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Manas Feb 2015
You'd be pretty lucky,
if you caught my eyes
staring back into yours.
I'd like to tell you a good reason,
weave a tale of heartwarming lies,
Alas, there's no story behind my evasive eyes.

I nod when I mean to scream 'yes'
To every whim you have.
I smile when I mean to laugh.
I compliment you with the most beautiful of words,
In my silence, I hope you hear me say.
I was born a misdirecting sign-post,
hoping to lead you the right way.


If you'd know me, I'd like to believe,
You'd fall in love with me.
Indefinitely. Instantly.
But in this infinitesimally small moment
that we share,
In an obnoxiously loud world that we stay,
That little space between us is all it takes
For all that is unsaid to lose its way.

If you'd know me, I'd like to believe,
You'd fall in love with me.
Instantly. Indefinitely.
If you'd give me a while,
You could hear, you could see.
You'd know how hopelessly in love I am,
as inarticulate as my thoughts may be.
But with the years it has learned,
This stupid, hopeless heart of mine.
That it simply does not have the luxury of time.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2016
is there noon on this comparison, and where does the stabilising hour care to fathom the giant and dwarf shadows of original shapes? if there is no magnetism of the clock's hour, minute, second, then the only magnetism apparent in the encircling of digestion / decimalisation, is to say the north of a compass, the compass' north equivalence of a clock's misdirecting eternity: of space for a clock asserting a mingling reason: the compass found it's existential reason in the north, yet the clock found it's "north" without care for magnetism, it equated the north with space, and yet what was encapsulated with rotary qualities? for clock the perpetuation of tick tock in space / for the clock treated space as a one-dimensional abstract, with its three-temporal awareness, and yet the compass said north thrice, and on the fourth said Antarctica was loosened to be explored.*

i'm so tired - lifeless poetry,
make words encoded; i'm so tired,
so tiresome of other people
with bellies filled
and eyes in medium postponing,
to compass the needle
a gravity of servitude for the
clock of 12 (north), 6 (south),
and the disputed 9 (east) with
3 the (west),
darting eyes in Bahamas
for direction coarse yet coerced
by a promise, thus the compass riddling a madness
of constant stimulation with magnetism and
the magnet cursor of orbit -
wound three dimensions of time,
space optional, space always optional,
as ever time over-arching to be understood...
where then the compass, where then the clock,
if the compass led by vector of magnetism
to an uncertain place,
if the clock led by vector of missing magnetism
to a certain place of eased: tick, tock, tick, tock...
will that be equally given a wavering of
east, west, east west.... north, south...
what now?!
JM Nov 2012
I realized the other night,

as I stood
screaming
at my son,

that I was breaking
our hearts.

I walked away
as soon as  I saw
the line
in the distance.

The line that
I will never cross.

I walked away
and felt my fathers fist
across my face.

I spared my
precious boy
the terror of
being beaten
by the man
he wants to grow
up and be just like.

I walked away
when I saw
the tears well up
in his innocent eyes
and the confusion
contorting his face,
when I heard some
frustrated father
misdirecting his own
anger and confusion
towards an undeserving
child and realized the
******* father was me.

I heard my father screaming at his woman about having a kid who would do "whatever the **** I tell him to if you hit him hard enough" and realizing that kid was me. I remember a part of me withered when I heard this.

He was right.
My father conditioned me
to take a beating.
He taught me how to
shut the **** up
and do what the **** I am told.
He taught me not to question his orders,
even when I knew they were wrong.
He taught me obedience
by beating me.
He taught me submission
by leaving me no other choice.

He taught me how to be broken.

I learned my lessons well.
I let people push me around because that was my place.
I let people get over on me because I didn't want to confront them.
I lost my girls to other guys because I was weak and scared.
I got passed up for promotions because I was hesitant and indecisive.

How do you forgive someone for conditioning you to be a failure?

How do I reconcile loving my father for the frail human that he is and hating him for the vile and abusive monster that he was?

When I saw the look on my sons face I wondered briefly if that was how I used to look when my father was berating me.

Right before fist hit face.

How the **** could he hit me with that look of fear and confusion and conflicting feelings on my face that must have registered somewhere in his drunken mind.

I can't help but think
it must have been devastating
for him,
somehow, someway.

He stopped apologizing for the beatings and
I stopped thinking
I didn't deserve them.

All of these thoughts and feelings passed
through my brain in a split second
and I turned away from my son.

My precious son.

My reason for existing.

My everything.

I turned away from his tear
stained face and sat down to cry
for a while myself.

