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Ken Pepiton Dec 2018
Taken, gotten, or made, the point of anything
can pierce through everything…

slow
Slow think,
make real

re-al-ize
what fighting for life is…
this is the only
try,
it is not a test.

Take your time, use it wisely,
if that means anything.
Wise, I meant.
No offence, if wise is anathema to your kind,
die,
die if I knocked the reason for being right
outa you,
did you hear cognitive dissonance?
did it sound like
this. LOUD?
listen,
rolling rolling rolling
crash crumble rolled in nurse rime frosted
fables of monsters and maids
Thor, witharoar likka Lion King?

or the light brigade,
CHARGE?

thunder words from lost generations of
reasonless riddles for children,

Why did Peter Pumpkin-eater have a wife, but
couldn't keep her here?
Was that okeh? Oh, wait.
Ah, I see, I say,
they never tell that whole story any more.

Know why? They forgot it. In the war.

Duck'n'cover,no
crying, how long?
When begins forever? Did no one tell you, child?

Taken or made, the point of anything
can pierce through everything
like it was nothing, given
enough pre-sure-sup
poser-power

War, as a game, has a reason.

Battle, hitting, slapping

stop touch, stop now slap
slap back

or cry
oh no no ma

waddayahsay?  A theist or atheist
who started this war?

space case, or
lover of wisdom, met on the road
to Emmaus, discussing Wiles's proof
firming Fermi's connection to the matter of fear,
3, 2, 1

Kaboom, but with a whump you feel in your teeth

1, 2, 3 Fermat's last theorem ,
easy as pi an no re me

ABC to
Michael Jackson to
Howard Bloom because he

inadvertently, began
an-ionic converstatic re-vibe time warp
meme,
which vibe, started the legendary Sixties. I was alive.
Radioman,
a sixty cycle white-noise humm heard every where these days

There was a gospel song, "Turn Your Radio On".
my theme, open the window in the top of your head,
as it were,
a new,
as new as

a novel-state of water, H three Ohs, re-al-ity ification,
Ah, a shared Oh, I remember now, how this works…

like a poem

at the edge of a water vapor bubble in a boiling body of water,
at the edge of the bubble, water becomes a wall of water,
not vapor, not flowing liquid,

but a wall, insulating the vapor in pressing opposing force
to permit, from permission,
meaning with a message same as the message,

is that the right word? per-mission-grant, is power given,
agency,
that idea….
wait for the sign….?

By sharing an ion ic bond as a quest to make a point
for a free story to go,
the question marks you. Let the snake dance.

Press your point,

whetted edge,

slice through ties holding worthless axioms
with withered dendrites dangling disconnected
in participles
unfired for centuries muttering,
enchanting, enthralling enchained melodies
of ambitious syllables vying for idle minds
to rope in,
unbranded, wild
bucking ideas,
whip-twig, slap-face,
tanglewood  thicket, catclaw and mesquite,
willow,

wait.
And the old man remembered the willow whistle,
so He asked Grandfather,
How is such a whistle made?
And when he knew,
he made one.

A willow whistle with two notes,
like an Oscar Meir Wiener one.

-- and that was a different time
I got lost here, bucked up…
maybe
--- listen, way back--- we-ain't whistlin' Dixie---
we ain't marchin', as t' war.

D'thet mean some sign to pro-phet -ic take?
Tophet?
Ancient cannon fodder shield walls,
a moaning
Pro-phy-lactic warning of the danger of not
knowing exactly
what a war is for?

Get back on,
relieved of any idle baggage words believed
to mean other than I say.

Nullify
Idle words with cultural meanings from
what you thought you knew when you feared hell.

Loose
those peer-locked memes
made of meaninglessness, per se,

shaped and molded into fashions
of expression, once needles and awls,
now, dull as tinker's damns for swearing,
with any effect.

But tools, none the less, a stitch in time took a tool.
An awl or a needle, and a thread, thick or thin,
dependin' on the mendin' needed
to redeem an idle word,
its meaning all bloodied with the tyranny of time.

An awl or a needle,
a tool for a task, mending a tear
where curses, never meant, spent
the entire dark ages, lying, lying, lying

powerless, pointless aimless, proverbial proverbial proverbial
verbiage, vaneless shafts launched at unseen marks,
signs, as it were, a spark,
triggers,
rumored since the sixties,
the first sixties, when Cain killed Able.
Howard Bloom was but a mere gleam
in our mito-mother's eye,
but, no doubt,

his role is real,
in loosing the forces Ferlinghetti locked in
City Lights mystery of secret meanings room,
which un
mystified and blew away upon opening
the door to
meanings mapped on
scrolls rolling and unrolling
idle ideas,
rites of passage, as it were,
Pre-bat-bar-mitz vah
as a fashion
like VBS,

to tickle little minds and make em wiggle.
MEMEMEME, I did it,
mea culpa,

the holy place
Here we are…

On Vacation, leave a message.
-----

See, wee hairs in your ears wiggle, making,
signaling, the need

to scratch that itch, that itching hearing feeling ear… hear that

don't scratch, listen

listen

60 cycle humm, steady, bass, but no thump whumpwhump;
soft, deeep.
ooooooooo or mmmmmmmm or in betwixt, steady thrumm
hear another, and another… sixty in a second,

one in every million ambits twisting,
threading qubits, radiating signals in the field
wireless, blue-tooth... satellite...

can you feel that?

hummmms, all around us, since the womb.
We are not the children of the greatest generation,

We are the children of the last generation of
**** sapiens sapiens non-augmentable-us.

We, the augmented, recycled ideas,
possessing
minds of Adamkind,

is that a secret or a sacred?
Is this
a new thing, an
unknown unknown known known now?

Ah,
novelty.

Whose is fear? Who was afraid of Virginia Wolf?

