Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Robin Carretti May 2018
So grace me through
my colors
Let's Start

God Grace me

Someone was smart
To raise me
But the blaze
came and love
pursued me
He pushed me
Into his hot blaze

His ***** of fire
A big part of the script
Another lift in his
desire
But my lips
Got raised up
But couldn't.sustain
the fire
The glossy shimmer
Sky hug
He Aint nothing but
a hound dog goodbye
Raised me Orange
Red Robin fly

But how you
face me
Never to
disgrace me

You pick me up with
all my goods
Odds with the bad
Honorable Gods
And so many facets
of my moods
Watch out!!
Starburst

Or a war curse

We  evaporate
In fragments

Orange segments
Sliced and eaten

Love forbidden fruit
One hidden

Embrace the warm solitude

all over your face,
Someone is rude
Fresh Orange
told you
It's Fate

That brought us
together
Orange juicier sun

So many love forms
Whose terms? Just run
This world full of
germs
But to juice things up


How the colors of your
eyes came to an epical stop

But nursed me
orange juice hip hop

He dazed into me
After-life
They named her
Saucy before-life
See ablaze
orange zest
See me and fly me
At my very best

My breast was
so nicely raised


Lips so fruitful
he cannot
resist you know
the rest??

In the mix of orange
things
Pink rings
Butterfly eyes
winged

Was set so privately-----*

The red tail hawk
Was the talk of the 
 Orangey words flowy
Popsicle poppy eye town
No time to refresh
my colors

Free bird orange up
The ramp no lady
and tramps
Just (Gypsies Orange Vamp)
The rocks fall to thump
Trump orange fixtures
Towers Forestal Gump

The soothing smile of lights
He came to you pop features
All over my place
So cultural to the race
The colors of
Orange mellow
oh! no
Here comes yellow----

Creaming into his
creamsicle
Gelato
popsicle
My feeling divided
like politics

Been sliced by
the orange Super bowl
Erotics
Sunny California Kist
Rodeo drive what a
list
Satanic red
Orange Christ
But that orange
She Shh_ sheets
Had the most vibrant
juicy beats
Tomato vines Rome
Lend me your orange
No ears no other
color of tears

Villians of vineyards
Orange bowl of fruit
No Junkyards
The owl started to hoot
Towards the bad apple

My heart was galloping
Shrimp and scallop
Right in my western charm
boot he takes off

Another mix of paint
Orange isn't carrots and
pumpkins
Austin Power Mini-me
Munchkins

Or goblins spooked
Mandarin Orange lovely
Divinely licked
Gingerly lovely Cayenne
Sweet Pepper he looked at her
Lucky 7 Orange ring karat

Whats up Doc
_


Any cracks of his cravat
Orange Key-West lock
Doesn't turn get off
my block
I am going to
Bangkok
With Chuck

Having Orange Tang
He was holding me
777 karat ring
The  Mediterranian
party
Why so dead sea
Pink Smarty
Orange blosson tea
Orange Marquis
Louis and Diamonds
All clockwork
Orange movies

In the lounge of
Raymonds of ring
junkies
Pour OJ for me
**** a doodle doo

Flash of orange came at me
Do you want to?

The operation of heartless
surgery
The Showstopper emergency
Revived refreshing lady
of purity but no orange
The
((Orange Marquis))
Off to see the Wizardly
Orange field gorgeous
WC fields raise

Writer with the
lucky pen praise
Her editor was
the perfect color
ten

Miss coralline with
her coral rock
The mixed infusion

Next color comes up
Raise your brow reaction

Needing a follow-up

Orange rinds
Another call-up
Giddy Apps up
Orange glittering
passion fruit
paintbrush
Soap Opera beauty
and the beast
Another gulp the
pulp pretty in pink
psst
_

Orange-pink tropical
girl orange whirl
The orange-red ringlets
She curled inside him
Glass raise you cup trim
In your villa stucco orange
You were breastfeeding
his orange suited juice

No time to see another
color
Orangey wiz showbiz
Arabian sky sunset
burnt orange
The caramel bump
of the camel
Her favorite one
mural

Lips of tang so foreign
She is flaming like a
flamingo bed

Get his color out of
Cotton picking head
Your shampoo
The
"Orange Oddysey"

Hey, what do you say?

Just open your
eyeshadows
He shadows her in

Or a site for sore eyes got
puffy war of
orange bubbles begin

Feather me
orange wings
The fringe orange
suede
flops
you happy

The A+ diet of fruit
he was the
hotshot
Glass
You're at the
bake me
What do you know
he passed

The spa refreshing
orange peel
mystique

Long lace-lit
Unique
He was coming on too
bossy orangey burst
cheeks were falling
Rise up not down
Orange Julius raise
his price
Fed Ex orange truck
got closer to
Her alluring butterfly
Orange U glad
To catch her
To court her
Fast Orange perfume
She Sha shala
femme
Orange flames came
from his cleft

Still no time for your
spouse whoa he left
_

Now please let me know

what I left out
Orange you glad

this is the only color love
him madly
Orange so vibrant masterpiece the butterfly changes
like a wedding centerpiece
The victim list keeps growing

But no one really cares

The gristmill claims another one

Keep your hands in and don't stare

Hollywood is the golden land

The eternal silver screen

But many souls are lost here

A lot of greats or never beens

Child stars and veterans

The names can fill a book

Look, we've lost another one

Keep on moving, no time to look

We show concern when tales we hear

Of celebs dying young

We ruminate on films not made

And songs they've never sung

Each busload brings another group

To fill the starstruck void

And the next bus has a dozen more

With dreams, too soon destroyed

It's been this way since film began

The streets are filled with scores

Of undiscovered junkies,

And photogenic ******.

Some you know and some you don't

It's a list a mile long

It's amazing how these fragile folks

Could end up going wrong

The studios were pimps back then

With bennies all the rage

They loaded up their bonus babes

And then they sent them out on stage

We've seen the Little Rascals

You know Alfalfa Switzer, but,

Did you know he died a ******

From a bullet to his gut?

Scandals, lawsuits, hidden trysts

These stars were fully amped

Girls below the legal age,

Made Chaplins ***** a *****

Arbuckle committed ******

Other's just od'd

It's amazing how the failures

Make for a better read

Oh look another bus trip

Past the houses of the stars

All manicured and landscaped lawns

Just to hide the ****** scars

If you look behind the curtain

Back into the world of Oz

You'll find the munchkins getting plastered

And dear Judy dead because

They made her a screen idol

They broke down the girl inside

They milked her for her talent

****, they took her for a ride,

For every one like Garland

There's a thousand more in line

Just waiting for their chance to see

Their name upon that sign

Keep together, Keep on moving

There's lot's more for you to see

River Phoenix from an overdose

John Belsushi killed by speed

Peg Entwhistle jumped from high atop

The Hollywood sign we see

She decided she had had enough

In either 32 or 33.

Hughes bough loads of starlets

He liked to hide them round the town

But he was always way too busy

Getting up or coming down

James Dean died in a car crash

Add his name unto the glut

And there was young Grace Kelly

It seems our Princess was a ****

Jean Harlows husband shot himself

Clara Bow liked  having fun

In fact she ******* the USC football team

And I think she might have won

Look up and see the smiles

Of the ones who reached their dream

But, many do not go unscathed

In Space they can't hear you scream!

