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Passius Ashe Jul 2015
nebulous mercury, or old neb as friendly namesome, was a longtime salty marner.

one day he was seasonally easing along with the flotsam and jetsons

when there appeared before his worn and weary orbs a macabre confoundment,

the vastly ghastly countenance of a slithering slimy see servant,

a critter that rose from the sea and had to hunch over so as not to break the sky,

the kind of monstrosity you only see in miffs.

he began to wrap his protuberances and testicles around the clig as to make repast. 

ohh, dreadful tingers draggled forlorn! 

shunned and electrolytical he was, old neb, awash in gloombulches and grovel gullies.

but then old neb snapped to! "Not my chipper clig you don't!" he charged allowed as he fingled forth in fury!

the battle eschewed in the stub of legends. old neb will ever be memorial for what he did that day.

to this very day, indeed up to this very moment right now, even chipper cligs flying scallion bones cut him a big bertha,

such is the perspective they feel for him

no hobo, but a ****** chum.
WickedHope Dec 2014
WITH CONTRIBUTIONS FROM MULTIPLE POETS

You don't cut, your wrists are fine.
          If I was dumb enough to cut my wrists I'd have been caught by now.
You're not anorexic, I've seen you eat.
          How much, really?
You're not depressed, you smile all the time.
          Yeah, because acting and lying aren't things.
     ~
WickedHope

You can't have anxiety, you talk to so many people.
          Its funny how you see me talking, but don't see the panic attacks.
     ~
aesha nisar

You have a good life. There's no reason to be sad.
          You're part of the reason why I'm depressed.
     ~
Phoenix

You're not angry, you haven't raised your voice or yelled.
          Maybe the voices yelling in my head are so loud I can't do anything
          but focus on keeping them quiet.
You're not scarred from your past, you act normal.
          If normal is crying for hours at night till tears can't come anymore
          and apathy sets in, then yes I'm quite normal.
     ~
Stardust

You are so lucky, it's so easy for you to be good at what you do.
          You don't see the intensity of doubt and countless hours of anxiety to
          get things to the point they're not too embarrassing to show someone.
     ~
PrttyBrd

You're fine. You aren't depressed, just really sad.
          If I'm not depressed, just sad, then why am I here everyday?
          Why am I here crying to you when I should be out, living?
     ~
Tiffany Smith

God I swear every guy you meet online just wants to bone you.
          You say that like its a good thing. All I want is someone I can trust,
          someone I can rely on, not someone who wants to bone me.
You have boyfriends from everywhere, india, japan, china...
          I have none. These are only friends, the only one I want is you.
Your so strong.
          Yea, 'cause going home to cry in a corner, then stuffing my face with ice
          cream while watching sad anime is totally legit.
Are you okay?
          No I'm not ok. I just want to punch both your eyes out, then cuddle with
          you and make out with your face. Then maybe I'll just take a long break
          to bawl my eyes out and get rid of all evidence, all but the telltale clue of
          how swollen my eyes are
     ~
Creep that Loved You

Come on. You can go to school. You're not sick.
          Physically, no. Now mentally...
Why are you so good at everything?
          That's because you don't bother to look deeper.
You look fine.
          Oh yeah, the red eyes and dark circles just add to my beauty.
I love you.
          Yeah, it looked like it when you were 'out' with your 'friends.'
     ~
maha salman

You're so resilient. You've been through so much pain, yet here you are living strong.
          That's because every time someone says, are you OK? I just smile and
          say I'm fine. But none of them can hear the screaming in my brain saying
          I should just die.
You're so beautiful.
          No.... The smile is fake, powder covers the circles under my eyes,
          mascara makes my eyes look bright and lip stick covers the bite marks
          on my lips from where I chew through them when I'm anxious, or
          panicking, or being asked questions. You would be repulsed by the
          beast underneath.
You're such a talented poet.
          If writing down my deepest darkest dreams, nightmares, fantasies and
          memories, make me a good poet, then yes. But all I write is the thoughts
          that scream to come out or my head will explode.
     ~
The Girl Who Loved You

You have never felt real pain, you are a man not a wuss.
          The worst pain hits you in the heart not in the head... Whats a man
          without pride, whats a man without a name?
Get over her bro, shes just one girl.
          One girl that I chose to love out of the 7 billion other people in the
          world.
Open up your heart to new people new things.
          What's the point in meeting people, when in the end they all just leave?
You aren't alone.
          I'm not alone? You lie through your teeth, where where you when I sold
          my soul to the devil and condemned myself to the abyss?
We are proud of you always, son.
          Words I've never heard, just the echoes of my parents inside my head.
You live a great life.
          That's not the message the untouched prescribed sleeping pills and           ecstasy portray.
     ~
Tapiwa Gerald Mateko

