Goliath:
You buy your love with bourbon creams,
cans of beans and full cupboard brims;
steal clothes to hide a torso of lies
twist that in with teaspoon brown eyes,
deeper than any holy bible’s spine:
found in hotel drawers,
away from the preachy, needy, cast iron shrine.

David:
Whilst the girl you’re with has nothing to give,
no family member nor money splendour,
you battle on with the train rides
cross country,
cross country train track guides.
Audiobook it; listen to it; learn it and write it,
write the letter she deserves, explaining
the ins and outs of your hidden nerves:
the nerves entitled ‘I don’t love you anymore’


My first poetry pamphlet, 'Homeland & Borderland' is still available to buy for only 3.00 GBP with free P+P to anywhere in the world. Both handmade and self published>> http://www.coffeeshoppoems.com/2012/11/it-is-here-homeland-borderland.html

The room was filled with burnout nuts who looked half crazy dear lord what was someone as normal as me doing here.
Yeah dont laugh im being serious or however ya spell it.

The group slash cult leader approached the mic.
Hello im Dan .
Hello Dan.

Dear lord these people were some brainwashed hampsters almost as bad
as that voodoo priestest Taylor Swift yeah Her new song sounds just like her last okay.
the only people who like her are kids and perverts that reminds me gotta put that video on mute when i
watch it it really messes up the mood what!
Im talking bout when im writting ya perves haha no im not.

Enough with the foreplay kids.
The man went into his speech how he used to snort lines that went from here to texas
picked up hookers drank till he passed out.
Hey No wonder this man was a leader he was soon becoming my hero.

But then I hit rock bottem and stopped found Jesus once honestly i didnt know he was lost.
Now he hadnt had a dam bit of fun in four years i couldnt contain my laughter
what a ***** huh?
I said to the old drunk beside me.

Hey what you got in that cup there grandpa.
He just looked at me in a strange manner must be on a hell of a trip lucky *******.
He spoke slow in a ***** old seductive kinda scared shitless by me manner
It's Koolaide.

Yeah weird mixer what ya trying to pick up kids ya nut what else is in it?
This oldman was playing a game yeah  sure dont share you old ***** hound
my flask was nearly empty and my patience was fading with every sober ***** that took the stage Jesus people it was listening to Jeff Foxworthy it's great if your ******* but honestly its one step above a ******* puppet.

The group of lame areses was almost done when they looked at me hey there friend feel like sharing?
It was something I should fight but a mic and stage was as tempting as a
wild turkey and college keg party.

Why not.

Hey Kids Im Gonzo!
Hey Gonzo jesus it was like dealing with a human parrot or Brittney Spears really
you've  seen one mindless drone ya seem em all.

I took a deep sip from my coffee with a little something extra cup
mmm acid and folgers it goes togather like teens and ****** reallity  shows ******* MTV!

Well Im Gonzo , Hello Gonzo.
Look meeting of the living braindead it's funny the first time okay.
Okay jesus these people were bad as a boy band dam three tenors yeah your all
hot and can sing opera but wants to party to that ****.

Look here  Ive been drinking since 12  umm commited alotta fun crimes
Once paid the babysitter to show me her *******  yeah I know winning.
Ive been in 20  car crashes some of em not just other peoples cars  like I can afford one.

Ive done every drug known to man and some that arent made by people named skull and eightball.
dated strippers snorted coke off of more than just a table  get your mind outta the
gutter cause if ya dont your gonna end up like me serious!

My wife is full of life and strung out on pills that reminds me
i gotta pick her up after cheerleading practice.
Ive been in the iron bar hotel many a night yeah that ****** but he hairy guys are great to cuddle with
like big teddy bears who'll **** you yeah that ****** so ive herd well yeah.

The group was silent till DR Downer spoke up but when did you hit bottom.
Sir thats my personal life okay and besides i not that hung okay.
But you stopped right.

Stopped what are you high on crack Bobby Brown?  
First off amigo its cheap second I aint stopping till im dead yeah i could work out have no
fun and spend the rest of my life speaking in front of nuts who used to be cool
Like you Irene hey personally i wish i had seen you in the ******* cause you seem
like a nice lady and really easy to get into bed okay yeah im
sensative I always pay after that's manners.

The crowd was filled with something what was this place Jonestown
Look at what ya all become eating cookies and drinking **** I wouldnt even
drink when i was ******* five okay.

And you ****** Dave well okay it's kinda weird ya hung out in park restrooms
But if only you had met George Micheal maybe then he'd still be making good  records but ya gotta have faith im just saying.

Sure you can be nice live good yeah then one day ya cross the street and some *******
spoiled brat   teenager  who just got his license runs over your *** cause he's texting sally
asking to see her **** to share e with the rest of the football team okay.

