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PJ Poesy Nov 2015
She's so casual squishy,
that Velda Tautginas. Lithuanians
have the strangest names
but **** can they cook. Fine
figured woman too. That Marius
is sure a lucky man. I don't know
how he keeps the pounds off.
If someone was cooking me
kugel like that, I'd be fat as a
manatee. Gettin' close though.

Shoulda never moved to Florida.
It's so **** sticky, I can't bear
to leave the air conditioning. Still,
Id've never met the Tautginas
had I not moved to St. Pete's. Guess
I oughta get a treadmill or
one of them there Beachbody
workout videos. Hell Marius tells me
Velda's sister is recently widowed
and is moving here from Newark.
Bet she knows how to make,
kugel like that.
As they say, " life is stranger than fiction." In this case, fiction wins.
Jane dale Apr 2014
Cats make me laugh, the selfish gits,
They prowl through life, not taking ****,
We humans are just staff, to them,
Our independent feline friends,
Standoffish, surly and downright rude,
Very fussy with their food,
They change their minds just like the wind,
Very often gourmet food is binned,
And then they stalk into 'their' house,
And disembowel some poor mouse,
There is one thing you must never oughta,
Try to wash your cat in soapy water,
The outraged cat will then go wild,
You will then know the devils child,
On the coldest the winter nights,
Cat approaches, purring, right?
Jumps on your lap with kneading paws,
But one false move, you'll feel their claws,
You can never ever own a cat,
They own you, now that's a fact,
Our intelligence they have surpassed,
They've worked out how to lick their ****,
One thing deserves a generous pardon,
They at least crap in neighbours gardens,
I cannot help respect these beings,
I'd never wish to hurt their feelings,
And so I for one will doff my hat,
Towards our Royal highnesses , the cat.
mikev Nov 2015
her lips pressed against mine
guess
i thought i'd be impressed by
now
this wet met oughta get south
woah -
let's not get ahead of ourselves
take piece of the past
make it a nightmare in fact
so many to choose from
no wonder i never adapted
only reacted always distracted
i can't help it, can you?
living in fear, another year passed
last i remember, it was september
falling tears black - feeling sheer trapped
snap back - to now, i don't know where you are
or who you talk to - what you do
or if i'm in your thoughts still -
and trust me, it's impossible for me to pick up the phone
and call, text or whatever - and forget
sending that letter - i write, like each night
oh well - there's always tomorrow i suppose.
Jeremy Betts Jun 2023
Forget it...and forget you for even trying to think you could out run it. You can't handle this shiit nor can you hide from it, should probably quit or at least tone it down a bit, it's starting to get a bit pathetic.
It's already got you, it owns you, I told you. If you are hearing this then it's too late, there's nothing you can do. Sorry not sorry, can't say I didn't warn you. It don't matter if you believe it or not to be true.
It doesn't need you to accept it or to co-sign, it'll provide proof of what it can do in it's own time, in a lone rhyme that sends chills through your bones, directly down your yellow spine
Fuuck, they like to say they're just words but are they? These are like sticks and stones that break bones in a unique way, blacking out your heart and steal your soul away and it starts today...

...with me sitting here writing fear like a smear campaign, an assault on your ear that's so sincere, so severe that it'll appear to adhere to all you hold dear like an unwanted souvenir, make it real as the blood that'll smear from the front to the rear of my Chevy Cavalier from the people who use to be here but were met with the same fate as a lost deer wondering in the freeway just north of here. I know you can hear but have I done enough to make myself perfectly clear?

To make it known that I'm not one you want to mess with unless you've got a death wish, if you want to rot on your own cot in your own personal grave plot I've got the perfect spot to lay you down, plant you in you're own ceramic flower ***, but then I thought I oughta bought a big enough plot of land to lay down all who fall from this onslaught, a verbal Juggernaut but you can still come at me and take a shot if you want

And if you do, if that's the case then by all means, name the time and place cause I prefer face to face, I have this twisted trait that allows me to demonstrate how to create a ****** case, how to keep pace and champion a death race, how to get CSI looking at a piece of cheese on the end of a string i placed under a milk crate after a wild goose chase, not a trace of evidence just a message on the back of a bookcase to further the foot race, so check your shoe lace, you don't want to trip up and fall on your face while running from a phrase like trying to escape your goth days, a ridiculous phase

I lay it out plain and simple, just one well placed word or thought out syllable that will cause a tsunami title wave ripple that'll ******* any defence like Clearasil on a pimple, not a complicated riddle unless you're the monkey in the middle. It'll sit a little easier if we can keep it civil after the acquittal, critical thinking will get you through the hassle, to the end of the castle to save the princess but that's not the end of the battle, the system we're in is not a Nintendo, no Atari with a wired joystick paddle, these words are the detergent just added, nowhere near the rinse cycle, one wrong move could be fatal, if you think this a fable you could be one of the ones to wined up on an autopsy table

But it's damage to your psyche not your body that brought you to one knee, words they said couldn't harm obviously do have that ability, I grip that knowledge firmly, hold on tightly like it's a master key, the bounty is set and out, don't try to flee, got your mind hazy, to foggy to see, no friendly face here, no card to get out of jail free, these words that flow so easy from me hold you in captivity and break you down slowly, fully emersed, wrapped in perverse words like a mummy, held captive in this verse like a dummy, a cursed hostage with no request for no money, no escape once I've got thee and test out my theory that clearly I can do just as much damage with word trickery as one could do with assault and battery or a quick slice of a main vain artery but with no evidence visually I get away scott-free

So listen with caution, this cautionary tale is not spun to further the friction, there's not a fraction of this that's fiction, it's just that I can't stop what's already begun, what's done is done, I've won, your defenses are broken, the threat was one not as obvious as a gun so you thought it innocent fun but the jokes on you son, as soon as you read the caption it was straight to the coffin, my words just happen to often be a little somethin' like Jason, Mr Voorhees on a couple ****** sprees, tape shows once the chasings begun it would do no good to run, a fusion of life and illusion to cause mass confusion and frighten to the point you die of a brain contusion, written in a way that there's no coming back from, fallen from grace, in continuous motion as you fall through the bottom of your rock bottom, a deep chasm, a dark ocean, it's going to be grousome but by that point I'm on to the next one cause I know the outcome, you were ****** from before you could even apply caution,  before you realized you should use a life line to call someone, its already become something that could never be undone, don't look for a cure cause I can assure there ain't none. There's no fun in the remedy so I take action to make sure there ain't one

