx numbered yesteryear
born as predicted by
bubba's zayda longtime seer.

While in utero premier
ultrasound detected
smudged embryonic fetus
whoosh auditory proto language unclear
surprisingly enough sounded analogous

to murmuring... huh yepper sonneteer
vaguely resembling, yes
William Shakespeare
though burbling, gurgling,
requiring absolute zero noise to hear
kickstarting, reverently warbling

difficult, diligent, distinct yawping
nonetheless reckoned as dérailleur,
viz swiftly tailored
inchoate anatomical gear
hurriedly styled pièce de résistance
yours truly born with silver dictionary

in his mouth, I f¨ç˚ˆ˜© swear
unusual biological phenomena
drew pediatricians far and near,
which (no surprise) determined
English major as academic career
matriculating upon immediately

exiting birth canal whip smart derriere
i.e. (ŧ§), spread like wildfire, where
media hounds blitzkrieg stunned to stare
not at me but bare
naked lady in no mood...ready to tear
away sophisticated audiovisual equipment

understandably on verge going nuclear
furious, (this told me later in life as here
say), she quickly (albeit groggy)
curtly demanded fair
remuneration, and milked
infant me as cash cow profiteer,

her eyes aglitter signaling,
shining, seeing... gold
let whoever sneer
earning money with initial gasp of air
freeing parents to live
within lap of luxury

world wide web sightseer,
yours truly received
royal carpet treatment everywhere
crisscrossing the globe
accoutered with most
expensive designer babywear

obliviously prattling, jabbering, gabbling...
invariably drawing throngs
across entire northern hemisphere
broadcast as podcast across atmosphere
all across the universe hoodwinking
convincing many of "FAKE" poetic story
concoction courtesy adept fictioneer.
While idling away the precious minutes
tapping into the wide whirled web
a smattering of random words and phrases
(in an attempt to jump/kick start
pinteresting material to sink figurative teeth),
thoughts pinwheeled back decades ago,

when attention attuned to forfeited, languished,
squandered... college/university chums,
whose persona, dogma, charisma...
appealed to my contemplative,
introspective, perceptive... prospective
positive interpersonal comrades.

Nonpareil ability to remember
smattering college chums
knowing their first and surname
found yours truly in good stead,
when surfing the Internet
typing critical (race theory - ha) data
within Google search bar

for long lost buddies
than daring to dial
accompanying telephone number
with various and sundry information
experiencing successful results
after a few (tailor made) swift keystrokes.

At first while sitting in front of the Macbook Pro,
no deliberate intent arose to jog memory bank
housing dormant circumstances,
thus I merely let thoughts aimlessly drift
invariably ruminating about mein kampf
in an attempt to craft another poem.

An unexpected outcome regarding
delving into the murky past,
comprising my life and hard times
where I dwelt in a bleak house,
when presence of existential crisis
even then did smolder
within the bowels of me being
analogous to a dormant volcano
gurgling ala lava lee liquid rock.

Nevertheless, I did manage
to strike up warm rapport
with a handful of fellow students,
yet such found camaraderie
fizzled and faded once I withdrew
after matriculating couple of semesters
at about half a dozen
institutions of higher learning.

Now I chide myself neglecting
potential kindred souls,
and ponder what meaningful outcome
can be distilled from fledgling acquaintances
that never given opportunity to flourish.

