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Chris Jun 2015
~
Weeping hydrangeas spill
sapphire tears falling,
drenching grey scale gardens
suspended, free flowing
a mobile of distractions
on tiny threads scattered
above clouded daydreams
Worded floating silent streams,
spinning slowly, creating phrases
on whirlwind petals,
browned edges frame
whispered wonderings
sans answers
upon somber breezes
of yesterday’s questions

or

A cappella Hydrangeas
send harmonic petals floating
upon melodic wind chime breezes,
suspended soft concerto clouds
on love sonnet strings
tuned to a spring day,
as flowering symphonies,
acoustic mobiles of emotion
bloom within a garden
of daffodils dreams
in unison with lyrical
compositions of nature’s
*enchanting song
I like the happy one best myself.  :)
Raj Arumugam Dec 2012
1
Tap, tap, tap
Pinch and expand
Pinch and expand
Tap, tap, tap


I love this dance you do
my dearies, each one of you
on your mobiles and devices
We too play with our fingers
and keep our eyes fixed
on your pockets and purses
and wallets

Tap, tap, tap
Pinch and expand
Pinch and expand
Tap, tap, tap

Stay diverted -
we love this what you do,
me Fagin
and all me children
and Jack Dawkins too,
that Artful Dodger

2
Come on, dear children of Fagin mine
this here is Paradise
All these people with eyes
and fingers on their devices
and brains in idle mode
in these crowded malls -
it’s our Paradise, dear babies mine
Whilst they are so preoccupied
let’s to our devices
And we can pick, pick, pick
whilst they tap, tap, tap

3
Ah ha, keep tapping on your mobiles
each one of you, my dearies
with your eyes on the mobile
when at the shops and in crowds
and at new year celebrations
Keep your eyes there, indeed
each one of you, my dearies
Tap, tap, tap
pinch and expand with 2 fingers on the screen
eyes mostly there on your devices
Tap, tap, tap
pinch, pinch, pinch
  
and  let your *******
burst like shooting stars
All like a dance, as in a dance
each one of you in public spaces,
my dearies
so do the merry dance of your fingers
and eyes on the devices
And we?
We love this, me Fagin
and all me children
and Jack Dawkins too
(that Artful Dodger)
while You
tap, tap, tap
and we
pick, pick, pick
at this our harvest at shopping malls
Fagin is that unsavory character from “Oliver Twist” by Charles Dickens who trains and bullies children into a life of pickpocketing and crime. Fagin, that “old gentleman”, would have loved our preoccupation with cell or mobile phones even when we are in crowded places - especially in crowded places.
Supriya Mar 2015
The alarm goes off and I put it on snooze
It keeps ringing until I finally make truce.
This is one of the many uses of a mobile phone
Is it a pro or is it a con?

I find a quiet corner so I can get some peace
Suddenly the notifications on my phone find a release
But keep the phone on silent so you may say
Alas even on silent it keeps vibrating away.
This is one if the many uses of a mobile phone
Is it a pro or is it a con?

I have skipped work, for today I feel sick
Oh there is an urgent call from work I need to pick
But you can switch the phone off so you may say
But in the wireless era that's a heavy price to pay
This is one of the many uses of a mobile phone
Is it a pro or is it a con?

I am lost in a new place all alone
With enthusiasm I use the gps on my mobile phone!
I ignore the little child trying to give me directions
I realize later I should have shown some affection.
This is one of the many uses of a mobile phone
Is it a pro or is it a con?

I get an idea and i search for a notebook
But I am traveling in a crowded train that I took
With a delight I start typing my idea away
I realize this is the only way
I save my work and feel relieved
God bless the soul who invented mobiles for his deed.
This is one of the many uses of a mobile phone
Is it a pro or is it a con.

Mobiles are devices that shoukd make life easy
But with mobiles everyone just seems busy
Everything in moderation is the best solution
Anything in excess only leads to destruction.
Its for us to decide how best to use its benefits
Or soon mobile phones may become extinct.

There are many uses of a mobile phone
Is it a pro or is it a con?
Paul Butters Jul 2014
For seventy or more years TV
And radio ruled the world,
Along with telephones.
But then computers made their mark,
Soon followed by mobiles, Smartphones,
Ipads, Bluetooth, Wifi and who knows what?
In no particular order.

So herds of sheep migrated
Into Cyberspace
Even Myspace!
Then on to Planet Facebook
And Terratwitter.

We talk with people we’ve never met,
And meet folk with whom we’ve never talked.
It keeps us occupied I guess,
And gives relief from stress.

These images that yet fresh images beget,
I’m sure Yeats would agree.
I tolerate these adverts flashing in my face
And soak up knowledge to my solid mental grace.

A world of wonders beckons in
The depths of Cyberspace,
And as a Nerd before they were invented,
I have to say I’ve truly found my place.

Paul Butters
About modern things.
Donall Dempsey Apr 2016
THE CALDER TREE
( for Connie )

The tree stands
naked

against a sunset
leafless.

She cries for the tree's
lost leaves.

I tuck her into bed
promise to make her

a tree
a la Calder.

Dawn sees the tree
adorned

in mobiles...wind chimes
where leaves should be.

The tree sings
the morning.

Mobiles sings the day
that is

to be.

The Calder tree
orchestrates this Thursday.

Birds are
our choir.

She stands under
understands

the moment
as it

sings.  

She the one "stabile"
beneath the cascade

of wind chimes & mobiles
that the morning plays.

The tree
forever planted

in her mind
now

all of her
outstretched

as she listens to
Time singing.


"Each element able to move, to stir, to oscillate, to come and go in its relationships with the other elements in its universe. It must not be just a fleeting "moment" but a physical bond between the varying event in life."

Alexander "Sandy" Calder, Comment réaliser l'art?", Abstraction-Création, Art-non Figuratif. 1932.

She nicknamed the tree "Sandy" and was her wont treating it as a living being. "I must go out and talk to Sandy!" she would say and leave us humans for conversation with a tree. I thought it was a good idea to introduce her to Art naturally and throw in mother nature herself for good measure.
Simon Soane Sep 2015
Some people say they don't like social networking
on mobile phones,
"it distances us from human connection"
they bleat and moan,
"takes us away from natural converging,
curtails face to face ties from emerging,
subdues us in a swamp of technology,
this engagement with messaging is surely a folly."
And as they depart they say,
“give me a person over a mobile msg anyday.”
Now don't get me wrong eye to eye communing is amazing
and it's not the last reserve of a luddite to prefer tactile phrasing
or to think sweet nothings into a there ear is best
but that doesn't mean there is nothing in mobile caress.
Because you can meet someone at a festival, and feel a sweet spark
that thunders through the roaming larks
and then when you part after a few days
think, "oh, that was awesome, I enjoyed their ways,
they made me laugh and gave me jumping smiles,
****, it's a pity between us there are miles and miles."
But when you arrive home and charged up a message pings
"you back now?" I see it and start to feel sing.
So we take our phones and chat all the next day,
getting to know each other in a happy appy way,
giggling at your words, beaming at the next
growing through lightning at each little text,
learning more in these screen chats;
you go to lots of BBQs and love dogs and cats,
you dye your hair and are calamity stricken
your top fajitas are finger lickin,
you know Mandarin and are ace at Catchphrase
and you have an inclination for New York days,  
you can analytically discuss scenes from C Street,
you can charm the customers at a store meet and greet,
you can decipher the nuance in The Bistro goss,
you can put up with **** from ****** at Argos.
You have a mate who picks up Mark Ronson's pooch,
you've saved a big crustacean when been on a mooch,
you can relate a song to Odysseus using sheep to save his men
and watch Mr G the musical over and over again,
you stay up/get up to watch the Super Bowl,
you type faster than a thought on a roll,
you've danced with Pete Barlow's ship mate from Corrie,
you can drive a car and a van, I recks you could handle a lorry!
You have loads of friends and often verge on more dislocation,
I want to be near you, whatever the location.
I want to pull you out of a hat
and see you stand on my welcome mat,
see, mobiles are good because it's good to feel that.
But if some quantum physicists are to be believed, after perusing their hefty tomes,
somewhere in infinite there is a place with no mobile phones,
and a boom of synchronicity has to be carried on by pen on paper
and there are days and days tween a tumbling heebie jeebie butterfly caper,
and then it's sent with a hope that it won't be lost in the post,
and be not read, like a bottled message uncorked by the coast.
Maybe a letter and no phones is better for starting a fizz
but right now mobiles make this what it is;
if not for them would I feel this close to you?
Or be writing this to you?
Right now I like feeling close to you,
and I like writing this to you,
to you Lou.
Hi!  The middle part pertains specifically to a person I know but you get the gist!
Peace! x
where have conversations gone
long time passing
where have all our love words gone
long time ago
where have all our love words gone
mobiles took them, every one
when will we ever learn
I hope they will return

where have all the mobiles gone
long time passing
where have all the notebooks gone
long time ago
where have all the kindles gone
turned to tablets, every one
when will we ever learn
there will be no return

where have all the tablets gone
long time passing
where have all the smart phones gone
long time ago
where have all these gadgets gone
been recycled every one
never they will return
never they will return

where have all the users gone
long time passing
where have all the texters gone
long time ago
there lie all the facebooks slain
people try to speak again
when will we ever learn
hope they again can learn
Obviously trying to do a half-serious, twitter-age version of Peter Seeger’s “Where have all the flowers gone?” (My favorite rendering is by Peter, Paul, and Mary)
Paul Butters Mar 2022
An app for this
An app for that
An app even,
To feed your cat.

