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sara May 2014
the words we softly whispered
in a language of our own
as we silently ruled our kingdom
from our pillow thrones

i'm cradled in your arms
and the room is dimly lit
as my soldiers lay down their arms
and i begin to let you in

novels of dreams and childhood years
tales of sleepless nights
reports of all my irrational fears
which i confessed by dim candlelight

thoughts that my mind had never before heard
tumbled from my mouth- i was choking
on the brutality of all my honest words
and the ideas which you were provoking

like birds in a cage,
my feelings trapped for too long
and the dust on this page
had been there all along

the first time i was hurt
i swore it was my last
but i begin to revert
with my red wine filled glass

as we slowly drift off into our peaceful slumber
both enveloped by the night
i did, in fact, begin to wonder
if i should confess love by dim candlelight
inspired by and loosely based on lamplight by bombay bicycle club
Carter Ginter Oct 2018
Love is an interesting feeling
And even though I've said it
Countless times to many
It feels different with them

When things are challenging
The intensity is palpable
Racing hearts
Trailing tears
Averting eyes
Yet still we hold on
Emotionally and physically
Wrapped into each other
Until the storm passes and
It transforms from
Seemingly impenetrable clouds
Pouring rain upon us
To a faint and fading mist
Haloed by the sun
And we realize that
Together
We are strong and
Individually
We are stronger still

Whether staring into their eyes
As we wrestle
Or catching the others' tears
Through painful conversations and
Anxiety-provoking confrontations
Every moment with them
Shows me why I'm here
Why nothing else worked out
Through all of the bad days and
Complicated miscommunications
I see them more clearly
I feel their soul more acutely
And I fall in love with them
Over and over again
Purcy Flaherty Jun 2018
"Make lots of noise ~ Stamp your feet!"

Garlic is the **** black, all squares are red, dance the colour blue,
leave your prejudices at the door and let us start anew.

It's not just wrapping paper, yellow triangles or the trappings of wallpaper,
it's radical art; challenging the norms and provoking change!

"show me how you party and I'll show you who I am!"

In just 14 years of faith, form and function; we unleashed the utopian spirit, drinking, creating, laughing and loving, whilst building a Bauhaus for you!
We can embrace the desease that's consumerism and mass production, or choose drinking, creating, laughing, loving and building the bauhaus.

Stamp your feet *******
Bus Poet Stop Sep 2017
the bus poets

we are the modern day chimney sweeps,
the ***** black faced coal miners of the city,
digging up its grit, toasted with its spit,
the gone and forgotten elevator operators,
the anonymous substitutable,
still yet glimpsed occasionally,
grunts of urbanity
provoking a surprised
whaddya know!

once like the bison and the buffalo,
we were thousands,
word workers roaming the cities,
the intercity rural routes and the lithe greyhounds
across the land of the brave,
free in ways the
founders wanted us to be
us, the stubs and stuff,
harder working poor and lower cases

we were the bus poets,
sitting always in the back of the bus,
where the engines growls loudest,
seated in the - the most overheated
in winter time, so much so
we nearly disrobed,
and then come the summer,
we were blasted with a joking
hot reverie from the vents,
but vent, no, we did not!

no - we wrote and wrote of all we heard,
passion overheated by currents within and without,
recording and ordering the
snatches and the soliloquies of the passengers,
into poem swatches;
the goings on passing by,
the overheard histories,
glimpsed in milliseconds, eternity preserved,
inscribed in a cheap blue lined five & dime notebook,
for all eternity what the eyes
sighed and saw

books ever passed
onto the next generation in boxes from the supermarket,
attic labeled, then forgotten beside the outgrown toys
with our names writ indelible with the magic of
black markers

if you stumble upon a breathing scripter,
let them be, just observe,
as they, you,
these movers and bus shakers,
as they, observe you

tell your children,
you knew one in your youth,
then take them to the attic
retrieve your mother's and father's,
teach your children
how to read, how to see,
the ways of their forefathers,
the forsaken,
the bus poets.
dedication: for them, for us, for me
Egeria Litha Apr 1
Thunder booms then rumble into
nausea ripping through my belly
Lightning is almost ready
to leave the house
mulling before a blouse

