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Briar Rose Dec 2013
Emerging from the darkness,
Your face is encircled with stars of Orion.
Fog surrounding your silhouette.
Overwhelming force field separating
My aura from yours.
Walk a fine street of plated gold,
Deploring plastic cores,
and camera stores.
Flying fast,
Screaming at the past.
Back down from the galaxy.
I scream with ecstasy;
"I am Shakespearean!
I am Freudian!"
You are Napolean,
King Henry and Led Zeppelin!"
Crash, smash, crack myself open.
Electromagnetic magnetism.
My mind at chrysalis , medicated , artificially focused and at times detached altogether from societies interpretations......
I've been reduced from psychopath to thespian out of the fear of never being allowed to leave St. Helena ! The high court did not rule in my favor, therefore banished from society , to live toil and die in a foreign land ! Erased from the history books , my name removed from public architecture , forbidden to be mentioned in the streets of my beloved city resting upon the Appalachian hillside ! Oh Dahlonega ! Oh Dahlonega ! My Dahlonega !
Copyright January 3 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
MJ Aug 2013
I want to lose two pairs of black glasses and my shoes
I want to tell the delivery boy that I don’t care how much change I get back
I want to ice the back deck and wet the chairs
I want to break a futon; feel taco-like
I want to paint my body, my friends body
I want to construct a bed in the laundry room with silk sheets
I want to neglect the shower for three days
I want to climb a roof and get lost in a corn maze
I want to leave my personal belongings in a plastic bag
I want to walk alone two miles to get a hot dog and meet a ***

we want to step in leaking toilet water
we want to play hide and seek in a dark house, discover an attic
we want to drink veggie burgers and wash them down with milk
we want to find a hat for a pickle and for one day wear only vests
we want to tailgate for napolean dynamite
we want to stay up late sitting on the flip side of windowsills
we want to spill everything and learn how to jump cars

they want to save taco bells hot sauce in paper bags
they want to build a fort with a closet door and some hooks
they want to dance all night, create a star shape with their legs
they want to “whod I come with? Ladies…!” just like rosie the riveter
they want to walk around telling the trees to be quiet
they want to move a couch to the from lawn and reside

*-MJS
JM May 2014
I smell *** everywhere I go.
In the air,
On cafe counters,
At bus stops and on sidewalks.

I taste it in your coy smiles
and backward glances
while he wasn't looking.
Sand and salty skin,
lips with no teeth behind them.
Blood rushes and swollen parts.

I know I will ruin you
from the inside out.
This is how cancer feels.
Love isn't always soft as sighs,
slow and careful cobweb touches.
Sometimes it's mindfucks,
riding crops and hematoma.
Ask napolean about the pyramids
and you will hear the
words of a true ******.

These words, just cockroach
legs swarming around the rotting
chicken bones underneath
your stained mattress,
ancient and ugly,
feeding,
defiling,
consuming.

This now we are sharing,
my now of writing,
your now of reading,
are they the same?



Another day alone
as I decay into
a great big
pile
of nothing
and
somewhere
out there
is a ****
that will
finally
make me
happy.
This now..

There is something more to this...
Tanzim Ahmed Jan 2019
In 1852, an artist named Luc Maspero threw himself from the fourth floor of a Parisian hotel
Leaving a suicide note that read: "for years I have grappled desperately with her smile,
I prefer to die."

Then in 1910, one enamored fan
came before her solely to shoot himself
As he looked upon her Napolean crushed ******* her.
She has broken a lot of heart
Men have died loving her.

Last week Mona Lisa walked out of her frame
And out of the Louvre Museum
Straight to the terrace of the tallest builiding of Paris and cried.

The world is smudged with oil now
Paris streets smell of smoke and warm colours.
My mother knows nothing about mona lisa
And neither does my father.

But he steals some of the colour from mona lisa's cheeks
And put them across my mother's everytime he pronounces her name
Like it is the only word his tongue has ever known,
Like it is the only colour his eyes have ever seen.