©2023
Somewhere in your wardrobe, I'd be willing to bet
There's a t-shirt probably bearing the silhouette of Che Guevara

He was revolutionary, yeah, he wore a cool hat
But behind the design I think you might find it's not quite as simple as that

Che was a bit of a homophobe, Che was a bit of a homophobe,
I think... apparently.. who knows?
Che was a bit of a homophobe, Che was a bit of a homophobe

This is my song in defence of the fence
A little sing along, a anthem to ambivalence
The more you know, the harder you will find it
To make up your mind, it, doesn't really matter if you find
You can't see which grass is greener
Chances are it's neither, and either way it's easier
To see the difference, when you're sitting on the fence

Somewhere in your house, I'd be willing to bet
There's a picture of that grinning hippy from Tibet - the Dalai Llama

He's a lovely, funny fella, he gives soundbites galore
But let's not forget that back in Tibet, those funky monks used to **** the poor, yeah

And the Buddhist line about future lives is the perfect way to stop the powerless rising up
And he tells the poor they will live again, but he's rich now so it's easy for him to say

I'm taking the stand in defense of the fence
I got a little band playing anthems to ambivalence
We divide the world into terrorists and heroes
Into normal folk and weirdos
Into good people and ****'s
Into things that give you cancer and the things that cure cancer
And the things that don't cause cancer, but there's a chance they will cause cancer in the future
We divide the world to stop us feeling frightened
Into wrong and into right and
Into black and into white and
Into real men and fairies
Into status quo and scary
Yeah we want the world binary, binary
But it's not that simple.

And your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive
Yea your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive
And your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive
And so does your baby, maybe you oughta trade HIM in for a Prius-
ROCK!

I'm taking the stand in defence of the fence
I got a little band playing tributes to ambivalence
We divide the world into liberals and gun-freaks
Into atheists and fundies
Into tee-tot'lers and junkies
Into chemical and natural
Into fictional and factual
Into science and supernatural
But it's actually naturally not that white and black

You'll be
Dividing us into terrorists and heroes
Into normal folk and weirdos
Into good people and pedos
Into things that give you cancer and the things that cure cancer
And things that don't cause cancer, but there's a chance they will cause cancer in the future
We divide the world to stop us feeling frightened
Into wrong and into right and
Into black and into white and
Into real men and fairies
Into parrots and canaries
Yeah we want the world binary, binary - 011101!

The more you know, the harder you will find it
To make up your mind, it doesn't really matter if you find
You can't see which grass is greener
Chances are it's neither, and either way it's easier
To see the difference
Cause it's not that simple...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wUZIqfHf4c4
Ma Cherie Jan 2017
I could use some hugs,
and I could use some love,
a friend to call an ally
who just laces up a glove,

Don't worry 'bout it friend,
cuz I have got your six,
I'll rescue you tonight,
& get ya out of any fix,

I gladly guard your corner,
an I'll beat down any foe,
I show you what a friend is,
when I'm done you oughta know,

You know that I am loyal,
my homie,
I got you,
I'm the truest friend,
that they will ever hafta rue,

Just try to get right past me,
I'm already wearing armor,
or if a lovely foe,
I will be the sweetest charmer,

I know you're pretty tough,
like nails or so they say,
just like dear old Dad,
yeah you're like him in that way,

I will be your friend,
no matter come what may,

Just know you're not alone,
in the darkness of the day.

Cherie Nolan © 2016
Ugh....I hate being sick. Getting scan today...no idea yet but thanks friends for being in my corner and the love. Ttys I hope ❤❤❤ for my bff & everyone else.
Barefoot ridin' on my Harley
sounds real cool and it looks gnarly
Doin' wheelies on the way
Lookit me, no hands today

Highway surfin in our truck
You know I don't give a F###
Adrenaline it's in my veins
Let's go out and race the trains

What happened to the little voice
That voice of reason in my head
It shows up some, but now it's dead
That voice of reason in my head
Used to sound just like my mother
Then it sounded like my wife
Now, I rarely hear it speaking
It ain't part of my life
What happened to the little voice
That voice of reason in my head
It shows up some, but now it's dead
That voice of reason in my head


Diving into shallow water
I'm ok, do you think I oughta
Walking out on red hot coals
Tingles some and burns my soles

Drinking what there is before me
I don't care as long as it's free
Party time through out the night
I'll be ok, it's outa sight

What happened to the little voice
That voice of reason in my head
It shows up some, but now it's dead
That voice of reason in my head
Used to sound just like my mother
Then it sounded like my wife
Now, I rarely hear it speaking
It ain't part of my life
What happened to the little voice
That voice of reason in my head
It shows up some, but now it's dead
That voice of reason in my head

One day I will die for sure
Heaven has got that allure
But....I didn't listen to the voice of reason
And I'll end up.....WHERE IT AIN'T FREEZIN'

What happened to the little voice
That voice of reason in my head
It shows up some, but now it's dead
That voice of reason in my head
Used to sound just like my mother
Then it sounded like my wife
Now, I rarely hear it speaking
It ain't part of my life
What happened to the little voice
That voice of reason in my head
It shows up some, but now it's dead
That voice of reason in my head
Dan Shay Apr 2010
So you landed on my eye
I'm flattered you thought it was a flower
There's no pollen here only panic

Your furious belabored legs
And crisp black abdomen
burrowing into my lashes like it's your job

It is your job
It's your life
little friend

You oughta go
I won't be sweet and harmless as a flower
Again
bees! bees everywhere!
Green Tea Oct 2020
I find it odd that I'm similar to my bathroom sink
When the lights shine on, the reflection is dull
It'll try to catch everything, a strand of hair, be it brown or gold
But must follow an obligation, so god forbid pink
The hair piles up but the water needs to go down
A responsibility to do so it's forced to go down