I knew that I had caused some damage.
I thought back to all those times I sat crying in my room as a kid and wondered what would have made me feel better at the time, besides the obvious of not just having my *** kicked by a grown man.

42 years
of  gnawing pain
and frustration
and fear
and silence
and tears
and rage
and crushing loneliness
and shame

and fear and fear and fear

walked up the steps to
where a ******* 12 year old boy
sat alone.

42 years
of  breaking
the cycles of abuse and addiction
walked up the stairs and
spent the next hour
healing what I had damaged
in two minutes.


Later that night,
as I lay in bed questioning
every ******* decision I have ever made,
again,
I heard some sort of noise that startled me.

I leaped out of bed and took a quick route through the place to see what the noise was.
I never did find out what caused it but I called up to the boy quietly and asked if he heard it.
It appears he had been awake as well and had been rattling around in his own thoughts.

My boy had been thinking about death.

He was realizing the eventual imminence
of our own mortality and the weight of that thought was
crushing.
I was there for him, though.
I was able to put his mind at ease.
We talked of death, and life, and God, and philosophy
and we had a wonderful conversation
together sitting in his darkened room.

His small hand in mine, we healed each other.
not misunderstanding or deflecting
misdirecting or rejecting the facts
not one to deny when I'm wounded
confounded, just one to drown it in hot wax
created in a crucible and tipped back
****** down like coffee that's jet black
what you gave me to swallow
i forgive but can't forget that
This is an anthem of the silent
did you hear that?
I forgive you what you did but can't forget that.
Comes to pass my picture of the Middle East
(one minute and twenty one seconds of television news,
          much less than I had thought)
is an inaccurate representation of people
and the individuality of their experience.

How does one measure the merit of
I am offended?

If all I know are snapshots, misdirecting
the issue, changing path to digest murdered cartoonists
killed with Allah in mind
          (another misdirection)
and I am not outraged.

Sadness manifests as thick fog
blocking artificial light, splitting the rays,
opening up and flexing, the truth as is,
the sole truth we must attain;
          we are slow, dying creatures.
Inborn freedoms dissolve.

Did Salman Rushdie beg forgiveness for
images of his head book-ending a spear,
or did he die a little in secret?

Suppose I am a rouser marching the streets of
New York City, a gold pendant of two
          falling towers adorning
my chest-cave, Je Suis etched into my forehead
(black felt-tip).

Do you defend me?
Relish in your torment of words?

Will you bury the fire in your belly
for sake of freedom?
Dedicated to Dr. Clifford-Napoleone, for teaching me no reality rises above any other.
Ralph E Peck Dec 2011
Keepers of the time hold the harps, and pluck the strings,
Sending the resonance of the future forward, and back
In the listeners ear, plotting every move, filling
The voids and molding, shaping, creating the destiny.

The sounds first pure, then impure, a learned amateur
Taking the expected mistakes in playing new notes,
Leading, guiding, misdirecting, sounds so close
To perfection, so close to tragedy.

Keepers of the time hold the harps, each listener
Discerning the tones and changes, the falling of a key,
The breaking of a crescendo, winds swept with music;
The calm of the pianissimo, direction to the end.
I'm a frightened little boy who's scared, lost, and confused
Wanting desperately to feel protected from
Nightmares haunting when awake; Unable to stop the abuse
Wish my savior would descend down from above

Mommy please why won't you save me; Anything you want I'll do
Fiercely needing, almost bleeding, to be loved
Didn't mean to misbehave and promise I'll be better too
Daddy please don't scream, get mad and start to shove

"Good times" merely cover up; Create a shadow for the truth
******* stories lull the mind, becoming numb
Ticking time bomb, no surprise when like a powder keg you blew
Striking blows just like a boxer with no gloves

Planted problems rising up are stemming from and grow into
Epic beanstalks much like Jack thought he wished of
Same result from fabled tale except there is no golden goose
Just the giant who refuses to give up

Trembling fear I have inside can't overcome; I lack the tools
Chains me down; These shackles I'm forever cuffed
In a war against myself where it is destined that I loose
Broke and battered, insides shattered into dust

Banished from the realm of life to Fortress of my Solitude
Daily robot the appearances keep up
A magician misdirecting and forever hide from you
All the pain and shame within me that I clutch

Needed partner, what I'm lacking; Information is not news
Someone that I could be close to is enough
Life is empty, without feeling; Like a poet with no muse
Left here rotting; Man of Steel has turned to rust
Written: February 12, 2018

All rights reserved.
Nicole Potter Oct 2013
Flow freely into the minds that hate
        Some things go wrong
How long must we wait?
        Until we all get along

Flow freely into the minds that hate
        Cannot make change without comprehension.
All this misfortune we still create,
        Causing harm, taking lives and misdirecting tension.

