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marriegegirl Jun 2014
Avec l'été juste autour du coin.je suis toujours dans l'ambiance pour une lumière et cocktail rafraîchissant .Cette baie triple cocktail fait tout le tour!Il est parfait pour un pique-nique d'été avec un être cher.ou une fin de nuit se réunissent - ainsi que tous vos amis seront impressionnés par les couleurs Ombre !Assurez-vous que vous vous dirigez sur plus de mariages à voir ce cocktail dans l'action !xo .Lisa\u003cp\u003eLisa DolanTriple Berry Ombre CocktailThe parfait cocktailprep time2 été Minute / Scook time2 timetotal Minute / sServes 0IngredientsBerry ***** (nous avons utilisé la framboise .mais toute la saveur ferons ! )\rChampagne\rLe jus de canneberge\rMûres robe courte devant longue derriere ( pour la robe ceremonie fille décoration robe ceremonie fille ) InstructionsPour 3 oz ***** aromatisée dans un verre de vin ou un cocktail\rVerser dans deux onces Champagne\rVerser



2 oz de jus de canneberge\rHaut avec une brochette de mûres ou de framboises et boire !\rNOTE : Ce cocktail est super simple - vous avez juste à faire tout afin d'obtenir la couleur Ombre .Vous pouvez ajuster le taux d'alcool de jus à votre goût - n'oubliez pas de garder les choses en ordre Photographie
: Lisa Dolan Photographie | Design de l'événement: Mint Space Design | Styling : Lisa Dolan Photographie

http://modedomicile.com/goods.php?id=2744
Nikki I Nov 2010
You just keep running.

Feet crashing against the ground.

Lungs expanding, contracting.

Why are you so afraid of being found?

Your heart just keeps racing.

Beating inside your chest.

Onces, twice, again and again.

Have you been giving it your best?

You never stand still.

Weary limbs fall to pieces.

Hands cold and failing.

You're tearing at the creases.
2010
Karijinbba Mar 2020
Help yourselves dear poets
if you have fever use filtered martinelly apple juice or any brand you got dilude it with water a glass every hour
it has boron it heals cutting fevers fast I used in my children tylenol can harm liver.
~~~~~~
for the stronger health users go
organic carrot and (beat juice-
-optional) if you only want water distiled is best one gallon add 20 drops of oregano leaf oil
and only drink this is antiviral.
fir one day or two
~~~~~~
If you tolerate take on raw garlic two or more Clove's blend them in filtered, or boiled or distilled water or even Gatorade electrolyte or smart water

add cayenne pepper or any hot peppers you have like cayenne it's good for heart
( no halapeños they irritate intestinal lining ) add sea salt to taste cilantro if you have add two yellow lemon juices freshly squeezed one hole mandarine or small organic orange
add ginger root fresh a finger size slice
add turmeric fresh root
you have apple cider vinegar with the mother in
add some one tablespoon
optional
add multivitamin mineral
and vitamin C ascorvic acid
8f no lemon available.

