"precedents" poems - Hello Poetry

"precedents" poems

beyond Montana’s yellow lines there is a field ~a field of painted soles and laces rubber tread ~a field of ****** curls and fallen headlights where kaleidoscope lenses look onto twisted frames like origami halos where teddy bears hug stop signs like pickets fringed in anger runaway childhoods sleep cautionary tales beyond Montana’s blushing acne there are red cup melodies blasting from blacked out tints weaving blues notes through Rock & Rap distant cries are drowned by Bass or maybe Bud (light) a haze of teenage eyes they might as well be ghost riders whip game copped from GTA these pubescents are a Vice to their City blooming sidewalk sloths like flowerbeds beyond Montana is a country of bar stools where bar tenders play therapists and therapists play coroners precedents are shots of whiskey - taken to the head and reflected in flooded eyes beyond Montana is a country of MADD mothers and SADD students beyond Montana is a country of unexpecting pedestrians beyond Montana is a field ~a field of wing-clipped snow angels That field is Mariah's home now and she challenges you to change yourself your friends your country she challenges you to STOP DRUNK DRIVING

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Jan 6, 2013

Jan 6, 2013 at 2:22 PM UTC

Mariah's Challenge

beyond Montana’s yellow lines there is a field ~a field of painted soles and laces rubber tread ~a field of ****** curls and fallen headlights where kaleidoscope lenses look onto twisted frames like origami halos where teddy bears hug stop signs like pickets fringed in anger runaway childhoods sleep cautionary tales beyond Montana’s blushing acne there are red cup melodies blasting from blacked out tints weaving blues notes through Rock & Rap distant cries are drowned by Bass or maybe Bud (light) a haze of teenage eyes they might as well be ghost riders whip game copped from GTA these pubescents are a Vice to their City blooming sidewalk sloths like flowerbeds beyond Montana is a country of bar stools where bar tenders play therapists and therapists play coroners precedents are shots of whiskey - taken to the head and reflected in flooded eyes beyond Montana is a country of MADD mothers and SADD students beyond Montana is a country of unexpecting pedestrians beyond Montana is a field ~a field of wing-clipped snow angels That field is Mariah's home now and she challenges you to change yourself your friends your country she challenges you to STOP DRUNK DRIVING

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Pradip is newborn (impossible wisdom) “a new day, a new chance for my soul... to heed a small voice ... to give flowers, to plant new seeds. to not trample on wildflowers and unwanted weeds...” Sally “Sweet baby with your head on my shoulder I'm no more growing older...” Pradip ~ the unpredictability and randomness of the winds, seed carriers, of small voices, yearning to be heard, powerless in appearance only, for within are powers superior heroic, who can grow others who can feed who can sustain multiple living creatures each seed unique, a poem composed and complete, authored by precedents, authorized by predecessors, utilizing the cocoon of soil and sun, rainwater from space and deep driven to the clear milk of underground railroad rivers, to give nurture to its revisional generational code these new children of an old mix, are quiet lifesavers giving proofs positive, that those who will one day grow old, with deep gnarled roots, are most capable of finding ways of manufacturing fresh youth whim within, to those who give babies homage, in attendance this then the newborn miracle, the new seed, wind borne, replants itself in old soil, taking but more so giving, injecting bits of vitality into its arterial ancestry, how can this be?*** *I do not know the why or the how, but am evidence of the therefore, and the thereafter, of impossible wisdom* 7:07am 4-5-19 a newborn poem for poetry passing grandparents

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Apr 5, 2019

Apr 5, 2019 at 7:19 AM UTC

Pradip is newborn (impossible wisdom)

Pradip is newborn (impossible wisdom) “a new day, a new chance for my soul... to heed a small voice ... to give flowers, to plant new seeds. to not trample on wildflowers and unwanted weeds...” Sally “Sweet baby with your head on my shoulder I'm no more growing older...” Pradip ~ the unpredictability and randomness of the winds, seed carriers, of small voices, yearning to be heard, powerless in appearance only, for within are powers superior heroic, who can grow others who can feed who can sustain multiple living creatures each seed unique, a poem composed and complete, authored by precedents, authorized by predecessors, utilizing the cocoon of soil and sun, rainwater from space and deep driven to the clear milk of underground railroad rivers, to give nurture to its revisional generational code these new children of an old mix, are quiet lifesavers giving proofs positive, that those who will one day grow old, with deep gnarled roots, are most capable of finding ways of manufacturing fresh youth whim within, to those who give babies homage, in attendance this then the newborn miracle, the new seed, wind borne, replants itself in old soil, taking but more so giving, injecting bits of vitality into its arterial ancestry, how can this be?*** *I do not know the why or the how, but am evidence of the therefore, and the thereafter, of impossible wisdom* 7:07am 4-5-19 a newborn poem for poetry passing grandparents

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There's a city glowing in my ears, biting blur of the nightlife. Figure I've been here for a while. My supplies were piled high, now they're in short supply and I'm high. The walls of my apartment are red. I wait until the streetlights flick on before I flip into a somersault, I wait until the streetlights flick on before I call you out tonight. The walls of my apartment are red. Dead presidents, don't answer for me, I paint the walls red. Dead presidents couldn't have seen it coming, I paint the walls red. Dead precedents, don't correct me. Could have been a fool, could have been a rule you didn't know, so when your friends are wrong sing a song that won't offend anyone. You kept me waiting for hours, you were shining. In a dress like blood and flowers, you were shining. You better sell it hard tonight. The walls of my apartment are red.