Sal Mineo was murdered,

Then there's dear dear Natalie Wood

They're not saying  RJ done it,

But it sure does not look good

Remember the curly headed kid

Who played Buffy on tv

She ended up so full of drugs

It's a list from A to Z

Now, when stars have problems

they do reheab and they hide

Back then they never had the chance

They just committed suicide

The man of steel, George Reeves

Was found shot in the head

They're not sure who killed Superman

So they said suicide instead,

Bob Crane, our Colonel Hogan

Made **** films and did drugs

But, whle Hogan's Heroes was still on

This was swept under the rugs

We can keep on this forever

Listing failures more than gains

For to be a fallen idol

comes with alot of pain

Child stars, just brushed aside

Their names and faces lost

Their lives are but a footnote

Is their loss the final cost?

You can peek behind the curtain

The wizard's still there today

But, if you come to visit

Please don't make the choice to stay

For, the victim list keeps growing

It gets longer every year

But, for many of these fallen stars

Is there one who'll shed a tear?

It's an image on a silver screen

We love the work they do

But of each ten thousand who do try

There's only one who's dream comes true

So, watch and listen closely

For in Hollywood you'll find

A list of tragic stories

Who the movies left behind.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2018
.oddly enough, the only way to escape **** addiction... is to ******* your escape... but... em... **** addiction? more like, to counter the culture of exhibitionism on the females' part... i've looked... no video of a guy imitating doing **** with his bony hand... so... there's only one way out, ******* long enough while taking a **** and a ****... and... done... all that's left is a bunch of ***** and ***** boasting some frivolous enterprise of depicting contraception; mere abstinence doesn't work... you have... **** your way out of this Alcatraz; finding the bore is so liberating... it's like finding your **** again, and seeing an amputated hand's space, where imitation **** used to be.

and why did the game
war robots...
do away with the king of the hill
option?

**** me... it was the most
tactical version of the game...
most people didn't get it...

they didn't get it because
they "thought" that by simply
capturing a beacon
you'd get to eat the brownies...

no!
the whole point was standing
your ground... in the beacon
vicinity, to drain away the points-per-second
earned by... standing your ground...

it was a defense strategy format
of the game...
              and the other aspect?
predictions...
you had to solidify yourself
to the pattern of which
beacons would light up for you
to defend...

      it was the most fun variant of
the whole experience...
not some mindless variant...
the most tactical aspect of the game,
and the game engineers pulled out
and deleted it...

that's what made the game fun,
you have a second layer of tactic...
you weren't supposed
to play the eager-trigger role
of the infantry...
you had to think about sustaining
an occupation of a certain
space in the game...
  like... sitting in the trenches
during world war I...

               but then people have
to take out the fun in not being
all: trigger-happy...
            
         hell... if this game wasn't as
engaging as it is...
but given the revision, it's becoming less so...
i'd take about 5 minutes to take a shower,
and about 6 minutes to take a ****
while massaging my prostate
with an eager **** shaft...

what? some people have the audacity
to take a **** while pretending to
read a book, while at the same time jerking
off in an armchair with scented candles...
i do the 1 through to 4...
take a ****, take a ****,
*******, play a video game for about
10 minutes on the throne of
thrones...

                  sometimes i get lucky and
miss no. 3... because i'm like...
what's the ******* point, right now?
                 i already know that
the sensation of ******* is purely
muscular and not related to
actual *******...
i know... i did it from the age of 8...
when... nothing came out...
you could cut by ***** off and
i'd still feel an, "******"...

               so... hey, snippet...
it's not like i'm planning to have any
little munchkins running around...
although i might have liked that...
but we're past that...
   liberal democracies...
yeah... i've heard that fairy-tale...
the sort of ideas that drug up
libertarian right-wingers?
  those asylums of pompous
verbiage?
                oh sure... i know them....
i live in one of them...
     i'm of a different schooling...
**** Hobbes, **** Locke,
**** Hume and ****
Machiavelli...
               i'd replace Machiavelli with
la Rochefoucauld... to begin with...
Hume with Kant,
                           and the other two...
can't be bothered...
it's enough to counter Machiavelli...
if there's even a counter...
let's just throw in some names...
let's say: Heidegger for Hobbes...
and Sartre for Locke...
  evidently non-related...
                       but in all earnest...
Marquis de Sade...
                                     ******...
an overlooked gem of a novella...
         so...         concentrated and non-repetitive...
an actual work of philosophy...

but why did the gaming developers
have to **** around with
the king of the hill tactical game-play?

half as fun doing the 1, 2, 4 and the sometimes 3
on the throne of thrones.

well yeah... king of kings...
but the king of kings didn't exactly sit
on the throne of thrones...
he put a jester on it... to reveal
exactly as much as is worth: this.
Wayne H Colegate Sep 2012
I remember running to first, faster then a scream
Now that kind of speed is just a foolish dream.
Age is such a vicious foe, slower by the day
My anger yells at speed of light with nothing real to say.
I still dream of hitting first against the burning sun
Each Saturday was just a game, a war that must be won.
The ball was hit just like my soul soaring in the air
Its always true life is foul or sometimes it is fair.
I loved to hear my father’s yell when the play was on my turf
The yells from distant fans of mine screaming for the smurf.
Even munchkins have to age according to the word of  Oz
But baseball dreams have no rules and  it's sons they have no laws.
Copyright Protected....Wayne H. Colegate- From Reflections On Gravestones and Satin Sheets
Traveler Jul 2020
Challenge Thomas Case
from a historical figure's viewpoint.

(Pay no attention to the little man behind the curtains)

All my great inventions
An Emerald City of true paradise
An eye in the sky that watches all...
At the labor of the Munchkins
The city thrives on and on
  The four winds carry my famous name
The great and most powerful OZ!

There was ones a great disturbance
A march upon my precious city
The yellow brick road of evil
The Witches of all directions raised
Dorothy and her posy had arrived

Why can't they understand
I protect this kingdom
From the dangers of the outsiders
And the opinions of those unwelcome here in Oz!

But then it happened
Nothing would ever be the same
The Munchkins revolted
Red ruby glass slippers some witch made
Would over power my dictatorship

The Munchkins now ruling their selves
In league with some race of monkey elves
Left me no choice
So I returned to Kansas
Just behind Dorothy and her confounded little dog Toto

I joined the mighty Canaveral for a short spell
Still there and everywhere
Again and again evil dwelt among men
So beware
Until this day I still fight for the small people
..........................................................­................



                                    
                         W. Oz
Misty morning, clouds in the sky
Without warning, the wizard walks by
Casting his shadow, weaving his spell
Funny clothes, tinkling bell
Never talking
Just keeps walking
Spreading his magic
Evil power disappears
Demons worry when the wizard is near
He turns tears into joy
Everyone's happy when the wizard walks by
Never talking
Just keeps walking
Spreading his magic
Sun is shining, clouds have gone by
All the people give a happy sigh
He has passed by, giving his sign
Left all the people feeling so fine
Never talking
Just keeps walking
Spreading his magic.

