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"provocateur" poems
The age of letting time take its own, slow course is gone, perhaps For every hour is rush hour, Every meal is a quick-bite, That cup of coffee always instant, Honking even before the signal goes from yellow to green, the rule The age of savouring the moment to its delicious limit is gone, perhaps For every flaw is now a breaking point, Every argument cause for a split-up Every mismatch provocateur of second thoughts In the age of waiting being obsolete, Patience becoming a virtue redundant, The plain, small joys of life becoming insignificant, The material replacing the abstract, The direction of the swipe on a touchscreen Becoming the decider of the fate of love stories, I'll never find you, perhaps, If this world continues to function Like a real-life dating app
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Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC
Dating Apps
Passion fruit. Banana ***** papaya dreams so nice and juicy. Papa's up. The game is down, these other kings just ain't around. Bang, Bang, Who's Up?! Bang, Bang, Who's Down?! These other authors they hit the ground. I don't mean to fright, I don't mean to leave I just got this thing that drives me. I don't need to fight, but it feels, so, soo, good. But all the po' lease think that it's my neighborhood. Ooh girl I like ya' C'mon over I like ya' Ooh girl I like ya' C'mon over I'll bite ya' I know you's a freak, so bring a friend I got rubber sheets, so I can break you in Some other girls, think go around But the truth is I just go downtown The Rick Owens Store is like my homepage If you ain't Facebook than you ain't gettin' laid Obscur is fresh, Henrik's a boss, but I have to say Trentemoeller really Lost. I liked Last Resort, even Harbour Trips, but lately he's been on some ****** up **** My parents want me to go get a Jay Oh Bee But I'm too busy, sleeping. My baby's face is porcelain, but I can't afford it So I said it looked aluminum. Dem people not, be steppin' on my toes Cause' I'll show up reppin' Sheridan Rd. with my Colt '44. Ooh girl I like ya C'mon over ya ripe now Ooh girl I like ya C'mon over I'll bite ya Your black garters' hot, so is yo' lace bikini When it comes to lingerie, I play it like Houdini Whether it's Agent Provocateur or Victoria's Secret I hold my *** until I can put it in your **** Relationship is such a ***** word But when it comes to ***** I like 4-letter verbs You can bring..um..whatever you want But if you gotta **** **** ***** I'm out.
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Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 3:09 AM UTC
Riff Raff Rag Stock
Passion fruit. Banana ***** papaya dreams so nice and juicy. Papa's up. The game is down, these other kings just ain't around. Bang, Bang, Who's Up?! Bang, Bang, Who's Down?! These other authors they hit the ground. I don't mean to fright, I don't mean to leave I just got this thing that drives me. I don't need to fight, but it feels, so, soo, good. But all the po' lease think that it's my neighborhood. Ooh girl I like ya' C'mon over I like ya' Ooh girl I like ya' C'mon over I'll bite ya' I know you's a freak, so bring a friend I got rubber sheets, so I can break you in Some other girls, think go around But the truth is I just go downtown The Rick Owens Store is like my homepage If you ain't Facebook than you ain't gettin' laid Obscur is fresh, Henrik's a boss, but I have to say Trentemoeller really Lost. I liked Last Resort, even Harbour Trips, but lately he's been on some ****** up **** My parents want me to go get a Jay Oh Bee But I'm too busy, sleeping. My baby's face is porcelain, but I can't afford it So I said it looked aluminum. Dem people not, be steppin' on my toes Cause' I'll show up reppin' Sheridan Rd. with my Colt '44. Ooh girl I like ya C'mon over ya ripe now Ooh girl I like ya C'mon over I'll bite ya Your black garters' hot, so is yo' lace bikini When it comes to lingerie, I play it like Houdini Whether it's Agent Provocateur or Victoria's Secret I hold my *** until I can put it in your **** Relationship is such a ***** word But when it comes to ***** I like 4-letter verbs You can bring..um..whatever you want But if you gotta **** **** ***** I'm out.
