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marie-laure Aug 2015
the glass in your hand is still
save a few nervous tremors
you sigh, and your exhale
is louder than the small voice of my
mother; all I can hear are tremors

you know, these glasses used to be your glasses
these plates were your plates
you used to stir these pots and pans
the weight of your absence hit me like a
freight train; like our situation

you are doing your best to be civil
which is what I find the saddest
don't you remember the terms of endearment
used fleetingly in red-cheeked encounters
whispered in expectant ears by foreign tongues

don't you remember the vows you took
the oath you pledged, every look

do you remember the life you had?

the difference between the casual touches of
your new life, and the cold rebuffal of the old
is striking me, to me

that is why I find it the saddest
years of mundane contentment and unassuming love
reduced to the void of careful distance and
cigarette ash; trying your best to be civil
hello i'm marie-laure and i'm new to hello poetry so please be nice --- feedback is welcomed !!
Ken Pepiton Jul 2021
If Dexter's Parents had not divorced and he had not moved away with his mother,
Who was beautiful as I recall, today would have played out or worked out or turned out
Differently. Very differently, considering that little twist in my six-degrees of separation base pattern
Hapt seventy-years ago, or so,
----
Watch starlings, if you have starlings, or watch congregations of kippers on Netflix.
Their steering is on auto. Do you agree? Then we are in Agreement, which is an odd place to find one's self in the midst of so great a cloud of witnesses.
-----
'e goes a gain a ginning, grinning all the while
Aye, and radioman turned on just
Now listen -Radio Mumbai

I meant, you and I agree schools of sardines and flocks of gulls are all on auto-pilot-propulsion-maintenance programs,
Right?
I thought so. The code in a gnat must be so much more elegant than the vast terabytes of programming in the GPS constrained self-drivers evolving on earth. Gnats never collide and are nearly impossible to hit, unless you have bat tools, which you don't. Nobody wrote that gnat code, right?
Of course not, evidence of programming only appears to be programming, evidence of design only looks like design it's not design. Right? So says Carl Sagan, Richard Dawkins, and all the people so called to win the battle for the minds of **** Sapiens Augmentatious, lest, as the confusion of Babel subsides, those minds should begin to reason together more clearly in light left after the lies standing on men's minds are revealed inferior to what our senses sensationally acknowledge. Whew. Long thought.

I meander, but you do as well. That is how things flow.
Not over immovable objections, around.

One life that was connected to mine in boyhood friendship was severed about half-way through my sixteenth year.
He died. I don't remember how. Alcohol-related, I can imagine. I did not attend the funeral, though some acquaintances did; one of whom was later my lover. She is dead now as well, too late to tell me anything. She had a baby less than a year after I returned from Vietnam, more than nine months later. That is a heavy thought, but not one I think does much good now.

So little of history is noted. So few lives function to trigger generational unctions that devolve into wars against imbalance, iniquity, slavery and death.
Fraternity, Egality, ******* *** the mob all riled-up, burn , baby, burn.
Whole people die in history's whims,
If whims they were.

Rebellions…

Watch the starlings steer through 4-d patterns eternally random,
fueled by bugs they convert to food for the soil itself.
Their life is their work and they do it beautifully. As one.

Can Boeing-Raytheon-L3 et al build a self-propelled, self-refueling drone that can fly at top-speed, maneuvering millimeters in each direction from other self-propelled, self-refueling drones while dropping their payloads without a single friendly-fire crash, ever?

Starlings don't **** on each other.

If war-profiteers could build such things, would you watch such things perform and wonder at the minds that built them, or deny such minds played any role from concept to creation, and ask who authorized development and deployment of such an expensive fertilizer distribution system that fertilizes wild weeds as well as gentled weeds?
Which would you say: "Wow, how did those get made, who paid?" or "Wow, look what billions of years and energy alone can do against absolutely insurmountable odds and impossible physics, with chaos and corruption always on the job?" Holy entropic bad moon.

Are ye not more precious than starlings, or sardines, or gnats. Would a sense pertaining to immediate locational proximity, evident in birds and fish and bugs, not be apparent in Adamkind, at least as a metaphor regarding benefits gained in knowing where you are relative to your own environment, regardless of any sense of personal purpose?

I can see it in the fact that we can agree, for good or ill.

As generations mature and regenerate, might there be patterns in the tumbling of the powerful and the powerless populations. Patterns depicting group or herd preservation by fully mentally equipped populations of mature and maturing Adamkind are detectable. Facts now overflow the cup of knowns. These are those days when knowledge is increasing and increasing and increasing to the point of being a destructive force in tightly closed minds.

Name dropping, rather than restating, Helen Arendt, "The Origins of Totalitarianism"(1966), Bertrand Russell, "The Problems with Philosophy"(1912), Pankaj Mishra, "The Age of Anger"(2017).

These three books and some browsing of names and titles the authors drop, have spurred me over the top of a rise I had not seen coming. My path had become gradually uphill without my noticing. I was interested in other things and ignoring notices from my body that oxygen stores were being depleted more rapidly than current inventory of red blood cells and nurse lymphocyte-bots can recycle the quadra-monthly disassembly turnover, H2O stores for sweat heat-dispersal systems and plasma regeneration and digestion of what little remains to be digested are now at "caution, think about stopping" levels. But I saw that from the top I might see to the top of the next rise before I chose the downhill part of my path. The down hill path determines the uphill path.
In the desert, you can see trails marked in many ways, mosses grow in least-heat zones created by angular location relationships with the sun. Breezes whisper into shade puddles by ever slow slight temperature inequilibria shifting some heat to the triggering of my sweat system.

If you were compelled to reason about every step you take in life as if it were your responsibility to regulate and control every function of your flesh vehicle in which you abide in relationship to all around you that you could harm or that could harm you, you would be mad. {mad?} illusion of reality

assumes reality is friendly here. I'm okeh
with that improbability aside,

implied as self explicatory and unfolding life…
examined,
for what its worth in words redeemed may be,
in the future, when this is what they thought,
you think, and I say know,
I thought this,
on a bet. Or an oath, depends on the fret.

Crazy mad, but angry auch. That would be unfair, because you don't know how to do what you are being compelled to do. Reports of persons who can control ****** functions not commonly consciously controlled are easily found. Such persons spend their time so countering the rolling rhythms beat by heart doors slamming shut and swooshing open in response to electricity, that, we, Adamkind, have yet to truly understand. We've no need, that which concerns us was
to be perfected, not by us.

If my use of Adamkind offends you, the reality of my benefits, wrought from my comprehension of my relation to Adam, will likely make me your enemy, in your own mind, not mine.
Ax'em, do they love po' o'hate rich?

Believe one chance in practically infinity of current evolutionary-nontheistic thought being the way things must be, then multiply the number of times you make that bet by the number of insects on earth or even by the number of mitochondria in your kidneys.

Ignoring life's delicate imbalances in light of what can be known today, breaks our minds's ability to agree perfectly. The social dichotomy that seems to arrange adamkind's affairs over eons and eras: rich and poor, have and have not, mean and meek, is ego-driven, self-benefit seeking and not part of the original program.

Contemplate the sweet influences of Pliades, silently questing the truth of hope and matter. There is more power in this stream.

