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Alex Jun 2014
So there I was,
Just scrolling thru Instagram,
When I had a realization:

I want a hammock.
Hipster much
Quentin Briscoe Mar 2012
I can't do what you do!
                                            I cant capture it the same....
                                                                                                Cuz if i could
                                            I wouldn't hold my name....

I would just be a second hand!
                                            a offspring to your fame....
                                                                                           A lonley little brother
                                           playing a mocking game....

So I will let you keep your power!
                                          keep thinking that I'm lame
                                                                                              I'll over throw you
                                 To show why I dont do things the SAME.....
I am at peace
Grasping gatherin"
Marble extracted pieces

Dust all over deep  ye
shallow crevices  cry
A white dove's  fly
free of sorrow

I'd love to seal a millionth
tears on your lips kiss my farewell

I am the deep Space
I am the Brahman
I am the fine firmament
You are all best
Such is the truth

I am blood flesh body consciousness
Such is the Truth

I am the firmament
Go down on fantasy
Burn your fleshy
Languish fingers
And see where they land

Into the neverland anythin" is
Laying the sea **** as it were
A forest's tapestry ready
Finally
To recall the roll over
The magic Moss
and the razor sharp
entwined stares are infatuated
entirely, submerged in carnal
Pleasures and driftin" as
Smooth as our palms
explore the desired
Softness
Surfaces
Flowerin" as
Transcient
Shapes of heavenly
waves
wavin"
Shape shifti'n
Shinin' within our legendary
Black holes of perception

Rays fall exposed to the
Light
Acoustic fractures resemble
Ray's glimmerin' under
Undulated  brilliancies

Hey you, painter, a wordsmith of a happy fiddle tunes
All over the the land, ripe harry hills, bush berries and burgundy
Grow infinitesimal promises

Step aside for a while, apparitions of your wildest abstractions
Mean nothin" Come and take my breath away by the hand
And swim me to Swimmers' simmerin'

Endless Time is a ****** illusion
A Reckless hope drivin"
Without a licence

Ricochet
Toughts
Trickle
Riot rascals
And ******* concortions
Emanate radiant embarassed
Spirallin" shy blushes
To hide and die of this word: Anguish

I'd swallow the swell day
I'd let you know your golden and crimson
Violet
Deep Thoughts of Goodness

Precious precious Indigo
Ageless darlin'

Step a bit further
And see it (for) yourself
Eruptions
Coolin" within
The open space spiced
Dee light danger liasons

Ferocious I'm borne
Ferocious I give off
The light

I dye
I diamond you
I die dao the way up to you into the uncountable fervored Future

I burn I burn

I am the Sun
And the stars and the galaxies
I am The earth
I am the forest the mountains
I am the lake
Call me a fake
And mockin" will explode
Around your sweet grinin" face

Do not agree that we only read
Some make bread with sour cream
Some make cookies with a bit of green
Some throw flat stones upon the mild surfaces seen

Mirrorin" their minor inspirations tryin" to put others down
Hey, here is your crown! Bittersweet! Clown!

Clovers
Piment
Flowers
Horns
Thorns
Ageless
Aureolas
Borne

Scented oils linger in a sanguine air
Upon your tangible surrender
I fall and kiss your kiss

Rivers run wild flowering seeds
Rivers carry them to Toward n" a while deeds
Within cosmic symphonies by Oceanic all blueness

Blatant and Blissful
Ponds dormir

This all comes and goes
like ripples    
Upon the jade pond
This comes and voes like a vessel
Transports all beings

All beings engage in their essence
Liberated


While the noble sage
Disillussions own Self:

Subtle and ethereal body

This I am
This I am not










The wise
The names
The forms
The invisible
The intangible
They do Keep on goin'
Manure for the soul body mind.
Manure for the truthful seekers.
Major influence by Deepak Chopra.
Minor influence by the truth which lies in each and every one of us.
Hope you enjoyed the conducted narrative. Take for granted only what you percieve to be (your) Truth. This is poetry! This does and doesn"t speak of love. Tho" it aims to divine blissful revelations.
BlakOps Feb 2012
Blackbored,
Mockin’ my sin.
Off topic thoughts
Lost in clouds
Wait.                                                            ­                                    
I’m day dreamin’ again.
Gettin’ a headache
Starin’ at this papermate.
Prayin’ for ink volcanoes
As papers lay waste,
Book bag graveyards claim
Tree sashimi
But wait.                                                            ­                              
I’m sleepin’ again.
Tan colored walls, I’m fiendin’ again.
Blue waters, clean air
Sand freckles on Brown skin
Time is not of the essence
White webs claim to be beds,
Only to claim time as a victim
Stop.                                                     ­                                         
Lost me again.
Starin’ at a screen
Colorful words fill white walls
The desktops hardly seems like a substitute
Drones stare harder
Teeth cut through chain
Walls crumble beneath my feet
Halt.                                                       ­                                       
Where are my friends?
A partner in crime
Trouble is requirement,
Adventure is not a doubt

                                                          ­                 But wait.
                                                           ­                                            I’m only dreamin’ again,
                                                                ­                     Fiendin’ again,
                                                          ­                                     Where is reason?
Critique is welcomed.
From grey plaster dwellin’s they come to us
fer enough sun t’ melt their lollies but
after sun-burnt migrations, some remain
as they can choose our shacks fer their castles
and their spawn breaks the spines on each weaver
and fer their red-faced fuss ‘e is broken.

The ‘ermit crab too takes ‘is leave broken.
The ‘ome ‘e made now closed to all of us
Not passed by ta’ooed ‘ands o' net weavers.
The painted shells still litter these streets but
suited slugs paint gray on our small castles
till only mockin’ shades of age remain.

“Shave off, *******’ll pick till none o’ yer remain”
screamed mad John as relaters “fixed ‘im” broken
into some plastic ‘ouse from ‘is castle.
‘ow ‘e used t’ tell those old tales to us
'o the deep places and the things there but
they ‘ad ‘im by the gills, poor old weaver.

Spines down, in nets made by ‘is own weavin.
we did it to ourselves, we can’t remain
Wi’ nets o’ money, o’ *****, o’ smokes, but
black flags still fly, bein’ bent never broken.
Cross-bone attractions will be left as us
‘eld by those who took away our castles

Stormin’ beaches to kick down our castles
the sandy ‘oles and ‘ides of those weavers.
Sellin’ our anger like lug, dear to us
cast from the sea of us that will remain
‘ook lipped, ring-eared, ink-stained and not broken
nothin’ t’ be fixed and no-one changed but

In come those nets, I ‘aint been caught yet but
that gray, that London gray sweeps my castle
away where the concrete can’t be broken
t’ reach lug beneath dried surface weavers
as gulls break beaks t’ peck at the remains.
yes, we’ll eat each-other if they take us.

Take enough of us, and leave shell castles
no ‘ands to ‘old jolly Rodgers and sing
‘appily swear, or dance on tables but
**** that.
A sestina, using phonetic language, on the immigration of Londoners on my seaside home (a weaver is both a spiny fish and a fishing net maker).
MetaVerse Jul 29
I woke up this mornin' feelin' like I couldn't lose.
Yes, I woke up this mornin' feelin' like I just couldn't lose.
I got outta bed and put on my blue suede shoes.

I ate me some breakfast, and I read me some Langston Hughes.
I ate me a good breakfast, and I read me some Langston Hughes.
An' I'm done readin' a lot of fake-*** mockin'bird news.

I'll probly find 'em tomorrow swimmin' in my *****.
O Lord, I'll probly find 'em tomorrow swimmin' in my *****.
But, thank you, Lord Jesus, today I done lost my blues.


Ken Pepiton Jun 2019
The big ice is melting, you can't stop it.