Barefoot in a nettle spread
I am walking to your supposed love
and tiptoeing on a tight rope
towards your home
Until I reach your door and as you groan
thunder drums a heavy pattern nearby
Inspire me to stubbornly
crack eggshells on your doorstep
Kabelo Maverick Nov 2018
The identity is not correct,
God’s people dishonored
and in a state of aggression,

Geographically topsy turvy,
the history is miseducation

Blasphemy spits in the
face of the Motherland
like mocking the wrath
of a silent Beast

Like scorching the sky for Thunder
We’re provoking Divine Intervention

AND SO IT SHALL BE…!
Maverick
Haueru Jun 29
The skilled user of words, the wizard conjurer that provoke your thoughts.          
I ought to be  sentenced to death.    
For an enlightened mind such as mine for the crime of influencing young minds
You see the Government hate visionaries like me, so they call the disciplinary, to disrupt revolutionaries, COINTELPRO, look them up if you don’t know, for all you conspiracy theorist, I am the head of realist ****, shot calling
You might as well call me Shon the abolitionist.
When it comes to such a wicked being such as me, they call to question my thought for knowledge and I tell them
As the practitioner of hard knocks, my quest for power is almost pestilent; people say knowledge is power  
But what they don’t tell you, is power comes from applying the knowledge
To acknowledge the most dangerous man in the room isn’t the man with the gun nor the thirst for power
But the man in the shrouded darkness waiting to pounce, call me Rockefeller and Rothschild.
I am almost out of time but please forgive me, my mind sits in an higher dimension
My mentality is overpriced that’s why the naïve mind is as common as head lice
As I am the sole provider to the zeitgeist.
Nobody Jul 2017
You’re much more rotten than you will ever claim,
you let bitterness lace every word you say;
and if the day is bright, you can force it to rain.
Bringing a storm with you, that’ll never change.

You want someone to cry, it’ll make you laugh,
you bask in their misery and welcome their sass;
you enjoy poking and provoking their wrath,
cause what they call a fight, to you is a dance.

It never makes a difference what song is played,
what do you care if they're unaware of your game;
since you enjoy making them all move the same,
you’re only happy when you can dance all day.
Purcy Flaherty Jan 2018
My sociopathic mistress ~
Initially she began contacting me over the course of a year or so and increasingly over the last few months she started visiting me, helping me, caring for me and occasionally employing me in different ways.

She’d just had a break up a few weeks before, explaining that things hadn’t been right in the relationship for some time!

She presents herself as respectful, thoughtful, gentle, kind and considerate and after what seemed to be a very short length of time; unexpectedly declared that she had feelings for me; regarding love, admiration, desire and some other adventures.

She then began to bombarded me with love talk; occupying around 70% of my time gaining my trust, I was swept off my feet; as she took a great deal of interest in me, learning everything about me, what I liked, where I would go, always asking what I was thinking feeling, how she could help and I was flattered and she was charming, though a little awkward at times.

As our friendship grew she started sharing her "back story" ~including some tragic life experiences; she vilified her past lovers, and ex-partners and branded them as crazy or bitter liars and troubled souls; gaining my sympathy, whilst securing my allegiance, and keeping me on side; keeping me close. ~ drawing on my compassion loyalty & trust!

During intimate moments she would sometimes seem a little awkward, false or acting a little insincere and I made allowances for this given my knowledge of her backstory. Re~ (The tragic life events & experiences)

She began to chose and buy me clothes outfits, take me shopping gradually altering my outward image and appearance.

She introduced me to her friends but was careful to keep me and them at arms-length, I realise now that she was building an alternative profile of me in their minds.

She soon started to embroil me in her own rituals and compulsive behaviour’s, explaining that tasks needed to be performing in very specific ways to prevent her getting distressed!

She made many promises :
"The hook"
It was my expectation i.e. waiting for some of those promises to materialise that kept me hanging on; This increased her control and exited her too. (None of her promises came to fruition!)

She gradually had a hand in almost every aspect of my life i.e. my home, my work, my friends, family, my finances, the way i dressed, the food i ate and many other things besides, much of which I didn’t realise until our relationship was finally over.