Mesmerised by mobiles
All these zombies shuffle along
Nearly getting run over
So internet throng.

Scanning with their debit cards
No time for cash
But I don’t trust these things
With their laser flash.

All this social media
Where is it going?
So much information
Toing and froing.

Good to keep in touch
And so easy to Google
Want to make a noise?
It’s better than a bugle.

Better check in on Facebook
So you all know where I am
Time to check my emails
To bin the latest scam.

But whatever happened to talking?
It’s now a forgotten art!
The cyber revolution:
This is just the start.

Paul Butters

© PB 19\3\22.
tangshunzi Jun 2014
Sarò onesto .L'autunno è la mia stagione preferita .E ** tempo per maglioni accogliente .buonissimo cacao caldo e curling dal fuoco per quasi tutto l'anno .Cioè .fino a quando io offro i miei occhi su un tropicale amore -fest come questo giorno cara catturato dai Jonas Peterson .Perché questo .amici miei .è un insieme capolavoro piena di sole contro la terra mozzafiato conosciuta come Fiji .e se ogni ultima immagine gloriosa non ti vuole mettere in valigia un po 'di infradito e prendere il primo volo fuori .non so cosa farà .Vedi tutto qui .


E un piccolo film magia Zoom Fiji ?Penso che lo faremo .Si prega di aggiornare il tuo

browserColorsSeasonsSpringSettingsGolf ResortStylesDestination Da Sposa.Sono cresciuto sognando di sposarsi su un'isola tropicale e Fiji era il posto perfetto per rendere questo sogno .Fiji occupa un posto speciale in entrambi i nostri cuori come Dave mi ha sorpreso proponendo e organizzato per volare verso Fiji il giorno successivo per una vacanza incredibile .Siamo entrambi innamorati amare la cultura delle Fiji abiti da sposa on line .il popolo delle Fiji sono così felice e cordiale e ci siamo sempre sentiti così benvenuti.Abbiamo deciso di fare l'Intercontinental Golf Resort \u0026 Spa sulla Coral Coast .un posto così bello .Volevamo un matrimonio intimo con amici e famiglia per condividere il nostro giorno speciale .Abbiamo voluto creare un'atmosfera divertente e rilassante dove i nostri ospiti possono rilassarsi e hanno una grande vacanza !Ciò che era speciale era di essere in grado di uscire con i nostri ospiti che portano al matrimonio .cocktail a bordo piscina .snorkelling sulla barriera corallina e grandi cene .La mia wedding planner Jane all'Intercontinental Golf Resort e Spa ha fatto il lavoro più sorprendente prendersi cura di tutto.Dave e io non dovevano preoccuparsi per una cosa !Come eravamo sposati all'estero ** ancora voluto mettere il mio tocco speciale al nostro matrimonio così ** avuto una



palla di abiti da sposa 2014 progettare i nostri inviti di nozze.Volevo solo qualcosa di casuale e divertente per riflettere la giornata .
erano così felici con quello che il villaggio fornito in termini di fiori e decorazioni .siamo stati fortunati nostra famiglia sono stati in grado di aiutare le decorazioni parlare etc oltre a Fiji .E 'stato importante per noi per i nostri ospiti di sperimentare alcuni la cultura delle Fiji così abbiamo incorporato ballerini Fiji e uno spettacolo di fuoco .tutti i nostri ospiti davvero apprezzato questo .è veramente fatto la notte così speciale .Abbiamo anche avuto serenaders giocare prima della cerimonia e durante l' ora del cocktail .** anche avuto il privilegio di essere scortato alla cappella da due guerrieri delle Fiji .Il nostro ricevimento si è tenuto presso la firma raffinato ristorante Intercontinentals Navo che si affaccia sulla laguna e l'isola di Navo .Dave e ** organizzato un cocktail speciale per tutti i nostri ospiti in arrivo .è stato un mojito di cocco .i nostri ospiti davvero apprezzato questo tocco speciale .** amato il mio bouquet di orchidee e la bella rosa zenzero damigelle mazzi di fiori .hanno legato perfettamente con i loro abiti Amsale .I ragazzi hanno ben sopportare il calore indossando abiti in calore !

Una cosa che era molto importante per me era il nostro fotografo di matrimoni .Avevo fatto la mia ricerca.ma il mio cuore è stato impostato su Jonas Peterson .Non sono rimasto deluso .ha catturato il nostro giorno così bello .entrambi amiamo le nostre foto e li faremo amare sempre .** anche volato su un artista makeup incredibile da Sydney .Christina Chiaramente che era stato a Fiji molte volte quindi sapevo che ero in buone mani .Lei ha fatto un ottimo lavoro e siamo tutti sembrava così bello .il nostro trucco rimase tutto il giorno e la notte .** una squadra di provenienza dei capelli locale da Fiji .non sono rimasto deluso .sapevano esattamente quello che volevo e la loro conoscenza lavorando con i capelli al calore delle Fiji era incredibile !Abbiamo anche avuto il piacere di lavorare con Zoomfiji .hanno anche fatto un ottimo lavoro catturare il nostro giorno speciale .Ognuno è andato al di là di rendere il nostro giorno così incredibile .

Il personale era incredibile all'Intercontinental abiti da sposa 2014 e niente era troppo disturbo per loro .Hanno davvero fatto in modo che si cura di noi e abbiamo avuto il giorno avevamo sempre sognato !Vinaka !

Fotografo: Jonas Peterson | Abito da sposa: Spose di Beecroft | Cancelleria Wedding : Fave Paper Designs | Scarpe da sposa : peeptoe Scarpe | Abiti da sposa : Amsale | Makeup Artist : Christina Cleary | Capelli: Capelli N Mkp Perfezionista | Striscioni pubblicitari : Lullaby Mobiles| Pezzo di capelli della sposa : Kristi Bonnici Accessori da sposa | Abiti Girls ' : Silk \u0026 More | Località : Intercontinental Golf Resort \u0026 Spa FijiAmsale è un membro del nostro Look Book .Per ulteriori informazioni su come vengono scelti i membri .fare clic qui
http://www.belloabito.com/abiti-da-sposa-c-1
http://www.belloabito.com/goods.php?id=861
http://188.138.88.219/imagesld/td//t35/productthumb/2/4171635353535_396853.jpg
Fiji Wedding da Jonas Peterson_abiti da sposa corti
Big Virge Nov 2016
People are ... Funny ... !?!

They Now ... make me laugh ...

You talk ...
They DON'T ... listen ... !?!

MP's ... keep restricting ...

IGNORANCE ... in people ...
has now become ... SICKENING ... !!!!!

Kinda gets me to ... " Thinking " .....................

What a ... CRAZY WORLD ... !!!!!!

Girls ... Loving girls ...
Men ... Killing men ... !!!
Abuse of our children ...
by some who ... Teach them ... ???

But ......
What about those ... ?
with ... Abusive children ... ?!?

Those who ... Don't Care ...
about those ... who ... Made Them ... !!!

Adults are now ...
being chased by ... Children ... ?!?

Teenagers ........

RAGE ... !!!!!!!

Their acts of ... Aggression ...
are now ... OFF THE GAUGE ... !!!!!

Words on ... This Page ...
are my feelings ... Today ...

What more can I say ... ?

I write things ... This Way ...
to avoid seeing life
behind bars ... in a cage ...

Seems like ...
... " End of Days " ...
is Not ... far away ... !!!

But Many ... DON'T LIKE ...
The things that I say ...

because .....
Things that I say ...

Reflect on ........................................

What's TRUE ... !!!!!

But Many think wrongness ...
is just .... TV News ....

But ....
" Some of it's " ..... True .......
and can happen to ... YOU ... !!!

So ....
What would you do ... ?
if ... Sadness and Misery ...
Tainted ... your view ... !?!

Probably ........

LOSE YOUR COOL ... !!!!!!!

Be an *** ...
or it's ... Mule ...
Give in ... to clues ...
that you ... HAVEN'T BEEN ... true ... !!!

True about ... " Things " ...
that ... Luxury brings ...

Like ... " Flash Golden Rings " ... !!!
or ... Diamonds that ... BLING ... !!!!!

Well ...
Here's the ... " Dilemma " ... ???

Life is for ... LIVING ...
but now we see ... KILLING ...
for ... Mobiles that ... " Ring " ... ?!?
or Jewellery that ... BLINGS ... !!!?!!!

So ....
What will you choose ... ?
to think you're a ... KING ... ?

cos' of ...
Your .... Diamond Ring .... ?

and .... wait for the ... KILLER ...
to come with ... " The Sting " ... !?!

Oh now ...
Just for you ladies ...
Let's ... " Rework " ... the scene ...

You've got to ... Realise ....
Luxury's ... for a ... " Queen " ...

But .....
to those who ... Don't have them ...
Your Bling ... is ... OBSCENE ... !!!!!!!!

Then YOU ...
like the ... Fellas' ...

Might find that ... " Your Dream " ...
is SHATTERED ... One Night ...
by a ... RUTHLESS ... " Street Team " ... !!!

I'm CHANGING ... like seasons ...
because of ... " These Reasons " ...
cos' actions ... some make ...
are Equal to ... TREASON ... !!!!!!!!

I REALLY ... am Dark ...
like that man ... Liam Neeson ...

This life has ... MORE MEANING ... !!!
than ... " Custom Made " ... Jewellery ... !!!

