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Wandering Biku Aug 2020
In this Developed Nation, a 19 year old woman sleeps in a bag in a door way.
In this Developed Nation, a working family of four relies on the local food bank.
In this Developed Nation, grandmothers live on a pittance and die lonely.
In this Developed Nation, my friends use drugs to fill a spiritual chasm.
In this Developed Nation, stateless refugees are kept in cages while processed.
In this Developed Nation, slave labour is abolished, but persists.
In this Developed Nation, the media patronizes and panders to the lowest common denominator.
In this Developed Nation, the unscrupulous employers bulldoze workers rights.
In this Developed Nation, the population is kept divided and ineffective.
In this Developed Nation, ‘I’m not a racist...but...’
In this Developed Nation, black people are stop/searched nine times more than whites.
In this Developed Nation, under four percent of **** reports end in conviction.
In this Developed Nation, seventeen percent of adults take anti-depressants.
In this Developed Nation, suicide is the biggest killer of men under fifty.
In this Developed Nation, children cut themselves to relieve pain.
In this Developed Nation, I’m a snowflake if I care.

What has this Nation Developed into?
More a mini rant than a poem
Zombee Sep 2014
-

just another paper
that
panders to the lowest
common deNominator.

-
sorry to Dis...
...appoint you.
i wasnt trying to
ruin yer Bliss;
but
this is all you Get.


sorry, just being Ann...
(coughs)
...Candid........Frank,
whatEver you call it.


- candidate for class Clown
Glenn McCrary Mar 2012
Upon pulchritude I gandered
Alchemy materialized
Adamant sentiments mere panders
Upon pulchritude I gandered
Fervor ascended, language stammered
Imagery never once had I theorized
Upon pulchritude I gandered
Alchemy materialized
Mateuš Conrad May 2022
the day's almost finished and i'm sitting with a glass
of a whiskey and pepsi: sharpshooter...
   what's a sharpshooter? three parts whiskey
one part pepsi... that's called a sharpshooter...
by that i mean: the alcohol will not creep up on me
esp. like they serve it in bars... three parts pepsi
one part whiskey... no: better the whiskey be apparent...

and i'm rereading my first encounter with
Charles Bukowski: i remember the first time i came
across him... i was having a psychotic meltdown
back in 2007... running up and down Glasgow in
the sun... i don't know what was more mad:
me or the weather in Glasgow... usually western
Scotland is bound to perpetual rain...
                 but it was sunny that day...
                   well... i don't know how many trips
i made between London, Edinburgh and Glasgow...
running aimlessly: most probably from my shadow,
whether it was that day or the other
i booked a hotel room... i ran out of it after about
5 minutes in panic mode... leaving everything
behind, except for my wallet which i had in my trousers,
but my passport? i don't know why i had
it on me... i only got it back from the Glasgow police
station after a year or so...
                      long story: bad memories...

but i remember that first encounter with Bukowski...
what matters most is how well you walk
through the fire
: in the bookshop i stood there in awe....
because the first poem i read was,
oddly enough insanity

    sometimes there's a crazy one in the street.
    he lifts his feet carefully as he walks.
    he ponders the mystery of his own ****...

    ...sometimes there's a crazy one walking in the street.
       he slips past with a black crowd on this shoulder

obviously i had to buy that book...
back then i was buying books like mad...
i bought that book and the Brothers Karamazov...
oddly enough: i have read it...
to be frank i'm starting to suspect that i'm
pretty well read - but that doesn't surprise me:
after all, reading saved my sanity...
as much as insanity was "fun" i wanted to return
to structures...

            it's not much fun compulsively thinking
about the "secret" meaning of car registration
plates... i'm serious: in my head it was THAT bad
at one point... my entire world view disintegrated
into... a large **** on a pile of spaghetti Bolognese
looks better...

          obviously i'm... sure... i'd recommend going
mad... lucky for me: i wasn't taking to any mental hospital...
maybe that's why i was so introverted for
most of my 20s... hell... i lost all my youth to psychosis...
not all my youth: the youth where you could have
all the ****** fun... but from what i heard:
most men haven't had that sort of luxury...
   what with the advent of social media and dating apps...

but that's the great thing about marijuana (skunk,
it's different in England, the marijuana is illegal
and it's usually spiced with some ****** chemicals)
                                                       psychosis...

at first: oh my god, the greatest drug... i stopped drinking...
i waited for the weekend to smoke...
   i'd sit and write Beatnik ******* poetry...
listen to music... when the stuff was good...
a minute turned into ten minutes...
   ten minutes turned into thirty minutes...
thirty minutes turned into two hours...
literally: time stopped... that's how i came up with
the antonym of Descartes' res cogitans...
   i smoked and i lost my ego...
                it was nowhere to be found...
ergo? res vanus... an empty thing...
              i think it takes a lot of thinking to finally
conquer thought per se...
              to able to merely sense without that cloudy
overlay of thought / narrative has its bonuses...
right now? i have a clog in my head...
before i could tell you something akin to:
i can hear myself think...
    "hear": i was so engrossed in something resembling
solipsism... thought came before the senses...
that's why i missed so many opportunities
with women...

            also: i remember this remark i made...
i remember saying: i can't hear silence...
         guess what's in my head?
                that exact remark... it's almost as if i have
lost my prior "sense" of a soul...
i think i'm soulless... i think my soul has already
left my body... which makes it easier
to coordinate the body... i have this great silence
in my head...

   a moment also came when my vision sharpened...
i started seeing more clearly...