“Dupers delight!” ~ She often took immense pleasure in duping, individuals or a companies out of something through theft, shoplifting, or getting something for nothing, a profiteer, a chancer!
To question or challenge her authority would result in seeing her façade slip and I’d watch her decline into meltdown.
It's at that point, she would lose control of her emotion, lose composure and rational and I would see her irrationality come to the fore revealing the real person underneath ~ childish, contrived and fragile ~ It’s as if control is the glue that holds her together, without it she just falls apart , she can’t be consoled and it’s impossible to calm this situation; and it’s this point she would attempt to regain control by “Gas lighting” me, she would distort the truth in an attempt to damage my self-esteem, to make me question my own mind, my words and any actions , apportioning blame, pointing fingers making me feel guilty, or using hurt, sorrow, shame or *** to pacify or regain control over me and my actions!

These episodes would appear often though irregular and I would always be deemed at fault! ~ She “never” took responsibility or made any apologies for her conduct; she would also go out a lot and lie or bend the truth as to where she had been; I never challenged this behaviour!

When the relationship was finally deemed over! ~
I began to see my new position in the cycle ~ she immediately begin to vilify me in order to give credence to her “New backstory”, I felt very confused, disorientated and emotionally fraught ~“Shell shocked” questioning, how much of our relationship was true and how much was a lie? For everything I thought I knew was now knitted together with a very complex web of loyalties, lies and half-truths.

Her pattern of repetitive and controlling behaviours have seemingly remained unchanging thoughout all her relationships!

Within two weeks of being apart she told me that she had fallen in love (My replacement) someone she’d had her eye on for some time, some-one she admires, someone kept in the background, a friend a mutual acquaintance, and thanked me for bringing them together.
The grooming of her new lover would have come about in exactly the same way as previously described. It's her "MO"!
(Her pattern of behaviours, her techniques are fixed.)

Her parting statement to me was ~ just a playful stab at my heart; in the hope of provoking a negative response which would then serve to validate her new "back story".

She’s incredibly self-conscious, her biggest fear is that other people will find out about her true demeanour, her image and appearance is everything to her.
(She's afraid that people will shun her for being so very different)

Full circle~
I too must join the ranks of the discredited; labelled a liar, troubled, bitter and crazy.

She then secretly contacted my friends, family, fellow musicians.

I suspect that she may even attempt to vilify me with authorities or threaten some form of legal action as she has to others in the past!

I'm still drawn to her despite my knowledge of her sociopathic nature, and all the things that go with it ~ her constant need for attention, her lies, her infidelity and her deceit and I feel no malice towards her.
I'm intrigued  bewitched by the person hiding underneath the façade!
I know that person is far more interesting, beguiling and attractive than the façade!

Now the dust has settled ~
I’ve somehow remained sound of mind, I don’t feel guilty and I’m aware that I’ve been manipulated into thinking and acting in ways that don’t truly represent my character and that I’m just one of many people seduced by a sociopath! ~ Just another natural human variant , a person devoid of true empathy (for others) and that has developed a narrow set of skills and mirroring behaviours, which allow her to blend into mainstream society in order to feel safe, secure and in control!

She would have preferred to add me to the hareem a bank of beguiled individuals that are occasionally called upon,; kept on the back burner in order for her to use in the future or simply to monitor and re-assess her handwork and power over me.

The last time i saw her she began with nervous politeness and finished with veiled cruelty, I left this experience feeling drained, uncomfortable and quite fazed.

I hoped this incite would help myself and others to understand whats transpired once they're hooked; though i'm sure the next person will ignore any pre-warnings as just ramblings.

Individuals are driven by the natural pursuit of love, *** and romance rather than following advice of seemingly bitter ex...

One reason you and I might attract the attention of a sociopath is because we shine like stars !
Stars are both attractive and enhance the image and status of the people around them.

A  sociopath will orbit a shiny star draining its energy until its a done before slingshoting to a larger more attractive orbit!
*** is simply a tool for manipulation or pleasure;
There is no love or empathy only stepping stones!