I ask for help but told to rethink
When I go back to the drain, the hair becomes wool
"It's useless if it can't function, they oughta be given a scold!
With those worms in their head, they must be sick!
Insecurities, mistakes, failures, and more!"
Criticized even if they've just arrived at the shore

In the pool I think I see mon raison d'etre,
But out goes the hair,
It need to keep working,
Or else it's pushed aside like a crippled mare
A weird/awkward flowing and eccentric poem I didn't know how to revise or fix tbh lol kachow
Cedric McClester Apr 2015
By: Cedric McClester

Democracy or theocracy
The choice is yours
What it’s gonna be
Take another look
At Lady Liberty
And ask yourself this question
Do you like bein free

There’s no doubt that
Christians have good news
But we here in America
Have the right to choose
Some may refuse to bow
Or to acquiesce
But they’re still citizens
None the less

Democracy or theocracy
The choice is yours
What it’s gonna be
Take another look
At Lady Liberty
And ask yourself this question
Do you like bein free

See we’re all equal
In God’s sight
He didn’t designate
The religious right
To rule over
All the rest of us
So in Him believers
Oughta place their trust

Still some out there
Are bound to insist
That’s fine for believers
But the atheist
Should also have the right
To not believe
So their pursuit of happiness
Can be achieved

Democracy or theocracy
The choice is yours
What it’s gonna be
Take another look
At Lady Liberty
And ask yourself this question
Do you like bein free

She prays in a church
And he a synagogue
But even the mosque
Is still the House of God
More than one road
Leads to Rome
And more than one religion
Claims heaven home

Still some out there
Are bound to insist
That’s fine for believers
But the atheist
Should also have the right
To not believe
So their pursuit of happiness
Can be achieved

Democracy or theocracy
The choice is yours
What it’s gonna be
Take another look
At Lady Liberty
And ask yourself this question
Do you like bein free


(c) Copyright 2015. Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved/
Cameron Greer Feb 2016
Everything about you and everyone you know
What you had for breakfast and where you plan to go
Who you call and what you say and precisely where you are
Every visit to the doctor, the mileage on your car

The books you like, the food you buy, the bloggers that you read
How much you gave to charity, your attitude to ****
Every contact, every text, every on-line search
The way you dress, the way you walk, the last time you went to church

No none of this is private now; you're an information source
Of interest to the agencies of order, law, and force
It's for the common good - no really! Can't you see?
And this discussion now, it's over; it's about security

And while we're on the subject, someone really oughta
Keep an eye on her next door; at least until we've caught her
And be mindful what you wish for, now thought-crime's here to stay
But hey! It's Britain not North Korea!  Just mind how you go, OK?

Oh you have to hand it to the creeps - they've diligently been sifting
Not through your bins or bank account when ALL your data lifting
They've no need for tricks or subterfuge since you handed them the keys
You let them in unwittingly, and at the time, were pleased

So now you're pinned and wriggling on their glass one-way wall
You've no more secrets hidden 'cos you've given them them all
Privacy is dead and buried, too late now for bereavement
You slaughtered it yourself:  End User Licence Agreement

It's too late too for tin-foil hats, too late to complain
And anyway, how would you? You've forfeited this game
Join the Twitterati? Start a Facebook page?
Tell your mates on WhatsApp?  All adds more padlocks to your cage

P'raps best not to think too much about it; Yes that's the easy call
Lie back and LOL at kittens, watch Gogglebox, but actually think sod all
Yes buy your Funeral Insurance – it's acquired a curious appeal
And accept, why not, the Kardashians might actually be real

With opinions now as changeable as your boxer shorts
Grey and saggy throwaways, masquerading as your thoughts
You got the lot in Primark's sale, with your knickers and your socks
And you feel freer now than ever, inside your tiny airless box

And that's the way we like it; your illusion of control
Costs us little and lets us rule you in body, heart and soul
So make no waves, do not stand out, enjoy your bread and games
Don't try to dodge the system or we'll cast you to the flames

“Nothing to hide, then nothing to fear” is something you've no doubt heard
But those who shout it loudest know best that it's absurd
So peer behind the curtain, examine every single word
   Because you know they've cracked it... yes finally cracked it...
     The polishing to perfection -  to immaculate, flawless, gleaming perfection - of
Every
Single
****
A couple of UK-centric references in this one, but, hey...
Cunning Linguist Apr 2017
S
  p
   i
  r
a
l
   i
   n
g

   d
    o
   w
      n
-
[an
infinite
abyss]
-
A temporal anomaly
peaking your drift
Perusing the cosmos,
within Dude's rocketship

Quarantined as a species
from contact with the Gods-
Odds are they're too busy banging
new milky ways into the stars
While you're pensive, quantum-plating
the nature of existence
Prayers fall unto deaf ears
too apathetic to listen

Godspeed towards the rift,
Time bends at the edge of a black hole
-But only the tip

My seeds melt into the motherverse
So I get down on it,
Cunning Linguist eats his words
Oedipus'd be jealous,
In slow motion
Impregnates spacetime itself;
With a big bang fellatious 
 
Thus, the holy seed of life
Was ****** into the void~~~
Perpetuating strife
Into the *****, of beyond

Its not a paradox if you simply process
0 and 1 at once
1 can go into 0
as many times as it wants

8====D~~(Y)

Preach level = Jim Jones
just the punchline's too long
Your golden idol,
Holy ****,
Bless this nut that I bust
I'll stretch my luck
To the sum of existence
Until it comes full circle

Voracious, bodaciously
Spatial in stasis
Without patience
Inseminating your eyeholes
Through lines of text

Transcendental
Entangled in a
  Δ,
With a devil & angel
Dimensions oughta coalesce
At just the right angle

Y'all haven't the wherewithal
To feel my *****
Slap-happy against one's skull
Put the rock in the hard place
Neanderthal
Meander tall, in the wave of thought,
The photons in your DNA are all but shot

I will abduct your subconscious
To probe through your thoughts
* testing Testing *
are you turned on?
Feel your genitals tingling ~~
I'm simultaneously dichotomic
Jerxin off my dingaling
playing your heartstrings like a harp

Allow me to go deeper
& penetrate your very reason for being.
Is the life that you're seeing
-Just the information eyes are receiving
-Only what your mind is perceiving
-Abstract thought is just too deceiving no
Can you even conceive it?