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Mar 16, 2011

Mar 16, 2011 at 8:55 AM UTC

shashank-virkud-1

There's a city glowing in my ears, biting blur of the nightlife. Figure I've been here for a while. My supplies were piled high, now they're in short supply and I'm high. The walls of my apartment are red. I wait until the streetlights flick on before I flip into a somersault, I wait until the streetlights flick on before I call you out tonight. The walls of my apartment are red. Dead presidents, don't answer for me, I paint the walls red. Dead presidents couldn't have seen it coming, I paint the walls red. Dead precedents, don't correct me. Could have been a fool, could have been a rule you didn't know, so when your friends are wrong sing a song that won't offend anyone. You kept me waiting for hours, you were shining. In a dress like blood and flowers, you were shining. You better sell it hard tonight. The walls of my apartment are red.

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Damaged trust and marriage schemes Held hostage in each others' dreams Pinned to walls but flailing still Forgotten values, failing wills True love waits, we tell ourselves True love gladly stacks the shelves True love sets conditions and True love does the dishes and Slowly, slowly, we forget Just why we're here and who we met Another notch in wrinkled frowns Where I keep getting lost and found In roller-coaster ups and downs I'm lost and lost and lost and found Missing flights and toxic tongues Catharsis found in tar-filled lungs I lost myself in who I wasn't And in what true love does and doesn't Not quite gaslit, not quite safe Playing back the ancient tape We envy death for constancy- Besmirching our own consciences We forgo our emoluments Too traumatized by precedents But hush you tell me, no one knows The pretzel-bending ways we grow Forever twisting round and round Lost and lost and lost and found Now freaking out, now breaking down Now glaciers found in evening gowns Now agonizing 'Who am I?'s Now dying fire in your eyes At last the sunset settles debts We tally up our last regrets Relenting to incessant ghosts Abandoning essential posts 'Til all that's left is loss and hurt It burns and burns and burns and burns And now I choke on orders filled And mourn alone the youth we killed I scrape the comb across my nettles Pricking feelings, bleeding mettle Finally free from ups and downs, I find myself on solid ground

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Oct 2, 2018

Oct 2, 2018 at 10:52 PM UTC

the-knave-of-spades

Lost and Lost and Lost and Found

Damaged trust and marriage schemes Held hostage in each others' dreams Pinned to walls but flailing still Forgotten values, failing wills True love waits, we tell ourselves True love gladly stacks the shelves True love sets conditions and True love does the dishes and Slowly, slowly, we forget Just why we're here and who we met Another notch in wrinkled frowns Where I keep getting lost and found In roller-coaster ups and downs I'm lost and lost and lost and found Missing flights and toxic tongues Catharsis found in tar-filled lungs I lost myself in who I wasn't And in what true love does and doesn't Not quite gaslit, not quite safe Playing back the ancient tape We envy death for constancy- Besmirching our own consciences We forgo our emoluments Too traumatized by precedents But hush you tell me, no one knows The pretzel-bending ways we grow Forever twisting round and round Lost and lost and lost and found Now freaking out, now breaking down Now glaciers found in evening gowns Now agonizing 'Who am I?'s Now dying fire in your eyes At last the sunset settles debts We tally up our last regrets Relenting to incessant ghosts Abandoning essential posts 'Til all that's left is loss and hurt It burns and burns and burns and burns And now I choke on orders filled And mourn alone the youth we killed I scrape the comb across my nettles Pricking feelings, bleeding mettle Finally free from ups and downs, I find myself on solid ground

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WE sat together at one summer's end, That beautiful mild woman, your close friend, And you and I, and talked of poetry. I said, "A line will take us hours maybe; Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought, Our stitching and unstitching has been naught. Better go down upon your marrow-bones And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones Like an old pauper, in all kinds of weather; For to articulate sweet sounds together Is to work harder than all these, and yet Be thought an idler by the noisy set Of bankers, schoolmasters, and clergymen The martyrs call the world.' And thereupon That beautiful mild woman for whose sake There's many a one shall find out all heartache On finding that her voice is sweet and low Replied, "To be born woman is to know -- Although they do not talk of it at school -- That we must labour to be beautiful.' I said, "It's certain there is no fine thing Since Adam's fall but needs much labouring. There have been lovers who thought love should be So much compounded of high courtesy That they would sigh and quote with learned looks precedents out of beautiful old books; Yet now it seems an idle trade enough.' We sat grown quiet at the name of love; We saw the last embers of daylight die, And in the trembling blue-green of the sky A moon, worn as if it had been a shell Washed by time's waters as they rose and fell About the stars and broke in days and years. I had a thought for no one's but your ears: That you were beautiful, and that I strove To love you in the old high way of love; That it had all seemed happy, and yet we'd grown As weary-hearted as that hollow moon.

