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Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
.do you really need a disclaimer, for this sort of work? no, not really... it's not exactly being allowed the equivalency of dropping an in excess of 2000mg of paracetamol.

the one aspect of legacy media, that still has some viability, akin to rekindling the famous extract from the movie: all the presidents men... is concerns for metal health issues of youngsters, who didn't have, the, "privilege" of being exposed to internet ergonomics, other than within the confines of gaming, they came far too late for, what replaced mp3 sharing.... ideas are not exactly sound-bites of copyright infringement...

**** me... do i really have to slap then punch
myself in the face, to remotely stay
awake while drinking ***** like pepsi
sharpshooters?
     i guess so...

   i too, "suffered" from roman bulimia,
the classical kind...
   don't ask me how i managed to make
the esophagus contender of the heart,
muscle...
                 at first it was cheap choc down
the throat, missing on brushing my
teeth for 48 hours...
   then... ******* down the throat,
like the ****-style gimmick of the Watergate
informant...
       came back up, bundled in quasi turds
packages...
               classical Roman bulimia -
eat, regurgitate, eat some more,
hell, now you have a Pompeii style
banquet of the coming of age...
laxatives?
that's no bulimia...
  bulimia is an extension of an ancient
Roman practice, akin to throwing yourself
****-naked into a nettle shrub area...
to get the "itches"...
     that method, involved in energizing
the neuron extension of the skin...
              it's a "placebo" itch...
   nettles, ancient Romans,
and bulimia like the rite of a loss of
virginity of kings...
      festering at its core... of the French court...
with a *****'s teaching apparatus,
leveraging the use of, a single "tool"...
           and even though the ancient Romans
never reached my people...
i get to abuse their phonetic encoding stratum...
bulimia... sure... i, "suffered" from it...
not really, no... i ******* enjoyed
the regurgitation process...
   anti-Grecian pederasty gimmick...
(a) taking a ****
   (b) oral regurgitation
   imitating an ancient Roman banquet
(c) / (d) ensuring the two entry points
are filled by an external source -
wishing for vanilla custard *******...
none to be...
    oops...
               so no one taught these girls
about ancient Roman bulimic
practices?
   you work on the esophagus...
                       by the time i finished
the transition period...
  i automated the esophagus reaction...
like training gymnastics for a six-pack...
no longer ******* down the throat...
you say charge? i think of
a rhino juggernaut...
           so no one bothered these girls
introducing ancient methodologies
to their predicament?
    no training of the esophagus,
no two (index + middle) fingers down
their throat to ease their larynx from
a gagging order?
    none of it?
   they'll grow out of it!
i did...
       drink a liter of ***** per day
and i'm feeling: shimmy!
          upon each nocturnal investment
that i translate into writing...
      anorexia?
    give them excess coffee...
              or strong cider...
      the most pristine aperitif...
    you can't cure anorexia with either
drips or syringes...
   you need aperitifs...
                     but please don't give them
white vinegar...
           you need a balance of alcohol
overcoming the sugars...
     strong beer is alcohol overcoming
starches... won't work...
     coffee and sugar helps...
  both simulate the pristine form of
the marijuana *****...
             it's not poison...
so why should i care?
   oh but i do care... reading this article...
troubled teenagers dodge Instagtram
   curbs on photos glorifying self-harm
...
ever tried burning out a cigarette tip
on your knuckle?
   ever wondered about
    warming up a hand of scissors and
giving yourself an indie tattoo?
   while at the same time...
relying on the mouse principle?
i.e. remaining pipsqueak clean from
making any noise?!
              cutting is so crass...
so unimaginative...
  you will not achieve the adrenaline *****
status of a stab-victim...
   there is no element of surprise...
but...
     if you really want to ingest pain?
hmm... hmm?
            heat up a scissor arm...
   and put it against your skin...
            and then... EAT... the pain...
with what you can surmount in and with,
silence...
                   cutting is too... dramatic...
at least burning yourself you have
not achieved the stature of a shedding blood...
cleaner, more effective,
think of orange recycling bags
collected at the start of the week...

              **** me though...
you seen the comradely behavior
of competing athletes, at the european
championships in Berlin,
   with the pole vaulters?
   Armand Duplantis -
congratulated for having crossed
the 6m benchmark of respectability...
now... that's sport!
football, soccer, basketball,
call it what you like...
   that's not sport, that's business,
that's advertisement...
     that's concussion cover-ups...

Epke Zonderland? also a doctor...
communist Poland believed in
sport, sport on the side,
   sport was never to reach status
of a mono-career investment...
            most of the local football
players from my hometown,
also worked less hours in
the metallurgy plant...
                  that's sport...
   a healthy balance...
which, mainstream sport is lacking...
oh look...
   the women doing the hammer throw,
or the discus...
   not exactly Vogue / Chanel catwalk
material...
    mandible beauties...

    to be honest? the doping affair
in the Olympic sports?
   but a minor setback of credibility...
     i rather watch that...
   than those pitiable 22 ballerinas in soccer.
brandychanning Jul 2023
some years back, not too difficile to recall,
revive and animate those memories of love and disasters,
but the distance is comparable to half-a-dozen
eighty day trips around the world, many frequent
flyer  miles accumulated with trips to love disasters,
interspersed with the days of shock and awe believing
(sigh) that stumbled, fumbled my way in what we silly
call true love, which is really the high of believing
that you deserved the easy way, but now know, there
is no easy way, and romance is a hard earned privilege,
and sensory deprivation can  fool you, absence makes
you vulnerable, don’t be vulnerable, stand up right,
**** out, and eyes smiling but phasers on full, nonetheless…

this not a downer, but a dis-claimer, even I claim the
never be sure of the 100% foolproof methodologies for
discerning the genius of genuine,
when the risk is the reward
maybe when your 22, even 23,
you’ll be better at true discernment,
but until then be wise,
there is no saving the day,
till your knees are scraped,
and crackling and cracking
heart seem like the same thing


but they’re not
do not confuse
causality with correlation
love is not your cause, be-all,
or even the end-all, do the  work
on your self to betterment
24/7, knowledge to be wiser
comes with vive les expériences!
and

someday you’ll senses will be tickled,
and the aroma of possibilities will
arose that dormant hunger, and may
be a correlation to another human in the
immediate vicinity, a man, swimming
in your moat without permission, then,
check him out and maybe, jump in,
once you’ve passed the red cross lifesavers
test, cause the murk is murky, and is never
fraught with just rose water, but jump a
few toes in and if you’re still sinking,
hell he’ll
find away and give him the rope to help
you climb a board, yeah, a broad tough as
clear varnished nails with a heart radiating
the nuclear fission of Strontium 90.
Strontium-90 has applications in medicine and industry and is an isotope of concern in fallout from nuclear weapons, nuclear weapons testing, and nuclear accident, and fallen love

Wikipedia
Fullfreddo May 2015
~


not a fan of reality TV,
plenty of "unreal" episodes
of my own direction stored,
available for further review
in the storage units of
neuronic black and white prison brain cells

which is why I have free~will chosen
to enumerate my poem~videos;
for easy retreat retrieval resurrection
of the travelogue of mind own insurrections

a garage of mobility devices,
car, rollerblades, cross country skis plus,
a potpourri of escape methodologies
that by definition are all round trippers,
returned to their storage unit after use

and I count them Noah~like,
two by two, as they come on board,
and when they disembark for days of
rest and recreation


this one, #4,
is born
among headstones,
just anther memory storage unit
specialized,
flag decorated,
but different

This is a one-way,
no return,
unit

but
it can be viewed at anytime
by those who care to be users,
by speaking this:

Read to me poem number four,
on a day we celebrate,
about free men of every color and persuasion,
who are calling out to
open the door to storage unit four,
so we to can perform
our once-a-year
Tour of Duty
to the those who called,
and answered with limb and love,
for by their glory,
we are
free too


to remember in any way we choose



~
memories of a veterans parade,
on a May Memorial Day
there is paint
it peels from my eyes
in long gaseous ribbons
it is punctuated by
a bright blindness
where methodologies
reach no conclusions
paint peels from my ears
in uncontested echoes
projecting a self
generated audible universe
paint peels from my mouth
in black storms
of expanded consciousness
leaving behind a particulated
paralized partition
that leaves me disconnected
in a correspondence of color
A field of snow
turning blue under moonlight
in accord with the peeling of paint
like a light emitted by relative thought
paint peels, paint peels, paint peels
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2014
Disordered Thoughts, Naturally

the ceiling fan overhead
shakes back and forth,
beginning, a train of
disordered thoughts,
this poem,
the caboose.

reimagined, the fan,
it becomes
a yeshiva boy
fervent praying,
his version of ***** dancing,
shaking rocking swaying fervor,
shuckling.

for what does he pray?

for advance forgiveness
for he is simulcast
requesting getting lucky,
to be knowing
the miracle of being
with a woman or a man,
thus, getting closer to
God,
naturally.