Why bother

Wanna switch positions
so you can see
where I'm coming from?
Go ahead and tell me,
are the heavens not
what you've dreamt of

A smoldering ember
in a once burning sky
Life of a former divine,
Masquerading as an angel of light
A furnace see:
 **nihl
Tethered,
To the nethers
On the outskirts of the universe
Sjr1000 May 2018
Can you tell me
please
which way now is home
I used to know, my dear
The way was clear
There was no fear

Tying my walking shoes
I knew I needed to get clear of here
thought I'd find
all that was dear

The road though, it is narrow
The cliff it is shear
My balance is
woozy

Can you tell me my dear

which way is home
which way do I go from here,
I think I oughta know
But the hills they are wavering
The ocean is in turmoil
The mountains are slick
far too dangerous

The desert has no mercy

I know something and with this knowledge
I think I must be cursed
I think I have it
Peace & Home
goes and comes
and comes and goes.
Love beyond love that I naturally feel
for a person no words work for
but feelings can't conceal
when in person the experience is real
then the words come and change them to steel
oh you you oughta and it should be this sorta
but I love you so much I love you my ...
Alex Houlton Feb 2019
Not quite a teen
Land of maple syrup, winter dreams and moose
Everyone polite

Into the scene
Five star escape to fancy cars, spruced beverages and limousines
Arrived tonight

Me and cousin Simon
Lets dive in cuz I've done nothing but sit for like forever let me loose
Age hour long flight

Got your towel son?
Yes Mum see ya later be careful yes mum you're not to be out all night
Yes Mum alright

Lets be foul
Bets and dares, knock n run stitch ups, wreck past the elevator take the stairs
Switch off lights

Hello hey you, we're new wheres the pool?
Not far you'll need to go below the lobby down the hall past the breakfast bar
Turn right

There it is after all
I was first, whose that girl she's pretty like her hair dunno probbly older don't be daft
Shes a sight

Lets be bold and impress her
We'll do flips you go forward I'll go back bet mines better you're the worst who cares
Smack

Ow my head
Has it bled no its fine, i like her lips one more time with style
Splash

Nailed it
Did she see my dip did you see her, did she smile she didn't see
Smack

Jesus that hurt
Is it bleeding no it isnt, think I slipped need to jump in further to the drink
Splash

That was something
Oughta be worth a glance no chance you're a drip, oi lets fly then dont be scared
Smack again

Doesnt hurt it's fine
Its bleeding no its not dont pretend, hey look shes sorta staring with her friend
Hey whys the water pink?
Ken Pepiton Jul 2022
89 sets of eyes had seen the first eighth
made public, Tobagoan dimes,
then it was 96
I made'em up, bought the whole mint,
and went into serious business,

re-evaluating dime bags, when John D,

Mr. Dee, he
hands me this silver dime, about 1917.
Says he, gimme the Time's

and I'm about to
when into 2022 i-sense, calculualualchange
in time,

on a dime among many, my own dime.
I invested that liberty given me, for using
old news in good ways once used to force
a reading of the rules.

Would there were a Daysman, betwixt us.
would we had this tech back when,
term papers - ended curiosity
or drove home the point to madness,

all
you know, ex
plodes… pop. And if you breathe
another line
per haps it is one of mine, we think

at old printer's devil, filling space, pace.
Skimming troposh-pherical Miramarical,

thought speed past the other way
one
of these days, you said, these days, we
say today. You are safe
where now is today, and not when this whole
lesson in shared pain per gain, proud son,
prior to changes in the rules
- is allowed to lead to gun play

game on. That fast.
The future has me in it from the start/
I have a mind to tell you all I know,
Pro-ver-bee, do be, do, you know

It was an organized mind, rhearranger
of my fingers on these
keys, i-i-I ai ai ai think these keys, were magic

in the beginning, some men trusted in horses,
some men trusted in leasing and releasing
land… who won?

Eh, not o'er yet. EH, they have wakened
a sleeping giant,

yeah, I paid a price to discover that fact.
Dillon, Montana, storefront all johnnyrebbed up.

I lost the best phone I ever owned, with all the
evidence of hoped for things attained
and apprehended with full ready
set for alz-heimlichkeit kriegspeigel- mir-ror

mar-velous. World of 2022. Within Covideo
5G- wiz mom the fridge is 5G

G is for Guidance, child. Traditions do not change
truths. Oaths welded to the guardian's heart,

pow wer wordsssun-ng
choking in dust, as the eagles gather round the
whole idea
-comfort, ease
in security, we exist in air, as words people think
after reading something old,
fifty years, ago, change wa'swift,
an entire jubilee for most all sworn
legit-liga-mental mind made up to be a way for a reason,
oaths, Breach of contract, old school rules, you lie,
you die, before you unveil the secret place, we be, in, I mean,
so help me, God, on the Bible-level
like on TV,
depending on your experience in the realm of words.

You are now a Kierkeyardian Troen Ridder Wannabe.

Some things you may imagine, leave percussion…
- humms al'lowed to fifteen since then,
- that summer with Pattie Maffeo
- whoa, this idea- drum roll
Rudd, Hersey made me up, and I grew up, in here.

-- Phidelity is only secret to those who must hide.
Inside us, outside us, inside me is not inside you.

These are words, these are sense in your head,
more swiftly than the author choses to believe.

Ping, chorus, another one bites the dust.

Isolation in realization that an ifery, an actual
one
real-live ifery situation, with the body environment
alive
and breathing and
comfortable, thanks for allowing that, I bring some
every time I come,
pop
you can't say that. right or wrong, how long is ruled
valid in code any kid in any country can translate.

Who says we saw every thing
change.
When we was young,
faster paster now as then, I swore

as real as any ride I ever imagined alone.
All things are better when you know, though.