another thing about going mad early on...
oh i did see psychiatrists... i was put on antipsychotic
medication... i used to weigh in 78kg at one point...
6ft2 and 78kg? i was a lean colt...
i put on... over the years... let's say i weighed in
at 120kg at one point...
                   i might have drank back then...
i'm still drinking... but: to think that this sort of medication
doesn't have a metabolic effect would be delusional...

but like i must have already mentioned:
that's the good thing about going mad early on in life,
or rather with madness itself:
you can't go mad twice...
         what's that famous saying?
those whom the gods want to destroy: first drive them
mad...

   about 6 psychiatrists tried to figure me out...
one ******* tried to implant in me the idea of regression:
he insinuated that i was abused as a child...
false memory implants... sadistic little Indian ******...
why do i bring ethnicity into the equation?
oh... reminded of a novel by Will Self...
no: not the quantitative theory of insanity...
   that other one... Dr. Mukti...

                            they couldn't figure me out
yet they still prescribed this ****** medication...
           the medication was making it worse...
                             alcohol? makes it better...
       well... because by the 5th and 6th nutty-professor
i was already well verse in Nietzsche,
Kierkegaard, Heidegger and by the 6th Kant!
why would i need to talk **** over?
   none of them could help me with:
    oh you know, herr doktor... i encountered
a choir in a church that descended, invisible...
then... while in a panic... running around in the church
a great wind descended and dispersed the choir...
well... **** me... if marijuana can give you that
sort of auditory hallucinations:
     i'll wait until i'm dementia prone...
    then i'll go to Amsterdam and jack-up my brain
with some mushrooms... maybe i'll see "things" better...

come to think of it... back in the day it was what
it was... i was in so much distress but internalized it so well
that: i was 12 shadows behind a flimsy veneer...
but i pulled through: right now i think i have:
esp. since my reclusion sort of gave me a spring-like-elasticity...
i jumped back into extroversion with a snap
of the fingers... i was never an extrovert-extrovert:
those annoying *****...
i've learned to be more measured...

  but i pulled through: and not thanks to anyone
except for me... and... necromancy...
which is not some magic... just reading the works
of the people already dead...
    
another saying: music soothes even the savage beast...
tell that to one of my Maine *****...
go on... play her some punk... she's doing a runner...
she is a savage beast... domesticated...
but still savage...
     only recently she scratched the face of a baby...
the baby was: the baby of my mother's manicurist /
pedicurist...
    why did she scratch the baby's face?
     my mother's manicurist / pedicurist brought her
friend along... who in turn brought her son along...
annoying little ****: i was fermenting upstairs in bed
with a massive hang-over... just heard the annoying little
****...
                  
      ADHD+... literally...
            he kept annoying my cat... kept touching her too
"offensively"... she hissed... she started spitting evil eyes...
but he kept on annoying her...
   my mother apparently told him to stop...
the boy's mother stopped being a mother at that point...
he ****** off somewhere to draw, i don't know...
******* circles in the air... when the baby approached...
bam! scratches on the face...
    mind you: no problems prior... babies and animals
mingle quiet well... they did... i was there some other
times... but... all it takes is one silly little **** of a boy
to **** of a cat for the cat to rebel... like a predator...
on something that's weaker: weakest...
     it's a ******* cat... a bonsai tiger...
        
           that's why i never understood man's fascination
with predators, animal predators...
seems like their life just might be interesting...
translate that to predators within men...
            eh... blue oyster cult... something sort of eerie
itch by itch by the end it just becomes disgusting...
no argument: when it comes to the behaviour of cats...
the cat was in the right...
      the cat was in the right... the baby was simply collateral
damage: isn't that the common phrase in modern
warfare? collateral damage?

while Tony Blaire et al. are the ADHD+ **** of a boy
walking away scot free...
            
well... i gave the mother mother's manicurist so many
CDs to copy after i introduced her to Wooden Shjips...
she obviously has a new manicurist...
her friend was supposedly into Viking looking blokes...
but... i've recently saw a brutally honest
video by a woman, she admits to:
having nothing to offer a man... except for ***...
she's a single mum... all the women in my vicinity
are single mothers...

       and she's right... i work... i cook... i clean...
i can iron a shirt... blah blah... if i'm going to be second
best after she panders to her Rugrats...
what am i left with?
   it so much simpler with prostitutes...
although... the one i'm currently seeing sort of crossed
the mark... i think she's fallen for me...
she keeps sending me Selfies while i keep sending her
pictures of trees... flowers... cats... sunrises
and sunsets...

if i were to be stuck with someone like a Denise Royle...
oh **** that... ****: THAT...
     because i would be just that...
a push-over a comb-over...
        recently i watched a movie starring Lara Flynn Boyle...
a film from back in 2002...
   recent pictures? either Jack Nicholson
is the Spartan 300... i don't know...
                    i'm going to grace: if i get to old age...
probably less stressed out...
         like this one ****** i saw today...
the petulant husband... chocolates for the children,
wine for the honey-dubby-dubby-gum-bear...
he might: just get a sniff of the wine...
otherwise! WHIP!
              back on overtime come tomorrow's
Bank Holiday! ha-chi! whimp 'em boy!

existentialism never got along with Darwinism...
for what? my genes?! what about my "soul"?!
i rather find that than pass on some biological fuss
of a glue... someone else will pass something else
on... it's not like the human species will go extinct
because i haven't capitulated to reproductive
"needs"... being a grandfather with grandchildren
or... an old man and death's darling: euthanasia...
always the latter...
god bless the Benelux alliance: reasonable people...
benevolent people... sensible creatures...