Somedays, he steals stars from Gogh's starry night.
"A good lover is a good thief" he says.

I wonder probably the Italian man who stole Mona Lisa wanted to put some colour across his wife's cheeks
Or he just wanted to steal that smile.

Maybe his wife had left him
Or yellowed
Or died

Maybe his wife was a bad lover
And he, a good thief.

Maybe his wife was a good lover
And he, a bad thief
Who went gaga over Lisa.

What I want to say is,
This poem is standing on the fourth floor,
Of the same Parisian hotel,
With a suicide note in one hand
Smuged with oil and warm colours, And pistol in other.

This poem is the terrace of the tallest building of Paris.
This poem is Mona Lisa crying at 3am uncolouring herself while trying to forget French
And a thief trying to rob the colours and stars,
And a half asleep world smudged with oil and smoke

Which is to say,
This poem is a poor attempt to be everything,
But anything about you
Wondering what would be the first sentence of Mona Lisa if she ever walks out

Would it be,
"Where is Vinci?"
Or, "I wish
To run away?"
Well, we all probably hear voices inside,
these days,
so here's a fun game
to play with your voices,
what you could do
is to talk to them
and listen to their answers,
and goof around with them,
and play with them,
and write down
what they say,
and stuff like that,
but just keep in mind
the simple idea
that they are not exactly real
and that what they say
is not exactly true
or not exactly false,
and have fun with them,
so then
you're not crazy,
you're just fooling around
having fun,
so try talking to Napolean
or Buddha or somebody like that
and have fun.
Amen!
Myrrdin Aug 2018
I weigh 1/4 of a blue whales heart
I am as tall as Napolean Bonaparte
I am as old as Oprah's Book Club
When I do not like myself
I think of these things
And suddenly, I look very different.
Tanzim Ahmed Jan 2019
In 1852, an artist named Luc Maspero threw himself from the fourth floor of a Parisian hotel
Leaving a suicide note that read: "for years I have grappled desperately with her smile,
I prefer to die."

Then in 1910, one enamored fan
came before her solely to shoot himself
As he looked upon her Napolean crushed ******* her.
She has broken a lot of heart
Men have died loving her.

Last week Mona Lisa walked out of her frame
And out of the Louvre Museum
Straight to the terrace of the tallest builiding of Paris and cried.

The world is smudged with oil now
Paris streets smell of smoke and warm colours.
My mother knows nothing about mona lisa
And neither does my father.

But he steals some of the colour from mona lisa's cheeks
And put them across my mother's everytime he pronounces her name
Like it is the only word his tongue has ever known,
Like it is the only colour his eyes have ever seen.

Somedays, he steals stars from Gogh's starry night.
"A good lover is a good thief" he says.

I wonder probably the Italian man who stole Mona Lisa wanted to put some colour across his wife's cheeks
Or he just wanted to steal that smile.

Maybe his wife had left him
Or yellowed
Or died

Maybe his wife was a bad lover
And he, a good thief.

Maybe his wife was a good lover
And he, a bad thief
Who went gaga over Lisa.

What I want to say is,
This poem is standing on the fourth floor,
Of the same Parisian hotel,
With a suicide note in one hand
Smuged with oil and warm colours, And pistol in other.

This poem is the terrace of the tallest building of Paris.
This poem is Mona Lisa crying at 3am uncolouring herself while trying to forget French
And a thief trying to rob the colours and stars,
And a half asleep world smudged with oil and smoke

Which is to say,
This poem is a poor attempt to be everything,
But anything about you
Wondering what would be the first sentence of Mona Lisa if she ever walks out

Would it be,
"Where is Vinci?"
Or, "I wish
To run away?"
Michael John Jun 2021
i am inspired
by time and
by the sparrows

i am inspired by
bugs
(i can not find)