BLACK SABBATH
Songwriters: John Osbourne / Terence Butler / Frank Iommi / W.t. Ward

Traveler Tim
Mike Hauser May 2015
I just started my new job
As the handyman in the land of OZ
Seems things haven't been going the same
Since the Wizard up and left that day

First off is that house from Kansas
The one that fell on the Witch of the East
There's no way the Munchkins can move it
So we're going to renovate it right there on the side of the street

And turn it into a Bed & Breakfast
Where all the Good Witches can relax and stay
Then they all won't be so apt to
Commandeer a sphere and float away

After that I'll need to buy some silver paint
As the Tin Man is looking rather dull these days
And while I'm at it might as well, some yellow and green
To give the road and OZ a brand new sheen

And since the Witch of the West has been put to rest
I have all the Flying Monkey helpers I can use
As my professional skills will be put to the test
Giving her dingy castle a good ole OZ spruce

I wonder why they've never had someone before
Oh yea, I've also gotta fix that Knocker on the front door
There are so many things that need to be done
Me being the new Handy Man in the land of OZ
Natalie Jane Jul 2013
A LETTER FOR YOU (AND, OF COURSE, FOR ME, TOO):
It smells like my grandmother's house in here.
Like lazy Saturdays, of dripping sweat, of climbing trees, of building Lincoln Log houses for ants or Deathstars of Legos but I spread my legs and that smell of--regret is not the word, nor is shame--I feel neither--but of came, of stale, cold air and stiff comforters on top a bed at the Best Western--A living proof of how you've changed. After you finish and inhale and burst your exhausted, satisfied breath, I sweetly kiss you--your neck, your jawline, your cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids. You hold us in and sleep as if a few drinks are enough to forgive. I tell you to slow down because you owe me about 5 years to make up for lost time. You slip your tongue down as if I had not broken your heart. But a man learns, and that's our biggest difference--man and woman, you and I--you've grown cold and moved on to content loneliness and betterness than to give a girl who's hurt you a second chance.
Me--I've grown to let the warmth run over you, like a hot glass of water from a motel room sink after an ******. Past content, loneliness and betterness than to obsess about a boy grown sour from a girl too hurt to not want to take back the past.
We check in for the night to "make up for lost time."
We check out.
What's a girl to do?
Other than watch you sleep so still like you used to next to me, even with still blankets, it's cold. Hold me?
We walk out to our cars on a hot, departing Fourth of July.
I coax you into closing your lips over mine before you leave, but the key is already turned in. We already ate our free breakfast, ******, scratched, bruised.
You've already checked out, so
what's a girl to do now?
What's a girl to do?
AND
I cannot forget Whitman's words: "We were together, I forget the rest."
AND
Vonnegut's epitaph: "Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt."
AND
"Every time I kiss you
After a long separation
I feel
I am putting a hurried love letter
In a red mailbox"

AND
I feel like a one night stanza written by you who is more beautiful and unforgiving than words on a page
AND*
I am not drinking quickly enough--or enough, despite the speed
AND
Bukowski's poem:
year-worn
weary to the bone,
dancing in the dark with the
dark,
the Suicide Kid gone
gray.
Ah! the swift summers
over and gone
forever!
Is that death
stalking me
now?
No, it's only my cat,
this
time
AND I DIGRESS BECAUSE
my dear sweet Ambien Walrus has abandoned me in reality among the living. So blissful breaks, only a stomach churning in the minutes passing of a long night.
No worries, Mr. Walrus. I'd abandon me too. Only drinking, imagined aliens, crying and words here--words to document your blessed coming and mournful going into the wee hours of the unforgiving days. There is no glory in the mornings. I watch for you as I watch the hours pass. No bliss in the minutes stretched over the midnight break. Only words, no blessing, no grace, to pass the heavy nagging of the night. Will I see you again?
"We were together, I forget the rest."
What's a girl to do?
AND
oh yeah, drink more. Fingers crossed.
What more can a girl do, really?
OH
take another drink before the liquor runs out.
AND DRAW UPON MISTAKES PAST
I know this letter is getting out of hand
BUT
hear me out for all the words you never had to hear. I promise I'll throw in a joke somewhere.
AND
I sneak outside for a cigarette and watch an armadillo rummage closer to me while I search for another poem to make me feel better, another poem for this letter to you I will never send but maybe, if the situation's right, to read to you on some drunken night. I promised you a joke, but now, I giggle at my own feelings. Maybe you will too. I hope you laugh too--At my hands so aching, at my torn apart ******, at my silly feelings and words to help me forget a reminiscing night of you pushing my hair from my face so you can see my eyes when I purse my lips down below.
SO
here's your joke, I suppose.
This one's on me.
IN CONCLUSION
"At 23, the best of my life is over and its bitters double...I am sick at heart...I have outlived all my appetites and most of my vanities."
Byron knew the futility of joy in little things. In my quest to overcome a trivial ache, I have re-imagined a familiar road to uncertainty, instability, and insanity.
How great thou art!
Give me sleep and less slipping into this place of comfortable communion with the illnesses of my mind.
Of the body of Christ.
Amen.
Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the words and I shall be* sane.
Like Lazarus from the grave:
"This is not what I meant, at all."
"That is not it, at all."

God bless the blue.
What else is a girl to do?
BECAUSE
From the wards, I smell the mourned words of a place that I called home--this imaginary place that we must reinvent ourselves. Maybe mine is on Corporate Woods Drive, and all this--this is just a yellow brick road with little munchkins sweetly singing, follow it back home. I'll skip in a pretty dress with my friends and my babies to smell the grey walls and be asked of safety. I get lost every once in awhile but the Cheshire Cat asks, "where do you want to go?"
"I want to go home," I answer.
"Then," says the cat, "it doesn't matter."
IN OTHER WORDS
"I'm afraid I can't explain myself, sir. Because I am not myself, you see?"
"I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Let me think: Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is, 'Who in the world am I?' Ah! that's the great puzzle!"
SINCERELY YOURS (AND MINE, TOO)
Natalie
Is there really a Middle Earth where Hobbits live or a Land called Oz
Are there really munchkins or  a Yellow Brick Road

Is there really a Lion, a Witch and a Wardrobe
do Harry, Hermonie or Ron live at Hogwarts
Or is it a Land of make-believe
i could go on forever
Poetic T Jan 2017
As I wiped the blade the congealing efforts of
what had perspired dripped in raindrops of lost essence,
I started to be nostalgic of when it all started and I smiled.
It isn't easy you know doing this hobby
                                        its a full time commitment,
I have responsibilities. And before you ask just because I live
in my moms basement it didn't have any implications to this
and what led to my endeavours of what I do now.

"You cant just go out stabbing people that bath salts territory
for goodness sakes,


Ok when did it start, around fifteen years ago give or take.
To think about it I was quite violated by the sight of blood,
I passed out at school when someone cut there finger. I know
from fainting to where I am today the paradox of it all.
So I was walking home and I thought stupidly to take a short
cut, I know that's just asking for a dilemma of consequences
but I was running late and thought overrode reason.

"Safer than sorry my mother would say,

I should really listen to words of wisdom than to just throw
them aside and regret them later. Well this time was a moment
of ignorance and I delved into my darker side and threw abandonment
to the winds of chance. I saw that idiot and knew without a thought
that his life needed to be forfeit in the eyes of the many.
In haste I went out and without planning I just used a unregistered firearm. These are so easy to find in ponds, lakes, rivers.You just have
to be stupid enough as I was to delve into them with a wet suit.

It was like swimming in the disgrace of humanity and I accidently
swallowed more of humanity than I wish to admit. As I reached
the shore of the golf course I had found a stupid amount of guns....
Do these pools ever get dredged?? how many angry golfers play
on this field?? but I just cleaned a few out not wiping away the prints,
silly little fools leaving there prints on the weapons.

I must admit the first five or six people that were my pleasure
of ending were just **** holes, total and utter ****-tards....
I know you just cant just going around killing totally
worthy munchkins. But it was my weaving of knowledge
into the formula of departing my subjects in a manner so that
a milk carton was the only focus they would get.
Never to show that they were an item of interest but a random appearance of some disillusioned person in a vendetta of misunderstood reasoning's.

But this lost its stimulation of enthralment  pretty quickly
due to the vacant space between us. It wasn't as if they knew
my face, it was just a finger pull and I ended them to hastily,
I even felt somewhat remorseful for them not knowing the
perpetrate of there demise. and a few ran still lingering to this
existence, do you realize the skill set to hit a moving target.
But none got to far, I didn't take it personally, it was a fight
or flight reaction.