Like Bruce ...
when i'm writing ....
My fists ... bring the ... " FURY " ... !!!!!

cos people act ... CRAZY ... !!!!!
Their outlook seems ... " Hazy " ...

to make themselves money ....
Their Slim's ... REALLY SHADY ... !!!!!

Do you ...
Trust your lady ... ???

to bring up ... " Your Baby " ...
When Coc' ... is ... " The Drug " ...
she likes to take .... DAILY .... !!! ? !!!

Well ..........
Maybe just ... " Maybe " ... ???

If you see ... what I see ...
when you ... look around you ...

You may just agree ...
with ... A Brother ... like me ...

The world we now live in  ...
is TRULY ....

..... " CRAZY " .....
Well, now Mr. Trump's been elected, Americans, in many cases, are acting CRAZY, following Brexit', and whatever else is coming next, we are in some pretty crazy times........
Salmabanu Hatim Jul 2018
We give expensive gifts to our children on
Birthdays,
Achievements,
Marriages,
Adulthood (21 years),
and on and on.
Have we ever given them?
The Quran-Islam
The Bible-Christians
The Bhagavad Gita-Hinduism
The Tohra-Judaism
Guru Granth Sahib-Sikhism
Kojik-Shinto,
Avesta-Zeroastranism.
In today's world of chaos our children need them.
If learning is important why not between the pages of the holy books.
Let's make our holy books as important as our mobiles.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2016
that's a trinity of nouns in that one symbol 0,
that rhombus to a square (omicron) -
zero, nought, oh... and then there's fifteen-love
in tennis, and also nil - so that's more than
a trinity... never mind...

i know why Islam is attacking, a scene from
Hellraiser Hell on Earth, the church scene dialogue:
- my child, what's the matter, what on earth's the matter?
- i have to get back to my apartment, back to the window,
  but they just keep coming, they just keep coming!
- who keeps coming?
- the demons! the demons!
- demons? demons aren't real; they're parables, metaphors.
- then(,) what(,) the(,) ****(,) is(,) that?!

shows you how much people over-read the unearthing
of the Nag Hammadi library in Egypt,
simultaneously with the unearthing of the Isaiah script
after he was cut in half... so i guess this is a competition:
getting crucified (with so many eager Philippine Phillips
eager to address the Olympic record of a day on
the crucifix) - oh wait... didn't the saviour travel to Egypt
in fear of Herod? funny we should find the unorthodox
and therefore more prescriptive writings there...
all hell broke loose in psychiatry in the 1960s...
we had R.D. Laing cite the gospel of St. Thomas...
it's like that Hellraiser narrative... people really took it
seriously... a final testimony of mankind...
the Order of the Templar's Idol: the Bahomet -
that's why Islam is attacking... oh forget the king controlling
the pawns... Iranian women are having none of it...
they're mobilising pawns as we speak, day by day...
every single ******* day... they're mobilising men
against the abomination... supported quiet clearly
by a fear of striking emotion with language...
in Oxford, just recently, there was a ban on denoting
social status of Mr. and Ms., i too would have favoured
the idea of demonic possession, and the joke of the
town is transgender... for whatever feminism does,
it's insulted under the horse's galloping hoof and a
statement by the suffragette: Emily Davison -
she's being insulated... you little ******* are playing
the puppets of Iranian women, that's why you can't see them!
under their niqabs they're playing the boss...
who gives a **** whether they drive their cars!
do i have to be the ******* Greek around here?
ever talk to a woman about homosexuality over a glass of wine?
no, i bet you haven't... prostitution ain't that bad, after all...
but talk to a woman high on ******* about transgender...
see where civilisation ends up at... it won't be chess...
it'll be chess with a blind man, changing the rooks...
you can't be that ******* gullible, but you are, so i'll continue...
these are acts perpetuated by men by argument of women...
they're attacking Christendom (forget western culture,
that's pig ******* deep fried gone and dusted with
Trump as with Ronald Reagan)...
they're attacking because when the library of non-orthodox
Christianity emerged, it was like the Soviet Union
collapsing: a wild west... sure we lost a few good women
to the slavery of the brothel... but in return we learned to
make people obedient in being wrong... can't go
against archaeology... sure... shift the pyramids just a little
to the east and you'll get Auschwitz chimneys puffing...
hell, you might even get the wild idea of the hanging gardens
materialised.
so with that demon story... i'm starting to look at it:
well, thank **** for feminism, but, wait, oh, the insult...
the slap in the face... and then the defence mechanism
of politically correct speech... the transgender movement...
to me that's a perfect safety mechanism for Islam to attack...
this is Christianity 2.0... this is neglecting poetry,
this is the necessary ambiguity of language...
given that people are actually practising trans-gender
ergonomics rather than saying: well, if ambiguity has a case...
i'll just wear a t-shirt... but no! but no! castrate the *******
and send him off to Siberia! you know that Islam
is perpetuating war because of this, Islamic women are
laughing at us... one was noted for the childish example
of tongue-out-of-cheek pointing beneath the veil: hell bound.
the Jews of Europe never made use of political
correctness in the realm of speech - but we don't
have Jews in Europe, America is thriving,
we're stuck with Muslims teaching us German guilt...
i'm not French, nor the mythological Swede kept neutral
even though receiving parts of the Marshall Plan
rejuvenation program of the war torn parts...
the part of me with Mongol just says: well,
Golgotha Pyramid of Baghdad - later known as
the Laughing Cranium Dynamo of Baghdad.
but they really did take the metaphors too literally...
just read the Gospel of Thomas...
it's all there, trans-gender and lubrication -
defending trans-gender rights just insults women,
those in favour of defeating the western cause are obvious...
all that care for feminism gets the cold-salmon fillet slap
across the case... get the **** back into the water!
king in chess a mere cameo extension of pawn -
queen in chess a marooned combination of bishop rook and knight -
or the ****** diversity, mantis and black widow,
the abstract, looking down onto a board...
but in the mammalian realm? the reverse...
oh ****** i'll mobiles... fascism against fascism...
i'm looking up... and what i see i see as what Horace said
to me in the 21st version of the Diverting Comedy -

vivere si recte nescis, decede peritis.
Lusisti satis, edisti satis atque bibisti:
tempus abire tibi est, ne potum lagrius aequo
rideat et pulset lasciva decetius aetas.

                 (you alone bring no bettering of life,
allow others to live, who can beyond your incompetence
to likewise aim at the laurel crown of economic competence
of mortality. you have used enough of allowances:
you ate aplenty, drank aplenty, it's time to go,
so that the hasty youth of what's to be drank, ahead,
for the good per se, not ridicule nor ordained itself better)
.

well, i'd put Bukowski with Horace as alike...
maybe that's why i chose Horace, above Virgil, Ovid
or Homer... it's the ******* drinking, the honesty of
drunks... as sober men we're nothing more than lost cabarets...
but i am seriously about the above cited Horace...
no matter what feminism does to women right now,
in the economic realm... equal pay and what not...
women are doubly insulted, a frame of mind from
neglecting reading poetry, where poetry could have
incubated words into an internal reality of speaking
about femininity and masculinity, we're talking
real, the Ten Plagues & Transgender... the ****'s that about?
that famous citation found in Spinoza's Theological-Political
Treatise, chapter 14 (faith and philosophy), aphorism
no. 12... god and the trumpets and Mt. Sinai...
concerning? the voice of god gave the Israelite audience no
philosophical or mathematical certainty about
the diabolical "certainty" of the Catholic omni-plus
geometric and quizzical knowing of dates and time differences
between Moscow and the Galapagos islands...
well, never mind that reference... i'm frightened that we're
actually hearing the moaning and groaning from Golgotha
just now... when poetry dies... and people take religiously
indoctrinated language without keen interest in poetry... hell spawns...
at the moment it seems the re-establishment of Israel
is working miracles against the Valley of the Shadow of Death
that Europe represents to the Jew's memory...
and in that Koranic reference, Jesus is the Messiah...
what, with a few of our men attempting metaphysical
acrobatics in the genital region? why not?! added to boot
France tickling the guillotine with its tongue.
murari sinha Sep 2010
hereunder is served some poetry pouches full of love,
dear reader, stir them as you like,
if you wish you may crack them to pour into mouth,
you may smear them on your body
or you may sprinkle them on the ground
and then chant the name of god
with love and enjoyment

1.
the simplicity that rolls down
from the body of the sweet-meat
made by my mother

let it brings light
to our radish-red love-story

to hear or to notice
love
does not need
putting an ear on the wall
of the wall-street journal

the bottle could be filled
from the voice

when you go to fill the bottle
you would see that everywhere
the arrangement of picnic is ready

when i want to take part in that feast
my neighbours would drive me towards
the home  

although i’ve spent all my life
running behind the love

2.
who’s won the muddy-battle
was yesterday’s politics

my addiction is actually to cater
the pouch of love
to develop all vitamins
and all bathrooms

people say you don’t love
the claps of the rats

yet i’ll come down
from the branch of a guava-tree
as a wave-of-shopping-mall
to the lake of your love

now i’ll jump out
from this computer screen
to register a kiss
on your lips

don't miss to applaud
by clapping the hands


3.
the heart is half-sunk
in the window

to some extent
in the lipstick too

on the dinner-plate
there is the feelings of the lord

that means
i’ve to be burnt more
i do agree

i would become
the sculpture of khajuraho

this happenings may have been
the right search for love

on either-side of which  
a green is being worked out
by the nostalgic-cycle

whose colour-texture is very much harappa
which has too many geometric-memories

4.
an undertone is speaking
from within the solitude

now i’m in very much
distress

or i’m in love

i don’t know my love is what-for
may be that’s an arrangement only

so easily are those interactions
stitched with words

strenuous or effortless
in flight
initiated
with seclusion

but when in the sinking of the playfulness
i  write the games of the street-charmers


the birds again and again
pierce the archery

thus becoming ashes
through travelling

in time-gaps still
the audacity to compose poems
on you

5.
is it true love
or i do take it granted
that i’m in love

or i do love to think
that i’m loving

and there is
neither any welcome address
nor any opening song
in my love

my experience with heat of fire
and with burning pain
in the flames of water
is nothing less