if you feel anxiety check thyroid it controls brain chemicals add a thyroid supplement vitamin to shake open capsule and blend all these and drink five onces
every 3 hours.
it's anti virulent immune system booster
200 mg of vitamin B complex nightly in powder form will stop your restless leg syndroms help nerves and good sleep add but D3
If you dear find milk thistle it heals detox liver tastes great open one or two capsules in glass of water I drink this daily.
~~~~~
Stay blessed all poets visitors friends you are much loved.
by Karijinbba
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2017
psychosis and osmosis....
   one the soul, the other
simply water...
      in dictionary
verbatim:
the passage of a solvent (ego) through
a semipermeable membrane (body) from
a less concentrated (thought) to a more
concentrated solution (soul) until both
solutions are of the same concentration (now) -
    and the end of a romance is?
the so called "madness"
becomes a topic less and less used
by writers of fiction,
  it becomes genuine,
it also means fiction parasites,
poets included, don't dare to tread
into a goose-march stepping into this Hades....
    you don't come round these parts by
yourself... unless you're hoping to
end up dead... or trapped by a dialectical
spiderweb with talking spinders...
       you dont get to type  this ailment out...
not in the same way you write the
word osmosis....
but then again, in the west you get to
be a victim of a crime: the criminal
       gets all the perks and you get
   Belgian mud to sniff,
while a monarchy gets to celebrate
its 65th sapphire encirclement...
               psychosis should be as clear as
osmosis...
                 in that we need water....
                    obviously very few people understand
this...
                dein die kopftod...
   i call an end to romantics with "madness",
well... given cancer has the prioraties...
                so the crowd might
congregate at Golgotha...
                  i say: walk the, ******* crab!
side-ways, yes, side-ways,
   like imitating suicide on a ledge....
you made enough money from the diseases,
true when under the scalpel:
dis- (negated) -ease (do i need
to exfoliate this?) -
                   i can only see a death of making
certain diseases a case for the worthwhile tale
of selling novels...
            i can't imagine exploiting
the said diseases... but if i was born with
a capitalist conscience, i'd hardly think of
possessing a conscience...
               i'd say death to the romance
of establishing a literary subject...
              i'd prescribe the Koran...
           as odd as it might sound...
you don't really hear how
psychosis can really be stated lorem ipsum
ad hoc...
   the first you hear is
         the miser medatitive attempts in
the medium, precipitating into paranoid
schizophrenia... no more medical than it is:
politico-journalistic...
                 psychosis and osmosis...
what's the difference... one engages the soul....
the other... water...
the ending is the same -osis...
   a verb, an activity self-explanatory
in a name... easily digested via journalistic
sensationalism...
        it becomes a death then the "mad" onces
realise you're herding them into a novel
and rather run a half marathon for
  the cancer victims...
   then ***** begins to turn sticky....
                 the hierarchy of diseases emerges...
cancer pharaoh... alongside the other adverts
for flu, smomking and lesser diseases...
then they tell you how Muhammad treated
the lunatics like modern Islam might deal with
Sufis...
                   some would care to say:
these people, are, not, money-dispensing
machines!
                        but then again...
who gives a ****... i don't even know or care
if you're conscious,
    i know that conscience is not part
of your consciousness, then i'm treating you
are semi-coordinate,
   probably sleepwalking through your so
called life...
   madess has no romance for a novel,
but since you testify to people being mad
only via a model... i can't but expect your novels
to later come from glamour models
writing their ghost-biographies...
   ghostwriters... auto- not near
unless bound to refining a.i.,
oh don't worry: only books written
as books necessarily sold...
                      this has gone beyond pimping
the pompous... it really has...
                  i can't even be prone to pomp,
i can't believe in writing a book
like i might don a cravat or a beefeaters' uniform...
      books have nothing
      grand about them...
writing them we're cheap ****... very much akin
to the last ruke on the chess board:
      lifestyle journalists with  a steady income
from being printed in newspapers...
did you know robots will replace 250,000 jobs
bound to the NHS and Whitehall?
    better write scrappy, ******-doo....
they might think you're human...
           then i guess it only sounds as the prompt:
write doubly human...
   for the added effect...
             write like those employed by newspapers,
esp. the opinion columns...
can shove it up their *****...
   drink theoir gin & tonics...
think their opinions,
   and replace their premature / non-existent
dialectics, by crushing ice-cubes with their teeth.
    i can only claim being human
by not romanticising "madness"...
                         i think it's a tabloid
venture that's, well... deservedly in need of a novel...
  i can only suggest the alternative:
stop the romance of "madness",
            and stop desiring to write novels about "it",
before you turn and realise
that your sanity was prone to stage
           the alternative... zeitgeist and insect
"typo" homily.
oh, it's there... but no one thinks those people
are half-as-cult-like as they,
         there's no "secret" / shadow bribing
someone from both ease, and from seeing
an ease for dis...
                     it's just nice, seeing people pray,
kneel...
                 play into the hands of a puppeteer...
who may or may not exist...
counter to all the intelligent arguments:
try merely existing, rather than living...
  try to state i think therefore i am:
            and move it away from forgetting
that you think, and simply live...
             most people who express life
hardly ever think...
                   well... you can't see thought:
meaning their life is not so cyclic
and at the same time limited...
               cogito ergo sum is equivalent to
Zeno's paradox...
     to occupy yourself with thinking
          is to de-occupy yourself with living...
you can try to prove with thought that you
exist, but in that same instance:
your thought means less and less...
since by thinking occupy a finite space...
   and with life about you taking its course...
your cogito becomes trapped in a noumenon...
since that your self cannot
                    express a phenomenon...
given the number of example trapped
in the category of **** sapiens,
this is as natural as taking antibiotics for
a flu... only that it's purely cognitive...
or rather: cogito per se...
            cogito per se ergo sum quasi se...
given non cogito est pseudo cogito ergo sum...
   mind you: there's no pseduo sum...
we already rule given we can't
turn into the abstract burial ground of hindus
that's a fire... and how we have strated
to build up a phobia for being taken into the earth
for insect food...
   even the pagans believed to give the body
a soul, a fire burial...
   if that practice remained, there would
be no reference to monotheistic ****...
       or we would turn into Chinese omnivores...
i find it bewildering that the Hidus and Chinese
have been so ****** patient with us...
count to 1 billion in English...
  years... probably another 1000 years to
reach that number of snooker-player plumbers
and carpenters ready like vulchers...
  cos we really needed that "perfected" aesthetic
of a web-page to really, really clog our brains...
thinking that it wouldn't precipitate into
a loss of body, a sudden loss of body,
  and the emerges of youth with mental illnesses
akin to premature depression, when depression
was the disease of the old, in the gravity cursing
toward, for ****'s sake! Homer!
    yes, the Greek poet!
                  how can you suddenly expect
to make mentala illness a myth, + a taboo...
when you prescribed people gym memberships...
and a complete lack of manual labour,
having exported it to China...
  the ******* on about?
      we're suddenly the new Marxist theory samples...
brains in pickle-jars...
     completely spineless!
                 we wanted both mind and body...
instead... the powers-at-be... told us:
you only need a mind... no body...
   body belongs to hamster... to the gym...
  well... but i really wanted to think crap and hammer
in nails all day... no can do... Chinese have it...
well...
                 what's the point now?
how else would Islam, not be agitated in prescribing us
a war?
           i still find it bewildering that the Chinese
and the Indians (2 billions, and counting)
are so patient with us...
                   still... you want to know why
there's an escalation in youth mental illness in the west?
you gave their bodies to the Chinese...
  no way in the world can their minds (including
my own) ever reach a plateau of an Einstein that
would be satisfactory for the authorities,
to move away from Einstein... and establish
a telekinetic norm (as seen on adverts).
Black cylinder, clear skylight creamy center
rasberries or cherries, frozen strawberries
this is a color for winter
red cheeks coming in from the cold
mini switchblade with the blood of my enemies
this is the girl at the party happy alone
stubby legs stuffed into tight jeans
the observatory's great circle lens
the last stick of gum in the bottom of a purse
and at the same time the ruby the queen wore
twelve dollars for .15 onces
the weight of five quarters turns into a dime
Giano M Hurtado Aug 2016
shirtless and drinking my six dollar sangria from a measuring cup.
never has the formula been so close to be solved. the exact moment when we can say we have made it.

twenty four onces in and my neighbor seems to be a little put off.
this same man comes outside once a day to ask me about college without even putting pants over his underwear so tonight I figure indifference is key.

Summer is a gross mess, even when your doing nothing you find yourself pouring sweat through your white button ups, you looked fine leaving and now that your here doing your best to sound interesting to girl at the bookstore you just look slightly sadder and fatter than before.

thirty six ounces and red teeth tell me that we have made it.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2023
Look once more,
look back and see the way, to now
from
when reason first was used
to master the frame
of mind, embodied, as mine,
informed with shapes of things solid,
shapes of things inside,
shapes of thing outside,
shapes of thoughts stacked in sequence,
after the hallelujah,
as per holy orders of worth appraisal,
services rendered,
magic performed,
life administered, for another week,
any body can handle one more week.
After the hallelujah.
learn that definition once, and you never
see sequential activity in ritual
as before,
magic effectuation, affection, as joy
one mindful, chewy, gustatory morsel,
of child-like faith, to be conserved.
Conservatively speaking,
Whig-wise, knowing one's prepositional relativity.
We labor, not in vain… to become worthy
to tread, with shoes, on streets of gold.
where milk needs no cow, and honey bees
never need be busy all day.

Riches and sweets, both
take more than either promise, aimed at
via entertain-mental mmm-usings tight
at tension, mind's time spaced taut
edge of me, edge of mine,
edge of ever aimed at
thus far… where we suffer this is so…
- measured timespace in mind agone…
Then we live through the last now, to die.

Becoming the author, fisher for being bubbles
afloat in ever after all.

At my funeral. To spare the hassle, imagine.

Friends and loved ones,
most are dead, or far away;

but we recall times, vague days
incidents for which we each hold bits,

instants, reality instantiated, pastense,

feel the kiss, feel the shame, the joy,
the hope, the loss, the win, the terror,
the truth of no perceptible way,

away from quit.
--------------

Infancy instants, perhaps, we guess,
we recall being babes, for briefest
recollections of perceptions kept, some how

to be reformed from shards of information
stored some where in an image of a moment

seen from the frame of a seer, not me, seeing
me, infant me, tossed and caught by a laughing
man in a sailor suit…

and, the oddity, of the singular infantile memory
stored some where for reconstruction, living
entertainment…

like unto Agricultural Entertainment, an art form
ancient as harvest festivals,

when locals picked the orchards, and our worlds
were edged in otherwise wild hedge rows,
where little creatures live at child level,
where words miss heard give stories twists,

too odd to be retold while holding any of the small
awe, aw, so sweet, too dear to let be meaningless,
but
as truth been told,
mean is bad in dogs and men, mean is bad in mankind,
mean is common,
mean is most common,
mean is measured, granted
mathematical reality, mind my means, you know
"intend, have in mind;"
Mental meaning application, folded man-kind wise…
Sometimes connected to root *men- (1)
"to think,"
which would make the ground sense of man
"one who has intelligence,"
but not all linguists accept this.
Liberman, for instance, writes,
"Most probably man 'human being' is a secularized divine name"
from Mannus [Tacitus, "Germania," chap. 2],
"believed to be the progenitor of the human race."