Flow freely into the minds that hate
         These false institutions keep the system 'balanced'
Using us all as free pawns and bait,
         Somehow ensuring each breath is silenced.

Flow freely into the minds that hate
        Take a step forward and scream for losses
Too many to count, all preventable, just the selfish human gait.
        Look around, open eyes wide shut, who are the real bosses?

Flow freely into the minds that hate.
        All this time spent reading, analyzing, just wasted away
Just a creative excuse, all it's done is placate
        Talk about humanity, pleading for 'other', yet in the system they fade today.

Flow freely into the minds that hate
        We're not playing with plastic, metal, or things intangible
Each person has life, agency and a Heart Beat to relate.
       Must halt before time runs out, before humanity becomes a true cannibal.

Flow freely into the minds that hate
        Cannot understand without delving within
Must step up, do anything to motivate
       Do not step back, embrace what is foreign

Flow freely into the minds that hate
        Must acknowledge; accept it has existence.
Ignorance is not Fate.
      Just hold on, one more push, all that is needed is constant persistence.

Flow freely into the minds that hate
        Flow freely into the minds that hate
                Flow freely into the minds that hate.

**Oct 2, 2013
I always said you’d break up with me,
(not seeing the power words have over us.)
Within seven months, before May grew pregnant,
you were gone.
You did not leave me as I feared, but you did not bypass my words,
which took over my tears and the gulps and swallows;
regenerating fresh saliva, to form more words, soon lost by the invisible hands on my cell phone,
misdirecting time so that the time spent with you went from now to then.

I spoke what I felt, what I thought to be utterly true
Because how could you love someone crumbling on the outside
and oozing with hot tar pain on the inside?
How could you love me?

You didn’t, you never said it, but I grew incapable of avoiding that metaphorical heart concept:

My heart dictated my hands that formed meals and massages and meltdowns.
You weathered my compulsions and the storms that overtook my countenance and threw you so far from my shore that even swimming to reach me took your patience and your prowess.

But you found a way. You always did. Every week, for months,
from a time when we melded egg white, egg yolk, to a time when oil and water tried in vain to caress.
I was your girl, and you answered my every problem with a solution,
And your eyes sought the truth in mine and we formed our own.
Us two, forever never and then.
Nolan Higgins Apr 2016
there is a whole bunch of steps,
maybe more than you can handle,
but you can't stop climbing
because That's The Way It Is.

the first floor is labeled BIRTH.
it's covered with sweet smelling blood,
you roll in the blood until you've ****** enough nourishment from your mother, then you begin to stumble.

the second floor is labeled TIKE
and this floor is fun.
the walls are covered in bicycles and scabs, grass stains and ketchup, and you don't tire of climbing the stairs this floor holds.

the third floor is called MIDDLE SCHOOL and you experience anxiety for the first time. climbing the stairs begins to feel like a chore but at the end of each flight you are rewarded with letter grades and a feel or two up a skirt.

the fourth floor is called HIGH SCHOOL and it smells like beer and vaginal excrement and you spend half your time crying and the other half doing homework and yet you somehow manage to remain Hopeful.

the fifth staircase us called GAP YEAR and it's reminiscent of the second flight of stairs except now you have Privelage to go along with your Responsibility. These stairs smell like your favorite lake and magic mushrooms and Monty Python. They feel fulfilling yet wasteful, encompassing yet misdirecting.

attentive reader, I just signed up for college 600 miles away from home, I know the next staircase is called College and it smells like beer, but I know nothing else. Wish me luck, please, I think I'll need it.
While grating gusts and gales of Winter’s winds
Mourn with a deaf’ning dirge till Spring begins,
Intently and contentiously they’ll look
For that moral compass found in the book
of such lovingly constructed wording
Of whose heart’s thoughts in our minds are painting
Their reflection to grow within our hearts;
Like wisdom to child, their parent imparts.
He transcends any cultural chasm
To reach all hearts before his phantasm.
Clarity of faith by which we can walk
Decanting the love but keeping the cork
As a stopper to stop the willing draining
To those wilfully closed eyes rejecting.

The burring and whirring takes us to task
In battle, futile for the facile mask;
The mask to mask the vacuous content
With razzle-dazzle detracting repent.
Low weaponry the opposition draws
On his ***, so preys on our many flaws.
The things at which he cannot be the best,
Hopeless to attempt, so drags down the rest.
The strength from these words is for us to draw
To fortify the truth and shroud our flaw
From the eyes and lies of the wicked one;
Weakening us ‘till easily undone.