Good luck brothers & sisters.
She loves to watch you ***!
Carter Ginter Jan 2018
I love you
More than words can explain
I fall for your voice
And how it characterizes your words
We talk for hours on end
About everything and nothing
It feels like time stops
When I'm in your presence
But once we check the clock
We realize it's passed at double speed
Alone we are strong
Together we are powerful
Untouchable
This love outweighs all the bad things
All the difficult conversations
The anxiety-provoking misunderstandings
For once I don't feel the need
To attempt to control everything around me
Because this time around
I trust you
And I trust in us
And that's a beautiful thing
Esther Krenzin Jul 2018
Everything sings of beauty
life
emotion
Building and swelling into something
wild
unrestrained
and free
Enchanting melodies pierce the fabric of
reality
and thought
Provoking a creation entirely new
What once was twists and morphs into
what will be
Lies built so carefully unravel
revealing the ****
naked
truth
The truth that sets fire to the soul
And breaths life into the once aching
heart.
-Roguesong-
-Esther L. Krenzin-
Angelina Jan 12
Take a glance at the marine sky giving birth
To the commencement of the day
And tell me there isn’t a point in seeing its worth
Painting a canvas of endless serenity
Whilst enveloping an array of secrets
Focusing its task of provoking curiosity
Within who we are and who we are yet to be
Why don’t you observe the slight interruption
Of what seems to be
A gap entertained between lingering layers
A bridge between yesterday’s and tomorrow’s scheme
If this is not a light advocating for returning prosperity
I don’t know what is
jdotingham Sep 2018
/  she looked at me from across the table;  her eyes barely still, her thoughts barely able.
i looked at her from across the table; the me she once knew, the eyes are a fable.
                   she asks questions
:
"how you been?"
good.
"doin' much"
yeah. you?
"yeah"
           you can boil the tension and it wouldn't dissolve on a spoon.
            she asks why i chose what i did all them years ago. there's no nuance on the question. there's no 'wavering remorse that things could and should and would have been better' because we both know it probably would've been. unless i got AIDS or some **** like that. she asks the question for closure. thing is though; some doors fail at the one ******* job they are given, like the one in the caravan; sometimes, they can't help but stay open.

i don't know.
"that's not an answer"
i don't know.
"for **** sake! just tell me why you chose that path"
i don't know.
"... but you ******* picked it!"
            her voice raises. people look. she quietens down. nobody likes public displays of drama. it makes people feel uncomfortable. a bit awkward. the little ******* sin of 'i feel a bit uneasy in this social situation'.
i know i picked it. i do. i don't why. why the hell would it. it just sort of happened.
"it just sort of happened?"
yeah.
"you've not changed have you"
changed a bit yeah.
"but not really"
i have a bit yeah. we all do. it's what happens when time mo-
"shut up, please. i'm asking you why you picked that over me all of them years ago and why i still can't ******* escape you. just tell me why, don't turn it into a parade of ******* again. that's your problem is *******, just comes out of your mouth in heaps and heaps and ******* heaps, you hear me?"
you want the truth?
"yes, of course i ******* do. of course... the truth and nothing but the cunting-god-****-truth. swear by god if you want. i still ******* love you, after all these years, i just want the truth; that's all i'm asking for. not the *******"
i don't know why i picked it.
stand alone (as of yet) draft excerpt from "awhiterose".
Tammy M Darby Jul 2017
Thoughts fester and wallow in retrospection
Regret reclines upon your left shoulder
Gloom unforgiving sits upon your right
Prodigious and ever bolder
Attired in the colors of the night

Vacant is the once brilliant soul
It's path freely chosen
Ah unwelcoming heart bloodless and morose
Once pulsating with love and life now infinitely frozen

Indeed it becomes you
As glittering tomorrows metamorphose into yesterdays
Anger devours the futile effort
To unburden one's self of taunting shades
No words of this world shall relay to that which awaits
The unwavering constant confusion
When the moon grows dark on the wane

When Regret at leisure sits upon your left hand
Gloom hushed and brooding
Convenes with melancholy upon your right
Come the watching murmuring somber shadows
Provoking madness in the mind.

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby July 27, 2017.
Terry O'Leary Jul 2015
The dawn unfolds beyond my fractured windowpane
and breezes tease while drapes, like serpents, slip aside
exposing worlds that race and run aground, insane,
displaying scenes obscene that savants strive to mask and hide.

