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Mateuš Conrad Jun 2021
bypassing the 502 error: title - whiplash...
body... cream...

original intent:

they're doing road works on a stretch of road
where the brothel sits:
house of the rising sun or whatever you want
to call it... i'm not ready for the thrist:
for the plunge that will extend into half a decade's
worth of not *******...
i'll give it a week or so... before i take the plunge:
proper... mind you... i've already found
the perfect formula for drinking...
the cheapest bottle of australian wine...
at 14%... mixed into the glorious Mayan drink
of the gods' that's kalimotxo...
and if i'm still not "feeling it": i'll top myself
off with some slender-man's whiskey glug-glug...
it worked so well for 4 years without
touching a woman's body...
what the hell prompted me?
to wake up from this slumber?
oh... right... i own two maine **** cats
and when i was grooming the female...
she stuck up her brunt right into my hands...
it felt like: trans-species ******* for a while...
a cog in my brain went loose...
for days i cycled in the night into central London
looking at the flesh market:
of the free peoples of the western world...
what prompted me...
i was grooming my maine **** cat and she
was tempting me with a: ******* hairy apple...
no... wrong... just plain wrong...
perhaps i swing around beard envy & ha...
***** envy (well... imagine a rabbit ******* an elephant...
big **** genre of: and how deep is that...
ahem... hole? standard kama sutra...
not one size fits all)
but when your cat starts to imitate getting it...
**** me... the night... cycling... sweating it off...
until you have to touch the antonym...
but suppose you come across a timid girl
and you get a case of erectile dysfunction...
while you end up caressing her: timidly kissing
her because she's timid...
pointing at her eyebrows... nose... eyes...
ears... pimples... freckles and moles...
the mirror... fingers... elbow... knees...
and asking her to say the Romanian words for them...
sure... a momentary lapse in sanity:
the reason(s) was already self-evident...
take a woman like Ava Lauren...
now... my god... by god... that's a ****-machine...
an *** like a Lamborghini and a body
like a leather armchair...
and she stuck through it... a mandible body
of the extension of the jaw...
some people are born to be boxers...
she was built to be ****** in the confines of
orthodoxy...
dead pornstars though... i.e. Shyla Stylez...
it's really a joke if i ask: would it be necrophilia
if i'm doing it to images of a dead pornstar?
"doing it": best on the toilet...
no... no scented candles... no eager kangaroo *****
no webcam... no thrill...
3 birds:  1 stone: on throne of thrones...
no better way and all the best excuses to later
jump under the shower and get on with the dead...
sorry.. day...
4 years i did... grooming a cat awoke in my a thirst
i thought i had long forgotten...
- kinks: mostly foreplay...
       kissing after all that 2nd base foreplay
while she's on top of you veiling you with her
Turkic raven hair...
immediately after the act: all that virility...
now... dilution...
            kinks: i still tend to rub my hands against
a brick wall before i enter their abode...
i rub my hands against bricks
to demand more from when i'm touching
flesh... nothing can come close when standing
at the altar of a woman's naked body
in dim lighting... with at least 2 mirrors on the wall...
reassurances of cleanliness are highly
welcome... even though by a tonne load of surprises
she would perform ******* with the rubber
commoner of promiscuity...
- kinks: any body attired in latex...
  that's the height: ms. gimp...
                          well... there's that or me endowed
with a cockerel sized endowment about
to **** a maine **** cat during grooming...
as "sick" as finding out you've been doing
the nos. 1, 2 & 3 on the throne of thrones
to a dead pornstar like Shyla Stylez...
in third person: lover-boy all smooches
and octopus tentacles reading the geography
like he might pick up the braille of all the grooves
and hinges...
interruption: i'm no pornographer!
although there's this one allusion:
    Venus in Furs... ol' Leo von Sacher-Masoch...
on the tip of my tongue:
at the tip of my fingers...
to turn stone in skin...
   - i remember being in a strip-club once...
i had to fly to Athens for that one...
i walked into a market sq. and met up with
some random... Greeks... Algerians...
Medi- olive skinned folk...
complete strangers... we drifted around the nightclubs
and watched the girls coming out...
how's that scale of nought through to ten?
below average... and highly demanding...
the four of us decided: **** it...
we climbed into a car and drove to the outskirts
of Athens to a strip-club...
unlike a dog that's chasing cars
i couldn't just... look... a few drinks down
and still eyeing the prize
i had two women around my arms
and my face buried in one's *****:
while some demon-she look on from
the other side of the platform of lost clothing...
another put a green peg on the table
informing me i could have more...
by then i was out of debit... my card was
returned... a bouncer escorted me to the nearest
cash machine in a hotel... started talking
to the receptionist while i was pretending to
withdraw money i didn't have...
right there and then i became a child:
******* my clothes... excitement, fear... both...
dunno... drunks have this build in GPS...
Athens... a city i only just arrived in...
blind drunk mad with love...
i managed to find my way back to the hostel...
**** the guiding beacons into my dreams...
eh... a ******* is never going to be a brothel...