Hey whatever happend to *** drugs and rock n roll kids.
**** living forever.
Lets party now and ***** tommorow cheers I kicked back the last
of the wild turkey hitting that liver like a sledge

The group was silent yet again **** I had crossed the line yet again ahh someone needs a spanking
but enough bout lady gaga.

Sir there leader said leave now!
Just then like something off of saturday night pro wrestling.
A folding chair hit the
hugging preachy nut over the head.

***** this guy the old drunk exclaimed lets go get trashed my life ***** lets get some ***** drugs and
Irene crank the music.

And like something outta a stupid wholsome after school special my heart grew
okay aybe thats a bit much .

We were off like fellow addicts set lose in a world as ******* up as us
And everything was as messed up as us we partyed laughed made some movies of are own that probaly wont be seen on tv anytime soon.

And we lived in the moment cause its all we ever have.
And this perves gonna make sure his is
******* fun stay crazy and avoid the clap love always
Gonzo

I've been losing myself in their arms
Though no arms wrapped around me
With one look
A story
With one slip of the tounge
An ending
With months of work and misery
A beginning
And in forty eight hours
It's lost, wrapped in the arms of the one who won't have me
Pressed to the jacket of the one who refused me
Held by the boy who does not love me
I finally lost it all in his arms
And now I sit with a hammer at my head between
My knees watching tears smack the floor at my feet

don't look now,
here comes
the tax man
he needs some
of your cash,
so he can turn
the middle east
into a giant
******* trashcan
he'll occupy
the Afghans
their poppy fields
are vast, and
at home
we love the
pills that come
from doctors
running that scam

cause we're
a nation
dedicated
to remaining
medicated
our existence
predicated on
duress, stress
and excess
we rack our
brains with worry
as from place
to place we hurry
just as startled
roaches scurry
in the frightened
sight of light
lo and behold!
what we've been sold
In bold relief,
this is our plight!

Passion fascinates me
Today, a Jehovah's Witness came to the door
and I couldn't help but smile and accept his pamphlet
because why the heaven not
yehovah or yeshua,
it is still my Lord
who ignites hearts and
guides the fire towards love
I see people looking like no one has ever loved them
like they are lost, confused, without a home,
adults who are supposed to be 'well adapted'
forcing children to accept gender roles and claiming them themselves
don't they know that God is a God of love?
using hate to make others love your way is illogical, wrong, and painful for everyone.
think of others,
and if, when you read that, you thought,
"yeah some people **** well should"
you're the one that needs to. I realized this weekend
that I will die
and my light will burn out
and I will never experience anything again
so by all **** means, I will be extreme
don't call me an extremist,
why the hell not? you have no time to be mediocre
no time to ignore the voice from the heavens
or the spirit burning within you,
no time to filter it or spray the special spray
be intense, extreme, anything and everything,
the most you can possibly be.
we used to look and wonder about our place in the stars,
and now we just look and worry about our place in the dirt,
what has happened to the human spirit?
we have forgotten we were destined for God.
we have forgotten what greater glory there was
and we have laughed at each other until the little girl
ready for her first recital,
cries before performing, because the audience knows not the kindness
they have never been taught,
the soldier stands desperate, and runs, because he has never been shown
why he should stay,
the gentlest of all get their hearts broken, because we have forgotten how to be
soft and strong,
so the hardest survive and the softest are broken and broken again and again until there is nothing left, because they have nothing to hang on to,
so find God again, let him show you how to be, do not be afraid,
he has the best plans for you,
and do not think he does not love you,
he loves you so much that he gave his life for you,
you, exactly who you are, ready to dance into the world,
he stands beside you, urging you on, he is all positive and upbuilding,
our God is a God of inspiration, not brokenness,
he will heal you and show you how to heal,
he will dance with you and mend your heart,
he will lift you to the highest pedestal if that is what is best,
or he will break you down if that is what will make you strong,
you have a choice,
for he will change you anyway,
but you may choose to accept him and know that it is because of love,
or reject, hate, and feel more broken than ever.
So, let the king of kings into your heart, because no one has ever
loved you, nor will ever love you,
as much as he does,
and he will take you into his arms and show you the world-
you are ready, you are exactly who you are supposed to be,
know that, and never forget it,
be extreme, be intense, that is what the Lord wants,
he is not looking for someone who sits quietly and accepts their lot,
he wants someone willing to change and leap and guide,
because we are not made for mediocrity,
we are made for greatness.

Listen to you speak...
verbose and way too loud
incessant - speaking at me
or as if I were a crowd.
You often are pedantic..
like a pompous- preachy fool..
who'd really like to think
that he's taking me to school...
when what you fail to grasp
we can't avail No Golden Rule -
'do unto others as you'd have done to you' and this...
might sound upright-
of course...
if you believed it too.                                            
 All Rights Reserved * 2016 - Cherie Nolan

Sanctimonious priests and their **** Biretta hats.
Tell me of me of gods praise and a world in its hard collapse.
Where were you when I needed you.
Breaking hearts I suppose.