Chapter end.
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Mateuš Conrad Feb 2022
articles like this really **** me off...
my father is a subscriber to The Times...
personally? i think that Monday ought to be treated
at a media / journalistic sabbath...
nothing ever happens on a Sunday:
what's there to write about on a Monday:
for a Monday... all the newspaper editions
are always the slimmest on a Monday...
it's like... take a hike, won't you?
the best day to read a newspaper, most definitely
a Sunday... it comes with all the cultural reviews
some recipes... a culmination of a week
or even a month... the news review and
the editorial comment sections are best on
a Sunday... why not print anything on a Monday?!
- and it's always on a Sunday that
i find all the juicy bits... the one day in the week
but the current month... bad timing...
either i watch the FA cup / the six nations
or i read a newspaper / the newspaper magazine
while drinking two bottles of 8.2% cider....
well, sure... with beer when you raise the game
to Carlsberg's Special ******* Brew that
comes in at 9%: it's an ugly affair... you start
squirming asking yourself: are you *******
a lemon?! but "alas"... it's cider... so it's almost like
drinking ****-poor diluted wine...
but it makes some agonising articles:
mostly written by women... a tad bit... more...
bearable...
         mainstream media is out of touch...
someone has already said it, someone is already
saying it: someone else will say it later on...
oh i'm big on the female-centric pieces of
the newspaper: forget all that objective journalism,
cold, hard, male: give me the facts and... *******...
no no... as a reader i'm also a weaver...
i like to spin a counter narrative in my head...
The Sunday Times STYLE magazine...
   Dolly Alderton speaks to a rising star in
pop music... a Self Esteem - formerly known
as Rebecca Lucy Taylor... oh, right...
so like Prince... or Michael Jackson:
the guy formerly known to be black? cool cool...
you can check her out...
music sort of akin to spoken word poetry:
whatever the hell that means... no, not Kate Tempest
style... again: spoken word poetry?
oh, right, i'm more into composition than
performance so this is: written word poetry...
fair enough...
   i'll sooner be found dead than performing my word
in the current climate... 'said a poopy word!
cancel him!' no thank you,
i still have a head ******* on this neck
on these shoulders... i'll wait for the jazz to calm
the **** down... i'll probably be an irrelevant
relic by then, hopefully mummified like
Lenin... you never know...
hmm... Rotherham-born... 35...
and what are the chances that...
you know... Rotherham... Pakistani grooming-gangs...
only yesterday my company employed
20+ Pakistani zombies that probably sprouted
out of cousin-on-cousin *******...
dull... zoned-out... glassy eyed *****...
what are the chances?
they looked... well... less sinister more murky...
slimy...no... not slim i.e. slimmy... slime-e...
slimey... i know, it should be written slimey
and not slimy... which sort of implies slimmy: slimming...
no no... so of how you'd write: smiley...
slimey... makes sense...
i'll just verbatim the headline...
(she really looks like a Marilyn Monroe doppelganger,
voluptuous, vivacious, all the required va va voom
of a woman)
   MEN ARE REALLY SCARED OF ME...
last time i checked... there's this ****** proverb
that states... fear has large eyes...
guess what... only yesterday i saw those large eyes
of fear when the four of us were outnumbered
by about 30+ screaming chanting taunting drunk
teenagers / football hooligans at a match...
i must have been squinting or something...
in this profession (of stewarding) i hear a lot of macho
bravado about smacking some...
very much aligned to the narrative borrowed
from the film: Rise of the Foot Soldier...
Essex gangland... blah blah br'uh...
                                       o.k. we get it: you have an erecticle
dysfunction, need to compensate by going
to the gym to increase your muscle mass...
modern films... hell...
they used to be great... up to the point where
they made it adamant that they were also
advertisement flicks... zooming in on products...
worn by characters in a no-plot scenario...
usually watches, electronic products...
food brands, restaurants...
it's like capitalism selling itself to capitalism...
what a hyper-inflated word...
which word? capitalism... i mean... i was born
in a former Soviet satellite state...
n'ah... it wasn't so bad... "my" people sort
of went along with the Russian influence:
when the art of metallurgy was still in "fashion"
in Eastern Europe, but it's not like we took
the Bolsheviks that much seriously than "we" did
the Nazis... after all: funny fact:
it took **** Germany AND Soviet Russian
to conquer Poland than it took **** Germany
to conquer France... Napoleon must have been
turning in his grave...
    i don't think men are scared of women...
personally i like to think of them as timid little
creatures that... OVER-ESTIMATE
their worth, confidence,
                              looks, worth...
                availability... as a man that knows how
to cook, as a man that does all the house chores...
and all the man *******...
oh, right, today... one of my cats did a ****-poor
job at taking a ****...
she managed to plough out two blobs from the "cuvette"
and leave them sitting pretty on
the matt beside the "cuvette"...  
   yes yes, i know, it's a misnomer... read some Wittgenstein...
i'm thinking in ****** while writing in
English... the word is originally French...
blah blah... i lied to little Freddy / Reinhart about
the origins of the word haemorrhage -
one of the words for his school spelling exams...
i said: oh... that's Latin... i'm kicking myself
over the etymological falsity i passed down on to him...
yes: it's Greek...
from HAIMA - blood (noun) &
                         RHEGNUNAI - burst (verb)...
so then i lifted her up and sniffer her...
oh jeez! Louise! **** this ****... i'm not having some
stinking cat walking about my house...
meow meow... ******* horror movie meow...
well you should have taken a **** better!
scratching, a proper bite at the hand!
into the shower with you! washed her from all the
stink... petulant little **** of a cat that she
was she managed to come across as penitent
when i shampooed her and the water was running
down her spine... ha ha...
so much for a maine ****... more like a rat now...
wrapped her up in a blanket put her
on my lap and watched about 20 minutes
of Liverpool's struggle with Birmingham City in
the FA cup...
                  then ****** off on my bicycle for some
whiskey and turkey stakes for the cats to eat...
wait... didn't i once feed Quorus a fish eye,
while filleting a trout? oh yeah... i did...
that was fun to watch... i sometimes catch mosquitos
by the legs and feed them too...
- do men can possibly fear women?
plainly, on the outright? i very much doubt it,
like Bane said in that opening scene from
Christopher Nolan's Batman movie:
this is no time for fear, doctor... that comes later...
how women have churned out a complete
lack of perception misguiding initial attraction
for fear... it's like they have no clue about how
men behave... when they're attracted
to women... "unconscious" curiosity is not
a fear... a woman is still somewhat abstract...
hell: to me she's forever an abstract...
i don't have the practicality of a man that might
gamble, take the plunge...
impregnate one...             last time i heard
it was considered a bad idea for a man to be
present at child-birth... women should take care
of women's "issues"...
ooh... i'm scared of a woman
but not a ******* tiger? logic paradox...
i'm scared of a puddle but not the raging sea!
how did women conjure up this
invulnerability? too many boy bands in the 90s...
too many male feminists?!
- and then the Sarah Everard ******...
men are scared of women... BOMBAST egoism...
no, not scared... just a case of men
scrutinising: is this going to be worthy?
tying the knot... getting up at 5am, coming back
home at 8am and getting nothing
5 pieces of sushi to eat... the house in a turmoil,
the kids growing up feral...
is it... worth merely the looks?!
the looks, right now? i mean... she's going to
be a ******* granny in about 20 years
if she's already a single mum aged 39...
is it going to be worth it?
or... if she's in her 20s... what's her boredom
spectrum, does she need to be on a ferris-wheel
all the ******* time or can she take an hour
of reading beside a fireplace and the deafening silence...
can she handle Mistress Death?
has she been to a funeral? has one of her grandparents
died?!
right...                    yeah.... scared of a woman
because of her good looks...
                scared akin to: what are the chances
she's going to go on a cosmopolitan safari
of **** given the current influx of black walking
****** of migrants on dingy boats...
what are the chances of her becoming a liability
rather than a partner?!

- - - - - - interlude - - - - - - -

****, where was i? oh man, i really love listening
to garbage... no, not literally...
the band... stupid girl, i'm only happy when it rains,
#1 crush, dog new tricks...
i never thought i'd find a recipe for
pasta and smoked salmon... lucky me...
so ******* simple... onion, sour cream,
some tomato(s), two tablespoons of capers,
lemon juice... pepper... chilly flakes...
preferably the Korean ones that also act like
turmeric - i.e. they colour the food...
smoked salmon added at the last minute...
some slices reserved for garnish to make
the dish look more appealing... and obviously
dill... to be honest: a lot of dill...
what did i watch? Beijing Winter Olympics...
why are they so racist?! joke... seriously
that's a joke... why are, why oh, oh my god why
are the winter olympics so racist?!
no winters in Africa?! maybe?!
no ******* snow... what are they going to
do... surfing on the dunes of Sahara?!
ha ha... it's untouchable! i love it!
but what i don't love... why didn't all the countries
simply, outright, boycott Ch-ch-ch-I-n'ah?!
why indulge them as if nothing *******
happened for the past 2 years...
i mean... the Soviets were boycotted back
in the day when people had... ***** for brains
and brains for *****... but these days?
even the **** are ******* labradors lapping up
any attention going their way... ******* silly *****...