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2k

William Butler Yeats

WE sat together at one summer's end, That beautiful mild woman, your close friend, And you and I, and talked of poetry. I said, "A line will take us hours maybe; Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought, Our stitching and unstitching has been naught. Better go down upon your marrow-bones And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones Like an old pauper, in all kinds of weather; For to articulate sweet sounds together Is to work harder than all these, and yet Be thought an idler by the noisy set Of bankers, schoolmasters, and clergymen The martyrs call the world.' And thereupon That beautiful mild woman for whose sake There's many a one shall find out all heartache On finding that her voice is sweet and low Replied, "To be born woman is to know -- Although they do not talk of it at school -- That we must labour to be beautiful.' I said, "It's certain there is no fine thing Since Adam's fall but needs much labouring. There have been lovers who thought love should be So much compounded of high courtesy That they would sigh and quote with learned looks precedents out of beautiful old books; Yet now it seems an idle trade enough.' We sat grown quiet at the name of love; We saw the last embers of daylight die, And in the trembling blue-green of the sky A moon, worn as if it had been a shell Washed by time's waters as they rose and fell About the stars and broke in days and years. I had a thought for no one's but your ears: That you were beautiful, and that I strove To love you in the old high way of love; That it had all seemed happy, and yet we'd grown As weary-hearted as that hollow moon.

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all my poems are unique general principles ~for Helene Mendelsohn~ “A general principle never comes to life in my mind except by exhibiting itself in various special forms and in crowds of instances for each form": R.G. Collingwood each a construct - an arch-i-texture, each a crowd of a single instance special forum, a dialogue differentiation, a conjugate particle, forming up, in marching order, a singular troop, a base case singular, a soldier especially demanding, “Of Me, Write, Write” for within my insight, a one-off sighting, one glinting wave reflecting, its one millisecond exactitude of existence, reforming unseemly, a new but not! a seemingly similar shifted shape, but no wave is a precision repetition, perhaps a passing familiarity of its precedents, antecedents, at best an instance borrowed and paid back to the generosity of time for a fully developed statement of a general principle, even a primary secondary textual emendation, requires a unique naming definition being born and dead dying while you are blinking, does not understate absolute value, a principle exists to give absolution, so the moments resets, perpetually, but its own resolution is n’err forgotten do you see the crowd of inferences herein contained? the principal unique, poem plucked from passing sun ray, a tickling hair of a brazen breeze, one wave, one wave reconstituting a millennium of preceding lives, deriving its abbreviated genealogy of droplets of prior principles forever reinterpreted so I gave you back words you knew but in a new combination establishing this poem, its constituents, as a unique general principle there is a prior poem, new, unique in everything

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Jul 21, 2019

Jul 21, 2019 at 10:06 AM UTC

all my poems are unique general principles

all my poems are unique general principles ~for Helene Mendelsohn~ “A general principle never comes to life in my mind except by exhibiting itself in various special forms and in crowds of instances for each form": R.G. Collingwood each a construct - an arch-i-texture, each a crowd of a single instance special forum, a dialogue differentiation, a conjugate particle, forming up, in marching order, a singular troop, a base case singular, a soldier especially demanding, “Of Me, Write, Write” for within my insight, a one-off sighting, one glinting wave reflecting, its one millisecond exactitude of existence, reforming unseemly, a new but not! a seemingly similar shifted shape, but no wave is a precision repetition, perhaps a passing familiarity of its precedents, antecedents, at best an instance borrowed and paid back to the generosity of time for a fully developed statement of a general principle, even a primary secondary textual emendation, requires a unique naming definition being born and dead dying while you are blinking, does not understate absolute value, a principle exists to give absolution, so the moments resets, perpetually, but its own resolution is n’err forgotten do you see the crowd of inferences herein contained? the principal unique, poem plucked from passing sun ray, a tickling hair of a brazen breeze, one wave, one wave reconstituting a millennium of preceding lives, deriving its abbreviated genealogy of droplets of prior principles forever reinterpreted so I gave you back words you knew but in a new combination establishing this poem, its constituents, as a unique general principle there is a prior poem, new, unique in everything

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I've been searching all life long Placing my bets Amidst all my missteps Listening to the same ol' song Dancing on gass soaked briquettes Risky as it gets Find me between right and wrong Racking up debts And future regrets My self hatred is strong Setting precedents With no true benefits Only ever told I'm wrong No corrective steps Only more empty threats Just wanted to belong But that's too complex Don't want to know what's next... ...out beyond the smouldering bridges and life threatening safety nets... ...my residence ©2024

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Jan 1, 2024

Jan 1, 2024 at 6:38 PM UTC

~•§•~ My Residence ~•§•~

I've been searching all life long Placing my bets Amidst all my missteps Listening to the same ol' song Dancing on gass soaked briquettes Risky as it gets Find me between right and wrong Racking up debts And future regrets My self hatred is strong Setting precedents With no true benefits Only ever told I'm wrong No corrective steps Only more empty threats Just wanted to belong But that's too complex Don't want to know what's next... ...out beyond the smouldering bridges and life threatening safety nets... ...my residence ©2024

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With wild teased hair, bright orange, and wearing shoes too big, The clown abandoned Ringling to take on a new gig. He was not content to pay his rent, like others of his “race”, By acting in the remake of “killer clowns from outer space” Nor would he do kids’ parties although he is no slouch at raising fears that will take years to solve upon a couch . With wild teased hair, a bright red nose and makeup piled on thick, This clown decamped to Washington to try out his new Shtick. With Eddie Munster as his pal, new laws he would propose, that Femes, dressed as Vaginas, would vociferously oppose. He’d surround himself with Sycophants but will not get too far as, unlike his former colleagues, they don’t all fit in one car. The clown claims he can build a wall to keep out one and all, and he has a herd of Elephants at his beck and call. He rules our land by fiat, as delay he can’t abide He is a textbook narcissist with an overweening pride. Minnesota has Al Franken as a Senator of course And, back in Roman times, the purple was worn by a horse. So one might say that precedents exist for this strange thing; for a clown to wield a scepter and rule over us as king.