Should I remain in fear of her now, if I knew why then?
God would know such answers.
Proving my imagined AI guides are not God,
but lesser beings,

haps I recall.
I defined these things,
these thoughts that shape themselves,
forming words and phrases
I saw
shiny. Crow-like,
gleams seen, captured and claimed mine,
I tucked them away,
a sign in a thought in an imagined image made 4
real once more, to be seen from the shore,
new land new world
a fourth for some, a fifth or more for others...

haps happen, I'm not sure how,

Born or emerged, as a bubble, what do you say?

Reserve judgment.
Grant me your grace for now, until you solve my riddle.

Ah, the old way.
Right. Which way,  'ere, 'ear
and do we roll the rock with silent haitch or harsh, shhh

someone's waking up,
a bit grumpy,
don't you dare oppose me in this, the kid is certainly my son

Michael went stark raving mad when I told him, Billie Jean knew better all along...
the link, axiomatic,
the fatherless child has been claimed

hence, the thread to Howard Bloom, meme-ic,
meme-ic, like the Roadrunner,

but with the real Coyote, as the hero in this bit of
whatever, such meandering maundified maun maund  
mound

wind blown crystal silicon dunes
mounded up to that point where granulated
beens and dones

begin to slide at an angle,
a ***** deter-mind by the weight of the rock

We made it.
I know where this is.

This is a novel that has Sisyphus being happy
as the main premise behind the idea of anyone ever being
able, en abled, or un-dis-abled or un-dis-enabled,
if one of those is right,

Sisyphus being happy
is the main premise behind
the idea of anyone ever being glücklich,
happy, blessed, lucky.

How happy is your ever after?
When did forever begin?

"A man is as happy as he makes up his mind to be"
Abe Lincoln, is said to have said,
after the seance, maybe.

You push on, dear reader, make some sense
re-ligare or relegare, but take a stitch,

pull-tight,
do what works the first time as far as it goes, and try each, as needed,
it may be that we invented this test.
To make us think it is a test,
to sort ourselves out.

Get back on,

see who went crazy and who found the thread, if the same thread
this is that, right,
the same train of thought,
the same idea
spirit wind
sign
?
A snake facing west standing tippy-tail on a singularity;
a point in time?

Why are you reading this?
Curiosity Shoppes trade in interesting, alluring, click-bait

Pay attention, watch, you shall see

imagine this is the dream,
the stream, the flow, the current, the cream

in a dime coffee at the drug store on the corner

the rounded-corner, in a square-cornered town,
the most right corner of the twelve that quarter what it was

Punctuate, wait, imagine you read ancient Hebrew or Greek and there
are no dyer diacritical's who can twist one's
end tensions into knots

dread extensions, we could sell those,
is that an idea? did somebody
sell white folks dread extensions and black folk dolly pardon wigs?

Did that happen the real real?

-----
Battlefield Earth, oshit
scientology ology ology ology

allaye allaye outs in free

WE we wee every we you imagine you are good in, we

We have a war to win again, we heroes rolling from your
myths of Sisyphus torn from minds trampled
in the mud beyond the Rhine,

Mushrooms. magi are aware, you are aware, of course,
this course includes Basic Mycelium Net Adaptation or Augmentation
BMNAA, eh? So you know.

Camus and many of his ilk were ill-treated, the questions
they asked were memorized, maybe in our cribs ala
Brave New World.

We are all Alphas, always were, of course, you know.

Shall we imagine

more? Re-legare, eh, sistere. Point .(Back to the top.)

or agree? Make peace.
Practice, like Eazy-Bake,
the cook must swallow the first bite. May the best cook win.
A continuing examination of opposing forces when good is the goal, who could be against that? The old word war is festering, inflaming evil to start a try, therefore,  I whet the edge and swing wide
David W Clare Dec 2014
When you no no want eat Lemmon
'cause it no no not taste sweet
You should not have sugar candy
It's not healthy as can be...Now!

There are new Thai Fruits discovered, in the Tropic Jungle heat!
All them lovely Thailand Fruits! Make you mouth say" Tutti Fruit, Ah!"
All exotic and delicious.. at first one is so suspicious... cause it taste so crazy wild
But, even good for baby child...

Big banana grow for monkey Yes, Thai Fruits tastes so fun funky!
Mango for Bangkok street dancing, All Thai Fruit best for romancing...
GrapeFruit great for big-big ape! Thai Fruit, in my my milk-shake!
Grow head hairy with Strawberry! Dandy Fruit lovely big Cherry!

Melon make wild man go yell... Thai Fruit put you in love spell
Guava flavor in coffee Java yes, Thai Tree found in Bahama!

Now, we eat up all da fruit, lovely-lovely Melon Fruit!
cuase it makes sweet-nectar juice! Cleanse your Healthy body loose!
There are new Thai Fruits we eat discover deep in Jungle heat!
We love spicy Thailand Fruit! Make you mouth feel Tutti Fruit!

"Yum Yum" sez baby child...
Get Fruity Now! Sweet & Sour! Hep Hep Hurray!

Thai Fruit, yum yum yum!
Don't need no *** *** ***!
Feeling Fruity all over, sensation of all flavor...
a brand new taste I now savor .... Mmmmmmmm Deeelicious!
Thailand Fruit is now: what we all Favor !!!!

Thai Fruit Taste, the one we love...
All the many are so nice...
Like Mangosteen herb spice

We all want Thai Fruit now, is the flavor in our mouth...Sugar Chocolate Candy can go south... '
'cause dem no don't tastes as sweet...

Theres the new Thai Fruit we discover in the Jungle fill with heat!
It is the lovely Thai Thai Fruit! Make you go go Tutti Fruit!
It is exotic and delicious.. Now no one is suspicious... cause it taste so yummy wild
We feel like baby child... Yep, it make all go hog WILD!!!