He will be excised
for being human,  
he will be excused  
for by definition,
by succeeding and by failing,
in his desire
to be close to divine,
he best divines the
tragicomic nature of the
human condition:
the joy of sin,
the sin,
of a life without joy,
naturally.


Clean sheets nightly,
turn down service,
chocolates on my pillow,
good night kisses
on each eye,
even spooning,
are not among the
six hundred and thirteen
positive commandments
in the Bible.
why not?

why,
cannot this be
constitutionally amended,

by voice vote
of anyone who cares
to shout out a yay,
or blink approvingly,
or signs by fingers
sugar snapping and
hands, toe tapping?

all methodologies
intended to indicate the satisfaction
that comes from changes
made not in,
but also
from
the human tissue of heartbeats,
naturally

Somewhere
a solitary fish
swims upstream,
against the current,
defying odds...

weird,
the ways things should be,
never thinking,
wondering out loud,
why compulsion impels
so many living things
to do the opposite of logical,
natural in so many ways.

never asking,
why a fish must struggle to spawn,
upwards and onwards
to die so it, and the
the man, the bear,
he will feed,
the progeny released
can live?


for if this is the
natural order,
then is not nature,
too oft logically discordant,
and thus
disorder is the
state of being,
naturally.

Something makes me
awestruck and wondrous silent,
ever time I touch a
young child's skin,
joy instantaneous takes hold,
true shock and awe
succumbs me.

cannot be just miracle mine,
the sensation of life so sweet,
wondrous on my fingertips,
that repeated stroking is
******* addictive,
naturally.

what would be the harm,
if this soft shell of derma-finery
were a permanent condition,
a constant reminder,  
we all share,
born and bred,
a premier clean slate of
natural innocence unblemished,
perma-frosted prima face facile,
naturally.

this was how
we were created,
why perforce,
was it deemed orderly,
'better'
to evolve into something
grizzled, cracked and roughened slowly,
naturally.

Strange thoughts
are my normal fare,
if you only knew
the laugh of it,  
you might recommend,
keeping them closer still,
and me
far away from you!


maybe there is a God above,
but if there is,
he be
responsible for the sleepless nights
where stanzas of
whimsy, pain and joy are soldered,
ironed into a coalescing coalition,
denoted as a
restless and disordered mind,
but of course!
not my fault,
naturally!

next time we meet,
see smiles irregularly sweet,
turning,
reversing to and fro,
for such is the
inchoate state
of what transverses
on my cellular network
these rambunctious dark hours,
naturally.
these disordered thoughts, are nature allied, nat-urally...
Left Foot Poet Jun 2017
I, (Love Thy Neighbor As Thyself)


how I would, honor this with ecstasy joy effervescent,
the simplest of methodologies, if only I,
reasoned how one safely permits  
to love myself, if only I,
knew how to love an
I

to self love well,
not a university course,
no simple answers like thirst, yet how I thirst,
hunger, burst, curse for this peculiar wisdom, please,
instinct me to navigate murderous shoals of take but give
I

who teaches this to the children?

I, parents, teachers, not ****** or pastors or
TV the great substitute for all of the above,
myself is not a selfie, no glorying got in I,
I, burdensome, never comprehended,
love thy neighbor better, love actually, no mere pretense,
if well executed, perhaps is when the trapeze line is at last

cleanly indistinguishable,

your I, my I,
both wicks will be joined, brighter lit for it,
one flame, one godlike burning, fusing,
with neither consumed, wax fusing,
but teaching easy loving
to explode the
I,


~

9:24am EST
6/2/17
airborne over the Western US of A
see I, published May 31
Poetoftheway Oct 2017
Growing Hazelnuts in the Pacific Northwest
(a conversation between two coastal poets)


we periodic update each other by
email or poetry...writers choice

~~~
my turn but
not an easy poem to commence,
for its eminent domain fraught
with relative comparisons favoring one side,
emphasizing the differences that life prefers to offer
a magnetic choice,
attract or repel

a language conundrum
an iron-strong irony that the poem's ending,
its commencement, its ceremonial completion,
far easier for me to forecast before the real work initiated
<•>
commanded  by you to write of me and mine,
with detailed, careful accuracy
as if it were a poem!

So Why Not a Poem Then?**

my hasty notes emailed upon my current status
you dislike for they are both brief and oblique,
poorly scripted, yet generous
with typological confusion, writing in this genre of
self-evaluation always is concluded by me as:

devolving into either boring, pompous or delusional aggrandizement or the final infinity-indignity of
mealy mouth whining

so an updated poem will be writ,
the happenings of my life have not changed greatly,
the struggle to earn daily bread that supports a familial universe, grows more difficult as demand for buggy whips drops even more ferociously with the onset of miracle
self-driving cars

your son fights fires, commands the earned allegiance of men who fight that which threatens the survival of others life and limb, mine, fights for the his daily bread which is only equivalent in its mind numbing insidious mental exhaustion

I make no judgements or place any emphasis erroneous

the California fire, your sons volunteered absence,
leaves living holes in your family to be filled,
and the burden shifts with the Oregon wind, northward,
upon your old-er tired-er shoulders,
a somewhat similar etching on my body
carved in Eastern Standard Time worry lines

reading between the lines of your concerns,
read of all the plans in process,
feel the cares and concerns that  lself-sacrifice impose,
among them the 75 acres of hazelnuts harvest ready
that need his missing hands to do the harvesting work

which makes my daily shifting of financial instruments
seem very, very, petite bourgeoisie

I have studied in some detail the minutiae of hazelnut harvesting methodologies which makes me into another
east coast expert poet - confident in his opinions validity,
tho devoid of any hands-on experience and would not recognize a hazelnut from the ones (nuts) floating in my head

well, here must also admit into evidence that every potted plant or tree I ever purchased in the Flower District (West 30's) died. ignominiously. that a delicious word deserved of being spoken aloud for the
accuracy of its sounds

as predicted ending this poem, far, far easier than the writing

we cross pollinate each others lives; selfishly think, nay,
convinced, each, I am the possessor of the better half of the deal, for me the loving of your ordinary of soil and ash,
*** wee football, the honest labor of building things
is getting an honors degree in sharing

though,
though worrying about our children
seems to be deemed a bi-coastal commonality

perhaps the Yankees will win tonite, (nope)
perhaps the Giants will upend the Seahawks tomorrow, (nah)
items of passing interest that will soon pass,
for your real serious worries are
combulated confabulated and combusted with mine,
what is yours - now mine shared

this intersection happens when two poets from opposite ends of these united states cross pollinate via manly hugs,
75 acres of friendship that need harvesting,
and the earned respect of insight into our singular
psyche so rich-earth deserved

with manly hugs and respect

your friend the n-man
Oct 20-22, 2017