Wilderness and forests breach out across the hills.
Sunshine and rainbows will bless our day begin.
But I'm not watching anymore.
There's no need to get preachy.

And I reek of desperation for another mans touch.
And there's none to hear me scream I've got a pretty good hunch.
Do you even seem to care?
It's not very nice over here.

Harbor buses ship Asian businessmen back over gentle seas.
The city is alive against the saintly laden breeze.
I reach out to the stars.
They turn away and blush.

And I'll be ****** if I ever admit its not you its me.
And I'll keep up this facade, I'm over here and I'm free.
My body wanes past the flowers.
Their beauty turns to coal.

This is a subcultural song

Free energy efficient enthusiasts
Replaced the iroquois punk style
Alternatives, noisy *******; ear
Damaging drum bass boxes in da
Clubs. Ravishing rave parties in
Mini skirts, glam glossy brass on
Ecstatic strobe-light synthesis - a
Synthetic mainstream paradise
Submerged to hypnotic sucklings
On the colourful plastic pacifiers
A gummy retreat before waterless
Collaps. A dehidrated dream that
Tried to shut the world off by the
Tendrils of regression resemblance.
Adult babies aboard going back to
The false long forgotten innocence.

There is no subculture in being above
The depth. Superficiality seems a posh
Pose and a good hiding reason for socially
Awkward childish rebels without material
Issues. The sore tissue of contemporary art
Is people don't believe in subjective objective
Selves anymore. What authorities put on the
Shelves there - it has to be good-when on the
Real deal discount. You think im not of such
Kind. Sheepishly blindfolded herd lives some-
where else. I pity them. Mock the socially meek,
Unajust, fat, poor or a greek profile. It has to be
A button hot child candy nose to **** her or to
Call a beauty per se. Per american dream team.

***** are hot untill they have pneumatics, man
Are man if they whirl the banknotes under bank
Accounts. ******* act like man in disguise greedy
For more. I inhabitated all this inherently ugly
Preachy words instead of puking into a labdab
Lavatory and cleanse myself from repulsively
****** cultural intermittent artifacts. And how
Can i not subdue to its overwhelming pressure.
I'm just an indigo child of flower children. Don't
Throw me the bones fueled with the black golden
Marrow. I'm a new alternative peasant, growing
Carrots and celery at bio degradable villages. . .
Its not a contra cultural venture if your socks
Are made out of industrial cannabis, and yet
There's no need to. Think. Love. Play music.
Listen. Breathe. Live life as if yours favourite
subcultural song is repetedly on...going along

Like a viser I advise that you finally find your eyes
Peaked and bordered by a toque the  sun cant stop to shine
Yet light obliviates eyeballs well adjusted to the rain
Can make the same eyeballs rise to re-perceive again
In this corporate quest investment is on par with love
Always carrying cash like a box of rubber gloves
Defend against the right to starve and strangle on the street
Gain the right to put a diamond right above my seat

Altercations alter authors read atop the altar
The Council of Nicaea building progress not to falter
Piling future thought like a towered Jenga game
Is funny *** it's true to say the atheists are the same.

Preachy ******* carrying Richard Dawkins in one hand
Sapping all that's holy from a gold block into sand
Crying because life is now a fight or flight response
A nihilist is just another  ****** fanatic ****

A nihilist is the strangest
A suicide bomber using words
Making sure you understand it's worthless and it burns
Bombing every holy site stacked deep inside your brain
Proving that within this life you've got nothing to gain
He pretends you come from blank and end up there again
Forgetting that's impossible,
Hypothetically insane.

If we came from nothing, return to nothing
Where's all this from, then?
Nothing can't exist by implication, but we can?
When I say that everything is nothing
What I mean:
Is nothing is the everything that we all can clearly see.

We are born
blank slates.
We know nothing of this
hate filled world
this love filled world
this world itself
is mystery.
I see my niece
she is not two months
but I fear for what she will
soon experience.
I want to build
a better world.
to keep her safe
to keep her 8
almost 9! year old sister
safe.

But I fear the fight
is just too great.
To go against
all the world has thrown.
To go against
all that I must take.
I can't fight
this battle alone.
I **** it with kindness.
Kindness to strangers
hoping that they will
do the very same.
hoping they will
take up the reigns
fight this battle
with me
today.

Because a better tomorrow
is all I ask.
A better tomorrow
for the children.
It's too late
for my generation.
We know the fear
of terrorists.
of the economy.
of each other.
of drugs.
of guns.
of people who are
"different".
And so on...
But I wish that we
as a whole
as a generation
as a people
as a global community
can look past what we had
can look past what we want
to be kind to one another
to be kind for the future.
Because that's all I ask
do something kind
be someone kind
do kind works.