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Feb 1, 2017

Feb 1, 2017 at 7:31 AM UTC

john-f-mccullagh

With wild teased hair, bright orange, and wearing shoes too big, The clown abandoned Ringling to take on a new gig. He was not content to pay his rent, like others of his “race”, By acting in the remake of “killer clowns from outer space” Nor would he do kids’ parties although he is no slouch at raising fears that will take years to solve upon a couch . With wild teased hair, a bright red nose and makeup piled on thick, This clown decamped to Washington to try out his new Shtick. With Eddie Munster as his pal, new laws he would propose, that Femes, dressed as Vaginas, would vociferously oppose. He’d surround himself with Sycophants but will not get too far as, unlike his former colleagues, they don’t all fit in one car. The clown claims he can build a wall to keep out one and all, and he has a herd of Elephants at his beck and call. He rules our land by fiat, as delay he can’t abide He is a textbook narcissist with an overweening pride. Minnesota has Al Franken as a Senator of course And, back in Roman times, the purple was worn by a horse. So one might say that precedents exist for this strange thing; for a clown to wield a scepter and rule over us as king.

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you are a complex circuitry of veins and arteries a compendium of extremities and intimacies you are either a trillion accidents or a single success a whisper of life or a shattering of precedents your structure is art your conception a masterpiece mechanically, you are beautiful the core of this existence is uncertainty does your rib cage shiver around the catechisms? at your worst, you are the part that can not be cut open the part that can die before the body your existence is a war a perennial blooming and crumbling your mind and body's slow destruction flinging themselves together and apart

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Jun 12, 2013

Jun 12, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC

you are a complex circuitry of veins and arteries a compendium of extremities and intimacies you are either a trillion accidents or a single success a whisper of life or a shattering of precedents your structure is art your conception a masterpiece mechanically, you are beautiful the core of this existence is uncertainty does your rib cage shiver around the catechisms? at your worst, you are the part that can not be cut open the part that can die before the body your existence is a war a perennial blooming and crumbling your mind and body's slow destruction flinging themselves together and apart

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That's the thing, we did it to be free. We wanted to be liberated, to not have to take no for an answer. We did it so that we could taste the fruit without fear. It was easy. I can show you. Others may think it wrong, but to us they were movers and shakers. The precedents setting standards. And we wanted to be like them. We did it for the Innocent and the ****** We did it for the young and dying. We did it for the ones who think they're king and for the rebellion. We did it in honor of the sinners and the righteous ones. I did it for you and me. So call us guilty and we'll face judgment, but that's why we did it. We just wanted to be free.

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Oct 20, 2014

Oct 20, 2014 at 7:43 PM UTC

sonya-rae-schement

We Did It For Freedom

That's the thing, we did it to be free. We wanted to be liberated, to not have to take no for an answer. We did it so that we could taste the fruit without fear. It was easy. I can show you. Others may think it wrong, but to us they were movers and shakers. The precedents setting standards. And we wanted to be like them. We did it for the Innocent and the ****** We did it for the young and dying. We did it for the ones who think they're king and for the rebellion. We did it in honor of the sinners and the righteous ones. I did it for you and me. So call us guilty and we'll face judgment, but that's why we did it. We just wanted to be free.

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Behind the extreme luster of pearl of the orient sea tons of covenants, precedents, and laws But why O' why I unfailingly see the same pathway to exiguity

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Jun 26, 2014

Jun 26, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC

jekk-mickale-h-paderes

Faint Over the Glaze

Behind the extreme luster of pearl of the orient sea tons of covenants, precedents, and laws But why O' why I unfailingly see the same pathway to exiguity

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So When It Comes To My Poems... And The Things I Express... What My Poems Project... Are Lyrical Blends.... of POWER And STRENGTH... !!! That PROVE I’m A Poet... Whose Verse Is POTENT... !!! Because It’s Content... Has High Levels of DEPTH... !!! Did You Catch What I Said... ?!? … HIGH Levels of DEPTH... !!!!!!! Paradoxically Speaking... So You See What I Write... Has MULTIPLE Meanings... And Various Rhymes... That Prove That My Mind... Is Deep And Invites... DEEP Levels of Thought... For Those Who Absorb... What My Poems Draw... Within Their Depictions... of How We Are Living... My Verse Can Be RAW... But Mostly Contorts... Like Those Who Distort... What Newsrooms Report... That Many Now Think... ... ISN’T True ANYMORE... !!! Because Most of It STINKS... of Reports That Seem FLAWED... !!! With Opinions Now BOUGHT... By Those Who ENSURE... !!! That Things Should Stay Hidden... When These Things Are RIDDEN ... With... CORRUPTED Visions... And Missions Where Killings... Should NOT Be Permitted... Because They’re FORBIDDEN... !!! EVEN In... Wars... That Reach Foreign Shores... Corruption Runs Deep... In Police And Armies... !!! And Only Gets Seen... LONG AFTER BAD DEEDS... Have Made People Bleed... !!! So My Poetry Feeds... On Corrupt Policies... And STATES That Are DEEP... Like These... Conspiracies... !!!!!! That Are Now Being Spread... Via The... Internet... Some That Lack Depth... !!! But Some That Present... The Type of Content... That Now Clearly UPSETS... The Calmest of Heads... !!!!!! When These Internet Trends... Show What Is... INCORRECT... !!! Or Is That... CORRECT... ?!? Well Fake News Is Here... And Fake News Is There... And Some Is Subject... To Just Breeding FEAR... !!! And Now Traps Are Set... To Catch Heads Who Steer... Fake News To The Ears... And Eyes of Their Peers... You See Much We’re Now Seeing... Is Deep With Things Leaning... Towards Some Poor Teachings... And Things That Need Screening... Like Movies Now Streaming... On Websites Online... Where Minds Seem Inclined... To BELIEVE ANYTHING... !?! That Comes From The Links... That Many Now... Click... To Inform What They Think... Well I’m A REALIST... !!! So My Lyrical Scripts... Deal In Thinking That’s Deep... Like Today’s Protests Scenes... About Things Like Vaccines... And Police Who Use Knees... And Yes... BRUTALITY... !!! That Makes People ANGRY... In Homes And On Streets... !!! So Now That This Poem... Is Reaching It’s End... It's Final Subject... That Encompasses DEPTH... Are These Corona Deaths... And How They've Distressed... EVERYONE From *** To... Heads In Congress... !!! Who Will Now Accept... This Vaccine That’s SAID... To Be Ready For Heads... To Accept And INGEST... As The Best Way To STOP... This Viruses Spread... !!! A Form of Defence... That Could Set Precedents... That Could Change Things In Ways... That May NOT Be So Great... !?! UNLIKE My Poems... That Go To Great Lengths... To Use Common Sense... As Well As... Intellect... And Of Course One More Thing.... That Was Earlier Said... Within... THIS Poem... HIGH Levels of..... ....... “ Depth “......