~~~
3:31am
onlylovepoetry Nov 2016
(I) Love Thy Neighbor As Thy
self

~

how I would
honor this with
joy effervescent,
this simplest of methodologies

if only I,
could permission myself
to love myself

if only I,
knew
how to love


~~

(II) redemption: the city of man reinventing himself

busting bursting, this city,
ceaseless change,
old discardation,
how blind am I,
skyscrapers built in a day
how have I failed to notice

the estate changes
a master plan unknown,
the reasoned limits ever stretched.
in defiance of taste and sense,
obedient to Babel tower's net-result,
the miscegenation of language

but this is a ruse issue,
an example of me/man,
this new born spawn,
a wagging tail of

a man I know,
a failed inventor,
nary a patent
to his name

years on years
he patiently awaits
for one true inspiration
a redefinition, a redemption,
a reinvention, a new cornerstone
to lay upon it a new foundation

just a clue, a single block,
he can clean erase
start over, inaugurate
a recommencement celebration
to  begin the same mistakes

here be the rub,
the irritation,
the seed comes implanted
and then
wind spread
can be only repaired, replaced
when cross pollinated

with the love of a foreign body
and his only crime, love poetry,
his crime alone, for unopened
it, and he, both-awaiting the time
when others come impatient

to bulldoze him aside

~~~

(III) Three

three

an oddity
an uneven symmetrical imagery


"only love poetry"

a three sum,
- three legged stool-

there is nothing new under the sun,
whispers the Psalmist


this I whisper
only, alone, one,
be no such!



only love poetry
until


~~~~


postscript

*if only I,
knew
how to love
RyanMJenkins Feb 2013
But Why, and whom does it affect?

Where is it, that the actions will reflect?

When will answers show themselves, when concludes the test?

"I've been wondering for too long!" I protest.



Will I reach, a desired level of clarity?

Will the feat, be much more than a dare to me?

...Curiously I spy forward...


My head's an over-animated scoreboard, emphasizing the score of the opponent


Yet.. Today is a new day.

If the chance is taken, isn't there a possibility that I too fall prey?

True, just like the cat that was killed, or so they say.

Maybe it was just a tale of a tail, given from those too scared to change direction.

Those who follow suit now live in a certain detention, without mention, or ever expanding into the next dimension.  

But what if they had taken the next step?

The conclusion of the saying was something I could not accept,

Now using the unknown as fuel, I leapt..

Not knowing if I could make it

My head was perplexed, riddled with anxiety, I didn't know if I could take it!


With a thump,

My eyes opened up,

Revealing a new reality.

I was guided by faith, and truly believe I've touched on a divine sense of spirituality.

I let go of the naysayers and everyone that had tried using hassling methodologies,

Because I took a necessary leap of faith, in order to better me.


If I failed, I would die trying,

but at least with false beliefs I would not be confined.

Before my eyes, a natural goldmine, beauty previously undiscovered.

I had trusted myself and have never felt so full of wealth, now standing in the land of the lovers.

Everything and everyone had a bright and shiny aura, radiating bliss.

Had I known such a place of magnificence exists,

I would've trusted my intuition more, rather than certain people, and came when we were kids!

Alas, in the midst of all this thinking, I don't even want to be blinking my lids,

Because I no longer want to miss any, of *this
.

What matters is right here and right now,*

It's seems I've ascended, like I'm on a cloud..

No negativity here, I don't think that it is allowed!

Because this is a new land of possibility

I haven't even moved yet but I'm so glad I didn't retreat!

Then something tickled my legs, right by my feet, looked down and was surprised to see,

A short-haired cat, walking elegantly.  In disbelief I watched it so free, when it popped in my head,

"Are they still talking about me?"

.. Had this cat really just used telepathy??

I wondered if I had been living a dream, and then the cat turned back and winked at me..
Edward Coles Mar 2015
Another cup of coffee,
another last cigarette,
waiting to get over that something
I had never managed to hunt
and pin down in a display case.

Chase the thoughts with endless distraction,
habitual reactions to commonplace panic;
the skin on your milk,
the lines in your face-
the colonies in your bedsheets.

A futile blur of words,
ancient shapes and poems,
I scour neurotropic fields of sunflowers:
some organic high,
a steady-state escapism.

Houdini would be proud.
This brave escape from detection,
'till only odour and circumstance
can pick me from the crowd,
this red-eyed happiness,
this stalwart blue.

Chase love down with a box of wine,
old methodologies to find something new;
the drunk-dial confession,
the marks on your arm-
the lies in your back pocket.

Another cup of coffee,
another chemical cloak;
another hourglass intervention.
Meaning slips through hands like sand
when you decorate your life

with obsessive mirrors
and uncontrollable smoke.
C
As long as we choose to move forward,
we can find the inward strength to…
hold onto our Hope; pain ends, when
we look to Christ and His Love for us.
Therefore, let’s adjust our backward

thinking, by cleansing our thoughts
with the beauty of His Holy Word; as
we begin to trust Him and apply Truth
to our lives, positive results occur.
Are we gambling, rashly casting lots

for ungodly outcomes to succeed, based
on Worldly methodologies? Can we learn
to be patient and rightly divine God’s
Word? What will it take us to remain,
in His sight… pure, holy and chaste?
Inspired by:
Rom 15:13; 1 Tim 1:1b; Psa 3:2-6; 1 Pet 1:3-6

Learn more about me and my poetry at: amazon (dot) com

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Joseph Martinez May 2016
I see others friendly, looking well
I'm in Hell, I think

What a sad feeling to stumble into all the old familiar footfalls

The suffering still fresh
And there
I feel the omnipresence
of the bleak shadow of the
world upon me
in malignant faces
at the grocery store
check-out
they operate in slow, sedated
methodologies of madness
I am sprung up from the
cool tile floor
like a misplaced statue bound
in frozen forms of observation

I park in a thrift store parking lot and cry
for you and for myself
mostly for myself

Time's ashes are diffuse and ever-present
living history in the living now
a ******* of the sacred cow is laughing
on coasts of crooked filth
and candy wrapper oases where
dead bird bones mingle in the
putrid ferns

No time to be found relaxed
no patience to be born to anything
but
slow agony of empty wishes called back
reflections, false assumptions
selfishness and neglect

Thank god for this momentary reprieve
from pointless self-analysis in the
broken mirror halls of control

no no no
thank you

I feel saddle-bagged
lost with worry
in some constant vague arrest
plucking at the chicken's feet

the fear itself unreal
broken, beaten, gone
phantoms of this self
all the world is polished chrome
and I am but an image
looking back

amazing how at time minutes
stretch off to infinity showers
& I **** the thicket therein
gone is now but
never ending
shalom
shalom
again

I'm sheltered in the maggot crop
Made right by them will be the cry heard,

make right by them and by us all is the flag draped over the heads and graves of all the victims of a world so cold.

Make right by them that have stood long and strong in you windows pane.

Make right by them who have suffered the manipulations, deceptions, accusations, and judgments for all the windows pains.

Make right by them that have tirelessly stood against the tyranny and reign of the braggart, ******, authoritarian wielded heavy handed.

make right by them that have revealed the horrors of a present and future which threatens the very soul of all mankind, all while they were held down, mislead, lied too, limited, edited, and called out for the very same deeds and means for which all mankind has indulged.

Make right by them that withstood the virtual casting couched parts and rolls, rolled out to play the thorny crown , the king Aurthur and Merlin round, as they rounded the round tables so roulette  and black jacked in their get it all but play this part tick for tat all without a fact offered or even a word of truth spoken back, nor the hand shaken in an eye to eye, hows my driving doing, **** son, he did **** fine and not claiming he was a god as was seemingly offered and even demanded at the time.

Make it right by them who forced themselves to walk the longest miles in all directions with conflicting directions of supported desire, all the while waking and gracing a smile and a nod to all with un shaken eye and bold *** soul to the core of the thing that was important in all.
To find a recourse, a show and tell of who or what the hell was killing so many soldiers and lost teenage and adult souls in these treacherously invasive windows.

