"publications" poems
I had to walk out of physics today,
make my way to the back of the room
shoot for the door
with my hands on my hips.
Just started pacing.
I just stated pacing and pacing and pacing.
I followed the thin grey lines between the linoleum tiles
with my toes
counting every second I was out of class
and weighing that against how many more it would take
on a chance against hell
to get me back in there again.
I wasn't smart.
I never had been.
I just filled in bubbles correctly and I wrote
all the right things on a convincing, cliché
college paper.
I don't even know why I took physic,
but it sounded like a good idea when I was eighteen
and scared
and had some woman with a long braid screaming at me,
"advising" me that it was the "right direction."
I didn't even know who I was then so how could she.
I could mouth off a good response or two and I
probably embody every great literary character
in commercial fiction that is
the guy in the grey skinny jeans reading Shakespeare
in the corner of the dining hall.
Well, I'm not.
I'm not some stereotype for your next
creative writing assignment.
I just happen to think my *** looks good in skinny jeans,
I actually hate Shakespeare,
and the corner of the dining hall has the best air conditioning.
It's that simple.
There's your answer.
But my fingertips were shaking and my mind was racing
and there I was
just pacing and pacing and pacing
because this
is ********
This class is ********
This college is ********
And the whole world
might as well be ********
right along with it.
I never went back into class that day.
Which ***** actually because I lost a good backpack and calculator,
but in the long run it worked out alright
because here I am
writing this
and getting paid for it,
not that I'm greedy or anything
(I get paid a whole lot if you care to know)
but I'm writing more than just about
that day I couldn't breathe in physics class.
I'm writing to tell you
that there's quite a great deal of superficial things in this world
and if you find yourself a part of it
I'm demanding you leave.
Leave your good notebook, your steady job, your filthy marriage.
Leave it because it's actually true no matter how stupid it sounds
that life is too short
and things that are real
need to be attacked and clutched onto
if you want them to last.
I guess I can thank that institution actually
for teaching me everything I never wanted to know,
and for getting me to where I am
with multiple publications, a book signing or to, a beautiful wife,
three kids, a screenplay, oh
and a big
F U
to those that said I would never do it.
(Dr. Hefer, that means you).
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 12:17 PM UTC
# 935
This is what it says
on the front
and
on the back
of
my newest
bookmark.
On one side
the number is green,
the other side
shows a
red number.
It used to hang
from the rearview
mirror.
My car was in the shop.
The problem was minor,
but set me back by $65
nonetheless.
So,
I paid $65
for bookmark
#935.
The cashier swiped
my card and didn’t
look me in the eye.
I swiped
my new bookmark
and felt just a
microscopic
bit better
about
the
money.
Not
really
though.
***
-JBClaywell
© P&Z Publications 2019
Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 9:08 AM UTC
Free unrestricted journal publications
Words are bombs, dropping ink and paper
Typeface whistle blower and in your face
Chasing stories and truth, free the gonzo
The revolution in print, internet, television
Notepads, computers, and wi-fi
Liberated publication for all open eyes
A world of free thinkers and literary fact
No comment from the silent advertisers
Their payment in truth concealing lies
The United Censoring Of America
The political principles of censorship
Glory or death, guts and congratulations
No justice, no peace, no surrender
We’ve got the voice louder than power
The accuracy of enigmatic liberty
Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 4:02 PM UTC
The car and I,
we made our way
into the downtown
portion of this Midwest
mini-metropolis.
The sun was out,
snow melting,
and it sounded a lot
like rain as everything,
everywhere
dripped and plopped
creating a slurry of
grey road juice
that hissed under
the tires as we
passed by.
At the intersection
nearest to my friend’s
shop,
there was a refrigerator
box that had been
tossed in the street.
It,
like most things,
was on its way
to disintegration.
The red letters
that were inked to
the sides of the box
had started to run,
making the box look
to be some kind
of suburban roadkill.
I wondered briefly,
as the next holiday
rounded the corner
if the contents of the box
might be a gift.
Or…
Maybe a:
********* The fridge is shot!”
kind of unexpected
expense.
Either way,
the car and I
had other destinations
to reach.
So, I let my thoughts
wander still
as the tires turned
underneath.