It's not your fault. You did nothing. You were made for such a time.
You happened, to be live,
right.
Look, out o'body, like from the moon,

what part can we conntinue to ****? What part of
The earth, our spaceship spiraling through

the galaxy, you believe that, right? The galaxy,

one among, right, many many many galaxies, right? We know
somebody knows,

but me, do I know? You know, but me
the maker of this bubble

fractaling into
now.
All time in all place is now right now. Life the fool says has an end

thought speed. Time, endure in timeless thought

constant instant

----
cross di mention al for givin' me this opportunity
to compete
for your attention, in th enoise... e'therealorgnot

pause, plenty o' time, think about nothin'

Peace making is as intuitive as love making was when you...

did you ever, make
anything? Love as a word lacks the power folk claim it holds,

truth. There's the peacemaker's hammer, by god.
Truth.
Chains fallen from the oppressed,
captives all set free,

was that not the fast we fasted? What is this we see,
now?
******* mockin' wisdom of d'sages and richi-shitstictics
myst or mist
occlusin inclusion, bubble barrier, here

safe in no doubt, no fear, no lie, keep saying it,
till it's true,

or yu can imagine it is and see it was not due to you.
raw but timely, if y'ax me.
Connie Hopkins Apr 2021
When your sitting in the evening
And you catch yourself a listening
To a Mocking bird singing his songs

You realize what you missing
Cause you hardly ever listen
To a Mocking bird singing his songs.
             By: Connie Hopkins
Until we all die
I'm going forever stay high
Pay attention to ya peeps
Around you
Enemies stay closer than friends
They always find ways to do ya in
No pretender playa hataz surrender
**** role models I rather drink a pint of a liquor bottle
Thoughts on blast how will I last?
Before this pain breaks me
N then it'll be a homicide
Aiyo I'm mockin' war strategist
They say I'm crazy cuz I don't love my baby
Huh I feels no pain everything's derange
I think I'll do a little *******
Chased with Mary jane
I'm not dumb to know
It won't ease the pain
Surrounding my membrane
Its all a stain **** shame
My folks don't feel what I feel
And they wonder I got a verge to ****
Sneding suckas to the morge
Makes feel good
Whatever happened to poor george
My gunner man shocked his ***
When he didn't see the gun blast
All is past
**** I can't shake these painful memories
The pressure building I'm close to losing my mind
Its an eye for eye
Still we humans ain't gone find peace
Until we all die
Ken Pepiton Feb 2022
LORD said, These have no master:
let them return every man to his house in peace.

From <https://biblehub.com/kjvs/1_kings/22.htm>

There came a time,
when none found peace,
on any channel there is war, and old tropes
from when aldous
huxley was running suggestions past ivy lee and freud's
nephew, new-thinking, yes, resonant, isn't it
eddy bernays, yes, the sizzle sell. And,
get to the yeses, all the promises
are yeses

lovely, lovely, lovely,
how easily we seem to live on TV, if it gets too gritty,
-oh fool me, once, hahaha
it has, it has gotten too, many grinding high friction,
on backsides warmed with old time religion,
-woodshed discussions were never discussed
nor was curiosity praised,
for asking if the grown ups knew what Miss Kitty's
girls did, down at the Long Branch, in Dodge City,
when it was wet,
and streets were muddy,
and had wooden side walks…. on the radio
Gunsmoke
Spurs into the saloon,
why sure, some fool's would.
But once.
You know, wanting to make the sound
of Marshall Dillon, coming through

old cobwebbed swing doors, as accurate as any
on black & white TV, the sound
of his spurs
on the boards,
made my grandma laugh.