plus, the Olympics per se...
there was always equality when it came to sports...
not popular sports like rugby,
football or boxing, i give you that...
sports for rich men and silly little ***** to drool
over status...
but real sports... unattractive sports,
unpopular sports...
we're not going to have a pay gap debate
when it comes to professional tennis...
women only have to play a maximum of 3 sets...
men? 5 sets... how long did that Australia Open
final take, to get finished? close to 6 hours?
right...
     what wage gap?
well, at least in the Olympics a man has
to run a marathon... a woman runs what? half of it?
no no... ***** is running the ******* marathon...
hundred metres? she's running the hundred metres...
obviously she's going to be slower...
that's not my problem... but even saying that...
i enjoy female tennis more than the men's...
i don't know... they moan more?!
or perhaps my generation, the millennials
produced 2 of the 3 greatest players in: whenever...
so... maybe it just a got a bit ******* boring...

oh, but i'll be boycotting the current Olympic
games in Beijing... it's not progressive enough,
there are not enough... what's that ******* acronym...
B.C.I.W. - black, coloured, indigenous, women...
i don't know what the state of the current
alphabet soup of acronyms from H'america is at...
****! **** ****! pump snow to Africa!
get some ice! let's get a bobsleigh team going!
******* Wankees and their currency
of current rotten ideas!

ha ha: it's already served to me on a silver platter...
all i have to do is drink a little and stew and spew...

sure, it's only going to be a soft boycott,
i just watch those games,
pointless... thanks for the pandemic,
no thank you, otherwise...
i sort of feel sorry for the athletes being so compliant
with the narrative...

oi! Ummah! where's you suicide squad from
Saudi Arabia's elite breaking into
the concentration camps where
the Uyghurs are being sentenced to unspeakable
horrors? oh sure... attack the West while
seeking proselytes, but don't care about
your existing Muslim community...
i see a third breaking apart of Islam...
i don't know why i see it... but this will not be
along the lines of the Sunni and Shiah...
this might actually involve the Turks...
i see the Turks as a third, separate,
branch of Islam: even if they're not already that,
where are your little ****-pants blow-themselves-up
rather than fight, fighting for your Ummah
in Ch-ch-ch-I-n'ah?!
                                   oh right, nowhere to be found...
too busy kiddy-fiddling English girls
in Rotherham!
      ******* degenerates!
i'm fuming at the teeth: and they have the *******
audacity to lecture me about, principle?
racists too... they think very little of the Chinese...
as Muslims... the "master religion"
the "master race"... ******* camel-jockeys...
the whole entire rest of them!

- the temperature in the house dropped to 17 degrees...
ooh, a bit chilly... wrote my father's invoice,
took out the garbage, ****... forgot to take out
the dwindling yellow tulips, will do, next week...
received an email that i passed my NVQ for role
as steward... well great... pressed play on
the thermostat... waited as i did all of that...
oh my my... it's getting hot... ran up to my bedroom
to turn it off... it read... 18 degrees...
wow! wow! imagine what one degrees Celsius makes...
i never thought... well: i never thought that
could be possible...

- - - - - - - - end of interlude - - - - - - - - - - -

i must have finished writing about the previous
article, since, i took time for an interlude of...
what was already stated...
                           this second article... i have to begin
with a rubric, oh yeah, it's sourced:
   ONS, UN, relate.org...

rubric, i.e. a list and it's as follows (leaving the approximation
words aside):
1. 1 in 7 people in the UK living alone by 2039
1. 61% of single women say they are single-happy
  compared with 49% of men
            (men, if they lie, are good at it,
   good enough to become serial killers;
    but women? they are compulsive,
which does't necessarily translate as them being
                       good at it; they're usually not -
they're spastic-fantastic sort of clumsy, at it)
3. 1 in 6 of British people believe in the concept
   of "the one"...
4. 10% of Brits enjoy the **** to the ****
with the chicken; 13% in the wake of the fine fine
MADE IN CHINA whatever-it-was don't
feel ready for intimacy...

               oh sure... the hypochondriacs have
finally been found... i was wondering why they /
where they disappeared to... but now they're in plain
sight... with their secular makeshift niqqabs...
i like this transparency... it's good for an apparent
"schizophrenic" to start to feel more comfortable
in his skin... then again: thank you China...
i can now clearly see the neurotics and the hypochondriacs...
the little people on the spectrum of the asylum...
no... the micro-aggression crowd...
no... not the raving lunatics...
the cult of the moon crowd...
the ones speaking to their shadows... taking
selfies of their shadows... haunting graveyard type
of crowd... thank you... i can see the mice...

5. 25% think they are out of bedroom practice, antics...
well, d'uh... 8% are more open to same-*** relationships...

  yeah, i was thinking that... maybe it would be easier
dating a man... but he'd have to be Greek...
and be learned in... classical thought from ancient
times when pederasts where accepted
like modern Pakistan freely welcomes paedophiles
as long as they do it to English girls... that sort of, "thing"...

i abhor the western concept of dating...
i might have been on a date once...
yeah... i was on a date once...
we went to an art gallery,
to the cinema, to a restaurant...
then we started dating, we were in high school...

after that? i was already ******* her
when she asked me to take her to a sea-food restaurant
for clams, oysters and mussels...

dating... oh, right... that one speed-dating event
that made me look like an ***...
dating... is that like... the Chelsea flower show?
you know... where you go to see flowers
but can't pluck any for a bouquette
to take home? it must be like that...
i wouldn't know... ****** off to the brothel
early... found a stone in the shape of a heart
on the pavement once...
called it my own... never looked back...

   just to make sure... i treat oath words very much
akin to superlatives - i know they're not superlatives,
but in the sense of keeping a modern
narrative... they're pretty much akin to being
treated as such, as, i dare say,
punctuation marks without actually being punctuation
markers... they allow for a flow of ideas,
for a flow of a narrative...

cuntish ******* filth if you ask me:
but i do wash my teeth on a regular basis
and i do eat healthily...

6. 1 in 10 Brits is burned-out by dating...
   & dating apps...
                                       don't know... never used
any... i'm still archaic in that i still have
a Facebook account...

7. 71% of men feel a pressure to be in relationships
compared to 58% of women...

as the list goes on... am i, supposed to feel, surprised?!

8. a 16% increase in those living alone...
9. 1 in 6 between the ages of 45 & 64 live alone
10. 48% of "singletons" (women) feel a pressure
to find a partner based off of their social
relationships... men work, together...
******* socialising... ******* with the banter...
the chit-chat... what are we doing,
where are we doing it, how long will it take?
base... women do all that private revelry *******...

11. women are more likely so say that a relationship
is unsatisfactory...  
              well... yeah... look sharp, Sherlock!
Watson's coming! ******* plonkers for plumbers!

12. there are three other facts, but they are
citing **** without numbers...
so... i'm not going to bother... based on feels...   yawn...
it's much easier to just recite lyrics from
the Garbage song: Stupid Girl...
you pretend you're high,
you're pretend you're bored,
pretend you're everything,
just to be adored...
and what you need, is what you get...
don't believe in fear...
don't believe in faith,
don't believe in anything,
that, you can't break...
stupid girl... stupid girl..
all you've had you've wasted...

oh, my god, is it my job to warn them off?!
HE will ask: and how ws your life...
i've lived with cats enough time to know:
and HE will ask... never mind: it be be a SHE...
and IT will ask... and ask... are you
awake... as if... implying: do you think you're dead?!

the rest of the article...
the pinnacles of female freedom...
i'm not going to cite them they're disgusting....
she goes through *******
cosmic concepts and premonitions that
are less grounded in the sands of Arabia
by a horses' hoof than a camel "toe"...

these wankers want to come up north and
dictate the ******* rules...
dictate this... change my ******* mind!
******* plop of a soppy **** that you..
quasi-***** seem to be...
kiddy-fiddlers... you soppy losers...
cousin-*******... camel-jockeys...
weak... quasi-men...
men... sort of...

          i'm not going to go through her article...
she's a sorry *** loser
by the standards expected of men...
no sorry... kind ***...
men band together....
  all as one... or none: to begin with!
and you women, think,  "think"...
you can somehow infiltrate our ranks...
what? you gonna bake me a bannana loaf
worth of loaf..
with all the pecan / walnut "trimmings"...
girl... you're having a ******* laugh...