“What would it be like to climb the steel stairs
on the sides of those buildings nearest
the scrapyard?”
Someday,
I’ll find out.
Surrounded by the steam
that comes from those buildings
doing whatever it is that they
might do,
I’ll smoke a cigarette,
count the pigeons that land nearby,
and think of the best way
to tell you all
about it.
***
-JBClaywell
© P&Z Publications 2018
Nov 30, 2018
Nov 30, 2018 at 5:12 PM UTC
English Translations of Russian Poems by Vera Pavlova
Shattered
I shattered your heart;
now I limp through the shards
barefoot.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Seasons
Winter―a beast.
Spring―a bud.
Summer―a bug.
Autumn―a bird.
Otherwise I'm a woman.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pygmalion
Immortalize me!
With your bare, warm palm
please sculpt and mold my malleable snow.
Polish me until I glow.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Scales
Scales:
on the one hand joy;
on the other sorrow.
Sorrow is weightier;
therefore joy
elevates.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Muse
A muse inspires when she arrives,
a wife when she departs,
a mistress when she’s absent.
Would you like me to manage all that simultaneously?
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Stone Wall
You, my dear, are my shielding stone:
to sing behind, or bash my head on.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fluttering
Remember me as I am this instant: abrupt and absent,
my words fluttering like moths trapped in a curtain.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Flight
I have been dropped
and fell from such
immense heights
for so long that
perhaps I still
have enough
time to learn
how to
fly.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
God saw
it was good.
Adam saw
it was impressive.
Eve saw
it was improvable.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Three versions of Vera Pavlova's "tightrope" poem:
I test the tightrope,
balancing a child
in each arm.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I walk a tightrope,
balanced by a child
in each arm.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I test the tightrope,
balanced by a child
in each arm.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Vera Pavlova is a Russian poet. Born in Moscow, she is a graduate of the Schnittke College of Music and the Gnessin Academy of Music, where she specialized in music history. She is the author of twenty collections of poetry, four opera librettos, and the lyrics to two cantatas. Her poetry has appeared in The New Yorker and other major literary publications. Keywords/Tags: Pavlova, Russian, translations, epigrams, woman, female, shards, seasons, scales, tightrope, child, arm, sorrow, joy, shattered, heart, broken, glass, limp, limping, barefoot, snow, sculpt, mold, polish
Mar 20, 2020
Mar 20, 2020 at 1:25 AM UTC
I don’t like knowing
that there’s a YouTube
channel out there for
gun-nuts called “The Warrior Poets”.
I’ve looked at some the videos.
None of them have anything to do
with poetry.
I guess that’s okay,
but,
I still don’t have to like it,
so I don’t.
It does give me a reason
to write down the fact that
I believe that I,
in fact,
am a warrior-poet.
My friends are too.
John, Hans, Larry, Kristopher,
and Josh…
We’re a gang.
We’re a conclave,
a klatch of bare-knuckle
sophists, street-wise surgeons
of verse drunk on our own power.
Beautiful bruises,
pooled blood,
split-lipped
ripped pages
broken pens
shattered lenses.
We’re the dogs of war.
***
-JBClaywell
© P&Z Publications 2019
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 5:14 PM UTC
when in the world’s leading democracy
a new president starts his office with
making life more expensive for average home owners
signing orders threatening the health of millions
restricting the publications of researchers
denying global warming
encouraging coal and oil companies
forbidding federal employees to talk to the media
going on fantasy trips about “alternative facts"
to justify his ridiculous lies
blaming the media when asking questions and checking facts
barring leading media companies from press conferences
waffling about his Russian connections
refusing to release his tax returns
ordering to build walls to keep out all those aliens,
like the old Chinese did, to little avail
issuing poorly formulated presidential orders
causing confusion and harm and even deaths
banning even green card holders from entering the country
filling his cabinet with all the alligators from the swamps
he promised to clean during his campaign
people who know how to avoid paying taxes and beating the system
but have no clue how to govern now that they ARE the system
and think they can run the USA with its 350 million citizens
as Trump&Cronies;, USA, Inc.,
like their private family businesses, for profit
courting kings and monarchs & wannabe sultans in the near east
'democratic dictators' in the far southeast
and wannabe czars in russia
but hesitating to confirm ties to old allies
in Europe, NATO, and the Far East
suggesting that having undeclared secret meetings
is quite OK with his campaign team members
his son and son-in-law
[ctd. fron line 2...] it is high time to seriously ask
what concept
if any
of democracy he has in mind
Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 5:11 PM UTC
Early summer's eve
Green ash leaves on blue sky and
seagulls wheeling 'round
(c) White Mountain Publications 2012
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 12:42 PM UTC
Vera Pavlova: English Translations of Russian Poems by Vera Pavlova
Shattered
I shattered your heart;
now I limp through the shards
barefoot.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Seasons
Winter―a beast.