i don't like the argument of:
look... but don't touch... touch... but don't taste...
taste but don't... what comes after taste?
if ever i catch myself watching pornogrpahy
it has to be classic Italian flicks...
on silent...
i can never be fully absorbed:
i'll wait for a real experience to come
with the flood of the senses...
i can't give myself to simulation with all
the sense...
after all... i was probably one of the last
boys who bought a ***** mag in a shop
with... actual expedience of trade...
it was still in the open...
i might have died of shame but at least
i didn't hide it...

                  no shame in Belgium though...
we were visiting world war I graveyards
and the trenches... but at the same time
we were looking for the best brothel in Ypres
while i was the only boy buying a ***** mag...
all ****... shaved... unshaved...
no *******: because a man's imagination
was still fertile... you had a woman's body
impose itself on your psyche like
an x-ray... and you had all that imagination
to subsequently have to swallow...
third party ***** weren't involved:
you never felt like a cul de sac ******...
oddly enough... limp **** hey presto:
can't perform when asked...

ooh... ol' Turkic raven hair:
all her talents in the foreplay...
and all the smooching during *******...
thank god i could never marry...
father children...

4 years it has taken me to wake up to this...
"repressed" reality...
repressed or... even the Teutonic Order
had a brothel in their capital-citadel of Malbork...
Marienburg...
for the love of women who also love:
cleanliness... and the aesthetics of arousal...
for all that's love and all that's not love...
for all that beside love: intimacy without question:
but all the answers...
for two bodies imitating slugs or serpents
where no words are exchanged or given
toward *******: autonomous bodies reaching
for braille with eyes wide open...

- the road to the brothel was closed...
the guys doing the road works cut it off...
not tonight... tonight i'm going to bemoan how:
well... when you start writing...
don't expect to have the same sort of privacy rules
implicit of... whatever the hell you do besides...
why wouldn't a plumber raise these words
from the domain of thought that's probably
his most cherished freedom?
people can still pretend to hide in anonymity
on the internet...
but... why would you... write bogus comments
and troll...
before words become carbon on paper: pencil...
the circus of thinking ought to be enough...
unless: like me... you're going at it like a bull...
i don't think i can have "privacy" anymore...
not that that bothers me...
i'll wear a mask when i put my face on...
but literacy so squandered for the upper-hand
in slighting someone anonymously...

                    ha!           someone would have
written a confession: Anne Sexton brush-up on:
what's important... Anne Sexton... now there was
a ***** that if she was willing could make you
dream all day and night...

why are so many pornstars so... ******* attractive
that you'd wish to push them
into bird-cages with the parrots
or adorn them with white linen niqabs?
as much as i want:
my words are not sacrosanct:
but they're also no Mammon slot-machine
golden-goose mine: perhaps when i'm dead:
something might trickle down into the coffers...
but i doubt that...
words never become shapes or colours
or therefore paintings...
words burn... words and all that becomes
collateral as they dig and drown into
the unconscious: of course... no motive...
just a motif...
    
brother Balaam: fellow diviner of the god
of the Hebrews...
brother Balaam... give me the strength of purpose
to chase more shadows: more more more!
speak to me from under the depths
of the sea of death...
they have left these northern lands...
and as they now stand: proud in their multitude:
and still persist in their clinging to the diaspora:
for i will not glutton myself over
the accomplishments of but one Hebrew:
when i can glorify their deity!

literacy has been squandered:
best strip these people of their "knowledge"
of letters: letter by letter:
let them return to smearing **** on cavern ceilings!
hostile barbarians: paradoxically:
the Vikings were renowned in their celebration
of "effeminate" males: poets...
i could warn a dog or two to bark as i thus:
howl...
               little creatures of dispute...
little belittling lords of shovel ****!
hey! prompt! all verb no noun...
something these leeches might understand... "might"...

all this lubricated tongue has made me think
of something else that happened today...
beside me revisiting the cinema of memory...
grandfather and i: the hyenas of the graveyard:
although even he pronounced that
he was unable to laugh: i guess i started to laugh
for the both of us... eagerly, proper:
with the vowel catcher of the first
arm of the tetragrammaton: HA HA...
while the "other" vowel catcher would
smother the vowels in sighs: AH AH!
exasperated... almost...

       call it PR or whatever you want to call it:
i'd rather stack shelves in a supermarket
than work at a call-centre...
the deceit and the Peter Pan *******
i said: it's not the Shetland Islands...
it's the South East...
i was rummaging on an internet speed
of... 0.1Mbps (megabytes per second)
for a while... i reached a zenith of 0.6 - 0.8(Mbps)...

for a year... if not longer...
and there she was: she came...
this bleached-blonde pchła of a... she did put on just
enough mascara...
obviously taken...
i don't think *** entered my thoughts
when... she... didn't... parade her keychain
that involved a picture of her and her child...
pchła: an endearing term for a girl
of timid build... a body my shadow at noon
could break like a walnut...
i called her an engineer...
she wasn't going to construct a bridge...
she was going to fiddle with my router...
my internet connection...
a woman who had desire for fiddling with:
"dead" things: shadows...
arteries... veins... a concept of a heartbeat...

i just admired her hair...
obviously not natural... bleached...
     she was a body occupying a space...
a welcome intrusion nonetheless...
i sort of enjoyed the silence i surrounded her with...
"sort of": i clearly did...
best be on your way...
a female engineer...
well... from 0.1Mbps... coming up for air
now standing at... 5.6Mbps...
she asked: how did "we" manage?
we just watched a lot of the show live...
but... there were more important things to mind...