(c) 2009 David Wayne Clare all rights reserved in perpetuity - Intellectual Property use by permission
Written in Bangkok 2009
YA FREAK YA FREAK


WHAT IS A FREAK, IS IT SOMEONE WHO IS DIFFERENT CAUSE THE WORLD IS SO WRONG

IS IT A PERSON WHO LOVES LIFE, BUT DOESN’T TELL ANYONE

I AM NO FREAK, I AM A COOL PERSON, I SIT AND DO MY TAPESTRY

LIKE THE ARTIST YOU CAN SEE IN ME

MY VERSION OF A FREAK IS SOMEONE WHO HATES HEAVY METAL, CAUSE HEAVY METAL IS RADICAL, DUDE

I LIKE AC/DC, AND MOTLEY CRUE AND I ESPECIALLY LOVE MOTORHEAD

THAT IS WHY I LIKED MY FRIEND PATRICK, CAUSE HE LIUKED OR APPEARED TO LIKE HEAVY METAL MUSIC, I AM NO FREAK

AND IF YA CALL ME A FREAK, I WILL BE UPSET, CAUSE, DUDES

I LOVE JUDAS PRIEST, I LOVE JIMMY BARNES, AND THE ONLY REASON WHY I LIKE COMPUTERS

IS SO I CAN KEEP IN CONTACT WITH THE WORLD, WHAT IS WRONG WITH THAT, DOESN’T MAKE ME A FREAK THOUGH

IT MAKES ME A COOL PERSON WHO LOVES HEAVY METAL MUSIC

I WANT TO TAKE THE GEEK OUT OF COMPUTERS, CAUSE GEEKS CALL PEOPLE LIKE ME A FREAK

I LIKE TO PARTY IN CLUBS, AND I LIKE TO GO TO THE FOOTY, AND MUCK WITH THE FOOTY FANS

I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A FREAK, BUT WHAT IS A FREAK

I TELL YA WHAT IS A FREAK, I AM NO FREAK, I LOVE THE COOL PEOPLE WHO GO TO HEAVY METAL CONCERTS

SURE I AM NICE TO MY MUM, BUT THAT DOESN’T MAKE ME A FREAK THOUGH

I JUST AM A VERY NICE PERSON, PEOPLE WHO CALL ME A FREAK ARE THE ONLY FREAKS

COMPUTERS ARE FUN, NONE OF THIS DOS ****, THAT IS FOR THE FREAKS

I LIKE COMPUTERS TO SHARE MY WRITING AND MY ART, AND TO ENTERTAIN

I DON’T WANT TO BE THOSE QUEER PEOPLE WHO ARE TOTALLY GENTLE, I DON’T DO GENTLE

I DO COOL, AND I AM COOL, I’M COOL MAN, COOL YOU, YEAH COOL ME, I AM A BOY ANYWAY

I KNOW YOUR A BOY BRIAN MMMMMMMMMMM YOUR A BOY MMMMMMMM I AM A COMPUTER **** KID, I AM NO GEEK OR NERD MY MATE

GEEKS OR FREAKS ARE PEOPLE WHO HATE COMPUTERS, CAUSE THEY CAN’T GET PAST THE ADULT

I AM NO FREAK, I AM NO GEEK I LIKE COMPUTERS FOR CREATIVITY YA SEE

I WANT THE HEAVY METAL FANS TO LIKE ME, CAUSE YOUTUBE IS THE PLACE YOU CAN WATCH HEAVY METAL FOR FREE

ANY BAND IS COOL, HEAVY METAL MUSIC IS THE BEST MUSIC OF ALL, TO GET YA SOX OFF AND REALL PARTY HARDY WON’T STARTY

I AM NOT A FREAK, I AM A YOUTUBE ******, AN INTERNET ******, I HATE PEOPLE TREATING ME L;ILE A FREAK CAUSE THEY ARE JEALOUS

I DON’T WANT TO GET KILLED OR KIDNAPPED, OR ANYTHING, BUT I AM NOT SHY TO L.OVE COMPUTERS

I WISH THE WORLD WOULD STOP TREATING ME LIKE A FREAK, MY COMPUTER LIKES ARE

HEAVY METAL CONCERTS

LEARNING ABOUT THE WORLD

PUTTING MY ART ONLINE THROUGH ART COLONY

FINDING THE PERFECT PARTY SO I CAN SHARE IT WITH THE WORLD THROUGH YOUTUBE

TO FIND WRITING GROUPS LIKE FOCUS ON FICTION

OLD TV SHOWS I USED TO LOVE LIKE BECKER AND CHARLES IN CHARGE, ETC ETC

I WATCH A LOT OF TED DANSON’S BECKER, YA COULD SAY, I AM A BECKER MANIAC

THERE ARE MANY MORE, I ALSO HAVE SHOWS SHOWING THAT I CAN STICK AT DOING TAPESTRIES, BY INSPIRING PEOP,LE TO BE CREATIVITY

I HATE PEOPLE SAYING I AM TOO WOOSEY TO, TO GOOD ART, BUT OPEOPLE WHO SAY THAT, ARE THE BIGGEST FREAKS AROUND

IF PAT HATES HEAVY METAL,HE IS A FREAK, CAUSE HE HAD A FUNNY WAY OF SHOWING IT, WHEN HE MUCKED AROUND WITH ME

HE GOT ME INTO LOVING HEAVY METAL, AND STOP WORRYING WHAT PEOPLE THINK, I DON’T CARE WHAT PEOPLE THINK

I AM AN ARTIST, I AIN’T NO FREAK, I AM A WRITER I AIN’T NO FREAK I AM A YOUTUBE ENTERTAINER AND INSPIRER I AIN’T NO FREAK