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39
“A demagogue, in the strict signification of the word, is a 'leader of the rabble'.”                         — James Fenimore Cooper, "On Demagogues" a political leader who seeks support by appealing to popular desires & prejudices rather than by using rational argument; A demagogue or rabble-rouser is a leader in a democracy who gains popularity by exploiting prejudice & ignorance among the common people, whipping up the passions of the crowd & shutting down reasoned deliberations; rabble-rouser, agitator, political agitator, soapbox orator, firebrand, fomenter, provocateur "he was drawn into a circle of campus demagogues" Only in ancient Greece and Rome was it a leader or orator who espoused the cause of the common people; demagogues overturn established customs of political conduct, or promise or threaten to do so; demagogues have appeared in democracies since ancient Athens. They exploit a fundamental weakness in democracy: because ultimate power is held by the people, it is possible for the people to give that power to someone who appeals   to the lowest common denominator of a large segment of the population; demagogues usually advocate immediate, forceful action to address a national crisis while accusing moderate & thoughtful opponents                                        of weakness or disloyalty
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Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 7:44 PM UTC
On Demagogues 2018
And he's provocative, a provocateur, a beacon of free speech and foul speech and vague speech and pointed speech, pacing the Conference Room Alamo on the ground floor of the Hilton, testing his lapel mike, asking the crowd of eighty, ninety to move to the front rows, and he mouths something to the photographer, a dreadlock'd skin and bones white boy, and the photographer flanks the crowd, angling the shot to solidify the intended narrative: he is a provocateur, a popular provocateur, a staunch opponent of political correctness (which this bystander must note strangely equates to a champion of hate speech), a former poster child for the alt-right, but—and quoting here—he says, "I cannot be pigeonholed," and perhaps that's it, the secret to his former success, his viral, shapeless nature, a terrorist of language and persona, and perhaps that's it, the secret to his demise, his shape forming, his identity emerging from the podcast ghettos and GOP speaking gigs, and he's on the stage and he's in all white and this is intentional, this is the redemption tour, the other-side tour, and the crowd claps now as he pumps his arms (at this point in the presentation they used to shout, I should point out), and he calls Hillary Clinton "Satan's ingrown **** hair," and the men in the audience laugh and pant and cough, and he spends fifteen minutes on fake news and hit pieces and the nuance of video editing and how liberal snowflakes won't stop protesting his appearances (for clarity here, there were no protestors at this event), and he wraps everything rather quickly (especially for the $150 ticket price) and says he has a minute for questions, and a young man, twenty-five or so, asks for tips on becoming the God King of Internet Trolls, and he, the popular provocateur, says, "Ah. The next generation is coming up from behind."
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Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 4:58 PM UTC
Alamo Idiot Stand
And he's provocative, a provocateur, a beacon of free speech and foul speech and vague speech and pointed speech, pacing the Conference Room Alamo on the ground floor of the Hilton, testing his lapel mike, asking the crowd of eighty, ninety to move to the front rows, and he mouths something to the photographer, a dreadlock'd skin and bones white boy, and the photographer flanks the crowd, angling the shot to solidify the intended narrative: he is a provocateur, a popular provocateur, a staunch opponent of political correctness (which this bystander must note strangely equates to a champion of hate speech), a former poster child for the alt-right, but—and quoting here—he says, "I cannot be pigeonholed," and perhaps that's it, the secret to his former success, his viral, shapeless nature, a terrorist of language and persona, and perhaps that's it, the secret to his demise, his shape forming, his identity emerging from the podcast ghettos and GOP speaking gigs, and he's on the stage and he's in all white and this is intentional, this is the redemption tour, the other-side tour, and the crowd claps now as he pumps his arms (at this point in the presentation they used to shout, I should point out), and he calls Hillary Clinton "Satan's ingrown **** hair," and the men in the audience laugh and pant and cough, and he spends fifteen minutes on fake news and hit pieces and the nuance of video editing and how liberal snowflakes won't stop protesting his appearances (for clarity here, there were no protestors at this event), and he wraps everything rather quickly (especially for the $150 ticket price) and says he has a minute for questions, and a young man, twenty-five or so, asks for tips on becoming the God King of Internet Trolls, and he, the popular provocateur, says, "Ah. The next generation is coming up from behind."