****... i knew this was going to happen once i got stuck
into defrosting... "defrosting":
i was trying to get some ice for a whiskey pepsi
sharpshooter refill... a block of ice... no ice cubes...
take out the ice cube container hack at the block
of ice with a knife... fiddly procedure...
take some ice... put the excess ice on the shelf...
hello cleaned ice-cube container...

            i have lost the plot... i digressed too much...
i take it from my English teacher...
a Thomas Bunce... Glaswegian... loved his jazz and his
poetry... he always digressed...
he never taught us... not grammar: only on a must...
once... maybe twice... what did he used to call Shakespeare?
Shaky? Shaken Pear?
   he always digressed... he just told stories...
he wasn't a teacher... you might as well have
lit a ******* fire in the classroom and we'd all huddle
and listen to him ramble...

i've lost it... the day is almost over and i'm sitting
here drinking a whiskey and listening to...
my new found "hobby"... i.e. gothic post punk alternative
darkwave music... rubric!

i've always tried to escape the dichotomy of
the Cure vs. Depeche Mode...

the soft moon... oh... that band is a banger...
2013 release: from the album the soft moon...
songs like: circles,
                     parallels, we are we,
                                            sewer sickness...

there's still so much good music "floating" about...
it's just... so much harder to find...
it wasn't... back in 2016 when the internet still had
some sanity about it...

rubric! where's my rubric?!

the downward path - more than i should
give my remains to broadway - dumpster baby
c z a r i n a - wonderland
morosinthe - nihilism
love of consolation - memory
man + machine & emke - room to cry
ill humans - dramatica
dechakhal - always die
              ciern - the emperor rx
     grey gallows - chains
                       locust revival - no funeral
               two one six - heat
                   the isolators - concentrate on us
                house of breath - make sense of it all
q-7 three times - t-3
                       into her final sleep - heressence...

**** me, now that i come to think of it...
every single shift i worked at Fulham's Craven Cottage
whenever i was placed in Bishop's Park
with a women... i wasn't working...
i was on a first date...
we talked about each other...
Jeminah was the best... even though she kept
talking about her failed relationships...
but we walked into the cemetery and inspect the dates
on graves... my god... she looked so ****
back before she stabbed herself in the back
with rumours about me...

while... in my full view... started swiping left?
right? which one is rejection?
in front of me, indicating: you have no chance
mate... i have these many options... loser...
any of the others make their own wine?
bake? make dogs affectionate enough to lick
your wounds till you bleed and not feel
the pain?
               just saying: ******* pie in the sky!
mash potatoes floating in the lake...

what was i going to write?
   ****... i almost forgot... the day is almost over...
18 minute past midnight... time for closure...
i'm sitting with a whiskey + pepsi sharpshooter...
listening to some underground music...
thinking about trimming my ***** hair
because i need to see Khedra... girl's feeling anxious...

oh... right... i woke up nice an early... 8am...
looked at my phone... ****... no ingress pass for West Ham
vs. Arsenal... what's up?
so i text the manager... where's my ingress pass?
i'm pretty sure that i've booked myself in for this event...

text back... you haven't booked in, mate...

oh crap... crap and no crap: to be honest...
if i haven't booked in... i can't be late...
but i swear i booked in for this match...
the original date was the 28th of May...
that date was moved because West Ham progressed
in the Europa League... so Tuesday was them vs.
Frankfurt... i thought that if i booked in for
the original date of the match-up for the derby
i'd be automatically booked in for today...

while i worked Oxford on the 28th...
   it's not like i "forgot": i just wasn't messaged...
about today... ****** ******* diary keeping...
on my behalf? hardly... i woke up ready to shine...
geared up to do the shift...
arbeit macht frei is my new number one motto...
Wembley shifts... ooh... a blessing...
sometimes going above 12 hours... or thereabouts...

can't you squeeze me in?
   just in case someone blows-out?
  
no... sorry mate... can't print your accreditation
on a whim...
  
   but i already texted him saying: i know what NO
means... fair enough...

****... a whole day to myself... what the hell am i going
to do?!
    i ask dearest... what's for dinner?!
roast beef... ugh... not that crap...
no no... i love roast beef... when it's done proper...
done medium rare in the middle...
but...

    i've mentioned this before...
this recipe... it's a Turkish recipe...
i never thought that beef could be so well coupled
with rosemary... eye-opening...
you'd think on lamb goes with rosemary...
no... beef works just as well... if not better...
i guess the use of rosemary is a way to get
rid of lamb stink... why oh why lamb is sacred
to the Nomads while... pork... the most...
scentless meat in town is given so much
critique: didn't "god" create pork?!
why would god despise anything he created?!
it's counter intuitive...
and i once thought that the Welsh were
sheep *******... no... the Arabs and Muslims
in general have that award covered...
ugly... stinking meat...
  sheep... IT... STINKS!