Outside, the streets are stark (last night they seemed so cruel
when demons danced as lanterns 'lumed the lynching tree -
its shadow shuddered, lurking in my vestibule -
within the night, I sense these things I sometimes cannot see).

Perdu in darkened doorways (those which watch the ones that weep)
men hide their shame in crevices in search of cloaked relief.
The ladies of the evening leave (their time to sleep!)
the alleyways, retaining bitter tastes of untold grief.

Soon drifters (distraught dregs that stray from street to street)
abandon benches, squat on curbstones some call home,
appeal to strangers for a coin or simple bite to eat -
refused… gaze down… left empty-handed in the morning gloam.

Observe with me, beyond my fractured windowpane,
the boy with crooked smile - the one who's seen the  beast -
with tears, he stoops and clasps the cross while wiping off the stain -
the abbey door along the lane conceals a pious priest.

While at the mall, Mike sees some cigs, and stealth'ly steals a pack;
the Man, observing, thinks ‘Hey Boy, this caper calls for blood’,
takes aim, then shoots the fated stripling eight times in the back.
Come, mourn for Mike and brother Justice, facedown in the mud.

Fatigued and bored, some kids harass the alley now -
to pass the time, Joe smokes a joint and Lizzy snorts a line;
computer games (which quake with doom) can help somehow,
so Eric plays with Dylan on the road to Columbine.

The shanty towns have hunkered down as if in mortal sport
while broken bodies' shattered bones repose supine,
and mamas (now bereft of child) in anguished pain contort,
their eyes drip drops of wrath which wither on a twisted vine.

Now Mr Baxter, private bankster (cruising down the road,
pursuing profit pushers, waving magic mushroom wands),
adores addiction to the bailout (coffers overflowed)
and jests with all the junkies, while he's dealing with the bonds.

Marauders man the marketplace (with billions guaranteed)  
while kids with swollen bellies beg neath hollow sunken eyes,
and (cut to naught) the down-and-out (like trodden beet roots) bleed.
Life's carousel invites us all, though few can ring the prize.

A washerwoman, timeworn, totters from the tram -
she shuffles to her hovel on a lonesome distant hill,
despondent, shuts the shutters, downs her final dram -
a magpie quickly picks at crumbs forsaken on the sill.

Jihadist and Crusader warders faithfully guard the gates,
behead impious infidels, else burn them at the stake
(yes, God incites each side for good, the other side He hates),
with saintly satisfaction gained provoking pagan ache.

The watchers pry behind our fractured windowpanes
inspect us all, tear down the walls of privacy
controlling every point of view opinion entertains,
forbidding thoughts one mustn't think, with which they don’t agree.

Come, cast a furtive glance… there's something in the far…
from towns to dunes in deserts dry, the welkin belches sudden death
by dint of soulless drones that stalk beneath a straying star
erasing life in random ways in freedom’s final breath.

But closer lies an island, where the keepers keep the wards.
No sense, no charges nor defense - a verdict? Yes! … grotesque -
the guiltless gush confessions, born and bred on waterboards.
Impartial trials? A travesty instead, indeed quite Kafkaesque.

Now dusk draws near beyond my fractured windowpane
while mankind drowns like burnt-out suns in fading lurid light;
and scarlet clots of grim deceit and ebon beads of bane
flow, deified, within the rotting corpse of human night.
Big Virge Oct 2014
One ... Must show ...
.... " Composure " ....
when facing ... " Exposure " ...
to ... Ignorant Heads ... !!!!! ...
"Showing" ... Disrespect ... !!!!!!

Like those ...
QUICK to run ...
Their ... "jealous" ... gums ...
who ... ACT ... as though ...
They Fear ... NO FOE ... !!!!!!!

There's ... ALWAYS ONE ... !!!!!
who will ... succumb ...
to ... Provoking You ...
through ... " Shady Moves !!! " ...

The ... Type of Fool ...
who can't deal with ....

... " Truth " ... !?!

and runs ... A Show ...
that is .... " A Joke " ....
because their ... flow ...

..... Through .....
Speech ... or ... Prose
is ... Nothing More ...
than ... WEAK and Flawed ... !!!!!

The type ... who lick ...