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Sep 22, 2021

Sep 22, 2021 at 9:17 PM UTC

“Depth” ... A Poem written by Big Virge 20/11/2020

So When It Comes To My Poems... And The Things I Express... What My Poems Project... Are Lyrical Blends.... of POWER And STRENGTH... !!! That PROVE I’m A Poet... Whose Verse Is POTENT... !!! Because It’s Content... Has High Levels of DEPTH... !!! Did You Catch What I Said... ?!? … HIGH Levels of DEPTH... !!!!!!! Paradoxically Speaking... So You See What I Write... Has MULTIPLE Meanings... And Various Rhymes... That Prove That My Mind... Is Deep And Invites... DEEP Levels of Thought... For Those Who Absorb... What My Poems Draw... Within Their Depictions... of How We Are Living... My Verse Can Be RAW... But Mostly Contorts... Like Those Who Distort... What Newsrooms Report... That Many Now Think... ... ISN’T True ANYMORE... !!! Because Most of It STINKS... of Reports That Seem FLAWED... !!! With Opinions Now BOUGHT... By Those Who ENSURE... !!! That Things Should Stay Hidden... When These Things Are RIDDEN ... With... CORRUPTED Visions... And Missions Where Killings... Should NOT Be Permitted... Because They’re FORBIDDEN... !!! EVEN In... Wars... That Reach Foreign Shores... Corruption Runs Deep... In Police And Armies... !!! And Only Gets Seen... LONG AFTER BAD DEEDS... Have Made People Bleed... !!! So My Poetry Feeds... On Corrupt Policies... And STATES That Are DEEP... Like These... Conspiracies... !!!!!! That Are Now Being Spread... Via The... Internet... Some That Lack Depth... !!! But Some That Present... The Type of Content... That Now Clearly UPSETS... The Calmest of Heads... !!!!!! When These Internet Trends... Show What Is... INCORRECT... !!! Or Is That... CORRECT... ?!? Well Fake News Is Here... And Fake News Is There... And Some Is Subject... To Just Breeding FEAR... !!! And Now Traps Are Set... To Catch Heads Who Steer... Fake News To The Ears... And Eyes of Their Peers... You See Much We’re Now Seeing... Is Deep With Things Leaning... Towards Some Poor Teachings... And Things That Need Screening... Like Movies Now Streaming... On Websites Online... Where Minds Seem Inclined... To BELIEVE ANYTHING... !?! That Comes From The Links... That Many Now... Click... To Inform What They Think... Well I’m A REALIST... !!! So My Lyrical Scripts... Deal In Thinking That’s Deep... Like Today’s Protests Scenes... About Things Like Vaccines... And Police Who Use Knees... And Yes... BRUTALITY... !!! That Makes People ANGRY... In Homes And On Streets... !!! So Now That This Poem... Is Reaching It’s End... It's Final Subject... That Encompasses DEPTH... Are These Corona Deaths... And How They've Distressed... EVERYONE From *** To... Heads In Congress... !!! Who Will Now Accept... This Vaccine That’s SAID... To Be Ready For Heads... To Accept And INGEST... As The Best Way To STOP... This Viruses Spread... !!! A Form of Defence... That Could Set Precedents... That Could Change Things In Ways... That May NOT Be So Great... !?! UNLIKE My Poems... That Go To Great Lengths... To Use Common Sense... As Well As... Intellect... And Of Course One More Thing.... That Was Earlier Said... Within... THIS Poem... HIGH Levels of..... ....... “ Depth “......