-also communal
desire
fire

the power of
minds
napolean coste

trees
afternoon tea
dostoyevski

the pantheistic
nature of
the universe

polite people
some smile
miles

and miles
the sky
you and i

i am inspired
by leonard cohen
by bill and ben

the beginning
the end
and the little

bit betwixt
twix
cold milk

the word
ilk
elk

and whelks
kindness
the same

differences
obscure
references

i am inspired by
knowledge
(mahap,

my lack
there of)
the edges

of stuff
love
(but not

doughnuts)
snowdrifts
if,buts

and maybe
aunty mary
getting on

inspiration
never ending
never..
ZACK GRAM Oct 2023
look in the mirror see what appears its clear im the ferror i shed a tear the end is near im not from here i was born in a single digit year 10k years take it from a peer dear my jet leer sirens going off terror fear lie an smoke look in the mirror

blood on my hands youre ******* sick its evident the past is pretence force more powerful then the presidents im **** near napolean an the earth my ship theres a twist in my hips when i unload this **** on everyone bare witness an return my lifeline to sanctions

im alive the dawning of a new beginning  you shall never walk over me with illuminatic presentations we will make you jews extinct an no bomb shall ever hold me prisoner in my babylon the world is in debt

you made me i give you birth you are saved its ok bless us we will not fail again a master plan across the holy lands extinguisher on my wrist bish best be disciplined or its detention

boss
hilter cree is alive an im coming for your head
Repost
Qualyxian Quest Apr 2023
I'm comin' up on 20,000 poems
How did I do it?
No job for a few years now
Plenty of time to write

Moon still aglow
Fire in my heart
Napolean Blown Apart
2 green lights

Just little poems
3 13 17
The need to go down grateful
Need to go down fight

Susan Darlene Meek
Give her what she seeks
Speak, memory, speak
Sor Juana's mystic flight

               Toledo!
reverence and water for each of our daughters
our sons are beyond our command
our souls get out of hand and require
our patient attention to bring back the necessary completion
if you wish to become a poet then stop
stealing your words from others
start to observe the meeting point of nothing
relish in imperfection and you’ll become as sweet as honey
so come again and we will make our journey
to the streets, to the ****-holes and the hovels
in the cornfields
rishis greet you with a bow
so tropical ideals seem irrelevant now
somehow you are lost
i can sense it by the way you toss your hair back
you are anxious and i am smiling at your negligent cough
stroll along the boulevard looking for apples
rest in the stores that don’t seem too commercial
i have stretched my body now i stretch my mind
i have lost my love but she will return
i am confident as a god
i am as suspicious as a pirate
i am grumpy as a hungry man
without any brandy
i am landed wealth
i am the aristocrat's fate
i am napolean’s secretary
i am the human race
vehicles of passion lead to disaster
if you read Siddhartha you will know the answer
to the young person’s nightmare
what to do with time that repeats
all the ways which we have lost our minds
i hate to break it to you but the world is a mess
even if you do your best
you're still liable to witness suffering
and being a part of a community may be the answer
but for somebody
other people’s company is truly hell
Ekym Reyotem Mar 2020
And here at the end,
what am I left with?
Failures.
Too many to count.
And although they might not mean anything to you,
for me they are enough.
They have to be.
Because who would I be without them?
What would I have without them?
What proof would there be to show that I ever gave a ****** about any one or anything?
Without this trail of disasters,
there wouldn't be a shred of evidence to prove that I was even here,
or ever tried to do anything at all..

My failures are my legacy.
And myfailures are just as important to me, as your successes are to you.

I am a complete failure.
I have never succeeded at any thing I have ever set out to do.
I am not a failure because I was too scared to try.
I tried.
I didn't pi$$ it all away.
I didn't drink it,
snort it,
or smoke it all up.
I am left with nothing for the best of reasons.
My only vices were family, loyalties, and love.
Honor, romance, and integrity.
I never cared about about anything else.
I did what  was right, over what was easy.
I chose the honorable,
over what was safe.

