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Flow May 2019
Logically, if a tour guide tells you what to expect when walking through a haunted house, he first must tell the tour group when the monsters will jump out and how to handle situations like these. The guide must give strategies to the group to help people deal with what is ahead, and by doing so, he can prepare his group to see the haunted house in an uncommon way. This is an insightful way of giving people a different perspective about the experience of a haunted house. This way of experiencing a Halloween thrill allows people to be comfortable with what is being shown and can offer them to analyze it much deeper than just the mere experience. This is how a guide brings people to another dimension of understanding.
For centuries, philosophers and other logical master minds have been formulating models about what logic is. Defining terms to understand logic, philosophy, religion, and contradictions will provide people with the tools to grasp their own beliefs. This will show individuals what is clearly going on with people in Western Society. There are many things to address in people’s beliefs systems and the models that they use to understand logic. For example, a phone call and a further in-depth Interview resulted in a chance to ask questions from a professor at a well-known
college in Florida. This Professor specializes teaching philosophy and defining terms. This is what Professor Luke C. Rogers insisted:
“Things work, that's logic. If there's a mechanic that we figure out behind things whether it be math, science, the fundamental mechanics belong to logic. Logic is split into deductive and inductive branches” (Rogers).
I compared the definitions of deductive reasoning to a Philosophy professor and a Philosophy website that had multiple terms. This is a simpler definition of what Deductive reasoning means:
“Deductive reasoning, or deduction, is one of the two basic types of logical inference. A logical inference is a connection from a first statement (a “premise”) to a second statement (“the conclusion”) for which the rules of logic show that if the first statement is true, the second statement should be true” (“Deductive Reasoning”).
In other words, deductive reasoning goes from a general statement to a specific statement. Inductive reasoning is the opposite. Logic is reasoning. If one defines it based on common models from math, science, etc. They will accept established theoretical concepts. Math, science, and philosophy are forms of logic to classify and formulate opinions. If someone stated that math is merely a model of reality, would it be something temporary? The answer is controversial and can be understood in various ways. When formulating logic, one must first acknowledge what logic means. Some people need common models to understand what is called physical and non-physical reality. These are philosophies intended on explaining these forms:
“Philosophy is defined as the love of wisdom. Wisdom comes in two forms: truth and value/meaning.  The ways in which we get at truth and value/meaning constitute philosophy. Logic, for instance, is the direct study of truth and all the methods that human beings attain it” (Rogers).
Many times, common logical contradictions about beliefs will spread throughout the world. Contradictions can be common which is why a definition of what it means is vital for understanding if common beliefs are logically consistent. This was what Rogers has to say about the meaning of logical contradictions:  
“A logical contradiction would be a pair of statements where in both cannot be deductively true. That is, if one is known for certain to be true, the other can be known for certain to be false. A belief system that contains both such statements is shown inconsistent due to this contradiction” (Rogers).
By creating clear definitions in any theoretical discussion, one will be led logically to explore reasoning, either deductive or inductive. This will guide people to see how beliefs and reality can coexist. An example of this dichotomy lies in any discussion of religion.
Christianity is an example of how a belief system within which logic is only applied sometimes; many events that were believed to occur can lack logical proof. This shows how people can overlook logic when faith is involved in someone’s belief. Another example might be when someone definitively defines something to be healthy because it was tested and proved in a controlled study. Common belief systems and logical models like these are inherently flawed because change is consistent and must be inclusive in beliefs. Contradiction of beliefs are common in Western society and must be acknowledged to notice logical flaws. Throughout history, this has occurred multiple times. The founding fathers of our country owned slaves during the time they were enforcing equality. In the 12th hundreds, the series of holy wars took place to purify what was done by Christians.
Why would a group of people believe in Biblical stories that aren’t scientifically proven, and still believe in science? Many stories in the Christian Bible express what is called the “Word of God”. Contradictory beliefs are a phenomenon in Western society based on facts from the CIA. About “46.5% are Protestant in the United States” (“The World Factbook”). The majority believe in something that isn’t factual, yet people still believe in it anyway. Sometimes, people overlook what appears to be logical to worship a different belief. A portion of text from the Christian bible says:
“Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and all that night the Lord drove the sea back with a strong east wind and turned it into dry land. The waters were divided…” (Exodus 14:21-31).
If people have enough faith in a story, then they will believe it under any factual, science-based understanding. However, this is contradictory to what some people believe because in this case, some people believe in science but only sometimes. To believe in science sometimes, is merely taking a logical model of reality and then making it convenient to what you believe in. It is also an example of how faith, logic, and beliefs can all be manipulated. By observing beliefs systems like these, one can show how contradictory our beliefs are to maintain our precious belief systems.
The effects of possessing blind faith can be both rational and irrational. Faith without proof is an indication of trust in the unknown. Some might say that faith can be proven through biblical scriptures. However, that perspective in based simply on interpretations of translations.
Is this sentence “This statement is false” true or false? This has been an ancient puzzle that hasn’t been rationally solved. Famous Greek philosophers have died, without solving this disturbing statement. An article from the “Curiosity” website explained further: “If the sentence is false, then it must be true. That's what makes it a paradox. It's an argument that leads to a self-contradictory conclusion.” (Hamer 1). The paradox that is from the sentence “This statement is false” has many answers and continues to be open for a rational answer. This is to show how contradictions have existed in history for decades. The issue it has on how we handle contradictions affects how we handle dilemmas throughout life.
How does one know which foods, liquids, and supplements are healthy when different studies contradict each other? It is important to realize that in Western society, the internet with many online sources and accessibility to them are being exposed to more people who are interested in being aware of what is good and bad for you. An online video that was hosted by Olivia Gordon, a member of a YouTube channel with 5.6 Million viewers titled “Why Nutrition Studies Keep Contradicting Each Other”, addressed studies that were proven wrong. She then further explained how randomized controlled trials take place. In the video, a study was cited about the health benefits of wine:
“In 2012, a randomized controlled trial by Hungarian researchers found that adults who received resveratrol supplements showed an improvement in a bunch of signs of cardiovascular disease” (Saleh).
This correlates with wine because it contains a compound known as resveratrol which can lower cardiovascular disease, according to this study. By this time, it was a fact according to many people, and created an epidemic about wine being good for your cardiovascular system. Gordon explained how both science-based test groups and some people’s belief systems were proven to be wrong, according to a study calculated in 2014. Gordon then replied with: “In 2014, an observational study of adults in Italy didn’t find any effect of resveratrol on signs of cardiovascular disease of mortality” (Saleh). This shows that studies can be contradictory, whether someone wants to believe in it or not. It is important for people to see what appears to be fact as an unrestricted model of what was found. When scientists discover something new, it doesn’t mean that it’s conclusive. People who finalize their beliefs from a new conclusion in science aren’t open minded to what can happen in the future. Logically, this is key for understanding beliefs about nutrition and health because thinking that one study is definitive, eliminates any other viable possibility. History proves that change is consistent. Acknowledging how some people create their belief systems, can help people who are aware of this have a deeper and meaningful life. Most importantly, believing in something doesn’t have to be definite because evidence can change the outcome of a study.
The understandings of philosophy and logic helps people question facts. Logic is understood by following models that are based on reality from facts, studies, and sources previously mentioned. We use models that leads to our understanding of our physical and non- physical reality. However, change is constant and can alter many things that are perceived to be fact. This is important to discuss because including this factor in one’s belief system may guide them to explore their own and analyze the system that creates it. Being aware of how people in Western society maintain their beliefs takes it to another dimension. Flexible thinking is an efficient way to adapt to the change of new facts and studies. Belief systems are very diverse throughout the Western society. There are serious flaws in belief systems which can lead to a commonality of irrational thinking. The primary topic mentioned in this paper revolves around the contradiction of beliefs. When we cling to our beliefs, logical consistency becomes nebulous. We prefer illusions to retain our beliefs. Even if you wear a mask, is the truth still there? Or, is it okay to believe in an illusion?