******* ... ******* ... !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A **** Type ....
" Neo-Fascist " ....
who keeps ... His ...

.... " ******* " ....
CLOSE TO HIM .... !!!!!

Just like .... George ...
and .... Mr. Blair ....

These ... "Evil Types" ...
are ... " Everywhere " ... !!!!!

Offering ... Bribes ...
to ... Dummies Inclined ...
to ... " Towing Their Line ?!? " ...
of ... " Corrupted Designs ! " ...

They're ...

Greasy .... Slimy ....
Sneaky ... and ...  Grimy ... !!!!!

The type ... whose death ...
Won't Be ... " Untimely " ... !!!!!

" What's Wrong ... with them ?!? "

Well clearly, they ....
Have got ... PROBLEMS ... !!!!!

Some ...
Try To ... IMPRESS ...
through their  ....
Use of ..... Text .....
when they should ... accept ...

that their prose ... is ...

.... " Worthless " .... !!!!!

"Classic" .... FOOLS ....
who make ... Wrong Moves ... !!!!!

Just to ... make you ...
Lose your ... cool ... !!!!!

When ... dealing with them ...
" Composure's " ... The Tool ...
that makes them start to ...

..... " Hurl Abuse " ..... !!!!!

and ... continue ...
to break the ... RULES ... !!!

" The Rules " ... of ...
....... The Game .......

that ... CLEARLY ... State ... !!!

RESPECT ... is ... EARNED ... !!!!!
NOT ... Taken ... OKAY ... !!!!!!!!!!!

These FOOLS ... can't take ...

" Truthful Wordplay " ....

So they .....
Choose to display

" Aggressive Traits " ... !!!

when clearly ... They ...
should ... Know Their Place ... !!!!!

Watching those ....
who ... COMMAND ... The Stage ...
with ... Ease ... Composure ...
and .... Such Grace ...

That ...
WHATEVER ... They Say ... !!!?!!!
Leaves ... Them ...

..... Upstaged ..... !!!!!!

" Jealous Ingrates " ....

who think ... because ...
You've ... Walked ... AWAY ...
that ... You're ... AFRAID ...

which is .... Ofcourse ....
Their ... First Mistake ... !!!!!

There's .....
ALWAYS ONE ... !!!!
who is ... So Dumb ... !!!
that their own actions ...
Leave them .... STUNG .... !!!!!!!
and in .... The End ....
cause them ... Problems ... !!!!!!!!

If they were .... " Clever " ....
They'd use ... Their Heads ... !!!
and use ... Their Pens ...
to prove that they're ... " BETTER " ...
than ... " Butting Heads " ... !!!!!! ...

But .....
They choose to ... REJECT ...
Butting ... " Intellects " ...
cos' ... They KNOW ...
that's a ... " Test " ...
that's ... BEYOND ... Their Best ... !!!!!

That figures .......

" Oh Yes " ... !!!!!

because they're ... " INEPT " ...

So they ... Choose to ...
Make ... THREATS ... !!!!!
as well as ... " Disrespect " ... ?!!!?
... " Respected Poets ! " ...
who they know ... write poems ...

Waaaayyyy ABOVE ... !!!!!!

Their attempts .... !!!

They think that they ....
are ... WINNERS ... !!!!!!!!!

When ... CLEARLY ... they ...
are ... SINNERS ... !!!!!!
who are ... Absolute ...
....... BEGINNERS ....... !!!!!

Who ...
NEED to ... Learn ...

to ... SIMMER ... down ... !!!

It's Not ... Their fault ...
that they ... are ... " CLOWNS " ... !!!

But .....
Threats of .... ASSAULT ....
May ... bring them ... DOWN ... !!!!!!

So ....
REMEMBER ... These Words ... !!!!!

They're ... WELL OBSERVED ... !!!!!

Their ... IGNORANCE ...
has ... NO DEFENCE ...
and just ... CONFIRMS ...

Their Lack .....
of ... " Depth " ... !!!

Their ... ARROGANCE ...
Drowns ... " Common Sense " ...

which ... In the ... END ...
They may .... REGRET .... !!!!!

Their movements ...
....... " SMELL " ...... !!!!!!!!!!

of ..... " Jealousy " .....
because they ... write ...