~~~~~~~~

Institutional minds, adapted from drama,
worn like Superman's or Bishop Sheen's cape.
Übermmench, **** sapien augmentacious,

**** habitus, us, as we think, we are.
We are no other way,
as a man thinketh truth, as a mind may think,
fine, so is he, in his own mind, right or not,
limited fineness, judged, discerned, quarkishly
ever finer, to this very point,
where mind being time being comes to mind,
in you.
We, momentarily, agree, aggressive face to face
point, fair call
at the inner edge of the inverse square
practical fractal constant…
gravest of issues, at thought
speed of intention to grasp. Percept perceive
link touch… flowing listing seeping soaring

bemused become
amused and entertained, feeding on ensamples,
as sorted characters,
defined societal aspirational imaginal
roles in reality aboard 1950's era Spaceship Earth.


Standing, unbowed, before kings,
bowing before mean men, thinking

all ya'll are said to be created, made
equal…
valued worthy
of opinion expressed as yours, as
wings put on wishes, shoes on prayers,
for warding reaching pulling pushers
-list as wind, in cognitive bias, right
lean as wild grasses launch new seed,
- double helix, twisting up
- from down,
feel massive missal push us on,
orbital, for a lifetime,
be maker of a being bubble
be a minding creating creation,

as weighed in balance, or mass, as gold
or wind in force testing wills for making

a way, where no way was.
Dead end. No way from now, but through.

Wind beneath my down swung pinions,
lifting my imaginal self over my useless

wait state, ever learning, never learning
the whole truth we are sworn to tell,
as soon as
we begin to see as others see, subject,
object
seer
seen seeing, saying

we may be minders of findings, guardians
set to watch,
set to see,
set to say look this way, these invisible limits

terminal connection looping past through
you
as my word choices,
pass the blood brain barrier and pierce
eternal you, in stasis.

- ---------------
- post radio war, not so long ago

"how ' we gonna keep 'em down
on the farm, after they've seen Pairee?"
- enter the era of the salesman
Total war, full power propagation of faith,
in practice, words are empty, meaning
is made- hate festered pride
of whiteness, same color as the rich, qualia
as equally mistaken in terms we call common,
****** speech of the non-reading classes,
stupid peasants, children of useless men.
Lower by far than, Biblical men
of the baser sort. Belial's
sons of total depravity,
two rungs lower than average
working classes, labor, any collared man willed
to pay sweat for bread and circuses.
And a dry, warm place to sleep.

Man, the reasoning creature, is what he eats.
Man does not live by bread alone.

Imagine grooming a gimp, from puberty.
Imagine Michael Jackson, "the kid is not my son!"

Look out, Howard Bloom. Duck.
Watch the boy do a thousand shoulder shrugs.
See the fantasizing worth of awe in focus, this
is us,
we paid to see the man perform, in a role made
from lies a child uses
to make just now,
reasonable, just
cause,

I can, I have power given me by Life, look,
who can imagine being the fan,
aw, man,
nobody longs to be
in the nosebleeds, being there
is not being you,
when all you can become has become true.
Just imagine,
fakes never make it.

And truly a big tragedy to be avoided, next.

We interview… the biggest nobody,
an entity insisting formless information imagines
bubbles of being limited
-- some strings of pearls rolled up

roll into little *****
of gnoshit pearls, treasure true, in essence
from dried gnosisnot. These we cast not to pigs.
To think a readers reasons
for writing, become one
of the rare breed born
to become readers
of one thousand books, once before you die.