                        at least pork doesn't... LAMB: STINKS!
maybe that's why their cuisine requires so many
spices... they need to drown the stench of lamb...
pork on the other hand? pristine chops...

tried rosemary: made it worse...
but i like rosemary... as much as i like thyme...
thyme and chicken...
but you wouldn't expect beef to be coupled
with beef...

           this recipe though... oh you know...
some Turkish cook... REFIKA...
hammered beef:

400 gr beef fillet steak
4 cloves of garlic, peeled
2 sprigs of rosemary
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
4 tablespoons olive oil
200 gr kolot - mild cheddar is better
2 dried hot chilli peppers
1 tsp of Korean chilly flakes
1 teaspoon black peppercorns (whole)
1 teaspoon sea salt

i woke up and... gaining knowledge that i wasn't
going to do the West Ham shift...
there's much better things to do with a cut of beef
than merely butcher it a second time via
a roast... ugh... roast vegetables and roast
potatoes... such an European "thing"...

wait a tick... i haven't done my 60km+
       bicycles sessions in a while...
                        want to see the Houses of Parliament
on the 1st of May?!
****... why not... via the usual route... past Forest Gate...
past Stratford... down Regents Street...
past Trafalgar Sq.? back past the... it was hide tide...
the Thames is not a river! it's an overstretched lake!
what river has a tide-in and a tide-out?!
it's not a river... unless: all rivers are like this on
an island! the Thames doesn't have a flow!
it... bubbles... it's an irritated piece of water!
it's not a river!

on purpose... i shoved down those black intestines
with barley and bacon and onions for breakfast...
with some rye bread...
ironed some bed sheets, t-shirts and a shirt...
and my work trousers...

it's best to count within the confines of 0s...
after all... a person's wealth is not measured impirically...
British Empire bound...
can you translate 6 billion in... what would be
the weight of geld... back then?

i'm done with post punk alternative music....
i'm coming back to the altar of Germanic Crusader
songs... Palästinalied...
i hear the music... i turn to proud airs..
mein gott: ich auch haben ein gesichichte!

jetzt?! alles ist bergwerk!

i am yet to eat a more łakomą feast!
a more greedy feast!
  
LAMB STINKS... perfect match up between
the Muslims and the Velsh...
perfecto! plush! mush! plush! mhuah!
finger-licking good!

why? why my disapproval?!
some elder ****- spitting on "my" pavement...
i don't like that...
disrespect the road others have to walk on...
sure... perhaprs in Pakistan you have
******* donkeys to grind a road to apply
to your obedience... by the stammer
of a donkey's hoofs...
over here... du brauchen asphalt...
    you goat loving spitting camel jockey
of a ****-...
                                     what?!

tomorrow's tired... let's have it... right now!
you ******* nonces....
you ******* fading chocolate copper-necks...
pseudo-predators...

i woke up with this great feeling of cycling for 60+ kms...
i did...
i stopped like a Dervish taking a brake...
at a shop that sold...
Turkish bread... packaged from...
the AL-BAHIJ bakery... somewhere...
near Wembley...
       it's not Naan ******* curry type of Jaapati
type of ****...
wholesome...
      
   i tell you... 60km+ backwards and forwards...
a meal like this will make you greedy...
beef + rosemary...
there's actually a difference between
freshly ground black pepper and readily
available ground pepper...
crushed rosemary... another "case" to implode...

unser liebe fraue...
    von kalten bronnen...
    bescher uns armen landsknecht...
   eine warme sonnen!

die trommeln! die trommeln!
               lälarm! lälarm! lälarm!

           alles güt, ja? wenn ein ist deutsche...
nein?!
   dann ist: partei-zeit!
        gütfühlen!
       ficken du: Hessen-Schwäbisch:
   schweinefleischislamischliebhaber-seltsam...
like.... wie... du was?"

oh man... that Turkish hammered beef...
with the red onion Sumac salad...
with the Sumac... with the red chilly flakes...
with the rosemary... the garlic...
the sea salt... the fresh real, whole... peppercorns...
U-BOATS man! Zeppelins!
               olive oil... lemon juice... pomegranate molasses!

hmm... i stopped over between Forrest Gate and Ilford
at this Turkish supermarket...
it wasn't the usual take on Lavash bread...
but it wasn't a ***(p)at(t)i either...
    the bakery? Al-Bahij... NW10... Miverva Rd...
  
i'm greedy for this dish... i'm always greedy for this dish...
do 60+km on a bicycle: you too would be...
you too would relax listening to Germanic
war songs...
            because... there's nothing better to listen
to when you're that much pumped up...
         nichtsenglischgesprochen!
nichtsenglischgesprochen!
         zu vergessenheit wir märz mit herz!
mit spatzen zum die nur schar!
                               unser: hohl von diese gräber!
Alice Sep 2017
Fondness of looks
Panders lust

Lust dreams of love

Whereas, love;
Love is content.
Carlo C Gomez Aug 2020
Captain
Is such an abrasive term
Call me zebra instead
Call me every other weekend
Salute the system
Or form a mutiny
As disciples of Moby ****
Just be sure rank and file
Are futile

Everything now is beautiful

Rainbirds
Caged in your barbed-wire heart
Jaded feather friends
In migration
Tasting shapes
And drawing blood
From artistic wings
As freedom of flyway must
Still belong to the rule

Everything now is beautiful

Hopscotch
On sorted sidewalks
Ride the escalator instead
Up one floor
To the mezzanine
That panders to
The perversions of quiet girls
Innocence outshines
Experience
When the hemisphere is
Short on lifeboats
And late for school

Everything now is beautiful

The missing world
Beneath our feet
Is what the ocean
Tells us about ourselves
"From swerve of shore
To bend of bay"
Check the notes
In the margin
Postcards and maps
Depicting these dazzle ships
And the angry waters
They chart
Are always of
Skinny-dipping
Sea vessels
Her mons and ponds
Face-up
And full frontal

Everything now is beautiful

Dove taking
Swan keeping
We've power against dreams
We've articles of war
So this line is expendable
An anguish languish
Deep deep down
Turning with the wave
Against the sound
Where we sailed on from one love
To find another
As usual

Omnes una manet nox
(One night is awaiting us all)
Run
‘Look around,

Where are you?’