the bothersome truth is that:
you can't exactly dig into: pristine good...
this girl who became a "cable guy" engineer...
engineer: "engineer": "tech. support":
i'm not trying to demean her purpose:
i'm the one doodling words on a makeshift
canvas...
i'm no painter or mind having
enough nepotistic authority of: father painter
so i become a fashion designer... etc.

i pin-pointed the proper term though: no?
nepotism?
you just can't objectify certain women...
both of us beguiled having internet providers:
so... shouldn't they penalize the companies
that are all software and bar users?
will the software providers turn off my...
electricity?
the PR Peter Pan stunts... as i told her:
you being the engineer and me being the customer...
we can talk... face to face...
but over the phone?
put me in a confessional booth
with a woman from Mecca and her... double take
on what's to be seen: what's to be heard...
what's to be ******... what's not to be seen / heard...
eaten...

an eager *****: if a ***** is going to give...
but if... she's... this occupied presence...
it's impossible to penetrate her with words...
all i have is:
bleached blonde hair...
heavy mascara... something insinuating combating
nervousness: i am what i am: sorting out cables:
i reassured her: the aesthetics will be dealt with...
a drowning man will cling to a razor's edge to save
himself...
why do i feel so hardly alone
around people who invest so much
in... having children?
it's not like i'm expecting 3rd party sources
to come and salvage me: when completely decrepit...

a woman completely devoid of any ****** advances:
perhaps performing the role of a dentist:
a surgeon: it's already exploited by me
when it comes to: seeing her most ******
parts: her hands... at the grace of a supermarket cashier...
let her be... she's already averting her eyes:
i might insinuate a receding question:
there's the moon... the forest...
come autumn...
maybe i'm focusing on exaggerating myself...
i am: exaggerating myself...

toward a focus of timidity...
as best i can...
    i am a dead end joy-**** at best...
an underperformer at least...
              my own very self worn down
skipping barefoot in memory
right now probably better adorned by a straightjacket...
but who's fooling who...
the readied ***** or this girl working out
cables?

i can respect this one without a need
to pressurise her with a... ******* niqab...
until she might bloat over:
over-suckled... fat... nothing more than
a speed machine for *****-count...
something that doesn't deserve limbs:
is all torso and belongs
to the cult of the bone tomahawk cannibals...

that one motto cited by all Arabs
and pseudo-Arabs: there no water in the desert...
spoken in dearest of the dear that's England:
this green and pleasant land...
where's the ******* desert?!
shovel! both a verb and a noun...
how rare.... perhaps not so much...
        proverbs from the Middle East...
******* to the Middle East and let me
riddle my own: better a sparrow in your
hand than a dove on your roof...
how's that?

better joy in the immediacy of your own:
than peace among your closely associated.
******* H'arab...
you're no Jew... esp. when sitting
on Dino-Lamborghini juice...

castles in the sky: so the psychiatrists says...
or cities built on sand...
every Pakistani / Bangladeshi knows this
proverb...
the times of appeasing the "forever" sober
Arab and his sober-Arab libido...
i'll wait... are now... like i once said:
the horrible has already ah-happened...

and if it hasn't: then i'm still... pretty much
taking a proper role in being the only watchman
on a sly of a kipper...
n'est ce pas?

irritation culminates with:
when you make your own wine...
but don't have the filter equipment...
all that excess "fibre" probably gets your more
drunk than expected...

i haven't had enough to my liking to
somehow dissolve the pledge
to keep at least 72 ****** on a leash...
all that's eternity: given all that's
available and will be:
within the confines of un-chartered space...
send me a postcard from the eye of Jupiter...
i'm more than asking:
imploring: i'm... sort of making:
chain you to me: demands...

tomorrow's a sober head:
tonight... i'll be drunk with both wine
of my own making and...
the memory of a naked body of a woman...
exactly: if she's an engineer: "engineer"
fiddling with my phone socket...
she has a photograph of her and her child
on her keychain...
i wouldn't even dream of...
usurping her... status...

            looking at her felt like eating...
oats... something wholesome...
i met up with you... herr grey...
i did't find any child-fiddling bits...
what... were... you... hiding?!
i will laugh: if you tell me: a heart...
melt my stony enclave...
burn the whole world while you're at it!
there was never going to be any sacrifice
in the crucifix pose:
only purpose for focus: for... submission...
as someone devoid of wanting to continue....
he didn't die for "our" sins...
he died in order to be worshipped...
**** him... let him hang on... father of proselytes...

- point of closure...
for now... i never rose high enough
to suddenly turn cold-turkey: goosebumps
on the *******... still... dead...
i wasn't born into a Buddhist harem...
therefore i sometimes relapse into
the gimmick of the tease...
periodically... every half a decade....
i drink unfiltered self-made wine
and talk about hardly the ******
"exploits":
i come across magnets equivalent to
timid schoolgirls...

some supposed ****** revolution happned:
lob-sided...
given how the girls took the strap-on off
and shoved the **** down
the ******* brains of their bank account
squadron...
     the ******: "******" revolution came out
***-****-side first: thirst:
lopsided: the girls have all their fun...
we die... they come close to old age:
it continues: men tend to think throughout:
that period of concern: supposedly-deemed:
life...

the feminine agony of old age...
grandma's apple pie: **** grandma's apple pie!
i want to drink my wine
with... blisters and...
dis-ingestion...
              
         sucker punch:
            suckle toward a knuckle that might just...
make creases with caresses.
Madzq Sep 2014
"P"
Pencil - ****** - ***** - Penalize -Pentagram - Pentagon - Pentagonal - Penitentiary -Pensive - Peninsula - P.......