You're so patient.
          On the outside yes, in the recesses of my mind I'm screaming my
          head off... waiting for something that will never happen.
     ~
Julian Pacheco

Who cares about the others? You're not like them you're different.
          What if I don't want to be different? What If I want to curl up into a
          ball and pretend I don't think I'm failing you every moment of the day.
Life's not fair.
          Well maybe it's time it should be. Maybe it's time for us to stop
          thinking that we deserve more because that's all we've ever known.
          Maybe it's our job to MAKE life fair.
Forget it, move on.
          I don't want to. Shouldn't everyone be able to hold onto the things they
          hold close? If they were holding it close it meant something and if it
          meant something good then it's worth fighting for.
Shut up.
          No. This time I won't be quiet because I sit here and I listen to what you
          say every day; you treat whoever you want however you want and that
          is not your right. Everyone has an opinion. I want to share mine.
     ~
Forgotten Dreams

You're so confident.
          Only because you do not see the pain and turmoil it causes me
          inside, and the sores inside my cheeks to keep from crying.
Why are you shaking? It's not even cold.
          Because I'm scared, scared of scenarios untrue.
~
Makayla

You're not sad, you look so happy.
          Tell that to the guys who keep pointing all my flaws, and laughing
          about it, leaving me speechless because I have nothing to say in return.
You're such a good writer.
          And look how handy that is, won't ever shut them up for good.
You still have so much to live for.
          To keep living like this, might be considered anything but living. You're
          all too perfect for this world, but you know what? My body can't keep
          living in a different place my soul is.
     ~
A Sad Sam

Chill out man, it's just a couple people.
          To me, three people is like three thousand people. Their voices circulate
          in my head and drive me crazy until I can't help but break down. You're
          right, I should definitely just chill out because I don't know anything
          about the disorder that brings a constant burden to my days.
Why are you so antisocial? Get off the computer and do something productive for once
          Try the fact that everybody that surrounds me makes me feel like the life
          I live isn't worth living and the comfort of understand people on the
          internet keeps me sane.
You're so lazy.
          Don't you dare start on that, because every ******* day I wake up and
          breathe despite my lungs collapsing in on themselves from all the
          pressure people give me, and every single day I do the work I'm told to
          do and I'm trying my hardest but I'm fighting a war with myself and it
          takes up every ounce of energy I have left. Don't you dare tell me that
          I'm lazy when every day I take all the strength I have to keep on living.
     ~
Emma Tauzell

They had never met, didn’t know each other’s name --
          Yet their eyes were already making love.
     ~
Deborah

You can't really love someone you've never met.
          He's the first thing on my mind when I open my eyes, the last
          thing I think about before I go to sleep, he's in my thoughts all
          the moments in between, his face takes away the nightmares and
          fills all my dreams. How is this not love?
     ~
Just Melz

Just forget about her and move on.
          How am I supposed to do that, when all I see is her and her
          precious qualities I so dearly love in every girl I talk to?
          Forgetting is a lot harder to do than finding.
     ~
Neb Dnarts
Feel free to add to this in the comments,
and I'll tac it on the end with credits to your screen name.
Rollie Rathburn Apr 2019
While capable of achieving abstract thought of the highest order, the human brain tends to function best when compartmentalizing data into manageable pieces. For example, the state in which one resides is useful in a macro view of geolocation, but largely useless when it comes to ordering a pizza. As such, our species developed streets, postal codes, cardinal directions, and a whole host of determining factors to describe your home with enough clarity to ensure your disc of cheesy goodness arrives safe and sound.

By this same token, we break down and discuss music. For the most part, all humans can say that they enjoy music to some degree or another.  But for those whose passion extends beyond using the radio for background noise, there’s a point where the specificities of what we absorb aurally merges with part of our socio-cultural identity. Whether this is reflected in your sudden urge to wear strapped sandals and listen to Grateful Dead live bootlegs while slack-lining or constantly refreshing a subreddit so you know which warehouse space is hosting a tech-house set until dawn, the most passionate amongst us eventually become that which we absorb. These things become fractalized versions of ourselves. After all, someone who has never had their heart broken probably won’t appreciate Elliot Smith as much as the rest of us.

It is on the fringes of these musical personalities that we find *******. Combining the most aggressive tendencies of metal with the politics and personality of street punk, ******* is an amalgam of all things angry. Exhibiting a neb-tribalism not often seen in other subsets of music, ******* “kids” (Kids can be used to define ages ranging from 13 to 45 depending on context) understand that a sweaty basement filled with people pummeling one another will never become a societal norm. And they revel in the misanthropy.

However, this is not to say that ******* kids are fueled only by rage. From it’s inception in punk scene during the late 1970’s, the entire point of ******* has been to create a community dedicated to supporting one another during our darkest times. Sure that occasionally means punching your friend in the head, but that’s only because we haven’t figured out how to punch the geo-political turmoil of Earth in the head just yet.