I can’t remember, I ran too far away

In hope of something true



This place

It is bright

It is calm, it is comfort

It panders to those in plight



I shall stay here

For a while, maybe evermore

I am now new

Purity to adore



The sun sets

I remember in pain

And go back to reality

Home again
escape run way leave come back home
Kurt Philip Behm Oct 2018
The Emperor walks naked
  past eyes fully cloned

To his subjects he panders
  his pride for a throne

His strut his true signature
  exposure supreme

Your opinion no matter
  —he colors you green

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2014)
A W Bullen Aug 2018
There is regret for the gradual entrapment and brainwashing of the human spirit, via lives of quiet servitude.
There is shame, the recognition of
potential diminished and unrealised, trained and drained for consumerism which is sold as the illusion of happiness ..filling our spaces with needless clutter, shrinking the borders of
individual thought...that last bastion of freedom and the well spring of change.
We are profiled, labelled and categorized, predictable and easily manipulated by systems that govern.

I feel this when the wind blows from certain quarters.
and when the curtain is briefly lifted, and we can look out toward the deep mysteries of space,
I recall the "Earthrise" photograph from the Apollo 8 mission and, still, after all these years find it profoundly moving..." Beautiful" is a far too lesser word to describe it.
It truly is a breath- stealing image...and it's our home.
And what have we done with it?
We over- populate, fly our flags, bang our drums, peddle our religions, burn our forests, pollute our seas eradicate species with impunity,...how, on Earth are we evolving?
We have such possibility yet have traded it all in for a business model with drivers of profit and greed.
and where are the indigenous peoples? ..the, recognized wiser custodians of the planet?
Subsumed or displaced,..turfed off their lands( that also happen to be rich in mineral deposits or ripe for development) largely unmentioned and forgotten.....and yet i cannot help thinking that these are the apex of our species with regards to their understanding of the value of our habitat....their insights far more sustainable and rooted than the bilious reach of our ****** little empires.
What could they have taught us if only we cared to listen....to really listen....
We have lost our sense of wonder, of symbiosis, of reverence...we take our place for granted..not as something extraordinary to be treasured

What is our collective aim?
And is there a " collective"...After all, a communal philosophy that proffers an alternative could prove difficult to subdue, far better the divide and conquer strategy that panders to the subtle edges of an avarice, that becomes our modern way.
While we bury our head in the sands of social media baying for loves and likes, we are drip-fed endless propaganda and advertising..
Outside our window there is a green unpleasant land sprayed with herbicide, insecticide, devoid of natural diversity by the sweep of our constant chemicals..
Where now , the fresh air ?

The curtain falls and I’m back in my day job, paying over the odds , but grateful of income...enough to get by..i have sorted the bills and might treat myself to a couple of t- shirts i have seen in the sale- (less than half price- you cant beat a good bargain) ….Will have a few beers while watching the game and cheer on my team...there is a chance of silverware this season....
I am suitably anaesthetized and gently returned to my conformity.
It seems easier this way....


This isn’t the search for some utopian cloud- kingdom, more of a quest for a balance of sorts.
I do not consider myself hard done by...I am more fortunate than many and will always place laughter above tears
But I am of an island race encircled by powerful waters....as they appear to protect, then so do they threaten...

I have no manifesto,...I am the product of my age...and I sleepwalk through this gift of life , but as i sleep so too i sometimes dream
dream of a pathway through and out beyond the high rise, over the weather- won tides, that leads to somewhere different, somewhere we have never been...
A friend asked me to explain "Remorse Code", so I have given it a go-and so I can remember it too!
Graff1980 Dec 2018
White haired head
leans in
to his hands
to hide the tears
that threaten
to swallow
the last bits
of his resilience.

An American tragedy
all those families
crying out loud,
what a shame
for America the proud.

An anti-Semite
takes another life
tonight.

Another,
skin head,

another
neo ****,

and the president
panders to them
with hidden
nods to
the ideas
they salute.

Makes me
want to puke,
or drop from a plane
with no parachute
because these dudes
have no compassion,
and smashing
my body into the
form of a pancake
might make
people take
Natsel Sep 2016
Dog Days of U.S. Politics


Our dog days of pols and pundits are here
Like pathogens thriving without antidote
Or insects immune to every repellent
They adapt and survive; their goal is your vote.

Twenty-four/seven they're on the attack
Inventing solutions with simple sound bites
Then eager reporters with blow-dried ambition
Primp, and turn fiction to fact overnight.

"Democracy" poisoned by anonymous donors
Congress panders to a privileged few
Their money controls and dictates the fate
Of pols who have pledged to represent you.

The U.S. readily chastises others
Advising and preaching democracy
While our congress is bought and sold on a scale
That is laughable for its hypocrisy.