....Plagued. What is it to be plagued? Haunted?
Seiged by an inescapable force?
Haulted?
IMMOVABLE.
ability to move, yet achieving no valuable distance.
A struggle writhing within ones self.

Pen -Pent- Pent up- P...

....Please, no more....

....more miles high.....
Stakes,
In the ground.....

Great stakes.....
High,
So very high.
Unreachable.
Unattainable.

Pen-Pensive-Pacing- to pace back and forth down a narrow stretch of newly carpeted hallway.
A door.

Adoring.....
Adorable....
Sweet.

Innocence left?
       May be none left.
PTSD
Andrew Rueter Nov 2017
I'm a fan of Vontaze Burfict
Though he may not be perfect
For he gives players concussions
To continue the daily discussions
Of the power of his percussion
To receive a hall of fame induction
That is where his value is derived
So what do these penalties imply?
That the referees have a preconceived notion of him
And are preemptively looking to treat him grim
Which gives his team a lesser chance to win
Which makes the biased referees grin

We are a country that idolizes quarterbacks
Every other position we're quick to attack
We only care about who has the ball
And laughing at others when they fall
We worship that which is shiny
And view everything else as grimy
Quarterbacks become celebrities incredulously
While everyone else is treated impetuously

The NFL is like America
Politics makes it harder to watch
The Patriots are boring and plain
They win constantly
The Bengals are entertaining and rough around the edges
They show promise and potential that is never realized
In a nation
Of provocation
I'd rather proudly call myself a bengal
I know that seems an idealistic angle
But Cincinnati provides no coziness or protection
You must always avoid discriminate detection
Of those that call themselves patriots
That drive blue and white chariots
And penalize players unnecessarily
For African Americanning

We really fumbled the ball
Because of the ref's call
That treats us unequally
How they have fun evilly
They can arbitrarily treat whoever however
But a concussion will make them less clever
Amelia Jo Anne Aug 2013
It's such a different perspective to see her self-hatred outdoes my own. She's a brilliant, dying star. Vacuuming away all the evil in her, siphoning it through her throat. Flush it down. Pulling apart her bones from the inside out. I can understand that.

I've been thinking offhandedly, not on purpose. Take a deep breath, look up at the clouded sky. The blown, restless leaves endlessly remind me of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. Let my mind go blank. Refocus, come back down from wherever I went, finding I've been working questions over while unaware. Autopilot likes to steer toward the ground. I've been thinking offhandedly, not on purpose, of the best way to say goodbye.

I've been dreaming of writing this down all morning, all night. Who's to say I haven't been anxiously awaiting this all my life? To tell you what it's like to hate yourself so much that others become mere blips on the radar; still there, but so unrecognizable. I become unreachable. I've been dreaming of opening myself up, seeing all the things that are tucked inside, away from my reach. They all tell me not to go looking for trouble, but hell, how could it possibly get worse? I'm curious.

Lying here loathing myself for being so pitiful. So pathetic. Part of me knows I am wallowing, stewing, dwelling. The other part knows what they don't: there is nothing of worth  here. Take it all away, no more trying. Drop my cards on the wood between my elbows, stand & take my leave. You guys can split my poker chips. It'll be so...so lovely...not waking up to the bleak, the empty. Not to have to face myself in the mirror, with my troubled eyebrows & worried lips & the nervous twitch of my mouth that wasn't there a month ago. Not to wake up to every 'can't'. Not to stare into my own blank, listless eyes; numb. So mortified of myself, miserable with me, yet so distant, removed, disinterested, distracted.

Please don't be upset if I think of you before I go. Understand that just because I want to die doesn't necessarily mean I want to leave you. Don't count this one last sin; dreaming of my fingertips memorizing the contours of your face, kissing your eyelids, your cheeks, your mouth, your neck, hands, tears. Breathe in the scent of you. Maybe you could give me some courage to hold onto as I let go. Don't penalize me for this, please. Let me live in how much I love you one last time. I'm sorry this hurts you.

I just figured out how to say goodbye.
Dear Mr Cameron, what are you trying to do,
you are getting rid of soldiers by score.
You are turning "Good Old Blighty"
into Europe's private Loo.
and on the side you want us all to go to war.

With the cut-backs,
will they get there.  
Do we know if they can swim
                         Perhaps ask your mate OBAMA                         
may let them ride with him.

It seems that you "Prime Minister"
forget who pays your wage
You want to spend those Billions
on a brand new railway line
                                          
You will save, what, 30 minutes
which is really not an age
But like many of your policy's
you'll very likely change your mind.  

I find a piece of paper
would help you without a doubt
If the things you write seem stupid
                           when you read                                  
and the figures don't look viable
                 you could always rub them out                  
This would then leave lots of money
for the things we really need.    