Never must we, so never shall we yield
Lest we gamble that love that we all wield.
The love that is him, not given by whim,
Can and will be found in amongst this din
Of the towns and cities keeping alive
The corrupt, capital world of the lies.
Dangling the bogus carrot of pleasure;
Misdirecting us all from the treasure
Of something more real spiritually
than anything that’s found posthumously.

For when time grows old, all corners explored,
All things have been sold and all has been bought.
When all has been said and all has been done
With nothing unpainted, ev’rything sung,
All’s been invented, no lines left to write,
No mountain to climb, no evil to fight,
No path left untried, no words left to talk,
No niche unoccupied, no roads to walk.
To surpass anything, where is the hope?
Upon past achievements we will still dote.

All religions, legions and ligaments
Feel full force of their own eradicant.
Once blinded by their own faithful binding
They’ll begin to prove its own unwinding.
Then reluctant eyes open up to see
Their stubbornness was based on fallacy.
By this time now all chances will be spent.
Choices made by those who will now regret
Not seeing what’s evident for all sight
But those whose hearts and eyes they kept shut tight.
Regret will abound for the truth not found.
Eternity in Hades and the ground
Is the only future for the many
Who chase that carrot dangling for jenny.

Ambiguity of a single word
Begs contextual study of the broad.
Only then can a justification
Substantiate their stubborn rejection.
What will fill the void where once there was truth?
Ostensibly only eternal ruth,
Curtailed by the one whose ultimatum
Can be found in that book of verbatim.
The book written to escape the scapegrace
Our only grace and our only solace.

Those grating gusts part, exposing a path
A path enough wide for many a rath,
But the wind which once blew for all idols
Has changed its direction toward idylls.
Softly but certainly the air makes change.
With grating now gone, systems rearrange.
Where one and one equal much more than two,
Longer is forever if it’s just you.
Love is the only, the all, and ever,
The one currency we’ll grow together.

Amen.
Big Virge Sep 2021
Now People... To My Mind... !!!

... It’s About That Time...
For The Masses To RISE... !!!

But I DON’T Mean...
By Using Protest Lines... !!!

If That’s Your Scene...
Well Okay That’s Fine... !!!

But I’m Thinking More Like...
By... DEFYING The Vibe...

That Money Makes Your Life...
A Thing That Sheds Light...
On Doing What’s Wise...
And Living Life Right... !?!

Because I’m Really Not Sure...
That This TRULY Supplies...
A Way To Really Live PURE...
And With RIGHTEOUS Vibes... !!!

When What You ADORE...
Is NOT Being POOR...
In Financial Terms...
Within This Modern World...

Cos’ Corona’s Quickly Turned...
And Has Shown The Herds...

That Those Who CONTROL...
Will Really Get Quite BOLD...
And Will TELL You Where To Go...
And When And How To Do So... !!!

So I Think That It’s Time...
For Heads To RECOGNISE...

That Life Is PRECIOUS... !!!

Which We...
Should NOT Be Forgetting... !!!

Infections Have Brought Lessons...
That Certain Things Are Spreading...
That Don’t Give Us Protection...

Like Conscious Thought Collecting...

There’s MUCH That Needs Inspection...
In Government Collectives...
And Those We Call Detectives...

Because Police NEED VETTING...
BEFORE They’re Out UPSETTING...

Instead of Out PROTECTING...
ALL People From The EVIL...
That’s Sadly Now INFECTING...

Our Youth And Misdirecting...
Like Ships WITHOUT A Heading... !!!

Or Captains Who Are Guides...
Who Help People Live RIGHT... !!!
With WISDOM BY THEIR SIDE...

INSTEAD of TAKING LIFE...
And Causing PAIN And STRIFE... !!!

... It Really Is That Time... !!!

To CUT OUT These Divides...
That Are Based On Colour Lines...

If Colour Is The Thing...
That Makes You Think You’re A KING...
You May Need To... RETHINK...
The Way You Choose To Think...

... Are You A SUPREMACIST... ?!?

Whose Chain REFUSES Links...
Because of Someone’s SKIN... ???

Of Course Racism STINKS... !!!

So Those Who STILL PERSIST...
On Killing Based On THIS...
Should Basically... NOT LIVE... !!!

But DON’T You Be TOO QUICK...
To Let Your Anger Flip...
Your Mind To Think Like Crips...
Or Bloods Who Give Hatred A HUG... !?!

Now Those Words Are NO DISS...
They’re Meant To Make You THINK... !!!

