"patents" poems
Run, Gemini child
And run fast
For tragedy is hounding
You in the guise
Of glory
And billing you
For excesses uncontrolled
The end is drawing near….
Though you have no fear,
Must you also have no shame?
Hide, Gemini child
And hide yourself well
Hold still, unmoving
Drop out of sight
And out of mind
For the consequences
Have exacted from you
A high price to pay
A form of revenge
Festering in your unkempt spirit
How could you live
As you have allowed yourself
To lead?
Destroy not your soul
For materials that put their
Patents on you…
Must you go so low?
Can you never go slow?
Downwards is a long
And empty route
It was not the road
That the heavens had
Destined you to take
Though it be the one
You will never, ever forsake…
Be kind dear Gemini child
And go down alone
If you think that you must
Your looks might be lasting
But your heart remains wanting
Let other people move on
And share not
This unnecessary pain
Let time be the judge
Nor excuses be made
For your living the fullest
Through irreverent ways….
Curse of the seasons
Child of the star
Rest but your head
On a pillow of stone
Walls that constrict
From maggots insist
Anaesthetize all emotions
That plagued you in life…
Meet me at Forest Lawn
Where to you I will sing
To wipe all your tears
And sunflowers bring
Moodust on my pocket
And one for the road
Dear Gemini child
Running from cold
Kiss to the fate
All the prophets fortold
Dear Gemini child
So beautiful and so bold
Mine is a love
That time can not fold
Depicted in stories
That shall never be told…
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 6:47 AM UTC
Run, Gemini child
And run fast
For tragedy is hounding
You in the guise
Of glory
And billing you
For excesses uncontrolled
The end is drawing near….
Though you have no fear,
Must you also have no shame?
Hide, Gemini child
And hide yourself well
Hold still, unmoving
Drop out of sight
And out of mind
For the consequences
Have exacted from you
A high price to pay
A form of revenge
Festering in your unkempt spirit
How could you live
As you have allowed yourself
To lead?
Destroy not your soul
For materials that put their
Patents on you…
Must you go so low?
Can you never go slow?
Downwards is a long
And empty route
It was not the road
That the heavens had
Destined you to take
Though it be the one
You will never, ever forsake…
Be kind dear Gemini child
And go down alone
If you think that you must
Your looks might be lasting
But your heart remains wanting
Let other people move on
And share not
This unnecessary pain
Let time be the judge
Nor excuses be made
For your living the fullest
Through irreverent ways….
Curse of the seasons
Child of the star
Rest but your head
On a pillow of stone
Walls that constrict
From maggots insist
Anaesthetize all emotions
That plagued you in life…
Meet me at Forest Lawn
Where to you I will sing
To wipe all your tears
And sunflowers bring
Moodust on my pocket
And one for the road
Dear Gemini child
Running from cold
Kiss to the fate
All the prophets fortold
Dear Gemini child
So beautiful and so bold
Mine is a love
That time can not fold
Depicted in stories
That shall never be told…
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 6:27 AM UTC
we both work in the postal service
but neither one of us
has ever sent a single love letter
maybe it's the drill of the job
maybe its the grind of the machines
or the clack of the keyboards
grind turns to a drone
and i look around to what we thought
were industrialized patents
were actually what we had once considered our friends
was that where they disappeared to?
instead of quitting the dead end
i had assumed too fearful to follow the leap
they hid away in mail bins and P.O. boxes
i thought i was alone
maybe i was
maybe they really did leave
their souls gone
with empty shells of bodies
remnants of what once was
yes
i am still alone
those who i knew have fled the building
in search of a more meaningful existence
winding in up in god knows where
anywhere but here
these gluttonous pantomimes only accept hopefuls
midlife crises who leap
at the opportunity for promotion
like increasing payroll would reduce their age
same as the twenty five year old liberal art grads who need a filler
to help pay rent while they work
on what will collectively become hundreds of thousands of volumes unpublished
here i stand
twenty eight years old
and strip off my badge
as it falls to the floor
i walk out the door
say hello to the next boarding train
(last stop your hometown)
and goodbye to the dead end road.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC
Alone:
It began when she moved to a small town. She was not the town's normal girl. She was different. Her skin tone, her voice, her eyes. She played suddenly, walked differently. She could and would never fit in.
