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Filmore Townsend Jul 2013
and the sweat lingers with a
thin film of dust, dirt, mold --
whichever what have you.
what little hydration left of
this soft fleshy vessel seeps
through this veil. creating
rivers of mud that flood the
eyes and blind. though hue
of general existence if silh-
outted. and we follow the sou-
nds hoped spoke on the proper
path. shambling the brush,
ankles caught tight in the
thorns of the undergrowth.
never a first in leaving a
blooded footpath home. and
false words call us upon a
path in Life long returned to
Nature from man. and with blin-
ded eyes and gnarled sense,
trouncing the threshold of door
long closed, fearing only the
chance of having all ended.
the Ocean's desert is nothing
but the sweat of Man's ages'
turned to dust. ended of a
vessel when purpose has seen
fulfillment. to nurture, and
bring forth perpetuation of the
curious disappeared mysteries
resting unburdened, with ponde-
ring left nulled. and recreation,
re-mythologizing aeons not long
past. only a couple thousand
since the last hoarfrost blast.
René Mutumé Aug 2013
Back down the million mile road
down south again, buildings
familiar love, fashionable stones for throwing
across the Thames, office fields, floating stocks,
driving to the train rythm of city gulls and movement,
eager, bored, and feral, but
you’ve gotta choose your home…

London-queen of
mimetic ceremony
silhouettes cornered in pristine rooms,
finer than the attire of imagined skin, remembered and felt,
classic
projected
films
moving
into one line
of crowded parade,
stepping to
and fro, dressed differently
every time

the city and i- we
head to a shop
that puts a crate of beer
on my shoulder,
and a better drunk than us both
asks me for one

i say:
“sure man, take one”
and i offer him my smoke too,
“take it, just made it”
we add,
“ah! you’re Captain Scarlet!” he tells me
as the man sings the theme song and rewards
me
with a dance.

And sometimes the sickness and poverty of it all
helps
and its ok
tell me that after two breakfasts land down,
for a while, and two tumours laugh
in an empty car park
at the same thing.

The name for god always changing,
some days a digital
word,
sometimes
a bird stood upon a lamp post
at 10:16,
the way
someone smiles,
the science behind welcoming,
cancer guns
and the engravings
on the handle,
that you care for more
than all the dry sweat
night dripping,
the kind that paralyses
insomnia
and rises from your bed
outside your mind,
again:

that familiar smile.

We won’t be a salary in the morning,
we’ll be a Magritte, or a Picasso
at the weekend,
we’ll stand in front
of artists dead
and see no difference
between lamb, now roasting-
and the experiment in seasoning,
that you, or I
added

there’ll be a non-charging cash point,
counting sounds
that are lost in chaotic uncares,
and if my lights go out at 4am,
whilst we’re linked,
the vat
will at least
be made of us

the androgyny
of burnt climaxing sky line
will be clear through the polluted hive line
of buildings,
we’ll be wearing hooded macks
in the rain – sliding between still light
and shadow,
crossing the intersecting lines
of humming traffic
and unheard noise
we’ll pass without tickets,
as they fall from the bridge,
and the edge lifts away
from our feet

and the rest goes underground,
behind ageing tunnel wall of aging
graffiti skull -
tracks nulled by snow in winter,
body late, perspiring -
pouring peddle down, response
automatic,
eyelid better for counting
time, than opening eye -
synthetic wait for for any fire
that is kind,
raising corners that blink
in false dream

our seven seeming tied, and untied, bonded,
and unbonded,
gropes untied with hunger,
the sky kicks in the brick walls slaying the hours
with calls from strangers and friends
indifferent-

one.
-
two.
-
three.

seconds
and faces.

(and the city hates slowing down
doesn’t (s)he?)

until its ready that is,
the only joke being to wait and drool over corpses and post mortem like
thought the place being in your heart and the ever-glow being the same
as any love that you feel and the way you need it to take you forward
and just let you ride the and forget that its there because I’ll die
before I stop acting on my instinct for you the ever-gloom and the skull can unwind elsewhere! Oh the poison
that forgets itself if only needing the same formaldehyde
to keep it still-

That’ll do.



Perfection is a woman without eyes.

Perfection is a man without limbs.

Perfection is the home that walks you back when the day is yours,
and someone elses.

Perfection blinds the crippled mask.

Beginning.

One that fits your birth.