I know that it goes
against some people's
very nature.
to be kind
to do kindness.
but that is part of the battle.
that is part of our fight.
fight ourselves
internally
no each other
to do kindness
to help the world.

This may seem
just another preachy
overly optimistic poem.
But I have known abuse
unkindness, terror
pain and heartbreak.
If I can work past it,
I believe you can too.

Somedays life will
seem like it's going all uphill
some nights you'll cry
screaming as if you wish you could die
sometimes your heart must break
sometimes you have to make mistakes
life isn't all cake and roses,
but those that I'm speaking to already know this

I know it sounds like I'm living a cliche
but you can't have the rainbow without the rain
you can't have a day without the night
so please keep going, don't give up the fight
I'm not saying that to sound preachy
I'm saying it because I almost ended it recently

I looked deep into my soul and saw my family
though they arent perfect they were there for me
not just my blood relatives but my family in ink
you're never alone, no matter what you think

sitting ******, writing with stolen
utensil. i've always been such a moral
animal. eyes feasting, far
gone and achieving six out. broken
wings on a gold standard, once
was an eagle springing forth to fly.
spriting free, up and into war waged
from electrons upon humble air;
red eruptions linger above muted thunder-
head. vessel screamed, 'FETTER!'
in hopes to lull and coax a fleeting spirit;
subtlety is lost when of the flesh. but is preachy
of birth-destination in a Western zodiac, and
resolved of thought by dialogue
    at the
       Pearly Gates
     of, '**** my left nut.'
though, censure for words might be in form
of back-handed divinity; cursed to earth
to rot and whither away. absorbed into misted memory
and lost in timed reluctance. fogged natural
memory with delusion brought forth by addition
of deliriant -- cursed to never rest.
    "I never see the devil, but
       I do see demon." though, that was during a time of
much more coffin rehearsal; time before the Godhead
spots of light emanating of Nothingness unto Nothingness.

These poems ****,
I tell myself.
I follow a formula,
But it comes out tight.
I do it on my own,
It sounds too loose.
It’s loose in a sense,
That it came right from my flow of thoughts.
Off balance and perhaps preachy.
Maybe even redundant and bland.
Did that really come from me?
Where is this coming from?
WHO AM I!?
HOLY CHRISTMAS TREE!
Those words that I typed on my iTouch,
At midnight before a day of classes.
Please, just go to sleep already,
Jesus freaking Christ sitting with the Buddha in heaven,
GO TO SLEEP.

I've three poems to write for Open Mic on Monday night
But where to get the inspiration?
How do I know what will sound right?
I'll have to dig deep to find new words and sentences in my own time
As well as making it matter
and make sense to you
But isn't too preachy whilst stood in the limelight
Something that flows free
And comes naturally
In hindsight
How do I change up the rhymes
But keep my structure and flow tight
What style am I wanting to deliver?
Well, I want to really reach in to memories
From which emotions are triggered
But still keep some sort of restrain
To tame all those scenes you'll envision
Cos that's me at heart
I'm all about subtlety
When using specific words and wisdom as art
But I'm not a master yet
I've still got lots more learning to do
I'm still yearning for you
To give me feedback
So if I talk crap
And it sounds whack
Tell me to stop and rethink
I can always backtrack
Cos I've got a passion for language
Which at times is demanding
When I can't seem to get what I want on a page
I'll sit and think for ages
Even when there's no sunlight
To break through the haze
Only by emptying my thoughts
Can I navigate this inner maze
So let me now share with you
How I've written words in cursives
How I've arranged every word
So these verses feel furnished
Full of purpose
And meaning
That enter your chest
Just off left
So you physically feel
What I'm revealing
Giving life to meaning
And now I've started
I'll finish
Cos I'm fully committed
That's one poem down
2 more left to envisage
I hope you enjoyed this
Simple musing I've written

Many are not able to grasp it.
Your love I mean.
What with all the pain,
Afflictions,
Wars,
Hatred,
Religions,
and the like.

Try as they may to grasp it just to slip from their fingertips.
Your love I mean.
Without the logic,
the sense,
the proof,
the evidence,
the tangible,
or something physically palpable.

Oh sure I have sang about it,
Perhaps preached about it,
Even scolded others about ignoring it.
Your love I mean.
Perhaps this makes me a hypocrite,
a bigot,
an ignorant,
a self-righteous,
maybe even preachy,
or a holier-than-thou type.

If I  cannot fully grasp it, how can I share it?
What is true for many is not true for others.
Your love I mean.
What with the studies,
the science,
the confusion,
the politics,
the agnosticism and atheism,
and the overall misunderstanding.

Few truly grasp it enough to sincerely share.
Oh to be adjoined to the martyrs because of it though!
Your love I mean!
To perish,
Lay down one's life,
Give up the ghost,
Enter the glory,
Cross the great divide,
and join the angels.