But they were always vacant of life when I walked away
from the scene. I was always throwing these weapons
after a few uses, those that had used it before there prints
still viable. So those that had used it were to blame for
these indiscretions that I had partaken in. Karma was about
to visit upon those lost stories that drowned in that pond.

Learning was a curve that was thrown, and one that hit me
square between the eyes. I had slatted the impression that
I was in the right, and even though I wanted to seep the blade
into the flesh of my perspective victim. I had to watch
the implications of what I had preserved  in that moment.
There were struggles and definitions of what was acceptable.

I still had to hold a job, I worked in a hardware store,
"what are the chances, I know. But where you would think
someone that could easily end the breath of another would
stand out only the crazy ones. We the methodical ones were
patient,  too many and whispers starting and I needed silence this
had to be obeyed and enforced by myself. Urges had to vetted
another way and painting was my outlet for these compulsions.

Each one of us had as we called it our own unique ****** kits,
well what did you think we were going to call them hobby boxes.
Me I had a ways to disable my prey, a motion to move them concealed.
I had a people carrier,
                     "I know the humour didn't escape me either,
I had constructed a vessel to keep them static so not to move
and give the game away, kind of like a straight jacket restraint.
For the murmurs I had constructed a gold fish bowl of sorts,
constructed around the neck and then white noise is pumped
in  revoking the screams because of the frequencies of the
human voice.                
                            "science is so cool,

Do you realize it took five years of planning and a college
class in science to do many aspect of this hobby.
But where do I take them, to there own home, always
checking there schedules. Movement = time = opportunity.
And this is how I have worked all  this time, consistency is
what keeps the path clear for other endeavours.
The sense of smell in each home is unique, some people
though no respect of there surroundings and who may visit.

Do realize that some don't voice opinion as they know
if there in this predicament no words are going to change it.
Some struggle, but I learnt to use a paralyzing agent to render
them motionless. Sedated only tears fall from there suspended
features. I never clean up there mess, I'm not a house maid for
goodness sakes all must be as it was. But I clean up my killing
venture so there is no evidence of there parting here.

I have a little spot, we all have our own hiding places,
research is the key, and mine was a secluded place....
I cant explain where, as that would be telling and who
knows who's reading these passages. I must admit though
this is a full time obsession, "norms, that's you people.
Wouldn't realize the stresses that happen upon my psyche.

All I would say is
                 "Don't quite your day job
This isn't really a hobby for most, they don't have the
patience the needing of planning and the waiting of
who shall gift you their last moment then nothingness.
I am wired different to you people. My empathy for
your feelings is non-existent, we are a moment in time
and I plan to silence your hour glass, your grain is about
to fall into oblivions sights and it will swallow you whole.
Styles Jul 2014
I treat beef like lions in, the Ramada inn, dying to sign into the luncheon,
go to work,
     I punch in,
these beefcakez, is munchkins, my dough nuts, and bunch Keens.
We Brady Bunch,
and Punch like Kens -sheens.
we punching through functions
like a bunch of alienss at the Days Inns working equations off all kinds of ocassions, mostly Caucasian, facials so amazing, when their facebook, if they face them..I page in,and they page Kim, to let him, know that I'm waiting; the appointment meant, we dating, no promo, so stop your hating. take a selfy in the ****, stop ur waiting. ctrl, alt, delete. there's no.escaping- staple the email to your upper lip, recycle trash every other weak in. ***. Ginny, run, Freddy creeping. slow, creepy walk, Jason mask out the Lake Inn, my neighbors laughed, Chevy chasing there ***, child's play with a ****** hockey mask, i'm up to task. dog had a limp,so I made him part of the cast! Bruce Lee kicked, thier ******* ***, I'm talking full body cast.
Dark Paradox Nov 2010
Cold November winds blow
Sending icicle daggers through my coat.
Gray skies trying hard to snow
To blanket this barren land.

Stark naked trees reach beseechingly to the sky
Begging for their wintery coat of white.
Dried leaves dance mischievously through the streets,
Freed from their prison of branches.

Bundled up munchkins still play outdoors
Sent outside by frazzled moms.
Squeals of laughter drift into my thoughts
And are reminiscent of times long since past.

Sledding and ice skates, tubing and hats,
Hot chocolate, mittens and scarves.
November may be a month of gray,
But it ushers in winters wonders and fun.

Soon a blanket of white will cover the trees
The leaves will no longer dance
The wonderland transformed into a playground of white
As winter takes over the land.
11/19/10  Dark Paradox
Sean OConnell Dec 2013
Red
Sad poppies salute
those who lie in comrades' arms
in lost, lonely fields

Soft lips blow kisses
that ****** the fragile lust
of deluded minds

Bright light signals stop
to impatient ego trips
that know no better

Sad eyes betray grief
that obscures joy's emotions
with tragic picture

Blazed sunset beacons
a final, glowing farewell
to its daydream child

Oz shoes carry girl
safely over the rainbow
Munchkins cheer loudly
Sam Temple Apr 2015
The days hold America’s rare air
as the election cycle once again ramps up
enough wealth to end poverty
spent daily on advertisements
aimed at convincing the masses
that they can end poverty simply by
being elected –
campaign managers bash statisticians
for expressing pole numbers
not conducive to their bottom line
relying instead on sound bites
and FOX news so-called reporting –
Hundreds of households held for ransom
with “voting” as the only way to avoid
repercussions and retribution
from self-righteous Republicans
wringing their hands, awaiting a win –
mandated munchkins munch on museum merchandise
manufacturing baseless accusations
manipulating the mainstream
always, for more –
i dreamed i was in oz beyond the milky way
where everything was lovely and where the munchkins play
i saw a yellow brick road and i walked along
singing to my self a happy little song
then i met a tin man while i was on my way
he was stiff and rusty and began to rust away
then i put some oil on and he began to creek
i put on some more and he began to speak
we walked along together  standing side by side
when we saw lion and he began to hide
he was very scared his courage it had gone
so we took him with us then we carried on
further down the road we met a sad scarecrow
he was looking for a brain so his feelings he could show
then we met a wizard and told him of our plight
he said i can help you and put your problems right
then he cast a spell and there troubles went away
now they live so happily every single day
Mike Hauser Nov 2016
Who could have known
Or ever proposed
That Kansas farm girl
Would land back in Oz

Who could have guessed
All this no less
From that moment on
Would be such a mess

All because Dorthy
Went High Royalty
Ever since those ruby reds
She's had a need for the bling

Now she likes to buy
Everything in her sight
With Munchkins for servants
Who serve her outright

Then came the day
She ran out of dough
And the Lollipop Guild
Mentioned the road

Where few have been told
And even less know
That the Yellow Brick Road
Is really made out of gold

That's the happiest she's been
Since she arrived
As the shimmer and glimmer
Cha-Chinged in her eyes

She called her three friends
Clueing  them in
The Lion, the Scarecrow
And of course the Tin Man

As a matter of fact
Tin Man bring your ax
I have just the job
For you to get down with that

That's now where we are
I am sad to report
The Yellow Brick Road
Is now nothing but dirt

But sweet Dorthy dear
Has plenty of stuff
Though she still has her eyes
On the emeralds of Oz
Jason Cheney Oct 2021
Goblins, ghosts, faeries, friends and foes
Witches, werewolves, warlocks, and even the crows
Vampires, skeletons, and angry jack-o-lanterns
Makes Halloween a treasure for all little patrons