Your death.

All of the ****
islands.

All
of the ******

****

islands.
You don't have to pull the trigger.

     What He has planned for you
                          is so much bigger.

                Than the lies
                     resentful whys
                      the failed tries
                                     open ended goodbyes
                                              certain persons you despise
                                         whether it's someone else
                                                            ­                                   or inside yourself,
Put that gun back on the shelf.
Until you feel empowered again,
I know your strength is nulled,
if you want that much power in your own hand,
at least take out the bullets than,
That will liberate you, won't it?
This helplessness you feel subsides,
adjust your sights correctly you will find,
down the barrel of a gun is where the enemy hides.
Now before your heart joins the loss of your mind,
Open your eyes and unwind,

unload the gun and walk away
you can save a life today

even if it's your own.
I wish I could be more convincing. I know time is of the essence. How does one negotiate someone's life with few words?  So short of time?
Nameless Oct 2015
I stare at the ground, no need for attention.
I don't want them to find me, to fixate on me.
So, I make myself small;
Just a smudge on a camera lens.
I won't make a sound.
Be something... not desired.
Don't show that you're scared.
Try and scare them, anything to shake them off!?
They have a tainted soul, all they do is hurt.
Their hands reach for me.
...Maybe if I wasn't so small, I could yell.
And someone would help me!?!?
But, They already forced their sin
down my throat & hands tight against my windpipe.
Why don't they fear me!?
My psychotic tendency's, nulled by my loss of consciousness.
I hope I never wake up,
to see their face.
(GROTESQUE)
No struggle.
They've tainted my body,
but not my soul.
I picture their death at my hands...
                                                          But I'm nothing but a dog with no bite.
If Wisdom by Glasses your Wear enhance
Which strung by your Advise approves me then
Or Journals, kept for your long-term Romance
Spread to Chaser Friends your Messages send
Which I, nulled even for my Senses hear
To allow this Picture for my Desert's Gleam
Such Gleam called Delusions: And out of Fear
Rid my Words chaste to what it must have been
Yet for that Sentimental Phase called Friend
A Meaning which still my Reasons inquire
Which Standards apply; Or Materials spend
Rake our Attitudes to your Desire.
Now frilly these Rants. This Cake deserves your Taste
A Kind and Fast plomb let not go to Waste.
[HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SIR SEAN!]
Poetic T Jun 2016
I have a diary its called my "Diary Of Thought,
in it are all the problems that creak within
my lingering cranium. They started off so tiny
but after they encircled they gained ground.

I wrote these problems down in tears and in efforts
to drown out the sound. But a sound is never nulled
it can be a whisper that is louder than any shout.
Hearing it not only in woken moment but dreams they shout.

I lie on my bed, I look at the ceiling an think if I
could be like it white washed with tiny cracks.
My mind has cracks but I fall within them, hiding
within them trying to keep the noises out.

"All my thoughts are in my dairy of thought,
*"But if you open the pages there all blank,
Filmore Townsend Sep 2015
let's do this.
here we are the in-between.
statement nulled of either
side. no history forced
past, and only warming up
in this the current aba-
ting long dark. and sta-
nding this hovel does so
with each glance of wall
left to right. realizing
four's advancement has
aided in absence of post-
humous thought.
canvas-flapped arm, just
to mention for the occu-
rrence of these words. just
to mention recurring thought
not allowed history. not
yet endowed with the period
of a past list. an in-between,
a valley shooting gallery w-
here the soul bleeds out to
drown the vessel. deep analogies.
a deeper long dark thought in
retreat, only thoughts are to
mystified and this proves Hesse
true.
orig: 010514 3.50ante
Meenu Syriac May 2014
And the wheels set into motion
*Somewhere, in an obscure world, she sat

Penning a story, lost in thought, fading away.

Waves breaking onto the shore
The silence nulled, ceasing to exist no more
The air scented with a salty mist,
Gradients, carrying a lost cry, into the night
Pushing past barriers, on and away.

On a park bench, lovers, sit and play
Dreamy eyes, and entwined soul
Lost in a promise that may never see the day
From the corner of the eye, a lonely girl
Pipe dreams and a broken heart,
Sits and watch as the game turns unfair.

Centuries old, woman on a rocking chair
Seen life, see no more, her eyes can't take the pain
Hands fall to the side, heavy breathing
Gasping for her last breath of air.