Before You Choose To Give...
Somebody Their Death Wish...
By Leaving Them EXTINCT... !!!

Is A Gang Life What You Want...
Do You Think That’ll Make You STRONG... ?!?

If So Then What Is WRONG...
And What Will STOP Problems... ?!?

The BIGGEST Gang We Have...
I Thought Was Us... HUMANS... !!!

YES SOME Will NEED...
To Be REMOVED With SPEED...
From Living In Societies... !!!

Like Those Whose GREED...
Leaves People Living In Poverty... !!!

And Those Who Go On Killing Sprees... !!!
Corrupted Breeds Like Thieves And Fiends...
Who Will NOT HEED Our Need To AGREE...
And Breed..... UNITY..... !!!

The Type of Peeps...
Who CURRENTLY Lead... !!!

From Presidencies...
To Big Business Chiefs...

They Need To Be Held...
... ACCOUNTABLE...

Before They Make Economies STALL...
And Make The Masses Walk...
Towards Their... Downfall... !!!

It’s About That Time... !!!
To... Make The CALL...
For The Type of War...
That Breeds Something MORE...

Than Causing Blood To Pour... !!!

I Really Don’t Know If...
We All Can Live If We Don’t Think...
... BEYOND Money...
And The Colour of Skin... !!!

... Hate Is UGLY... !!!

As Are The SINS...
That Fuel Racists...
And Ignorant Minds...

Which Is Why These Rhymes...
Are Those That Imply...

That We NEED To Find...
Ways To Be HUMANE...

And To Find BETTER Ways...
Than We’re Living Nowadays... !!!

Which Means Taking AiM...
At Those Who LIE...
And Choose To DENY...
FREEDOM And Vibes...
That Help Us ALL UNITE... !!!

Because I Really Think...
That It’s Time To Fight...
Against CORPORATE Guys...
And CORRUPTED Designs...
From Government Types...

So Please Heed These Rhymes
Because Modern Day Life...
Keeps Giving Us Signs...

That...

..... “ It’s About That Time “.....
I think that it really is folks....
While grating gusts and gales of Winter’s winds
Mourn with a deaf’ning dirge till Spring begins,
Intently and vindictively they’ll look
F’that moral compass found within the book
of such lovingly constructed wording
Of whose heart’s thoughts in our minds is painting
His reflection to grow within our hearts;
Like wisdom to child, their parent imparts.
He transcends any cultural chasm
To reach all hearts before his phantasm.
Clarity of faith by which we can walk
Decanting the love but keeping the cork
As a stopper to stop the willing draining
To those wilfully closed eyes rejecting.

The burring and whirring takes us to task
In battle, futile for the facile mask;
The mask to mask the vacuous content
With razzle-dazzle detracting repent.
Low weaponry the opposition draws
On his ***, so preys on our many flaws.
The things at which he cannot be the best,
Hopeless to attempt, so drags down the rest.
The strength from these words is for us to draw
To fortify the truth and shroud our flaw
From the eyes and lies of the wicked one;
Weakening us ‘till easily undone.

Never must we, so never shall we yield
Lest we gamble that love that we all wield.
The love that is him, not given by whim,
Can and will be found in amongst this din
Of the towns and cities keeping alive
The corrupt, capital world of the lies.
Dangling the bogus carrot of pleasure;
Misdirecting us all from the treasure
Of something more real spiritually
Than anything that’s found posthumously.

For when time grows old, all corners explored,
All things have been sold and all has been bought.
When all has been said and all has been done
With nothing unpainted, ev’rything sung,
All’s been invented, no lines left to write,
No mountain to climb, no evil to fight,
No path left untried, no words left to talk,
No niche unoccupied, no roads to walk.
To surpass anything, where is the hope?
Upon past achievements we will still dote.

All religions, legions and ligaments
Feel full force of their own eradicant.
Once blinded by their own faithful binding
They’ll begin to prove its own unwinding.
Then reluctant eyes open up to see
Their stubbornness was based on fallacy.
By this time now all chances will be spent.
Choices made by those who will now regret
Not seeing what’s evident for all sight
But those whose hearts and eyes they kept shut tight.
Regret will abound for the truth not found.
Eternity in Hades and the ground
Is the only future for the many
Who chase that carrot dangling for jenny.

Ambiguity of a single word
Begs contextual study of the broad.
Only then can a justification
Substantiate their stubborn rejection.
What will fill the void where once there was truth?
Ostensibly only eternal ruth,
Curtailed by the one whose ultimatum
Can be found in that book of verbatim.
The book written to escape the scapegrace
Our only grace and our only solace.