In this was it made graspable though,
Your love I mean,
Through the Godsent,
the Son,
the Lamb,
the Prince of Peace,
the Counselor,
and the Wonderful!

Cosmic Coordination #3
(one day further, meter righted, verbs re-chosen ,rhymes clearer, form tightened, economized; made easier to read;
even message and its nuance altered)

Moment now can never come again,
Not poetry, not inspiration;
Angle, viewing - changing. never to be re- a thing,
Moments have a nano-difference,
Must have nano-variation;
Individual, a coin
Two-sided, joined
By now and not…

Moments have no measure,
No more import in the one than t’other –
Value too. Does sitting on the loo
Have more significance than any other thing you do?
Same dance, same chance - with difference.

The instant used for what it is –
An irreplaceable – shall we say, space?
(Let’s call it ‘space) to use with all its use                                      
As product, project, problem solved:
A life improvisation.

Influences, guides that sway -
You need to take them,
(soaking up many ways unawares).  And unaware,
You also guide and shape and sway
From where you are, for you have power,
Synchronized with galaxy and star
And all the spheres that ever were.

Not to sound too know-it-all, sententious, preachy:
That’s the way it is!

Cosmic Coordination #3 12.18.2016
Nature Of & In Reality;
Arlene Corwin

I haven't written in a while,
it's killing me, let it flow out,
can never let the tar be filling me,
Man, I can't even push out a smile,
not even for a little while,

I wish life was as easy as the movies,
Ace the test, get the job, it got through to me,
Can't let the matrix occupy my brain no more,
It's not paying rent or it duties,

I've got to bite the bullet and keep the finger's a'chuggin
I'm not gonna stop my INFP game, keep them sluggin'
I'm not here to impress a soul, just leave a mark
not many people reach out, the void is stark,

I'm not trying to sound preachy, but I always do
I see the faults within me, I hope you see yours too
I've got to move forward with some things in my way,
**** tomorrow, today is the day,

What's the thing you've been avoiding because familiarity,
breeds within you a false sense of clarity,
don't get caught in the rat trap of your matrix,
Focus, and fix your way out of this.

enunciating, conversationally
the opposite of yelling at a foreigner
only wishing to be heard
while maintaining my distance from the herd
self-assured closet nerd
flipping the bird yelling
word
to all my muthafukkas
the late night ruckus causes my focus to shift
drifting aimless I try to digress
but elementary recess memories
have me needing to confess long held secret rendezvous
the south bleacher blues
and clues to what this all means…
obscenely, I expect you to follow
and wallow a while here with me
only wishing to be heard
while maintaining my distance from the herd
late model Panel, three channels
aftermarket handle, scandal with Randel
and the move that opened the world
girls and shotgun squirrels, two lucky pearls
and the swirly, I’m sorry…
one black eye. the year of fry. crystal **** high
flying over Wah-Chang sludge ponds
drawing power from the universal force and a
pretty smile
only wishing to be herd
while maintaining my distance from the herd
meeting resistance with distance running
cunningly shunning become a man
planning on dying junked up
canned heat, Sterno and Dante’s Inferno
stomach churning when lacking the black
west coast ****** flunking straight life
lost little girl, I’m sorry…
burnt up rhymer scheming miner
trying to unwind, blindly, but kindly
only wishing to be herd
while maintaining my distance from the heard
flash fire, perspiring liar in dire need of a sign
crime pile out of style ******* wilding
free range beguiler husting that 20 dollar
wellness balloon
buffoonery…. T’was June, you see,  when it spoke to me
the year before two thousand and three
granting thee
needle freedom
preachy?
Peach Tea?
just like every other fish in the ******* sea………
………………………
…….
only wishing to be heard
while maintain my distance from the herd

I wanted to taint the pop song
Put a little black in it

So I wrote a song about you
The darkest thing I knew

But the Lyrics
Sounded Preachy
The Guitar
Sounded wrong

Is it just me
Or do you not belong

In my records

In my veins

My sheets
My blood

Because if I write about you
It's just a song about love

But What I wanted
Was a song
About
You

But If Ican't
Write a simple sonnet

In Your honor

Why should I have to
But up with your
Dishonor

In my rooms?