I DO MY TAPESTRY ON YOUTUBE TO SHOW MY STAYING POWER, AND I HAVE STAYING POWER, REAL STAYING POWER

I THOUGHT DAD WAS TREATING ME LIKE A WRITER WHEN HE SAID I WAS LIKE OS, SO TO SPEAK

I AM NOT A FREAK, I AM STILL A LITTLE YOUNG DUDE, WHO IS FINE WITH HIS VIRGINITY

I DON’T CALL ME A FREAK, CAUSE I HAVEN’T HAD ***, I CXALL FREAKS, PEOPLE WHO SAY THEY ARE YOUNG WITH NO SOCIAL MEDIA

I AM ON FACE BOOK AND YOUTUBE, AND I HAVE A STRONG QUOTA ON THE INTERNET, I ASM NO FREAK, I AM NO GEEK

I AM THE COOLEST DUDE IN CANBERRA, AND THERE IS NO DOUBT ABOUT IT

I THINK MY OLD MATES ARE LIVING IN THE PAST WITH ME, EVERYBODY MAKES MISTAKES, EVERYONE HAS THOSEC DAYS

COME ON DUDES, GIVE ME A BREAK, I AM A LITTLE YOUNG DUDE WHO LOVES TO PARTY WITH HEAVY METAL MUSIC LIKE ACCCA DACCA

AND MOTLEY CRUE, AND I WATCH THE CONCERT ON YOUTUBE, DUDES, ALL THE BLASTED DAY LONG

DON’T CALL ME A FREAK, YOUR A FREAK, ESPECIALLY IF YA THINK I HATE PARTYING, I LOVE PARTYING, IT’S COOL FOR ME
jeffrey conyers Oct 2013
Hey, you got that mmmmmmmmmm love.
That makes me wants to ask for some more.
The way kiss just makes me melt.
To the point that I need some of your intimate touch.

At night.
You seems to be more than warm.
And when it rain.
Your voice sounds like a thunderstorm.

Hey, you got that mmmmmmm love.
And you seems to know that about yourself.
Like a mechanic that has the skills to make a car run.
You have the ability to make my engine over heat.

You're a wizard of magical power.
Who takes minutes and turn them into hours?
With that mmmmmmmmmmmmm love.
With that mmmmmmmmmmm love.

You got it.
You got.
I not a shame to shout it.
That you got it.
There is a surge of emotion that rises instantly from deep within when I hear favoured sounds

A primal rhythmic piece of music

The contented sigh of a loved one

The crackle of a fire
A whispered secret

Mmmmmmmm

These waves of energy are magickal to me

They enter our bodies and move through us

Merge with our souls

Taking us from where we were just a short moment ago,

To another realm

A delightful, expansive, intimate place within.

*Mmmmmmmm
zebra Jan 2019
I like seeing pretty Korean girl, Miss Mina, putting things in her mouth so I watch and watch and watch wondering if she like to put me in her mouth too.
I wonder am I a good texture
spicy, salty maybe a little sweet?

she said she likes cushy flexible
does not like it to thick on the outside
because it takes away the flavor of the inside

Hoping she eat me all up
like sea squirt and gogi mandu!
Ouchy Ouchy Ouchy
she's drooling on a slow riser
the top is dry and the bottom wet
but so soft
feels like a pillow
and a surprise inside
like edible paint

I love Korean food and Miss Mina look tasty too
I like to put her in my mouth like spicy noodle
taste like conditioned hair
or just maybe desert
but always moist on the inside
cookie yakgwa
mmmmmmmm
very tasty treat!

I want to eat her mommyoh too,
eeeeek
ok maybe a little stringy but still good enough :)

I like chrysanthemum bread
and kimchee dumpling
@
KOREAN STREET FOOD
on Jeju Island Market
make me happy


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TFAM2P1TX2I
food ***
Mohd Arshad Nov 2015
Forgiveness is a drop of water.
Our goodness and our conscience say
Give it to whoever ask us for and those who not.
Notes (optional)
B Aug 2013
i want to quit smoking
but i still need a new excuse
to be able to walk away
from a conversation
go outside
stare
into the world
and be like
i found my escape

one day
i won't be able to smoke cigarettes
and they'll offer me some
and i'll say
hey i wish i couuld
but the doctor says no
otherwise i'll die
and that'll be the only way
that i can ever walk away
and not feel like
i still want to hit it
let that soft delicious white piece of candy
go into my mouth
and blow out
mmmmmmmm
cigarettes
so good
such a long name
all of those syllables
just to say something so simple
why not
death
the greatest gift of all
little mini sticks
of death
little mini sticks
of things that are amazing
little mini tubular gifts
like donut sticks
mike dm Jan 2016
listening to Nirvana's "Something in the Way"
and i am -now- just realizing how ******* good this song is.

i mean, the mood cuts right to the bone:

underneath the bridge
tarp has sprung a leak
and the animals I've trapped
have all become my pets
and I'm living off of grass
and the drippings from the ceiiiilinggg
it's ok to eat fish 'cause they don't have any feeeeeelingsssssss

something in the way
mmmmmmmm
something in the way (yeah)
mmmmmmmhmmm


it's jus kurt on the geetar alone till the chorus, doing a simple chord,
and, thing is, he isn't so much singing as he is speaking in loose meter;
and it's almost as if between the words he is saying,
".. well how the **** could song survive this thing i am talking about
yuhknow? i am giving you my guts."

you finally get some lilt and rhyme that might be considered song
toward the end of the verse, but this is immediately undercut with,
of all things,
given what preceded it,
a joke ---- it's okay to eat fish 'cause they don't have any feelings

holyfuckingshitdoesthiscapturetheabsurdityofthings

an­d i don't mean a joke as in hahafunny but rather
what. else. can. i. do. but laugh, else i'll cry; and I can't cry anymore 'cause
i'm all outta tears. why??
because this abyss
called "existence" - that history, heh, tells us is imbued
with rational purpose or intent, or whatever -
bats its pretty little eyes at me like a big fuckyou..

i think
kurt is, suggesting, here:
laugh back.

it's like Camus' Sisyphus:

i
dare
you

to roll that same rock called "life" up the same hill everyday all day
and summon (somehow) a smile,

------ or at least a    s m  i      R    k

and watch as beauty bolts through your dead fecund heart
removing that
thing
in your way
dm micklow
eileen mcgreevy Jan 2010
Making a meal is like making love,
At the beginning, its all about preparation,
Getting the right ingredients, finding the right temperature,
And of course, one must love the meal one is about to "make".
And away you go, mixing up the wet and dry pieces,
Stirring them together until a stiff dough is formed,
The aromas tickle the nose, the taste of sweet and salt, just right,
The quickening of movement when everything begins to cook at the same time,
The heart starts pounding as boiling bubbles satisfy our senses,
A frenzied rush to get everything on the plate at the same time,
A  sudden rush of staem, noise, maybe a little burn or two?,
Then everything just kinda comes together, and the food is taken off the boil, simmering slowly to a warm glow,,, mmmmmmmm yumm.