6.
in course of burning
i look around

the chilly-plant  in the tob
planted in my won-hand
producing green-chillies

oh-** how sweet they are

it is no chilled-body
that has earned
my life or death

no remarkable mark
is endorsed
on the lotus-leaf

now easily some words
can be written
on you

i don’t know whether
those would be at all
some lines of a poem


7
someone falls in loves
someone makes love
love comes to some another

there is the far-off
whispering

at first she constructs me
then destroys rightly

i notice her
for the first time in six weeks  

the love
that writes
in the footnote of the tennis-ball
a desperate struggle for existence

within our skull
there is the love

or the midnight of the orion

the little squirrel asked now
are you in your seventies
or eighties

those houses with the coating of
the sky the air the light-and-shade
provide me with the presentation of
a wig and
a set of artificial teeth
8.
the love
that touches the hand
in drizzling

the love
that gets lost in the brandishing
grasses

would they want to inform
that the flowers don’t have any skyscraper

in the layers of the flesh and blood
of the detergents
as if  a whole human civilisation has been suffering
from suppressed pain

within it with the dry spell of
anger and cough
the time

had there been no feeding from the love
does the human civilisation stagger

9.
do you think those words
or it’s myself

whatever may you say now
i’ll travel within a great death
to die

rather after my demise i may tell
i’ve informed everyone …look

beneath the large evergreen flower tree
the game of light and shadow continues

beside those simple households
besides a high-head mobile-tower
what else would you like to be

is it a bath in the ganga-river is it a leaf
of the water-lily or it’s a king-cobra  
tell me

i would now make love
with that idea from you

10.
the  apparent golden *** that i thought
to be the underneath of a kadam-tree

in the dim light i can notice that
the stars in the sky are disappearing  

this session of poetry
is coming to an end

now where would i
go

to that little home

the home
a tiny word of 4 letters

within that home
the children are giggling
playing … and making funs

when i entered
with a tri-cycle in hand
for them

i have been perplexed
many old persons are waiting there
to shake hands with me

10.
almost most of my desires  
are very much hurt

to show it publicly
i wrap bandages
around all over my body

i keep on the stage-drama  

in our programme of reading poetry
tea is served twice
current has gone off for three times
for four times the mobiles ring

to pick up love  
some people think about returning back
from today’s dais to the ancient stage
of performing folk-drama

then they are also sympathetic
to my sufferings

12.
everyday
on my way to return home from the school
when my mom took hold of my hands

i could see in my body
the dancing of an unforgettable
aura

even now that mystical halo is walking
on the leaves of the trees
to fulfil my mornings

that wayfaring along the road
is ringing far and far-off

thus taking bath in every day’s  
dust smoke hue and cry

many such love
gradually gets aged

is it true
in the long run
i too
would be the ingredient
of a fairy-tale

just because i love
that paddy field

some time later
she will also become
human

13.
then she will make all of us  
join her walking

those inmost feeling
those memories meditations

the loneliness  and solitude…

sans the touch of the imagination of
a crater…
a creator…

this blunder…
this socially outcast white …

this type of uneven…
and irrelevance…

sume words
when peep in the mind
i surprise to see that
it’s ten to 2 at night

then in the balcony
my father is crying

he always notices some grave-yard men
in front of him

and sheds tears  

14.
after the dry leaves of the winter
fall in innumerable drops
the spring comes

the cover-face of spring means
a note-book of the rain-tree
letting float in the sun-water

and mr harry says that
this question of change
is a major pull

because all the unreal talks
you are delivering one by one

to keep pace with it
the ambulance comes at 10am
with a stale dead-body

in it’s shirt
is written the spelling of myself

i then sat on the grey volume
of the college-campus

in the front
a beggar from the war of waterloo
is passing by

over the dust of myself
with a faster pace
blowing is the thoughts of

ataraxia  
in the air… and air… and air…
    

15.

if your wishes colour silver
then do return back to the x-mass dancing
of the autumn

sound of whose far-off hoof-steps
digging so much soil of
story-weeds

i went into the nail-polish
with the proof of tea-cup
in my hand

there in the midst of lot of snow-flakes
and in the bed soft with the light of the candle
is now that honey-name more tarnished

now the atomic-howling
does not follow the rules of nature

so the rain-tree that seeks a-field-more-sky
with the hope to become king after the sun-rise

so that king is now waiting
in the grocer’s shop
at a stretch  for an hour

16.
does her well-wisher esse then thinks
to escape from the love-making whirl-wind

on the dry branches of the axis power
the new generation of the birds

rather stop a while there silently and listen
which song is hidden in the bronze-buddha

or in the school of the terracotta-horse

i’m now opening the coating
of the night-enamel to read this home

and behind the coo of dove
is smiling

the god of the penalty-kick

17.
sitting on an orange-coloured balcony
in an outsider lane
the green is writing poems
  
better than the face-powder

from this side all long the famine
i’m the priest of the
agro-based civilisation

still-then i think
why so much light of partiality
is on the body of the chrysanthemum

within the monsoon
in collusion with the  hair-band
now thousands of birds are born  

they can hear my
dry straws and twigs

whose hearing is the police
in so depth of the forest

don’t move the
dreadful resorts

one such photograph of the girls
who wakes up in the midnight

speechless…
unmindful …
destruction…

that is you now

i’m then in the spore
of the perfume-bounded body
of match-making

18.

who has lied in the box
made up of the temperature
of god

all on a sudden
there is a hue and cry
in the abdomen of the time
wearing a ***** pajama

actually that has been filtered up
from the voices of rock-songs

the roaming
of a fatigued traveller …

the lies
within their wishes
write my existence

and then run
to buy vegetables
from the station-market

so many lay-offs
come to the body of paper-weight

to listen to all those
is not improper

walking through the traffic-jam
gradually
this home becomes solely my home

one day the golden of
human

then it is i
who is you

and walking through the
monsoon

on either side of the field
it is all autumn

19.
when borrowing the religion of
the night-queen  
i fall in love

then is it real
that our mangos and jack-fruits  
can make the perfumed-soap
vigorously from the light of the
blood-line

i count the bells of the churches
ringing repeatedly

and piercing the image
of your prominent face

rounding through lots of old
the love becomes exhausted

and the love comes back
in the form of college-classes

there are you myself
and so many notes
of the body
Sharina Saad Jun 2013
My mobile screams
Its Taylor Swift " I wished it was me"
Wake up folks its 6 am
Let's face another hectic day
Another day of terror and challenge
Unlike the good old days
when life was even simpler
when mobiles were  not a necessity
but communication still exists
in close knit families
Life was even greater
When smartphones and computers
were gadgets of the future
Still relationships went on smooth and happier
Life was even lovelier
when Apples and Blackberries
were merely fruits
for juices and desserts.
but still we need to strive
to face another day
in this concrete jungle
and adapt our life....
Tony Luxton Sep 2015
Walking along the narrow track,
parents shepherding ice cream kids,
making way for pushchairs, making waves.
The lakeside watch on ducks and swans.
The nodding smiles and genteel grins,
like a 50's Sunday promenade,
while walking sticks wait by benches
dreams die when mobiles chime.
Poetic T Oct 2020
She was so, what's the word I'm looking for?
  not *****, some would say submissive.
There is no way she was that, more *******.
But she never let it show, she'd have a way of
controlling the situation to make you think you
        were in charge...

How could I explain it? more like your in a desert,
         thirsty and see a fountain in the distance.
Running towards it your strength disperses,
  and you believe what you see even though your
            swallowing the passing of time.

Even as you choke, you still believe you've
quenched your, I mean her thirst.
          If she was poker, she'd have the winning
hand every time...

So back to the moment at hand, she was so dam
         rough, I had scratches that looked like I'd
had a sleepover at Elm Street.
I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it...
I liked it when she made me trickle.


That itch while at work, as my back
was healing, it turned me on knowing
that she still lingered even though we
weren't near.
       She had this suffocation issue,
but it was kinker than just naked...
        

It was in a summer dress,
                    and only in the summer.
Like she was seasonal?
I'd lift her dress up. she was pantiless.
           But before that, my hands were even
within her thighs, she was damper than
the grand canyon dry around the edges,
       but between she flowed...

There was no finesse it was all or nothing,
     no gentle hands, deep and hard were her ways.
She knew what she liked. But like a drug,
Its strength diminishes over time,
and the thrill was now near non-existent.  
And a frustrated woman isn't one to be trifled with.

So we got others involved, ones that had
the same suffocating view on life.
Constricted on the normality of ***.
The first one, ***. It was embarrassing.
  We'd guest they were more inquisitive
         than had done it before.

We'd had them sign a waiver on the obligation
of what it entailed. A few drinks later,
Ok, more than a few and it was a melting ***
         of flesh, we were all over each other.
      She strangled my other half one-handed
constricting her flow of air, the other fingers
in her mouth being ****** erotically.