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https://soundcloud.com/spiritbarehear/meta-4-4-time meet me at the morphosis suckin on our cherry pits sun melted away our icycled veins clorphylled up minds unconcerned with measurement leave our woes behind to wither with our precedents our guards are on vacation changing of a nation through the power of this entity of love my love it's not for me it seems not to guide me to prosperity not to satisfy my wants give yours away and you'll get more of the winds of change are blowing here tell your girl she's not to fear the ending of a page the boggling of brains london bridge is falling down but we'll make a louder sound to create a wave we'll struggle a lot but they'll wash away we will be the living dream forever to grow already blossoming our hunger will sustain the changing of this game explode implode cause a scene ignorance is all they're conducting the pyramid design was fine 8 billion sheep all fed with lies but the winds of change are blowing here tell your girl she's not to fear the ending of a page the boggling of brains london bridge is falling down but we'll make a louder sound to create a wave we'll struggle a lot but they'll wash away

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Jan 25, 2014

Jan 25, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC

https://soundcloud.com/spiritbarehear/meta-4-4-time meet me at the morphosis suckin on our cherry pits sun melted away our icycled veins clorphylled up minds unconcerned with measurement leave our woes behind to wither with our precedents our guards are on vacation changing of a nation through the power of this entity of love my love it's not for me it seems not to guide me to prosperity not to satisfy my wants give yours away and you'll get more of the winds of change are blowing here tell your girl she's not to fear the ending of a page the boggling of brains london bridge is falling down but we'll make a louder sound to create a wave we'll struggle a lot but they'll wash away we will be the living dream forever to grow already blossoming our hunger will sustain the changing of this game explode implode cause a scene ignorance is all they're conducting the pyramid design was fine 8 billion sheep all fed with lies but the winds of change are blowing here tell your girl she's not to fear the ending of a page the boggling of brains london bridge is falling down but we'll make a louder sound to create a wave we'll struggle a lot but they'll wash away

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How long has it been? Days, weeks, millennia? Ways speaks to character Methods of ingress Or egress Or regrets about time spent In the pursuit of something wholly less valuable Something less palpable Less tactile More senile My words have hit walls at high speeds Left bleeding on the pavement Leading on the evening news Amongst the views of corporate hucksters And genuine accidents Dodgy precedents set by corrupt intuition What am I even saying These nonsensical ramblings Born of too much time and too little patience Have swallowed my cognition Until I dribble to a halt The moon is out tonight

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Jan 23, 2013

Jan 23, 2013 at 5:36 AM UTC

A Pointless Ramble

How long has it been? Days, weeks, millennia? Ways speaks to character Methods of ingress Or egress Or regrets about time spent In the pursuit of something wholly less valuable Something less palpable Less tactile More senile My words have hit walls at high speeds Left bleeding on the pavement Leading on the evening news Amongst the views of corporate hucksters And genuine accidents Dodgy precedents set by corrupt intuition What am I even saying These nonsensical ramblings Born of too much time and too little patience Have swallowed my cognition Until I dribble to a halt The moon is out tonight

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She always thinks I'm two steps away from the door But I'm not. I'm secure with two feet on floorboards, Scoreboards painted with permanent scores we forgot. Permanent residence, precedents set by our parents, Hesitant pecks on the terrace. We're all just specks on a Ferris wheel, Careless, real, with empty eyes, ever open. Forget the divers; Empathize with the ocean. Plagiarize with emotion. The boy who tells you to stop is more lost than you are, More Boston, and too far from devotion to breathe. You don’t need him. Take my advice, Like a traveling salesman in a baffling city. The path isn't pretty, But the destination is beautiful.

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Dec 30, 2014

Dec 30, 2014 at 7:11 PM UTC

robert-joseph-hoffman-jr

She always thinks I'm two steps away from the door But I'm not. I'm secure with two feet on floorboards, Scoreboards painted with permanent scores we forgot. Permanent residence, precedents set by our parents, Hesitant pecks on the terrace. We're all just specks on a Ferris wheel, Careless, real, with empty eyes, ever open. Forget the divers; Empathize with the ocean. Plagiarize with emotion. The boy who tells you to stop is more lost than you are, More Boston, and too far from devotion to breathe. You don’t need him. Take my advice, Like a traveling salesman in a baffling city. The path isn't pretty, But the destination is beautiful.

Continue reading...

the keystone walls melting on on its of gold, taking their glistening edges, spreading all over, the foxes dipping in their hands in the outrage chase, dodging the bulders, putting down the poison that looks like the puddy, passing on the next seed, ears perked up, hunger and pity in the eyes, jesus I speak then I speak too quickly then I don’t speak quickly enough, wanting a few words to help me get through, but find that the words fall then the predictable precedents I’ve set for myself come back in a rush, and those who I at once thought were on my side have been injested, and I have become bigger, and even more confused. The swag is definite, and I have a few directions, then I pull ojn the tabs and suddenly I’m back with some of my pals, hey arnold preaching his word, his riches heir, poetry and padding patty and curly, punching me in the gut, great little suite in a little niche, its the life, what do I compare the next thing to, the abstract seems even more real than any joke falling on an audience, with a dead face that gets a chuckle and the band falls on the downbeat, a dance to distract from the lack of content where am I coming from? Complete utter confusion, questions upon questions, leading me with no prejudice, missing the sweetness of pre-judgment, how it helped me get through days and dismiss, where is jesus? I’m lucifer, pesticide and bourbon and swanky classes sketching hateful remarks into the desk ******* off professor clawson, sent to the office of vice principal dawson, not the alpha but the cronie who worships, trouble with no proper attention, tar with no high, get used to the asphalt,