Which makes what I am left with, these "failures" of mine, it makes them the most precious things I will ever have.
It's not so much that I failed, it's what I failed at.
I failed at all of those things that were well worth the risks.  

These precious disappointment's.
Without them I wouldn't have a thing to show for any of this.
Not even a whisper of credit or gratitude from the people who I did it all for, and ended up loosing right along with everything else.

My flounders are testaments to my character.
Look to them for reference.
See how with each commitment & through each endeavor,
I never gave up because of their difficulties.
The more I would lose, the harder I would try.
And the harder I would try, the more I would loose.
And on, and on,
Until there was nothing left.

My failures are my great accomplishments.
They are footprints of my life's purpose in this world.
Napolean failed.
Ahab failed against The Whale.


Chasing their passions, while trying to fulfill their own dreams and the dreams of those who surrounded them.

Sometimes, for the right reasons, failures can be what makes a man great and remembered.

So This big heaping pile of $hit of a life of mine, is proof positive that I am not some self-centered, self-serving son of a b¡tch.
And have never steered this ship with out anything but your best interest behind the helm..
And when I look around out there
at the vanity,
the ego,
and self-centeredness,
I consider the alternative.
And I would much rather be a failure.
I embrace it because it is the truth of who and what I am.
And at least I know who I am, and that is a'lot more than most of you can say, or are willing to face.
While all you do is hide behind the best things you can find in your lives.
You surround your vulnerabilities with the most temporary things and hide out in snapshots of the most temporary moments.
And you think you can fool the rest of the world, just like you have fooled yourselves with such a common and carbon copied fantasy.

While you sit there trying to prove your invincibility,
I'll be standing right here bleeding,
with both feet firmly planted in reality,
being exactly who I really am.
And although I may be unhappy,
I am still grateful.
And my gratitude outweighs my sorrow.

Grateful that I can see myself and the the world around me for what we really are.
And when I die, I will die awake, and fully aware of the debt I owe for such clarity.

So by all means,
judge me by my losses, I implore you.
and don't forget to judge me by the ***** I had enough to try in the first place,
and for possessing the stones enough to admit to the truth of it all afterwards:

And If given the chance,
I would do it all over again.
All of it.
Because every bit of it was worth the shot.
Because trying to do those things made me feel like more of a man than anything else I had ever done,
and believe me, I have done it all.
They were the realest things I could have ever set out to do.
They made me feel alive trying to do them,
trying to repair them,
Trying to hold them up under the crushing weight of the burden of their ingratitude, and yours.
They were the greatest thing's I have ever "Never" done.
And I thank God for the opportunity he gave me to do them, and the sense enough to recognize their importance.
And I apologize to Him for being Stupid enough to try and do any of it without including Him,
That is the ONLY thing I would do differently.
But I won't apologize for anything else.
Or to anyone else either.

Sincerely...
Me-a natural born loser.🖕
   & still
Immovable-
Michael John May 2020
letter from spain
i know that you two
have all elation!?
i hope your not
hitting your
head too much
i do
i catch my toe
in my music stand
and yesterday i lost
my glasses
it is good policy
to stay put
bathing is quite
interesting
cockroaches are
becoming abundant
spelling is patchy
i curse days
of excess
thankfully
i cant remember
now i like
moderation
sweet sense
sweet mary jane
on occasion
a cup of tetleys
and love song
bide like the
andalucian
the dear little swallow
circle the agave
the butterflies ******>numerous
no pollution
o the sparrows
the cacti are red
diamond shines
forth
i wake at sparrow
****
with a galloping
heart
soul seekers
feed everyone
i tried a new coffee to
day
i read either
whiskey galore or
the fall of the house
of usher
i keep a poetry
diary
a fine short story
writer john mcgahern
collected stories
and in a napolean
coste state of being
stare at the sea..
Qualyxian Quest May 2021
The darkness has its place
Hidden in the heart