We came exploring under the oath
of eternal hostility

and if need be, opposing force, prepositioned
in every way, upto 150,

and upto as well, if upto is not a valid preposition,
it is a position, I can conserve.
I take it all the time,
breathing upto and no more, no matter,
I can't explode, inhalation ceases
and I can't explode in rage,
by ceasing to exhale or ****.
-so
As to the power of oath it is seeming universal,
in the era of 5G unlimited plans, and shared
subscriptions,
publishers clearing house, trained sales force,
the biggest ever, at its height,
I was in that class, bright futures,
1962 Eighth graders in rural America sold more
magazine subscriptions than you may imagine,
as preparation for a future,
when sales is the only gig in town, and
nobody
is making any thing worth the pitch to patch the leaks,
it’s the same old story,
slowing down, settling for less, and saying that's enough,

but fully expecting too much on the backswing,
as we follow through, the amatuer guile, eh, act innocent

be one of miss kitty's girls, like on tv, but at Disneyland,
did they play the role, or
never know the whole, link to now from when,

the west was wild, big white men with guns,
came to tame it,
open many long branches… before Prohibition

Fifty more years, every body forget but AI, remembers,
Black Elk danced.

Backtalk to my professorial betters, ah
behave myself,
don't act like
ol' Johnny Apache, mockin' Annie Oakley wannabe
in Purple Santa Fe fringed leather jacket,
accented by rare Wuhan Pangolin
boots, belt, and saddle bag purse,
and a Caspel Twid straw hat, like Cher wore in People.

heh, hey Annie,
getcher gun, shoot me, I ain't good, I ain't dead,
or some such he said,
and he passed me his jug of Mogen David,
I took a pull,
just as no ****, a sheriffs deputy who had not
been shot, when he shoulda been,
in that Jamaica guy's song,
- Johnny's brother Jonah,  joined us in jail
- he was pretty bad shape, that night
- pukin' blood, and retchin'
the deputy at night was also oughta be dead, kinda man,
Johnny let me know later, that night in jail in 1970,
Cottonwood Arizona, I know,
I have told this story, too many times to make sense,

I also know Fred Douglas wrote his whole story
and published it, five times, as it rolled out….
over the years…
-thing reconnect, you gotta know the knots

so if I have the time and inclination,
and I happen to find a common sense, a mean measure,
- so much and no more,
- full of all thought about that and I agree

where all the rain that ever fell on me, at that time
once fell on someone you love, too, at the same time,
same rain,
some time, one time, I thought of that and thought of you,
because you read this line. And you thought so, too,
you said to yourself, life makes no sense,

if you feel you need to row your boat, or tote your weight,
this is an hour at the end of a happy life,

where cares were cast to mull over, wondering,
how did we get from then to now,
without being
normalized?
Mentally backtalking Victor Davis Hansen, as an old first earth day hippy, one year after Vietnam.
Sharde' Fultz Feb 2019
Kept sittin my notebook by my bed like I was about to write
Thought it would motivate me
All it did was make me feel guilty every night
Sittin there mockin me
Making me feel like less than myself
Like I lost all my artistry
I didnt start cause I didnt believe in me, honestly.
Like if Im gonna write it has to be special
It has to say something
Be visceral
Prolific
Live beyond my life expectancy
Be better than my last piece of poetry.
So I didnt.

And it sat there.
JAATC Oct 2020
Take a deep
Breath of the Fragrance
Whose vibe is light
And the wavelength of the cooling breath
Is the matrix
Of a swimming pool
That I'm just a wave in
But with Shaktipat
I'm awakened
As sahasrar blossoms gracefully
Reveling in its radiance
Still I contemplate in the shade of it
As shadows mimic Her play
And these stars mockin' my faith
Can do nothing but smile
As Nataraj takes the stage
Blessed, and I'm content with magic
Though my intellect's still graspin'
I don't even trip
Like between in and exhalation
Or the space
You contemplate from as your thoughts race
Until I reign like King
Over these subtle storms of wonder
Pray to Allah to make it rain
Til' my garment's absorbed in Him
And my performance in harmony
My vehicle's adorning
The Goddess Shakti
And I rest without leaks
In Self Almighty
Homage to Noble Drew Ali

— The End —