So as of now
I'm kicking you
Out

And writing
a song
about
That

Kettle drum *** *** *** *** *** ***
There is the moment of the sun breaking over the edge of the moon
In that Stanley Kubrick’s movie what was it called?
In 2001 the towers fell and we still don’t have a colony on the moon
It turns out the monkey’s bashing each other’s brains in with bones was as far as we got
The bones got bigger
But didn’t transform into “the greatest cut in the history of film”
But who cares right? I got my iPhone
And make sure you capitalize that P
Because if you don’t you’ll get a red underline
Because even Microsoft knows that apple is a big deal
So lets have a little fun while the reigns loose in our fingers
“look mom no hands”
But I really don’t want to get all like that
I want to watch the candle burn down to the wick
And light a joint using the last bit of flame
Or heat a spoon whichever is your fancy
The beauty is in our solecisms
The comedy in the autocorrect
Corrected by our own machines recursively
We are in a never-ending project
Of retrofitting meanings to decisions made at whim
Out of necessity
Because the decision must be made
And explained afterwards
God I must sound preachy
I try not to be
Because it’s easier not to care
But harder in practice

Ahem (in your own head)
...........
"AHEM"
Scan your crowd, over the top of your glasses if possible
Tough?
Could be
Depends on who read the resume
On who knows what
On who knows who
On who knows you
This could be a breeze depending whats on offer
Are they here for your wit or for the real thing
This long winded corporate speech, I'm not here to sing
They look like they are tetchy
Some even nonplussed as this is anything but fetching
How to wow a crowd in 5 minutes without sounding preachy
Revert to Powerpoint as a distraction technique
I'm trying to give myself here at the height of my peak
To anyone of any faith, Christian, Muslim or Sikh
The whole point of me being here is to sell my goods to the crowd
I'm here to teach as my product is at its best
You've seen the others all fallen from the same nest
Now look at mine with that extra bit of wow, pizzazz and zest
So this is the part that come Au Natural and you cannot teach
I need the people in front of me in awe and at my feet as this is,

How to Write a Speech....

"Hello....."

JJB

Jude's rant…. Why sitcoms have ruined our lives.

I am really expletive mad at the networks
all they dish out night after night
is ****** sitcoms that stink worse
than a blocked toilet in an Irish bar
on a Sunday morning.

Have you seen what it takes
to make a twelve season hit sitcom.?
I have spent five minutes writing one.

here it is.
it's called

My husband's a total ******.

Characters
Soulful Simon the husband and father.
he is a cat whipped half excuse of a man
whose job it is to always be ******* up
and to submissively take perma **** from his
****** preachy wife.
Donna

His overbearing wife
who makes a full time career  position
staying at home doing absolutely nothing.
Except over managing her two bratty kids
and think up reasons
to cut down on soulful Simon's
meagre *** diet
which consist of  
Saturday night mercy ***.

Donna is also the disciplinarian handing out
punishments to the bratty kids.
like no iPad for twenty minutes
for calling soulful Simon a worthless ****.

This is the main lesson of the show
but I find it a confusing message
Of
if you tell the ****** truth
you lose your iPad for twenty minutes.

Important character traits in show.

father
A total buffoon and useless idiot
that has no say or power in the house.
in days of yore he would wear Harlequin
suit and have a bell on his cap.

Mother
a nasty passive aggressive *****.
who controls most the money
and all the ***.
She must be smart and always right.
She was only wrong once
that was when she was right
and thought she was wrong.

Children
must act like know it all adults
god knows no one else does.

important notes
the laugh machine
must be packed with
Energizer batteries.
if they fail
then the viewers at home
will find out
no one else is laughing either.

Authors note
This carefully scripted
hit plot for sitcom
copyrighted by Jude Kyrie.

I do not want
to see this on the network
without my
One million Dollar  
per episode stipend.

cc my lawyers
Dewey Screwem and Howe

the bindery
of findery
or is it
grindery
we mindery
here
the tray that
taught me something
or the shelf that proved
my eyes are blind
or the hdmi that
morphed
as i watched
into usb
showing
the hallucination
I am now
within
thin always
wraps
your heart
beat anyway

I'm tired of being heavy and wordy and preachy
and getting into debates
just wanting to discuss things
yeah, that's fine sometimes, but too much Plato
and not enough e e cummings
can cause a circuit short in the heart
When you're pumping too much in and out
and Talking Like Everything is Capitalized
and waving your hands
we're looking for some complex meaning to existence
a formula for happiness and our answer is a radical-
what exactly does it mean?
but we forgot in our endless quests for the light at the end of the tunnel
that if we put our ******* shining armor down for just a second
there's a field by our house that calling our name
and the flowers long to dance before your eyes
and the wind asks only this of us
and the grass has made one request:
we need not be too heavy
we need only be light.

One could argue that as you get older, you become a better stoic. Masking your whims, desires and pleasures with logic, reason and meaning. Taking the less scenic route, becoming more utilitarian and the stick that’s up your **** plunges a little further..

And What about the artist that emotionally abuses the kid within and constantly exploits its innocence. Strumming the strings of vulnerability for relatability. Lusting over Monet clouds as painted tears conjure real ones..

Apologies for the preachy undertone, I too buried my cornea in the conneries without a veil, with chin to palm Coveting a utopia. However The dance around the bugbear has since become medieval. I gave it a good hug, tears of tranquility as we initiate the coagulation..