She went to the school where she was made fun of. It was tolerable at first when she was younger. Buy as she got older it got worse. The one person who would stand up for her left. He left her to the torments and the teasing.
Soon all they did was relentlessly make fun of her. Push her buttons. They could not see what they were doing to her. They were destroying her. Her love for school turned dread. She would have to face their voices as they called out hatred, mock and scorn. She would dread seeing or talking to them.
The little things grew as she kept them to herself. They started small, inconspicuous. Then the grew. They grew bigger and bigger. Deeper and deeper till they became the center of her universe.
She would put on a fake smile everyday the real on had been gone for some time. Her love of school had faded some time ago, but now her love of life was like the faint flickering of a dying candle. She would talk to no one unless talked to. She ignored their looks and comments, but their whispers were heard like shouts to her.
Finally one day they pushed her over the edge. Three simple words. Three words that don't mean much to anyone else but to her, those where the words that finally broke her.
She went home that night knowing it would be her last. She was done with life. She had played their game and she was tired now. She was tired and she wanted out. She left no expiation. Just a short note saying that she was sorry.
A single gun shot rang out into the quiet night. Her patents came home later that night calling to her. She gave no answer because she was gone. Rushing upstairs her parents found her body.
Her mother collapsed. Her father broke. Her family that loved her mourned for her. Those who taunted her and teased her finally realized their wrong but it was to late. The damage was done. She was gone.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC
Patterned patents of black and white,
Stripes in vertical lines, swirls encircled
One point view and paths within a maze
Weary of single sided mirrored reality?
Look through my eyes, see elongated pupil
Let me be your mirror of a surreal reality
Where birds squint and fleet, feel and squeeze
Catch the breath and inhale the beauty
See the colored landscape of the universe
Walk on the aisles lighted with magnificence
Float in intermittent dimensional zones
Touch the peace within the chaotic world
For there was a time my mind and logic raced
Crazed with fear and delusional love cages
Fade in the wonder, bounce to enlightment
Pounce to freedom, be the wave of the essence
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 12:01 PM UTC
Now.....
When It Comes To How I Think...
I’m Just A... REALIST...
So Don’t Deal In Fallacies...
I’m Real Like... REALITY... !!!
So Reality’s What Feeds...
My Use of Poetry...
That’s Born From Big V..
Or Yes That’s Right Big Virge...
A True Word Connoisseur...
of... REALITY Verse... !!!
And Truthful Spoken Words...
That REJECTS The... Absurd...
And Unlearns What’s Been Learned...
That Makes Some Humans Turn...
Into People Who Hurt...
As If... It Is Their Work...
To Deal In What’s Fake...
Instead of What’s Real...
And Embrace Things Like Hate...
Like It’s Some Tasty Meal... ?!?
Like What Is These Folks Deal...
Are These People For Real... ?!?
You See I’m Just A REALIST...
Whose Poetic Thesis...
Believes That MORE TRUTH …
Will Be What Is Good...
For Us All To Improve...
Our Unbalanced New Groove...
Which Is Why When I Move...
I’m Aware That My Hue...
Is Too Dark For Some Crews...
So Always Stay Attuned...
For Those Quick To Hate...
Who Start To Make Claims...
That I’m In The WRONG Place...
Just Because of My Race...
Natty Hair And Dark Face... !!!
I’m Just A... REALIST...
When It Comes To Such Things...
Like Why My Writing Talents...
And... Poetic Patents...
Are Not What The Masses...
Are Talked Into Having...
By Those In The Business...
Who Claim To Want Realness...
You See I’m Just A Realist...
So Yes Do Catch Feelings...
When It Comes To Women...
And Seeing Our Children...
Taught To Use Thinking...
Logic And Visions...
To REJECT Divisions... !!!
But I’m... Just A REALIST...
Who Prefers... REALISM... !!!
And Sees That These Isms’...
And Divisive Prisons....
In Which Most Are Living...
Are Indeed UNFORGIVING... !!!
And Have Been... Since Systems...
Have Been Money Driven... !!!