We dress up in costumes and sheets
Then we do wander the city corridors and streets
Knocking on people's doors
Tens, no hundreds, of kids by the scores

Calling out, trick or treat
Just to get something sweet
Happy Halloween
Is such a perfect holiday scene

Vibrant kids, both young and old
Bravely enduring the freezing cold
Just to keep this custom alive
Hopefully it will endure and thrive

Pillowcases filled with candy galore
The older kids desire even more
But for me this Halloween night
Gives me pure pleasure at the very sight

Of spooky hobgoblins running here and there
Smaller children being led by their parents with care
Halloween definitely is a fun filled night
Costumes of all types fall within my sight

Young girls dressed up as Jasmine
Some of those kids are probably mine
Here comes my GI Joe
His successful ventures this night surely do show

A ***** alley filled with eerie sounds
Double mirrors, chainsaws, and scary clowns
Rabied hounds which chase us down the maze
Is something everyone craves

This is why Halloween is a special treat in the fall
But the most important of all
Is the joy of seeing all these little munchkins
Who have dressed up as pumpkins

Though I am now too old to don a cap
For Halloween treats, I'm still a sap
I see a familiar figure striding up the street, in his cowboy costume
Luckily none of them ever rode home upon a magical broom.

So this Halloween night
When everyone looks a fright
Be happy, cheerful, and alert
As each child their hands do insert

Into my candy filled cauldron
I sure have their complete attention
Me hopes they don't see the heavy, woven net
That will swoop down and capture you, my little pets

I'll take these children, yes, each one of them
And fill them with candy and cookie crumbs
Then send them home all fat and sassy
This Halloween night has been fantastically, classy

Written by:
Jason Cheney
October 2021
i dreamed i was in oz so very far away
watching all the munchkins as they began to play
then i saw a straw man and a tin man to
followed by a lion beneath the sky so blue.

walking on a road yellow and so bright
dancing as they went filled with such delight
searching for a wizard to tell him of there plight
he lived in a castle so big and very white.

they say he granted wishes to anyone in need
that he was very kind very kind in deed
strawman needed brains to be clever as can be
lion needed courage to be coward free
tin man needed heart to be human too
then he could fall in love like the humans do.

they got to the castle big and very white
then heard the wizards voice it gave them such a fright
they told him of there wishes to see what he could do
wizard said dont worry ill grant your wish for you.

they were very happy there dreams had all come true
strawman had is brain now he felt brand new
tinman had his heart just like humans do
lion had his courage and was braver too

this what i dreamed a fairy tale come true
with an happy end just like the stories do
Not because it's
the land of Oz
or Toto
wants to go,
but I need to sleep
while the Munchkins meet
the Lion, the witch and
the tin man,
ha
bet you thought
I was going to say
wardrobe.
'....talking of Michelangelo'
Alexis Oct 2015
I’m not sure how I got up here and I’m kind of scared to try and get down. I’m all alone in this castle and it’s kind of hard not to frown. I try to smile, and make the best of every day. But my mother, my father, and siblings are just so far away. They probably think I am dead. Which I don’t blame them, for I’ve said, I may as well be gone, even though I’m not sure what I’ve done wrong.

“Little bird, little bird, help me fly away. I really don’t want to be here, I don’t want to stay, stuck in here for the rest of my life. I want to find a prince and be a wife! Oh, and have little munchkins running around the kingdom. If only I wasn’t the evil witch’s victim.
Butch Decatoria Oct 2019
Half moon high
In a deepening sky
The clouds like spider cotton,
Like blue ivory husks betwixt
Umber grey misty fog,
The diablerie of dusk
Dark sky and stars

The streets flooded,
a river of headlights, flashlights,
Sidewalks’ pedestrian traffic,
An Armada of munchkins, crowds
Strolling by Chinatown’s
Crisp neon plazas,
A necropolis bright with
Cartoon sharp signage
Accessorizing restaurants with
Jade And gold, foot spas
And red doors…
Horrors of hangings
Roast ducks and pigs decapitated…

Yet the evening is dressed finely still
All eyes lurking
Shadows floating by
Not to be forgotten tonight
Dias de las Muertos
En espanol…

While down the road
Neighborhood way
Skitters Lilliputian creatures
In shells of Saver’s costumes
As squeals of laughter festoons
Boulevard life with
Tiny tintinnabulations
Like baby rattlers
Against the dark
(Maracas for chupacabras)

Timorous parent folk
Encouragement as company,
They Scurry past
Down dim spatial street
In demand of what is given freely
From each and every door
Treat and sweets
Caries galore
All their tricks cached in grins
Of baby teeth
turn candy corn…

Mischievously the meek milk
All Hallows' Eve For
Hallowed be the glee
Even tho' beneath
The web of grey cloudy sky
Life is precious
To deny
The thirsty as it rains

Misery’s loss deep dismal graves,
We should live in celebration
Childlike everyday
Sing and dance
In the October rain
In this wonder
Like rattlers against the dark

Far from wastes of
Hollow wind and pain,
Chilling cries, bleeding eyes,
Undead the unseen
From this cirque city of sins
Offsprings on the strip
Fearless on the boulevard
Treating & tricking
With ole candied lies…

All done up in bright disguise
Happy Halloween.
Revised from All Done Up in Bright Disguise.
Happy Halloween 2019
happenstance collided, coincided, coagulated, et cetera
with hormonally graphic, dumbfounded circumstance
hence, only by a fluke did I manage
to worm winning trust
among Christmas elves and reindeer
vowing confidence
as a confidante sans this generic guy,

would never breach insidious, impious,
illustriously scandalous
tidbits, into a an underground impregnable
air-raid shelter, the motley crue
tied blindfold over my eyes, didst steer
me hermetically sealed
sound (cloud) proof coed bunker,

though escapades emanated noise asper a clunker
subsequently followed by wail of “just dunk her,”
while ensconced (security detail munchkins,
who just so happened tubby queer
minded entrance portal)
only after getting the thumb up signal,

whereat nose pies planted
espionage surveillance devices
the chief head honcho and attendents,
Smoky and the bandits respectively,
magically, andhandily did ap pear

and despite one hundred percent bug free,
a whispered stance opted just to make sure
no unwanted eavesdropper could overhear
plus every participant swore an oath, cuz

any leaked real or “FAKE” information,
would spell imminent demise to be near
the upshot, sans grave emergency
describing clandestine arraignment
involving some rogue elf
(most likely at least two),

and a misbehaving reindeer
(names withheld to avoid any spoiler alert,
plus this entire kit and caboodle
necessary to help Saint Nick

got wind, (and subsequently reined in)
a rave orgiastic party
with orgamsic oohs and aahs
***, drugs and rock and roll,

that a band aided elf(ves)
laced with Pepper Minstix
(anonymously hashtagged
***** and Gomorrah)
sullied pure as the driven snow repute,

when alias Sugarplum Mary (“FAKE NAME”)
detected snorting *******
code named Alabaster Snowball,
while additionally
besmirching her virginity

via ****** cavorting
amidst a Bushy Evergreen
shaking as if frenzied
with feverish boogie woogie flu

which seductive, prurient,
and master baiter friend zeed
(spunky gangnum style) Shinny Upatree
which could slay Wunorse Openslae reputation
as substance abusers,
and *** offenders if not worse.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
.well... d'uh... why would i give up this current freedom of expression, in a medium, that has been so perversely suppressed over the centuries, in the form of, literacy access? what, so now i'll get to bow down to the bog-weeds of computer literate html coders as my new priest-class masters?! so... in the space of a decade... people being allowed the freedom to gain access to literacy, also implieed changing hands with the "masters" of "access" via computer literacy? so... when was it a bad time to state: strenuously... oh but i'm a grammar "****"... all those aeons ago, when the priests held a monopoly on literacy (last century ago), and now, some ******* pleb is going to tell me... that i have to apply myself to literacy, in a lazy: meme / emoji way? one kick to the *** and three smackers to the jaw... and off they went... like a cricket ball, in the direction of a wicket.