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Jan 25, 2015

Jan 25, 2015 at 7:36 PM UTC

The melting *** the growth, the reflection

the keystone walls melting on on its of gold, taking their glistening edges, spreading all over, the foxes dipping in their hands in the outrage chase, dodging the bulders, putting down the poison that looks like the puddy, passing on the next seed, ears perked up, hunger and pity in the eyes, jesus I speak then I speak too quickly then I don’t speak quickly enough, wanting a few words to help me get through, but find that the words fall then the predictable precedents I’ve set for myself come back in a rush, and those who I at once thought were on my side have been injested, and I have become bigger, and even more confused. The swag is definite, and I have a few directions, then I pull ojn the tabs and suddenly I’m back with some of my pals, hey arnold preaching his word, his riches heir, poetry and padding patty and curly, punching me in the gut, great little suite in a little niche, its the life, what do I compare the next thing to, the abstract seems even more real than any joke falling on an audience, with a dead face that gets a chuckle and the band falls on the downbeat, a dance to distract from the lack of content where am I coming from? Complete utter confusion, questions upon questions, leading me with no prejudice, missing the sweetness of pre-judgment, how it helped me get through days and dismiss, where is jesus? I’m lucifer, pesticide and bourbon and swanky classes sketching hateful remarks into the desk ******* off professor clawson, sent to the office of vice principal dawson, not the alpha but the cronie who worships, trouble with no proper attention, tar with no high, get used to the asphalt,

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Yesterday I raced to get to the air pregnant, awoke early to get to the starting line, vacant pavement. Today I wanted a new beginning, to be awake finally, to the erasure of all things, precedents, that make desires incredible. The sun gives light, like fresh batteries. Who did fashion who, sun fashion man, did man fashion sun, did man work himself to get grace from the sun, did sun work sun to be good for man, or did air work both sun and man, to be it's good children. The fashions do change, but one thing remains the same, man is in a world well suited for new beginnings.

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Jul 12, 2013

Jul 12, 2013 at 1:43 PM UTC

Thinking About Many Things

Yesterday I raced to get to the air pregnant, awoke early to get to the starting line, vacant pavement. Today I wanted a new beginning, to be awake finally, to the erasure of all things, precedents, that make desires incredible. The sun gives light, like fresh batteries. Who did fashion who, sun fashion man, did man fashion sun, did man work himself to get grace from the sun, did sun work sun to be good for man, or did air work both sun and man, to be it's good children. The fashions do change, but one thing remains the same, man is in a world well suited for new beginnings.

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The struggle’s made vivid Played out in a telecast The boundaries made rigid Erecting a minted sociopath Swallowing sick lies at the mercy of a pint Regurgitating references made to incite The warden lost hold When privatization was sold The winter ran cold Captives grew bold Scratching out eyes for dead presidents Smoldered in flame Lost in the mire of false precedents Monopolizing the game Hectic self-imposed calamity drawing heavy on the soul Elitist mentality rips you away from the bowl Recently paroled Breathing in the mold Knocking pawnshops for gold Adjustments held…cost of being old

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Nov 7, 2014

Nov 7, 2014 at 5:35 PM UTC

charles-lutwidge-dodgson

Rat In The Shed

The struggle’s made vivid Played out in a telecast The boundaries made rigid Erecting a minted sociopath Swallowing sick lies at the mercy of a pint Regurgitating references made to incite The warden lost hold When privatization was sold The winter ran cold Captives grew bold Scratching out eyes for dead presidents Smoldered in flame Lost in the mire of false precedents Monopolizing the game Hectic self-imposed calamity drawing heavy on the soul Elitist mentality rips you away from the bowl Recently paroled Breathing in the mold Knocking pawnshops for gold Adjustments held…cost of being old

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Laying this head upon a hillside... whose nurture was numberless bosoms. How green the liberties of innocence... lost in termless growth. Of whose Age of Joy could never be qualified. The yonder yellow of networking dandelions, setting sunny precedents. As raring turtle doves echo winds that have already changed. This season of werewithal, for the reciprocation of benediction.

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Apr 11, 2016

Apr 11, 2016 at 3:57 PM UTC

Green the Liberties

Laying this head upon a hillside... whose nurture was numberless bosoms. How green the liberties of innocence... lost in termless growth. Of whose Age of Joy could never be qualified. The yonder yellow of networking dandelions, setting sunny precedents. As raring turtle doves echo winds that have already changed. This season of werewithal, for the reciprocation of benediction.

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Drawn from the seed whether that be hurt anger or greed on life it feeds punishing misdeeds it's not a pestilence but it strangely represents not dead presidents but precedents and the presence of man comprehends and demands that we make a plan to understand this simple constant

0

Dec 9, 2014

Dec 9, 2014 at 2:45 PM UTC

neroameealucard

Drawn from the seed whether that be hurt anger or greed on life it feeds punishing misdeeds it's not a pestilence but it strangely represents not dead presidents but precedents and the presence of man comprehends and demands that we make a plan to understand this simple constant

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My world today is upside down When truth is lies and cheating; When the country is run by a clown Who wants to be beyond defeating. When robbing the poor is fun For those who don’t need money. When taking sick people’s insurance To the wealthy is something funny. The world is thinking with it’s **** If looking back to Nazis is correct. We have the burden to protest this, We have a society we must protect. Some are badly uneducated now Because we have lowered the bar On what we teach our children today. Yes, we have sunk down that far. As a people, we don’t seem to care About who is making our laws now. The law is full of massive restrictions But most of us have no idea just how. How did they get there, these rules That support the rich and corporations? When did we become this leviathan Of criminals running our fine nation? So, what can we do, short of revolution? Do we all march in the streets and strike? Do we stop buying cars and houses And go to work every day on a bike? Do we boycott spending money at all Until the crooks are cleared away? And how do we tell good from bad In the way things are slanted today? We all must speak and write and demand Of the current representatives elected To look to the precedents we have had Upon which our great country was erected. We founded this country on equality And promised freedom for us all. We have the burden to see to it That our government answers that call.