Realism In View...
Like This Corona Flu...
Is Fuelling Conditions...
Mandating Positions...
For Working Transitions...
But Certain Restrictions...
Are NOT Yet Forbidden...
Like Seeing Racism...
On Our Televisions... !?!
That SHOULD BE But ISN’T... !!!
How Much Realism’s...
BEHIND These Petitions...
To Stop Racist Killings... ?!?
Well Here’s My Opinion...
And I’ll Keep It SIMPLE... !!!
If Governments Want...
Racism Extinguished...
When A Male Is Convicted...
of A... RACIST Act... !!!
Cut Off His Nut Sack...
And Keep Him Imprisoned...
And For These Racist Women...
DENIAL of Children...
And NO CONTACT With Them...
And NO BAIL Conditions...
Just LIFE In A Prison...
Where Blacks Are In Vision... !!!
Then Racists Might DIE QUICK...
Or Might Just Start To QUIT...
Acting Like Foolish Kids... !?!
So You See How I Think...
Deals In Being HONEST...
NOT Resorting To Tricks...
Nonsense Or Falseness... !!!
My Poetic Scripts...
And Lyrical Twists...
Simply Represent THIS...
When It Comes To Our Lives...
And How We... Co-Exist...
... “ I’m Just A Realist “...
Sep 27, 2021
Sep 27, 2021 at 10:16 PM UTC
You think you found me
But it was I who found you
I was here from the beginning, you see
I was here all along
The world, my tune
The universe, my song
Sticks and stones, I created them all
From the wheel to the Great Wall
As old as time, I am
Long before Babylon
I've seen it rise
I've seen it fall
I was the foundation after all
From kings to philosophers and poets of old
I immortalized them
Made them more precious than silver and gold
Papers and pens were all it took
And words, ah, most importantly the words
And forever they live in history books
I am one, and I am all
Yet you dare have me exclusively
And chain me in patents of my own laws
Oh, the greed of man shall be his downfall
What is money? What is fame?
Such things won't last, what a shame
Insolent man,
Let go of desire in things you see
For once, just for once, listen to me
Hear me knock at the door of your mind
An idea! That's what I am
Immortality
Insolent man,
Open up
Let me in
...and together
...we shall live
...forever
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 1:55 AM UTC
benjamin franklin was created by benjamin franklin
one of his most ingenious inventions
you could never read all the books about him
when you finish one, two more have been written
i party in his colossal footsteps
thanks ben, for lending me all those volumes from your library
you invented bifocals, i see clearly
your stove warms my heart
i give away my **** too -- no patents for me either
let’s jam sometime on your glass armonica
i’m packing one of your divided soup bowls on my next ocean trip
i’m sick of losing my clam chowder to the waves
these terms you added to the lexicon:
"battery," "positive," "negative," "conductor," "discharge"
i’m positive i bought a battery the other day
you designed the first penny – only now an anachronism
no matter how many of those saved pennies have been earned
all those aphorisms, my god
i bet you mumble them in your sleep
you started the philosophical society, me the secret music society
you studied whirlwinds and gulf streams when sailing to london for a cup of coffee
you designed flippers, hung onto a kite for windsurfing
used the kite to summon lightning
invite me next time you blow up a thunder house with an ungrounded lightning rod
we’ll make pittsburgh tremble
and congrats on the grounded lightning rods
you saved millions of people and neutralized religion
it’s not the deadly finger of god, the vengeance of the lord
it’s just a buzz
lighting the streets at night comes in handy
though the night watchman concept has gotten a bit fascist
brokering the french alliance was stellar for our onion soup supply
but your suggestion that we unite these states
i’m not sure that one’s gonna stick
and thomas jefferson was a cockblocker
we declare independence from his scolding us for all our mademoiselles
Jun 20, 2019
Jun 20, 2019 at 5:12 AM UTC
I don't like deleting certain emails
for the simplest of comforts
seeing the sender's name provides,
they are...
a hot tea on a "still sick"sick day,
an unexpected "how are you" inquiry,
or a late summer blossom,
a lavender Rose of Sharon,
shockingly discovered through a
country kitchen window on an early fall day,
or a poem born effortlessly,
it's existence unbeknownst to its creator,
just minutes earlier, unaware of its arrival,
just like this one...