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1
Using the 1% of those who got out of the violent act of poverty at the expense of billionaires and taxpayer payed subsidies Yes, they use the most pretentious of our few escapees they become a mouthpiece to deny the facts researched by actual experts Truth is what is powerful There's no escape from the ruler's messages There's no escape from miseducation
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Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 12:07 AM UTC
Paid-Testimonial Provocateur
Ivy has style Ivy puts on dresses and heels Ivy reads books Ivy talks about books Ivy lies to her father Ivy eats at expensive restaurants and pays with her mother’s card Ivy is beautiful and wild Ivy is strange and vicious Ivy drinks more than she should Ivy eats less than necessary Ivy has a bottle of ***** and a coke in her car Ivy has a parking ticket on the windshield Ivy busily rolls a joint and goes outside Ivy sits on a cold curb and smokes elegantly What else can I say about Ivy? Ivy has a beautiful, slim handwriting Once Ivy kissed as if she was eating soup Ivy is poisonous or so she thinks Ivy is impressed by "stupid" crazy stories, such as "Naked Lunch" Sometimes Ivy dances to Britney Spears Ivy likes "Love" by Gaspar Noé Ivy likes to re-enact classical paintings: Venus, Ophelia,… Ivy buys matching underwear from Agent Provocateur Kisses make Ivy’s back, neck, and face blush Not a solid fill-in red, but marble blotches Ivy has piercings on her ******* and down there Ivy has scars from a razor blade: a triangle on her chest and "Anathema" on her hip Ivy has a streak of tragedy in her I like Ivy
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Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 4:26 PM UTC
Ivy
Lost in the zone, found my home, here where the heart is, all of us are artist, we are what is, flashy as club lights, do some good tonight, responsible for, the betterment of, everything love, Love, I love you, Love, love our world, love this club, love this love, love Will’s pearls, sure we are, whatever you want to call us, sure, I am, the poet for this generation, illuminating our dark hearts, with infinite interpretations, destination, here, where everything is an offering, need a new language, because this one’s too frustrating, a rush crazy, can’t believe we made it, to the top of the top, got, everything I ever envisioned, World War 3, or Wold Wide Peace, what it’s going to be is your decision, in this, Matrix we made it, saying, we are energy that’s infinite, we are, all of, everything, in this club of love, let’s get together, up to get down, or down to get up, either way around, it doesn’t matter, lights like stereotypes shatter, all preconceived notions, of what really matters, life is, what we write with, a life that’s, a trip like, the lights that flash, past, back, in this club, where we light everything, and get high off the love. ∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
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Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 11:40 PM UTC
Club Love At Provocateur
You were just like any other girl Such a strange way to meet you Saw you at a concert, Dimmu Borgir My heart leaped, like I knew you Nearly screamed "hi" Oh wait, I don't know you or do I? Slowly start the rumors There's a new girl in the scene She's got puffy hair and a doll face Loves Finnish people Never seen Turks in the metal scene I uncovered all the intriques for you All the lies and stories I'll cover for you girl And did we ever cover for each other Team -Third degree concussion "It was just bad luck" Stayed by your bed for three days -Mum kicked me out Stayed with you for a week -must've drank too much The earth is turning Must've smoked too much The earth is turning The scent of Agent Provocateur By my side -"you can't give me a fine! I have diplomatic immunity!" And nobody quite understood Your OCD like I did Spent hours, days, weeks, months, years Tryingto fix you Your crazy never held me back unconditionally 4 years later, you're a normal girl Two weeks apart, all undone Two weeks apart And I'm a hotmess The lights went out The world went dark The fire went out Dynamic Duo undone You're a hotmess Tears shed over air waves Your voice through Skype "It's a strange relationship" Said your psychologist "I've never seen two friends So in tune with each other" I have my heart full Of fond memories We lived a lifetime in 4 years And we made it all count You've been gone for years We grew up My heart's still full And as I tell myself It's all gone I nearly hear you squeaky voice As I read the text Last night I got drunk and watched all our videos. Happy birthday. I love you
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Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 3:01 PM UTC
Heart Full
You were just like any other girl Such a strange way to meet you Saw you at a concert, Dimmu Borgir My heart leaped, like I knew you Nearly screamed "hi" Oh wait, I don't know you or do I? Slowly start the rumors There's a new girl in the scene She's got puffy hair and a doll face Loves Finnish people Never seen Turks in the metal scene I uncovered all the intriques for you All the lies and stories I'll cover for you girl And did we ever cover for each other Team -Third degree concussion "It was just bad luck" Stayed by your bed for three days -Mum kicked me out Stayed with you for a week -must've drank too much The earth is turning Must've smoked too much The earth is turning The scent of Agent Provocateur By my side -"you can't give me a fine! I have diplomatic immunity!" And nobody quite understood Your OCD like I did Spent hours, days, weeks, months, years Tryingto fix you Your crazy never held me back unconditionally 4 years later, you're a normal girl Two weeks apart, all undone Two weeks apart And I'm a hotmess The lights went out The world went dark The fire went out Dynamic Duo undone You're a hotmess Tears shed over air waves Your voice through Skype "It's a strange relationship" Said your psychologist "I've never seen two friends So in tune with each other" I have my heart full Of fond memories We lived a lifetime in 4 years And we made it all count You've been gone for years We grew up My heart's still full And as I tell myself It's all gone I nearly hear you squeaky voice As I read the text Last night I got drunk and watched all our videos. Happy birthday. I love you
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63
sensual subtlety or the subtlety of sensuality (HOW does size matter?) <•> *as always the title comes first, embalming the mind so it may voyage onto unwritten waters, over boundaries so the provocateur provoked may safely return, avoiding evoking anti-frieze cannonade fire some can disable with swinging fist, a chopping arm on an exposed neck, a swift kick to the semi-privates but I can do same, inflicting immobilization with a single solitary itty bitty pinky figuring finger no random boast, no hoax, not chest beating, just a fact ma’am, nothing but the facts the sensual subtlety of the delicate is overpowering and irresistible making grownups revert into laughing crying out loud babies the subtlety of sensuality pink’d exploding exploration, the intoxicating tiny tingling subtle and without equal, kingdoms have fallen, paintings and poems, art all kinds, instigated and in eye sockets permanently inserted, history redirected know I will no be telling details, the whose and where, the why and surely not the how, not here anyway so when you tell me in raw fashion size matters most definitely in the matters of the heart or the physicality whole heartedly agree waving my littlest pinky finger watching you wavering until you’ve learned the lesson it’s the how* not the how big
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May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 4:09 PM UTC
HOW does size matter?