Didn't anybody tell you
when you did first get the     job                                                                  ­                                                       That "for" the British people
                                   you are meant to do some good.                                  
Not to make the poor get poorer
                and be forced to go and rob .              
Should we re-employ that man
called Robin Hood.      

Get a grip I say to you,
do yourself a favour.                                                          ­                                                        Perhaps staying in this country        
you may not lose out to Labour.          

You penalize the unemployed
who cannot get a job.                        
But for the rich
you keep the taxman from their door
and for your mate the banker you
will save him a few bob.                                                             ­     
How about some time and effort
aimed a little more at the poor.  

We all know what Obama
really does expect from you,      
but remember every now and then
it's good to tell him, No.                                                              ­                 You don't have to walk behind him
doing what he wants you to.    
It would be nice if you politely
could tell him where to go.      

Also!
Brussels cannot rule
this country any longer.                                                          ­                           Who do they think they are making
all these stupid rules.          
Whilst we weaken this UK
they get stronger every day,  
do they forget we won a war
and we are far from being fools.    

I do hope "Mr Cameron"                                                         ­           
you might think about today        
and contemplate upon the issues
that I and others raise.          
Then instead of pleasing Europe
and the good old USA,                          
you might keep that job of yours and
warrant a little praise.
A poem that was included in earlier anthologies. Written when David Cameron won his first term as Prime Minister and just after the failure of the then Conservative government to take our troops into Syria after the Labour party voted them down.
JLB Dec 2011
Inspiration resists my morals’ Plea
And I penalize the madness spilling forth from pen in hand.
Revoking my passions to save a lover’s skin,
As I hold my heart under wings spread reluctantly.
Innocence was cast into Time’s sand,
Alas my passions win.
Brent Kincaid Oct 2015
Here sits the poet
The scribe of the times
Rendering the wordless
Into heart-rending rhymes.
Listen to the poet
Who says what most do not.
Pay attention closely
And see what the poet has got.

Sometimes you listen,
Then must listen once more,
Because hidden inside
Might be the words to a score.
Only you don’t yet hear
The music it is playing
Because you are still listening
To the words they are saying.

And, sometimes you must
While reading the second time
Be careful not to penalize
Because the words don’t rhyme.
It is often about the cadence,
The way the words dance along,
That turns the words from prose
To the beginnings of a song.

The poet’s job is to treat you
With a bit more than just language
To give you all the artistry
That the spoken word can manage.
So we use things like spacing
And often joyous syncopation
To achieve your attention
And catch your imagination.

Whether in a limerick
Or in a soothing lullaby
We do our best to slip things
Like satisfaction past your eyes.
We are, after all, artists
Who take what you have heard
And use that to entice you
To fall in love with the spoken word.
Brent Kincaid Apr 2015
If I had a nickel for every each and every Republican lie
Guess how many congress men and women I could buy.
I could buy another country and then I could use it to
Put all those Republicans in. I would. Wouldn’t you?

I could work with medical science people
To make a vaccine legal in court
That would make all the legal criminals
Wake up just three or four feet short
And green and purple spots on them
To make them all immediately stand out.
Then, when we saw one of them in public
We could point at them and loudly shout.

If we could somehow get back from them
All the time they have wasted each year
We could give it all to people who now
Live without hope, and only have fear.
We could legalize prostitution as well
And make them all perform as doxies.
But, who would want to make it with them?
So, they would have to hire some proxies.

We could do the same with lobbyists
And others who bribe representatives.
And we could quadruple the taxes owed
On them and all their pensioned relatives.
We could make the remove graffiti marks
Off of all our defaced walls and things.
Then, we could make them work fast food
And try to live by cooking onion rings.

If we could make that stuff from that movie
That made liars tell nothing but the truth
We could sniff these evil ******* out
While they are still in their stinking youth.
We could penalize their parents too
For miseducating them so very badly.
But there is no such magic potion
And I make that statement sadly.

Brent Kincaid
4/22/2015
I want to be unapologetic
Yet, I continue to apologize
For every difference that they see
Increases the need to compromise

From what I wear to how I sleep
Or what is deemed a healthy size
From then on, I understood
That I lived only to be described

I apologize again for my differences
Next time, I will improve my disguise
For the sake of your own comfort
I will keep putting aside mine

I look up to their condescending stares
They will never be satisfied
I escape into my solitude
I am not something for you to define

I am tired of advocating for myself
Without the support of family ties
Finding more hate in my own growth
As though I live to be ostracized

My attempts to calm my abnormalities
In order to sooth those who penalize
To make room for all of their expectations
To create another profitable merchandise

They have taught me to pursue
A personality so idealized
While they heavily persuade me
To carve a body to sexualize

Only to be rewarded with a life
Where I am only patronized
Filled with the inequalities
That are completely normalized

I retreat into my inner world
The place where I fanaticize
Of a space where I can breathe
With the encouragement to try

I am not broken, just discouraged
Of those who antagonize
Minorities and their differences
Who then live demoralized

I don't want to be given a role
With a life script to memorize
Or submit myself to a narrative
That can easily be summarized