i'm not reading through this *******...
you want me to bite someone's neck?
no one has yet seen how feral i can could become...
at the job...  i could just roll my eyes back
declaring nothing but sclera...
again: why are women even involved
in this sort of *******?!
why?! are?! you? *******!! here!! ypu,
******* useless, *****?!

i'm here to pick up a fight...
but here you are, pretending to be
a ******* grandma... and that's your excuse...
*****, i hope you get your head sorted,
get punched.... silly ******* cucnt...
oh right... my excuse among the football
hooligans... i'm i woman!
don't touch me! i'n your sister, your mother...
this **** is going to boil...
you tell me that ****, one, more,
******* time... i'm going to 'ed in yurr
******* grandm'ah...!
i know these *****... women are playing
a tight game...

esp. when you... ***** yourselves......
Rotherham didn't ******* help...
you ******* cheap **** ******...
i keep tight, silent, because...
i've been to brothels... but this ****...
i'm not even English... this... sort of hurts...
it, can't be, allowed, an outlet,
via... football, matches...
no, mate, no!

   your sister has been suckered into *******
this... sickle- cell anemia sort of *****
from Pakistan...
oh don't worry about theit race...
they don't have a skin tone...
their skin tone... if any:
cant's miss 'em... slimey *****...
olive oil slimey...
in-bred looking *****... *****-eyeds...
sorry... some people just look
******* clueless! period!
like they're out of "the game"...
they're gone... they're meat for the machinery!
the end! sorry... stop sopping:
no one's special!
weird like... Frankenstein looking
at the monster he created... seriously?!
i, made... that? oh, **** me...
better **** it... but wait...
oh... a chance he might transcendent me...
no... not with these kiddy-fidddling Pakistanis...
chances are... the ******* 4 seasons on
the continent of Antacrtica!
jeffrey robin Nov 2014
(                                   )
x         x

O

<>

/|\
/\



Will I meet you
                                                        Somewher­e?

Someday soon

Someday when it still matters?

Will the Truth appear ?

//////            

Will we still have some
                                              Strength ?

Or any sense of what we are ?

A feeling of pure innocence ?

A reason to love  each other still ?

//

Must a god come from some sky ?

Must we watch the suffering ?

Watch some **** or watch some die ?

Or just stand indifferently ?

•••       •••

Oh !

This feeling of unceasing pain !

Oh

The utter lack of human empathy !

The FEAR !

//

The indescribability

Of what's really happening



Still

Still

I

Shall be true as can be

Free

Free

There is no end in sight

Of the power of love

Of the power of the Light
Corey J Grace Feb 2012
I have trouble coping you.
I really struggle to handle what you manifest.

It's only through sheer force of will
and a glaring lack of skill
that I manage this...overload.
Every kiss is of trepidation.
Leaving the sweet taste of elation.
A fascination with every breath your taking.
So lost I am in this love infused awakening.
Like watching a million roses bloom red hot,
with whatever passion fuels love.
In this ethereal field I'm held caught.
With only the ability to spew such smarmy adoration.
Almost completely lacking of thought, sense, or annunciation.
No less heartfelt or without the weight of sincerity.
In every word, oath, emotion, thought or change you make in me.
Changes that come unwilling but not unwanted.
Now dreams are the stuff of life and by life I am haunted.
This is the discovery of real love,
a desperate thirst and need that you can never sate.
The medium through which you can dream of loftier things like fate.
This and all that is beyond surpasses all its worth.
Because for a moment, we are greater than all the earth.
Mark Sep 2018
Between my sense and love; I duel both
since newly roses lay upon my bed
for I cannot in just - accept to oath
as I'd concede my merit worth for wed.

My seams are withered next to youth in pair
each crinkle peeks their weight and furrows deep,
towards my reason's home and billows there
and bids to our affair be put asleep.

Tho' beauty greets the morn' as summer light
and fills my blemished chasms with lava glow
that pours on aging years a lulling bright
then unto where my love resides; would flow.

Resist no more! Her golden tempt demure
deserve I not, yet what will age assure!
Am the sun,

It shines bright,
Gets the planets light.

Its stays still,
makes the rest round at it's will.

It burns all day
gives life all way

Never takes a path,
but aligns the rest like it took an oath

Despite burning and shining,
Term it's fate, it has to stay alone.
A lone king, whom everyone is in need.
But no one would near.
Am the sun, The Lone king.

Am the moon,
I borrow light,
I seem to shine, but am dark inside.

Am the rain,
My tears are always beautiful to  others.

Am this dormant volcano,
who  people know is a volcano,
but never scared  of.

Am this sea,
constantly kissing the shores,
which can i never own,
Deep calm inside,
violent outside.