So political ads infested your home
You call EPA who deal with pollution:
"Please dispose of these, sir, I am sick of the lies."
"An infection of Broadcast Toxins," he sighs,

"For which we have no solution."
Julian Oct 20
(The latter paragraphs are more persuasive than the introductory one)

Clinched by the cloture of clinkstone nebels exhorted the kerygma to truckle nebulizing egintoch nepionic nevosities once pristine now reformed by aggiornamento nidamental to furor and favor against bisontine imaginative byre by the bobstays of badigeon steeving inclemency sequacious to tantony shabracking incontinence (delegating the shakuhachi of fairer brocades for chiffon simity jaded by permissive recidivism) by pushful skalding spurriers bracing for thalassic ucalegon in abthane absterged amende dire to notitia umbels of ultraism isorithmic lest the echard immanent and prevenient over egelidated soteriology florid and variegated in the elutriation of apodictic truth (rather than crumpled deadwood davenport emotivism) that bewilders emys of lost dirigisme foundering in enthymemes against stalwart erotesis of the maieutic ambit and dominion designated for plebania above the naves skeldering for merciful pontiffs to engage the nembutsu windlass around the hadal novantique (established by hamarchy now regnant abroach of elastane prerogatives) eleutherian in nimble recourse. Sociodynamic abscissae prone to abuna trouncing conscientious acapnotic deployment of moral agastopia ahimsa predicated on soteriology renewed despite the akinesia of precedent and the alameda concatenations of tacenda hinged to ameplography wed to sophistries of psephology designated by psaphonic priority ignorant of the proairesis of liberty vouchsafed by anamorphic noogenesis abetted by sleek balustrades of anbury among assorted desmans thwarting detraque in favor of didascalic diremption of baldfaced balbriggan secularism into culminated quatorzain apotheosis regnant in supernal amaranthine energism hybridized with quietism factive to elect ratiocination even when bereaved of common lionization.

Jawhole fairleads of oppositive causes fantigued in the throes of despotism often invoke festination over fissicostation flagitated primordial flenched titrations of frith betrothed to lambrequin lurdan prisoptometry negligent of lineolated limpkins because the brunt of zaftig bronteums transmogrifies zappy junctures into zarzuela plenary because the zayat is just too hinnable in moral brehon to bend their mettle to hods holobenthic in deontology who champion hopsack qasida emphatic in qawwali derricking a deft future for the industrious dobhash of entelechy of broadened dromonds versed in opodeldoc gilded with olivaster onagers (obsequent to insidious oblations of wokism) ixiodic with newfangled irriguous bonanza rather than iopterous conflagrations of dholes indigned in inaniloquent apyrexy. The paragon for civic moralism is arrayed in a matrix of appurtenances apotropaic in sedated throes of stalwart interpunction in idoneous subservience to vulcanized mackintoshes pegged to aleatory nimonic stridulation, bolted in bedrock faith and thriving with idiochromatic genius umbrilizing hippiatric doomsters (hinnable only in specious zuche alloquy of zayat) and foiling farcical ichnology with transcendent sophianic nidor nidamental to sophrosyne spiritualism allodic to trifling secular strife histing godless hoggasters against integral hodiernal homologation.

The hordeiform consensus defalcates hotchpot zendik zenana zabaglione of scripted lycnoscopes of lycanthropy stipulated by their compital nomogeny often lorikeeting mutual laevoduction despite lapatic overhangs of scruple frowning at lazaret frostworks of drygulched fourgon forcipation of desiccated flysch falsidical brinkmanship of specious standpipes masquerading as salvation but only amounting to the **** of stulms against stanjant in sybotic quatsch quademed to profligacy despite frustraneous defaulting inertia of supercilious protanopia repugnant to our best collective enterprises. Orrery orguinnet oryx is mesothermic to osnaburg bootstraps in the overlock of hamstrung ekistics sunken by irrevocable organdie because emphatic empasm less hobbled by multicultural enallage scacchic with enthalpy gradgrinded through gingerly haqueton abducent to fondink dowitchers (whom droshky appoints preeminent) fixating on constellated faculae just to feague around with fontinal ochlesis of powellization freeboarding on deliberate dilapidation of laches laystalling crambos connumerated in tenure of the ulterior congelation of collimated pataphysics bankrolling insatiable cementum cambering with jagged jacquard bonanza for the thickets of constringed monolithic diaspora callow in coordination juddering ancillary skirmishes of boondoggle to bunting fanfare in the jubbah of aleatory jinks. The immarcesible imparidigitate ormolu quaky lest eupsychics and eurhythmics devolve into hamerkop evulsions of abaft nidor of olid aboulia in stark acropathy mandated by ulterior acyesis they fear diminishing returns of wretched adrogation tag-teamed by gammerstangs of barmcloth jarveys of jasperated emasculation aduncating cultural redundancy in the narrowcasted affiance of hamshackled aftergame cobaltiferous in aggerose vengeance against stanjant and lavolta so steep in alembication that pedestrian andragogy must drail isallobar inculcating isobath as sequacious simplicity becomes the byword of the balbriggan flautino to denature (after toiling decades in isopach verisimilitudes of slugabed fysigunkus isostasy) in the most contrary ways to ithomiid nationalism such that we resort to oriflamme conflagrations of ludic phlegmatic osmol into ****** cacotopia.

****** kymatology in the windlass of obtuse tympanies sculpted of pergola parabolaster pomace klendusic to vagary kirking the testudo bellwethers misyoked to godless mofette trutinates the nimble reedbucks pliant to oscitation equipped eagre to ecdysiast stampedes toward eclaircise because of manufactured wantage jaleos and jarabes among the ghawazis handspike repentantly for habanera pupating into moral fullness and divine nimiety isangelous in proxemic sympatric plerophory in revolutionary phoniatrics aggiornamentos vitative to every twiring turtleback taffrail may the volplane of revelation become a virgation and a vastation against rheotaxis vendible as cascading vecordy dismantled by compital grace convolved with evolved kerygma nacreous as synclastic destiny beneficiating oikonisus and holobenthic communion never a bergamask pretense for opaque scofflaw bedaggle baize nympholepsy outlasts. Allemande iceblinks of verglas saccadic idiorhythmic illaqueating implodent mortmains imbruting thorny thickets of impedimenta for expedient skullduggery coempted by blackmasters gridlocked in ineradicable jamdani often postulate in unstercorated tirades the tentation of indehiscence and the inferiae vaccimulgent in retroactive disgust by throttling ingluvies to traffic isanemone contingent on obeluses halyarding wellaway welkins of whelky crutched on alamode abasia divorced from the veteran paradigm of albescent androlepsia supplanted by annectant wellsprings of dodecafid digladiated bangtail footholds of backstay vestige transmogrified into footling forcipation vaunting cultural enallage lagotically optimized into incorrigible and ingravescent hawsehole highbinder rigmarole hindermated often by eximious sedigitation because of epiphenomenal cnicnodes many hotchpots bury in anachoric huggeries of adoptive dedans tasked with the demurrage of akinesia friendly to dentirostral vogues ever pinguefied by wanigans of wapentake by lucrative woodreeves of bobstaying at all cost.