Make it right by them who withstood the storms and the reign ( not to be confused with the covering rain ) of un tempered temptations of the harsh and hasty delegations of self pains, unanswered questions and self doubts that were as in all people there the whole way, and at the end of the day, while the moon was high, and even high and shinning in the sky, were bold in the face of things that cause kings to take a knee and sell their souls for the fear they have of those very unbelievable yet very real and indeed powerful things that also live and breath or so it sure as a man made hell be, they sure as hell seem to truly and without a doubt live and breath. for the game of "Go" is one that was being on the table of a field in a desert don't you know, houses full and yards of the laser light shows and lightning clouds rolling slow, where oh where did all those boastful men of opposition seem to go, did they not find these things so interesting a show as to stick around and introduce themselves to these folks or critters? Oh, by the way no offense though, the critter thing is a shifting shiftless thing of me as well , or as it is told.

Make right by them who under the longest of heroic hours pressing the pressed flesh of distress and bested half dead with no rest and the bank over drawings to paint a picture as best they could of the events and stirring as they withstood, for the chances and ****** amazing dances of switch backs and double meanings did they overcome the forceful pushing and the mental screaming.  They who showed the world all they could, of what had happened, what was possibly real, fake and misunderstood. They who walked the Moon and not as the dates and times of changed time and rhyme would have one believe, oh no dear child, did you not see? For this of them that walked the Moon as the claims were made that they walked him first, but lets not mistake, a mind c an recall a change of things, things you think are here first, they have on occasion caused a good eye to reverse and remember how it was not so, in a time that they recall in their mind, so. is there a complaint against the mental weapons and struggles that he had to wield, being the one thing they against him could not fell, the child and not the father, not the husband, not the man, not the trained operator or James Bond double oh seven of the real and fine *** gentle man, but that of the child he had inside, that rocked your heart from the darkest down and brought it to light?

Make it right by them who stand to this day, even in the stains and the judgments of mans simple and funny ways, they that cranked out the nights to get a handle on what had happened without a mere relief insight, without a truth been told, a fact or compensation for the games and losses and gains of others ever to them been told though they have been accused of their souls being bought and sold, as the offer and promises of wealth and freedom and all that they ever needed or wanted were to unfold, funny, they still never sold their souls nor their names, nor their right to stake a real and true claim to it all, yet no bank over filled with resources that spelled in their names make life  good to live and sure a **** never wanted your fame, yet framed they were, all along the way.

Make it right by them who asked for the proof of their wrongs, extraordinary accusations need extraordinary proof, and of these things, they provided the only proof to any and all as they walked the walk that you could not, would not and dare not walk for you know how bad we all do fall. Yes they fell, sure as hell they fell just the same as your *** would and if they not be made right by a short time sight, they are willing to bet , all bets are off for you ever finding freedom, free will, free your child from the enslavement that they witnessed in the darkest of nights. For what was seemingly missed  by all, I fear was the revealing of how bad and deep this sinister thing is.

Though they relied on all to record, document and notice the things wrong, as they walked and suffered for the benefit of all those in the world whom are not the wealthy, powerful or fortunate to not fall victim to these technologies and soul ****** methodologies to win a war so insidious that time and the perceptions of all mankind hang in the balance it seems, though indeed they were limited in what they could see, they kept pushing and pulling, they kept raising and falling, they kept failing to find the relief and justice for all victims and their families, nor for their own family nor their own sane mind to find and kind hand or word to say, honey he is coming back, don't forget you had a plan.... hang in their sister, he is a true and honest if not flawed man.... where just these sorts of words arranged in a sentence of sequenced alignment one could have saved the family future damage and embarrassment, yet, we did find, no play in the way of lets help them and save at least this one day for them to in the future say, .... what would they have said on that day. and meant it in every soulful way, ****, guess we may never know if it keeps going this way.
But then again, I never was a fan of John Dee, Jack parsons, Alister Crowley and Franchise Bacon, Shakespeare or what ever it is that is that ******* name, Nor were it I ever a fan of their "Great Work" that this seems to be in its fame and glory , or there the lack of, Son. wink

Make it right by them who with faith , hope, love, skill and at times dumb luck made this whole play for the nations heart and the enslavement of us all, a bit harder to pull off and maybe give the people what is needed to wake them to the horrors and the depth of how wronged we all have been wronged.  for if you disagree then surely you must be none to a friendly fan of the X of a man and his fam.

Make it right to them, is the battle cry that should be sounded from the hearts of the very souls that have been also wronged and held down.

Made it right by us all, this is the all in all, and all in all you bet your *** i;m all ******* in.
Rise Today by Alter Bridge Lyrics
h ttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U8hvyj00k3M

Blackbird by Alter Bridge Lyrics
h ttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TjMPdgZC2xA

All Ends Well Lyrics
h ttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=akykqrWbNKM

Not to be too needy, greedy or demanding, but, is it time to make it right by us or are we the only ones to be seen as unforgiven and unworthy of mankind's notion of salvation?
Or is that only left up to the task of some fictional guy and his friend called Batman and the Joker (Bane) ?   and you thought i had jokes.
In lifeless patterns of repetition,
the congregation of the dead assemble,
eddying around the Light of Truth;
lacking reverence, they sadly tremble

and cringe during the Sunday Service,
seeking loopholes from accountability;
after all, regular attendance grants
the sacred status of Church nobility.

Meanwhile, frustrated ministers hurl
their verbal rocks, in futile attempts
to **** out their spiritual deadwood,
unaware that their righteous contempt

reveals their inability to love others.
Some lacking understanding may wander in,
since membership dues may be optional.
Come join the Church Petri dish of sin

to learn new zombie techniques of gnawing
on the flesh of religious, blind souls;
with Bible clubs and tongues of hell-fire,
receive your training and go on patrol.

Most folks know that ‘iron sharpens iron’;
so come and let us beat you mentally down;
since we’re unable to mature any further,
let’s make sure that you leave with a frown.

Learn secret methodologies for developing
a critical spirit and a unloving tongue;
come fill the vacancy of front-row pews;
come and join us, while you’re still young.
.
.
.
Author notes
.
Inspired by:
Prov 21:16; 2 Cor 4:4; John 3:19-20; Eph 4:17-19
.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
.
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
Chapter XVIII
Parapsychological Plot

They were in the parapsychological hypnosis session all undaunted by everything that could happen. The journey of a life through the hidden spaces of past existence was a reality. It all begins in antiquity where Vernarth was hypno transported to meet his inmates and comrades. He proved to be a great defender of libertarian ideals and above all not to betray his formation of great leadership of the greatest empire, with his immeasurable feats of achievement, of this super experience of reunion for a world past to more reunions for having lived and relive them again.

The master director of this great feat, acknowledged never having attended something that is compared to him, it is an unprecedented fact that would mark a new milestone in his specialty and the study of parasychology. The doctor together with his assistants arranged to reevaluate a new systemic therapy policy, in exchange for their own way of life, generating the largest plan of the episode of intercommunicativeness to planes and dimensions of the ancestral memory of the entire created world and those that its beneficiaries have been able to verify.
In the immediate vicinity of the clinical consultation, hundreds of people, curious, journalists and the media gambled. To which one of them asks the doctor:

Journalist: Dear Sir, I would have a coffee ... just when I heard about this great news. We decided to come to his interview. I consult you. What has been the greatest content that has differentiated this from the rest of the procedures that you have carried out, and how will your future method be to reconvert your specialty?

Parapsychologist says:  there are undoubtedly innumerable connections in our life and beyond ...., But now I have found routes that I did not think I was capable of knowing at this point. And I think that now they will be more than I could count in my entire active professional life.