It is not always evil
Napolean Blown Apart

I wait and watch and wonder
I choose my three strong bows

The forest is primeval
The wind it whispers woes

                  Overthrows!
Qualyxian Quest Apr 2021
The Americans are racists
Darkness in their hearts

The Count of Monte Cristo
Not Napolean Bonaparte

No professional victims
Just poems in the night

Memories of train
Hopeless mystic flight

Things Not Seen
Things won't work out right

           Hence, our plight.
Qualyxian Quest Mar 2021
Writers leave behind their words
The Artist in her art

Do you fear to be forgotten
When you too depart?

J'aime Simone Weil
Not Napolean Bonaparte

The silence is eternal
Does the Eternal have a heart?
Abeer Mar 31
David Gilmour's guitar
Sylvia's pen
Houdini's hat
Feymann's bongos
Elliott's beanie
Cobain's *******
Karpov's mind
Hozier's hair
Tolkien's genius
Bragg's youth
Greenwood's innocence
Dostoevsky's demon's nihilism
Napolean's Europe
Myself maybe.
Qualyxian Quest Nov 2020
The wordly are the least forgiving
The climb is for the cruel

I still admire Pascal
I see no need to duel

But who will understand?
Who knows the hidden heart?

Not the American Empire.
Not Napolean Blownapart.

We all fish, all wish
For a fresh start.
Qualyxian Quest Sep 2022
Continual disorder
Things Fall Apart
Marguerite Porete
Napolean Blown Apart

Greece was the Sea
Blue and green and fire
She was to me
As I was to desire

Kyoto was quiet
I remember the train station
Homecoming dress
Bipolar elevation

53 and falling
Probably not much more
Extinction is forever
Verona, not Elsinore

             4044
Qualyxian Quest Mar 2023
Prayers for Matthew Shadle
Laozi, David Tracy, Whoa!
Leaving the University
Wisdom as you go

Quietly alone
Cometh NCAA
How I wish 1 minute!
Basketball to play

Tired, trouble sleeping
Anxiety attacks
Napolean Blown Apart
George W. destroyed Iraq

Animated movies
Bangkok 2049
Delicious noodle soup
I hope you treat me kind

       Seek. Meek. Find.
Qualyxian Quest Mar 2023
Journalists need to take classes
In poetry, literature, Asian art
Our newspapers of record quite bad
Just ask Napolean Blown Apart

I hold out hope for the Guardian
My uncle reads the Toledo Blade
Wiv and wet wiv
Next time you get weighed

John Denver was a German nature mystic
Rocky Mountain Higher
To her I would Sweet Surrender
Long song object of my desire

Transient human glory
Fading fast and fading faster
Un pequito short story
Turns your face to Alabaster

   Bruce calls Chuck Berry the Master.
Qualyxian Quest Jun 2020
Reading of Beethoven
But remembering Mozart

American music
And American go-karts

I in Vienna
St. Stephansdom ghost art

Paris is for lovers
Not Napolean Blownapart

    The Incredibles.
Qualyxian Quest Jan 2023
Quite a few right wing racist hater Jews
In these United States
Wolfowitz, Shapiro, AIPAC
The hour is getting late

Boston is icy in winter
The Museum of Fine Arts
The Count of Monte Cristo
Not Napolean Blown Apart

Lebanese bread in Jerusalem
Korean Kim Chi in Tokyo
Sweetly Swedish summer
Kamakura snow

     Ignorant Americans: they Overflow.
Qualyxian Quest Feb 2023
Desantis says he'll take the arrows
So give him poison darts
I like Dash Incredible
Not Napolean Blown Apart

Seminole resistance
All through Florida State
She persisted with persistence
Must have been something she ate

Vegetarian burritos
Sometimes a tuna sub
I like it Jersey Mike's way
She and I talk in the tub

Salvador Dali Museum
Dylan sings of Key West
My fingers in her ...
My mouth upon her breast

           You know the rest ...
Qualyxian Quest Feb 2023
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
Is really good for Art
Just ask Claude Monet
Not Napolean Blown Apart

I went to Giverny
Gave the garden Cary's ashes
When she wore no makeup
O God! Those eyelashes

Dublin, Wendy Darling
Gethsemani Trappist Abbey
Episcopal is Catholic Lite
Not too shabby!!!