The woonerf of nimonic stridulation calipacing casefied bickerns of sunbittern stanhope sumpters of monolithic harvested indigent outrage solfatara engenders as cathexis to naïve sondation for spodomancy of restive cladogenesis ironmaster vastation of chiffon brocades of rumchunder rhubarbs of smug cultural isanther and pathetic icterical tomfoolery of bonces of isochrone mugience projicient to glochidate presbyophrenia beziqued by briquets and berceuse mockado canque inert in yawny torporific mazut endeavors of virulent mithridatism only demassified to the recherche limitrophes of perspicacity. The afterclap of uxorious tephra mowing tamburitza grampus of gossypine vernalization of vaccimulgent minnesinger singults sintering crepitated jacana jerkinheads cuculine in scaffmaster voltinism simultaneous to vorticism is the impetus of neutrosophy chockablock with allantoid bosky stulms and stannaries replete with ivorride brackling with whorling sastruga rife with scissures seahogging finite notoriety in headlong skintles convenient to chatelaines of mazopathia aggrieved of atocia hedged in thick jawhole quagmires of skiving snallygaster vigor (the protectorate of stalwart strahl of quotidian industry of both striga and stritch in subtended immunifacience) the progenitor of indomitable suretyship swanskin undinism rackrent in dentagra yet redeemed by resurgent soteriology. In conclusion, among both chlamydate springhares and termagant gammerstangs (both monolithic iceblink orguinette abusers of oriel or oryx) one panders oxter oriflamme trapezes above varsal sterility and the other enlists the camber of architectonic bontbokian pergolas of invidious wrox subservient to widespread epilation and imperious squamation are neither the answers nor the questions mandated by this zeitgeist but (sadly) inevitably supined by the eyeservice of modern neutrosophy. We must handspike, therefore, the springboks through the acequia of nomogeny cooperative with quokkas, vangermytes, jordans, britskas and the grognards never mercenary in their heroic devotions to acipenser acropodia acuminating moral integrity to bypass adiathermancy to institute aerophane eunomia aimed at aeviternity agentive in amberjacking moral virtues from the florilegium for aggiornamento and scrupulous revival of nomothetic noogenesis pliant to persuasive ideogeny forever tantalized (even in elflock) to broaden saffron horizons and vouchsafe prosperity and equity for aborning generations predicated on aboriginal compassions.  

Addendum: With gingerly caution, I exhort anyone to read this keeping in mind that my loose figurative language could be misconstrued as menacing, militant, disrespectful or otherwise disheveled and levies no obligation upon the readership. It is an exegesis of many deep arcane truths and constative hypotheses that should be treated with latitude rather than bartered by counterfeit means to miscegenate nolitions mandating the steepest compurgation and bowdlerization of the thickets of tartarology wagering spiritual warfare against the righteous throne of demassified sophrosyne wisdom persevering beyond the thickets of boschveldt schadenfreude that compital degringolade yeuks for so insistently in rabid compagination commorient with evanescent fables destined to die in the aceldama of conscience over the brehon of moral indigence contrahent to the prerogatives of God himself my vindicator and champion who defeats the bronteum of satanic prestidigitation by vanquishing an honest oversight tethered to a marginal maeiutic clairvoyance misleading in maladroit collimations radically spayed by polyphiloprogenitive cofferdams from the dominion and domain of the righteous and the snares and wickedness of false scales of rabid codswallop cackling for a moment only to be snuffed benighted and forever cast into the deepest barathrum of oblivion. God is my vindicator and my champion and my most earnest ambitions staked on love and fortune remain preeminent in every consideration of soldiered entelechy vanguarded by peremptory cloture in spiritual warfare against petty pettifoggery of jagged cisvestism forever defeated.
Andrew Rueter Oct 2018
Fasten your seatbelts
For the ice the heat melts
Will be dealt
We’ll receive welts
From Earth’s belt
Her pain will be felt

Crazy cancer
Lazy dancers
Don’t have answers
But as enchanters
Conjure banter
Of absurd slander
And crowd panders
To darken lanterns

Flooding the gate
Money to make
Muddies the stakes
So they act fake
To catch a break
Becoming snakes
With stunning rakes
For nature’s ****

Carbon emission
Cancer remission
In need of incisions
To heal our decisions
Yet denied permission
By a wealthy commission
Utilizing superstition
And pure fiction
To ensure friction
Fueling oil addiction

The hurricanes
Assuring pain
Are curing stains
Of carbon shame
Until what remains
Stays in nature’s lane

I hide in dreams
From Poseidon’s screams
At polluted streams
From brutish teams
Of the crudest greed