Do not confide me to a label
Just so you can stigmatized
Those labels are not my name
I deserved to be recognized

I do not wish to be put on a pedestal
As another icon to be advertised
I only wish for your understanding
Just enough to be humanized
Kimi Jan 2018
Positive thinking got you drinking yourself in shrinking it off like it was a bad day, just a bad play, that it'll go away maybe if you pray
Blinking the lies, closing the lids at the rest of your life, just to avoid losing your way, stop you from jumping off the bay, try to find that ray
Meditate, let the light illuminate your mind, realize that it is not your day, your month, your time to be alive, shoulda just dived
Leave behind the weight, everything that's falling off your plate, starve, **** off your *** drive, collide into the divine light

 Job, having a boss barking off orders behind the shop, his saliva tasting like cola pop, go back to making corn on the cob
Walk the fury off going to the bus stop, have the boss pass by with the new drive, feeling like your head is in a throb, your whole life is a joke
There you go asserting, to make sure you keep that earning, determined that this what you should be deserving, absorbing it because you got no other yearning
You're overworking, jerking yourself off cause you got everyone overlooking you, shaking you off, like you're nothing, of no concerning

Come back home alone, grab a beer to cheer yourself up, forget that you have no one dear, no peer to be sincere or express your biggest fear
Eat some made up meal, feel like a pioneer putting together some canned tuna with weird aroma, do some tear and stir, end up with an unclear gear
Binge watch some netflix, six episodes in a sitting, call it a quick fix for your emotional mix, wonder if its time to bring the crucifix, 
Expel the demons that keep making snips and ticks, writting a bad script for your life, six episodes and six more and another six, wonder if its all just a bad trip

You're a meaningless grain, this pain is in vain, you're not even part of the food chain, abstain from being the main one to entertain
Don't let the grey slob penetrate your right brain, don't complain to the earless strangers about your acid rain, they'll call you insane, show off their gain
You won't find in anyone a golden ray, they'll shower you golden then flush the drain,  steal your blood when you cut off your aortic vein, 

Rise above before your demise, realize you're the one holding the light, that life is more than smelling like french fries, that if there's no light, you rob a flashlight.
Cries and kicks won't bring the sunrise, sanitize your thoughts, do not penalize your gut, ride the highs before you die, customize your hell ride.
You're on your own, and time is drippin on, you don't get a clone to do a re-do and reach the throne, get off your phone, soon you'll be staring into a light in your tombstone
Grow a backbone, burn down your belief of home, do not pospone your will to live because its out of your comfort zone
Lucid Dec 2014
The crowd around me’s thick with all the faces I’ve created
They’re all bleary eyed, but I still try
To find one that isn’t jaded
I tell myself it’s all my fault, though I know that isn’t true
I still blame myself for all the hell
That you have put me through

Your fire burned my soul and left it’s ashes in my core
Icy veins just can’t sustain
My life source anymore
I don’t want to hide behind the darkness of the truth
It wasn’t me; you’re the thief
That stole away my youth

So I closed my eyes to the monsters you left behind
Now I’m stuck asleep, unaware of my reality

I won’t awake. I died that day
You can’t seem to see, it was you that murdered me
And I just can’t--understand
You shouldn’t be allowed to throw away your child

You shot those words like bullets, now all I see is smoke
Reload the gun, I turn to run
As it seeps from your throat
I walked in on crutches; did you ever let that soak in?
I know you knew, so how could you
Break someone already broken?

I hope your eyes turn white from all that you refuse to see
All you see is you, so it must be true
You’re the queen of everything
Just peel away the flesh and blood you cursed upon my bones
Since it’s yours to take, you won’t hesitate
To sit upon your throne

So I closed my eyes to the monsters you left behind
Now I’m stuck asleep, unaware of my reality

I won’t awake. I died that day
You can’t seem to see, it was you that murdered me
And I just can’t--understand
You shouldn’t be allowed to throw away your child

I can’t seem to wake up. Just want you to make up
For what you said to me, I need an apology.
What hurts me the most is I just won’t let go
Of the kind woman who liked to hold my hand
Penalize, traumatize
Recognize all the lies
Crying, I’m dying
From all of your lying
Lost at sea, I can’t breathe
What have you done to me?
Drowning, I’m drowning, I’m drowning


I won’t awake. I died that day
You can’t seem to see, it was you that murdered me
And I just can’t--understand
**You shouldn’t be allowed to throw away your child
Lucid Nov 2014
What have we become, oh humans
Hands made for breaking things without touching them
We drown in our temptations
Without a moments hesitation

Take a look around, what do you see?
Fake smiles straining from hypocrisy
Consume and devour
Take what isn’t ours

Penalize, glamorize
Recognize all the lies
Such a waste, big disgrace
**Why am I in this place?
xavier thomas Apr 2022
How long are you going to
penalize me for your past
that I had nothing to do
with as a new man?
Lennox Trim Nov 2023
I felt crash landed - in a strange place,
This is not how I planned it - mind in an estranged state,
Felt like a different planet - what is the strange space,
Dealt with the grapes i was handed - but I had to change the pace,
Expected enmity cause eventually everybody's an enemy,
I used my verbal anemone to protect my mental amenities,
I had to penalize penalties that tried to dismember me,
But since I moved to the peach,
Life's a beach - but with ample sand,
Scenery is asterisks and ampersands,
Bittersweet ; I asked for this,
Father stretched my hands,
I managed this time shift- now i have super visions,
No more stupid visions of voodoo superstitions,
Thought it'd be an intermission to my inner mission..