Am this paradox,who
knows never anything
of what I'am nor what I'am to  be.
a picture may be worth a thousand words
but until you paint me a *******
two will have to do
fingerpainting
SøułSurvivør Sep 2015
~~~<♡>~~~

a rose, they say, will have a thorn
which can't destroy nor ****
it only serves to give its bloom
a scent that's sweeter still
when the tender growing thing
is planted in the dust
no water for it's thirsty roots
only drying crust
it will be a cactus
full of prickly spines
but cacti have their flowers
their fruit can make rich wine
we all have our emotions
we all can feel pain
but when it makes us better
then only love remains
when we are hurt and wounded
on my very oath
we can still be grateful
such stoic trust brings

GROWTH


soulsurvivor
(C) 9/3/2015
I'm hurting right now
But I will not be bitter
I will be better
God will never give me
more than I can handle
Upon my oath
there's a sloth in my bed and
I do declare
that the sloth on my oath is me.
I shall be free of this laziness
I shall get up
and dress.
I will go that extra mile in a while,I
just need a little more sleep.
If I keep this thought in my head then
the sloth in my bed is at peace but
time will not cease because I'm not there
it will go on, of this I am sure but
to be surer still
I will get up and activate the coffee *** so I can take
my morning cup of deep dark roast,
make a slice or two of toast
and cogitate on what to do and where.
The sloth in bed has read my mind
I find I'm already there.
farahD Oct 2014
Side by side,
Body and soul,
Eternally grateful,
In each other's life,
For it takes two,
In this long journey to oath.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2021
Banners over us,
reminders of the first signed sigil waved
to mean something
to watching eyes,
fleets follow the highest flown flag,
designated leader, the kings sigil says so, so
as pledged, we go where the flag leads, then

just yesterday, I learned
of this ritual,
and I recalled the honor
of learning
to fold this flag.
This symbol,
for which it is noble
to die,
some do even dare
to teach this ritual to a select few,
fatherless, fearless, fungible future
first team something common sensitive.
exchange aitia cause for excuse
-- this world is folded implicitly, syllable
after
thump whump sigh,
a cough, to clear a lacquer of phlegm,
syllable, forming peace in time,
sit back, truth or dare,
do you believe in folded world symbols?

Have you a sacred flag? Final symbol showing
fungible duty done, paid in full.
Honor where honor is earned as endurance, that's all.

Endure to the end, making peace with childish
yous you meet at life's sharp end.

There was a committee who invented this ritual,
proud were those who fit the entire myth
true rest, freedom of thought, word, and deed,
in return,
fair and square, peace and safety and more meat
and milk than men should ever eat, but
what the hell, we won, we stole all their cows,…

pledged, initiated, used to abuse the worth of wrong
ideas… core right, correct, recht at once, stalility

ifity, wobbledy goop… did you learn this on your own?

"The first fold of our Flag is a symbol of life.

The second fold is a symbol
of our belief in eternal life.
{so the first must mean mortal life eh}

The third fold is made
in honor and remembrance
of the veterans departing our ranks who gave a portion
of their lives for the defense
of our country
to attain peace throughout the world.
{sounds fishy, attain peace, hmmm,
by being ready to give your own pound of flesh,
get some skin in the game.
Make up a mind that matches the imitation. }

The fourth fold represents our weaker nature;
{ I am not making this up}
for as American citizens trusting, GOD-
it is to Him {whom? wombed or un} we turn in times
of peace as
well as in time
of war
for His divine guidance.
{marching as to war…skip step stutter, cross this bridge}

-- meaning 4:
: a structural unit of a definable syntactic, semantic, or phonological category that consists of one or more linguistic elements (such as words, morphemes, or features) and that can occur as a component of a larger construction

From <https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/constituent>

Enfold your flapping mind, in my world, school starts
in one week, and Grandma is in Idaho, with old friends.
The two tweens are radiating readiness, prepping
to not appear to be as weird as Grandpa,
but, still, knowing, least said,
soonest mended, wait to know what's next, fold
in silence… Our sample flag was earned on Iwo Jima,
where Don Wourms watched his basic buddy die.

"I did nothing right, I survived", me, too, echoing

The fifth fold is a tribute to our country,
for in the words of Stephen Decatur,
"Our Country, in dealing
with other countries
may she always be right;
but it is still our country, right or wrong."
{Yep, no lie, by sixth grade, 12th year on Earth,
there is the lie, regarding trust, duty, & honor.
Plato said Socrates said,
Guardians must be bred and nurtured, fed
the duty and honor, brother closer than friend,
teammate, rowers on the same bench,

boom}

The sixth fold is for where our hearts lie.
It is with our heart that we pledge allegiance
to the Flag of the United States of America,
and to the Republic
for which it stands, one Nation
under God, indivisible,
with liberty and justice
for all.
-- 13 fold, 48 ply

There are series of numbers that mean nothing,
and sums that can find a link, a mental
tic take a thoughtmmmm
thirteen habits has the seedmmmmmhmm
thirteen folds in the star spangled banner.
thirteen stripes folded within blue heavensmmmhmmm
- unlucky number thirteen
- contentintensity semantic tic BAT

The seventh fold is a tribute {something owed whom?}
to our Armed Forces,
{The entire complex economic entity}
for it is through the Armed Forces that we
protect our country and our
flag
against all her enemies,
whether they are found within or
without the boundaries of our Republic.

{ be me, that boy, the one with the paper route.
selected to be the flag folder for fridays, 1960-
leading the class into a weekend of fun
being good citizens, stopping, looking, listening
marching for dimes and publisher's clearing house}

The eighth fold is a tribute {that's the word, you owe}
to the one who entered
into the valley of the shadow of death,
that we might see the light of
day, and

to honor mother, for whom it flies
on Mother's Day.

{fact check all you wish, this is the ritual,
it ain't a sacred secret, it's spiritual as hallowe'en}

The ninth fold is a tribute
to womanhood;
for it has been
through their faith, their love, loyalty
and devotion
that the
character
of the men and women
who have made this country great
has been molded.

{Dis try t' trump thet, patriophathemphatical, know 't all}

The tenth fold is a tribute {eh, patriot, pay the price}
to the father, for he too,
has given his sons and daughters
for the defense
of our country since
they were first born. {The children were sold}

{{}
- HONEST, chile, we sold you for goodness sakes
- you had to survive the learning
- to hold the knots of knowns left idle,
- as any oath unaccounted for,
- I swear, we swear some curses unawares,
- and those echo back as strangersmmm
- white noise sssorting questions
spark
The program that made the mind tools we use,
voltron, chess, appletalk space wars, in 1986,

very strange, the reappearing highschool connection,
very American looking, gamer aimed plots

dot to dot
seeing secret patterns, imagining inside the folded
weltanshaung squirrelled world, put away,
to be unfurled one fine daymmmm

blue skies, my friend. Finish the folds - 1960}


The eleventh fold, in the eyes
of a Hebrew citizen represents the lower portion
of the seal
of King David and King Solomon,
and glorifies
in their eyes,
the God
of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

The twelfth fold,
in the eyes
of a Christian citizen, represents an emblem
of eternity and glorifies,
in their eyes,
God the Father, the Son and Holy Spirit.
{I do feel like this bit of truth is
too strange to have known, are there rewards for this?
Is it a preboneman rite of passage,
done to become the meaning knower,
holder of the knack the leader of the fold team holds,
the knowledge as to why,
we do things right, or not at all.}

The thirteenth fold:
When the Flag is completely folded,
the stars are uppermost
reminding us
of our Nation's motto,
"In God We Trust."  {since 1956}
After the Flag is completely folded and tucked in,
it takes on the appearance of a cocked hat,
ever {riiight}
reminding us of the soldiers
who served
under
General George Washington,
and the Sailors and Marines
who served
under
Captain John Paul Jones,
who were followed
by their comrades and shipmates
in the Armed Forces
of the United States, preserving
for us the rights, privileges, and freedoms
we enjoy today.
{freedom of the press does belong to the one
who uses the common media - so far,
soo so good… this era in my sovereign real estate}

-- admin reviewed this, there are mental peace niks
planting confusion bombs on free way emergency
exits…
bass beats whump whump, feel it in y'teeth…

the vision in context fades… a final seal set
the teacher tells the disciple to carry the message
inside… know know
why you dare die for the story that formed your
child's mind. Look at your own kid, what you did.

BTDT. BTW, fold it up and put it away.

"The next time you see a Flag ceremony
honoring someone that has served our country,
either in the Armed
Forces or
in our civilian services such as
the Police Force or Fire Department,
keep in mind all the important
reasons behind each and every movement.
They have paid the ultimate sacrifice
for all of us by honoring our
Flag and our Country.

--- so did I blaspheme? I swear I had only
a boy's philosophy…

ping to 2021, hear my grand daughter prepping
for school in Descanso, listening to an audio book,
with the hero character a teen, mortal Apollo,

and the evil representative…
I listen, that immortal voice, Caligula's last mind
left in songs, sung as true, no lie

No lie,
passes untold, when in time, the implicit unfolds

and the edge dwellers, see jesus represented