As the wheels turn, stories never ending...



Life- twists, turns and makes its way
Silent and beauteous, role plays changing,
**As the players take the centre stage.
Robyn Feb 2013
After years of being nulled to stone
Blood run dry and flesh gone cold
My words can make me feel so old
But my wounds are always fresh
Randall Walker Sep 2017
A leaf is a leaf,
A door is a door,
I know I make no sense,
But you know what I mean.

These paradoxes blossom,
Bringing Infinite trim,
I'm 'yielding', I'm 'healing',
But the light only dims.
The darkness now light,
For each pore I fight,
My sight's insight in sight.

However,
I see
No heights
To which I can land.

Our reality (as we know it)
Is just for show,
Perhaps this reality, just my reality,

That's all we know.

If more is found,
We're found not to be,
Nulled replicants of nothing,
Destined to the void, to be.
The place where God lies dead,
And His expired creations go,
Stowed at His hands and feet.





Note:
Dinosaurs, Dragons, and hulk there included,
The illusion I alluded to is food for the fallen.
But hey,
These lines above have no meaning, am I right?
No bearing on life,
The same way my head has no hair.
Though,
'Hush,' I say to the breeze blowing through it,
I swear
I feel
a tickle there.
Micheal Wolf Dec 2017
A face in the crowd
A glance nothing more
Eyes that hold you in their gaze
A smile that warms you
Words that start a fire inside
A touch that makes it burn wild
The why's the where's are all nulled
If that face looks at you.
Eyji Noblesmith Apr 2020
Shall I disclose my mind
With these lines be sent unto thee
And unto thy passive eloquence

How lustrous thou art
That may the angels of Heaven sin
And the Goddesses of myth
With envy

For thy innocent complexion
More bright and radiant
Than the paleness of morning skies
And the meager sun
And dull crystals of night

Thou art defiant to the lights of world
When thy moral'd hues emitted—

What flawed and honest fairness
Strained not by the fires of mortal eyes
Thou hast none of ornament
Nor hast the looms of gaud

Nor thou wilt decline by eternal times
And not will thy ethereal color end
For death is nulled when thou shinest

But I, thou wilt not see
For what a dimm'd shadow
I am before thee

O please, wilt thou?
Prabhu Iyer Nov 2020
Voices, broken in the boughs
sleepwalking on nulled roads
echoing in the rain, and
the swings, empty rocking in the winds:
dry withering to budding, scenes
we never saw, until now
the everyday season;
Long since time stopped and
vanished behind the screens;
Then, can I call you, 'The Day'?
Echoes in the alleyways and
the dreary skies all the same;
But I must mark The Day: now
I chore, then endlessly refocussing
juggle as broomed go we muggles;
Know who's lasered on next?
Worry not, as big realms have
no pockets but ours;
For the ledgers must roll on;
Unmarked, we may go, like this
The Day, BUT: now work galore
(a noir reflection on our times: originally written on 25 July 2020
jopfre Jun 2022
or perhaps a bagel
with sesames scattered like stars
or a dry-roast well
shelled with clay
I will not be filled
with nuts or cake
nor love or science
for I am empty
and silent.

And the universe is too
a toroidal void devoid of life
spare our transactions
of nuts for shells
nulled as astronauts
pass the transmit limit

How the sun flashes
on copper pennies splashing
wishes in water.

Up here
saturn's rings
are all but nut shells
far flung from jets
which fly by mars at sunset.

I long for the pure
hydrogen at a star’s heart
to melt the iron
though my thoughts float
with hot gas I forget
we are seeds of the future
funnels of becoming
me and the universe
empty packets
with full stomachs.
neth jones May 2021
Retreading the same creative subjects
Rebedding headaches
                                  Pedalo
Some discomfort
Clung all over
          with a fungal dampness
          And moored with a heavy sleep-like coat
Worthy of nothing
Nothing worthy of note
Pages

Consumed by rehearse
I've lost the thirst to broadcast
Cowardly in delay
Relaying what's past
..... a Recurrent distress

I stand sudden :
Done !
I derail the trolley-lot ...

Then I fit
In a mirthquake
         I laugh like i am made of bellies
'The Bellycake', I'll call me.

With my serious anchorous state nulled
I approach fresh work with good humour
(Teen Hamlet in decay)
Parth Jain Jun 2019
It might be warmth
buried deep into the winters.
or the last azalea
standing against the autumn.