I'd never thought of how ****** this would be,
it didn't matter that it was a woman,
the fact she was arching so much.
All because of another stifling her breath.
                    I had my fun though I was deep
in the other,  **** deep as she didn't want to
be penetrated in her flower, she likes her petals clean??
   My other half could see me over the other'ss shoulder.

Enjoying the fact of both woman were in my bed,
              I was getting close, and then it changed.
She saw that I was about to pleasured by another.
Her hands clasped around our new acquaintance.
For such a petite figure she had a grasp like a clamp.

I felt her clench around my external offering,
           and the smile off my other, it was suffocatingly  
pleasurable. All three of us slumped at the same time.
The bedsheet was drizzly with the fulfillment
  of all three of us. I'd never experienced such a
moment, it was unexplainably fulfilling.

We rested for a moment, and then as I pulled myself
from this sweaty gathering, I needed to ***.
I know wow how romantic, But you open a valve,
waters going to pour eventually.
   Walking back to the bed all smiles.
     She looked at me with fear, but with a hint of
excitement.
                    
"She's dead,

                            "What dead tired?

  "No you ****-wit, as in you just pleasured
yourself up a corpse you necrophilic *****...

I laughed, as I jumped into bed thinking she
was hoaxing me. But she wasn't moving.
  Holy crap that was an ****** to die for??
  She looked at me sheepishly, no not really I got
kind of confused, she was strangling me and i
was so turned on.

But then I saw you about to lift off, and I didn't
like the fact that it was in another and not me.
So I tightened my grip, I heard her throat crunch
under the pressure, and she came,
either in exhilaration or that she'd just died...
Is it wrong that it was a multiple's!!

I've had doubles with you but that,
                                               I'm still twitching.
Oh' not to the fact that there was a dead blonde
in our bed. But the fact she had a multiple with a dead
woman on top. I brushed that thought away as we
had more concerning things,

I said to her,

"Do we phone the police,
             she signed the waiver?

"Do we phone the police!

  She said in a sarcastic manner raising her brow,
  
I could never do that dam thing, she was like
a **** trekky when she did that Mmm..
        I'd live long and **** the **** out her in
that cosplay outfit, pity I broke the ears last time.

Crap, I'm getting distracted.

I  could see where she was ******* from,
       why the hell does the dead woman have
***** *******,  whoops my toothpick just
became a great redwood again.

Are you getting stiff off seeing a dead woman's
******* you freak? They are kind of just there,
As she lent across and licked them.
         Oh, there cold, she looked at me
in her I'm ***** look.  We shouldn't waste an
opportunity really, as she opened her legs
and maneuvered her so she could scissor her.

What you waiting for, put your piece in her gob,
her mouth cold against it, but moist enough
that I face ****** her till we both got close
            kissing each other and ******* at the same
time, wow that was intense,
                                        we both sheepishly smiled.

We both got in the shower, the bed damp still from
                  when all three were breathing but her
head slumped to the side and you could see it dripping
out her mouth as if she was sleeping and  drooling
                       on the pillow.. that's gross.

After we were all cleaned up, we had to decide
what to do, the police wasn't an option.
   We'd watched enough dexters to know that
cutting her up was going to be way too messy..
And last time I got a paper cut I fainted.

Grabbing some cling film out the cupboard I started
To wrap her up, beforehand we went to the store
and brought 15 liters of bleach. I used a kitchen
a utensil  with a short straw-like funnel and proceed
to bleach the inside of her ****.. and gave here a detol
mouth wash, we put the rest in the bath and put
her in there, she hadn't started decomposing and
rigor mortis wasn't overly making her stiff like a plank
so she easily sank to the bottom.

After lunch we let the water out, god she looked clean.
But her eyes had become white, like ghost white
staring at me, like she'd known what we did to her.
I tried closing her eyelids but they wouldn't shut,
so I used a permanent marker to color them in..
   What was I thinking, now she looks ****** possessed.
Drying off was like a ritual we were gentle and making
sure her hair was brushed nicely.


Then with the 6 boxes of cling film, we wrapped
her up nice and tightly.
Crossing her arms over her chest seemed like
a nice thing to do. You never realize when
someone says dead weight, just how heavy that is.
We did that nursery rhyme as we threw her in the boot,

A leg and a wing to see the king and yeet...
    I gave her a 7.5 for landing. As we drove off
we took the map out, using sat-nav was a no, no
as we could have our steps traced back.
   There was an old coal mine just twenty minutes
away, what was cool was that there was an opening
that was so deep but not many knew about it.

I know how convenient is that. We parked up and
we knew we'd have to be quick so I slung her over
my shoulder, walking along I got really damp?

"Babe, what the hell is going on?
                     "Is she peeing on me?

I started to gag, but then the bleach smell hit!
       Phew! she was leaking bleach all over my jeans.
Thank **** for that, I knew these were going
to be burnt later anyway and had a spare pair in
the boot just in case. What I come prepared.

As we got to the opening a couple was standing there
throwing a rolled-up rug down the hole?
we both just looked at each other, what's up?
                              Nothing
What's up with you?
                     Nothing!
We just smiled and dropped our cling film roll
down the same hole. they pulled a knife we pulled
a baseball bat out.

Look, we know what we've both done,
   and if we walk away now you, we,
well neither of us will get hurt or have to throw the
others down that hole. How about the saying.
You didn't see it, so it didn't happen,?

They walked off, we walked off calmly.
That went a lot better than I thought as I laughed.
But just as we got to the car we heard a twig snap
right behind us, out of instinct I swung hard
catching him square in the temple.
as he fell he landing on his accomplice.
She was screaming Oh'my god help me..

My other half leaned over her, foot on her wrist
pulling the knife out her hand.. What were you
going to do with this then.

            "*******, she yelled.

No how about I mouth *******,
and with that, she raised the knife up
and shoved it into the hilt of her mouth.
God, i love this woman.
   As she lay there gurgling..
I mean the noise was nasty..
  So she just trod on her throat and silence.

We looked at each other, and started kissing,
    and before you knew it we had steamy windows
handprints visible to what had perspired in here.
As we got redressed and the tension now reduced
we dragged these two both to the hole.
I mean  my girl just grabbed his feet and like
luggage threw him in. She's so awesome.

You do realize we got from accidental murders
to nearly serial killers now.
And you know what it was such a turn on.
     I must admit we were both turned on by death.
We found their car and drove both down the country
lanes making sure that cameras were nowhere near.
We burnt it out, but not before doing donuts in a field
to make it look like joyriders had stolen it..

After that, we had plenty more lovers, false addresses
to entice, and snare our next lover into false security.
We got tech-savvy as well, in the car we had a scrambler
that blocked their mobiles. most didn't even notice
they lost signal, some did and were over-cautious
                   If they didn't come then unlucky them.

But we remembered that everything was to happen
in the bedroom. Gosh that coal mine is now a mosh pit
of broken voices, that crunch just as we orgasmed.
  That never got old, as everyone was different some
***, others ****** them selfs, that was new and gross.
But luckily we had mattress protectors on and plenty
more in the cupboard. To date, we must have made
love and silenced at least 12 over the last few years.

Only in the summer though,
  and the dresses, god she looks so hot...

Got to go through as our new friend
just turned up in guess what in a summer dress
of all things.
           We just looked at each other and smiled.
Ashwin Kumar Aug 2019
In the name of democracy
An entire state is terrorized
Decade after decade
Freedoms are curbed
Protests are brutally suppressed
People are brutally oppressed
Education is diluted

In the name of democracy
The Army turns from protector to oppressor
Every soldier marching past
With his head held high
Sounds the death knell
For every man, woman and child
In the name of democracy
Soldiers break into houses
Wielding their massive rifles
As if it is their birthright
As the peace and harmony within
Is replaced by abject terror
In the name of democracy
All morals are flung out of the window
As the women are *****
The men who challenge this unspeakable atrocity
Are swiftly silenced with bullets
As the children begin screaming in terror
They are molested, one by one
Until the trauma overcomes them
Such that, they lose their voices
They lose their minds
They lose their hearts
Meanwhile, the soldiers slip away quietly
Having completed a good day of work
In the name of democracy

In the name of democracy
India and Pakistan, warring for decades
Use Kashmir as a bait
As a means to satisfy
Their unquenchable thirst for power
As the potion simmers on
Fuelled by hate on both sides
Curfews and lockdowns follow with alarming regularity
Schools and colleges are shut down
Political organizations are banned
The Internet is crippled
Mobiles and landlines are killed
Even the most feeble of all protests
Is brutally quelled with bullets and grenades

In the name of democracy
Consent is dead and buried
As nationalism takes centre stage
The world watches on silently
Allowing India, the oppressors-in-chief
To reclaim the moral high ground
And suddenly proclaim themselves as saviours
Leaving the beleaguered Kashmiris no choice
But to bow to their captors
Their dreams of self-determination
Shattered ruthlessly in the course of a mad, mad day
In the name of democracy
The shocking events of today forced me to rant in the form of this poem about Kashmir.  Patriotic, nationalistic Indians reading this may be tempted to troll me; but keep in mind, if you are silent on the atrocities of the Indian state and the army; you shouldn't complain if I block you - after all, humanity is above nationalism.
Paul Hardwick Sep 2012
today i brought a mobile
so i can talk with the world
just like you
but not knowing what it might do
taking my call while the microwaves
burn a hole in my head frying my brains
just so you can tell me you are on the train
and i a coming home to you
thank you for your call.
Big Virge May 2019
You Know ... ?  
I Need To Pick ... Bones ...  
In These ... ****** ...  