Whether extolling the virtues of veganism, Straight Edge, ecocriticism, economic inequality, anti-racist and anti-racist movements, or simply just talking about how alone we can feel inside of our own heads, ******* at it’s best seeks to improve the space husk we’re all floating around on. By virtue of these lofty goals, ******* swiftly takes on a communal nature due to the common belief that we are all united against an existence which does not reflect us. Rob Lind said it best: “*******’s not much. But for some of us, it’s all we’ve got.”

Then one clear morning in December, my father died. And suddenly ******* was all I had left.

Obviously, I still had my siblings and friends. But after all, the ethos of ******* always managed to echo everything my father taught me to believe. Whether that be standing up for someone getting picked on because they’re different, refusing to place trust in authority, or rallying all the other lost souls and building your own society two steps to the left of the mainstream.

So, as an autopsy was being performed to ensure the skin, organs, and long bones of Robert Rathburn’s arms were harvested for donors, I stood in the alleyway of the Nile Theater listening to the bass reverberate through the asphalt as Iniquity, Beg For Life, Troubled, No Altars, and Iron Curtain played to a packed basement below.

Admittedly, this was a show I was supposed to be reviewing, and this piece was also due months ago. However, my time was instead spent shaking hands and hugging people I’ve spent the better part of 20 years building a small, fractured, but loving community with. At the end of the day, I suppose that’s all ******* has ever and should ever be about. Communally channeling the hurt and anger into fists and screams until it stings a little less and the emptiness of the world wanes ever so slightly.
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Debra A Baugh Jun 2012
flipping through pages of his mind,
caressing unspoken quotes; I whisper
slang of lust in his ear, ******* his big
ego to the bottom of his page, while his
drool trickles between breast; uttering
syllable after syllable as I re-write his script.

his hardness speaks fluently, inking
parchment with liquid tipped quill, oh! the
thrill as I bend his will, to fluidly flow; dipping
in inkwell of thoughts, penning desires and
want in liquid diatribe of lustful pleasures; like
a moth to flame flickering, as I lick verbs in
hunger to peruse his re-written script;
gripping sheeted pages to uncover his
beguilement; drinking in acknowledgment
of his golden chalice.

I want to decipher his member in autographed
curlicues of calligraphic swirls, teasing and
taunting as he watches, awe-struck; as tongue
etches each throbbing vein in ebonized charcoal,
sketched upon pages of wanton verses making
him scream with passion in prose; on bended
knee tasting my rose, penning his moans in
quotes against throat.

in heat of our passion, pages and scripts are
flipped allowing him to drip ink upon lips as I
whisper softly to his mind; want of him to grind
his neb of ache within my archive, articulating
history of hunger; as limbs mime each cursive
letter, insinuating one vowel at a time; licked
against silken parchment in tender stroked
consonant utterances; shuddering inside  
walls as nouns clench and moans escape
in adjectives shattering mind as wet tendrils
slide down firmness, fore, only she can do this
to me; making me flip volumes of pages while
inside wetness she drips ink all over in
chaptered stages.

each chapter I lick her spine; cornering her
in my mind as a sensual adversary; claiming
her as I untie her collection of copious sighs,
my mind tries to deny copyrights to her library;
as I place her upon my shelf, while against the
wall; ravishing her like the wild section of animal
kingdom, lusting while I watch her body fall
prey to breathless hunger, devouring
and savoring her bookmark; paying full
attention to her glossary of delectability,
that melts upon tongued bilingual text;
her nectar leaves its imprint upon
our handbook of worded aphrodisiacs.

cherishing our artistic volumes in ardency as
we're ready to publish our first draft, but not
before I slide her lubricious cover upon my
shaft; we begin to lay strokes of signatures
against our first editioned copies belonging
soley to us, as we scream in accented jargon
every second I tease; easing in and out,
shouting out in voweled ecstasy; gliding
thickness, gently against taut bookmark.

turning each page with deep thrusts, into her
inkwell; as I swell with friction, speaking in
fluent diction, of addiction to her sweetness;
dripping, as I'm slipping in tomes; thinking
about how she begged me to re-write our script,
spilling ink in delirious closure, in *******
exposure while losing our artistic composure;
writing manuscripts as ink spills upon volumes
of pages in disclosure.
just some ramblings that went through my thoughts one day...hope it makes sense to my viewers and readers
T Cup Dec 2013
I ******* hate both of you.

and there's nothing poetic about hatred.
T Cup Nov 2013
oh she's a ****?
the girl you called "adorable" in front of all your facebook friends,
is now a fat, ugly *****?
The girl you ****** time and time again
No longer has your lust?
Yeah, right, okay,
And Neb didn't
****
me.