Spring―a bud.
Summer―a bug.
Autumn―a bird.
The rest of the time I'm a woman.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pygmalion
Immortalize me!
With your bare, warm palm
please sculpt and mold my malleable snow.
Polish me until I glow.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Scales
Scales:
on the one hand joy;
on the other sorrow.
Sorrow is the weightier;
therefore joy
elevates.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Muse
A muse inspires when she arrives,
a wife when she departs,
a mistress when she’s absent.
Would you like me to manage all that simultaneously?
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Stone Wall
You, my dear, are my shielding stone:
to sing behind, or bash my head on.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fluttering
Remember me as I am this instant: abrupt and absent,
my words fluttering like moths trapped in a curtain.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Flight
I have been dropped
and fell from such
immense heights
for so long that
perhaps I still
have enough
time to learn
how to
fly.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Three versions of Vera Pavlova's "tightrope" poem:
I test the tightrope,
balancing a child
in each arm.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I walk a tightrope,
balanced by a child
in each arm.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I test the tightrope,
balanced by a child
in each arm.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
God saw
it was good.
Adam saw
it was impressive.
Eve saw
it was improvable.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Vera Pavlova is a Russian poet. Born in Moscow, she is a graduate of the Schnittke College of Music and the Gnessin Academy of Music, where she specialized in music history. She is the author of twenty collections of poetry, four opera librettos, and the lyrics to two cantatas. Her poetry has appeared in The New Yorker and other major literary publications. Keywords/Tags: Pavlova, Russian, translations, epigrams, woman, female, shards, seasons, scales, tightrope, child, arm, sorrow, joy, shattered, heart, broken, glass, limp, limping, barefoot, snow, sculpt, mold, polish
Mar 20, 2020
Mar 20, 2020 at 2:37 AM UTC
Children,
all of me was all for you,
from towers I commended,
from basement I sympathized,
and god,
how I find all of me,
missing all your adoring stares.
I stood by,
I watched your birth in the garden
all those years ago,
and how your cries floated to heaven,
and how heaven answered with meadowlarks,
I handed you the apple,
I kissed your brow,
you would coo and grasp my coat,
I felt love, you felt vital.
I waged war,
with all the saints and arthouse critics.
We drank their blood by the moon
and our temperate speech
did flow from the fount,
under the table we were,
grew we did,
proper adolesence looking for
classical supremacy.
And Children,
I know the darkness was always creeping,
crippling every satellite, every sandy shoreline,
withering us in mirror,
you asked if the tide could claim us,
I patted your shoulder,
kissed your hand,
there is no enemy capable of victory,
oh, how the prophets betrayed me.
When your compliance was absolute,
when our neighbors pledged allegiance,
when I crushed the throats of Solomon, Gilgamesh, and
the sons of Zeus,
leagues made banners,
few made poison.
I gave you slaves,
girls, and sport.
I gave you a voice,
blankets, and victims.
The crowd and chants,
my pride and concubines,
the grass never faded,
nor the flowers wilted.
Children,
why did the publications turn against me?
I erased the existence of all you wanted dead,
I gave you dreams,
I gave plenty to sup,
plenty to remain drunk,
Children,
why did the prophets lie to me?
The priests carried daggers,
preyed upon me,
prayed for my passing-by,
the stares were there,
empty of adoration,
only hungry for my sacred blood.
I watched seas of my own,
pull down every cast,
my form laid to waste
on the streets I built under your feet.
My royal guards
chained my hands,
I could only stare at my blue veins,
my royal guards,
dragged my feet,
and in the senate they made me watch,
as my record was blotted out.
As the sun set,
the streets were lit
by effigy.