A churchyard child bade me listen, you may know
as we grow in knowledge, as a species,
from a phylum
at the core… we can, and have

we can imagine, yes, and have
haps, in pers and mays, hap-pen
happenstance,
Manifest on TV, that
is power to convey a story, requiring
minds with binge-in-Covid-season, after season,
immunity to cliché ¿ make every idle guess reasonate

Hate ain't 'hate when I do that' kinda thing
hate is evil, you know, no idle word, evil
living words can hold any thought a team of two
agree to allow
- spacetime to think-?
G-qualified Art Intuition, this is not ****,
we know it when we see it, what is this thing

we agreed with, this corporate structure,
many many many tiered this tinker toy thing

A Robin Williams seed, I think, Jim Hunt.
What dreams have come.
And we aren't done.
Icahn's history, I was not even in the game.

Here's one, eight lines from go
go
go man
go

gotcha, johnny be good slood
on a legendary curse
into sec-secondcoming.com

justice, sir, I must say, I just ring the bell.

--------------- hello poetry hello world

5G and starlink, if I stay in the green zone//

From Montana, that 5G fridge, messaged me,

my almond milk is out of use by,
did you die?
we know you are old. We will check again.

At random, I assume, my captain's chair,
and survey my realm
- 26 thousand unread emails… how much
- is my pending attention to any one worth?
I rub my stubble and scratch my half year hair.
I oughta get up
and go/ chorus there, and go

I ought get up and go, but I got no place

I'd rather be,
right now, with you… who
stole that from some show, no body you don'
know.

Some things happen,
when you know,
they do… the color does not set the mood

the time
just hasta be right.
mama
mama always wished to know,
when does it end,
when does it end,

electric shock begins, the folding in daze,
folding pages in donated Sears & Roebuck's
catalogues,
to make door stops, to hold ever locked doors
open, for our grand children, wait
and see, in deep dementia, did she mention…
Tech that functions is so easy to entreat...
Samuel Champney Oct 2018
I've always thought of you
But the thought of loosing you,
Has driven me to pharmaceuticals.

Quit, I know I oughta to,
But I just feel the benzos pulling through,
What the Hell shall I do?

So I try to play it down,
Even though its only opie
It still aint half as bad as brown.

Lets lighten it up,
Don't wanna be no dope fiend
But like a pent up bull to red
I head straight for the shop bought codeine

Oh cody, you don't make me swell,
If anything man, you make my being well,
For that small amount of time
I feel I can take on the world
Until I get to tomorrow and I feel I've created Hell!

All the things we do,
Just so we can feel the warmth,
Finding our little cliques,
Just by the way we talk.

Have you tried this,
This ones hit and miss,
Mix it in with this,
For eternal bliss.

Now I've heard it all before
Nothing improves and nothing changes,
But there's something in the brain
That promises you can catch that Dragon once again.

The Dragon flies high
With the fire in his belly,
But you haven't any,
So why you trying to catch him.
(So why do you even try).
Some notes I took during my ****** phase.
Elyse Lee Feb 2015
All this room to fill
All these emotions to feel

Emotions coordinate with velvet
Sensitive to the touch
Warm to the heart
You can never pull the two apart
I oughta keep a hold of my helmet
Before I go falling for your stunts

I won't stay waiting for the snow
Instead I'll pray you'll meet me under this miseltoe
I will always think your Gold even without a show
All I ask is stop making me look like a fool

You hold my hand like glass
You kiss me with no pressure to the lips
You make me think we won't last
You have put me where I'm frozen at my hips
Olivia Kent Sep 2013
Glorious day.
The Sabbath day.
Saw my little daughter.
Probably shouldn't oughta.
Cost me dear.
Gave her payday loan.

On the way home peeped over the bridge.
Down in the docks magnificence stood.
A queen and traveller.
As mountains in dock.
Waiting until the bells on the clock.
Decree it's time to leave.
To set them free.
To rove the seas again.

Tall and silent they stood no evidence of kerfuffle.
No brass bands just silence.
As cavernous funnels scratched the sky.
The queen had funnels.
The traveller none.

Appear like a tower block on the dock.
The Venturer was truly a giant.
Queen Mary minimal in some strange comparison.
Beautiful and elegant in their domain.

Got home.
Sat on my bed.
Delighted as my stomach was fed.
Looked out of my room.
Over the gardens.
Up the path.
More sunflowers .
Than were there before.
Many more blooming like solar majesty.

Queen of the gardens v queens of the sea.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
I wrote this after going past Queen Mary 2 and Venturer in the docks.
I thought maybe comparing the queens of the seas with the queen of the garden may be a cool idea .
Kait Marie Mar 2012
My thoughts are dabbled
across the floor
My memory lies beneath the sink
with the must and the Brillo pads
I flushed my attitude down the john
I think the dog is chewing on my  heart
Or buried it someplace
My understanding is somewhere behind the couch
And God, who knows where my self-confidence is
I left my laugh in the hamper
along with my shriveled grin
I think ended up lending out my pride
to the neighbor who never returns things
Oh, the cat must have hacked up on my dreams
I think that's my intelligence somewhere
between the stale Bologna and brandy
And I know that my tolerance
is strewn from the staircase
That must be my willingness
that's collecting mold
I'm pretty sure that's my perseverance
behind the broken lamp post
And is that my trust
underneath that piece of toast
Wait, I think that's my voice
crashing dishes
Or is that my happiness
that's tearing up floorboards
It could be my tranquility
that's tracking dirt in
Are those my wishes
that's tipping over furniture
I can't quiet tell if that's my dignity
or individuality under one of those shoes
Well, whatever it is, I think it's moving
There's a bunch more clutter lying around
and quite a bit more positivity that needs re-homing
I oughta think about cleaning up
but for now
I'll sweep it under the
carpet
Jeremy Betts Mar 2024
Laying motionless on a riverbed,
Drowning at rock bottom constantly
I hate to admit it but
That's where you'll most commonly find me
No landmarks, no marked miles,
Got lost on the back roads to recovery
I finally pulled out of this nosedive of false certainty
Just to expectedly fall back into the same trajectory
Distractions follow closely,
Waiting to complicate the wrong actions I already make consistently
That's a disastrous recipe
That's what has made my present day a fraction of what I think it oughta be
This has to be far more than what I have coming to me
Like what I've repaid triggers karma's selective memory

©2024
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
'Put my hand in the hand of the man from Galilee,

that song keeps playing in my memory, and I recalled

Or I thought I did, I imagined he'd walk with me
and talk with me
Along life's merry (or was it narrow?), way

a light touch, his arm around my shoulders,
as boys are wont to do,
I axed 'im,
help me fill the darkness behind my eyes,
which I think may have been blind, at that time,

I have memories like that.
packed away in old memes. That mean something...
Gold-something...
color maybe, Goldfarv? Bloom.
Right, my augmentatious savant
looked it up and I sorted what I recalled

Google The Global Brain, Howard Bloom,
where he named a kind of
category of knowability. Memes, he called them.