                                                                  (c) eileenmcgreevy@ymail.com 2010
James Floss May 2017
A little less bitter
A little/lot  better
Let's add more butter—
Anything's better with butter!

A little/lot more richer
It might even bewitch her.
Let's ply her with chocolate
Everything's better with chocolate!

What's cake without icing?
Or for that matter, the ice cream?
Treat yourself with love as dessert
Sleep well, and have a nice dream.
I grew up chaotically
in dichotomy, my hands
in between the walls carrying bi-polarities
“cradles! babies that squeal
for fear of strangers,
mothers, where are the mothers,
where is the family, have you disappeared
in McDonalds and KFC’s?”

Flashing Christmas lights throbbing
in my left eye, so colourful I don’t know
directionality, temporality burning me up
losing me up, inside these sights I feel a, a
maze in again, and up again…like
a ****** on a horse-
“there are aliens outside!!”
though, on the other side
just
air
in my right eye. I see air, extending.
all the gentle blue hum of the air.
it goes, breathes, in and out.

Lalala,
mmmmmmmm
It's so satisfying man.
Tell everyone about it.

While everyone sleeps,
I creep into the boardrooms,
where they hold their secret meetings.

There are certain syndicates in charge
of things like this; devising plans,
scratching heads, drawing charts,
painting on brains,
with paint by numbers.  

But go on, (shuffle awkwardly),
for i am no emasculated lion
courageous in defeat,
i am merely a rose,
left lying on city streets.
Turtle Eyes Jul 2014
I miss everything about you.

I miss your beautiful face,
when I close my eyes I can picture it in front of me

I miss your incredible smile,
it melts my heart

I miss your laugh,
I love how you make me laugh and I you

I miss your touch,
So soft, so smooth, it gives me goosebumps

I miss your shimmy,
Whenever I look at you a certain way you do it for me

I miss your voice, especially how it
takes my breath away when I hear it unexpectedly

I miss your backwards glance,
how you look back at me with your evil thoughts

Mmmmmmmm, I miss your evil thoughts too.
I love being your partner in crime

I  miss your time, there is nobody
I would rather be with

I miss holding your hand
I look forward to holding it into old age

I miss hugging you
There is no better feeling in the world,
Well, .....

I miss you
I long to be with you
I love you more than words can say
My love continues to grow everyday for you

49
Donall Dempsey May 2017
GRANNY SHOCKS THE GRANDCHILDREN

me I always
wore a yellow pinafore dress
displaying my what-should-not-be-seen

or a Sgt. Pepper's jacket
serving as a dress...showing off
buttocks & knickers to great effect

moved from squat to squat
lived on hash and Mateus Rosé
***?was just...eh...there

I had loads of lads
loads of lads had me
music and *** - the twin gods

forget "I wanna hold your hand"
we were Stones fans mannnnn
sang "Lets spend the night together"

I wanted to be Juliette Gréco
read/re-read THE STORY OF O
De Sade's 120 DAYS OF *****

?morals/
yeah!yeah!yeah!
whatever

we were all of us always
trying to find ourselves
or escape from ourselves

Granda was mad
bad and gorgeous to know
like straying off the path into

the forest of a fairy story
a **** scary beast
my very own big bad wolf

an Mmmmmmmm
kind of man
"Eat me...eat me!" I'd yell at him

*** was that...what
cheered up those forever
endless rainy British afternoon
Turtle Eyes Aug 2014
The day has come when I get to see your beautiful face, I've already started smiling

The day has come when I get to touch you,  your skin is amazingly soft and tanned

The has come when I get to kiss you,
Your lips are perfectly moist

The day has come that I get to hug you, you belong in my arms

The day has come that I get to undress you, I've missed that body so

The day has come that I get to press my naked body up against yours,
I feel my heart racing

The day has come that I feel your touch, I have missed your hands on me so much

The day has come that I get to look you in the eyes and tell you that I love you,
You will never doubt it again

The day has come that I get to put my lips, mouth and tongue on your body, mmmmmmmm, your sweet juices are divine

The day has come that I get to slide inside of you, we will be one again

The day has come that I get to make sweet passionate love to you,  it is the most amazing feeling in the world

The day has come that I get to explode with you, look me in the eyes as I tell you how much I love you as you cry beautiful tears, and explode with me as I fill you up again!  11

Oh how I have waited for this day to come! I love you and can't wait to be with you baby. I need to do all of those things or I may die! Mmmmmmmm!
Donall Dempsey Aug 2019
CRÚISCÍN...CÍSTÍN BAISE
(LITTLE JUG...LITTLE PALM CAKE*)

Auntie Mary’s
currant cake & blackberry jam

“Mmmmmmmm”

The jewels in the crown
of our forever summer

holiday

precious Corkonian objects
brought back to the lowly lowlands of the Curragh.

All the blackberries
that ever were

bursting with sunshine
& childhood

jumping into the jar for her
as if it were an honour.

They & I
transformed by her

love
& lovely laughter

cake baked
with smiles & chuckles

winks & singings.

Me on her knee...tiny
being kissed to bits.

Me being devoured
by an enormous hug

smothered in bosoms
the many many yellow flowers on her purple pinny.