"two birthday presents are better than one" sayings of the wise men *"and what an honor it is, and how could we be anything greater (than all too human)?"   R.A.* ~ for Rebecca, a birthday gift ~ a message of notification, comes early one evening, an agent provocateur, a paparazzi peeping tom, a cat burglar presuming the poet-receiver nat is a rat-man out and about, galavanting around town, dancing perhaps, seeing a Pinter play, a movie, a lecture on string theory, an underground railroad rock concert, reading a book of priestly poetry, or himself, lost in a mesmerizing revery of poetic composition her question, a statement of fact, a reflection, one or all, all for one, this pronunciation, a witness deposition re the human condition the man is knocked askew in about an instantly, sitting before the voluptuous fireplace's crackling complications, fire sensing the multiples of implications, contemplating the failing honor of human limitations, sensing the uniqueness of our successes, a claiming race prize for all of we humans in her words now how great is this knowledge that we, all to human, all too human, need let this then be the first thought/ message/ notification - meditation of our every day that we honor ourselves first, our upstart blessing, in order to honor our world and its bedazzling human creativity ~ We find our poems in many different ways.  Of late, I keep finding inspiration from the messages that many of you send to me, re the poems I choose to publish here. So I repeat my disclaimer, "any message you send can and will be used as a poem."
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Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 7:28 PM UTC
and what an honor it is...
"two birthday presents are better than one" sayings of the wise men *"and what an honor it is, and how could we be anything greater (than all too human)?"   R.A.* ~ for Rebecca, a birthday gift ~ a message of notification, comes early one evening, an agent provocateur, a paparazzi peeping tom, a cat burglar presuming the poet-receiver nat is a rat-man out and about, galavanting around town, dancing perhaps, seeing a Pinter play, a movie, a lecture on string theory, an underground railroad rock concert, reading a book of priestly poetry, or himself, lost in a mesmerizing revery of poetic composition her question, a statement of fact, a reflection, one or all, all for one, this pronunciation, a witness deposition re the human condition the man is knocked askew in about an instantly, sitting before the voluptuous fireplace's crackling complications, fire sensing the multiples of implications, contemplating the failing honor of human limitations, sensing the uniqueness of our successes, a claiming race prize for all of we humans in her words now how great is this knowledge that we, all to human, all too human, need let this then be the first thought/ message/ notification - meditation of our every day that we honor ourselves first, our upstart blessing, in order to honor our world and its bedazzling human creativity ~ We find our poems in many different ways.  Of late, I keep finding inspiration from the messages that many of you send to me, re the poems I choose to publish here. So I repeat my disclaimer, "any message you send can and will be used as a poem."