At that moment, his assistant called him urgently to tell him that an emergency had arisen. They both rush in and enter the cabin. And they manage to perceive that Vernarth was with the clothes on a sofa from the time of the exploits of 331 a. C. requested that they excuse him for his demands and needs, but he had a lot to propose and deliver to his comrades who were in Bumodos. Considering his beloved wife, Walekiria, who was as always preparing elixirs and essences for the restoration of the recipe for his chest and limbs. He had an urge to improve this whole process before the next Ekadashi, to enlist with new stages of his worksheet. Surely he should return to Patmos to take over the pantry and library of Saint John the Evangelist. He had to restore local buildings, house rooms, temples, regional development works, and regional art. Another elementary task was to take care of agriculture, and obey Hera's designs, for the next millennia to re-awaken from the cultures that survive on themselves. “Another of their great passionate obligations was to ride through Macedonia for the sunrises that run through the grasslands of grass and the swarm of hieratic insects, when the Oracle of Dodona made them polish their germinated seeds in the arms of dawn turned into Fireflies. He flew with his horse, appearing to be acclaimed from all over the world for his “Liturgical Conclave”. To surrender in its entirety to the pazos  of time on their Alikanto, beyond all the Eras and Millennia incapable of evading the disgraced ways by consolidating a new firmament. ”
Countless times Vernarth and Alikanto are seen crashing into the gleaming valleys and shores, encapsulated in the fields with the golden hooves of their steed, ushering in a new rebirth of their adventures, which are more than the same as God would entrust to a individual anxious to reissue Genesis or a new collaborative proposal with the Evangelist in Patmos.

Parapsychological Session resumes:
Vernarth, wake up. And she comments to those who accompanied her. ” I thought that as a child playing with weapons was only entertainment. Today I have realized that this never ends. Now I know that they are waiting for me in Patmos”. He quickly says goodbye to everyone and the rest remain undaunted by such a decision. Vernarth continues; I'm leaving with Raeder and his pelican Petrobus. Alikantus is also grazing for this long journey. Even every time he takes me away, he gets an allergy in his nose that makes him lose his nose. But my magic steed laughs at the ridicule and the decline of all doubts imposed on it. From Gaugamela who has had intermittences with his nose, but we will arrive at Patmos. The afternoon is darkening and is tinged with predominant whitish-white colors; Raeder arrived, entering through the large gentle window. They were preparing to begin the journey.

Vernarth greets him with a gesture of courtesy to Raeder, who offered to leave running from the new exile, it would be one more contingency. From that moment, he stood in front of Petrobus. Telling you; The Great Hour is undefeated in the face of the setback, it will be a great amenity to be with it.
Petrobus says: Greetings my lord! With my master Raeder we have been attentive to this moment, to overcome the best wishes of taking him to the Dodecanese and then from there to the Grotto of Patmos.  Where well known will be welcome in the house of the Evangelist. The time has come to leave ...!

“At that moment, Vernarth remembers an animal that was in a forest when he went to collect species as a child. He lunged at the animal; Vernarth looked at him squarely, then left. The animal followed him walking for several hours, until suddenly he looked to the side and was gone. He still misses this entire magical continuous event and with this cycled image of the animal kingdom. When he was preparing to arrive at his palace almost at night, he appears again before him, the animal showing him the desire to accompany him. Vernarth  looks at him and they start running, each time imposing more speed on the go. Vernarth screamed with contagious laughter and happiness. While his companion fired circulating cries that were confused with soft longings to address him by the middle ear and rule him. But beyond there, they both laughed almost turning and merging two into oneself, festively eager to laugh at the secretion that every man fills his soul, have another similar competing in a race without knowing where to go ... or why to leave? . "

React from that moment; Petrobus was blowing the room with strong and swirling winds. Raeder takes Petrobus by his golden feet and prepares for the journey.
Raeder says: Vernarth await us! We have to suspend ourselves at the dawn that glides through the winds of the wheat fields of the Dodecanseso. Petrobus will go near the iris of the great atmospheres, and will be supported by the great masses of winds that will take us to Greece. We intuit that Kanti, will then pass to escort us and join our events beyond the bend where the guidelines collide where the sea and the sky end, where Zeus will give us the good things.
  
Parasicological ellipsis in Piacenza:
Piacenza, Italy in 1887. It was right here where all the parapsychological regression was carried out. In the two-story house, he had two feline pets; Rannura and Catutto and three Tupac dogs, and three Canela and Bianca females, followed by Mara. These mysterious and resilient cats, at night they used to scare their inhabitants changing the tone of their meows by those of large beasts. But generally they were seen sleeping in their bedroom, one of them looked at them from the closet and pondered a compliment. The other was quiet near the feet of some of the two from Vernarth or Walekiria.

Its dwelling It is located in the padana plain at an altitude of 61 meters above sea level, on the south bank of the Po when the bushes change in autumn to the average of adult trees and the Trebia river meets in the west and the Nure torrent in the east from the city. She was always going to trek a few kilometers south, close to the slopes of the Piacenza hills, the first propagations of the Ligurian Apennines. Here they all passed through together, in such a way that there was no time to clean up or calm down in trifles. It was all playful diplomacy. Even when they rested, the pets teased him to continue with the ritual of running and running in circles through the groves, some flowery for ***, yellow lantanas, ornamental citrus etc. And why not name Pyramid Cypress or cemeteries...

Here his brother Etréstles always came in the spring with Drestnia from Messolonghi, Greece. Lía, the Muse who loved them both when they attended the Tuscan festival, usually came to visit him. Where he met Maddalena Tressi,  her greatest fortune teller of her regressive ancestral journeys, great inspirer of her artistic, religious and secular works at a great spring carnival. Whose name derives from the one used by Greeks and Latins to designate the lands occupied by the Etruscans, a territory of fertile plains surrounded by the main mountain ranges. The Tuscan landscape is characterized by the undulations that form the hills invaded by vineyards, olive trees and cypresses, especially in the footsteps of the Troncosada, which were and will be reunions of Italian families, of which there is no support or limestone that remains intact to its omnipresence.

In 790, a capitular of the Carolingian king of Italy, Pipino, in whom he acted on behalf of his father Charlemagne, prohibited the citizens of Piacenza by deliberately granting citizenship to those who depended on the king, thus allowing someone to escape control of this. The prohibition prevented escape from royal power. The city became famous on May 10, 1847 when the annexation to Piedmont took place, which started the long process of the Unification of Italy, which culminated in 1870 with the incorporation of the Papal States. Vernarth undoubtedly before closing the door inside his house opened it for a well-deserved new constitution of the right to acquire.

From here he went on great excursions to the Island of Sardinia in the autumn, where they lived from 1874 to 1877. Sailing trips were true insignia that shone through the waters of the green Celestine Sea. In an emerald sea between large and small coves of white sand ... on the celestial map of Sardinia, great syllogistic light of the Mediterranean for only them, with a territory full of galleries and bookstores, mainly mountainous for their walks and a half barefoot in summer, and with high chamber music peaks. The presence of Vernarth and Etréstles, attracted a lot of attention here, because they were seen every 50 or a hundred years, always seeing that their environment appeared the same, but humanly different. Sometimes in this territory, there are large areas that remain magically intact, inhabited by deer, wild horses and birds of prey, rich in forests with ancient trees, ponds and small desert areas where they both rose, to dissipate the sea that reigns with its colors and it is insinuated in the hidden coves, along the coast and on the beaches in the most frequented towns. The Emerald Coast, on account of impatient dreams in a little gem such as Porto Cervo, Porto Vecchio and Porto Rotondo, the latter facing the Gulf of Cugnana.

Great commotion attributed their curiosity to them as they were older, and where every millennium to be inaugurated they went to the nuragic complexes scattered throughout the territory: Unique monuments in the world that serve as testimony to an ancient and mysterious culture, dating from the fifteenth century to VI BC The nuraga, built with large stone blocks, were developed around a central tower in the shape of a cone trunk, which transmits solidity and power. These are archaeological sites where signs of ancient rituals and domestic life can still be found today.

In this algebraic cradle, it is where his Liturgy will connect linearly with Patmos and evangelization methodologies. All the seasons of travel to this mysterious area, he summoned them to meet and plot the 1,020 km. Where no thread of life is left unpatched without their repeated prayers before each glass of wine served, not even in the darkness of the Mausoleums themselves of the Troncosada, noble family originally from Venezia, in the early middle Ages.


Ellipsis in Tuscany, Villa Gamberaia
Vernarth, and Etréstles and Valekiara, are approaching the coincidence of Tuscany. Once they stayed in Sardinia, a coastal sailboat transported them in the middle of a stormy day. It was a great happy day to arrive in La Spezia.