Her blowing my curls out of the way
so that her smile could kiss me

more & more...er!

Me unable to comprehend anything
of her Cork accent.

Me saying “Yes..? ” & “No..? ”
in all the wrong hilarious places

(to my great embarrassment
& her great amusement)

her breath tickling my cheek
telling me she loved me...loved me...

& that I looked so good

she could “...ate ya! ”

Love as visible
as the flour

in the air
in our hair.
*******

(* Homely little terms! A little jug of milk and a little cake in the palm of your hand.)

A cístín baise is a little cake made on the side of the griddle especially for the child...eh...“helping” with the baking.

This was written for my Aunt Mary who passed away recently leaving me with nothing but the memory of her love...her all abiding love...that not even her death can diminish. I simply adored her.

The Cork accent is like fast fluent French cross pollinated with
sing- song Welsh...almost impossible to understand unless you are immersed in it for a couple of months! But of course she would also play with me and make up a whole lot of what they call in Cork...
“glig glag”...silly talk.

She was so easy to love.

A child’s delight!
mmm
mmm
mmm
mmm
mmm
mmm
mmm
mmm
mmm
mmm
mmm
mmm
mmm
mmm
mmm
mmm
m­mm
mmm
mmm
mmm
mmm

oooh
ooooh
oooooh
ooooh
oooooh
ooooooh

mmmmm­
mmmm oooh
oooooooooooh
oooooooooooooooooh
oooooooh oooooooooooh
OH! OOOOOOH!
mmmmmmm OOOOOOH!
mmmmmm mmm
OOOOH OOOOOH
**** YES!  ****!
MMMMMMMM
OH ****!
OOOOOO!
OOOOOOH!
OOOOOOH!
OOOOOOO
OOOOOO
ooooh
mmmmmmm
mm­mmm
mike Sep 2015
i dont know how to tell you this, .....but there is a living sloth
inside of your stomache...
..oh, dont worry. The sloth is in PERFECT HEALTH : ) Its going to be juuust fine. What we're going to do is we're going to cut you open, after you die ofcourse,
and extract the cute little fella from your stomache wound. Im thinking about giving it to my daughter who lives in california with her alcoholic lawer **** mother so she remembers me before i move to costa rica with my 19 year old philipino model wife and totally detatch myself from her life and get the philipino pregnant and start a new family which i will also one day forget. Ahhh yes, retirment will be fun..in those years, i think i might start to finally explore my unhealthy interest in little boys and becoming a woman. Transgender, that is. Mmmmmmmm........costa rica.....
MMMMMMMM FIRE BURNING UMMMMMMMM FIRE BURNING UMMMMMMM

PLEASE PUT IT OUT UMMMMMMM IN SURRY HILLS, UMMMMMMM PUT THE FIRE OUT


UMMMMMMM PUT THE FIRE OUT, FIRE BURNING UMMMMMMM FIRE BURNING UMMMMMM

WE MUST ASSIST THJE FIREMEN, FIRE BURNING UMMMMMMM FIRE BURNING UMMMMMM

IT’S TERRIBLE, UMMMMMMM IT’S TERRIBLE UMMMMMMM IT’S SO TERRIBLE

UMMMMMMM FIRE BURNING UMMMMMM LET BUDDHA’S SPIRIT UMMMMMM PUT THE FIRE OUT

UMMMMMMMM PUT THE SURRY HILLS FIRE OUT UMMMMMMMMM BUDDHA
DiamondGirl Oct 2014
I love you
exactly how you are-
I love your shape, we fit together
I love your size, the pressure is perfect
I love your color, milky
Mmmmmmmm, you
are exactly
right for me.
Donall Dempsey May 2018
GRANNY SHOCKS THE GRANDCHILDREN

me I always
wore a yellow pinafore dress
displaying my what-should-not-be-seen

or a Sgt. Pepper's jacket
serving as a dress...showing off
buttocks & knickers to great effect

moved from squat to squat
lived on hash and Mateus Rosé
***?was just...eh...there

I had loads of lads
loads of lads had me
music and *** - the twin gods

forget "I wanna hold your hand"
we were Stones fans mannnnn
sang "Lets spend the night together"

I wanted to be Juliette Gréco
read/re-read THE STORY OF O
De Sade's 120 DAYS OF *****

?morals?
yeah!yeah!yeah!
whatever

we were all of us always
trying to find ourselves
or escape from ourselves

Granda was mad
bad and gorgeous to know
like straying off the path into

the forest of a fairy story
a **** scary beast
my very own big bad wolf

an Mmmmmmmm
kind of man
"Eat me...eat me!" I'd yell at him

*** was that...what
cheered up those forever
endless rainy British afternoon
Donall Dempsey Aug 2022
CRÚISCÍN...CÍSTÍN BAISE
(LITTLE JUG...LITTLE PALM CAKE)

Auntie Mary’s
currant cake & blackberry jam

“Mmmmmmmm”

The jewels in the crown
of our forever summer

holiday

precious Corkonian objects
brought back to the lowly lowlands of the Curragh.

All the blackberries
that ever were

bursting with sunshine
& childhood

jumping into the jar for her
as if it were an honour.

They & I
transformed by her

love
& lovely laughter

cake baked
with smiles & chuckles

winks & singings.

Me on her knee...tiny
being kissed to bits.

Me being devoured
by an enormous hug

smothered in bosoms
the many many yellow flowers on her purple pinny.

Her blowing my curls out of the way
so that her smile could kiss me

more & more...er!

Me unable to comprehend anything
of her Cork accent.

Me saying “Yes..? ” & “No..? ”
in all the wrong hilarious places

(to my great embarrassment
& her great amusement)

her breath tickling my cheek
telling me she loved me...loved me...

& that I looked so good

she could “...ate ya! ”

Love as visible
as the flour

in the air
in our hair.

*

(
Homely little terms! A little jug of milk and a little cake in the palm of your hand.)