... "Comfort Zones" ... !!! ...  

Do You Think Yours ... ?  
Will SAVE You ... ? ...  
  
If You're ...  
... ON YOUR OWN ... !!?!!  
  
How Can This Place ?  
.... " Save You  " .... !?!?!  
From ... NEW Al Capones ... ?!?  
  
Or ...  
  
Save You From THOSE ...  
Who ... DON'T Want To Atone ...  
For ... Problems They've Made ...  
Like Our Lack of ... "OZONE" ...  
  
This AIN'T ... " Charlie Brown !?! "  
  
..............." Linus .............  
Leave Your Towel HOME ... !!! "  
  
Folks .....  
What Will You Do ... ?  
If Your ...  
  
Comfort Zone ...  BLOWS ... !!!!!  
  
... " UP IN YOUR FACE " ... !?!  
  
Just Like Farmyard Hay ...  
On A ... COLD Breezy Day ... !!!  
  
Or ... Youthful Aggression ...  
Ends Up In ... " Your Plate " ... !???!  
  
Let's Keep It REAL ...  
... In Fact ...  
Let's Keep It ... TRUE ... !!!!!  
  
cos' TRUTH In The End ....  
Will DEFINE ...  
  
What is ... " YOU " ... !?!  
  
A ... " Comfort Zone FOOL " ... !!?!!  
  
Or A .... WISE MAN ....
Who's ... " SCHOOLED " ... !!!  
  
Schooled In ... What's FACTUAL ...  
and SCHOOLED In The TRUTH ... !!!!!
  
TRUTH As In ... NATURE ...  
NOT ... Technological Tools ... !!!  
  
Like ...  
Mobiles For ... Children ...  
They're Being ... "MISUSED" ... !!!  
  
These Words Aren't Just ...  
....... "My Views" ...... !!!!!  
  
These Words ARE ...  
... THE TRUTH ... !!!!!!!!
  
Mobiles ... Are Now Used ...  
By ... IGNORANT Youth ...  
To Film ... VIOLENT Actions ... !?!  
  
Just ...
Check In The News ... !!!  
  
Don't Get It Confused ... !!!!!  
You CANNOT Trust Everything ...  
In ... News Reviews ... !!!!!  
  
But DON'T ... overlook ...  
These Types of Issues ... !!!!!
  
Can A ... "Comfort Zone"... ?  
......... " Save You " ........... ?!?  
From ... Youthful Abuse ... ?  
  
Ignore ..................................  
  
If You ... Choose ... !?!  
But ... DON'T Ever Say ...  
You ... Weren't Given Clues ... !!!!!!
  
On How To ....... AVOID .......  
A Case of ... " Muddy's Blues " ...  
  
Water Is NATURAL ...  
Rivers ... Run DEEP ...  
  
But ...  
  
This Is MY VIEW ... !!!  
  
"COMFORT ZONES" ...  
  
You Can ... KEEP ... !!!!!  
  
They Are ...  
For The  ... WEAK ... !!!
  
Who Think They ...  
Can't Weep ... ???!???  
  
I've ...
WEPT For ... " My Mother " ... !!!  
Now She's ... SAFE In Sleep ... !!!
  
You SEE ...  
My Mother Was Sick ...  
For ... Most of My Youth ...  
Which Is Why I'm ... So Able ...  
To Deal With ....... The TRUTH ....... !!!!!
  
SIXTEEN ... Odd Years ... !!!!!  
  
I Feared Shedding Tears ...  
But Now That I'm OLDER ...  
I've Dealt With ... My Fears ... !!!
  
How Many of ... YOU ... ?????  
Would Prefer Some ... New Shoes ...  
  
Rather Than ...  
Have To ... DEAL With ...  
The Things I've Been Through ... ?!?  
  
SEEING ... Your Mother ...  
DISTRESSED By ... Her Lover ... ?!?  
  
Who RAN ... "undercover" ... !?!  
cos' He ... NEVER LOVED HER ... !!!!!  
  
His ACT Was ...  " A BLUNDER " ...  
He ... CAN'T Now RECOVER ... !!!!!!!!
  
Cos' ... Anger I HOLD ...
Now Rumbles Like ...  
  
... " THUNDER " ... !!!!!!  
    
He's In His ... "COMFORT ZONE" ...  
While Your ... Mobile Phone ROAMS ..............................................................  
  
I Don't Have ... Comfort Zones ...  
or A ... " Million Pound Home " ... !!!!!  
  
I'd Rather Be ... "HAPPY" ... !!!!!  
and ... NOT Have To MOAN ....  
  
About ... Tax For My Car ...  
Or The ... "CONGESTION CHARGE" ... !!!!!  
  
I'm Trying To ... MAKE IT ...  
and SHINE Like A ... " STAR " ... !!!!!  
  
Who ...
DOESN'T Just Say  ... " The Same " ...  
  
.... " BLAH DI BLAH BLAH " .... !!!!!  
  
Did You Laugh ... ???  
... " Ha Ha Ha " ... !!!!  
  
But Life ... ISN'T FUNNY ... !!!!  
  
Life's Moving TOO FAST ... !!!  
TOO MANY ... Gun Blasts ... !!!!!  
  
With ...  
  
NO MORE ... " JOHN SHAFTS " ... !!!  
  
TOO MANY ... EMPIRES .... !!!!! ....  
With ... " VADERS For HIRE " .... !!!!!  
  
TOO MANY ... MP'S ... !!!!  
Who ... NEED TO RETIRE ... !!!!  
  
Too Many of US ... !!!  
With ... "Lustful Desires" ... !!!!  
  
Can You ... FEEL MY FIRE ... !?!  
It's ... Making Me TIRED ... !!!  
  
I'm ...  
TIRED of ... TRYING ....  
  
When ....  
So MANY ...  KEEP LYING ... !!!!!!  
  
LYING ... To THEMSELVES ... ???!???  
About Their .... "MENTAL HEALTH" .... !!!  
Because of ... " THEIR WEALTH " ... !!!?!!!  
  
MONEY Is ..... "Paper" ..... !!!  
It's NOT A ... Life Saver ... !!!!  
  
I'm The ... " BLACK " ...  
.... " CAPED CRUSADER " .... !!!!!
  
So ....  
Do Me A FAVOUR.... !!!  
  
REMEMBER THESE WORDS .... !!!  
  
God Is ... YOUR MAKER ...  
But If You're ... NOT CAREFUL ... !!!  
  
He May Be ...  
  
" YOUR BREAKER " ... !!!  
  
Read ... IN BETWEEN Lines ...  
STOP TAKING ... "Coc' Lines" ... !!!!!  
  
Try ...  
Talking With A ... Coc' Head ... ?!?  
  
They're ... " OUT OF THEIR MINDS " ... !!!!!  
  
REPEATING Themselves ...
Pretty Much ... ALL THE TIME ... !!!!!  
  
Now ...  
In These ... LAST LINES ...  
Are Words For ... "The BLIND" ... !!!  
  
OPEN ... Your Eyes ...  
and Then You'll ... REALISE ...  
  
You're NOT ALONE .... !?!
We ALL Have To ... " LIVE HERE " ...  
  
Earth Is ... "OUR HOME" .... !!!!!  
  
DON'T ... EVER Presume ...  
You DESERVE ... What You Own ... !!!!!  
and DON'T ... EVER THINK ... !!!!  
  
You DESERVE ...  
Your Own ... " THRONE " ... !!!  
  
cos' ...  
Those Who Live ... Like THAT ...  
Are DOGS ... WITHOUT Bones ... ?!?  
  
and THESE ARE ...  
The ... " FOOLS " ...  
  
Who ... Live In ...  
  
.... "COMFORT ZONES" .... !!!!
Words for the wise...
It can be ...

A Dangerous place to trap yourself in ...
Ryan Holden Jul 2017
Currently we judge,
Looking at angles to win
Just to please your own mind.

We throw insults and we fight,
We ignite fuel to our fingers
Tapping away like it's a race for popularity.

The world spins and spins,
Yet nothing really changes
Because we just keep spinning.

But it's as if we have weaved
Ourselves into a ditch of
Despairing linear paths.

As we watch, we listen, we observe
And try to become something else,
Something we're not supposed to be.

Just to let everyone know
That you watch the same things,
That you do the same things.

But then after it all we realise
As we grow older and as we mature,
We merely did nothing for ourselves.

We just followed the same road,
We followed the same destiny
And we lose ourselves in our journey.

At the end of it all we start to notice
We have taken the wrong path,
And the other roads are too far away.

So we turn into the side-roads,
Which lead to nothing but plagued floors
Broken doors and empty souls.

Mobiles have taken love out of ***,
Generations have missed out
How it feels to actually be connected.

You make love and your phone rings,
People stop to answer like your moments
Aren't precious enough with loved ones.

We eat meals at restaurants
With our families and friends,
All I see is arched necks and fiery fingers.

I wish I was in a time when we spoke
To one another about our days,
Not about a video that has gone viral.

I wish that as I grow and my children
Will walk amongst the earth I have,
It won't **** them into inevitable fates.

I don't want them to be another
White sheep hopping the same fence,
Like the rest of this miserable world.

Systems have taken individualism
Out of individuals and get labelled weird,
They give us titles like "OCD, ADHD".

I'm not either, and I don't actually have
A label to my name, yet I feel I should
I feel why shouldn't I?

After all I like to think different,
I like to think one day we will see
The clear glass in front of us.