They arrived, in a bright cart devastated by the olive trees, near the Villa Gamberaia, after eating some bacon and cheese sandwiches. This villa was originally a country house, which was owned by Matteo Gamberelli, a bricklayer, in the early 15th century. His sons Juan and Bernardo became famous architects by the name of Rossellino. After Bernardo's son sold Jacopo Riccialbani in 1597, the house was greatly enlarged, then almost completely rebuilt by the next owner, Zenobi Lapi, documents from the time mention a limonaia and the landscaped bowling alley that is part of the garden in today's design. Here they parked and at night they followed the Liturgy, highlighting those that coincided with Lent of Easter, where one day they were seen talking with Petrarch and Laura de Noves. Here Vernarth with them offering the modest auction that without a doubt would bet one day on this Villa of immemorial centuries with great challenge to its ruse, and of such architecture.

“A little more history…, The flower bed was presented with French-cut broderies in the 18th century, as can be seen in a detailed map of the estate described by Georgina Masson. The olive trees have always occupied the slopes below the garden, It has a distant view of the roofs and towers of Florence. The monumental fountain set on a steep hill on a side flank of the garden terrace has a seated god flanked by lions in stucco relief in a niche decorated with pebble mosaics and padded masonry. ” Here at the Verbena of a long feast day, everyone together with Vernarth got drunk with Corinthian Wine, which they brought and did not stop from the swing of the rhythm of the music that made them foresee their multi existence beyond their limitless sensibilities.

The parapsychological plot took them through multiple spaces of their frantic journey, as if they were being recently procreated by their heavenly and earthly parents, before they resumed the end with Kanti, Reader and their pelican Petrobus. This outcome would mark a new path of valleys on valleys, to shelter and fill their memories, especially their great navigation to the Dodecanese and Patmos, so close and intertwined with Sardinia as two islands united by the same new ocean in which we will have to navigate, and domains to ride shipped around the world.

To be continued , under eition
parasychological plot
Ignatius Hosiana Jun 2016
Did you know that gold is dug and washed out of muck?
You miss a lot attaching so many strings
for the so many terms attached and conditions
just limit the talent you are likely to capture
As an intending or a yet to be business consultant
I honestly believe the inefficiency we see is resultant
and consequent to the boxes we create
thereby numbing the personnel our recruiting and selection curates
Don't get me wrong on this but even if I had a first class
I would not find joy being an employee to such an employer
seldom do our results show our capability
especially in the developing nations where our results
are usually subject to lots of questions
What I mean is I would grudgingly take up such jobs
where aspects like a master's degree is an added advantage
for to me I believe in the semi skilled, degrees and diplomas being vintage
this being the main reason I might take up a job to manage the HR
to prove to the world that today's academia doesn't define who we are
I'm not saying that if a company hires me I'll hire failures
No, all I'm saying is sometimes extremes are dangerous
like Wilde put it, too much is as bad as too little
Let's put away these archaic and very conservative measures
and emphasise aspects like talent and character strength
Not every good medical student obviously becomes a good surgeon
not even do good literature scholars turn into good authors or poets
We have to start realising that some go to places to survive
we seldom choose the places we end up in but endure to be alive
We need to be better employers to find better employees
in my company, the papers will not be as vital
as the man in the suit, let's not take life as a bible
especially in the business world where things often go strange
those greater than us adopted the basics for that was their change
we shouldn't keep walking in their footprints
We can find jungles and propagate our own path
leave our prints and set pace for the fresh dynamo to power generations
A million employers are going to miss me because of such rigidity
I've been a mediocre business student and I admit
I could not hit the pinnacle of preset peak for I had my limits
but I'm going to be one of the greatest transformers of my time
You can take this for pride or just another rhyme
someday these so called egocentric first class employers
will hire me to enlighten their classic fraternity
on the different ways we the open minded weave
our learned with the inborn to function as an entity
so to my would be employers... do not fall for the anchor heavy vitaes
neither should you be fooled by the experienced suits and ties
I'll come to knock clad in my miserable second hand shirt
with dusty shoes, with my collar sweat marred with dirt
but beware there's always more to every story than told by the cover
don't be hood winked to go picking like you'd choose a lover
to leave out the seemingly ugly asset for **** liabilities
cause those predefined sample spaces omit so much abilities
destroy the box,set no boundaries to let every sailor try out their luck
business is a Sea with so much in the uncharted to see
we risk fazing out boundaries but the essence of business is ecstasy
we ain't experienced but carry a flame denied to some used embers
whose blaze can fuel success in the egoistic business chambers
We can't stick to ancien methodologies to castrate the bull
for we can set up our own modern and operational dominion
no hard feelings, I'm just an enthusiast airing his opinion
Peace, straight outta the Makerere business school.
Joanne Heraghty Jan 2016
She opened up her mouth to speak:
To tell the world her thoughts.
Her words needed to be heard,
To the surface, the truth needed to be brought.

She wrote letters to the world,
That must have been swallowed into space.
And she scheduled meetings with world leaders,
So she could meet them face to face.

She quit her low paid job,
And pushed her course aside,
To delve into her research,
And travel round, world wide.

The skies took many colours,
And the air held many voices.
Her monsters never shut up.
She lost hope in her many choices.

She snapped each pencil in site,
And smashed each pen she owned.
She ripped up every sheet of paper.
And her research was disowned.

After stepping into the office,
Of each leader of the world.
To hear the same ******* laughter,
They all used toward a little girl.

Her heart cracked in a million places,
And tears swelled up behind her eyes.
She removed herself from their presence,
Without saying any goodbyes.

All she wanted was to fix the world.
She believed it could be done.
She constructed various methodologies,
To win a fight that needed to be won.

You supported her hand-in-hand.
You stood by her all the while.
At the times she lost her faith,
You were the one who brought back her smile.

She never needed a comic book hero.
She just needed to be strong.
And no matter what the rest of the world thought,
You helped her keep going all along.

Her beauty alone could break hearts,
And her words could mend souls.
Her touch could heal wounds,
And her voice could gain control.

No one knows what motivated her.
No one ever seemed to care.
I'm surprised you never asked her,
Since you were always there.

Her silence was impenetrable.
Her emotion unprovoked.
Until one day the world just hit her,
And her silence became revoked.

She was not as happy as everyone assumed,
And she required a helping hand,
To catch her when she fell down,
And to teach her how to stand.

She told you all her theories,
And she gained trust in you, like a friend.
How could you have been the reason,
She gave up on her dreams in the end?

All she needed was someone loving,
Who would always keep her strong.
To tell her that, no matter what the rest of the world thinks,
She could never, ever be wrong.
31st December 2015

Copyright © All Rights Reserved Joanne Heraghty

Fictional Dependency - Part II: The Destructive Bystander
Nathan Young Jun 2016
We're not on the same frequency
and we're not on the same page of ideologies.
We cannot embrace at a lover's parallel
for that would require compromised methodologies.

We're not equal; we haven't been for some time.
To be viewed as VIP like you, would be stellar,
but to be tangible, it lusts for a certain desire
and I yearn to be more than just a cellar dweller.

We're not exposed in the same ray of life's sunlight.
Shunned away in a rotting shadow, you radiate perfection.
I plead for the warmth, for some sort of direction, and of your affection.
You're too busy dancing  in the fields, oblivious of your rejections.

If we could just be on the same wavelength,
or perhaps bookmarked on the chapter of  compromise,
we could reignite the spark we once had,
so that maybe some day, I too, may see the sunrise.
Cedric McClester Apr 2017
By: Cedric McClester

We’re faced with a contagion
As deadly as the Black Plague
And so it finds us engaged with
The scourge of the modern age
Yesterday we were challenged by
A disease that was spreading
And similarly today it seems
That’s the place we’re heading

One thing I know for sure
It crosses all demographics
And so we search for a cure
A stop light for it’s traffic
Some call it an affliction
Cos’ that’s their frame of mind
But opioid addiction
Is the bane of all mankind

As we attempt to treat it
Because we heed the call
We know to defeat it
That one size won’t fit all
Multiple methodologies
Will have to be employed
Though the ideal is always abstinence
Let’s not get paranoid

There are other approaches
Out there on the horizon
Like medically assisted treatment
That conveniently ties in
To the awful situation
We find ourselves in today
Doctors providing treatment
Is another option they say









Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017.  All rights reserved.
In a 2013 study, human scientists wished to know
The depths of the heart of the common rat,
And devised an experiment to prove that
Empathy can exist even in the smallest of creatures.