As the sun set,
I found myself in
the garden.
I stood straight,
back to a stake,
all eyes on me,
all shouts for me,
all the rage,
effigy, effigy,
they poured pitch at my feet,
they said prayers and incantations,
the flowers were in full bloom,
and the sound of buzzing flies buried
the cries.
I tried to be a friend to everyone.
Now history's vapor,
I tried to be a friend to everyone.
Oct 15, 2010
Oct 15, 2010 at 11:13 AM UTC
when in the world’s leading democracy
a new president starts his office with
making life more expensive for average home owners
signing orders threatening the health of millions
restricting the publications of researchers
denying global warming
encouraging coal and oil companies
forbidding federal employees to talk to the media
going on fantasy trips about “alternative facts
to justify his ridiculous lies
ordering to build walls to keep out all those aliens,
like the old Chinese did, to little avail
issueing poorly formulated presidential orders
causing confusion and harm and even deaths
banning even green card holders from entering the country
filling his cabinet with all the alligators from the swamps
he promised to clean during his campaign
people who know how to avoid paying taxes and beating the system
but have no clue how to govern now that they ARE the system
and think they can run the govnerment of the USA
with its 350 million citizens
as Trump&Cronies; USA, Inc.,
like their private family husiness for profit
it is high time to seriously ask
what concept
if any
of democracy he has in mind
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 3:41 PM UTC
There was egg salad in the fridge,
half a container of that store bought,
neon-green guacamole that nobody else
likes but me,
tortilla chips too.
So, we sat together and ate
this hodgepodge lunch,
the dog and I.
She never once complained
that there were no crackers
or a few pieces of soft, white
or even dark, crusty
pumpernickel bread.
We thought about whatever
it was that we thought about
while we chewed thoughtfully.
I looked up the word: tincture
in the dictionary that I keep in my
office,
right off the kitchen.
A friend of mine had used the word
in correspondence, and I was rather
embarrassed that I’d not known what
it meant.
But,
I found that embarrassment wanes
when one is scraping the last few globs
of guacamole out of the container with
one’s finger and is saddened because
the accompanying tortilla chips have
been reduced to crumbs.
The dog wasn’t embarrassed of me.
She was busy cleaning the remnants
of egg salad from the inside of the
old butter dished I’d packed it away
in.
I’d already packed what had been enough
for a decent sandwich away in my guts
using tortilla-chip spoons,
doing my best not to ***** more
silverware than I had to.
The hour was almost up;
I had to be back at the office
in about 15 minutes.
We,
the dog and I,
took this small measure of time
as an opportunity to listen to a
couple of songs…
one by Iron Maiden.
the other by John Coltrane.
While the discs spun,
the dog wiped any excess
egg salad or tortilla chip crumbs
from her muzzle
onto
the living room carpet,
by sliding around
on her face.
It was funny to watch.
I’ll have to be sure and not
tell Angela about it.
Soon enough,
it’s once more around the yard
dear doggie,
a Marlboro for me,
another few hours at the office,
little friend,
and I’ll sail back home
to thee.
***
-JBClaywell
© P&Z Publications 2019
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 5:32 PM UTC
Mad in my envy.
Mad in the irrational stresses of "love".
Mad at all the happiness I isolate.
Mad with the visions of success.
Mad with my prewar publications.
Mad with your gestures of bliss.
Mad in how we can't get carried away.
Mad at how the money always talks back.
Mad when I am making this a monologue.
Mad when I haven't crossed the minds of
strangers.
Mad when they declare the eyes of reason to
be obscene for the children.
Mad at the fame that they call existence.
Mad when I see the lackluster descriptive
lies within their Bibles.
Mad that you became the society we
******
Mad toward the rebirth of the minister's
daughter who sang for forgiveness and
love but lied about both,
Wasting our time on useless Norwich
sonnets, and naming the theoretical
infants—
Wouldn't anyone be mad as hell?
II. GENESIS.
Beautiful in your powerful gaze, upgrading
constantly, tossing me aside, casting
countless new euphoric darlings into the
void since my dismissal.
Draining each meaningful vein from the
poor souls who fall under your magnetic
pull—who want to brave the human
castle (floor lined with pitfalls) and then
you, *** Incarnate! Most perfect
amongst us! Blessed be your Godly
word, you execute them with joy!