But most of all, I truly hope one day,
We can become a better world
Instead of repetition in characters.
Just some quick thoughts I had on my brain. But this type of thing doesn't get spoken about enough. This may "offend" some, but I only speak in truths. My heart can only love so much until it gets stretched beyond its limit.
Joe Wilson Nov 2014
He took his lass to the local flicks
By heck he was so very eager
But when his hand slipped down her back
She said, “I smell Swarfega.”



Not so easily discouraged
He went and scrubbed his hands
But when he got back to try again
She’d gone, and thwarted his plans.



They didn't have mobiles in those days
Further contact there couldn’t have been
So he went to the pub and stood with his mates
And bragged about the heaven he’d seen.



The tales those young men told…





©Joe Wilson – Bragging rights, 1950’s style…2014
(For those who may not know, Swarfega was invented in 1947
by Audley Bowdler Williamson, and is a hand-cleaning product
originally invented to prolong the life of silk stockings.
It found far more use in garages than it ever did in lady’s boudoirs)
Savio Apr 2013
The library is too quiet to read
too contemplate her clothed *******
the wooden chairs are thick with boredom
the boys stare at words that hide themselves
and the women are brave enough to still search for love
I can't hear a thing
A Toilet flushes
The loud thin aluminum and molar teeth Air Conditioner rattles like a starving stomach
I can hear pages being changed
Chairs slowly creaking
The chairs are considering suicide
They'll jump right out this window
Outside the construction workers are smoking
Outside a girl with a pumpkin colored sweater talks to a boy
Outside The Mobiles await their masters
Outside a single orange cone is placed next to an eight foot black light pole
And I stare at it
More interesting than the girl in a pumpkin colored sweater
more sound than the Library's hallways and book isles
More ****** and ****
More cigarette smoke
More sweat
Louder than a thousand heart beats drumming to the Tribal tune of life
**** with out feet dancing on hot coals and slaughtering a Cow for rain
The Cone waits
its plastic thick
bending in like the gut of an exiled starving Tribal member
The light pole Waits too
it avoids eye contact with the people that pass by
it makes small talk to the wandering insects looking for a junk lit fix
“Not for awhile, not for a while.”
The LampPole would say
and the insect would fly away on all of its wings
and hide in the trash can
or the muffler of a Camaro

Outside the trees are waiting
waiting for Mother Kansas Common Bird
For a nest
For an egg
For now the trees are bare
stripped like P.O.W
barley blooming

I wonder how those buds taste like

I see the Cone
still orange
still waiting for me to say
“Cone, I know you. I see that you wait.”
and perhaps this is what he was waiting for
Then the eight foot LampPole droops like lovely Egyptian ***** eyelashes

Outside
Outside
Outside
the Sun is open for business
Sun dresses
and
sun glasses
Waiting
Waiting
Waiting for boy
career
house
baby boy
******
love
ultimate Zen
but Career but House but Baby Boy Anthony oh so sweet but ****** but Love
gets in the way
and the Ultimate Zen is recollected as Silly as Childish as Unattainable
saying to herself
“Life has its plan”

But it doesnt
Zen still waits
Orange Construction Cone still waits
Eight Foot LampPole waits

Inside Inside Inside
Toilets are flushes
Books develop Mold like pregnancies
Inside *** dances in the mind with every passing Legs *** and *******
Inside carpets groan
inside dandruff
inside Clocks endlessly fueled by a battery
inside outside being stared at like the Ocean
and a boat with the Ultimate answer is on it
Inside nothing happens at all
Inside the Books are wondering where have their stomachs gone
Inside Legs and feet go numb
Inside Dry mouths smack
Inside lesbian couples kiss
Inside the florescent Lights shine without stop

I am inside
looking through the window
admiring the smooth **** chaotic curves and heights and birds of outside

-A woman in a pink sweater
-A man in a blue suit
Salmabanu Hatim Sep 2018
I was tired of the routine,
In fact exhausted,
"Dinner is ready."
No response,
"DINNER IS READY".
Coming!
No one at the table.
The T.V. is on full blast,
There is an interesting match,
Somebody is on the mobile,
Kids on the PlayStation,
My pretty daughter on the internet with her boyfriend.
So I disconnected the WIFI,
Unplugged the T.V.,
Hid the mobiles and playstation.
Everybody was at the table,
Eating, talking and laughing as a family.
From then on Rule Number One:
No T.V., mobile, computer or PlayStation during breakfast, lunch and dinner.
I have my family with me.
dania May 2013
horror stories muffled by pillow forts and blankets that stretch across the
vast of my beloved
room.

in hiding--
your young skin
    is shielded
  by a lonely
shadow dancing
with sunlight.

the room's symphony plays on as
a crescendo of
soft laughter
and light footsteps
cues in.

magazines     sprawled on
the carpeted-floor
jennifers & ashleys
glamorously sporting
shiny hair.

away messages
are synonymous
to x's and hearts
bordering
your
besties' names.

and these are the best
years of your life
but it just feels like dirt
to your name
being young
gets old.

mobiles in purses
strapped to your chest
"I HEART NY" keychains
dangling by the locket
that frames your blurry
picture of
him.

you feel so important
surrounded by friends
and people who
shower you with
lots of
cheap love.

you don't care
about what you don't know
and it's easy
living
when all you're living
is the lie of happiness.
teenage distress
The chinwag,carpetbag of nagging mobile phones with tones that make me want to puke,take a look they make me sick,pick a number any number betya someone dumber picks another,brother canya spare a dime,buy me tea I got no time to talk with you and that's what mobiles always do,
take and take put on the brake before we're took,well, *** and that is texty awful **** if you're made that way, say what you think and think no more,a mobile's just another *****,
I swore I wouldn't buy one,try one get one free but the ****** is,
mobiles are me.
At times, I just watch people
Like now - I see a pregnant woman
I think, what she must be thinking
Maybe - ' whether it's a boy or a girl'.

Crossing the Christmas Tree
I see an old man talking to his wife
In so many years of togetherness -
he still finds her benign.

As I sip my red velvet latte
My eyes fall on a couple
Both are sharing the same table -
yet conversing through their mobiles.

Eavesdropping upon the conversation
A daughter tells to her father
The best new year gift for her -
if he stops smoking forever!

I stop looking around for a while
And I close my eyes to realise
There is a world inside me -
that the adversity just hypnotized!
My observations when I was on a break from work and wrting. So many things around me to be observed and captured in words. Happy New Year 2017!
Saoirse Sep 2012
There are two marionettes
Facing one another
Parts strung together
And dangling
Like mobiles over a crib.

The first has a head
And a neck
It has shoulders
Strung to fore-arms
Wrists and hands
It has the swell of hips and thighs
But only ever under fabric
It has a face
But no jaw
And only an upper lip
And no forehead.

The second marionette
Grotesque, and barely human
Has two small *******
Clinging to a sternum
Like sad droplets of water
A ribcage spanning
Like thin fingers
Across a chest
A bulbous young stomach
Hips and thighs unclothed, unappealing
Dappled flesh
Calves
Feet
Jaw
Forehead
Balanced precariously atop one another
Joined with a string.

When they step to one another
The marionettes mesh
Make a mess
And cannot escape one another
And move awkwardly
Haphazardly
Trying to conceal the Other
Trying to conceal the whole
Hoping only the string shows.

But the string is tangled
In the parts
Caught between the joints
Obscured by the puppet limbs.

Occasionally, a glimpse.
Last night I saw a man hanging from a traffic light
just for a second

Framed in the yellow light of dusk,
it looked like a movie cover.
He was flopped over like a dead fish
his feet were just a little too large
and I tugged at my beau's sleeve to ask if he was there when
the world turned
and just like that,
he was gone.

If impermanence is a virtue,
life must be something worth having
and a legacy that can be dashed away
should be no scary thing and while
I am not really willing
to try and follow
that advice
it is a small thing I think on
when the hangmen grin and whisk away
on their strings
baby mobiles
turning towards oblivion
ShamusDeyo Feb 2015
Snow, Soft White and Lovely......
The thing of Childhood imagination
Wind Curling it to Drifts and Excitation
Snow Dancing in a Twirling Ballet
Items covered where ever they lay
It covers the grime and Looks so clean
Yet as deadly as a bullet and twice as Mean...
The Halloween blizzard, we got 3 Feet of snow
A Man in his truck that ended up stuck
He chose to walk it to find Some Gas
You soon find when your snow blind
There is no direction or destination to find
Where they found his truck They Searched
Snow Mobiles on the fields  Searched Avast
Not till Easter Snow melt he was found at Last
10 feet from his truck, well they didn't Know
He was Buried under Snow Plow Furrow.....JMF 2/3/15
Another tale of Minnesota

All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
Paul Hansford Apr 2016
I didn't take a photograph of the statue of Robert Burns.
His sightless eyes were looking out over Dunedin,
the most Scottish town in the southern hemisphere,
and there was a seagull, not a pigeon, standing on his head.
I would have called it "Robbie Burns and Friend."

And I didn't take a picture of the bus shelter
painted all over with jungle foliage and a tiger
peeping out over the simulated signature of Henri Rousseau.
The title would have been "This Bus Shelter is a Forgery."

Neither did I photograph another painted wall,
one round a cemetery full of ornate and sombre tombs,
with a large and skilfully executed advertisement -
Renta Sanitarios Mobiles (Hire Mobile Toilets).
It would have been called "Is there no Respect for the Dead?"

I didn't take the photo of a Fijian policeman.
A pity, for he had such a practical uniform,
very smart and cool,
in a tasteful shade of policeman-blue,
based on the traditional sulu
with a striking zigzag hem.
The title would have been "A Policeman in a Skirt?!"

