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Josie Patterson Nov 2014
fueled by alcohol
swollen emotions,
the age of consent
and mistakenly stuck doors
the mutual understanding that comes with a singular passion
singular desire
just one time
but when the clock chimes
1:45
and curfewed kisses are few
you take my hands and sing
"i want to know you"
my fingers weave along my glowing screen
praying your given digits will be well received
and when my phone buzzes
i sigh
for i had tried to not let doubt cloud my mind
but i did not know you yet
and it rarely happens like this
when the clock chimes
6:00 Am
my rosy cheeks wait in the cold mist
a note on the table excusing my absence
a pale faced taxi driver goes through the required motions
to take me to your warm lips
with two hours of sleep
your makeshift bed is the port in a storm
and your slight frame is the sort that initially misleads
but it is powerful and exceeds expectations
the sweet sharing of bad puns
disney songs
and the unexpected "i love you"
the "you have beautiful eyes"
and the mess that is my hair do
i wake you with a warm hand to the hip
and a quick kiss on the lip
reassures me it was the right thing to do
the twang of ukulele
and its warm wood brush over my breast
its hard form against my warm chest
you sing for me
and the poetry that traverses your lips is magic
though slight
you have no trouble maneuvering through my wide rivers
and hidden valleys
my small forests
you flip me with ease
a playful tease
tracing racing and running
soon warm water runs over our shadowy forms
because though forever may be spent in bed
the real world obligates us to move
to shower
in our travels we find ourselves caught in drizzly public transportation
making our way to the place of your occupation
though we are eating for two
you order three breakfasts
making up for the meal missed
replaced with loving
surrounded by kissing
you drink coffee
a quick pick-me-up
i drink a london fog
to remind me of the sleepy morning
and a quick peck to the lips reminds me of the rest
a test of my willpower
my power to resist taking you then and there
though that may have resulted in your termination
so i resist my considered temptation
i take a slight deviation
for every story must end
every sentence
no matter how much love
we must wait for blood
because every hook up,
every sentence
must end with a period.
Nadia MDG Feb 2012
You frown, I frown.
What obligates you?
And to I-why?

Do not we dote;
the elongation
of our tumultuous spirit?

Like a waterfall in pursuit of a sea,
Like weary eyes in need of lubrication,
Like a meowing kitten craving for milk.
Suffice is not.

Ere we beseech serenity
-an equilibrium.

O speak,
From your deepest well
-gay or remorse.

For a mirror, I am not.
http://ridiculousme.wordpress.com/2012/02/03/unmirror/

03 Friday Feb 2012
Marieta Maglas Jun 2015
''It's a fuel crisis, because of the lack of supply, ''
Said Athan, ''many mines exploit lead, copper, and iron.''
''They are smelted with charcoal, which only some people may buy, ''
Said Karsten, '' some people have the powers of a lion.''


'' There're heavy demands on the forests for building castles,
Cathedrals, houses, ships, mills, and machinery, '' said Cruz.
''The fuel for glass and brewing industries is on hassles, ''
Said Pedro, '' this drill of the coal deposits has an excuse.


I've heard the steam engine has a low efficiency.''
Tia said, ''overland costs of transport are very high.
English iron industries still lose proficiency.''
Megan said, '' this revolution adds up to one big lie.''



''I've heard that in Selanik Jews control the commerce, ''
Said Marco.''Greeks, Turks, Armenians, and Jews! '' Said Athan.
''All can thrive economically in Selanik,
Whether they read the Bible, the Torah or the Quran.''


Tia wore a fine golden silk brocade jacket having
A metallic gold floral lattice design and shape,
A petticoat of ribbed silk embroidered with silk yarn forming
Loops; its front fastened with clasps, tightened in back with cotton tape.


Karsten's navy blue, collar, cuffs, and skirts were embroidered
With cream silk 'point Beauvais' garlands of pearls and flowers.
Athan's vest of silk moiré and coat were pumpkin colored.
'Twas embroidered with silver thread and silver sequins.

Tia and Athan were in need of loans for short terms
While intending to bridge the time gap between the pay
Of taxes and the take of sums from the owners of some firms.
They traveled to find wealthy Muslims that loaned money.