Holy in your immaculate beauty, dear Saint!
Now it is your time of reckoning.
Happy Birthday.
Don't forget who made you.
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 1:26 PM UTC
Vampires
by Michael R. Burch
Vampires are such fragile creatures;
we fear the dark, but the light destroys them . . .
sunlight, or a stake, or a cross—such common things.
Still, late at night, when the bat-like vampire sings,
we heed his voice.
Centuries have taught us:
in shadows danger lurks for those who stray,
and there the vampire bares his yellow fangs
and feels the ancient soul-tormenting pangs.
He has no choice.
We are his prey, plump and fragrant,
and if we pray to avoid him, he prays to find us,
prays to some despotic hooded God
whose benediction is the humid blood
he lusts to taste.
Published by Monumental Moments (Eye Scry Publications), Weirdbook, Gothic Fairy and Raiders’ Digest. Keywords/Tags: vampires, fragile, creatures, stake, cross, dark, darkness, light, bat, bat-like, shadows, fangs, pangs, prey, blood, lust, lusts, red, lips, night, voice, sings, darkness, evil, incarnate, soul, hell, tormented, pale, eyes
Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 11:32 PM UTC
Late fall, grey skies and
just enough snow on the road
to swirl and blow
c. White Mountain Publications 2011
Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 5:38 PM UTC
Those times I would write poems and submit for publications,they were all rejected, but now i have found my thing And I am living a Superstar lifestyle , my name buzzing everywhere. Poems that have been rejected are the ones now trending
Thank you HP family for making me a better poet. Many love to you all. To all who comment, love, like my poems you are the real Superstars
Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 10:17 AM UTC
Our observant minds will be the best and worst aspects of any relationship. I don't know if you notice how your fingertips curl at my waistline, but I do. Don't stop that heaven even if the devil is in the details.
8:21am turns to magic when you put the sun in our eyes via white screens with bouncing letters. "Good morning, babe" was all I ever needed to transform me into a morning person on the weekends.
Never underestimate the Power of the Pen. You told me the stars on the island reminded you of my beauty; worthy of a dedication page. You didn't find the time to say goodbye; worthy of being written off.
Inspiration comes in the darkest hours. Give me something other than desperation to grace my pages with at 4am.
You will never disappear, even when you do. Forever engrained in journals and failed publications, as we all wish your memories could smear as easily as pen ink
we're just not that simple.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 8:19 AM UTC
So here we are again,
sitting by our fireplaces
waiting for yet another story to be told
waiting for yet another mystery to be solved
a mystery of politicians corrupting the world
and while you are wondering the answer to the above questions
I will start the story for tonight....
This story begins from a myth that is made by the story tellers worldwide.
Its about cats...
If this raises suspicions then it will be all the more better.
Cats are the feline masters
Smallest in their family of cats
and the most agile pet they roam where it pleases them
but this one cat Oscar was very different
This cat liked to drink blood instead of the usual water
It killed more mice than ANY other cat in town
This was very strange because, well... its a house cat
House cats don't **** mice...
But because the cat loved blood so much,
It sometimes went out of bounds and killed a few humans.
And once a person saw him attack a human
He rushed to his help a little bit late
The human died on the spot
Though it was considered abnormal behavior
it was ignored.....
Months later people kept reporting being attacked by CATS
everyone who owned a cat was supposed to either exterminate it
OR
give it to the government
EVERYONE chose the latter thinking it would save their "precious" cats' life
Little did they know those cats would be used for experiments
Years later,
The Government published their article of "Why the cats behaved the way they behaved"
All the previous cat owners read it over and over
trying to console themselves saying - "It's just a disease, it's just a disease"
But the Government had forgotten to take ONE cat
The very cat that had caused this trouble
They had forgotten to test...
And it was this cat that managed to ask the other cats to help it overthrow the Government
because of its wrong publications about science on cats.
Their plan was almost immediately foiled because the cats were killed on the very day their plan was supposed to take effect.
and while this cat (Oscar) isn't remembered today
We need to remember him,
because he was one of the first of his kind of rebellers.
The first...