or not deleting a newly gifted photo,
uncovered while closing one's eyes
past the midnight hour when
the old day hands off to the newly born incoming,
sending yourself off to bed
with a smiling chuckle;
of a young child's first day of school photo,
her plaid skirt and black patents,
a cherry-topping smile radiating hints
of both a pleasured future, a happy home,
and a growing-up maturity earned
from a third summer marked upon this planet...
so I keep that email and that photo
handy-filed so they are stored,
fresh faced in my inbox or screen,
a friend's name, now a symbol of caring,
a child's photo, emblem of a kind of love,
that parented this poem, so that happily both *****
the armor of the commonplace
of both the everyday,
and the unforgettable world weariness
of having been there years before when,
when the mind sudden recognizes the new day's
sad refrain, sadder name and its most
saddest anniversary and these
disparate comforts,
both say, rest easy friend,
and now off to sleep...
2:31 am
Sept. 11, 2014
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 2:59 AM UTC
I did the test, got an answer
back, a close link from my
mothers side, to Franklin,
being Benjamin, who did
stop off at Cork Harbour
en route to Paris in 1786.
What is odd, I have two
patents and a string of
inventions, but never did
come to equate time with
money.
On my fathers side, it
appears that I am a diluted
royal.
What is odd, I had a bakery
in New Zealand which I
called " Well, Bread. "
Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 3:43 AM UTC
Houseflies always buzz,
In the key of F.
Sometimes people come across,
As something different than they are.
A woman attending Clark,
Didn’t think she was smart.
But that was proved untrue,
With her one sixty-five I.Q.
There is No Child Left Behind,
But what is there for children already ahead.
Thomas Edison, holder of a thousand patents,
Was once called stupid by a teacher.
If I ever die, I’d like it to be,
In late March. That way, I’ll have
Winter to go with me, and
I’ll leave the world warm.
In New York, one person’s job is,
To check all the musical instruments,
And make sure they’re in tune.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 11:17 PM UTC
Oh my life give me a way
Wander for gratification in sun's ray
Waddle adrift,but never thought
My seclusion and silence be got fray
Completely deluded by the world
Pleasure,luxury,leisure all nod nay
hurriedly come,my final day!
How propitiate GOD by timeless pray.
Inculcate goodness & need wickedness to slay .
Reverence mentor,patents,elders & must to obey
With their emotions neither delay nor play.
Submission to GOD & mould life right from today
By shaffu@
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 6:28 AM UTC
Knight drawn from patents of nobility
Forgery lines emblazon humility
Aided duties fit to pantomime
Birthed in the fake lands of Liechtenstein
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 6:25 PM UTC
Copyrights and patents
"What up reality?"
"Whatch you got for me today?"
The Marksman ****** on his cigarillo
His voice was distinct
A whirring voice
Vocable word choices
A man of great aptitude
Never blinked, never winced
With acute paranoia
And a metallic nucleus
Daft
He heard voices
Egging him on
Baiting him
Taking ****
Nuisances
"How's the ulcer oh glorious gunman?"
They said
"Hurts doesn't it?"
"Ready to give out?"
"Put that plastic bag on your head and end it"
The Marksman pivoted and headed toward the kitchen
And made a stew of whatever he could find under the sink
And ate it
"Hail to the chief and send my complements to the chef!"