But I need a good light, one that outdoes a good filter. Sending shadows to the creases of the crater. The eclipsed sun carves the frame for a Godlike aesthetic and then I forget to write. Sometimes I forget I’m alive.

For her love is a word
full of emptiness
she fails to
understand
its language
it's too preachy
for her likings
For a little girl
whose father
left her when
she is too young
to even shed a tear
when it's her time
to marvel at the flowers
she is forced to
mourn with them
if at all
she knew
their pain
as they watched
her confused face
but she grew
she learned to act
and learned to frown
she paid her dues
Now she's thick
as a bark
bold and bare
but she's
not without love
What was snatched
from her from the very
beginning
is now returned
in the songs of
egrets and  buzzards
only that
A lotus cannot grow
in clean waters
as much she wants to
But when she blooms
people look at her
in amazement
forgetting
what's around
only she knows
what she's been through
But in the end
a lotus she is...

Success! Progress! The unfinished work of men now dead.
In life each day they lived to be the ones who always led.
Following each day-I swear I wont complain about rain,
The failing now are preached to by those who feel no pain.

They call them "men of power," they worshiped in their might,
Call upon the spirits that do modern science magic every night.
For those of us non-believers, we hold our heads down low,
Not a ***** word, for pity's sake! We're learning to darned slow.

So I am "successful," it plays on in my own mind.
In a while I will be dead, leave this short life behind.
The faithful are now martyrs, they give cash and "daily bread,"
For a common preachy answer from their "son that bled."

But what is success? Can I measure it in meters, in parts?
Can I tell a blind man that he needs faith to walk in the dark?
Or is it only true that we hold our heads up-even fight,
To find a hero that will die for us, instead of keep our sight.

Instant enlightenment
That is, is it
All a lie
Are you, am I
Dressed to the nines
In trendy design
With no place to go
And nothing to mind
You read it here first
For better or worst
A modern-day phenomenon
Packaged perfect to know
Just add water
You’re good to go
Generational gibberish view
Who spurned the denim devils
In you
Bluejean blueprints
Attached to the past  
Of patterns and hues
Sleeve Sloppy revealing
Dribble drool feeling
Seer suckered
Taube tuckered
Unrealing

Take your patchwork punch
Take my cameo role
Handheld scroll
Gently
Poked in a fire of woe
Battle wounded warrior
Drowning to
Federations of fear
Leagues of sometime,
Somewhere
Donuts of denigration
Looking through the whole
Of integration
On a scout mission
Wizards of wondering why
Epiphanies abound.
And in the morning light
Silence is the only sound around
Why wait to get it right?

Oh, preachy poser
Pedantically put
But please just shut-up
If you can’t walk the walk
Don’t talk the talk
  
Up a crazy lazy river
Without a paddle or clue-
And who
Like instant pudding, I do
Instant coffee, too
Instant cake in a cup,
Microwave ready
Brew

Fear I’ve left something out
And nothing will ever do
The instant never needs  
To make-up to something new
And you who
Instantly knew
  
Don’t believe the story.
It’s all a lie
Even if it’s true
Makes a good story
But none of it’s you
Story characters in drag
In a romance novel or two
Only love is real
Or so I’ve been told
Playing a part
That never gets old
Address the unaddressed
Storied mess
Behold

Shakespeare in a silk shirt
Romeo is such a flirt
Juliet’s without regret
And yet
While  
Lost in a speeding train of thought
Took the window seat I bought
Watching the living loving world
Pass by

And I
See waving at me
Michael with a golden sword
Protection from the lord.
Up high
How can this be?

Terrible, terrible low-down lying lizard
Am I
What of it?
Pop-ups  
Worse than infomercials
Role-playing rehearsals
Characters complaining
Insanely blaming
Always trying to please
Never at ease
Never understanding
But, I do
But I lie.
Commas go
Commas die
And
Always a busy but.

I know I should
But, I won’t
I know I could
But I don’t
So, go away with your stuck-up sail
It really is to no avail

Have you seen the broken bandage?
Wrapped around your battered finger
Bleeding
******* breaking
Bad blood oozing
From your packaged refusing
Never mind it was a nice story but was it true  
I never lied to you
I never lied to you
I never would
    
I conjured you
Like genie in a bottle of *****
Intoxicated by a vision of you
  
I know you aren’t doing well
Do tell
You won’t let anyone help
Don’t balk in blue
Think it true
Because you think you are
Only you
Because you are
Scared of what might be
Scared the story might be true
You could be me
Or I could be you  
  
Because the story and the storyteller are one
An Escher drawing
Drawing itself
In two
Two peas in a prissy pod
Pleasing