But I'm Saiyan,
A lot of Heros turned out to be Villains,
Like Some of my Gokus turned out to be Krillins,
I'm Saiyan;
Some of the Halos they held turned out to be Horns,
Some of the flowers they had handed me , had thorns,
I'm Saiyan;
I took advice from an imitation Master Roshi,
Fake homies just here for the ride, like Yoshi,
I'm Saiyan;
I had to pick a low to go on for my motivation,
I had to pick a coat to throw on for this hibernation,
I'm Saiyan;
for some reason my plight i chose to prolong,
Had them demons blowin up my cell , like Gohan,
I'm Saiyan;
I ducked advice and moved from the side of them,
Then i sacrificed ...myself-
I was on some saibaman,
I'm Saiyan;
I had to access these hidden chambers,
with my hand on my black chest,
I know I'm something greater...
I've always love DBZ and I chose to tell my story about abruptly moving to GA while referencing one of my favorite shows
Jessica Hill Mar 2016
My shame is exposed
For the world to see
No point in hiding my scars
They're forever painted on me
It's the only thing
They know me for
This pain I carry
Is my punishment for starting this war
They say I'm a harlot
Maybe I am
Forgive me for I have sinned
Or penalize me since I'm already ******
I find myself isolated
From the rest of the world
My only joy in life
Is my beautiful daughter Pearl
So I walk the city
With my shame tattooed upon me
Represented by the letter "A"
For everyone to see
I wrote this for an English project after we read The Scarlet Letter
Inibehe Okon Jul 2020
Recently I was reminiscing on my past and I discovered that I may not have known God personally as my saviour, but I understood the principle of "Writing your own destiny/The power of your words and imaginations ", or maybe I thought I did  
For those who studied in Nigeria, in junior high school we had a subject called 'Business studies' , and one course in it was learning how to read and write SHORTHAND.
I was really terrible in that stuff, so much so that, all I thought of was how I was going to pass that subject in the last junior certificate exams (JSCE).
On the day of our exam, I turned to the page where we were required to translate in English, a passage written in shorthand. There and then, I knew I had no idea of anything, but I can't leave my paper blank. NO WAY.
JUST FOLLOW ME.. you'll know what i wrote  
Same thing happened in university. An impromptu test was given of which I was not prepared for.
Another challenge of not writing anything stood before me again.
I simply remembered my secondary school days and to be honest, this is what I wrote( I may not remember word for word, but I'll give a brief summary of the intro)..
"Dear examiner, do you know that Jesus loves you? If you dont, allow me to use this medium to tell you so, since I have no idea of the answer to your question."
So on and so forth...I made sure I shared the little I knew on God's love
Yea.. I think in the one of my JSCE, I remember adding this line    
' I know this paper will be marked in minna, so if you are a Muslim don't penalize me for talking about my God on this exam answer sheet '. Funny right   ?
I wasnt born again then, however I was by the time same repeated itself in university.
Now guess what!! Surprisingly, I didn't fail these courses. I got an overall B in business studies and a 6/10 in that course in university (I Have a colleague who can testify to this )
I don’t think I understood why I did so in Junior high, but since I got a good result, I thought of it the moment I was faced with same cross road at university (PLEASE DON'T TRY THIS O).
NOW I CLEARLY DO!!. What worked there was the PRINCIPLE OF IMAGINATIONS/SPOKEN WORDS, in the bid to writing your own destiny.
Never ever give into failure-- NEVER.
Failure is only a thing of the mind. If you allow the thought consume you, in no time, your life will become a living reality of your thoughts and words
Whenever you are at the crossroad and failure seems to be starring at you right in the face, choose life, choose success, choose anything but failure-- and ACT IT
You may call my experience luck, but I want to believe that it was this principle that worked for me- I believed what I did was going to get me in the clear, and sincerely speaking it did (Mark 11:23)
I choose success
I choose prosperity
I choose victory
I choose affluence
I choose any and every good thing God can give, because I will never settle for anything LESS
true life
On a front-row-center throne
The Would-be King relaxes.
             Besides him rests his Lady-Queen
             In tsunamis of green satin.

He’s enjoying all the accolades
In the Hallowed Halls of drama
Surrounding their appearance,
                         Where the monkey trio entertains
    And fashion marches to and fro
    Clutching heavy bits of tinsel.

All is merriment and joy
Until the Jester makes a jape
   That earns a queenly frown
   Which stirs the King to wipe his smile
And stalk onto the dais
         Where he
                         slaps
   the Jester on his cheek,
  And wearing traces of a smirk
Marches back down to his throne.

The Jester lofts a lame response
Into a sea of stunning silence
      Then the air turns shades of Royal blue
                              And American TVs go deaf
                                               For thirty-seven                                                 ­                                     seconds
While across the seas the
  Audience enjoys the
    Braying of a *******.

Believing he’s impervious
Or maybe he is Sampson
         The King pulls down the ancient walls
                   Of cherished film tradition
Reducing what was dignified
           To a rank back alley rumble
Then later makes a fake obeisance
Awash with phony tears and snot.