******* ******* bagged-up
*******
    ruining "my" *******
jukebox...
   i can't find this one song
i want to listen to,
and it's ******* my head up
like some down syndrome
mental breakdown tantrum
worth of ****!
       ugh...
bottle for the *****...
i mean: shove those *****
down, through,
a turtleneck
and expect a samuel beckett's
existential qualm / angst
via the work akin to watt...
****'s sake!
         pwetty language!
all butterflies and disney
fairies... ******* *******...
   i once stuck a thumb
up my *** after doing
the no. 1, 2 and 3...
wiping my ***,
then taking a shower...
then sitting down on
the throne of thrones...
shoved a thumb up my ***...
how's that?!
  huh?!
       oh yeah...
felt good... really hit the spot...
if you think i'm lying...
i'll repeat it tomorrow
to give you a recap...
                      just once song...
no, nope...
we're done with you finding
new "****" to listen to...
grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreat!
thumbs up, or rather,
thumbs up your own arses...
******* pederasty pushers...
   i really, really,
really didn't give a **** about
all these youtube socio-political
commentators...
i just want the algorithm to
bring back a taste for
exploring music...
clearly: that ain't happening,
so what's new?
            ***** liquor,
pandering for a bunch of
******* elves waiting for
         sigmund freud santa
to call them the naughty
munchkins
      while spanking them...
******'oh plus 12,
minus rudolf...
who... santa does a little
bestiliaty you ******* commoner.
get up to speed with
the project, savvy?!
well... looking at the blocked toilet
of what appears to be hinduism's
"time out" in terms of
reicarnation...
   i.e. so, you're telling me,
there were only ever,
only a limited amount
of people, trans-, moving,
from one zombie body to the next?
i can "almost"
         understand the platonic
trans- "confusion"...
benzene rings only acquire
the para-, meta- and ortho- posits
of attachment groups...
        it's a ******* nightmare,
this, current, reincarnation's
worth of a blocked toilet
   "world of events"
       wortvongeschehen...
blocked toilet of reincarnation,
as if, people are... "waking up"
from their mortal slumber...
trans- to one side,
          right mind, wrong body...
and incels to the other....
      wrong mind, right body...
               or whatever you call someone:
"too old" for their own age...
   it's almost like incels were
given "cheat codes" to the "game"
of life...
   the mind is too old for the body...
an inversion of premature dementia...
the mind has aged,
beyond the host capacity
    of the body...
unlike the Hegelian dialectic...
this is a host / parasite dichotomy...
most sane people have
a parasitic mind, and a host body...
but some...
have a host mind,
   and a "parasitic" body...
               the body itself is
a "parasite" rather than a parasite...
on the grounds that:
at least food is ingested,
   etc.,
                     but there's an
inherent existential bewilderment
as to why...
a mind can be trapped
in a body of a male...
   or a female...
or... as in the case of incels...
a mind of an old man,
is trapped in a body...
that hasn't even achieved its peak
of 40s plateau of
                            exertion;
i think i'm old,
             not that i "think" i'm old...
but i've come to experience
myself of the sort of reaction
associated to an old man,
without an old man's body...
it's no more a normie
standard for "delusion" as if
the normie standard of
fear of taboo associated with
   trans-"gender" current politico...
so...
as i once said:
in a mad world,
who are the sane propagators?
the mad.
the sane are off their rockers
filing suits
to conjure up the cartesian
inversion of sum ergo cogito...
i am liberal,
therefore i think like a liberal (etc.)...

           nietzsche did that part,
but only made a footnote out of it
in human, more than human...
so...
    go figure.

       i actually don't know what
a "liberal" is these days...
hearing: i'm a liberal, i'm a liberal
yadda yadda...
but then hearing the thinking
behind: i'm a liberal, i'm a liberal...
when propositions
were made precursors to
prepositions...
   that'll be the day...

          right now...
i'm in rampage mode...
                i drink, i turn into a juggernaut
when typing...
   neurotic about spelling mistakes...
and, to be honest?
that's what i need:
no room for lying,
and certainly even less for
spelling errors.
Kaira DA Jul 2014
Turn the page...
There's a young boy
that I'd soon meet.
A lad with eyes and a smile
beyond the confines of the street.

Turn the page...
Oh the joys of childhood!
We got along well.
We were neighbors, yes.
But for both of us, we were friends.

Turn the page...
Allow me to tell him,
tell him what I really think.
That being 'cool' doesn't require
being a **** to other kids.

Turn the page...
I see myself in his arms.
A night of eternal treasure.
He was mine and I was his,
Our love was real, our love was pure.

Turn the page...
A tearful goodbye.
A promise made.
We'll survive the distance.
Have faith that 'us' will stay alive.

Turn the page...
A broken heart.
Who were we kidding?
We had to let go
'Us' is now gone.

Turn the page...
We meet again.
Each with a new story to share.
I hear about his life,
My heart begins to stir.

Turn the page...
We took the chance once more.
Again I felt him beside me.
I know I'll savor this feeling
of comfort, love, sublimity.

Turn the page...
He's filled with excitement.
He and I, a family.
I knew then and there
I was truly happy.

Turn the page...
The munchkins have grown,
but we so much older.
The life we've lived together
our love so much fonder.

Turn the page...
I promised not to cry
but I'd rather he left like he did.
For I'd rather bear his absence
than have him feel this pain.

Turn the page...
But there aren't any left.
Nothing real to look back on
Not even time can bring back
Something that never was.

I was always his but I knew that he never was mine.
Shelby Mccrary May 2017
I got swept up by a tornado and landed in the Land of Oz where I met the munchkins after accidentally killing the Wicked Witch of the East

Then Glinda Told me to go to Emerald City after giving me magical shoes so I can get home

And on the way I met a scarecrow who needed a brain and a tin man who needed a heart along with a cowardly lion who needed courage

And after meeting the wizard he sent us on a mission to steal The broom from the Wicked Witch of the West

And when we got in trouble I threw a bucket of water on her to save us from her wickedness and she begins to melt then we took the broom to The Wizard of Oz who happen to not be a wizard at all but really just a man with many tricks up his sleeves But he managed to keep his promises as I click my magic heels together I'm back in Kansas once more Poem By Shelby Kathleen Nightingale
follow the yellow brick road
for it is the path less taken
for it is the path expected to be taken

prostrate and prone
accept our office and entreaties
bless this feeble scarecrow with a mind
bestow upon this rusted tin man a heart
inspire courage in the soul of this cowardly lion

take this wretched runaway home
for i am tired, great wizard
i am tired of running
and forever being protected
from that which i want most

censor my memories
in poppy reveries
i wish to sleep a little longer
if it means not having to cope
with the reality of my disillusion

knuckles cracked and bleeding
from the cold
i am the lone spectator
unwanted, unneeded
they only notice you're gone
if the spotlight shines without
a silhouette of a star

chittering and smiling and
shuffling and laughing
an orchestra's grandeur:
the urgent bowstroke of a violinist
the whimsical striking of chimes
the hollow plea of a clarinet
conceal my uneasy
temperament

observing from afar
like a scarecrow who cannot scare
a lame tin man who cannot love
a pathetic lion who cannot rule
this is not my diem to carpe

i live vicariously
through my simian anxieties
a birdseye view from
the abyss of hell
somewhere over
the rainbow

a silly girl playing make-believe
castles and witches and enchanted forests
nothing more

my noose will be braided of
the whims of my childhood

******* munchkins never
needed dorothy anyways

even he who dwells
in the city of emeralds
is but a man,
and like all men:
vulnerable, and at least
once having felt the desire
the prerogative
to not
exist
inspired by the feeling of derealization and desolation i felt watching our school’s wizard of oz production.
Emily B Dec 2015
the yellow brick broad
i travelled
started with finding my voice
(it had flown away on a Kansas tornado).