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 7:36 AM UTC
No concern for the frowning faces, even though some expressed sadness with their teardrops, frantic moods in rushing vision based thoughts, encouraging me to leave. And it’s alright to rip their hearts apart. To who I praise is the bearer of light that can illuminate any individual. With no delusion I devote myself by choice too, because to the contrary I’ll be enslaved to morals that are predetermined with no freedom to move around in. lurking in my dreams, still when I’m waking, I’m alive in forever. It’s calming in the abyss, providing space to meditate, turning hour clock pouring down the sand grains as a representation for how long Lucifer had been fighting for the hearts of humanity. The only deity one can meet before my timely earthly death. Hope you don’t get mad at me, I told him you have dreams to be fulfilled, he says he’s looking for foot soldier, knows they can but won’t say ‘no’, told him how much you like it from behind.
(checkout some of my current publications on Amazon. Just search 'Darcy Prince'
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 8:38 PM UTC
Full dark; late autumn
Lights flicker yellow and white
on Grand Traverse Bay
(c) White Mountain Publications 2012
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 12:47 PM UTC
Late winter at dusk
Blue-white puzzle pieces float
Mosaic in ice
c. White Mountain Publications 2011
Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 5:42 PM UTC
Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Lebanon, Mexico, Syria and Palestine, Fiji, South America, South Pacific, California, United Nations and Bhutan. Therefore, this common symbol of the HIV/AIDS epidemic 9 (7) 251002013 is that trial period. 2016, Syria, Palestine, United Nations, United Kingdom, East Africa, Africa 7, 2016, Yassin (Asia) and other years 2016, Aspergillus niger is a fungus and one of the most common species of the genus Aspergillus. It causes a disease called "black mold" on certain fruits and vegetables such as grapes, apricots, onions, and peanuts, and is a common contaminant of food. It is ubiquitous in soil and is commonly reported from indoor environments, where its black colonies can be confused with those of Stachybotrys; *** / AIDS affects health. Is the city long enough and the competition is 3-18-18 and 19-5-40, 6-13? 60; 35, 41, 60 John 2 (blood). 1 won the victory in the village. By 2018, 15, 15, teachers and students are weaker, brave and younger than 60 days ago. "201 to 100 memorabilia 1 60 60 60 16 16 16 16 16 16 16 16 UN, Macedonia, South Africa, Africa and Libya, Lebanon, Mexico, Syria, Palestine and Aids 9 (7) 16, 2016 and 2017/1000 / 1000 / 2000 California, Syria, UN, 16, 16 and 201 Germany and 7- 100 200 South Africa) 2017 200 000. 2017/1000/1000/1000 VHU Care for Others in Baghdad 77cv Adults are Benefits 1 in This can be fast and Both, 6-13 years 5: 1-14-18: 41-60 and 60-40 with 60,000 60-60, 0-2 minutes with 60 people and From Person Point to View, the others are in low temperature (5) and 15 in Latifa, 2016 and "Mexico" are sworn. "Well, about a car. "For example, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Lebanon, Mexico, Syria and Palestine, Fiji, South America, South Pacific, California, USA, *** / AIDS 7 and 9 and Kenya, USA, Aspergillus niger 2016, 2017, Syria compared to the city 13 -13-19-40-40-3-18-18 60 and the United Nations, the United Kingdom and *** / AIDS will not have any impact on health and *** prevention. 2. Blood and some furniture in 2018 And these buildings are coming to be less than 15 and 15 years old and will be among his teachers and students. "In February to 60 days, Africa, West Africa, Africa and Libya, Lebanon, Mexico, Palestine and Work 6 / Africa are not good for all tasks. Western Syria and Palestine and Yemen 16/1000/1000/1000 UN. For example, the differences between the United Nations and Germany, for example 16161100200 in South Africa, 7/201 201 201 201 201 201 2017 7000 000 000 200 000 CCC *** / Baghdad. She followed me here. 1. PROGRAM, PUBLICATIONS AND COMMUNICATIONS. 6-13 people: 5: 1-14-18 41-60 and 60-40 and 2 2000 of the human eye. Strong pistons (5), modern skimmers. In 2015 for 15 years prostitutes. "Philippines". Here are some of us. Take for example a "car", Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Lebanon, mexico, Syria and Palestine, Fiji, south america, south Africa, California. USA, USA, Canada, East Africa, 7, 2016, Peninsula, Nigeria, Unfortunately, *** / AIDS and *** / AIDS. The city has six-day behavior 3-18-18 19-5-40 6-13; 60; 35: 41: 1. 60 John lives in the village in the brain's grip. By 2018, 15 teachers and 15 students will be weak, violent and "only for the first 60 years" in the UN, South Africa, Libya, Liberia, Mexico, Palestine, APPLE, AIDS, 9 (7).