" WEAK POETRY ! "

That ... SHUNS Truth ...
and ... " REALITY " ... ?!!!?

It seems ... " The Truth " ...
Hurts Fools ... like ... THEM ...

..... " Therefore " .....
... " Their School " ...

is one for people ...
with ... " PROBLEMS " ... !!!!!

So .....
Now ... This Piece ...
has reached ......

It's ... " Closure " ...

The Moral ... is ...

when dealing with ...

" Human Insects " ...

Don't get ... TENSE ... !!!

If they choose ta ...
... " Taunt Ya " ...

Ignore them ... YES ...

and show .....

.... " Composure " ....
I'd suggest, A PRICELESS ... commodity ...
Right about NOW !
Hygor Marques May 2017
You are fire.
And I can burn
the warm of the title at the start.
Could you? Burnout?
Cause you still burns me inside.

It's ironic how you like it cool and fresh
You're not cool and you're not air.
You are fire.
A breath inducing and breathtaking
hell of a paradise.

Constantly I spread around:
"Fire is my favorite!"
But you never understood.
You always thought that is a childish reminder,
like this poem.
But it's honest.

I couldn't reach you last time, you know?
I felt like a kid running over a flambeau.
And you figured me out.
You saw under the flame mask,
You made my Icarus task,
and I fallen down.

After all this time and I'm not consumed.
Maybe a fool and maybe a loser,
but you're the vanity of my veins.
And you're slowly provoking me again.
Could you teach me how to fire?
Could you? This time? My dear...
I bring reinforced wings.
Philipp K J Dec 2018
It was funny to see banners Wishing Happiness displayed with cinematic glamour, the pictures of liberty-Banner heroes.
But the one at Tannery Road junction was peculiar to mention

Here it was common
The captions Happy followed by names of sundry festivals
Local  and national.
But in bold print the name of a hero ARUMALAI outshined the caption and the hero's larger than life picture embellished with the photographer's digital brushing skills.

A passer by wondered who'd be this Arulumalai, Is he so great to be so advertised?
An ardent social worker working for social needs?

His deeds may be greater than these banners'd project.
But never ever heard of him anywhere than in these frequent banners at the Tannery road junction.

Each one passed by his casual glance attracted
provoking  protracted ruminance
What this expensive banners do?
In another occasion
the  glaring glorifying picture of ARUMALAI followed the tag Corporator
posing like a DICTATOR.


Banners changed with seasons with the wishes for Religious festivals
For reasons

But one day a strange banner took the place at Tannery junction
Not wishing a festival of any kind
But a notice stating the sad demise of ARUMALAI the BBMP corporator.

"He was sick and the local dispesery advised a minor operation.
He was administered
The necessary treatments. But referred to a super-speciality centre and his sad demise was advertised, he was forty.
His chummies complained of medical negligence", was the only news summery in major news papers...

What was the reason for the minor surgery
What're the preparations for the corporator's  operation
All are mystery for a  causal itinerary passer by
at the Tannery road  junction who wonder at the type of banners that come and go to brood for a while, the stopping time over red signal, till the green comes for him to keep passing by....
Nat Lipstadt Aug 19
Alaska:
“though the whole world should be mad at once
though the elements should be changed, though the angels should rebel: yet verity (irrefutable truth) cannot lie.”  
                                                         ­                  Erasmus of Rotterdam

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for BJ Donovan, a fine, fine poet
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verity, irrefutable truth, cannot lie,
or belie it’s non-contradictory nature,
even, in a small airport, a one runway affair,
somewhere in Alaska
ribboned tween icy crags and dagger-ous peaks,
low cloud coverings of sub-zero visibility,
that inquire, in an indigenous tongue
of the flying fool pilots,

“really?”