Might be a rare constellation
seen by hopeless drunk lovers
or the sight of an oasis
to a lost drowsy caravan.

Hope can be fragile
yet it won't be nulled.
It won't be lost.
We bask till we're infected,
We smoke until we're nulled,
We **** till we're anullified
And numb until wee dumb
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2018
i pledge an alliance to the english
tongue,
     and the nation of iran;
      once the americans seize to
export their *******,
or rather, export their levi jeans
with a tag: tailored in milwaukee...
rather than made in beijing...
    the day the americans get
their **** together?!
                i'll look past i-ran...
      and once again,
consider americana... cinema;
no, i know no persian poets...
know an afghani...
             rumi...
                     came the date,
came the body,
                    came the tattoo;
came the shrill...
       and the voice,
   and the night,
                and the bombast
            worth of nulled
                        revision.
  american culture is exhausting,
in that: america should forget
exporting its culture...
         because america is not
worth exporting...
         american culture is simply
exhausting...
                gun or no gun...
      knife or no knife...
                       it is...
   simply...
                 the allowance of a freedom
we cannot possess...
               america exported
has no viable reality promise...
  it's a delusion for people
in europe...
           just stick to
isolationism favoured
            by f. d. roosevelt!
ah... but america without
its cultural export is no america
at all...
              sorry...
    deaf ears around here...
              unless of course
it's the plebs listening.
hani
winter May 2021
Winter finds
the tops of mountains
Short of breath from the climb
Crystals shaped like snowflakes fall
On their cheeks, stung by the sun.
They wear long clothing with
Buttons that match: a uniform
Symbol that, though small, reflects
Defining strength and aptitude
And keeps them standing tall.
But when they climb back down
The home they return to
Is distant and virtuous and small.
A familiar pen writes papers and poems
To fill up the shelves of a well-crafted den.
It’s a habit more than a hobby, by now
They’ll have published at least one or two, by then.
On weekdays they travel to libraries and schools
Read books to children and sing.
When afternoon comes, they’ll be fighting for justice
With knowledge, compassion, and persevered dreams.
Winter is seen taking walks in the spring that can last up to 10 hours long
With friends, old and new, who walk right alongside- the journey, though tiresome, is strong.
They’ve grown a few inches, in shoes or in heel, and their childhood fears have finally nulled
Traveling far away, small spiders and mirrors, these terrors now trivial, lackluster, and dull.
Winter is a season that she once felt was impossible to feel like herself in, she’d say.
But now they have conquered the long blist’ring winds, and Teasdale’s Stars, and Woolf’s Dalloway.
They keep moving forward, inspired and stilled, by the pleas of a kid who once called out their name
In hopes of an answer, running up that hill, fiercely demands of them: Requiem for: identities lost and spirits regained.
Big Virge Mar 2020
Ya Know These Days It Seems That Many Believe …  
That They're Ready To See … " The KILLER in Me " … !?!  

Now ….  
Why Would They REALLY Want To See …  
ANGER That Swells … DEEP Inside of Me … ?!?  

Cos' That WON'T Bode Well … !!!  
  
If I Decide To … UNLEASH …  
Those Things DEEP WITHIN ...  
That Fuel Me To … " SIN " … !!!!!  
  
Like … VIOLENT Sprees And DARK Tendencies …  
I Leave In My Dreams In FACT My ... NIGHTMARES … !!!!!  
  
That May Well Just SCARE … !!!  
If You're NOT PREPARED To Face Up To DEATH … !!!!  
  
YES … I Mean MINE …  
As Well As … Theirs … !!!!!!  
  
Yes Those Who DARE ...  
To Step Into The Lair of Wars With No Cause …  
Cos' of Threats They Design Inside of Their Minds … !!!!!  
  
But What Happens When … ?  
Their Conscience Starts To … GNAW … !?!  
  
"I killed him because of things that he said !"  
  
"Well, listen here son,  
when it comes to your death, heaven may reject,  
your wish to find love in the skies up above,  
such places are kept, for less ignorant heads !!!"  
  
"But, he showed disrespect I just couldn't accept !  
cos' the things he expressed, just got me upset !"  
  