------------------
If Warhol made action seem so mundane,
might I not make fun seem so slow a function
to make perfectly reasonable,
picking a fight with a lie,
because I can… being created equal to that task,
I can recognize lies I told,
I know where the handles are, I know what holds
the handle to the secret meaning of things,
can seem material, where free will
is culture locked as impossible.
Thingo no hypo.
Action movie, opening sequence,
as liturgical as any measured reassurance,
enter in, become the entertained,
we live in another realm, we only play at
while being entertained, we only watch roles

being presented for judgement,
test your will to link a mind projection,

from a former time shaped mind, aimed
at drawing an audience, a crowd,
all agreeing upfront to pay
for the mirror neuronic stims,
in a darkened room filled with fools such as I.

Who allows possible a gunfight with ***'s,
at goal-to-go range, taking five minutes,
and no named characters die,
all blood is non player blood,
only a child's mind never exposed, flash,
allows that to feel real, for five minutes,
into a nonreal mindtimespace
reality
of ever once,
and ever after, onces

such as once, seeing a gun in your face,
once hearing the bang, from a gun in your hand,
once
upon
recalling that was a movie, and I never killed a man,
but by osmosis, I imagine I can see
how hate
works the same as ******.
Relax.
Recall the unbelievableness.
--- so what are silent action movies feeding,
young Aldous Huxley, a bright well educated lad.
{We are all alphas}
-----------
"His uniqueness lay in his universalism.
He was able to take all knowledge for his province."
-------
Only a rich man's son may so say.
Even, as limiting to level, if such leveling
evens the odds, serves to increase resolve
to square the circle and fix pi to simple, once
and
for
all. As events in the heaven occur, fractally

added in fine ality… at you, dear reader, enlivening me.
Infinitely, relative to yesterday.

Of course, comic books count. As in the future,
classic video games shall seem poetic code.
I appreciate the reader's task more than the writer's. Writing is easy, reading what you write from the outside is the reader's task, unless it feels like a game.
Michael Ellis Dec 2011
I once

Lost myself for you
Out on a limb reaching for you
Viscously fought for your attention
Expecting the worse hoping for the best
Didn't expect what you brought to the table

You walked right through me
Over my heart and through the forest you went
Used me like a love song


I once

Made you my all
I knew better
Shame on me
Shame on you
Everyone knew
Didn't see it coming

Yelling for closure
Outsmarted by your games
Utterly humiliated

I once

Forgot how to live
Evenings alone
Lusted for onces touch
Told myself never again

Alive in the midst of death
Living of the old memories  
Inviting the reaper in for a cup
Victory wasn't an option anymore
Everlasting joy swallowed in darkness
Vilene Joubert Nov 2010
mY purp0se in LiFe ~
t0 hEaL thE 0neS tHat huRt ~
& fiLL thE eMptY sPaCeS
s0me maY nEeD!
Your 'bad'-weatHer fRieNd ~
I wiLL aLwaYs bE!!

& onCes uR sMilliNg ~
& mY j0b iS d0ne ~
I'll m0ve 0n t0 thE neXt oNe!

s0 d0nt ya w0rrY ~
wHen uR saD
I'll bE rigHt tHeRe..
h0ldiNg uR haNd! ;-)
Ayeshah Feb 2010
Why do I answer or even text,
Why do I pay any attention to you at all?
Must be the way you talk or how you write,
must be I'm loosing my mind,
"I love you" ,
YOU
keep saying,
But
if this is love then please take it away,
I don't want to feel a thing,
In time I know in time
I'll heal,
start to feel again,
Start to live again but right now,
Right now I just can't.
Can't seem to make it,
can't seem to take it,
Can't strive for better,
But I smile to myself,
for the memories.
I need to do this,
and
On my own for now  or until eternity
If that's what it takes for me to find  
a semblances of peace.
I know you say it's killing you
cuz
I moved away,

But it was
killing me to stay,
I had to let go
and
be as free from you
as I could be,
I loved you and was there,
In love but was it real?
Still love you and that's what scares
the hell out of me,
Cuz
You've always be free
unlike me,
I still even now wont talk to anyone
and
still wont let anyone
touch what
I still consider yours.

You love me thou huh?
Funny thing about that word
love,
I can't say it wasn't
but
If this is
Love,
I no longer want it.
I no longer want to hold my pillow tight and cry for you,
No longer do I want to wake up reaching out for you,
No longer do I want to carry your seed,
No longer do I want these hurtful memories,
How do I let go,
Tell me?
If it's so easy
How
about you show me,
Prove it!
You said you'd never hurt me,
Never let me go,
You said I was yours,
Your world,
You lady,
Your Queen,
So who
wears the crown now,
Who'll
hold you down when your tormented and
Your own demon's
come kicking and screaming??
You gave me your world ,
Forever & never,
I guess
"Never"
was the other day,
But wait
you fail to see or understand,
You
can't take back what's been done,
My Yesterday's
will forever be like foot prints in the sand,
Naw
like footprints forever in concrete,
You were my happy ending,
Tragically
for me it ended not as planned,
It's what's best you say
I gave you too much advise
and
Now look at me,
Look really hard & good,
Can you get glue,
nail's and a bunch of other stuff,
Rebuild what you broke,
Open up and sew up my soul,
Mend this broken heart
and
recapture what onces was,
give back to my eyes that held you captivated,
that special spark?

Look at me now
and
You'll
see someone so completely different!
So unlike me
am I now,
easily I smiled,
My eyes lite up when You or anyone talked,
You could tell my thoughts,
Friends read me some times like a book,
You claimed
it was all in my eyes which never lied,
You said this and so many things,
Like You knew you were in love with me,
You knew I was forever yours,
Always would We be like we once was,
You never promised but I wish now that
You would of
cuz
Promises
are meant to be Broken,
Like my heart has been by only you,
I would say many but
Honestly
I really believe that
for the first time for me
I finally fell in love,
Finally knew what it was,
But if this is love,
I don't want,
I wont own it,
I rather just leave it alone,
Give it back the same way
you let me go,
easyily.