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42
Secret agent. Agent provocateur. She's got herself a boyfriend now. A human sacrifice to free. Taken yet another lover. Life chucked her on a rolling ball. A downhill rat,she's running. Cunning hits and crazy fits. My God, that girl is stunning. Thought she had it all and more. Said cornflowers just ain't like like that, twiddling on the Bachelors Buttons. Life chucked her on a rolling ball. A down hill rat,she's running. Cunning hits and crazy fits. My God, that girl is stunning. She makes no broken promises. Stormy seas are for riding, Forbidden to be free. You who were perfection. Crazy notion, love devotion. Riding on a carousel. For she's the lady Moriarty. She's willing for the **** (c) Livvi
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Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 12:04 PM UTC
THE LADY MORIARTY
tried- yeah, yeah, what an idiot, what hubris, but if you knew the weather-or-not-Gods like I do, dat true, we are closer than next door neighbors, we are kinda married first thing that embraces me daily, like a lover more human than you reader! them gods are more emotional than your average teenager, one day you’re kissed from head to toes, twice, up ‘n down, plus reversd revered direction, and the smile on mouth bout ear to ear, cheekbones glowing, then, someone wakes angry, ***** double down ***** slaps the pillow upon you were resting, growls, nah, howls, and the sheets ain’t big enough to hide under, and you cannot appeal, squeal, sell threaten big secrets reveal, the noises are voluminous, ludicrous, insurmountable… I am an agent provocateur, making trouble is my busy-e-ness. Endless and nonetheless, I failed, Will not reveal what my bribe was, and secretly concealed, let me just say this; please go on saying “have a nice day” which they believe is a prayer to them, reports of my being struck by lightning are just premature…
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Aug 6, 2024
Aug 6, 2024 at 8:35 AM UTC
You cannot bribe the sky
Acuity's sweetheart, without a peep what whole to picture, reflect you. Black hole gone white...you consume all put to you. Unwavering stare ad nauseam--great gatherer of last nerves. Your only sentiment, an unnerving one. As per second guess, images donned their reality within your confines...their dead end of your wide open. Grey skies of luminous latency, frozen lakes, serrated knives, sentient fog--smack of you. Timeless conversation piece on reserve for what thing may look into you. How can something so crystal clear, be so cut off? Your desensitization was fashioned darkly--that pained slip...that recoil of what you reflect. More final than the wall hang you, as to eclipse. You belong shut in a dark, musty closet, or the cobweb corner of an attic. Clearly...you do not merit the light of day...it's fire to brush...O Great Teacher!
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Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 10:51 AM UTC
Mirror, Provocateur
Throughout the muddle of to and fro Our borrowed time, our come and go Our constant search for the quicker way Never owning the chance to seize the day Only at life’s halt, do we then discover The purpose of the quiet hour Time to shop, no time to stay Time to entertain, no time to pray Of doors to lock and belts to buckle Of errands to run, and babies to suckle No time to smell the roses scent Time quickly lost, time idly spent Forgotten I love you’s, a broken vow Speeding up won’t solve it now… In constant motion, on the go We say goodbye, before hello Addiction to speed, such a real provocateur Not worth being ill, or the Doctors bill later Yet there is time to figure this out To really know what life’s about For life is sweeter when you know What it means to honour slow
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Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 12:41 AM UTC
In Honour of Slow
I am the mountain man. I am the shifting sands. I am the laughter through gritted teeth, I am the squint of concentration, I am the missing piece and the stone that won't roll. I am the Zeit Ghost. I am the Underwerewolf. I am the Pseudonami. I am not what you say I am, until I say: "I Am." I am the Red Sun Samurai. I am the Locomotive Provocateur. I am the bones of kings and slaves. I am the breath of the wind in the trees. I am the Electrocuted Interlocutor. I am the whip of the matador. I am sunken cities in the swamp. I am Firestarter.          Spark Guarder. I am the assembly line whereby the machine reproduces. I am capitulated capitalism. I am the captain of the sky ship to                                                         Ghost Country. I am a natural amphetamine          a synthetic homeopathic          a cure for the sad             curation for the lost             death for the solid and unchanging. I am the mask of roots. I am a treehouse full of books. I am the sword in the daytime. I am the Day Waker, the Cloud Shaker the Continent Unmaker, the Deep Laker the childhood of broken dreams and unbreakable boulders. Half-slumbering in your living room. One eye on your joy, the other searching for answers to the unanswerable question of: where did it go? Fully alive, pacing the gravestones kisses to flowers in the new moon and a pocketful of reality checks. Helping you let go of everything                                         Holding you back. Hoping you'll hold onto me.