in the widow's mites exchanged for motes
clanged
and sparked to say,

I know, who you think I am, my ad.
Click bait, fair fungible, win by a little tiny bit,
GO.

That is the game, three moves for each atom
in all we imagine our augmented eyes have seen.

AI do use the common store of knowns,
growing exponent opponent potentially ever
after
this…

for a while, why imagine hell was ever real?
as adjustments occur
to your way of seeing time as a whole truth
u u u ambig u u u is us ambigu is ous oy vwey
hayah hayah
Verdana Oct 2013
You do not see me -
I've seen the world reflected
in your distant eyes.

You do not feel me -
clenched around your heart beating
fast as humming birds.

You do not speak me -
out in the night, thin in the dark
like an empty oath.

You do not find me -
in the sky, sea, city, trees
where my mind wanders.

You do not touch me -
behind my eyes, beneath my soul.
It shrinks away.

You do not see me -
The gap you leave, it left you whole.
I fade away.
Jimmy Hegan May 2016
"Blessed be the  Lord God of Israel,
for he has looked favorably
on his people and redeemed  them,
He has raised up a mighty savior for us
in the house of his servant David,
as he spoke through the
mouth of his holy
prophets from of old,
that we would be saved
from our enemies and
from the hand of all who hate us.
Thus he has shown the
mercy promised to our ancestors,
and has remembered his holy covenant,
the oath that he swore to our ancestor Abraham,
to grant us that we ,being rescued from the hands of our enemies,
might serve him without
fear, in holiness  and righteousness
before him all our days.
And you,child, will be called
the prophet of the Most High;
for you will go before the
Lord to prepare his ways,
to give knowledge of
salvation  to his people
by the forgiveness of their sins.
By the tender mercy of our God,
the dawn from on high will
break upon us.
to give light to those who sit
in darkness and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the way of peace."
LUKE (1:67-79)
Brea Brea Jun 2013
and I still get very nostalgic
about the first boy I kissed
and the tentacles of it
not light and fluffy at all
he was my best friend
and I get very alarmed by this life
and how short it can fall
he used to say that
"nobody gets me like you do."
but I didnt know who he was
I still dont know who or what is behind that cloak of darkness
what real stories are behind that bookshelf
and it was alarming and scary and DANGEROUS
and thats how I feel
but who's to know what I feel
because I like it that way
you'll never know whats on my heart
on my mind, on my mind, on my mind
running
in loops
because
it's ****** alarming, and scary and DANGEROUS
its what makes me do what I do
lately
on your computer
The urge to violate the trust
because I am suddanly fearful
that the boy that I love is doing what I said he could
because I wanted your love
I still need it
and here I am
moving in with you
and it's racing in my mind
where's Sonia gonna sleep?
WHERE'S SONIA GONNA SLEEP?
In our bed?
no, your bed
but in my head its OUR bed
the one in which I CAN ALWAYS FIND SLEEP
and its killing me inside
because I said you could because I wanted you to
and I've always been like that
freedom
freedom to those I LOVE!
but I'm crippled when I'm with you
my mind and logic are lopsided
because I'm in LOVE WITH YOU
and it hurts!
I'm FAIR and RIGHTOUS and BALANCED
but it's like you walked on into there
and you hold and grasp
and the tables become violently upturned
and the vases all break
shards of glass and water is EVERYWHERE
EMBEDED in my memory
in the walls of my beating heart
and the glass is carried throughout my blood vessels
and I'm PRAYING, PRAYING, PRAYING
Oh god AM I PRAYING
that a  little peice should find its way to a major artery
and do me in there!
put an end to my painful existence in your sweet and tender arms
but then
WAIT! STOP!
I'M IN LOVE! AND I LIKE IT HERE!
PLEASE DONT **** ME!
So that I dont feel an ounce of pain
before it hits me like a rock
****** from my heart down to my GUTS
ITS A MERCY KILLING!
Have MERCY on my heart!
ITS TENDER!
BEHIND ITS FAIR, RIGHTOUS WALLS
IT'S SENT CHAOTIC
DISTURBED BY HOW DEEPLY IT FEELS
HOW DEEPLY IT CONNECTS
AND HOW DEEPLY YOU REACH ME THERE!
MAKE IT STOP
BEFORE I MYSELF AM SENT INTO SHARDS
MY PSYCHE IN SUTURES
I DONT LET MYSELF HURT
I GO STRAIGHT TO SCAR TISSUE
Because I made an OATH to myself to NEVER GO BACK THERE AGAIN!!!
but your healing touch is egging me on
reaching me slowly
and its killing me
with feathery kiss
so kiss her
so make love to her
and I will struggle with the fact that I know
as a Christian God would know
that I am special to you
that I am yours
that nobody will replace me
as you yourself have said
with words and soul parts
and intimate parts
because I value your freedom in the way you value mine
in the way that lights me up
and sets me free
but still I will loose my senses
because thats the first sign that I've allowed myself to feel
to be in love
with you
Ace Malarky Nov 2016
0



1

beat

1

beat

2

heart beat

3

right toe wiggle

5

right eye wink
hand open

8

place feet
on ground
stumble toward
mighty sound

13

must cry,
mustn't fall behind
drizzle kiss thy face
with dew
      amen, amen

21

may ears be deaf
to wicked lies
from cruelty, dread
I shield thy eyes
      softly spoke the truth
            whisper,
                   sleeping babe

34

lay thy being at thy fate
tousle I thy downy pate
      wouldn't solemn oath be kept
if demons lost their minds and
      wept?
Break them, they are within reach.
May strike land true.

55

wander toward thy destiny.
A carpet wove of dreams,
rolls ahead, lays a path,
tearing at the seams.
I lift thy body to the moon,
      Earth was in my way at noon.
couldn't dig like I know I must.
      When we get there we'll be dust

Heavens bless our journey,
      give us rest.
Dawnstar Jul 2018
What would a soldier sacrifice
To lay himself on cobbled dirt,
That honestmen might vow by oath
To hold together the union?

His purse, his purpose, e'en his life,
Our knight would place on hallowed earth;
The silker, though, would rather beg
To hold together the union.

In victory's arms I sleep at night,
Beneath the fierce pharoanic sun
That built and broke the Umayyads
To hold together the union.

I traveled all the ancient lands,
I found no joy where'er I trod;
Ferns are green where rivers spring,
But lauded hills bear blackened soil,
And joy resides where dwelleth God.

The dawn of man is close at hand,
The fall of man is past its due;
The sword lies shattered in the sand
To hold together the union.

Cross-battles waged on crisping ice,
I won't for martial fame partake,
In fear that I would be obliged
To hold together the union.

Of mortal faith I haven't cared
But, lying now on cobbled dirt,
By faith, I solemnly declare
To hold together the union.
Lawrence Hall Jan 2017
The Admiral Who Tells the Youth of America to Make Up Their Beds

One is pleased to note that an admiral
A brave example of American exceptionalism
Who commands emails and fleets and his resume’
Possesses the skill to make up his bed
Give him another shiny medal for that
That should keep him amused and out of your way

A sailor and a monk must make their beds
At Reveille and Matins, dutifully
Subject to obedience under oath
For tidying up is a liturgical act
Each act in its own small way leading to
That one great Way of God’s eternal love

But if you’re not a sailor or a monk
You may well be blessed with a lover to kiss
A dog to pet, a child to love, a cup
Of coffee to be embraced passionately
Make celebrating the dawn with indolence
Your oath of obedience to needful things

Mussed pillows are fine for laying down your head
So
Disobey the admiral – don‘t make up your bed.
November Rain Apr 2016
I talk to myself about things I've done,
About flowers, a child, two becoming one.
And the tears can't stop the road I'm on,
I'd stop for directions, but they're all wrong.
Watch it drain from their eyes,
Like winning nothing but a lifeless prize.
Once queen of the castle of the Empire we'd made
It fell down on us all with nothing to be saved.
For a second the flame was still there,
The tears fell down my cheeks into my hair.
Fear shook the boards and the place where under us both,
I tried to hold back without breaking the oath.
Now we lie in the sin that we are,
I forgot all the lines to playing my part.
Casualties of the people we have become
Wanting to taste the loss of coming undone.
JFK
The assassination of President John F. Kennedy
To many this has always been an unsolved Mystery

JFK was shot in Dallas, Texas on the 22 of November
We are still mourning him, and will always remember

Abraham Zapruder had no idea what he'd be filming
Would be under scrutiny by the public for viewing

Some said the shots came from the grassy knoll
Where they came from no one will ever know

Jackie Kennedy in terrible shock, crawled out onto the limousine
She could not recall doing this, when the Secret Service Intervened

Walter Cronkite reported this shocking news to us in tears
And in all his years of work, he will forever be revered

Jackie in her blood stained suit stood beside Lyndon B. Johnson
When he took the oath of office to be next president of our nation

Oswald told the world that he was a patsy
Jack Ruby shooting him on TV was ghastly

Life Magazine chronicled the events
Filling each page with all JFK contents

To this day there still are reenactments and movies
And everyone like me still feels this is newsworthy

Published in the Crawfordsville, Indiana newspaper Nov. 2024

Copyright 2013
All Rights Reserved
Biko Dylan Jan 2015
In the entirety of my sobriety.
I realized I'm high off life
and belong to a special society.

The uncommon and the weird

We wear a language of mystery
Seeping through the walls of our secrecy
Tip-toeing into galaxies
Not known by the Forgery

And so when they ask us "how do you do?"
We reply by saying "super" as their minds move over
With stars in their eyes something similar to a supernova

And then You as you are will see a black hole
And You'll think the hole is in the wall and You'll come closer