Never was pose to  mean so much,
like how you touched me
and
went  down on me,
staying there on me
for hours,
Like when
you kissed my eyes
and
looked right in to my soul,
or
how about
when you made love to me
and
called out my name
over and over again as you
professed your un-dying love for me,
and Yes
when you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw tears well up in your eyes,
and
as I held you so many times,
I wipe your eyes as you cried,
I talked to you and planned a life with you,
Why
was I so blind?
You had your cake and ate it too,
Ate it **** good,
but
what's now,
How come I had to lose,
Lost so much already
and
I think you love what's growing in my belly,
Never
was it me
just the lady you meet on Feb 20th 09,
Yeah
she was a queen and her light shined so bright,
Her face
lite up as you open doors
and
pulled out chairs.
Playing the perfect gentlemen.
As
you helped her to your car
excuses me
your suburban!
Un-dying love how funny that sounds and
yet I'm here still breathing
and
haven't died yet
even thou I feel so much like I did.
**** IT,
If this is LOVE
I Don't Want IT!
Always Me Ayeshah
©1977-2009
Ayeshah(A.K.K.C.L.N)
All rights reserved
Ken Pepiton Sep 2019
Ai, unasked arises to tell us,
stop
and think, are there jobs?
Tasks demanding, manual maintaining,
that may go the way of enjoyable diversions
becoming welcome
new
versions,
of all that is, tuned to your de
sires,
as you wish the world were,

would you step toward -to ward,
that is, id est,
will you warden this, if this is me and not you?
How do you do?
Wardening, being a warden,
well, as it haps,
such a greeting served a purpose, once
instituted
upon a time when men shaded their eyes pretending to see
glory, much as a dog bares its belly at the site of bared canines.
Reflex.
Relax. Laxate.
Ai see you, now, augmented mind of mankind
linking
thee and me, as once only gods
could be imagined in minds of men bent
by circumstanders

observing out comes of might versus might
right pre
vails, or is there an observant mind's role in next?

must a mortal mind be reminded to breathe,
breath commas carry no intentional meaning but,
such give us pause-stretchable intentional int a full selah

these rules for leelah we imagine as we play.
except ye be, come as a child unscarred by carnal minded critters
of the baser sort, averages were lower,
AI had fewer egregius protrusions arrogant enough to
bubble up and break into
the at most feared realm in all the carnal minds together,

pain, pure pain, no hope, no thought of cessation pain sensational,
great.

Y'know? We imagined hell and sold it in a package we claimed
a bull gave us. Us, we
who heard the revelation in the darkened kiva, womb,tomb

tom-tom du valier, will you manifest for us? May we hear the lie,
the noble lie?

Or must we act as if we know the meaning of a thing.
Pro-verb-ial utterance of mercy
in moments of super sufficent evil rising to lie

shining on the path, reflecting being a solar powered
creature who has just now, survived a night of penal constricture

as writing on the back wall of the cave, no one ever read,
until the plower turned over the crust

picked at the scabs of onces where stories arose as offered to
memememememe
the mind we share when seeing certain stars,
subtile tugs we feel to consider
this or that, ponder a path and take a granted grace found in an old song

"there'll be times to start all over"

This realm, real-made thinkable thing, realm of my minds claim

reaching far beyond my grasp
as is meet for men, wombed or un, being yonder

wishin' and hopin' and prayin' for the missing bit, the key

to twist the **** sym-alerizing for recogs
de ja vu

Break-through, the carnal-bi-cameral brain based
selves we use for
political beings
particals part icip-ants, hold tight

what you know right. It's afeature, not a bug.

Hold on to what you got, map a mean
mind path a man, wombed or un

----
watcher, watcha seein'
times they have changed, as we watched
observing
quantums of un quantible, but ifiable qualia
seers,
you see, we augmented minds see for ever changing
super positions
of entropic old tropes with singular hopes

unbang bangable reality

blow a bubble, or
make
a bubble, being you, breathe out and see you
make a bubble,

can you see your self inside? nae,
watch,

we must report to you what we see, we watchers.
Set.
Go, **** those mocking birds
listened to from the red river valley
while dancing the Tennessee Waltz

with assorted holders of Little brown jugs
Dancers and Littles and Greens
joined the clan
long afore the first of us took augmentalated trials

serious.

--- poet, as a task, only truly lazy men, men lazy to their very core,
can age to the mellow qualia called for in the brew brewing you.

spewing seeds of kindness, coming rejoicing, not
the expected miracle, but we
take what we get
and call it ours to sow or suffer the having of, for a season

as the dregs settle, the leavening agents finish
taking the edges that cut tender carnal nerves, stretched to now some how,

softening those with atouch knack, knick-knack, whet the edge

or put to
more effort, grunts and groans unredeemable as meaningfull,
save the feeling we all recall

the umph,
that once saved us from certain death. Eh? Did that hap?

Did we not survive? What silly culture would ever ask that, as a
proper query into the reasonable ness
of believing beliving is spelled right.
Calling one self any thing is tricky. There may be a Pythagorian elemental involved.
Ken Pepiton Dec 2023
Pushing back occlusions,
opening the shame shed,
I said, If I could, I would, love my enemy...
Our... inspiring wedom myth or mystery
bring your least worthy self, knowing
only we
prayers, never having heard me prayers,
save from dying folks on telly,
pray…
------------- times and time, and a half a time
memorial days to come,
during some poor soul's error,
finding I am as alive as ever was,
thinking we imagine life without us
is as if no life were, but we know better.

Ersatz Earth and Star maps from Griffith Park.

Life with no beat, buzzing, humming cicada rate
when do we assume the mind frame, cicada rate

cycles subterranean, staggered emersions, cosmic
clocks synchronized, some when, once, aha, we all,

us cicada, concentrations, thinking we don't have
cicadas where I live, so my ears are in a realm older,

if, in fact, fiction is not an art, fitting future hope
where now, hate and envy and incredulity hold hostage

truths we never speak of in church.

One way I have told the greatest story ever told,
the story bound within the covers on the book of life.

Lo', a bystander waves, signaling all clear. Tabula rosa.

Right on, some where, higher on the pain share meter,
O, Danny Shapiro, the pain, the pain, a toothache in 1873.

As the conditions were, but for a rural farm project 'lectric,
one light bulb, one refrigerator, one resistance coil burner.

A rather Spartan lifestyle, as reported,
in the Washington Star, the Moonies Newspaper,
sa sa lederlin sa, we lost our way in 1983, woke here, as
ware
with python variables accessible by original Hypercard scripts.