He put the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger
He was buried and had the most dignifying funeral I ever had the privilege of attending
-Tommy Johnson
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
Besotted winged pollinators
roistering barrage drowned
amidst general insectivorous cacophony
indistinct auditory signals communicated
intermingled with bounteous wafting fragrance
midwifed edenic floral pullulation
sensate admixture viz colored spectrum
amidst unrehearsed extemporaneous
orchestral suite bedded lambs
amorous ewe man like bleating songs
nature all aflutter actively socially vociferating
profuse living color rainbow pastiche
teeming soundgarden smorgasbord
cornucopia ignites mordent Utopian aural swath
visual vistas stilling spellbinding
spilling riotous carpeted web
uniting doubting Thomas's existentialism
despite unanswered queries
asper diverse modalities each specie evolved
to survive despite countervailing destructive forces
generating plethora pandemonium ironically
promulgating harmonic exemplary convergence
Highland Manor concourse aflame with new life
parented by instinctive imprimatur anonymous patents
now genetic mapping usurped with untold outcome
analysis bred crispr discovery Earthlings fiddling
glorifies honied indemnity Judeo-Christian kudos
leaves of grass kudzo resistance mutation immunizes
biosphere once prolific differentiation shrinks
becoming monocultural setting virtual stage
catastrophe plus food shortage would become
global debacle predicated, sans virulent
viral and/or bacterial strain renting asunder
tripwire unspooling delicate webbed whirl
already widely compromised more so
since Rachel Carson wrote Silent Spring
**** sapiens population explosion
pits profligate predilections planet Earth in extremis
dire crisis cavalierly dismissed humans
in hot pursuit racking up superfluous wealth
***** deeds done dirt cheap - tricking
mother nature, who will unwittingly
spring scrumptious feeding off scrimmage
forcing capitulation or total extinction
meanwhile fostering long tall floral inflorescence
a composite having sessile flowers
apiary abuzz, cuz queen bee
can no longer wax bereft of royal jelly.
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 12:35 AM UTC
They try to breakya
with the new
agenda then they'll
mendya when you're broken,
promote you as a token of
new enterprise and we know
deep down it's all a load of fuckin'
lies,
but we voted
didn't we?
for this parliamentary witches crew
who
empty whatya got into the ***
take the fuckin' lot and tell you
you're not worth a light,
right?
It's time we spoke out
time we broke out,
time we stormed the citadel and
sent the cauldron and the coven screaming into hell.
The division bell will sound unless we smash it first and send it underground,
we should tear the mother down and start from scratch.
if you're broken there's a patch for it, a plaster that will cover all the broken **** they put you through, but
the parliamentary witches crew hold all the patents, latent ******** that's all they are.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 3:24 PM UTC
AN ABSTRACT & BRIEF CHRONICLE OF THE TIME
Dónall Dempsey has
asserted his right to be
identified as the author of
this moment
in accordance with
the Copyright, Design & Patents Act
of this very
now.
All rights reserved.
This moment is his
& his only.
Sea and sky both
have walk on parts.
A mountain is an extra
with no speaking part.
The tiniest of *****
sits enthroned upon
a sea-stained copy of
Prufrock's Love Song.
No one knows of this
moment
except Dónall Dempsey
who lived it all
by himself
in his own aloneness.
He has turned the
moment into words
of his own
devising
so that you to
whoever you
may be
can partake
of this long lost
forgotten moment
until, human voices
wake us
". . .we drown. . ."
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 5:57 AM UTC
"...IT HAS PLEASED THE GOD OF BATTLES..."
General Dan is visiting
his leg
at the Military Museum
for 50 years now.
The one he lost
at Gettysburg.
Walt is visiting the wounded
and the many dying
at the Patent Office
press ganged into a makeshift
hospital
in glass cases
patents stare
at patients
"every kind of invention
it ever occured..."
the poet remarks
"into the mind of man
...to conceive."
A soldier laughs out loud
even as the President visits.
He has been handed
a religious tract
"The Sin of Dancing"
he who
has
no legs.
A crop of amputated feet
grows higher and higher.
How human are
a man's toes.
A dead Confederate
is dragged into position
to make
a better photograph.
Bushfires rage
through the Wilderness.
The scream of the wounded
being burnt alive
begging to be shot
"Did we or did we not
do all
that men could do>"
Shot through the socket
the eye bulges out
both brothers and
yet both survive
Microscopium constellation
looks down upon
this world of men
amazed to find itself
nailed to the Museum's floor
by some man's art
sharing the space
with General Dan's lost leg
that still lives on
in its glass case.
Obscure and barely visible
to the naked eye
just like the constellation
of the dead.
Man now
in a museum
falls asleep with
a book upon his lap
"Lost, Missing and
Troublesome Stars"
Like a musket shot
it wakes the sleeper up
turns heads as
1863
becomes
2003
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 7:01 AM UTC