Somewhere along the way
I hoped I would stand taller
-- be more honest
but, you know, the munchkins
they always get really nervous.
they worry about the semblance
of sanity

and the wicked witches
and their flying monkeys
are forever concerned
that all their black histories
will be laid raw and bare

and i am not blameless

i have learned that i can be
painfully honest in poetry.
kind folks congratulate me
on my imagination
because they can't imagine my reality

and i have to wonder

about the depth and breadth
of my sincerity
when i hide in plain sight

laying my heart bare
to strangers
is not brave

and i have miles to go

before i can go home again
draft
calm Jan 2018
"What do you wanna be when you grow up?"

Only one word comes to mind.

Yours.

I want to be yours.

I want to come home to see your car driving in ahead of me every night, so you can stick your tongue out at me and mock how I arrived there last.

I want to have little reminders of you running about the place making messes, so I can hug them and kiss their chubby little cheeks and can care for when you're away somewhere. At work, perhaps.

I want to wake up next to you in the middle of the night and make pancakes and go to that park nearby you always loved, even if it meant being tired in the morning when we'd have to do it all again with our little munchkins because obviously we wouldn't exclude them from all our fun.

I want to be scolded by you when I forget to go shopping for groceries and for buying the kids donuts without warning and telling them to keep it a secret, even though it would hurt my feelings a little. Because you would never really hurt me.

I want to pretend not to be crying when those kids turn eighteen and are going to college and we find ourselves suddenly living in a house that's too big and lonely once we realise how old we really are.



I want to wake up in the middle of the night and make pancakes and take a stroll in that park nearby you always loved, even if it meant I'd be tired the next day when I'd wake up to a house far too big for one person but filled with enough loving memories to keep me going.




"What do you wanna be when you grow up?" you asked.





"I dunno."



"A writer, maybe."
Another old piece of mine.
Star BG Nov 2017
I want to go back to childhood days where climbing a tree and singing out of tune was acceptable.

Where I colored out of the lines and held it up proudly for all to compliment.

Where I watched the Wizard Of Oz and dreamed of visiting dancing munchkins and playing in glass slippers.

I want to go back to before I was born where self floated in energies of the universe not to care, not a fear.

But alas if I went back to most early days I would have been asleep.
Eating unhealthy
Not trusting
Not loving self
Living in fear
Believing the news moguls.
Controlled by ego mind.

What I really want....
To go into the Heart and live forever
with the treasures of love.
And all my tomorrows,
here on the planet Earth.
Here consciously awake in oneness.
Inspired by Valsa George . A  Gifted poet thank you
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
if i'm ever going to be a beta
male feminist, i'd start from here:

transgenderism
is demeaning towards
women...

humanize what?

     my godmother
has a... "slightly" masculine
voice...

what about Rod Steward
or Ecclestone?
those munchkins
who are into
Amazonian women,
with fingers
longer than their erections?

you seriously can't
pander to all the nuts and
expect peanut butter
at the end of it...

****'s all jammy by
the end of your
little tirade over
  the Chamberlain-Heimlich
cracking an egg...

transgenderism
demeans women...
   homosexuality was one thing...
but this... this ****
is quiet another.

look: i don't know what
the solution is...
pandering these *******
isn't exactly on my
list... whatever the English
are into...
with their fetish for
the Thai surprise...
      
       i just thought that...
if you're going to go transgender,
like i have done so momentarily,
this normalization...
   demeans women.

now you can say it:
gosh! i'm so off off offended!
sage eugene zumr Oct 2020
forbidden rituals comended sitch of stix
im the britches you place upon
so call your ***** inside the basment ****
take along a hit you snake a song
hate the wrong right flippin tight
hit the mic with a statement strong

convince no other like the fitz
fritz fizzy lickin nips
seconds latent intwixed thats
furry flip burried bitz pix hurry
quick youve made them silent kits

scitz inside the ritz ive eatin too many
all these souls convoyantries
im boyant in the poetry i clip
no butter cup could kick
lick the mother dusk of nix
yall never heard those names

im the sane inside your dame scit
wont claim another aimed in
ill own every tame dinner
like a kitten quickly drips
theirs a moment full of bliss where
no one understands the hungered man

lightning in the thunder can
blunderbus ive underland
wonder what the summer has
another laps im tousk
musk elighhn mine sight
wolf amongs the sheep of fifths

never was it ray who hadent his
i see the shades of gray into fray
this the day admists those munchkins
double dutchin hush hundred
fourth ladder that i summon this
is nothin like a buimpin biztks

dunce i loved the days
other plays hey talk of tay
you get them ditches diggin
quick i know the cards behold
the hardest roll to play im
goin motions slowin till i play
alpha told me stay at bay
i come from places youd have missed
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2022
title - you-yo-you-yo
body -
a *******
BLITZKIREG
of **** accusations...
a sort of a:
well done... another
year of this: prrrrrr-lease;
******* nonces.      502 bad gateway bypass


                      ******* retards...
no... just retards... munchkins...
RE-*******-TARDED!_

           no... the guillotine will not sing for them...
they're too ***** whipped... obedient little craft-merchants
of: no ******* craft...
you ask for a table to sit by... you just might...
get a ****** Picasso painting...
     i wouldn't trust these people when asking
them to... tie their ******* shoelaces...
        RETARDS... plain and simple;
i don't have any Robespierre quotes on me...
but if i did? my tongue would turn into fire!
and my eyes... would turn into cold nuggets of coal...
that would spontaneously catch fire!
i don't have the reflexive strength of arms to combat
these people... that will come later...
i'm laying out the groundwork of disgust...
    you need that dirt first...
          the mind must be impregnated with
the most abominable of surrogacies...
   before... the body reacts... it... takes time...
wait... i haven't given full closure for the French...
these people are... no longer satisfying to be welcome
in being allowed to live among us...
guillotine is perfectly: humane... it's not hanging...
trouble is... i'm thinking this through...
this is no longer some abstract theatrical language...
i'm actually thinking of implementing it...
if not me... then my successor...
not that i don't have the *****...
but because: certain obstacles will not be necessary
or available when the right time comes...
enough! is! enough!
i kept telling people: you spawned this monster...
this monster is not going to: somehow:
"somehow"... die..
    i'm too lean and bothered about the whole scenario...
i admired Robespierre too much...
assez est assez! oculus per oculus!
          das ist es!
                                      enough! nein! niet!
no! nie! but first you need the groundwork!
it's no longer about protecting "our women": these women
are not "our" own... they belong to themselves...
they belong to: refugees welcome...
****...
          they're the freedom they so instilled in themselves
that needs to be respected...
thank god for Turkish prostitutes:
they always tend to know when they're not
getting *****... lucky me...
no... no man's land...
the shifts of time... barricading the past
with an unknown future...
           how... endearing...
  i should conscript in the corpus of either the Janissary
or the Mamluks... for fun...
see Islam the ***-side-up... not being circumcised...
drinking...