To break our code of mourning
We need the noble forming
A case for global warming
Against the vocal storming
Of the slogan storing
***** adoring
Public scorning

We need Atlas here
To fix the atmosphere
As those here
Impose fear
Against peers

Their success equals destruction
So acting responsibly is obstruction
Pushing the planet to an eruption
Of cataclysmic disruption
Due to cynical dysfunction

A tidal wave
Of vital days
To fix our maze
Sits in a haze
While we’re slaves
Digging graves
For the brave
In their way
Kurt Philip Behm Nov 2016
The Emperor walks naked,
with eyes all alone

To his subjects he panders,
his pride for a throne

His strut his true signature,
exposure supreme

Your opinion of no matter,
—as he colors you green

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2014)
Denis Barter Feb 2018
I’ve tried Haiku - what a tricky “to do:”
Then there’s Tanka: this I’ll likely eschew.
Cinquain though another different form
Is to this poor poet, more true to norm,
And better suited to my proclivity!

Though Blank or Free Verse; even Prose,
Possesses an appeal: it’s a different pose.
Though it allows freedom of expression:
It’s not for me. Rhyming, is my obsession,
Suits me better; panders to my creativity.

So many genres, some of which I’ve tried:
But all too often, my over excited Muse, died;
Left struggling with a message, still unsaid.
Shortly thereafter find all inspiration dead.
Not the best way to ensure productivity!

So Tanka, Cinquain, Haiku or whatever?
It surely takes someone smart and clever
To emulate the Japanese.  Those wily men,
Who write their poetry with brush - not pen,
Yet retain their sense of rational relativity!

Rhymer February 4th, 2018
Jim Mar 2019
Fantasy is dragons, it's magic and mystery
Heroes in armor, evil and infamy
It captures your intrigue and panders to dreamers
tales of black sheep, fools, misfits and schemers

Where did it come from? We wrote it all down
Thought of some fiction like King Arthur's crown
Mermaids and ogres set on some quest
A kidnapped princess, a witch in the west

It's much more fun than the real world around us
That's missing that wonder and absent of fairy dust
Though there is a place in our world where fantasy's seen
A conjuring of tall tales.. what we call dreams

Imagination's truly at the root of it all
Like how a pumpkin could carriage a maid to a ball
Or rainbows can lead to a cauldron of gold
And a man can favor by selling his soul

There's all sorts of crazy drempt up nonsense
You,ve heard of small elves who make Christmas presents
How absurd is that, who could have thought it up
And the nothing compared to the Tri-wizards cup

Give it a try for yourself some time
Think of a story or something sublime
A wicked beast or a mystic spirit
And whatever you end up with.. I want to hear it.
KorbydAngyle Aug 2021
Skiff and Skaff the bleak  stitch has a sum of the all grey that surrounds

Under undulations and foibles from the skies lands the ground

Inside scatters of polished brandished leather the undertones panders  escape & the land


Yuletide, resonance of spring, flowers blusters and storms, wicken,  lightening and rains that sing

All of this can be found, strength of the tales tall, trunks affirming, braches exfoliate, solid girth from the earth's own

Enduring

Together with nature, all and I, if even a grey sky
Find the bark of all creations blunt - accessional not frail
Nor shy, nor the less...  of the spirit in you and I!
this is from a poetry forum that poses... make an idea from the picture presented (it was a grey tree trunk)
David R May 2021
"** ** **", said the gruff he-goat,
nodding his beard and shaking his coat,
as he playfully kicked at his little kids,
his admiring doe batting her lids

"look at me", cried the peacock in glee,
as he fanned his feathers for all to see,
gave a little run to the hen opposite
with a shake of his tail, his train composite

"I am the greatest", boasted the ape,
pounding his chest 'neath woodland cape,
informing the missus who was the boss,
who's the alpha, who not to cross.

is it woman alone of all creation
who rules her roost with subjugation
that all men quiver at the turn of her nose
at her meandering moods, her highs, her lows?

more than man, she panders to fashion,
to drive her mate to love and to passion,
why are the rules here in reverse
different from the rest of the universe?

the brown female of blackbird genus
is more than happy with mate's dominus,
the moorhen brown of drab feather 'n plume
is quite content to sit in the gloom

why then does the human lady of the house
turn bumbershoot inside out
in all ways proclaim charge of her spouse
with guile or smile or rant or pout?
BLT's Merriam-Webster Word of The Day Challenge
Searching in the distance
For a sign or subtle clue
This mermaid panders outwardly
Seeking out her proof
The existence of a two legged man
Or so the tales been told
A story she’s heard for years and years
Since she was three years old
Graff1980 Jul 2021
They want to rehabilitate
the image that people hate.
Instead, of trying to change
their bad behavior
they distort and overstate,
debate just to aggravate
and obstruct you from trying to
relate real facts to take
and share the uncomfortable truths.

Grand standing
while demanding
we hand them everything.

They are ****** villains
like cult commanders
who panders
to worse leaders.
B E Cults Nov 2020
bodhisattva,
hotbox a square in the lobby
of every hotel at once.
la di ******* da.
"try to stop me" is written in
the auric field,
Lorca in front of the firing squad.
of course it's **** or be built better
by anybody else afterwards.
bet.
i cash checks from the cancer-verse,
dead to whatever panders
to a standard first.
push me out this ******* window.
please.
i need to touch earth urgently.
I need to simplify all of this
balled fist twist and turn ****
burning around me.
don't listen to me.
i'm howling at the moon in my memory.
i'm not new to the entropy.

you know this though.
you know this.

— The End —