"So, you thought it was best to start making threats ?!?  
Were you one, NOT schooled, to this here old tune … ?  
Sticks and stones may well, break bones,  
but, words of Virge aren't meant to hurt !
They'e just straight truth !
What's wrong with that dude, i'm a bit confused ?"  
  
SEE … THIS Is How I Use My Mouth … !!!  
  
But ….  
  
" THE KILLER In Me " ...  
Simply … WON'T SPEAK … !!!!!  
  
Is This The Thing They Want To See … ?!?  
  
Big Virge STRESSING … " No Poetry " ... ?!?  
  
Just Plotting How To ... Make Them BLEED …  
NOT STOPPING Til' I Hear Them SCREAM … !!!!!  
  
"PLEASE STOP BIG V ! STOP BEATING ME !  
CAN'T YOU SEE, THERE'S NO MORE NEED,  
FOR YOUR BRAND OF BRUTALITY !"  
  
"But I thought you said, I should be DEAD !!!  
cos' my poems, upset your head !"  
  
"Well, that was then, but this is NOW !  
I want to live, cos' I have kids !"  
  
"Well me, I DON'T, so, think on this quote !  
You should of thought of that, before making threats,  
cos' now I'M MAD, and want to enlist,  
the demon within, who i've kept suppressed !"  
  
See People …. REACT …. !!!  
When They Should Step Back …  
Take A Minute And ... THINK ….........................  
Before Things Get SICK ….. !!!!!!!!!!  
  
Straight STOMPING On Heads ...  
Like In …. " History X " …. !!!!!  
  
YES CRACKING On Skulls … !!!  
  
Until They Are NULLED And Breathing NO MORE.  
YES These Types of Wars Are In … " Virge's Thoughts " … !!!!!!  
  
I'm REALLY NOT TOUGH But Am BIG ENOUGH ... !!!    
To Cause People PAIN Cos' of What's In My Brain … !!!!!  
  
Oh And YES I Am HARD When I Take A STANCE …  
That Defends My Honour Like … SUICIDE BOMBERS ... !!!!!!  
  
Which Is Why How I Roam Is Mostly … ALONE … !!!  
  
But DON'T MAKE The Mistake …  
of Thinking My Death Will NOT BE AVENGED … !!!  
  
I Know Some BAD MEN Who May Well Defend ...  
Sending Out TROOPS To Bring LIVING PROOF ...  
That What You Put Out ... DOES COME BACK TO YOU …. !!!!!!!  
  
See EVEN Some Chicks Be Thinking They SLICK … !?!  
As If I'm TOO NICE To … RIP OUT THEIR EYES … !!!  
And ... RIP OUT THEIR TONGUES ...
When They Start To Run Gums … !!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
I'm TRYING My HARDEST ...  
To NOT BE The Fastest …  
To Start Aiming At TARGETS … !!!  
  
Draw Cards And Then SHOOT ...  
Because of …. The TRUTH ... !!!!!!!!!!  
  
It Makes NO **** SENSE To Talk VIOLENCE … ?!?  
And Then Recite Poems That Mention GREAT HEADS ...  
Who'd NEVER DEFEND Such Thoughts Or Actions ... !!!!!!!!  
  
YES Times May Be TOUGH But DON'T Get Worked Up … !!!  
Try DEALING With Speech That's NOT … " Fallacy " … !!!  
  
See It ……. AS IT IS … !!!!!  
  
Speech That Is FREE ….........................................................  
And DOESN'T CONCEDE To … LIES And DECEIT …  
  
Cos' THREATS I DON'T NEED And Will Start To Breed …  
What Deep Down BELIEVE ... NO-ONE NEEDS TO SEE …. !!!!!  
  
ANGER … I CONTROL ...  
That Keeps HIM On HOLD … !!!!!  
  
The … OTHER Big V ...  
  
YES …  
  
" THE KILLER In Me ! " ......
What to say ?

Well, sometimes people should appreciate the patience and peaceful vibe that a person is showing, in the face of their ignorance !

This was in response to being threatened by somebody I no longer remember, however, as much as this a vent, it should not just be read as such, but read as the words suggest !

Thank whoever for the pen and it's ability to help us vent, hence this poem !
Orakhal Nov 2020
woofs at nights fire
prey nulled by life's devices

fearsome hard  as plummets ice
not quick to wreck an anvil vice

lungs bolted to a deserts sun
dig principle to suffer on

a murky menace tipple pink
beneath ones toughest on the brink

— The End —