Those grating gusts part, exposing a path
A path enough wide for many a rath,
But the wind which once blew for all idols
Has changed its direction toward idylls.
Softly but certainly the air makes change.
With grating now gone, systems rearrange.
Where one and one equal much more than two,
Longer is forever if it’s just you.
Love is the only, the all, and ever,
The one currency we’ll grow together.

Amen.
ZenOfferings Feb 2019
Tie my shoes up tight
Taking my time
I'm in for a long night

Warm up on sidelines
Scoping it out
A fresh ball in my hip pocket
I be feeling stout

Drill it to **** it bout 3000 times
Never stepping outside the black painted lines
Of the lane
I was inside
Perfecting the stroke
The release
Is
Everything

But I'm in the waiting room
The lobby that is Court Two
Court 1 is where the men boom
And bang bodies and shoot
Lights
Out
Daggers

And if a man is there for long enough
And the ten go down a few
A few of the crew
Over on Court Two
Get called on to fill and finish the game up

My wind isn't great
My footwork is dodgy
My stroke is quite streaky
Go to the bank?
I'm wishy-washy

Can't box out for ****
My handles are average
But my defense is good
So I have some leverage

And on this particular evening
My shot felt real good
And I got a nod over
And played how I should

A pester on defense
I was covering two
To free up a big man in post
In the zoo

A transition pit stop on fast break
I pushed the ball up the court
The seven footer hits me in the corner
Shooting 100% from the floor

Then the men started to heat up
'250 bulldozer' in the lane
'Lights out on the arc'er outsider

I didn't touch the ball much
I'd basically given up
They played there often with chemistry
And I, just a pup

Got one pass at the end
That I wasn't expecting
I fumbled the friend
The rock had been misdirecting

But
All
Things
Said:
3/3 ~ 7 pts ~ 3 rbd ~ 1 blk ~ 2 stl ~ 2 ast ~ 2 to

And we take those
Pick up basketball at University
CharlesC Dec 2020
Between Oases
Are the dry patches of
Misdirecting and wanting
To find a trail to the comfort
Of the next Oasis..
The secret
Yet to be discovered by many
The weary traveler:
Pause on your trail and
Be introduced to the You
Who has never departed
The Oasis...!
Keith Frantz Dec 2019
Pointing and Tweeting 
and Lying out loud 
Misinforming, Misdirecting 
and Masquerading as proud
A Fool’s Grand Folly 
proves to allow
Our once Great Nation sanctions
The Shame of Now

No longer the beaming beacon 
of Freedom and Light
Lost drowning under agendas 
of a fascist Right
Our promise of Equality,Opportunity, and Justice for ALL
Has dimmed deep dark
Led by dishonorable leaders 
with minds too small

Lie upon lie 
to seize and deny
Each worthy Virtue
As lethargy stands by
To ignore is to condone 
this integral deceit
Lighting matches in the wind
at a scheming Witch’s feet

Political shame 
is nothing new
Its open promotion 
defines Red versus Blue
But our current taste 
for Snake Oil Greed
Summoned upon us 
with foul racist creed
This Demon’s charm
Hastens reckless danger 
Has brought us harm
Unstable chaotic anger

Voter apathy 
has thus condemned
Heads and feet 
buried too deep in sand
Qualifying lies
EACH AND EVERY DAY
This cancer has spread
“But the economy…” they say!

At what cost 
is you dignity lost?
When the lines of life and decency are crossed...

Bragging and gagging
The few who spew through
False rallies and chants
Show us how 
the ignorant rants
Further convey
The Shame of Now

Manipulation of masses 
televised showing their *****
Compassion gone, 
Our Character drawn
Hate and Greed 
Their ugly seed
Dividing is no great mystery
Exacting this moment in history

Love and Compassion 
No longer in fashion,
Diplomacy and Compromise
Cuffed behind 
self-righteous disguise
Gilded ideology 
and forgotten vow
Convey the disgraceful 
Shame of Now

Gone now too,
Our Golden Rule
The Bully stalks on
A sullied Fool
Human rights aside
Jackboots must abide
We've lost our soul
To the latest poll

Non apologetic rhetoric 
Inviting a World thickly sick
Embattled, embittered,
Disastrously entwittered
But crisis mode 
Has always shown
To tow the load
We MUST always reap
What we have sown 

Soon critical mass
Will expose this ***
For all he's said and done
His base too
Shall also rue 
Days of ugliness won
A National Reckoning 
Is overdue
The Conscientious beckoning
For all things true