The scientists, in their logocentric wisdom
Born out of centuries of Western philosophical tradition,
Metaphysical assumption, and scientific methodologies,
Trapped one rat in a tightly confined space and watched.

To their small-minded astonishment, the rats performed,
Again and again, the role of savior to their fellow rat.
They did this without need for compensation or compulsion
And, if given, shared the reward with their de-caged brethren.

But what the scientists failed to realize is, as is often the case,
That they themselves, with all their complex cognitive capacity,
Had failed an experiment which the rats navigated with ease.
For it was them who had caged the rat, and rats who set them free.
Will the provocative implications
of quantum entanglement, be the…
underlying form of communication
that’s invoked during our prayers
to God? Do the unknown sounds and
tones spoken in “tongues” unlock a
power that enables the connection

between us and God? Can we learn
meaningful methodologies that… draw
us, closer to Him? What non-local
realms of Heaven, can be pierced…
with our words? Can our spirits
soar to their greatest heights,
when our hearts genuinely burn…

with the bright fire of Faith?!
Author notes

Inspired by:
Col 4:2; 1 John 5:14; Phil 4:6-7;
Rom 12:12; Isa 45:8; Luke 3:21

Learn more about me and my poetry at: amazon (dot) com

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2018, All rights reserved.
To some people, birds are
nothing more than eye candy;
to others, a vital part of
Earth’s ecosystem; how far

should one go to study them
in detail? Between exotic
mating rituals and building
skills, what unseen gems

can we observe? The Father
feeds and cares for all fowl,
even though they don’t sow,
reap or gather; why bother

trying to interpret His plan,
when His methodologies rise
up, beyond our ability to see?
Does He reveal Himself to Man

with genius, creativity and by
the majesty of the Heavens?
Of course, He does! Why else
do we raise our hands, sigh…

and purpose to praise Him?
Inspired by:
Matt 6:26, 10:29-31; Psa 8:4

Learn more about me and my poetry at: amazon (dot) com

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Cedric McClester Apr 2017
We’re faced with a contagion
As deadly as the Black Plague
And so it finds us engaged with
The scourge of the modern age
Yesterday we were challenged by
A disease that was spreading
And similarly today it seems
That’s the place we’re heading

One thing I know for sure
It crosses all demographics
And so we search for a cure
A stop light for it’s traffic
Some call it an affliction
Cos’ that’s their frame of mind
But opioid addiction
Is the bane of all mankind

As we attempt to treat it
Because we heed the call
We know to defeat it
That one size won’t fit all
Multiple methodologies
Will have to be employed
Though the ideal is always abstinence
Let’s not get paranoid

There are other approaches
Out there on the horizon
Like medically assisted treatment
That conveniently ties in
To the awful situation
We find ourselves in today
Doctors providing treatment
Can control this disease they say







Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017.  All rights reserved.
onlylovepoetry Jul 2018
Friday Night K-nulcking Under III

<•>

it is a (my) three day weekend
it is now
Saturday late morning

Friday night we went to Joe’s Pub,
you could look it up,
to hear marvelous stories and marvelous singing

then
full stop

homeward bound (apologies Paul),
we swap Lulus for p.j.’s,
and alliterative alternatives

after having bathed and showered
alternatively alternatingly debatingly
the meritocratic merits of bathing methodologies
and our respective but not respectable
technological techniques and sundry technicalities
are peaceable declared tied

we have not left the confines
of public globalist bedding since thenning,
and no plans for departeeing
not even for meals
or anythinging

(ok, barbecue chicken not cool to eat in bed)

multitasking multiplayering
music, poetry, Sunday NY Times,
action movies non-stop,
even napping,
anything
i want,
as I am the only worker bee
celebrating a workless Mondayee

periodically and often, I kiss the
knuckles on either of her hands

and we laugh at my joking insistence
for she vociferously denies,

most badly connives,
that she is
(with a pronounced hard K)
K-nulcking under
to my every demand
as she is equally guiltily
and capable of excellent excessive
leadership in the art of slumbering parteeying,
ergo all good

we still have Monday to resolve an unraging debating,
this unurgent knuckle biting questioning