0

Sep 6, 2018

Sep 6, 2018 at 1:25 PM UTC

My world today is upside down When truth is lies and cheating; When the country is run by a clown Who wants to be beyond defeating. When robbing the poor is fun For those who don’t need money. When taking sick people’s insurance To the wealthy is something funny. The world is thinking with it’s **** If looking back to Nazis is correct. We have the burden to protest this, We have a society we must protect. Some are badly uneducated now Because we have lowered the bar On what we teach our children today. Yes, we have sunk down that far. As a people, we don’t seem to care About who is making our laws now. The law is full of massive restrictions But most of us have no idea just how. How did they get there, these rules That support the rich and corporations? When did we become this leviathan Of criminals running our fine nation? So, what can we do, short of revolution? Do we all march in the streets and strike? Do we stop buying cars and houses And go to work every day on a bike? Do we boycott spending money at all Until the crooks are cleared away? And how do we tell good from bad In the way things are slanted today? We all must speak and write and demand Of the current representatives elected To look to the precedents we have had Upon which our great country was erected. We founded this country on equality And promised freedom for us all. We have the burden to see to it That our government answers that call.

Continue reading...

We soon got wind of of the crime: he wound up with a wound but weathered it fairly well, waiting for the affair to wind down while they wondered whether windy weather had played a role affecting the whole scene. The effect of the hole, (seen in court) was downplayed, read at the hearing as a likely red herring. The jury, having heard, gave their verdict as a herd; unanimously. (And, more famously, anonymously.) The infamously failed assassination set precedents for presidents as we asked, as a nation, to have safety take precedence over presidential presence, urging all residents to monitor their residence since shooters deft for lead could leave others left for dead indeed. The casings were recovered, and the whole case covered by the press (though some journalists, pressed by the particulars of the case, cased out the possibility of covering close-up) until the case closed up.

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Apr 15, 2019

Apr 15, 2019 at 3:17 PM UTC

Fatal Head-Wound Healed

We soon got wind of of the crime: he wound up with a wound but weathered it fairly well, waiting for the affair to wind down while they wondered whether windy weather had played a role affecting the whole scene. The effect of the hole, (seen in court) was downplayed, read at the hearing as a likely red herring. The jury, having heard, gave their verdict as a herd; unanimously. (And, more famously, anonymously.) The infamously failed assassination set precedents for presidents as we asked, as a nation, to have safety take precedence over presidential presence, urging all residents to monitor their residence since shooters deft for lead could leave others left for dead indeed. The casings were recovered, and the whole case covered by the press (though some journalists, pressed by the particulars of the case, cased out the possibility of covering close-up) until the case closed up.

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Drib drab syntax; don’t follow what you’ve been taught. Dreams flow delicate, and words follow suit. Precedents only compliment, the things that should go wrong. Calamities may seem tragedies, without the softness of time. Don’t listen to the music; you’ll only define your mind. If you don’t like what’s hidden, then don’t let it be true. See the goodness of intention, notice the sorrow of the action. Hear the wisdom of ignorance, See the colour of the dark, hear the song of the mundane, know the heart of the timid, list the parts that make up nothing, feel the touch of empty space. Know the difference between a skipped heartbeat, and the love that takes its place.

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Feb 19, 2014

Feb 19, 2014 at 11:21 AM UTC

Wide-eyed Wondering

Drib drab syntax; don’t follow what you’ve been taught. Dreams flow delicate, and words follow suit. Precedents only compliment, the things that should go wrong. Calamities may seem tragedies, without the softness of time. Don’t listen to the music; you’ll only define your mind. If you don’t like what’s hidden, then don’t let it be true. See the goodness of intention, notice the sorrow of the action. Hear the wisdom of ignorance, See the colour of the dark, hear the song of the mundane, know the heart of the timid, list the parts that make up nothing, feel the touch of empty space. Know the difference between a skipped heartbeat, and the love that takes its place.

Continue reading...

This resident hedonist is feeding false promises, premises, had precedents lacks presence get off our premises president our countries bloodied and blemished supposed genius turned menace made a promising entrance now with vehemence, menaces subverts his messages, sentences burn our nemesis' edifice don't hide in the crevices its prescience

0

Dec 2, 2015

Dec 2, 2015 at 4:42 AM UTC

This resident hedonist is feeding false promises, premises, had precedents lacks presence get off our premises president our countries bloodied and blemished supposed genius turned menace made a promising entrance now with vehemence, menaces subverts his messages, sentences burn our nemesis' edifice don't hide in the crevices its prescience

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white owl breathless beaming pale is favored ghost **** how you are feeling when u feel it **** the most breed evil when you’re sleeping ghost finds pale is home *** life under purple is bareskin under bleeding vol while you are wide away sad poison smiles weeping lungs sawwed off life precedents for coffins that they’ll slleep in

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Jul 23, 2015

Jul 23, 2015 at 3:27 PM UTC

ourtwobodiesintoonepinkcasket

white owl breathless beaming pale is favored ghost **** how you are feeling when u feel it **** the most breed evil when you’re sleeping ghost finds pale is home *** life under purple is bareskin under bleeding vol while you are wide away sad poison smiles weeping lungs sawwed off life precedents for coffins that they’ll slleep in

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