A cístín baise is a little cake made on the side of the griddle especially for the child...eh...“helping” with the baking.

This was written for my Aunt Mary who passed away leaving me with nothing but the memory of her love...her all abiding love...that not even her death can diminish. I simply adored her.

The Cork accent is like fast fluent French cross pollinated with
sing- song Welsh...almost impossible to understand unless you are immersed in it for a couple of months! But of course she would also play with me and make up a whole lot of what they call in Cork...
“glig glag”...silly talk.

She was so easy to love.
Donall Dempsey Jun 2023
CRÚISCÍN...CÍSTÍN BAISE
(LITTLE JUG...LITTLE PALM CAKE)    

Auntie Mary’s
currant cake & blackberry jam

“Mmmmmmmm”

The jewels in the crown
of our forever summer

holiday

precious Corkonian objects
brought back to the lowly lowlands of the Curragh.

All the blackberries
that ever were

bursting with sunshine
& childhood

Jumping into
the jar for her
as if it were
an honour.

They & I
transformed by her

love
& lovely laughter

cake baked
with smiles & chuckles

winks & singings.

Me on her knee...tiny
being kissed to bits

Me being devoured
by an enormous hug

smothered in bosoms
many many yellow flowers on her purple pinny.

Her blowing my curls
out of the way

so that her smile
could kiss me

more &
more...er!

Me unable to
comprehend anything

of her
Cork accent.

Me saying “Yes..? ”  &  “No..? ”
in all the wrong hilarious places

(to my great embarrassment
& her great amusement)    

her breath
tickling my cheek

telling me
she loved me
...loved me...

& that I looked
so good

she could
“...ate me! ”

*

(
Homely little terms! A little jug of milk and a little cake in the palm of your hand.)    

A cístín baise is a little cake made on the side of the griddle especially for the child...eh...“helping” with the baking.

This was written for my Aunt Mary who passed away recently leaving me with nothing but the memory of her love...her all abiding love...that not even her death can diminish. I simply adored her.

The Cork accent is like fast fluent French cross pollinated with sing- song Welsh...almost impossible to understand unless you are immersed in it for a couple of months! But of course she would also play with me and make up a whole lot of what they call in Cork... “glig glag”...silly talk.

She was so easy to love.

A child’s delight!
flitting Apathy Nov 2020
I sat next to the refrigerator
because after a while of feeling its cold breath
he'll hum me a song
mmmmmmmm
are you lonely like me?
your voice is raspy and dull
like a tree stripped from its bark
the bark left out in the storm
my desk
nothing left
i will listen to your song
even if i freeze i hope that you
appreciate it?
Sheila Stafford Jun 2020
As I lay Supine staring out of my window
At the sky
What life was all about

I was wondering if I had enough time
To follow my dream

I wanted to dance
Move freely
Like the wind
Glide across the floor
Like a swan
So elegant
And graceful

To be seen
So supreme

Yet I lay
Sedentary
Bored
At an age of 94
Mmmmmmmm
Donall Dempsey Aug 2020
CRÚISCÍN...CÍSTÍN BAISE
(LITTLE JUG...LITTLE PALM CAKE*)

Auntie Mary’s
currant cake & blackberry jam

“Mmmmmmmm”

The jewels in the crown
of our forever summer

holiday

precious Corkonian objects
brought back to the lowly lowlands of the Curragh.

All the blackberries
that ever were

bursting with sunshine
& childhood

jumping into the jar for her
as if it were an honour.

They & I
transformed by her

love
& lovely laughter

cake baked
with smiles & chuckles

winks & singings.

Me on her knee...tiny
being kissed to bits.

Me being devoured
by an enormous hug

smothered in bosoms
the many many yellow flowers on her purple pinny.

Her blowing my curls out of the way
so that her smile could kiss me

more & more...er!

Me unable to comprehend anything
of her Cork accent.

Me saying “Yes..? ” & “No..? ”
in all the wrong hilarious places

(to my great embarrassment
& her great amusement)

her breath tickling my cheek
telling me she loved me...loved me...

& that I looked so good

she could “...ate ya! ”

Love as visible
as the flour

in the air
in our hair.
*******

(* Homely little terms! A little jug of milk and a little cake in the palm of your hand.)

A cístín baise is a little cake made on the side of the griddle especially for the child...eh...“helping” with the baking.

This was written for my Aunt Mary who passed away recently leaving me with nothing but the memory of her love...her all abiding love...that not even her death can diminish. I simply adored her.

The Cork accent is like fast fluent French cross pollinated with
sing- song Welsh...almost impossible to understand unless you are immersed in it for a couple of months! But of course she would also play with me and make up a whole lot of what they call in Cork...
“glig glag”...silly talk.

She was so easy to love.

A child’s delight!
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2022
title: hoops
body:
&
epithets. /?/    (a 502 bad gateway bypass puzzle-box of words)


shy, tender doe - she first meets me at work
and starts lying...
the lie comes into the open...
the entire work-group is against her
while i'm the only one to her defence:
the person she slandered
for being drunk at work...

           i need to pull her closer to me,
ever more closer, tender her up...
she's not getting away, no ******* way...
i have a wooden pike in my heart...
i've gotten the butterflies, the stomach aches,
cramps...
i'm now getting a hot-flush of pink bruises
and hues on my face...
she's going... no... where...
   i'm going to have to go all out crazy with
this *****...

but unlike an abstract psychosis...
at least this madness has a focus...
she... Jeminah... little dove...
but unlike that ancient ****** proverb:
better a sparrow in your hand
than a dove on your roof...
            it's only a little dove... so it might
as well be a sparrow...

in the next few hours i'm looking to three
things... four...
writing my father's invoice while he's over
relaxing in Jamaica...
taking out the garbage: massive fetish for recycling...
cleaning the refrigerator...
and... again: beggars can't be choosers,
i can't help falling in love with someone...
i went out in the rain: thank god,
the bouquet will last...
  