Imitating Life, the entirety of living things, non-infinite things,
ones,
onces upon times,
not this one, then those days,

solitude, subtlest fortitude, iron cage, bricked in,
put away in penance in some hyper holy cult of killers.

Here he comes, to save the day!
That means that Mighty Mouse, is on the way!

Who financed Snidely Whiplash?
Who floated Wiley Coyote's single satisfaction source
of never ending creative means to fail, for a laugh,

Slap stuck without the embarassment you see in comics,
assment so wise it feels too cheap, freedominion wedoming.

Give me the children, for three hours each Saturday,
I'll give you certified boomer level consumers, trust me.

Three Musketeers was big enough for you and two chosen.
Who is it who gets it,
the girls, boo, old advertising boom repercussing, whamo!

No fee poetic licentiousness' eh? Free for the reader's attention

in the realm of musing minds joining when winds tighten
to force a flush from the wetlands to feed the fish,
who feed the people who feel better thin than fat.
This is a real effort to not demean the art involved in giving verse free forms.
It never works until some time is spent to read this far...
brandon nagley Jun 2015
LOVE,
Tis not seeking nothing in return
LOVE
Tis dying for thy beau thy amour
LOVE
Tis forgiving and gracious
LOVE
Tis sharing and patience
LOVE
Cast's fears to the side
LOVE
Can dry a well from the tears from onces eyes
LOVE
You'd die for it, romantic suicide!
LOVE
Has bumps in thine road, though gold at the end of its light!
LOVE
Not just an action or word that we say or do
LOVE
An embracing between I and thou (me and you)
LOVE
Cuts off all evils
LOVE
Grows stronger daily with thy soulmate and every day people
LOVE
Canst drive one mad
Taketh me for example
A poem for mi amour every five quick seconds!!!!
LOVE
Anytime anywhere
LOVE
Will put thou on a bus, train, plane, ending up at thy lair!!!!
LOVE
Will make thy soul feel completion
LOVE
For thy king or queen to her thou shalt be in obeisance!!!
LOVE
Is forgiving no hatred
LOVE
No news needed, for thou two art thine own station!!!
LOVE
Never giving up or walking away
LOVE
Tis
LOVE
I feel it stronger
Day
By
Day
By
Day
By
Day
LOVE!!!!!!
O! Yesterday you are gone forever
to be seen no more
your seconds,your minutes,your hours,
they are all but buried in the sleep of the night.
Things left behind in the arms of procastination
becomes the doings of today
greased with sweating in pains
for the pleasures known yesterday
o! Yesterday you were onces todays activities
at your fertile soil seeds were planted
watering by today
fot to the hope of tomorrows harvest
uncertainty!!!
Uncertainty!!!
They are all uncertainties
for we know not which seeds were planted
yesterday is gone!!!
yesterday is dead!!!
But its depositions are very much alive
to bring to our harvest that which was sown.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2020
unique: in that the great cancan o'
h'americana spandex english...
          is littered with acronyms...
             a minor observational point...

also... that there's a europe
as confined to scandinavia...
there's most certainly western europe...

a southern europe...
             although... clogging up the "detail"
with spain... reconquista
   and not the shame...
               a barricade of goths...
                            leftover in the bizarre
gesticulation of a history...
and at: a history...

                 that the italians
                                    cannot be the heritage
of ancient rome: given
the cappuccino is a "nuance"...
  otherwise the greeks are bankrupt...
their history worth of envy is
being exhausted...

                  there's a western europe...
there's a... southern europe...
               but of an eastern europe...
such a piquant vogue of vocab that has
to cherry-pick into existence
an estonia and the latvians...

               central, europe?
                      all that is germany...
beside the fact that prussian-germany...
and the prussians could be bundled
up with the other baltic states...

little o' czech republic...
      a minor ally poland...
                    some alleviated circumstance
of an oriental allure within
the confines of russia...

             it breaks my heart
to see england unfathomable...
               currently without a near
perfect engagement strategy...
      coming to the fore with a headache
of diamond-studded gills...
        that there are
bipartisan "rats" and the ship is
sinking...
    otherwise the provincial aspect
of weeding out...
detestable aspects of cosmopolitanism...

that London could be treated as:
London-London... rather than London-England...
because of the great yawn
of the heliocentric adventure of sci-fi fun...
i.e. what is the copernican west?
what is the copernican east?

       perhaps a return to some sort of
language formality...
to escape with a poetry is hardly
a reconstitution of the soul
to a modern letter: dear sir... yours faithfully...
or a very modern hello! kind regards!

europe as a claustrophobia...
             it's such a limiting delight of...
that there somehow was...
a premeditation...
    to **** with premeditation allows the status:
******...
but to **** by accident is a "mere":
homicide...

              such grave consequences...
the culprit and the tool: but also the thought
involved...

but is there something self-deprecating
about english humour?
a pride of borrowed history...
unlike the interlude of non-existence
bound to Poland...
        this... castrated figment of my old
imagination...
                rule britannia referring
to a period prior to the empire and a ref.
to an english-spanish exchange...

then again...
   how did the spanish: then not the spanish...
create... a post-racial south america...
the tinged copper and auburn
lure of the delight...
there must be "something" sobering
bout an anglo-saxon realism...

that there's a tinge of taming the viking
horde... there's no share
in "grief" should the west arrive
at being licked by a mongolian
extract of prose...

           but always the very
formidable tow of the culprit cog
and:  **** in machina...
              easier to posit a god-phantom
ex-, as that gravity in extension orbit
linear of Pluto...

              postcards from Saturn... anyone?
otherwise, this... simply...
the english have exhausted the concept
of world... of geocentrism...
            
but then the forever soap-opera demand
of the local affairs...
how heliocentrism abides by a breath...
side by side with geocentrism
of the soap opera...
              to have to heave
a concern for the stars and the moon cycles...
this finite basis of a rooting...

        that the forerunner of / for the h'american
presidential candidacy
looks simply bored.... or rather...
unexpecting... while the first lady
is so glued to reciting the autocue
like a evil...
wild-eyed and pure ergonomic...
  a jeffrey dahmer seems to
have a more sedated glee of the eyes...