And I thought, memes mean something more,
not Dawkins's, nor Bloom's, but these,
heteromemes bubbling out my belly button,
look real close.

Here a seeing being done, words appearing...

fractally featureless by the time a clock could have been imagined,

the point of the story was made,
and there is no end in sight.

Pop. Another apocalypse bubble collapses by mortality. Whaddyaknow?

What remains when a bubble pops at a positron level,
after the charge is touched and
the tension-power-loss collapses the bubble?

You should think, you know atoms work, this way.

Touchy bubbles disappear when their form is disinformed,
the wall of a bubble,
one quanta of power thick,
vanishes
as the charge that formed it flees.
That bubble,
not cloud-based, random super positioning,but
elect
tric-magi-tech, a touch screened
at the quantum accounting point of real-ification,
but, probably,
a bubble,indeed,
powered, one way or another, with a single charge,
Go, that's it.
(I charge thee, son Timothy, go)
That's all an electron does.
It goes, as soon as any sense can be made of it,
outa here, oughta hear it, clear,
ping. No charge, no bubble, but next sure as...
No, ah, when I think about that..

Hell,
somethi' from nuthin musta hapt one time,

but ya'll take no heed, this voice,
m'fallin angel, Tantan, droppin' in ol-fren, tricky hybridbast...

Noah was a tellin' Ham the truth
found in wines that moved themselves aright,
slurry tongued, and laughin' but pisstoff.

The idea of somethin' goin' south in a family,
that started up again when
ever Noah started drinkin' old wine, sayin' sbetter'n...

Old story, God damened 'em, not me, I just
built the box.

Who told you I was naked? Noah queried Shem.

-- aye, ye know, Noah was drunk,
No excuse, but you know.

Things were said, that maybe could be forgotten, after a while,

But those father wounds a man imagines worst
are the one's his son's forgot.
Forgot can't be forgiven it seems, sometimes...

The story being told is complicated. See,
the Bible is a lens,
not a map.

I've looked so long through that lens,
that I began to see the bubble formed around me,
charged powerfully with fear,
'yond my bubble monsters lurked.

But, my bubble bumped another,
purest of happenstance,
the bubbles merged and merged again,
their power building to a wave,
crashing to the shore and no more
was I bubbled in my safe place.

I found this trail up from the beach.

It got me much farther than this, should you ever
visit me.
Did you regret the defeat at Ai,
or were you
Aachen, bold?

No, irrelevant, obtuse allusion to Yahshua,
that's not in the stack,
that card's about as relevant as McLuhan's hair of the dog.

Information unformed begins to boil deep in me.

Somethin', ain't it?  All them three meter dishes shrunk down
to the size of a spoon, a teeny weeny spoon, a coke spoon,
like on Miami Vice, back when.

Satellite TV changed the desert, fer sher, but 4g, brohan,

that was the trick. Elect trick.
Future, on demand, where outhouses are still de rigueur.

Before you know it, country kids,
too poor for any but outlaw dreams,
can audit courses at MIT,
if somebody
shows him, it can be done, prove t' him
it works, faith can make things happen,
but
happening as an event, in the Deep Field,
is sorta hard to nail down to one thing,
until the very last
Planc-sec.  
Astrophysics is part of the metagame, fer sher.
But
there's some stuff that takes some patience,
to learn. Fifty year'r longer.

Everything that's old and still works is only old, not rotten.

Olde time religion, at the oldfo'k dayroom,
where the clock runs the whole show.
It's another game show. Saint Bob Barker takes a bow,
and declares the potential worth of all your eyes behold,
behind the curtain,
lies the prize.

If, if, if you are a luckywinner and
you arise when I call your name
to come on down,
fall on your knees and declare the worth...

pure gamesmanships required here, golf whispers only,
worship, 'smuch more difficult to aim for than praise.
I agree.
Praise, appraisal, worthyness, worthship, prize, what's the diff?
How comes a thing to be worthy,
in your estimation? Tell me no lie.

A feeling? What's it worth?
Depends.
Safe? Priceless! Don't shout. There's money to make.

'Got a busy-ness pre-positioned high above the rest.
A super-positioned superstion. The darkness.
See, safety is a human right.
So we sell walls, impermeable. It's always, lights on
within, then
We'll be rich and powerful wallbuilding,
citi-zen warriors fed and fattened
by those we make
feel safe, from the dark unknowns seeping in.

That's the idea. It's worked for years, at least
since
we saw the Power in Myth and
capitalized Campbell's bliss and Sagan's billions and billions of stars.

Within these walls workers will work for food and a feeling.
And Facebook.
They choose a place and stand, and do what comes to hand.
Heartily
grip what's easiest for you to hold on to,
they are told.

Attendants bring the meds, settling every disruption
of the peace the patient craves in his comfort.
The price ain't right, m'mouthmumbles...

You are absolutely co-rect-allatime, tekayepeel.

There are wishes being made,
on all manner of stars
for happy ever afters.

If wishes were askings, what if
connecting to the source of haps which,
every expert knows, haps are
all happiness can possibly
consist of.
Oh, consist.
That sticky, gluteny idea stuck in my daily bread.
It's related to resist, desist and the command to stand.
Sistere. Shield-wall and all that. Turtles all the way down.