More challenging to nurture lapsed prospect,
but taking risks adds adventure
to mine rather fluted humdrum existence.
Well stocked with
wordsworth lxiii numbered yesteryear
born as predicted by
bubba's zayda longtime seer
while in utero premier
ultrasound detected
smudged embryonic fetus
whoosh auditory proto language unclear
surprisingly enough sounded analogous
to murmuring... huh yepper sonneteer
vaguely resembling, yes

William Shakespeare
though burbling, gurgling,
requiring absolute zero noise to hear
kickstarting, reverently warbling
difficult, diligent, distinct yawping,
nonetheless reckoned as dérailleur,
viz swiftly tailored
inchoate anatomical gear
hurriedly styled pièce de résistance
yours truly born with silver dictionary
in his mouth, I f*'* swear

unusual biological phenomena
drew pediatricians far and near,
which (no surprise) determined
English major as academic career
matriculating upon immediately
exiting birth canal whip smart derriere
i.e. (ŧ§), spread like wildfire, where
media hounds blitzkrieg stunned to stare
not at me but bare
naked lady in no mood...ready to tear
away sophisticated audiovisual equipment

understandably on verge going nuclear
furious, (this told me later in life as here
say), she quickly (albeit groggy)
curtly demanded fair
remuneration, and milked
infant me as cash cow profiteer,
her eyes aglitter signaling,
shining, seeing... gold
let whoever sneer
earning money with initial gasp of air
freeing parents to live

within lap of luxury
world wide web sightseer,
yours truly received
royal carpet treatment everywhere
crisscrossing the globe
accoutered with most
expensive designer babywear
obliviously prattling, jabbering, gabbling...
invariably drawing throngs
across entire northern hemisphere
broadcast as podcast across atmosphere
all across the universe hoodwinking
convincing many of "FAKE" poetic story
concoction courtesy adept fictioneer.
Anomalous earthling inhabited
mancave quarantined
cocooned gamesomely
knowingly protected travesty
impossible mission sidestepping,
thwarting, zapping
eventuality, inevitability,

opportunity utilitarian death
crowning glory fêted within
netherlands immortality
granted courtesy biological
proliferation offspring re
vitalizing, restoring,
requenching spent human lives.

Self sequestration commenced
instant (karma) fertilization set
narration mein kampf within
womb mommy dearest,
she within prime ovulation age
begat me in utero un-
aware how existential crisis
(mine) linkedin metaphor

whereat sanctity housing
yours truly during embryonic
/fetal development + vital
placental lifeline keyed into
present day self (christened
Matthew Scott Harris) still
analogously tethers (as
iterated above) outward adult.

He considers metamorphosis
child to adult incomplete
early during carefree preschool
boyhood heavenly bliss
short lived spunky spontaneity
squelched after first grade
February 28th, 1968 marked
turning point pronouncing
significant psychological

cleavage figuratively pitched
emotional, mental, and
spiritual withdrawal symptomatic
psyche quashed, torqued,
and wrenched full blown cycle
logical gearshift hijacked,
though undoubtedly propensity
inherent since... birth
genetic/chromosomal aberration.

Especially when fatherhood
food me gifted with beauty
full daughter diagnosed at
tender age developmental delay
within asperger's syndrome
thankfully Shana Punim, (a
person's face endearment
appellation - chiefly in Jewish
use) eligible recipient

to receive early onset supportive
services, which initial diagnosis
undertaken within her
first birthday, thus staunching
immense struggles later.
Supportive services incorporated
battery audiological, cognitive,
emotive... tests to help pinpoint diagnosis.
She underwent cost free

(needs based) therapy - most
times resistant and noncooperative
(nonresponsive) to
engage whole heartedly,
but bonding with facilitators
wrought budding relationship
with concomitant trust.
Participation with therapists
and class/campmates (the

latter structured summer programs
pertinent as she evinced
able bodied/minded
to benefit with stepped up
socialization (interpersonal
interaction - or lack thereof)
immediately apparent as preschooler,
but got bolstered
thru confidence building activities.

All thru k-12th grade
our cherished progeny
benefitted being streamlined with
classwork (and take home)
assignments custom tailored,
plus after school
remedial programs boosted flagging
shortcomings allowing,
enabling, and providing laudable

transformations, whereby
she began (to assert herself in
making major decisions),
now at age twenty one (born
February 4th, 1999) lives
with few housemates in Bend,
Oregon while matriculating
at nearby Community College.

— The End —