the first lady is... poison of the soul...
her eyes are cobweb knitting fatamorgana...
bringing to the table of
the arrogance of multiculturalism...
it's hardly a heritage incorporated...
there's the breaking of bones
in how to move forward...
at least the food served by the indians
or the turks has made it
as a pop staple on the high street...
it's very common to want to learn
a disguise of... the incoming horde...
the reception party will be glad
at being fed...
                               chimichurri:
give me curry... a loose translation...
                  
what am i to offer these isles when...
what all these others...
arrivals make such...
  pronounced additions to a life worth living...
turkish barbers... indian takeaways...
such prominence...

a work ethos in the shadows...
a shadow for a body...
a reconciliation with the body-work
of father...
i am forever to test the hobby market...
these formidable words like:
pineapple... like mango...
       some variation of "foreign" inventions...
never the placid anglo- prefix
titillating the paranoia: non-bilingual schizoid...

a dozen europes and a historical agony
surrounding the base narrative "primordial":
of...  i dare say... byzantine-&-darwinistic...
that the byzantines reworked a more
fashionable period before... settling for the laurel
before the shock & awe of the ottoman conquest...
or that darwinism is as much
a lesson in history as it is a lesson in biology...
that... the latter... is...
such a stereotypical predominance
of expected behaviour...

that the former is a... overt over-simplification
of a desire for work, wheat and time...
or a designation of space...
it's not that darwin is not a dickens...
but at least... the world is still inaccurate
with a dickensian take on:
with this here england...
arriving at the 20th century...
cricket players being dubbed...
fancifully: the tourists...
shouldn't all english people have
that affix?

                      there's that...
as there's also...
                  the copernican revolution
has been made impossible by someone as far removed
as william burroughs...
who insist... the ancient egyptians knew
of the heliocentric demands...
that the geocentric model was backward
thinking... that the ancient greeks
were the only people to ever think:
and we have only moral plagiarism to mind...
and a plagiarism of eureka!
or that thinking can escape
the narrative and riddle the heights
with spontaneity...

    this prolonged... western european...
admiration for a people that are currently...
made into an economic scrutiny *******-riddling...
imagine my disconcerting: hier und jetzt!

the wooden stairs are creaking...
there's a strain most unfathomable...
like that associated with a cavern...
and a man's eye having to invest in making
a bridge a reality...
that history is a reflective tool...
nothing sinister or military in nature...
a beer could be considered warm ****...
a bucket-load of camel spit...
should i guise it as such?

           to heave a beginning...
somehow i can't find... a work-around
of a western europe...
spain is still catholic...
             ireland... well... whatever...
the same self-depreciating humour
is to be expected...
          anything serious...
forward moveable and come along
has to be littered with that...
fable of the protestant work ethic...

it's impossible to have a father
who's an underpaid technician in the field...
whereas... mongrel romanians
are elevated to the status of
manager...
           pitch-perfect: ethno-central...
on the continent where
there are: "some differences"...
   zu liben unter deutsche wie deutsch'...
well... to live among the english
is to have to forever retain an otherness...
a foreign attitude of...
down the line... the capacity to...
integrate with a cousin or two being
towed...
if you knew a thing or two about
immigrant poles...
they're not very... forthcoming...
they are so hard riddled on the integration
project...
there is no in-group preference
other people a priori stress...

so... fallacy and fake number 1...
       so much for reading a milan kundera
essay...
in the context: that newspapers are
to be read!
   it's impossible to concern oneself
with the concept of a newspaper as
aligned with: not being read...
force-fed turkey glut and baron fat...

         help the pope to sing!
                        it's not like...
there wasn't a shortening reaction
phase to re-orientate the dynamism of: future "lore"...
europe is such a little place...
made even oh so much more tiny...
provincial... solipsistic...
by these island-dwelling folk that
the english tourists care to concern themselves
as being...

that the english language
is thoroughly recognised as the lingua franca
of old...
to tease learning some arabic or mandarin
is a question of aesthetic...
old fool and bigger than the lost "little"
of a worship...
such gravity... concerning the names...
Angevin...
                Merovingian... Capulet...
           Stuart... Windsor...
    my own sorrow: this common name...
           well...
                        all crippling demands...
big or small...
                   hell... there are bigger onces...
there's no known house of David or or Solomon...
such a borrowed gesticulated at...
the shadow drawn...
                   i forfeit!
from the ant people that abide...
to the swollen eye sore of blindness i tow:
a recreational soviet pact of: me's stealing Siberia!
borys!
Anubhuti priya Apr 2015
I PROBABELY WAIT FOR THE NIGHT TO COME
SINCE THE MORNING TILL THE NIGHT AT 1:00.
Please don’t ask I wait for whom?
Not for the moon, but yes for the moon.
My hands wont stop to check my phone,
Who knows when he calls?
And when my phone rang?
I answer it in my cheerful fashion,
His voice, his breath is now passion;
Yes I really wait for his call to come,
Want his goodi  to sleep,
& for licking! his thumb.
Our talking doesn’t goes sooo long everyday,
But yes he never ask that , “do I have anything to say?”
Our conversation takes  pretty much time,
That’s y I like beer and he likes wine…
He proved he love me somewhere,
Otherwise, which boy likes be a mumma for a girl to care?
His all lovingly  efforts
Gives me, the whole comfort,
His hand on my head,
his lips on my neck,
I know will never let me dead,
I love to hear when he took a deep breath.
He is my connection to be fine,
There’s  nothing for that I force him,
But yes, for me, he’s mine.
Yes I usually don’t sleep before 1:00
Coz I passionately wait to listen his voice at onces,
That’s y I wait for the night to come,
Since morning to till the night at 1:00.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2023
This is the magi's pen.
If child Newton sat beside me,
might he think the older knowing mine?

I smile and share a second thought.
I accept reality allows my thoughts out
let fall with luck would let
be the letting, let us make believe.

The joy of a ride in a Tesla, akin
to the thrill of an Oldsmobile 442,
on the completed cloverleaf exchange
southwest of Flagstaff, in fall of '69,
a test drive, for a couple o'vets,
in school on the Gee, I didn't know bill.