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 10:41 PM UTC
when in the world’s (supposedly) leading democracy
a new president starts his office with
making life more expensive for average home owners
signing orders threatening the health of millions
restricting the publications of researchers
denying global warming
encouraging coal and oil companies
forbidding federal employees to talk to the media
going on fantasy trips about “alternative facts"
to justify his ridiculous lies
blaming the media when asking questions and checking facts
barring leading media companies from press conferences
waffling about his Russian connections
refusing to release his tax returns
ordering to build walls to keep out all those aliens,
like the old Chinese did, to little avail
issuing poorly formulated presidential orders
causing confusion and harm and even deaths
banning even green card holders from entering the country
filling his cabinet with all the alligators from the swamps
he promised to clean during his campaign
people who know how to avoid paying taxes and beating the system
but have no clue how to govern now that they ARE the system
and think they can run the USA with its 350 million citizens
as Trump&Cronies;, USA, Inc.,
like their private family businesses, for profit
fraternizing with kings and monarchs & wannabe sultans in the near east
'democratic dictators' in the far southeast
and wannabe czars in russia
but hesitating to confirm ties to old allies
in Europe, NATO, and the Far East
suggesting that having undeclared secret meetings
is quite OK for his campaign team members
his son and son-in-law & cetera
nominating well-known union busters
into the Federal Office of Labor
and a billionairess widely unaware
of the existence of non-private schools
as Secretary of Eduction
banning grandparents. grandchildren
as well as aunts and uncles
of gratuitously selected countries
from joining their families in the USA
believing that the US president & his cronies
stand above the law
[ctd. fron line 2...] THEN
it is high time to seriously ask
what concept
if any
of democracy he has in mind
Jul 19, 2017
Jul 19, 2017 at 12:35 PM UTC
There is still a magic of the rituals, especially when we’re vibing together, stimulating an extreme climate of moods and intense thoughts, that I sweat out blood, consolidating the past to my parent of my future, Lucifer for I’ve meet you before death, through lalent needling threads dusting aura in a silhouette of temptation that backs itself up in forms out reality fulfilling meaning. For the mysteries of mysticism isn’t replaced, just enhances, at least now I have forever to understand, while I’m formed into a symbol of light, where illumination is and I praise in the darkness. The Holy war provides more complex, while it’s veil is simple. People cannot win the world by using the world to fight for their purpose for society in false revolutions. Humanity isn’t worth fearing. I’ve peaked beyond the curtain and saw only horror on both sides of good and evil. It’s frightening to see what people do for their side and personal success. Do not feed into their fear. You have mind, use it, live your life, before they take your life, there is a lot more enlightenment within yourself. As for me siding with Lucifer, for he hates all religion, ideology and culture, uplifting individuality to allow them to master of their own realm.
(please checkout current publications on Amazon. Just search Darcy Prince for titles.)
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 8:10 PM UTC
We’re the heavy eleven.
Think about that number for a couple of seconds.
It’s a pair of ones, side by side.
When people talk about couples,
significant others, they often say something about
two people becoming one.
I’ve always liked the idea of two ones.
Two single and separate entities becoming a
recognizably different thing, yet still able to be
autonomous.
What an enormously human achievement.
And,
the achievement in no way has to be relegated
to romantic partners.
We can all be friends, right?
We can have each other’s backs, yeah?
Support one another?
Thick and thin, and all that kind of thing?
Home team?
Visiting team?
Does it really matter?
I’m one.
Me.
Alone,
You’re one.
Alone.
Independent.
Relevant.
Real.
Like the ones
in the number eleven.
One. one.
Two ones.
Side by Side.
Each holding the other up.
Supportive.
Encouraging.
Together.
The heaviest
of
elevens.
***
-JBClaywell
© P&Z Publications 2019
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 4:44 PM UTC