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Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 5:37 PM UTC
The Glue (In Search of a Pseudonym) [Ideas for a One-HuMan-Band]
I am the mountain man. I am the shifting sands. I am the laughter through gritted teeth, I am the squint of concentration, I am the missing piece and the stone that won't roll. I am the Zeit Ghost. I am the Underwerewolf. I am the Pseudonami. I am not what you say I am, until I say: "I Am." I am the Red Sun Samurai. I am the Locomotive Provocateur. I am the bones of kings and slaves. I am the breath of the wind in the trees. I am the Electrocuted Interlocutor. I am the whip of the matador. I am sunken cities in the swamp. I am Firestarter.          Spark Guarder. I am the assembly line whereby the machine reproduces. I am capitulated capitalism. I am the captain of the sky ship to                                                         Ghost Country. I am a natural amphetamine          a synthetic homeopathic          a cure for the sad             curation for the lost             death for the solid and unchanging. I am the mask of roots. I am a treehouse full of books. I am the sword in the daytime. I am the Day Waker, the Cloud Shaker the Continent Unmaker, the Deep Laker the childhood of broken dreams and unbreakable boulders. Half-slumbering in your living room. One eye on your joy, the other searching for answers to the unanswerable question of: where did it go? Fully alive, pacing the gravestones kisses to flowers in the new moon and a pocketful of reality checks. Helping you let go of everything                                         Holding you back. Hoping you'll hold onto me.
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43
Out of sync lately Mistakes have been Gravely Impacting Exacting More making us angry But strangely As yet Undeserving as I Of forgiveness She still seems to find it Inside Amidst dissonance Distance Disdain And decay But there’s no one I’d still rather see Every day I just have to preempt And preclude Provocation Not merely accept It as my Inclination
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Jul 31, 2024
Jul 31, 2024 at 12:27 AM UTC
The Provocateur
You hide In peaceful places Bringing unrest That is fabricated Trying to mutilate The movement From AIM To King You disrupted Civil Rights COINTELPRO Now you’re back In Oakland Waving your gun Hiding in plainclothes
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Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 5:18 PM UTC
Agent Provocateur
Do You Know! Do you know who she is? Do you know where she is? Do you know how to love? She is the spirit. The spirit that flows. The one least expected. The love that you found. The sneeze that tickles your nose. She is beauty in a picture frame. Painted in guilt around the borders. She is the breeze that enters your head. Preventing your spirit. Stopping death in it's tracks. She is the heart that beats. Sometimes advocates retreat. She is the honour in written words. She is the dignity on the wings of sweet birds. She is the artery the pumps you away. She is the tide that you ride. She keeps your beautiful body alive. She is the white water raft. Crashing and bashing you. Leaving you stranded on perilous rocks. She is the one that plays with your brain. She is the provocateur of deepest pain. All of it. Each and every little fragment. Smashed as memories mirror shards. So now do you know who she is? By ladylivvi1 © 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
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Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 4:18 PM UTC
Do You Know?
Demagogue Oligarchic Nonsensical Authoritarian Lunatic Despotic   Treacherous Racist Uneducated Misogynistic Provocateur
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Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 12:49 AM UTC
The Donald
I find Madness to be much like a mental resin. A volatile sickness, that sits on the cusp of belligerence.   Provocateur, such vehemence merits the title of an artist. The beast in its own way stands for a peculiar beauty. Spinning its spokes, i have seen an author at play, combing the labs of creativity, seeking solace, and reason in this sort misadventure. kicking my feet back & forth in the water i wonder Observing such cartoon characteristics, should this traveler of realms be judged by a moral higher-arch? Should it not be allowed to play its lute? As long as no pain and suffering is wrought on our fellow beings? Bringer of ideas, bound by no line of chalk. the hurt that troubles you, will sadly be forgot. in the arms of a fool, society stinks like a public pool. So carry on your freedom, without care of any those whose only job is to inevitably drool.
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Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 7:37 PM UTC
Belligerence
(alter knit lee tie tilled - Field Day For A Nihilist). Hunger for knowledge vis avis car ear ring (and car rue ming) cerebrum formulated, integrated, promulgated personal perception to the point of no return, and inadvertently brought to fruition basic, dogmatic, enigmatic, fatalistic heuristic life lessons. The fabulist, dualistic capacity averred viz Zoroastrianism figuratively pitched this contemplative, furtive, intuitive literate organic, realistic, universalistic, wanderer yearning instinctive modalities metamorphosing this quizzically opportunistic, philosophically naturalistic, officially matt tea real list tic, and sometime prophesying prognosticating probing outlier. As a nonestablishmentarian libertarian, joy riding heretic, feasting dishabille *** I contemplated the capacity qua Duality of human being to co-exist inside the labyrinth of mental learning. Quite often reconciliation between the angel of come passion stood opposite intent (with minimal effort to foment) malicious intent toward evil. This constant tug of war (within depths of psyche) perched psychological state upon precarious pivot. Balance between righteousness verses barb bar rick ken of villainy engendered warp and woof of noble might undermined via ignoble, infamous injudicious threnody thru the countless millennia, when many an outstanding wizard served as a prime mover and shaker to boost betterment of so called civilized state with the bane of anarchy, disintegration, gallimaufry always in the vanguard. Manifold milieus, which witnessed civilization rise and fall became bereft of equilibrium be tween forces of growth and decay. The feature of intransigence (as a free roaming derelict agent) and dominant characteristic of contemporary society.