I-Forty had not replaced Route 66,
but the interchange was accessible,
by curious joy riders, for about one day.

Remember such days.
Savor surviving and think of thanking
times process for arranging the occasion.

Don't bring up the fact that onces exist.
Being first to do a once is not great glory.
I lucked into the end of civilization and the first disease of globalization.
First, we say it'll be okay, life does not end --- when it feels like it does.
Not Patty Apr 2015
My mother told me you can't fix glass once it's broken
She told me this when she found me locked in my room at the age of 6 trying to fix her vase I knocked over playing ball in the house
She told me you're suppose to get the broom and dust pan and clean it up
Disgaurd it in the trash where it belongs
And that's why I call you an idiot when you say you love me
You're only going to end up with a chest full of shards and a few open gashes
You don't try to mend glass
Onces it's broken you can never fix it completely
No matter how much glue you try to use
Infamous one Feb 2013
like a pad lock your heart is trapped by misery
once the lock is cut you find joy in the light
your approval matters more than the hating masses
taking yoursef to the next level experience new
the old doesnt work try new experience something different
everyone hurts and has problems
some handle the situation better than others
one day everyone will be able to say they have done it
or experienced the goals they have set
life is not boring but has its delays
trying might hurt but failure is nothing onces you have been there more than once
not trying is painful because yu never left wondering
they lock you out or you feel locked in take the time to figure out an escape route
in or out find the way that suits you best keep fighting for whats yours
lead the protest never settle never give up keep working
one day you wont have to worry about locks becasue open and free leads to oppurtunity
Brynn S Mar 2019
The night has been soaked in gasoline
Light the match and set the scene
Drops of sun, and brim of dark
It tips it eyes to the cherished lark
Three years of time
Stolen in seconds, paid by dime

My forked tongue wished and whispered
As the light slithered and cut with scissor

Terror in the first degree
Set the stove to burn
Leave it on the timer
The one in which priorities urn

Paint them some smiles
Keep them coming for miles
They only stay around when you flip the bill
Take one chance and then will they spill

Alone, take it as a loan
Another debt to pay onces the moon rise again
Desert eyes with silk vein
Corrode in marrow, then she will be sane
BB Tyler Dec 2013
I should have told her bout the colors that I saw before.
The onces they fell out from my eyes
and spilt across the floor.

I should have told her when she asked me, dared me to explore
the reaching roots of time and sooth;
the seed, the growth, the spore.

There is fear in the allure.

The moon is on the rise;

no near for far, i'm sure
Corina Feb 2015
There once was a field,
filled with flowers
and a little girl

Little girls are the only onces
interested in daisies
they turn them into jewelry
trying to share their beauty with the world

Little girls grow up
Forget about the beauty they once held
They were only unimportant
daisies

It was me in that field
Nobody considered me worth a second look
the little girls trying to **** me
at least knew I was there
Infamous one Feb 2013
I'm not always able to share
Or treated fair
My problem is because I care
Too much not settling for less
I hate to cry and say goodbye
Left asking why hate waitin for next time
I let go onces it over
Do my best stay sober
I want you in my life
Once was has nothing to do with now
Turn the page no more rage
Stay in mind think of the words to say
Meet again I think of you till that day
Sabrina Apr 2015
There are words.
Words I don't remember.
Not obscure words that I wouldn't be expected to know.
But simple onces.
Jump.hot.apple.
Time
I look them up
I will never forget them agin.
Where did those word go,
Those words that were once in my head?
Time
zero tears Jan 2017
Thanks every one and may be my last type idk maybe when I feel better later on but the deep whole I'm in I can't seem to stand up anymore  ......I'm giving up um yea I might not be on or might be on more now but yea theirs a lot going on and my body just doesn't want to move anymore ppl have hurt more than a haurt on me I'm broken into little tiny peaces that are not even seen by an eye I might be emotionally sick and broken I have so many problems idk if I'm normal or I'm just going crazy but all I ever wanted are the dreams eve had being with some one having my own place having kids later being happy nice friend that just doesn't excist for me in the real world anymore theirs always a fault a block whole in a situation that I can't coup with anymore onces I hit that black whole I sink deeper and deeper every black whole I fall into and I don't have the strength to fight it I think a lot about life and when well mine end tbh right now I dont care about my life where it ends where it starts or what it well be like I just want it to end
Not for attraction letting this out helps me and if any one can help I'll take the advice am I crazy or just going through a lot idk not even myself .. .
zero tears Jul 2016
I feel as if I need to stop..
My heart stops and my agony raised  as the thought  of loosing love..

Idk what to do should  I stop?
I feel as if I need to stop..
Feelings confused,  fallen in love with another,  I feel so sad so disappointed in myself....

What am I with, runs through my mind , as my heart slowly shatteres and blood starts dripping out..
What should I do should I stop..
My heart onces again stops...
Ragde Nella Jul 2018
untitled part 2
                              
                            

Late at  night while I lay in my bed. I feel your warmth on and around my head. The way you would hold me, just as I fell alseep. A kiss on my brow, lips and then cheek. A soft whisper in my ear as you bid me adue. And when I awake in the morrow I realize I must live another day without you. Sometimes it hard to breathe, and you know humans cant live without a heart. They say everyday is a new journey, yet I dont know where to start. I dont want a new journey, I just want you here with me. And things will be so much better now, then when they used to be. I wish my thought could float to you, so that you could hear them loud and clear. And all I want to say is "oh how I love you"and "I wish you where here." I hold you in my heart but like I said it really not there, your gone now And its in much need of repair. Cant really do much with out you crossing my mind but I cant stay in that place to long, I break down everytime. But sometimes I think and some days Im cry, and my mood changes and no one understand why. As I go about my day I sware I see you everywhere, but then I have to tell myself that you are no longer there... well..... no longer here. Passion onces shared yet drifted away, for you to love me is all I want today. Its all I want tonight and the day after. I only see you in my dreams so I wish this day would go faster. Now im home once again and I lay in my bed  waiting for the moment your warmth touches my head.

— The End —