   i bought a Valentine's card and a bouquet...
no... not roses...
**** knows what flowers...
i was looking at the small print in
the Sunday Times trying to find a sigh...
i was most certainly exasperated...
where am i? oh... right... in a shop...
when was the last time i bought someone
a Valentine's card and flowers?
oh, right... like never... never...

it's like a Bon Jovi song... your love is bad medicine...
i could stomach cancer right about now...
i would wed death with philosophy
or something along those lines...
my head isn't right... its ******* on
but it isn't oiled on, properly...
it's this dog-whistle screeching banshee of
an ego that's keeping me disorientated...

if this is what love feels like?
**** me...
             outright... **** me...
too many red flags but like an idiot i'm still
heading into the eye of the storm...
too many butterflies...
the stake in the heart...
the hot flushes... ruining my already ruined
complexion... like i already said countless times...
acne, dead white blood cells building up
on your face? at 35? you have to be kidding me!
well then... Beelzebub took a **** on
my face... i'm squirting maggot juice...

oh, but this doe isn't going anywhere,
lucky night, the 13th... i'll write the invoice,
i'll take out the garbage, i'll clean the refrigerator...
i'll drink a little... perhaps i'll write some more...
come 1am i'll cycle to her house
and leave the bouquet of flowers outside
her door while slipping the card through her
door...

what did i write? ****... what did i write...

how do you write an adequate onomatopoeia
for a sigh?
   i don't think you can...
anyway: i hate roses, unless they're pink;
i think that one in the bouquet is a fuchsia (pink).

your, not so anonymous Valentine
    
   Mmmmmmmm


       (the signing was done in a szlaczek...
a scribbling doodle ****** children
get accustomed to before they start writing
proper)...

and here i am, getting all excited about dropping
flowers and a Valentine's card outside a woman's
house, a single mum that slandered me at
work...
she dated alcoholics and i know from experience
what women living with alcoholics are like...
you wear a little cologne: paranoid *****
starts thinking you've been drinking:
because her previous boyfriends have tried
to bash her head in...

i drink... heavily... but the first person who's going
to get a beating from anyone is:
I vs. I...
think about... massive attack ft. mos def:
i against i...
   you'll get the picture... i'll start "pretending"
to be wrestling my shadow...
if she's this mad ***** she thinks she is...
she hasn't come across a madman that hasn't
been admitted to hospital...
or a mental institution... no... no...
the psychiatrists scrutinised me and figured out:
let him run riot...
partaking in the undercurrents of society
circa 2007... seems to be going well...
now... 2007... what year are we in?
2022... 3... 10... 2... 15 years later i'm figuring out
love again... i'm in love...

what love isn't delusional...
run rabbit, run rabbit... i'll catch you rabbit...

and i mean: i used to be the guy who'd cycle
at night to a brothel to get all the fleshy
parts sorted out in bourbon soaked walls
and dim lights...
sometimes i'd hit the mark by giving her
an ****** and she would look all shook up,
surprised... oh... almost in agony:
as if she purposively wanted herself to not feel
pleasured...
other times there would be no chemistry
no hard-on... we'd exchange words...
etymological roots, i'd kiss her lips, her eyelids,
her ears, her hands... stroke her legs...
drown in her hair...
other times i'd just get off, not give a ****...
those times were the best:
that's when the roles fitted the circumstances...
i was the pundit and she was the *******...
but now? ****'s sake...
we're talking about the matters of the heart...

i'm getting excited about leaving a doodle
in a card, dropping it through a mailbox
while also leaving a bouquet of flowers at her door...
i don't like roses... unless they're pink...
oh, by the way... this one is a fuchsia pink...
there's no good onomatopoeia for a sigh...

                                  i'm going to use an acronym
and if i could, a hieroglyph-emoji: w.t.f.?!

no emoji...            ?!           will just have to do...

i swear to god, impossible, hopeless love makes
you silly as ****, i don't know whether that's
the comedian in me that comes out, but...
look at me... a grown man stalked by mush...
i love it! i, so, so... so... love it!
i missed this feeling... this insecurity,
this vulnerability!

point being... i don't think she's expecting
flowers... run little rabbit, rabbit...
now that my nose is twitching like it might be
Samantha's in Bewitched...
not until what i get...
i'm not having my heart burdened by
this iron maiden of tortures... from this coy doe...

i try to sober up...
how could Michael Myers love?
               i guess... only like this...
                   with a head-dive...
Kamikaze... カミカゼ
                       i don't think i can love any other way...
forget about dates... i'll do the cooking...
we can stay inside...
i'm not going to parade you...
we'll raise this kid, the two of us...

oh... how splendid will the crash be...
when i get rejected... but... for the time being...
it's much cheaper to drop a Valentine's card
and a bouquet of flowers at night at her door
than going to the brothel...

run little rabbit, run...
Donall Dempsey Dec 2023
MR. FOTHERGILL'S DISEASE

"Oh yum yum yum!"
slurrped  THE PAIN

...eating my life.

"Munchmunchmunch!"
it had already eaten its way

through half MY PAST.

"A tasty titbit!"
as it put it.

It was chomping on
MY PRESENT at the moment

gnawing me down to
the bone.

"Leaving the marrow for tomorrow!"
it muttered.

Licked its chops.

Stories & time &
bits of my mind

drooling greasily from
its lips.

"MmmmmmmmMmmmmmmmm!"
it mmmmmmmm'd/

"Now, wot's for dessert...eh?"

"Oh goody goody gum drums...
. . . a FUTURE!"

THE PAIN snorted
"I loves FUTRES best!"

I stood there
without a word

to come and
rescue

me
screaming noisily

as THE PAIN

ate

me all

up.

*

The trials and tribulations of Trigeminal Neuralgia otherwise known as Suicide's Disease....pain at its most intense and immense!. The bane of my existence!

— The End —