who is the K-nulcker
and
who is the K-nulckee

~~~

for US citizens only:

We approve this message^
you know the days
the ones where you regret
every stupid thing you’ve ever done

look back over your shoulder
wistful at wisps wilted and slipped
through numbly fumbling fingers

while you were busy tightening
your heavy cloak of unlovability
the love you longed got stuck inside
the mirror of nonsensical symmetry

we are like children
inexperienced and naive
never taught how to handle
snow globes brimming with God

disagreeing over methodologies
to get it across the finish line
self-righteously wronging
from craves crumbled
to do it right

because it’s Us in there
enshrined in white orbitals
frosted characters waiting
for whirls to still
so they can be seen
on collapsed knees

opening
to the same page
at the same line

unshattered

today
is one of those
Subrat Rath Jul 2018
Calm and cool came the Lord along with the rising sun.
Invigorated and refreshed fought along with me life's battles.
Feeling His touch forgot all my wounds and hurts.
Mind never felt tired and dejected as Lord was the commander.
Saw Him in the stars and moon and moved in the infinite sky.
Hopes and dreams were perfectly planned by the Lord.
Well developed plans,ideas and methodologies were given by Him for the next day's battles.
Breathed along with the universe and took rest inside the night's slumber waiting for a new dawn.
Lord comes everyday along with the sun and helps me in all my life's battles. Feeling His touch I forget all my wounds and hurts and mind never becomes tired and dejected and fulfilling my dreams and hopes move in the infinite sky along with the Lord and wait for a new dawn.
Western civilization commercialization,
commodification, communication
methodologies adrip with deification,
edification, glorification institutionalizing

libidinal market, the vast majority
modalities relay transmission via
subliminal messages. The not so
innocuous tentacles housing sour advertise
mints objectives conservative

principled paradigm blatantly bind ******* clad,
seductively alluring fashionable
supermodels, albeit highly paid visually
captivating physiques of men and/
or women attaining just barely,

their prime time asper anatomical
fancyfeast. Tis upon that ascending
pedestal, (a mere hop, skip, and
jump along the red carpet royal
treatment), where storied career
launched. Inevitable that risk  

risque monkey business tactics (i.e. questionable
ethical, moral, and parochial
precepts skirted). Nonetheless
marketable cache cows frequently,
indubitably, naturally sally forth into
klieg lights of fame and fortune.

A significant entry vis a vis segue-
way into celebrity stardom invariably
included acquiescence treatment
as sale-able merchandise. A
representative penultimately

pitches packaged person (possibly
pampered pink, perhaps poignant
playbook perused 'pon Peter Piper
picking, pecking pickled peppers)
peddled as analogous to a widget.

The primary difference contrasting
parading an aesthetically pleasing
individual versus a purveyor peddling
an inanimate object includes heavy
emphasis toward repurposing
a person larded amidst salutary,

savory sensuousness, soothingly
sublime sultriness steeped, groomed
and bathed with visually arousing,
beguiling, captivating desirable effects.

Professional (astute, cute, hirsute)
role model people, (whose genetics
and environment allowed them to
husband maximally fated beauty)
must feel very comfortable

in their own skin to display (just shy of
promiscuity) unclothed ******
verboten part. No doubt pheromone
or testosterone pulsates thru
the body electric of viewer. Coy,

flirtatious indirect luring operates
randy unfettered yearning bestirs
desire for immediate *******!
Even this two score plus nineteen

year old, (whose libido went
dormant as a side affect of
pharmaceutical prescription
medication to minimize un
predictable paralyzing panic

attacks predilection) attests at
increased precocity patronizing
my (FAKE) phallus. Many instances
incorporating some athletic,

demure, innocent looking
photogenic subject just waiting
to be the cover of a glossy
glimmering glamorous
magazine (especially an
underage male or female),

the head honcho may be
censored, disallowed, escorted)
away from any picture that hints
of inappropriate physical inter
action. Subtle techniques

and/or poses broadcasting
a delectable, honorable
laudable photograph may
unconsciously connote
spine tingling sensations
approximating statutory ****.

Such prurient intimations defy
being regulated, nor ought
flattering images snapped
by avidly conscientious,
exceptionally gifted, ineffably
kindred shutterbugs banned.

Impulsiveness (particularly,
when the welfare of a minor
OR animal happens to be
at stake) must be addressed
appropriately. If abusive

actions arise perpetrated
against a minor (simply
for anatomical excitation
sans the gender nonspecific
characteristic), the essence

of beauty best be acknowledged
synonymous with any other
physiological endowment.
Depredations highjacking

lost precious quintessential
tenderness wreaks havoc
for the remaining life of
hypothetical individual cascading
like a house of cards, the mental,
physical and spiritual states of being.
Subrat Rath Oct 2020
Moon has come to my room.
Through the window it has entered and soothing my hopes and dreams.
Seeing the moon the stars are also shining on the roof.
The blue sky is mesmerising my mind.
The universe is both inside and outside of me.
Mind is in love and loving everything and being.

As I look to the roof the moon smiles.
It wants me to be successful in every area of life.
Stars twinkle and give me courage and confidence to fight the battle of life.
I see on my path full of beautiful trees.
As I move in the battle field the cool breeze enchants me.

I look to the stars and moon.
The moon extends its hands and massages my brain, body and mind.
I go to the divine by the cool touch of the moon.
The divinity within me is revealed.
Beautiful and vibrant thoughts decorate my mind.

Being fortified by beautiful plans, ideas and methodologies I find the battle very easy.
Love enters through my eyes and soaks the entire body.
I see a beautiful kingdom with a serene and tranquil mind.
The diamonds sparkles and make me illumined.
I see the beauty of everything and being being always pleasant and smiling.

As I start the day the sun welcomes me.
The trees become very happy and take me on the path of peace, progress and prosperity.
I learn patience and endurance from the trees.
In spite of all odds I fulfill my hopes and dreams.
As the night comes I see the stars and moon in my room and by their sweet songs rest in peace and bliss.
The soothing poem 'The Moon' enchants me and soothes all my thoughts and help me to fulfill all my hopes and dreams.
Despite twittering, uber
sputtering kickstarting
onset of cool weather
argh, another brief daily spate
re: forecasting blistering,
nauseating, sweltering...
ninety degree plus Fahrenheit

temperature forecast
(along eastern seaboard)
courtesy mister summer,
who will overstay his welcome
hoop fully a more seasonable
cooling trend rounds out ninth month
(according to Gregorian calendar)

I eagerly look forward
to crisp refreshing air
much more comfortable
to weather being outdoors
within/out this sequestered enclave
postage stamp size geographical area
offers respite versus metropolitan

denser population centers,
the former disappearing open space
rather disheartening, but urbanization -
purportedly the definition of progress
finds once open farmland
less than fifty years back
crumbling barns now tombstones

testimony when people
farmed the land, and lived
linkedin with rhythms of nature,
which only found courtesy said vestiges
inevitably razed (similar to boyhood home
324 Level Road) finds yours truly
brooding fast paced instant

credit karma gratification
twenty first century, which
small, medium forces at large
outfox the time tested imprimatur
i.e. latent powers planet Earth
unleashes (thank you global warming)
decrees final curtain call

**** sapiens runs rampant
wreaking havoc all points of compass
already inundated with scorching,
melting ice caps, flooding...
future generations, yet unborn
might avoid predicated on
dramatic alternatives fossil fuels

already showered Gaia
with carbon dioxide
as well other noxious poisons
though vibrant advocacy
evident among students
vocally demonstrating against
irrevocable damage, whereby environment

and countries situated
near sea level take heavy hit,
nonetheless... cautious optimism flickers
inducing mandatory one hundred eighty degree
reorientation regarding eco friendly

methodologies to lo mein, maintain,
sustain... technological civilization,
else quaint existence of thee
will be read about
in digitized history books.
John McCafferty May 2020
Why do we remember things
Found from the finer places
that regulate moments in time
An inkling where we dream again
another day a month of years before

Some seek space as stillness binds

Through therapeutic methodologies
To think this is with love from art
in the beauty of our hearts
What qualities can a memory bring
A way to rise above that flow of life
(@PoeticTetra - Instagram/twitter)
biche Feb 2021
Men
Clean energy
Politics
Feral nocturnal predators
Personal responsibility
Men - *** - ***!
Justice
State-sponsored ******
Polar vortex
Global warming
Oppression and marginalization
Private prisons
Men - *** - *** - pain - passion!
Parenting
Chores and work (that one’s big)
Questions clients ask
Masks, masks, masks
Permaculture
The fragile grid
The time-space continuum
Relativity
Men - *** - *** - pain - passion - love - ***! ***! *******
Self-esteem
Self-help
Methodologies
Philosophies
“Health is wealth”
Cultural appropriation
Birth and death of a nation
Slavery is still in effect
The contemporary panopticon
Poetry
Men - *** - ***- pain - passion - love - LOSS!
Intimacy
Friendship
Trust
Care
Men! Men! Men!
*** and pain!
Passion and love!
Profit and gain
Loss!
Understanding
*******
Sedation
Psychosis
Desire
Me­n! ***! Passion! Love! Pain! Loss! ******* on a schedule!
Questions and Answers
*Look within
Hyperbole escorted ushered down aisle,
no critic within google x bajillion mile
(give or take a million) approximates
limitless potential regarding self said
epithet vile expletive spewing wicked

vituperation, vilification, vexation,
vandalization, undervaluation, uglification,
transmogrification, terrorization, suffocation,
stultification, strangulation, recrimination...
custom made swiftly tailored harried style

unbounded poetic license curtly vile
distilling, kickstarting, whipping...
hewed, patented, trademarked... versatile
methodologies, modalities to compile
masochistic punishment exhibiting agile

proactive innovations linkedin to avast
amalgamation, where synonyms connote
inflicting physical/ verbal self harm while
alone within emotional wilderness I'll
venture to add non active means to torture

including versus being passively servile,
and case in point with yours truly exile
isolate, entombed, locked, sequestered...
in bedroom of boyhood cherished domicile,
no matter whether violent or tame recourse

good n plenti abominations populate fertile
two clenched fist sized gray matter awash
where rage against our thwarted ambitions
dreams, goals, joys, motives, most pregnant trial
birthing most brutish, horrific, nasty... nemesis.

Please excuse this wurst wordy wayward bard
cuz here cometh the tricked out guard
(oh my...dog he attired just like me)
as everyone else within this isolationist ward.
It is always me among the sidewalks & trees, eating carrots & peas,
surfing angry seas, picking dogs off fleas, cutting blank house keys,
striking mercy pleas & wringing the necks of Thanksgiving turkeys
This true-to-scale tattooed face of Hillary Clinton isn't on my fat ***
for fun, as I had to endure the pain of gay Bill Clinton to get it done
Kristina Magnesium, it's my wasted effort, this running-in-place for
rhythm methodologies while graphing Earth moon's menstrual pace
Explore your innermost womanhood like 12 gynecologists see your
sister's mother, knocked up in the cellar by you or your step-brother
Let's not **** in anger nor act out our nagging suspicions my pet &
let's eat smart brain food so that we'll never forget that we ever met
Let's never **** in anger nor question nagging suspicions my pet &
let's dine with rhinos so that we'll unlikely forget when we first met
Let us not **** in anger nor dredge up a million nagging suspicions
my feline pet & we'll forget kitty-lovin' things that I'll always regret

— The End —