if I or you ask me why I’m here,
Alaska,
the answers come in only three Heinz varieties,
true or false positive, no differentiation needed,
the other, is called
“one who doesn’t know how to ask”

you know him,
the simpleton, the simple one, me,
who can’t frame the question without

risking that he frame himself

betraying and displaying his woeful ignorance,
a veneered confidence of knowing so little about much

in the shed, a/k/a
‘the terminal,’ we wait,
me and an ex-Buddhist priest,
head stubble shaved, of course, round horn rimmed glasses wearing,
stone washed jeans blue, the color of his eyes,
reflecting mine as well as the blue glacier ice
surrounding us both, we,
the extraneous human eagle interlopers

showed him the Erasmus quote, provoking one of them,
thin lined, whimsical, eye-glinting smiles of those
who know the answer
to the knotty ones, or,
know better, that knotty questions one asks himself
when high up in the mountainous glacier ranges,
get answered just by silent patience

he smiled for an eternity of
at least five minutes,
my heart pulsating big time,
this modern man anticipating, in his calm, dulcet two tones,
his understanding of another ancient translating another,
even more ancient, speaking:

”the world is indeed mad,
through neglect letting the elements warp, glaciers melt;
the angels have indeed rebelled at the
foreseen fated falsehoods perpetrated,
verity,
torn asunder,
and the line between balance and imbalance,
so jaggedly ripped in too many places that verity a victim
so badly assaulted, its face is no longer identifiable by AI, worse,
so covered, dying, undiscoverable.

but you ask!
ask of yourself, asking of others, and tolerating
uncurled, uncut uncertainty, you retreat and reconsider,
this then is your answer!
it is the
ASKING,
that is verity, itself! there can be no lying thing in the
quest of questioning
that accepts, rejects, and unceasingly asks again^

this is a the only irrefutable truth and what it asks of you:

never accept the illogic of belief, let your own eyes be the best judge;
ask and ask thrice, be satisfied that being disastrously dissatisfied
is the norm, the mean,
the line toward a perfection that may not ever exist(ed)
for our flaws define us, thus so much greater is our truths when we
we reshape them, ourselves, for verity itself is not so hard to find,
but the finding of one self is too difficult for most


for asking is too painful,
too primordial, and why I am no longer a priest nor teacher,
but a simple observer of the answers that can be found in the
silences of places,
the Alaska’s inside of us,
where nature’s sets
an open table for anyone
wiling to just ask...”
8/18/19
S.I., N.Y.

^”It is not in the asking, but in the searching and wrestling that we gain clarity.”
Shades of Yellow Sep 2018
What once is now was
My feet tread delicately over egg shells
Balance on unsturdy tightropes
My body's equilibrium thrown off
My legs shake like an earthquake of emotion
From outer to inner core, I see
A slimmer of green light, my american dream
I am the Great Gatsby
Holding onto a bit of the past
Desiring it to become the present
To the future of mine
Yet with soft words
I am met with inevitable flames of anger
A rage so powerful, so dangerous
So provoking, prodding me like a cow
The man I was born from
Whom is supposed to defend me
Is one that destroys me
His words conform, turning into a wrecking ball
Slam into my heart, destroying it
Pieces fall down like pebbles tip, tipping against a lover's window
Except it taps the windows of Satan
Awakening unknown, terrifying horrors
As bottles clink, can crash, alcohol splatters
So does the confidence I once had
mbm
Stella May 17
The words whispered to him
Condoned choice
Callings are pre-determined
And thus,
Accidentally straying from fate,
Only the old who wrote the book
On beholding the untold
Could aid the escape of our Living Receiver

Behind his absent eyes
Cerebral devices splice
his dreams and memories
Concocting criminal schemes
And fictitious beliefs
Provoking defiance in face of his deficit;
Obscene offences against an act of
salacious pretence
Donning falsified bones on a
Deep black slab of cotton
ode to donnie darko
I ran for the bus -
late again -
it took off even quicker than you did
and I felt myself walking along steady with the breeze for company
no real conversation there -
provoking thoughts to spin endlessly in my mind
which they did -
from time to time.
Randy Oct 2018
My pipe.....
It smokes often enough.
A simple yet mysterious thing.
People notice, yet don't seem to mind.
My pipe.... Elegant? Common?
The fragrance brings old memories.
My pipe....
It fills me with pleasures.
It fills me with thoughts.
Thought provoking a pipe is.
Grandpa's originally.
Lightly used in his days.
It is the thinking man's tool.
His weapon? Of sorts.
Mine to enjoy. Mine to ponder.
My pipe.....
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