         Long live Mr. Keating...
Qualyxian Quest Dec 2022
SJ
Myths often last for a very long time
But then things fall apart
I like Miles Morales
More than Napolean Blown Apart

Water can wear out rock
Drip drip drop tick tock
I see her in the distance
She knows my love of Spock

I write because I ...
She said: You like the arts
Her body is curves and hair
His body is gout and farts

I'll disappear - not too long
Rhymin' Simon song
Silence in mi familia
Alex and I ping pong

George Hunt. Hopkins. Walter Ong.
Qualyxian Quest Jul 2021
I wrote her when I was manic
Probably not so smart

The sadness, then the panic
The postcards, stamps, and art

I like French cathedrals
Not Napolean Blown Apart

Every day a failure
Every day a brand new start

                    37.
Qualyxian Quest Aug 2021
Form is Emptiness
Emptiness is Form
The reasons of the heart

I like Mr. Incredible
Not Napolean Blown Apart

Form is Emptiness
Emptiness is Form
My heart within me burns

He has had a vision
Tai Lung will return

Tai Lung will return.
Michael John Dec 2023
the moment-
wetting my pants
or sat in a cold bath

while the birds laugh..
am i genghis khan?
or napolean?

today..
tomorrow..
-goes on..
Qualyxian Quest Jan 2021
Larry Bird is not afraid of death
Larry Legend how I envy

Anxiety in my breath
Nowhere safe to send me

Yes, I've been to Boston
Museum of Fine Arts

Icy Charles River
Oh those 80s in my heart!

Que sera sera
but not Napolean Bonaparte
Qualyxian Quest Aug 2021
Poetry perhaps can't do much
But can it touch a human heart?

Some say humans just animals
Some say humans are art

I say both by my troth!
Not Napolean Blown Apart

When in France, I didn't dance
Didn't sing. Didn't ****.

Just stared at Sacre Couer
Now I eat my almond ****

Merci, Merci - maybe meant to be
French traveller. Irish dart.
Michael John Jan 8
a mad man thinks every one
is mad
and i must admit lily
i fit the bill exactly
(quietly,
not for me
a traffic cone upon
the noggin
screaming and shouting
with finger pointed-no)..

i see the futility
(i maybe napolean but
who do i think i am?!)
i would say that-
what of reality?

lily says is nt that for
which dance and poetry
is for-look!
an effing butterfly..?!
Qualyxian Quest May 2023
My poems are better than I am
Life is harder than art
I like Dash Incredible
More than Napolean Blown Apart

Once I was a teacher
Tried to do my best
Mostly by the book
Blue shirt, tie, and vest

Wrote to Carl Hiaasen
The Green Flash is real!
If she were in my arms
Softly the reveal

Books have been companions
Tolkien, Melville, Poe
Seattle in the summer!
A Raven told me so

       Yoko yo yo!
Qualyxian Quest Jul 2020
Dylan speaking of burn out
But then the fire starts

The problem in America today
Racist inhuman hearts

I admire Albert Camus
But not Napolean Bonaparte

To hit the hidden bullseye
You have to throw the dart
Qualyxian Quest Apr 2021
I do not have to do it all
I just have to do my part

I liked teaching English
I like music and arts

Always kind of embarrassed
When in public I did ****

Simone Weil forever!
Not Napolean Bonaparte

                
              dailiness
Qualyxian Quest May 2020
The eyes of the heart
Mr. Incredible vs. Napolean Blownapart
           what we always need ...


                           a fresh start

— The End —