We're the uncommon and the weird
What do You know about expression
And exposure?

We turn average pathways
Into nostalgic lanes
Twisting your fairy tales
From great friendly giants
To interrupted miscommunication

Living in a world
Who will never understand
Rolling our tongues
Trying to express the disparity

Hush, hush
Don't share
Sworn by oath
"Never tamper there, those kids are special dear"

And

We once exposed these certain words
These certain secrets of inner worlds

To a reader like you

That reader bellowed

"I'm neither here nor there
You're nowhere...
and yet you're everywhere

Here...

I believe
I'll never tamper there
I believe
Those kids are special dear

I believe
Being the real you is special, yeah"

Take a pen and make a note
This society rules deeper than your coat
Deeper than your veins

When stranded and mishap become
Your middle names
Welcome to
The Uncommon and the Weird
Co-writing often has an amazing outcome. This is a piece I co-wrote with a very talented writer (and friend) by the name of Lauren Pillay
Frisk Jan 2014
like backpedaling on a bicycle, after getting my bags and
burning the rest of the kisses you stole from me, you ran
back into me, making my life chaos and showing this ridiculous
front you painted on your face like clown makeup smiling
effortlessly acting like i didn't bleed you out of my veins, like
i didn't train my heart to swear under an oath not to paint you
back into my picture, maybe you know what i'm talking about,
nothing is perfectly in order for me and the tables turn before
i get a chance to come to a realization that the traction between
us is like fingers against a chalkboard, it's back and forth constant
fear of these red strings i can't seem to cut with my safety
scissors as fingers and i am a small miniscule vessel at war with
this violent storm mother nature sheds onto me, coloring
me in blue and black war paint but i will fight back this time
and i will not teeter on the edge and prevent biting my tongue


- kra
Jared Eli Oct 2013
I've been sitting on the fence too long
Too long have I allowed myself
The luxury of not committing
Of simply sitting
Sitting on the fence

I must commit to something
Anything but myself
For I am too far gone
An untamed lawn
Filled with broken bottles

Left or right in or out up or down
Where do my loyalties lie?
Some days I want war
But an oath I swore
To be a pacifist eternal
Glenn McCrary May 2012
Cacophonous were the echoes of yesteryear
In the face of unyielding fear they flourished
Oblivious to their imagistic cataclysm I dwindled
Who had known of such a fate to have married?


Theatrical strands of faith and vindication
Gradually descended upon each square
The sun’s oath had risen to fruition
Beauteous framework begins to evolve
Bearing the august seeds of revelation


Answers in which I sought
Rested within pendulum clocks
As throughout my life
Many webs they have spun


Amongst tribulations I have toured
By not a second did hope age
A novelty twas the leaf
Upon which I have turned
Damian Murphy Apr 2015
Memories of times long past
Memories that seem to last
One thing I remember, it was special to me
Is the hideout known as The Loose Tooth Tree.

It was in a hedge where many trees did grow
It looked nothing special if you didn’t know
But for me and my pals it was something just ours
where we could escape for hours and hours.

It was completely covered with dark green ivy
Though the roots were loose, making it quite shaky
But once inside you were impossible to see
Ideal for a hideout we named the Loose Tooth Tree.

Though you could see out cross the fields everywhere
If you were quiet no one knew you were there.
Keeping it secret was just half the fun
An oath of secrecy was sworn by everyone.

Bits and bobs from everywhere made it our own
A great place to be, with the gang or alone
Jokes and stories were told, there was great laughter
And yes we discussed girls, and the ones we were after.

We had blackjacks, fruitsalads and bullseyes too
Time bars and curly wurlys that took ages to chew
A place to relax where there was no sense of hurry
We were so young sure we didn’t have a worry

We used it for cowboys and indians, hide and seek
The rare risqué mag there did we peek
Indeed it is where I tried my first smoke
When my pals were convinced I was going to choke.

We ambushed the boys from Clongowes when they came to town
Yes us boys from the Terrace gained some renown
It was all good clean fun, just fisticuffs back then
And didn’t it help us all on our journey from boys to men

We were Smiths and Nevins, Murphys and Callans
Dorans and Behans, Delaneys and Ryans
All from St Brigids and so proud of the fact
“No outsiders allowed” was a part of the pact

We had bags of crisps that cost only two pence
Wore platform shoes so high they didn’t make sense
Flared collars so wide we were in danger of flight
We had hair so long it often interfered with sight.

We listened to the Osmonds, the Monkees and Status Quo
We loved Abba and Gary Glitter (how were we to know)
We loved the Waltons, Top Cat and the Flintstones, yabadabadoo
Little House on the Prairie, Shirley Temple, and the Little Rascals too

Yes The Loose Tooth Tree belonged to St. Brigid’s Terrace
But as more houses went up other kids proved a menace
Two bits of wood and a nail, we all had a sword to fight
and peg guns proved effective if the aim was right.

We decided to make up a language all of our own
What we were saying others had no way of knowing
Not parents nor priests, not teachers or anyone
And we had such mighty craic, it was so much fun.

It was an innocent time, we were all boys growing
Our lives were changing without us really knowing
In the Loose Tooth Tree we were all good friends together
Making memories that would stay with each of us forever

It was during the seventies in my home town of Clane
Upon leaving ‘twas two decades ‘til I saw it again
To my dismay the Loose Tooth Tree was no more
But it will live on in my memory for evermore.
I wrote your name on a cigarette.
And smoked it on my balcony.
Each lungful, thus ingested,
lets you reside in me.

Across the water
Allhallows gleams, unknowing.
Where, at some previous point
we were separated by simple geography.

If cigarettes were wishes
I'd have died soon death,
in rattling, emphysemic pursuit
of long-lost love.

Simple geography
can never trump
the complicated, honest reality
of time and place.

The cigarette glows in my hand
reminding me that, as love,
time veils promises
however potent.

There are only eight cigarettes left
in the whole world.
Perhaps I'll leave them, growing stale
in their hidden box.

Or, maybe, I'll smoke them all
today.
Then forget
what I ought to have forgot.

For sake of placid honesty
and goodwill, told in truth.
Time is a lying healer
and I'm on a liar's oath.
I AM Exhalted above the stars
I AM clothed by omnipotent LOVE
I have bore eternal scars
THE SPIRIT descends upon me as a Dove

You are my Opposer
You are the essence of Fallen
Banished from receiving condolence
Seeking out whose name has been callen

In Heaven,You once abide
Before the cast down to mortals,
In Hell I had to arrive
To overthrow sins portals

Humanity bows before us both-
In God I have and claim MY Oath:
That one of us will downwards desend
And every Soul will bend
As the RISEN,I will Amend
As my opposer, your day will End

I AM who I AM
I AM the bearer Of TRUTH
The Living SACRAFICED
Man"s only REDEMPTION
Life Eternally
---X---
I AM I AM LOVE -THE SPIRIT-MY RISEN
I AM I AM I AM TRUTH SACRAFICED REDEMPTION
Martin Narrod Feb 2017
I will never remove you from my brain's synapses altogether,
Particles, dust-speckles, piceous ashes of you, broken half of
Where the crowning splinter lies.
Heffalump-bray, Big-bird whistle, and feverish laughter
Sink from your tiny lips.
It's worse than preschool television programming.

Maybe you consider yourself a god.
Mouth-rush, crooked sickle-spine, of the cranes' dead oath,
Or like some hindered devil at the reeds on your tongue.
Seven years I have worked with the crutch, and worried

Like arc-lightning, thickly-paned, frail as a frostbow,
Palely lit uvula at the glowing alter.
I am none closer now. To amend the acres where my feet wallow blindly.
The shivering, baroque, tumuli where my splinters clear my steel-hide.

An orchestral bow of crimson blight,
I had dredged supinely through the pithy Latin vowels.
Like the month of a flower, hitched to the acanthine wings of a moth.
The moon clung to your shivers and sickness.

No longer can I keep my hair to frosty old anarchies.
Nights, heaped on the bowels of a smoky weir.
The blank stones that struck my hands of warning.
Beside the clogged, rancorous doom I had reflected
MysticRiddleton Feb 2018
It's when you smile
With a genuine smile;
Not a laughter within
An obscure smirk

That when you write
"I love you"
I see your blood
Inked with eternal warmth;
The life that lives willfully
Abides by each letter of love.

And when I say the same,
I hear your heart's rhythm,
Full of eager wishes;
I could read them all too soon.

Now I see you kneeling down
Submissive as my hand -
As if it has my heart -
You softly take it down
And gently fit a ring

A ring of covenant
That bonds a lifetime oath
That we would both fulfill
Because we do
marry,
Merrily, we do.
Engagement is a discernment process; not to be jusgmental in a negative way but to ensure a lifetime covenant.
wolf mother Feb 2014
BOO
making a playlist titled you you you
taking a pill at the **** zoo
******* fools wasted on the pavement
chasing waists on the pavement

i'm tired of these ******* games you're playing
tic tac toes on the cusp of my aortic valve
**** hippocratic oath falsifying fingerprints

i am to you, just an oddball goodfornothing sonofabitch
semi-sweet curvature of the lungs
tar-coated nail-biting feminist *****
some uppity analyzing self-righteous bore

well *******, too, then
*******, too
i'll do alright in the world, got some chew
that i'll spit out a rhyme with, all that hullabaloo
i am those whos, on a dead *** dandelion making wishes on elephants (such buffoons)