I couldn't take a photograph of sunset over Popocatépetl
– although the sun was setting in a red and golden haze,
and the most romantically named mountain is just
what you imagine a perfect volcano should be,
even to the wisp of steam at the peak
– because the sun was actually setting over Ixtaccíhuatl
and "Sunset over Ixtaccíhuatl" doesn't have quite the right ring
The shape of the mountain is not very picturesque either.
Yes, I would have called that one "Sunset over Popocatépetl"
– if I could have taken it.

My camera wouldn't focus on the crescent moon
hanging over the Egyptian skyline,
horns pointing up, so close to the Equator,
and the evening star (Venus or some more ancient goddess)
just above and almost between the points.
If that one had worked it would have been called "Islamic Moon."

I couldn't possibly have taken a photograph
that would do any justice to the young piano student
in a Hungarian castle
hammering out Liszt as if the hounds of hell were after her,
but if I could, I would have had to call it "Apassionata."

And I didn't even have time to get my camera out
to take a picture of the wild humming bird
darting green and unconcerned
among dilapidated tenements in the heart of Mexico City.
But that living jewel shines bright in my memory,
even without a photo.
I don't know what I would have called that one,
and I'm sure it doesn't matter.
All of these are things I have seen on my travels and not been able to photograph, for one reason or another.
Paul Butters Aug 2019
I walk to the pub or club,
Talk with folks,
Go play table tennis
Or shop.
But apart from all that chat,
Where do I get my “World View”?

How do I know what’s going on
Outside my little comfort zone?
I could even be another Jim Carrey
In some “Truman Show”,
Being filmed for some TV soap
That I’ve never seen
By Big Brother cameras everywhere;
Feeding off fake news
About the universe outside.

For everything we “know”
Comes from TV
And our mobiles
And PCs.

It could all be as false
As Trump says it is,
If he really exists!!!
Where is the Truth?

Will a No Deal Brexit be a catastrophe
Or a breeze in the park?
Are our “Enemies” really in the wrong?
Is the wider world anything like
It’s painted
On TV???

The con men, and women
Probably have us
In their pockets.
So all we can do
Is be as vigilant
As we can
And hope
That true Reality
Will be detected
At last.

Paul Butters

© PB 19\8\2019.
Reality where are you???
Paul Butters Sep 2018
We watch our mobiles and our tellies,
TV on the internet,
Internet on the TV,
On the mobile.

Our lives are spent
Immersed in soaps
And reality TV.
Hours and hours
Of subsidised sport
And fake news.

Daily quizzes
And Jeremy Kyle
To keep us occupied
And Boredom at bay.

Like zombies we stare at our mobiles
Almost colliding
With people on the street.
Oh yes we chat
And message and text
With folk we’ve never met
Presuming they are real.

We play out time,
Betting and scheming:
Fantasy Leagues
And Facebook,
Snapchat and God knows what.

Occupying our addictive minds
Until the Grim Reaper comes.
“Comfortably numb” until the end.

Paul Butters

8\9\2018.
The World Today.
(20 minute poetry)

Eats a baguette for breakfast and gets crumbs all over her dress,
this underground journey impresses me less the more that I take it.

He's on a major journey through a mini iPad
which is more than I had at his age

there's a bald man turning the page of the Times, it must be the early edition, a bit late though because the  ticket inspectors get on at Bethnal Green and he's taken off

and the old girl with the persistent cough spluttering, spluttering, I gave up complaining at Liverpool street leaving the others to mutter under their breath about pine boxes and death.

Some will change here for the DLR which is an acronym, it's also a light railway but I couldn't bear the weight  of it, had to rest and sit a bit, getting on in years see.

It will **** me in the end and in the end we all go underground I'm just practising,
news just in
due to a fire alert at Holborn Station
London will be closed for today
hurrah
I think that's what the announcer said or maybe just wishful thinking going on in my head.

Nearly there
glad I had chance to share with you the tube with no view except for what you see which are
crumbs all over the floor.
The setting Sun  in the horizon yet
slowly readying to dip in deep waters
crimson sky with wonderful hallow
birds flying  fast to their abodes
Young boys and girls splashing  water  
Playing throw ball and jumping
and  tucking under high waves  
some swimming in the murky sea,
their loud laughter filling the beach
with joyful  abandonment.

Grand parents driving in  horse carts
youngsters riding fast on horse backs
Camels with  small families on their mounts
Guided by their owners with a whip in hand  
small children building sand castles  
parents overlooking  their activities
and clicking photos  in mobiles
yes,  a Sunday evening to beat the heat
I sat guarding the baggage of my family
Watching all the fun, enjoying  the sea breeze,
with  peanuts in hand, waiting for them  to return.

Suddenly there were shrieks of  people
Children  running  around  and
people  rushing to gather them
calling out their dear ones.
when rain drops fell on my head and face
soaking wet  my shoulders with chillness  
I realized what’s the commotion is all about.

The beach wore a special look all of a sudden  
with a veil of pouring rain …
The fading sunset painted the crimson horizon
With patches of dark clouds decorating the sky
Like ******* beads dangling with pearldrops  
jingling the arena with sounds of joyous music
The sudden downpour filled the air with
Innumerable smell s- stench of fish water
Scents from the crowd, smell from eatable shops
Stink of horse, camel dung, dog **** and trash!

I gathered the baggage trying to protect them
within my arms and covering with  my dress  
running towards a nearby shelter at a shop
turning to see if any one rushed to help me
But the first rain drops mesmerizing them
they forgot me  and their belongings
Dancing and hugging in the first rain,
They were in a joyful world of laughter!

there is principle, there is mad luck on the streets
 but then again, i have neither one.
i assume the idleness of poles underneath the roof of a cafe in Poblacion
   and wonder where all my poems go,
 the value they impose -- only there's implosion   and not   so much sense
    so i go out to seek tenderly in the night,
 a cheap moon trapped underneath the bottle   of a pilsner
   as i hear one  of   the patrons call out
  my solitude like a ******* on all fours;

one afternoon pursues a following.
  i have wasted my time writing and stopping
 to   watch   stray hounds   pant   and
     ****    on the hot asphalt of Plaridel.
the   papers   retch  at tyrannies.
    hands   for  mechanisms  configured to
  a heady bias of  probabilities.
 the   house   next  to me is  being
     overhauled   and i  imagine  the incredulity
of   things  not their own  meanings.

  a pair of old Chuck Taylors on the bedspread,  a decrepit  bed for making love
    or passing time or  wasting the night away.
somewhere, someone  is  reading my  poems  and  weeping at the  cadence.
   most do not notice -- it was the caprice of things   not mine to  commandeer.
   the sound  of  stone masons hammering
boulders double the  melancholia.
   the deliberate sieving of  sand and  stone
      felt like   sandpaper air.
 the matutinal  sky split into dire condition
    much like  mine: becoming   and unbecoming.

all the   ******* are out in the streets
with ladies wuthering in high strides.
all the priests are in their rendezvous,
killing buddha heads.
the police have silenced the sirens
and behind pairs of old navy blue slacks
   and mobiles covered with dust,
the  captives scream mercy.
all the ATMs drone the pither of metal mouths.
a widow in Bocaue holding a picture
  of the departed.

i look up and see my face in the sky:
  if only i could **** the man and be the man,
fill his shoes with flesh, his movements my emulation, his enigmas my clarity, his day old denims my best dress.


more than beer and cigarettes have done me in and more to myself much no less
   than a cat hit by a speeding bicycle
  somewhere in Padre Faura.

madness hurries like a lover and hands me
   a picture of the moon.

i've got something and that's good enough
  as the police leave the grime of times
   and evict drunks off the streets of Malolos,
  as the priests step into the showers, naked
  and bloodied just like the ordinary man,
  as the cat that was hit
      by   a bicycle
   goes   back   to   the dark
  licking   the   salt  off the wound,
    bone fractured,    still alive on the  hot roof.
Oh, lady fountain above
Sing to me with your long laced words of love
Take me away - into the Heavens above

“Look here, peasant say -
Nothing is above, nor below your stand.
All is equal in mind of me -
For the Heavens is not something that you see.
It’s a land void of cold and warmth -
And a land where bodies don’t count.
Heaven is a place where thoughts don’t roam -
It is a place without prayer or hope.
It is a place where action is blank,
And a place where words don’t voice -
Heaven is as far away as the Sun,
And as close as your own heart.”

I looked at the lady in my dreams with curiosity -
A glare of confusion written over my face.
I begged for a clearer translation,
For my mind is not suited for riddles on Sundays.

She borrowed a second, and then bowed to the right -
She smiled at herself, and then took off in flight.
She disappeared in a flash out of my sight -
I ****** my inability to comprehend,
And my insignificance in the beginning-less end.
I sat down where I was, and I pondered for a while -
The lady fountain and her charm,
Her wisdom and her flattering song.
She spoke without speaking,
And I listened without hearing -
I felt left in the dark, while she flew freely
Somewhere within the world of the holy unseen.

A week went by, and the skies changed rapid color -
First from blue to orange to green,
Then it all faded to an indigo sheen -
Shinier than metallic mobiles
And grander than the highest skyscraper.
The hues sanded time into fragments of measurement
And faded quickly into normality within the Now.
On that new Sunday, the lady fountain appeared again to me.
She brought with her a friend of angel wings -
They both said “Hello” and flew in transparent circles,
Claiming to be God’s favorite children.

— The End —