Have you reconciled your fiction?
Or is this an addiction
Affliction come true
  
Your magical silver moon swaying
Your chalice of still stars staying
Cups of fantasy flowing
Sun spraying days
Tiptoeing
Ways
Neither
Friend nor foe
I’ll never know

Remember the story  
Do you remember
I remember
Nothing’s changed
Tempestuous tweets
Trilling thoughts of verses sweet
For better or worse
If you follow me forever
I will follow you. +-
Forever
Feels like a tall story
It’s a leap of faith
Not a leap off a ten-foot story

Better wait till the morning
Light.

i'm trying to remember all the times
i was "subject"
to... being... assiociate
with a mis-application of ethnicity...
i'd walk down edgware rd.
with a half-Indian half-scouser
girlfriend, and i'd be approached
by muslim street preachy-vendors
being asked:
are you German?
   and i was like: internal dialogue:
iz ziß ver v vype ut
zee Ju?
i always replied: guess...
counter to German,
i woz eh Schveed...
             i gave up...
        but after a few more instances...
i voz alvayz: die deutsche...
oh... you think that the English
are no suspect?
   the innocence of being asked:
where are you from?
will always be countered
with... Leibzig...
or... Kiel...
               i almost felt like
an actor... all that was missing
was the schutzstaffel uniform
and a smirk of a catholic schoolboy
from: Witten, Bavaria...
oh... not unlike the reaction
from the movie falling down,
where some poor schmuck
gets lectured on the distinction
between a Japean and Korean
(does anyone really need
the correct -ese, "person"?) -
we all know that the ****
think they are the master race of
the asians...
so... why bother?
but i was kindly reminded,
the Muslims were all wet *****
asking me: are you zee gerrrrrrman?
you know how painful
it sometimes is...
        to play out the expected
question to the questioner's
leveling of surprise?
for me?
that's like asking me whether
i'm a ******* rushkie...
             no... i am not part
of any... "ummah"...
                      wasn't the dajjal supposed
to arrive from Babylon,
as the head of the Iranian army?
so i nod,
yes, i'm German,
and in England that's like:
visa...
     or... something that
the post-colonial former powers
do not fathom...
Germany might have given
birth to the Nazis...
but it didn't give birth
to the colonial bureaucrat...
feeble... a reader of Kant...
like me...
          whatever cocktail
of ****-wits and party-pleasers
is to come out of all this...
20 years into the 21st, grand opera,
of a century to end all centuries...
most of the time...
it's better that these
people understand that i am German
than figure out:
exotica postcard from
the nowhere that's Poland...
like: kommensie um! kommensie um!
like some hanzel und gretyl
witch...
          i play the German...
back where:
i'm just the "failed" generic
                                         similar...
but no...
i could tell apart a Thai from a ***...
and a *** from a Ching...
maybe...
but then a Maroccan from
a Libyan from an Iraqi
from a Saudi from a Yemenese?
well...
   am i alone?
looks like most of these, people,
can't tell the difference between
a German and a ******...
so...
                 what?
and more notably...
                               what?
           oh right... there's also a "now"?
pull me a sly Bogart
will you...
                 i need to forget
that James Bond didn't really exist...
*******... carry on Casablanca!
that's all that James Bond
ever was...
        carry on! Casablanca.

When you say her name,
            I think I feel a sound.

A sad girl-
             years of age & all that Blow.

Dancing in circles & long ,
         f   l   o   w  i   n  g
cliches.

But you tell me you don't give power to
       slight idiosyncrasies.

"I didn't go that way."

Yet
       all those years it was kept alive
                      with that Brown stuff.

You know, darling,
                  you can always go deeper into the matter.

Sending generic Buddhist quotes and preachy Karma
                 at 3 AM.

You rustle in our bed.
                            

                                             I feel so kind.


Giving different names for the same disorder.


In the end,

she's nothing but a
                    
                                            Fawn.

its seems like you have something more to say
and i am here to listen
i'm interested in you
like i always have been
but the walls you've built
have few missing bricks for looking in
it felt nice the last time
calm and patient
we listened, responded
never preachy or judgmental
a rare freshness
a cloudless sky
the cleanest air
that was nice

“Weaponization” has been weaponized
So that a shutting down may be shut down
By weaponizing a shutdown’s downside -
And let The People shout “Absolutely!”

By weaponizing one’s feelings and whims
There is projected a transparency
That calls for a personal comfort snake -
And let The People shout “Actually!”

So please shut down the shutdown; that’s the tonic -
And let The People shout “Iconic!”


A consideration made after reading Alan Glyn’s thoughtful essay, “Conspiracy Fiction Once Helped Us Tell the Truth. Now It’s a Weapon for Liars,”  in Vulture: https://www.vulture.com/2019/01/can-conspiracy-thrillers-work-under-a-conspiracy-presidency.html.­  

The title is preachy and too long, reflecting the heavy hand of an editor, but the essay is most interesting.