Until this time
Heed my rhyme!
Of Machiavellian theft
Cunning deceit and lying
With Hope for a future bereft
Of stolen children forever crying
Until Election Night
We FIGHT THE GOOD FIGHT

Yet We remain bewildered how
We must face 
The Shame of Now
here writes: 𐰋‎ᛟ𐰉‎

          in Runic (at the middle)
and Orkhon either side

    just as my suspicions
concerning Gothic, script:
are not advantageous
for any foreseeable reason

other than:

   𐰢‎𐰀‎𐰦‎      (mant, like mann)

        to imply: man wrote this
ergo: by man: mant...

        i distrust the remains of Gothic
because of interaction
(perhaps) with the Romans
and the Greeks

   and i see some "unnecessary"
incisions
to make distinctions...

to say that Jacob Grimm envisioned
a gothic text as precursor
to the Greek text:

oh what's the use!
these words are only a passing by
not a conversation to be
had not words
to be engraved onto stone
the time of paper and stone
is passed
and there are foundations
to ensure everyone is comfortable
with an atom bomb's worth
of technology in their pocket
to somehow: not abuse it?

3 years divided up between
6 weeks on Kauai
with her 3 weeks in London
i was supposed to be somewhere
today:
Wembley... for the Capital FM
summertime festivity
oh god seeing this number of people
congregate
for music events all euphoric
but for sporting events so too euphoric
but measured
like there's a reason

woke up at 4am with a burden of cramps
in the abdomen...
i could blame a bad batch of sandwiches
as sold by certain supermarkerts
that might have spiced them with E. Coli
but then again i was dumb enough
to ignore my lactose intolerance
and drank some cow *****
in the night
with some Danish all butter biscuits

woke a second time ready for work
at 6am but cramps again:
crawled on all fours into my mother's
and father's bedroom and implored
mother to send a text to my wager:
these 0 hour contracts are a nuisance
how can you plan being sick
or not being sick
ahead of a shift
at least this was my first: blow-out
in 3 years...
i blew-out for the shift i didn't give
enough time for implementing changes
but i'm sure there are enough BODS
to fill an empty space
this industry is not rewarding
mind you not even this industry
so it's less about work itself and work in-itself
and the precursor to work:
that's life
i'm no machine and sometimes
the odd cramp of the abdomen
to give birth to nothing but an existential
dis-pain:
which is a negation of pain
if the physical realism subsides or is
enjoyed
but the mental: no scabs on the ego
no burning of the ego no cutting and bleeding
of the ego
just a disorganized luxury of what
would otherwise be a whoop'tee doo'dah
of narrative: lost...

     only this shrapnel i'm recovering...

then that other job description got to me:
i could be out of events industry
with one smooth application:
2 days per week
8 hour days
working as a security guard and receptionist
at the Royal College of Musicians
or whatever...
works around to £26,000 a year
so i could still do gigs on the side
but the application detail
stressed: EMPLOYING FROM
BLACK, ASIAN and LGBTQ+ LDTV
ULTRA VOX "minority"...
well... positive discrimination:
thankfully i had no former fathers
who were colonial masters, right?
WRONG!

i can tell apart a Nigerian from a Somali
and still understand that that's black on black
but when it comes to white
and -ness
and it's all ha ha from here:
because, weirdly enough:
i'm also the Holocaust maker
or perhaps my reading of history is so
pish poor that hey presto!

it's actually painful to think that
jobs are being currently advertised on
the basis of skin color and sexuality
then again i could pretend to be gay
i could be one of those covert
homosexuals
you don't actually realize are homosexuals
could have a William Burroughs
book in my pocket
but it would seem the stratification
of jobs
the menial ones go to the blacks the asians
and the gays
while plumbing and farming goes
to: inherited whiteness folk...

i knew i would be dragged into
race baiting and ****** politics of people
from elsewhere:
i still feel down about cutting the umbilical
chord with Edie
but in her own words:
we played house...
mother will never allow you to stay here
for holiday...
reality checker...
so why burden myself with having
invested 3 years and two encounters

oh but it became clear and not so
travelling on the train with:
i suppose 3 teachers on a night out
two blondes...
one trying to rub against me
and all the talk was comparative
literature to the Auschwitz trains
and it (the train) being: sardine packaging
and how there was a whiff of Indian
air
and yes i can understand that
over-saturation with the use of spices
but what got me down
was that tongue twister of:
drunk people in public
trying to savor the remnants of euphoria
and how the words:

little people little lives dampened
my mood
at the stadium at Tottenham
working with a Jamaican Muhammad
drunk white women
and this outright
scold: oh the ****** can come
but you're not tool enough...
that's like wow the jungle really has
a prized asset and now i don't wonder
why so much of this human interaction
cannot be genuine euphoria
or can be if it is hidden
and sometimes passed down in script
but for a day of supposedly being elsewhere:
if i was well enough
i would still be working for half an hour
more and getting the night buses home
but assured: i need to visit the hospital
mother to see my alter-ego
of media jargon superstitions
about some... "Norman Bates":
underclass of economics even this Swiss
whizz kid only understood poetry
in terms of WINNING or LOSING...