One lie after the next.
John F McCullagh Jun 2013
In London, a statue of Neb
is constantly turning its head.
Despite being placed behind glass
The statue keeps showing its ***.
Revealing to all who are near
its demands for Bread, beef and beer.

An explanation had yet to be found
for why it keeps turning around.
As for its demands for some grub
It requires a lift to the pub,
The Good Pussy Jan 2015
.
                              Auto
                        plus­hophilia
                      Actirasty  Agal
                  ­   matophilia Anas
                       teemaphilia A
                       utogynophilia
                       Climacophilia
                       Formicophilia
                       Knismolagnia
                       L ith o phil  ia
                       Melissaphilia
                       Nas o l i ng us
                       Neb u lophilia
                       Psellismophili
                       a Pteronophili
                       a   Pygophilia
        Savant o                      p h i l ia
    *** ill ag nia               Transfestic Fetish
  ism *******                Vorurephilia
       Xylophilia                    Xylophilia
46 Fetishes you didn't know existed.
huffpost.com

*Xylophilia : arousal to wood
DieingEmbers Sep 2012
Spider spun her silken web
to catch herself a suitor
but flies she thought
are not my sort
for their ways just wouldn't suit her
and then a moth
whilst chewing cloth
said I shall be thy tutor
what you must do
I'm telling you
is buy yourself a rooter
For there is a web
for you to neb
With men you'd find much cuter
Neb is nosey look at
writingtree Nov 2017
bright night
captain downs the dressing gown
somewhere on sold shoulder
down in the dumpster town
gowin by delights
neb tunes a frequency
- remember the hair
and the comb
lust breather
from an unpublished book titled "spree"
Joseph Fernandez Jun 2020
What shall we do, where will we go?
Is anywhere safe for us in this chaotic world best described as an F5 tornado.

Uncontrolled thoughts spinning round and round, with at best incoherent processes upside down.
Many do I see wearing a confused frown.

Give me shelter from this horrific storm!
Please give me accurate information and me never misinform.

Incoming missiles of doubt to my left and right!
Most everyone around me displaying paralyzing fright!

Is true safety a physical place?
At times it can be, though first we must clearly see Gods invisible face.

Through it all, by only his kind guidance will we get to that safe “place.”
How? By forming in these last days, unbreakable faith!


J.I.F.


2 Peter 2:5
And he did not refrain from punishing an ancient world, but kept Noah, a preacher of righteousness, safe with seven others when he brought a flood upon a world of ungodly people.  

Hebrews 11:7
By faith Noah, after receiving divine warning of things not yet seen, showed godly fear and constructed an ark for the saving of his household; and through this faith he condemned the world, and he became an heir of the righteousness that results from faith.

Matthew 24:38,39

For as they were in those days before the Flood, eating and drinking, men marrying and women being given in marriage, until the day that Noah entered into the ark,  39 and they took no note until the Flood came and swept them all away, so the presence of the Son of man will be.

Hebrews 11:6

6 Moreover, without faith it is impossible to please God well, for whoever approaches God must believe that he is and that he becomes the rewarder of those earnestly seeking him.

Daniel 3:26
Neb·u·chad·nezʹzar approached the door of the burning fiery furnace and said: “Shaʹdrach, Meʹshach, and A·bedʹne·go, you servants of the Most High God, step out and come here!” Shaʹdrach, Meʹshach, and A·bedʹne·go stepped out from the midst of the fire.
In seafaring the Irish Sea Micks had to ***** their ***** down tight
when they were fleeing the tragical Emerald Isle-wide potato blight
in coffin ships while fleeing the tragic Emerald Island potato blight
across sea water of British-beer **** & blood-pudding turds at night
till morning when the king's ******-loving navy'd make all alright
until morn when the king's ******-porking navy'd make stuff right
by flying high the ****** union jack like the nippers' rising-sun kite
There is no fang-tooth rot in the maddest mad dog's maddening bite
nor argument among jungle carnivores to mark heavy carcases light
as this might make appetites of gristly diets nauseating at first sight
save queen's giblet gobbled by Praetorian guards as was their plight
to paint chain-link mesh with ****** strings whilst losing the fight
plus to wrest defeat from the jaws of victory & disgust from delight
with Julia Child's manly lady fingers attached to her hand of sleight
Mankind can spin the firmament of our flat Earth with all his might
& moxy commensurate to his original cave-living Si-Te-Cah height
before the Aquarian Age advent of **** N.A.S.A.'s gay moon flight
by old Masonic telemetrics in accord with Saturnian/Luciferian rite
to share convulsive retching systemic to spastic or paralyzing fright
that let quacks slice Michael Jackson's crucified neb merely to spite
sodomite Quincy Jones who with drum sticks Will Smith did smite

— The End —