                   All hail the King of Hollywood
   They should take back his golden prize
        To penalize his hubris -
                And let him know rules still apply.
And cause some real tears in his eyes.
           ljm
What do you say to such monumental arrogance?

(Why didn't this post day before yesterday when I first put it up?)
hal Nov 2020
Do you know what I not?
You penalize nonconformity.
I only ask, why?
Now I scribble for your displeasure,
to watch ignorance dance
upon the cold skin which you wear
and to wait patiently
for my verdict.
Trout Aug 2019
My truck is a line to the time
When I never could have fun
Or remorse in a value system
Gaining my ice to the price in a cellular misfit
Jumping games to a hound of lusted
Save twenty-five coins for white
Underneath the brink of light
Find five distorted chimes
Helping the mystery come to life

My crack is parallel
To other sides of hell
The joint is never fine
The cues are mine

Fire to the eyes like a mice who could never ever hide
Like a racecar under the story
Tracking the lice like a whisper to never ever say
Going once, going twice forever
My beads are kin to my spine
Thought arrestments on the line
For one unsorted crime
Never realize penalize

Five words to grostulate
My severed hand is fate
The king of *******
The point of wake

Singing such a bad, bad song
Let the race go on
My heart is worn
Thinking I’m a lad of tongs
Let the brakes go hard
My tongue is wet

Six rubber bands on my hand
Go to filter out the land
Distorted chivalry bands
Mistaking instruments for the talk

My eyes are kind of sad
I’ll never strike a match
To bring this back to light
My ears can find

Winning all the guessing games
It’s a real sad fame
So burnt the eye
Finding all the mitochon-
-dria seeking fun
A blood is reign
Thorning in the black of night
To the real good times
My heart is red
Jelly in the breaking time
No more after five
Go back to bed
Siddharth Sharma Apr 2020
A friend is kind and easygoing.
One whose loyalty is always showing.

He’s generous and understanding
and genuinely withstanding.

He’s beside you through thick and thin
and will never try to pick holes in.
If you try to run, he’ll hem you in
...to safeguard & empathize.
And even at times
...when needed to penalize.

...are a few of the qualities that
a friend will specialize!
Bob B Jun 2023
Looking around, I watch with growing
Horror, sadness, and utter dismay
As many states start looking more
Like **** Germany every day.

Laws to penalize doctors for trying
To help others are spreading fear
And horrible insecurities
Among the health professionals here.

Laws pitting people against
One another are being made.
Groups are being targeted
As scapegoats in what is a vicious crusade.

Library books are being banned
Because of people's misguided views.
Laws are being made to prevent
People from having the right to choose.

We also have our "brown shirts"--
Mobs of thugs who terrorize
Others whom--for bigoted reasons--
The cruel, extremist thugs despise.

SOME states want to give their doctors
The right to refuse treatment to those
Whose ****** orientation those very
Doctors for asinine reasons oppose.

Autocrats in other countries
By many people are honored and praised,
And when the autocrats stomp on rights,
The autocrat-lovers aren't even fazed.

States are changing history with
Revisionist texts that alter the truth,
Using a silly, outlandish excuse
That doing so protects our youth.

ALL we need now is an autocrat
Wannabe like Trump in power,
And what we know as democracy
Will sadly see its final hour.

-by Bob B (6-16-23)
Poetistician Nov 2019
Believe it or not
Mathematics can make you fly
Believe it or not
Mathematics can make you fall inlove
Complex yet simple
heart-stopping yet inspiring
Starting with its orgin
Until it approaches infinity
I know you're loving math, unknowingly
Always giving you a positive vibes
Negative? dont worry, absolute value is always in your side.
Looking for a solution?
Math will never leave you without an option
helping you in making decision.
Amplify one's confident in accepting and rejecting opportunities
more accurate, less one-sidedness.
Mathematics is in your Music
it is also found in Arts
It is even seen in Nature
and even in preparing the future.
Mathematics was created not to penalize you
its existence is there to really help you.
Do not take Mathematics for granted
Because believe it or not
Mathematics can move mountains.

-FJ. Pacaldo, 2019 ❤️
#movingmountains#mathematics#believe
.                      MAGAM
                      Palindrome
   Make America Great Again Musk.

   Trump has handed Elon a pack of
    cards which he is about to shuffle
          and then remove the jokers.

     This is going to known as the big
    deal, all hands deck, trUSt all men
   and there’s going to be no dog ears.

  Can Axe The is the name of the game
  royal flush to drain the swamp of the
           dreaded Demon Crat Rats.

  Now that the lady liberties have been
  pushed aside blindfolded and gagged
ban abortion women are Fœtus Factories.

      White houses are for virgins only
        not for homeless or hymenless
      unless those with brush and  pan.
  
Penalize the Irish for voting against you
     remove all the Tech companies and
        repatriate them back to the USA.

   Tell the Stefan Bandero Ukraine Nazis
   and the Israeli Jew Zionist Nazis to go
     and **** themselves, free Palestine.

     One last thing Donny T, would it be
    possible to create a posthumous Elvis
   song from words in his vast repertoire?

— The End —