A disruption!
Day room Now! Granpa's shouting,

This is that bomb, this is a dam buster Jesus H Christ Bomb!
I'll drop it. I swear.

Something's bound on earth to go wrong,
ever since Eve bit that apple, if she'da left that apple on the apple tree
Nah, that ain't how it went down and
songs about it don't change it none.

But, maybe this is me interrupted... in my meander.

What if, nothing is immaterial,
as an idea, it can't go wrong,
and Murphy's law, obeyed, is good, all the time.
If nothing can go wrong, it won't.
Ask the pilot flying by faith in his checklist.

What if,
asking for help helps?
Was that a message? A touch by an angel?
Spirit, the idea? An answered prayer?

Are you familiar with its role in reality?
Something makes these bubbles spin, y'know.

Ignoring is bliss, nay,
No more,
precisely, nevermore,
quoth the raven, shall the man who can read
be locked away from all the stories,
telling eventualities that
men, wombed and un,
have told and tested for ever, it seems,

Stop
striving for perfection and let patience have her way witcha,

whatcha learn can change the world.

Look back. Good news from a far country come our way.
Grandpa made some sense and we built a fort, of pillows
This is a reworking of Good news from a far country, I am attempting to rein in my scattered mind. Let me know if you see improvement or parts in need thereof.
JM Romig Dec 2009
I couldn't sleep last night.
Something about the sound
Of the trains kept me up
Thinking of you.

That night you stood next to the tracks
As one flew past
You said "*** you oughta try this"
"It's like no other rush"
I said "Baby don't get too close"
You said "Baby, I can't get close enough."

Go back about three months
I picked you up from the hospital
Another visit with your mother.
But you don't want to talk about it.

We get stuck at the same tracks
And the train picks up.
You say, "God ****** this is *******"
"This always happens, It's just our luck."
I say "Baby, it's moving pretty fast."
You say "It can't move fast enough."

Rewind a week or so
We were laying under the stars
And amidst our Deep conversation
Another Train rolled by.

I held you you close as it scaled the tracks
In that monotonous drone
You say "I hate this town."
"It's like a black hole- that *****."
I say "We can move far away"
You say "We can't move far enough."

I squeezed your hand
To reassure you that we can.
You just smiled and shook your head.
Like I had just told you gravity didn't exist.

That day, Stuck behind those tracks
I realized that you were right
That night, under the stars
You said "No matter where you go"
"There will be tracks that lead back home"
I said "So, Tracks alone aren't going to remind us."
You said "Baby, the sound of the Trains will be enough."

I couldn't sleep last night.
It's been seventeen years-
And thirteen states-
But those trains always seem to find me.

I said "baby, don't get too close"
You said "Baby i can't get close enough."
But this time,
You were wrong.
Copyright © 2010 J.M. Romig. All rights reserved.- From Destination: Detour - The Mini Chapbook
g clair Sep 2013
cowboys and indians, old as the hills
enlightened by alcohol's forces;
like big children playing, it gives me chills
they oughta be out riding horses.
washed-up, on shore, the old yellow notebook
  out again
  I write from the bed
  as I did last
  year.
  will see the doctor,
  Monday.
  "yes, doctor, weak legs, vertigo, head-
  aches and my back
  hurts."
  "are you drinking?" he will ask.
  "are you getting your
exercise, your
  vitamins?"
  I think that I am just ill
  with life, the same stale yet
  fluctuating
  factors.
  even at the track
  I watch the horses run by
  and it seems
  meaningless.
  I leave early after buying tickets on the
  remaining races.
  "taking off?" asks the motel
  clerk.
  "yes, it's boring,"
  I tell him.
  "If you think it's boring
  out there," he tells me, "you oughta be
  back here."
  so here I am
  propped up against my pillows
  again
  just an old guy
  just an old writer
  with a yellow
  notebook.
  something is
  walking across the
  floor
  toward
  me.
  oh, it's just
  my cat
  this
  time.
In the silt
the milt
the making of man,
the coming of dawn
the morning begun,
the run through the trees,
the taking,
invoking the spirits to please,
smoking a peace pipe
wearing a second stripe
we're all in the war of what went before and
what's not here yet.

In ten thousand years they will dig up my bones
professors will view me and talk in hushed tones.
I'll be in the museum, some, will come down to see me,the fragrance of history etched in the memory of lines scratched by bullhorns,when the lawman kicked in the door man and that can't be right man.

And for now we will take it,we get used to the *******,we
were brought up on horseshit,in the spitting my way through the saliva today,
I walk upon tainted water, turned to ice, think i oughta use a ****** to slaughter the unborn of the daughters of the devil who sort of knows exactly where I'm at.

In the vat where the system is rising unbidden to fall and be hidden
I stir and stare at reflections.
Causticji May 2015
Hope,
she waited on my table,
but I,
I took my own sweet time
to make up my mind.

"A round of shots,
and better make it snappy"
"No can do sir,
for it's a dry day"

So I
stole a glance at my wrist,
midnight
- the hour was nigh.

I had time,
all the time in the world,
"Swing by
when the time is right"

As
I saw her go,
***
I saw and I thought:

She's a real keeper,
I just have to have her,
amuse her,
make full use of her,
but tread cautious
lest I abuse her.

Pie,
one wild night
oughta do the trick.
So I,
dashed to the restroom
made sure I looked slick.

The hour
struck ten times
and twice,
the hour,
it came and went,
but by then
she was long gone.

Faith,
she took over
served me shot after shot.
Knocked
them down
did I them all.

Besotted,
I struggled to my feet,
dragged myself
out of the watering hole.

As I stumbled
out on the porch,
dainty hands,
they broke my fall.

"You're in no shape
to be out on your own.
It's past closing time,
I'll drive you home."

Besotted,
I gazed upon
her, her tempting gist.
Beckoned
did Faith, was
in no state to resist.

Endings,
ever after,
or till this date,
Faith
by my side,
sad twist of fate.

Hope,
witchy, Wiccan,
mirage,
black magician?
Me,
muppet,
voodoo doll,
puppet.