and finding that donkeys are nothing but mumbling tools
roughass
Shayla Jade Dec 2013
Love enters when you least expect;
that night surprised them both.
Their reunion had been so perfect,
that night they swore an oath.

Wrapped in his arms, the sunlight peaked
when morning came again.
Memories of the night had leaked
to everyone but them.

Oh misery, please stay with me,
there’s nothing to forget.
The skies are prettier at sea
when storms are on the threat.

He tripped her up, and she fell hard,
but catch her he did not.
For him she let down her guard,
but he had wished she fought.

Oh misery, please stay with me,
I do not wish to part.
Please, won’t you keep me company
beside my lonely heart?

Before she knew it, he was gone
to keep the village safe.
She never felt she could belong,
her life forever changed.

He said he’d love her ‘til the end,
she never questioned why.
Always his name she would defend;
she loved him ‘til she died.

He should have warned her when he left
he’d be forever gone.
He stole her heart, an act of theft,
she’d wait forever long.
MBishop Oct 2014
I feel like there should be a great poem spawning from this blatant attack on my heart
With linguistic tips and turns coinciding with my emotion
But that's just it.
There is none.
You have drained every last ounce of feeling from my body
So, naturally, when you made a big and public spectacle of how you desire her
I stood there stone-faced, frozen in stoical silence
The perfect poker face, you'll never catch my bluff
I saw that glance in my direction and smiled in return
That classic fake smile that never meets my dead eyes like a forged signature on an oath that avers everything's all right
Whisper .....
Private and Confidential
Both on oath
To wrestle and sweat
on the plank of blinking light
in the pirated privacy
to a gasping breath
in the light of darkness
                till
one loses to the other
and win each other
simultaneously
Lest winning alone
is more shameful
than the game itself
Dim light more delight!
The end of the game!!
Bassam Dec 2009
Even if
I'm too real to fake
To feel, to break,
To steal, to take
Too Rigid to endure
Too clean, too pure
Too heartless, too fragile
Too hopeless, yet agile.

Even though
I'm too without flaw,
Without recklessness or law
A standard oath I read
Of blood red and
Passions I do bleed.

Oddly enough
I'm at wits' end
Purpose purged
And soul to mend
Tend to the strong,
How long how long
Until confusion
Within is gone.

Odd as it may be
My heart confined
My mind set free
Even with the maker
I shall cease to exist
A contemplator
Shall rise above mist.
Tanvi Bird Jan 2015
All my problems can not revolve around my issues with J or Lucifer or G. They may make me sad sometimes, as I placed a lot of expectations within these people. However, they are their own people. They live for themselves, not for me. They have their own hopes (even Lucifer's biggest dream of having light skinned children), and who am I to judge or interfere?

No, I shall live for myself. During the weekends, I get so caught up in helping my little brother or mother that I don't take enough time to catch up on my ****. My little brother doesn't pay attention. He just talks and talks and requires a lot of attention just to keep him focused. He drains my energy at the end.

Why do I help people? Why don't I just run away? When I was little, only thing keeping me here was the occasional kind smiles my father gave me on the rare occasions he said hello to me at home.

Now, it is my youngest brother. If I go, he will not be successful, because they aren't good at looking after him.

2 weeks ago, J's friend D texted me about class and etcetera. I responded with an enthusiastic and funny response- something about cleaning with baking soda and vinegar. Eventually, he amicably manipulated me into re-visiting the notion of having a group dinner along with J.

I texted to let her know, and she ignored it for a week. I don't know what is wrong with her. Why doesn't she let it go, the fact that G liked me and not her? Who the heck cares that someone thinks I am prettier? That's subjective anyway.

What a strained friendship it is. When I tried to address it, she deflected by saying she was mad at something else. She said she didn't want to have dinner. When I told her I was in the same painting class as him, she coldly responded that it doesn't matter, she didn't ask, and she doesn't want to know. Obviously, she's outraged. She's thought about this so much, that she has started to hate me. It's her own insecurities. I can't blame myself. Maybe my critical behavior post graduation contributed to her hating me, I don't even remember what I may have said. I remember I had been extremely frustrated with her around that time, and I was terribly insecure. Is this going to be some vicious cycle?

12:15 am

Let's forget about J. Let's talk progress, if any.

I did meet with the State Rep a couple weeks back, and recently asked him for a recommendation letter. He agreed. I applied for one job as well. It is a job I want, but may not meet the average qualifications for. However, I would have made a strong candidate. The position is a counselor at CCP. As someone who has been through the college and graduate school process, and as someone who struggled-- I know how to approach these students. I also know how to help them. I really hope I get an opportunity for an interview at that college. It would be a great first job.

The citizenship interview was last week, and this week will be the oath ceremony.

I tried to apply for a few teaching positions, but they all required some level of certifications and a minimum 3.0 GPA which I don't have. You know what ***** is that I want a second chance. I messed up and did not get the 3.0- and I don't have money to get a teacher's certification. Yet, I know I can do these jobs better than many other teachers.

I did miss last week's career group, I think I had something else going on at the time, but I don't remember what.

I decided to start a professional blog about different topics that I am interested in. Ask my friend To to help, but I don't think he will be that committed. I have to study different professional blogs and see how detailed they are, and how they cite.

Maddison's mother texted me to tutor her daughter pre-midterms this week. I had to reschedule on my friend to another Friday. However, I am still not prepared to teach Maddison. Last week, she didn't contact me at all. And this week, I had planned on getting a lot of job applications done. Ugh.

I haven't accomplished a lot lately. After the issue with D & J dinner, I was anxious, and once the anxiousness left I became this extremely negative and sad ball. It consumed me. I decided not to let her ****** up brain affect me.

I don't think I can really be friends with Chr. Maybe he flirts with everyone, but it bugs me so ******* much. I had asked him to give me some space for a while.

To do his week: return shoes, make 12 copies of career tracking packet, call glasses place, call invisalign place, buy camera film, art supplies, and lip liner, register for race, write cover letters, and study for math.
Carolyne McNabb Aug 2016
Sometimes I ask myself
"Why am I still here?"
but then you take my hand,
I can almost almost taste your smile,
so sweet, my dear.

Everything I hold dear
is in my hand,
in my hair,
the smell of you lingers
and I have to sigh through the tears.

You have stolen my heart,
enraptured my soul,
and devoured me whole.
My mind is tethered yet torn apart
when I think of you and what you've done to me.

Just you wait, my love.
Not much longer, someday,
when I have taken your oath and sealed it
I'll steal you away swiftly.
Swiftly we'll fly across oceans, my dove.

Take my hand,
hold my head to your heart
and remind me that it's mine.
Each beat whispers as soft as desert sand
*"I love you and we'll never be apart."
Francesca Stamps Nov 2012
LETTERS

Letters are written,
Written in blood;
Letters are written,
For those whom we love.
(They are) written with grief
And written with pain
Wanting some love,
And craving for gain.

Letters are written,
With many a furrow;
Letters are written,
Containing much sorrow.
Created with care,
For a loved one to give.
Blooming with love,
Is how I want to live.

Letters are written,
With joy and faith;
Letters are written,
Despite our wraith.
Wanting us to stop,
So we might suffer with him;
But when looking back,
He appears quite dim.
With the same old tricks,
And the same old lie.
Do you think yourself
As better than I?

Letters are written,
Not in hope of profit;
Letters are written,
So we would not regret it.
To rue the oath,
On which we swore;
To concede defeat
We have never before.
Through thick and thin,
Through blood and sweat,
To succeed, we try
And we haven't failed yet.
This was not written by me. This was written by my brother Nicholas Stamps <3
There is falling
and there's FALLING
and I was good at both
I swear to that completely
I'll swear that under oath
If there's a way to take a tumble
A way to fall on down
Then I'm the best example
I've spent a life time on the ground

First, we'll tackle skating
Couldn't cross and make the turn
I'd get caught and then I'd tumble
It's something I never did quite learn
I was always out there falling
While the others skated by
I could never make the motion
So...I no longer even try

Athletics, you know track and field
High hurdles, running track
It's evident, I couldn't jump
So from track I got the sack
Always had weak ankles
Was always falling down
While most kids shorts were crisp and white
Mine were stained all green and brown

I gave up and then tried camping
Just a tent, the woods and me
I never even got out once
I tripped over a tree
I mean, I fell out in the forest
And yes, I made a sound
I mean if anybody heard that noise
It was me hitting the ground

I'm not much good at anything
You can see that from my past
My body moves  at one speed
My feet just go too fast
I've always been a faller
Falling's the one real thing I do
And the last time that I fell
Was the day, that I met you....

— The End —