''People can't pay heavy taxes and accrue deficits.''
''They must pay these sums even their finances are low.''
''All these payments are done for the Empire's benefits.''
''In this condition, Selanik will be a place left to go.''

‘'To prevent people from leaving, the Empire minimized
Their losses enacting kaskamot that obligates them
To pay and to leave behind a guarantor.'' ''It's civilized! ''
''If women and orphans can't pay, the Muslims don't condemn.''

''There're allowances for persons donating or loaning sums
And for philanthropic acts like the payment for the abject poor.''
''They take from any owner or any visitor that comes,
From birth, from death and from sacrifice passing the temple's door.''

'Gabella is a tax levied on the purchase of basic test
Kosher foodstuffs like wine, meat, and cheese.''
''Rich men pay instead of the poor men to prevent the arrest.''
''There're taxes for the goods that are brought from over the seas.''

''Here, new public buildings are built in the eclectic style
To project the European face of the Empire.
''Our monasteries are centers of learning for a while.''
''The head of the Orthodox Christians is like a Vizier.''

(Tia, Athan, Megan, and Karsten disembarked at Selanik while Frederick and some sail men went to buy fuel.)

(To be continued...)

Poem by Marieta Maglas
jeffrey robin Apr 2014
??
()    ()
{         <•><•>       }
/_\
=

Pain doesn't harm a person

It is the identification of ones-self as VICTIM that harms a person

••

VICTIMS UNITED !
(This the name of all political parties )

--

Most of the seeming LOVE POEMS here are
just POLITICAL POEMS

Designed ( like all political speech )

To hide the initial source of the Violence

••

The claim that an expression of love accepted by a person
obligates the receiver to return love is a Lie

This -- plus the Lie that feelings of affection
(Mis-labeled Love)
are eternal
combine to undermine the very fabric of human relations
and render our youth infertile both emotionally
and intellectually

Why they are written and displayed is Unfathomable

They are subversive and hateful even if not intentionally so

••

When the Real Love comes
we act paralysed and confused

we have lost the sense of our own
ability to actually Love another

And cling to the enfeebling notion that we NEED
to BE LOVED

The ritualistic annihilation of each other is quite sickening
Ken Pepiton Nov 2019
Obliged enlightenment is a candle task,
or a sun task
and so on.

The light I act as if I see dawning into
Nova now,
may be
a super new now, and then, it's history
someone said
we
could have seen, had we been there.

War is not inevitable,
war demands hate, hate is weak.
In children,
hatred must be cultivated
now that the rich
bounty of spaceship earth's
biosphere recovery algorithm has kicked in.

Any kid knows it is a small world.
After all and
we all do live under one sky and taste one
sweet water drawn to the salt
given us from the earth.

Except for the lemmings,
Disneyfication has increased world
knowledge,
the locked down known stuff we all agree
can be known
samesame to us all. Like

We all breathe the same air.
We all know the greedy are not grateful to the slave.
Wait
Did not Jesus say…
Could be

we don't truly know, but we let be true
a story words have linked to knowable
knowns
since I knew to take the good and re
fuse the evil,

from eating butter and honey, as is common
these days when
the religation to truth obligates light to shine like
The OPN1LW gene obligates you to see blue,
and equate it with the frequency of light bouncing
around the world
from the water and air keeping us alive.

From <https://ghr.nlm.nih.gov/gene/OPN1LW>
I am guessing, take anything I write for the next while as me taking a test i never studied for.
woolgather Dec 2015
Oblivion awaits
Sadness obligates
"O, ****** soul, be vanquished!"
The Lacrimosa dictates.

No bouquet ever darker,
No flower ever, grieving;
"Not beauty" it begs to differ;
The Lacrimosa wanes.

He stands in the fields
He plucks the dying,
The clouds darken
His already pitch-black eyes.

"Lacrimosa," he asks:
"Why so weak?"
"I am but saddened," says he.
To see Lacrimosa, bowing on nothing.

"Leave me be!" Lacrimosa exclaims.
As she lies on the meadows.
"What fate dictates, what fate begets."
As the hopeless Lacrimosa whimpers softly.

"Then, to leave, I shall."
"Then, to sleep, you will."
"O Lacrimosa, I am saddened,"
To see Lacrimosa gone.