Hope
still springs,
eternally in my heart,
Hope,
I wait,
though it's too late.
wordvango Aug 2016
can we all hunker down
under the Magnolias
in the sand of the Plantation
driveway under
a confederate flag anymore?

draw our plans like Lee
would have, with a saber
a picture of lines
scribbled in the sand-
our carbine- loaded by our side
at the ready
our heritage the old war
or states rights
or slavery

when so much time and  lives
have passed
and people oughta know more
about peoples,
about history,
about struggling

which all races do.
It wasn't pretty then.
Not the least bit.
And cotton , high or otherwise,
needs no slavery,
and bigotry is
ancient as
sorghum and
horse meat.

And man is man, proven to depend on a
falsity or hate  to
defend his ancestry, his teachings,
instead of the question.

Here, with a stick
I scribble, while
down hunkering,
the least threatening position,
to ask of myself,
have I done what
I could. And the answer
of course,
the black man and the Mexican,
the Redman, the sensible ,
might answer, is
it will take time.
Do we have enough?
uh who's the most dangerous emcee?
on the m-i-c
not from the NYC
But spit classics like biggie
ya gotta respect me
check my pedigree
makin' all newbees quick retirees
ya just another flea
on my paws watch yo jaw
I leave crowds in awe N all they saw
was yosef in the limelight
sayin' his rhymes tight
**** game swole as dolemite
say it with me ya wanna be like me
never loose to them thinner kids
Make ya bleed from ya eyelids
bustin' at you ya crew
and ya walt disney tattoos
Always catchin snafus
Keep my Navigator on cruise
big balla even got a statue
of myself
crossin' me is bad for ya health
dont ya know my gun crew
stays in stealth
heads above the water quick to slaughter
all those haters oughta
eradicate ya self
or im coming at cha
with the gat
but i aint mad at ya?
bloods rushin' major concussion
as ya heart beat like a percussion
end of discussion
still i bust on fools crushin'
who dont know the rules ?
from H-town to Jeruz
roll through a tinted mercedes in blue jump suit
quick shoot extract ya loot
ya should know how i get down
like Marciano
I knock em out
pound for pound
as the crows  gather around
ya body as ya lay lifeless
on the ground!
Cedric McClester Nov 2017
By: cedric McClester

Pray for Tina
That her affliction doesn’t last
It might be her history
But her destiny’s not her past
There’s a way out for her
I know that there can be
I’m talking about Tina
But the example might well be me

Pray for Tina
She can be redeemed
No one is as hopeless as
At first they might have seemed
She has aspirations too
She can live the things she dreamed
Because prayer can change everything
Like God above has deemed

Pray for Tina
She could be your daughter
I’m asking you to pray for her
Because you know you oughta
She needs our support
And encouragement
To keep her from the path
On which she seems hell-bent

Pray for Tina
You see her every place
In your neighborhood
Or wherever is the case
She doesn’t look much different
From you or even I
The problem with Tina is
She might prematurely die










Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2017.  All rights reserved.
Gary L Misch Oct 2011
We all looked for peace,
But peace was never where we were,
Peace was at home,
Better there
Than where we were,
Funny how
The fellows with the least use
For a peace
Were those who'd never put
The uniform on,
A golden bunch of
Chicken hawks,
Too smart,
And too important,
To risk their lives,
They oughta send their daughters,
Said
A man of few words,
Him with only half a face,
Well,
We didn't join
For the money,
Did we?
Can there really be peace,
In the place we left
To go to war?
I thank God my son is
Back there,
I'll ask him,
When I see him,
Next.
Ken Pepiton Dec 2021
Try this, it's {like}kid baseball, no grownups,
and only mental no hardware,
eyes glazed, as we accept
- we saw him, baseballman,
- corner of Santa Monica and Western
he played this same game
but we are
all grown ups, for the session, and we
volunteered, but we
do not
at the moment recall, reconnect, reconcile
one
mind, o
, my god. wjatdewdotame? tamed me?
blamed me? shamed me, got'amyou,
made me
the father of others who know I never knew,
but they knew, why
her and all her kids knew, eden was mine,
the I traded that
for her,
without ever
really, with out, out most ever, knowing
why I never noticed, she knew just
what to do, and I never learned,
wham- thankyewma'm

why did the guy never know, really war is wrong,
and she knew, yet she set herself as prize.
Who knew,
they all knew, able proved n'able was a name
for those who found it funny to hurt with fire
and smoke and savory fatted beast feast fired

desires to know, more, moremore, barren womb
more rave ravening black wings now mean
mean and I mean it, I win or I die, I try
umph.

and a more is a matter of opinion,
some times,
it feels staged, inserted for drama, as if drama,
is a god, or a guardian spirit,
per haps
may haps, we creak, and stretch our spine n mine
pops, gas, escapes, internal pressure adjusts,

a sigh,
you may be reading
for pleasure, less likely you came this far for
the upaginthewall-weall-alley ****** at the core,

as you think, mmhm
in your heart you are,
re-
swing low, sweet chariot, I got no place to go.
And this ain't hell.
And I oughta know.

So, merry message
of the annual effort
to enjoy
on purpose
conciliation apprizals as to
what counts
gift or thought behind it?
Because I have the power of the press, as it evolved in context of good news distribution effect.
Dipansh Jan 2017
Depression is hell and tis a *****.
I hear Lucifer himself whispering.
You, 'buddy', are a mole. You're a snitch.
I'm numb, angry, sad. So **** confusing.
I can't trust anyone. What, why, how, which?

I'm not sure just what am I writing..
You want poetry. Not my ranting..
I can't help myself. I feel helpless..
I'm not weak. Done that, been places.

Forgive me for wasting your time.
Venting, words are dozen a dime..
They don't always make sense.
Heck, nor do I.. No surprises.

I think, I oughta shut up now...
Made enough fool of myself..
Will share happy thoughts..
When, and if it all, I ain't so low..
Depression filled Thursday... It's the same everyday. Just seems harder to deal with now. I wish I could go away. I just don't know where... (Forgive me for using the word '*****'. I dunno the rules.. Will take it down if asked to..) Thank you for your time.. God bless you.

— The End —