for a while i thought i was truly sick from seeing Jeminah
again... not her facce... just her behind...
walking next to another man...
          my face was flushing... my eyes were burning...
my entire body was wrapped in cold-shivers...
but then reality kicked in... two 2 hours on the bicycle
really massaged my **** and intestines...
there was a stealth ****... hiding "somewhere"...
oh man... i feel so relaxed... that it's come out...
it's not love... it's something very biological...
my head is cleared... my face is still burning...
i'm still getting the remains of the cold sweats...
but down below? it's like some mighty strain has been
lifted... i never thought that being so clogged up
could fool you so much...
   an album like Boy Harsher's Careful... and the song:
face the fire... makes it all alright...
   eh... c'est la vie... c'est la vie...
   that's me not raising a foster child... that's me not
paying off her debt and gave her a bad credit score...
almost punched her: or punched her and
her son... i'm glad... it's hard to love the un-loveable...
i'm not perfect... but i'm not that...
   if i was a woman with a child i too could get
a council flat... i don't see how or why i'm this mega insult
to her dating preferences... but that's life...
the impossible is already and most certainly always true:
than how older generations treated the affair:
sure... we'll start poor... our parents might help us...
but we'll work it out... later on... pair-bond like silly swans
over all of life's difficulties...
now? someone has to have it... simply: ******* MADE...
that's so frustrating... no wants to live a life:
work on it... get at something...
people (ahem... women and male scammers)
just want to arrive on the GIVEN... the already MADE...
age disparity... obviously... unless he's some whizz kid
who profited from making an app that in turn
allowed him to profit from... say... the war in Ukraine...
that happens...
         oh thank god... i was starting to think she was
feeling these sensation and i was feeling them back...
thank god it was only a stealth **** that "forgot" to appear
in the day... not even stomach cramps...
flushes on the face, burning eyes... cold sweats all over
the torso... a strange headache... no... it's not love...
silly little you...
it's just a ****** situation: but if that's the way it's going
to be? then... why waste my time?
it's not like i lost weight to look good... better...
i much preferred being slightly invisible...
     too much drama... but the doctor said: you have a choice...
you either lose the excess weight... or...
we'll put you on high-blood-pressure tablets...
since it's a hereditary genetic fault via lineage...
well... what was i going to do? take the pills...
or ******* cycle my shrinking *** into the sunset?
obviously the latter...
      oh man... the first time i lost this much weight
it truly was a vanity project... but then... when you're 18+
you can become this lean long-haired Adonis
and come down to... about 76kg...
     my best so far? 96kg... but i put on more since... winter:
you store more... fatigue kicks in...
you eat more... drink less... blah blah...
plus.... 1=+ is not 35+ years old... it comes with the territory...
of... already having silver hairs on my chest...
my beard and my hair...
            but i'm not going to be repentant: i'm not going
to give some mea culpa: it's my fault...
i'm not a solipsist... in physics... what's that?
there's an equal and opposite reaction to an action...
in a nutshell...
other people do exist... there's what one can grasp as:
the environment...
you interact with it... sometimes you get promoted...
sometimes you get stalled...
    it's just a bit ****... quiet frankly...
         but like i already mentioned... there are... short-term
treatments that... if utilised properly... can extend
the healing value for almost indefinitely...
prostitutes... i see no shame...
  well... if it were SIMPING on the internet... throwing bucks
at digital "women" that don't even strip but sell
tap water... sorry... bath water...
hell... i wouldn't even spend money on strippers...
me want to touch... terrible English:
specifically: me don't want talk... me want touch...
i figured... you're going to be paying for "something" anyway...
the women are not writing books...
for a long time women didn't write books...
they kept their secrets... but now? stupidly enough
they are showcasing them... they're actually teaching men...
well... if there's that much honesty in the air...
when do we inflate those hot air ***** balloons?!
but i'm also somewhat manifesting a suspicion...
western: "intellectual" women: will never hear of a feministic
stoicism, or a feministic cynicism...
unless what? i drink a litre of pink magic juice?
but at least i'm not bothered... i'm not angry... sure...
a little bit frustrated... but frustration is a sort of friction...
you stop rubbing your hands together:
the heat generated is no more...
        at least i'm not the Jack the Ripper case... taking revenge
on prostitutes... it's inverted these days...
prostitutes are a godsend... if i were to be perfectly
honest... i don't women that fear me...
giving cash up-front i can bypass the fear...
and get to the nitty-gritty of a physical interaction...
intellectualism of any sort just went out of the window...
what would i talk about? movies? music?
books? or leftwing propaganda indoctrination?
past dating horrors... i don't feel like talking about
that sort of crap: i just want to ****...
         it always happens... you walk down the street
at night... a woman passes you...
she's all in jitters... nervous... it's like:
you seriously want me to be a killer, don't you?
   after Khedra sent me some of her selflie pictures...
i've been unable to ******* to ****... i sometimes uses it
to get a hard-on but then switch to watching her plush lips...
and that's that... it's weird...the ******...
i can smell her on me... is that because i *******
into her: unprotected?!
            hell... if life is going to be like it has been to me...
what am i going to do? sit back?
"relax"? get angry... no... i'll see the most peaceful outlets
to sooth my "frustrations"...
      i can't be angry with women...
but i also can't stand the spew of Darwinism that only focuses
on the dating game...
  it used to be so much fun...
then... the survival of the fittest stopped
mattering... other factors became invoked...
money... corrupts everything...
that object that dictates the transvaluation of values...
that's money... gold has value...
which fluctuates... because the value of money
fluctuates...
and if money is the res-per-se: the thing in itself
that has the inherent nature of fluctuation...
then... obviously... anything given / put under
a monetary standard is also going to fluctuate...
               along with the fluctuations of money...
            you can't really chance trans-valuate the existence
of stones... unless they're marble... etc.
what can't you trans-valuate? clouds?
can't invest in clouds... to stop the rains...
can't trans-value mountains: or the seas...
they're not going anywhere...
            but i can trans-valuate ***...
i can say: better me going for an hour of raw
**** sapiens funs... than...
coughing up too much for false dates and not getting
what i want... just eating too much...
and paying for two people...
i just did a trans-valuation...
trans-evaluation...
                  well... no one was killed... big +...
that plus is not big enough... but it's supposed to be a
BIG +...
  any hurt parties? do, i care?
right now... i don't care... no one cared prior...
i'm not going to start caring now...
i care that my frustration friction didn't make me ****
someone... i didn't steal anything...
lucky me... trickle of time: immemorial...
            it's good to sometimes: forget... almost... no...
not almost... absolutely EVERYTHING....
forget the idea that there might be a cinema.
jude Mar 2021
you still call me many names
a *******
ani
*****
babes
*****
even cheeky munchkins
they're things you call all your friends.

but i just want to be your darling once again.
The application allows adaption as

the bears bare no
bearance

The cows cringed coraled

down Durbin's Dude Delightful Deli

Every effort evaporated

forthright fast and furious was the fanale

Gone , as the greats grotesquely go

Hath Hell's halcyon held

in it's ignition of innovation

Just juxtaposition of jabberizations

Klinging like Klingons kasting kats

Longing for living listeners

of the many mangled munchkins

never to be notched near nor never

on or over the Overton Overpass

Past the principal part of Paradise

Quickly and quaint the quid goes pro quo

releasing the realization that reality rankly reeks

So service the sublime situation succintly

The truth turns to trash

Undercover the unwarranteed walk
without witness

Vaguely the vagabons vacated the vacuous vagaries

without whispering wantom wishes

as Xenophobic xenophytes xeroticize

young yanks from Yakima

Zestily zeroed in on the zagged zipper

— The End —