i think it comes with the population size
there's no need to write truths
and bottle them and gorge and digest
them there's no need to write
beautifully either...
coherently yes, but not so much
when this time round everyone is literate
and simply spoiled for choice
as to what is freely available
and....

         SRBIJA... old Serbia new Serbia
it really doesn't matter:
the southern Slavs were so much
different to the northern portion of the ethnicity
and you tend to forget that
former associations of Germanic
have long been lost
that last attempted to unite the Germanic
people under the *****
lasted 5 years but didn't
and even now the European Union
is not even equivalent to how long:
how did Marx influence the Slavic people
and made them into a Pan- contending force
to then export all: that's made to chi-cha-chu
land ahoy! Sinbad came
to Lu Hi and thought: but no Muhammad
so am i right to not be Muslim?

what was funny came around Whitechapel
this ginger Englishman
praying fervently concerning
enrichment
the policy of social health
allowing people off the train first
but ahead of him two Pakistani UNCLES
decided: that's now the case:
so in they clamored onto the train
making it more difficult for people to
get off: just so they could get their seats
and i think that's kinda of funny
given i'm an immigrant myself
but then again most Poles
didn't feel welcome in England
after joining the European Union
so they ****** off
and became replaced by a more
befitting Asian-Afro cocktail...
who? the Romanians!
oddly enough you'd be sightseeing
hummingbirds wanting to spot Bulgarians
in this London Dry Mix...

but i'm supposed to be in love with
humanity: no?
i just agree and nod and whatever
like: all's good Frankie: let's make a Stein!

i somehow feel for the native around
here but then i don't:
she, Edie... she knew i drank and smoked
marijuana
in the newspaper from yesterday
the German Politzei wanted
the English fans to smoke cannabis
rather than drink alcohol and who knows
maybe that was a marriage made in heaven
when both fans started booing each
other's anthems
clearly the air was tense
as a result Serbia 0, England 1...

you get to see Plato's Cave as a showcase
alternative to cinema and the t.v.
but it's good to watch a t.v. and think
of Plato's cave without really thinking
about the curtains of t.v. and the producers
and the staff that gets the show
going: no... simply you watching
something as grand as a sporting event...

no amount of whiskey or smoking
will alleviate my melancholic mood
my mood of wanting to erase memory
but in the pits
of melody of a singing crowd
and: oh those isolated instances
of humanity seeking benevolence from
fellow man:
i had the sinking heart of misdirecting
people
to dead ends...
not out of spite out of sheer
tiredness...

                and nothing but tiredness has
produced these words...
i will know soon enough if
i grappled with a purpose for this life
to be beyond any reasonable measure
of invested in it an ambition
a sanity
a want of specie societal differentiation
to grit down 70 years down
to a Mercedes Benz:
but somehow scuff at a Heinz can of beans
because: says so the caviar to me...
with an interlude looking
at a documentary concerning the
52 Hz whale...
  the loneliest ****** out there because his
frequency is not being communicated
to the neurotypical whales
and he's not getting honey...
of **** of jiggly **** and blubber...

                     and i'm finally concluding my own
failures...
last night...
walked past a few nightmare houses...
one of them spoke to me:
you will never live in a house
with a bedroom
where the woman has placed
a dressing table with a mirror in front
of the window...
just like i would never be a woman
who'd live in a house
with a man who parks his work
van in the front of the house
blocking all sunlight coming into
the living room...

    but hey! people do! people do!
which makes me in no way
special: i forgot about needing to feel
special or in high command of
individuation as: the western purpose for life's
fulfillment:
now i navigate using the compass:
the less people i hurt the better i will ****...
the less people are in my life
the better i will digest beef...
the more and others are passerby to each
other the more significant this glue of time
will be to dilute our each effort
to ensure we don't: cling to them with
a drowning man's resolve to grasp at
a blade's edge and bleed out
and become a feeding frenzy for:

dogs with gills... no... not sharks...
sharks have shark teeth
we need a blunt tearing off of flesh
via aqua canines
not sharks... verily not sharks.

— The End —