Forsaking forgets
Regretting begets
"Not beauty, but harsh truth."
Lacrimosa says her last words.
People don't really get to value what matters most.
my mother,
my my...              mother:
clearly by the tokens
i've collected:
i'm the superficial eulogist
scribble:
time and death and all
that's to pass: self-evidently...

but...

you catch me at 3am
drunken, high:
giddy from creating something
a something that's
symphony...
you corner me:
did i tell you about the Rainbow
Brigadiers of what's ***
unlike?

when i cry the tears become
rivers into my ears
now i have an ant
crawling on my ear
i once had a mosquito:
**** at my neck...
i'm not Christ: i'm just the prefix
of anti-,

the night is dark and
i feel like feeding a symbiosis...
this ant...
crawling around my ear and neck:
yes! i'm feeding it music:
just like the shirt-of-a-****
and ****
i have in my ****
a worm to **** out...
but at least i found the concept of
individualism of ants
and now she it he is sleeping
finding a cuddly spot of pillow of flesh
no spiderweb of architecture...
now when i enter
heaven i will heave a sigh of relief
rather than disappointment:
because i was allowed back in
into Heavean:
i left Hell in the guise of the superiority
of Beelzebub:
i have Matthew typing my thoughts down:
oh: you don't know Matthew?
that's like another lineage of a Jesus...

but why would mother seek me out
at 3am... yes: drinking, yes, smoking:
but not wasting my time:
i did something creatively...
worms in my eyes i can see quiet plain-of-fact...
until i get knocked out:
cobblestone antics?
but woman: even if mother:
she despises not being mentioned:
Tyrant mother:
why do you want to see me
in a state of fermentation of intellect?
atheist that you are...
and i rigid Catholic, like father:
and this new beast of ***
this pacifying the already pacified Pacific...
am i the Napoleon not
for St Helena
but instead Kauai?

ant and spider and worm...
i need to take a ****...
a **** in my **** is like the tongue
in my mouth:
i don't, terribly, need it...
insects have a concept of sleep:
like wow: we have the concept
of the sun with sunglasses...
i've spent a day in hell:
i was the spouse of Pride and the daughter
of Shame...
one day in bed imitating Martin:
i want to be off this carousel of...
i don't even know what i owe to know...
i don't even know what i owe to know!

but at 3am:
and i'm off my rockers and nuts
and she keeps tracking me
as this loser homeless issue:
no no: no issue:
Nero the Captain Comedian
and Emperor:
i'm figuring out where to stab myself...
in the neck...
in the abdomen
in the piercing of armor akin to Kafka...
past the lungs and into the heart...

to give birth to death...
that's what the masculine intention is \
auto-suggestive off of: and of:
i am required to give birth to death...

this **** in my **** like the tongue in
my mouth...
this **** in my **** like the tongue in
my mouth...

sexually harassed at a Taylor Swift concert...
this ******* propaganda:
politically correct:
i took it like a bear:
i was not a monkey back then...
sly on the slide: and the summer stone...
begot suntans...

but why see me at my most destructive-constructive:
don't you know YHWH aligned himself
with Odin...
two are: eyes...
because all this Gabriela topic of the angel
who spoke to Muhammad about
Allah... who never, or ever, spoke since...
but Gabriel only spoke to Mary,
the marrying type... or typo...

        why is Catholicism so alien to the American
mind: let alone intellect... hmm?
and why linger until 3am
to watch me play the dutiful ogre
listening while she displays her...
it's 3am and i'm in-between Flaubert and
Stendhal...

                  so now i will suppose
being a convert...
oh but maybe the Poles are the French of
the Slavs...
but then that leaves a widened opening
for the authority of the Russians...
and i know:
the Germans don't listen to the French
or the English...
vice versus: compliment to the rubric of:
the English don't listen to the French
or the Germans... etc.

i feel obligated to feel ashamed whenever
in Poland and Russia is a topic...
i am a king in pawns...
the queen obligates the bishops and the rooks...
the king is pawn...
the queen... it's all be clarified from
abstract to simplicity to abstract-simplification:
to known to man: phenomenology...

now to **** out that tongue
from my ***...               a welcome... experience.

— The End —