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Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 7:47 PM UTC
Antithetical Agent Provocateur
(alter knit lee tie tilled - Field Day For A Nihilist). Hunger for knowledge vis avis car ear ring (and car rue ming) cerebrum formulated, integrated, promulgated personal perception to the point of no return, and inadvertently brought to fruition basic, dogmatic, enigmatic, fatalistic heuristic life lessons. The fabulist, dualistic capacity averred viz Zoroastrianism figuratively pitched this contemplative, furtive, intuitive literate organic, realistic, universalistic, wanderer yearning instinctive modalities metamorphosing this quizzically opportunistic, philosophically naturalistic, officially matt tea real list tic, and sometime prophesying prognosticating probing outlier. As a nonestablishmentarian libertarian, joy riding heretic, feasting dishabille *** I contemplated the capacity qua Duality of human being to co-exist inside the labyrinth of mental learning. Quite often reconciliation between the angel of come passion stood opposite intent (with minimal effort to foment) malicious intent toward evil. This constant tug of war (within depths of psyche) perched psychological state upon precarious pivot. Balance between righteousness verses barb bar rick ken of villainy engendered warp and woof of noble might undermined via ignoble, infamous injudicious threnody thru the countless millennia, when many an outstanding wizard served as a prime mover and shaker to boost betterment of so called civilized state with the bane of anarchy, disintegration, gallimaufry always in the vanguard. Manifold milieus, which witnessed civilization rise and fall became bereft of equilibrium be tween forces of growth and decay. The feature of intransigence (as a free roaming derelict agent) and dominant characteristic of contemporary society.
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Lifeblood of democracy hemorrhaging ousting the "FAKE" president only recourse to staunch impending grim demise, since forefathers drafted United States Constitution ratified more'n two centuries ago hoi polloi must take to the streets denouncing severe curtailment impinging sacred freedom of speech linkedin with paramount bedrock provision accessing unvarnished flint ****** "truth," nonetheless commander in chief he quakingly, staunchly, vociferously... excoriates, lacerates, repudiates... one damning hermetically sealed, iniquitous airtight, vacuum packed flagrant misuse of power, (not to mention nepotism) invidious, insidious, injurious... infractions incontestable, incontrovertible, contemptible... significant melange in führer re: hating deplorably crooked basely barren factual exposé after another, deft correspondents all not quiet along western front (I heard Maria - mull remark) bring "to light" execrable, lamentable reprehensible... gross transgressions commander in chief significantly overstepped Pulitzer prize winning prestigious storied publications scathingly trounced, pillaried, lambasted, insulted, denounced, butchered, critiqued, demonized, fricassed, gored, humiliated,... pummeled, quartered, reviled courageously expounding fiend ensconced within his Taj Mahal impregnable donjon, whereat he trumpets laurels asper, nonpareil administration laying groundless accusations baring his white fangs, twittering, naysaying, mocking.. supreme renown gifted by "honest Abe" recalcitrant commander in chief, who refutes objectionable dogged investigative journalism every step of the way, where dedicated news gatherers risk life and limb firing line reportage troopers ferreting (foxlike) ***** doth gopher precious nuggets uncover alarming undisputable details impossible to refute raw bits agent provocateur freely colluding immediately hashtashed poppycock smarmy, snooty, snappy beastly capital one ogre blatantly castigating diligent endeavors oblivious pie in sky delusional egotistic haughtiness bobblehead vilified by silent majority.
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Jun 3, 2019
Jun 3, 2019 at 9:29 PM UTC
First Amendment In Jeopardy
Lifeblood of democracy hemorrhaging ousting the "FAKE" president only recourse to staunch impending grim demise, since forefathers drafted United States Constitution ratified more'n two centuries ago hoi polloi must take to the streets denouncing severe curtailment impinging sacred freedom of speech linkedin with paramount bedrock provision accessing unvarnished flint ****** "truth," nonetheless commander in chief he quakingly, staunchly, vociferously... excoriates, lacerates, repudiates... one damning hermetically sealed, iniquitous airtight, vacuum packed flagrant misuse of power, (not to mention nepotism) invidious, insidious, injurious... infractions incontestable, incontrovertible, contemptible... significant melange in führer re: hating deplorably crooked basely barren factual exposé after another, deft correspondents all not quiet along western front (I heard Maria - mull remark) bring "to light" execrable, lamentable reprehensible... gross transgressions commander in chief significantly overstepped Pulitzer prize winning prestigious storied publications scathingly trounced, pillaried, lambasted, insulted, denounced, butchered, critiqued, demonized, fricassed, gored, humiliated,... pummeled, quartered, reviled courageously expounding fiend ensconced within his Taj Mahal impregnable donjon, whereat he trumpets laurels asper, nonpareil administration laying groundless accusations baring his white fangs, twittering, naysaying, mocking.. supreme renown gifted by "honest Abe" recalcitrant commander in chief, who refutes objectionable dogged investigative journalism every step of the way, where dedicated news gatherers risk life and limb firing line reportage troopers ferreting (foxlike) ***** doth gopher precious nuggets uncover alarming undisputable details impossible to refute raw bits agent provocateur freely colluding immediately hashtashed poppycock smarmy, snooty, snappy beastly capital one ogre blatantly castigating diligent endeavors oblivious pie in sky delusional egotistic haughtiness bobblehead vilified by silent majority.
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*the body is atrophying, rising from the bed is an exercise in handholds, comedy physical wall-grabbing, flail to fall, laughing at myself, still my super quiet whispers in the bed of imminent death go unheard, as somewhat desired, but not entirely, 3/4 tween unsure and surely and surly. the blood don’t circulate fast enough, streams slow, sad songs Pandora accumulates, and Spotify artificial intelligence finds more, certifying a usual unusual, feel dust mites breaking off of me <> *mind running in rivulets, fear floes, courage-drowned, easy stuff impossible, hard, beyond pale, summer melt, drowning in self-disgust, hapless hopeless harmonic wastage every deadline passes, dying, easygoing no screaming, the minimal, hard, past the behind, the pale, the poetry is untraceable, untranslatable and never-good-enough* *the easy out is steps away, illusions are illusory, delusions offer no comfort, stories you tell for amusement, leaving whimsical dreams are practice runs, for the longer run, will shortly come do-due the poem words die on the vine, scorned silence, best is past, appropriate ignominy is red-facial iced, so it goes, no minyan for the funeral, no ten friends* *the query repeatedly reappears, how did I mess up so bad, some part lazy, part afraid, humans, so much effort, the voices-in-head saying, we’re plenty good enough shelter can become a prison, an island, fortress or prison, a salvation pretense, osprey overhead, preying, feeding next gen, hear-’em discussing options when “sleeping,” his affairs in order?, which smile provokes the provocateur* my affairs long dustbin guests, sand and atmospheric disbursed, your next poem probably, granules contained, for this is how all life is transferred, I’m in a tiny minute, in you…
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Jul 17, 2021
Jul 17, 2021 at 11:31 AM UTC
the mind and body crumble, the skin records it all...
*the body is atrophying, rising from the bed is an exercise in handholds, comedy physical wall-grabbing, flail to fall, laughing at myself, still my super quiet whispers in the bed of imminent death go unheard, as somewhat desired, but not entirely, 3/4 tween unsure and surely and surly. the blood don’t circulate fast enough, streams slow, sad songs Pandora accumulates, and Spotify artificial intelligence finds more, certifying a usual unusual, feel dust mites breaking off of me <> *mind running in rivulets, fear floes, courage-drowned, easy stuff impossible, hard, beyond pale, summer melt, drowning in self-disgust, hapless hopeless harmonic wastage every deadline passes, dying, easygoing no screaming, the minimal, hard, past the behind, the pale, the poetry is untraceable, untranslatable and never-good-enough* *the easy out is steps away, illusions are illusory, delusions offer no comfort, stories you tell for amusement, leaving whimsical dreams are practice runs, for the longer run, will shortly come do-due the poem words die on the vine, scorned silence, best is past, appropriate ignominy is red-facial iced, so it goes, no minyan for the funeral, no ten friends* *the query repeatedly reappears, how did I mess up so bad, some part lazy, part afraid, humans, so much effort, the voices-in-head saying, we’re plenty good enough shelter can become a prison, an island, fortress or prison, a salvation pretense, osprey overhead, preying, feeding next gen, hear-’em discussing options when “sleeping,” his affairs in order?, which smile provokes the provocateur* my affairs long dustbin guests, sand and atmospheric disbursed, your next poem probably, granules contained, for this is how all life is transferred, I’m in a tiny minute, in you…
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