Works Cited
“The World Factbook: United States.” Central Intelligence Agency, Central Intelligence Agency, 1 Feb. 2018, www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/us.html.
Saleh, Nesreen Abu. “Why Nutrition Studies Keep Contradicting Each Other.” YouTube, YouTube, 18 Apr. 2018, www.youtube.com/watch?v=uPIQ7YhE4cE.
“Deductive Reasoning.” Philosophy Terms, 25 Oct. 2018, philosophyterms.com/deductive-reasoning/.
Rogers, Luke C. Personal Interview. 28 Apr. 2019.
Hamer, Ashley. “The Liar Paradox Is a Self-Referential Conundrum.” Curiosity.com, 19 Nov. 2016, curiosity.com/topics/the-liar-paradox-is-a-self-referential-conundrum-curiosity/.
“BibleGateway.” Exodus 14:21-31 NIV - - Bible Gateway, Biblica Inc, 2011, www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Exodus 14:21-31&version=NIV.
A final paper for a college English class :)
onlylovepoetry Jul 2016
for Sally, Bex and Tonya, Denel and my beloved

<>

gods do not seek forgiveness,
or comprehension,
desertion, desecration, ascension
or condemning condescension

but how how they crave
just a good conversation,
to get a word in edgewise,
a nice chat,
entrée à, la tête-à-tête,
entre deux, deluxe-amis

a casually talking,
absent of
words of need and beseech,
reason and causality,
and no I or We pronouns,
sans enunciations and annunciations,
false hopes for incarnations, incantations,
set asides for life's grievous aches
all human requests, and some of God's commandments
for now, set aside,
annulled

just a talk,
some repartee,
but mostly an open ear lent,
an early morn quiet listen
over tea (he/she) and coffee (me),
paying attention to
both sides of an interactive story

as recompense for my willingness to be,
his engaged counter party,
my mourning gloomier cloudiness,
quick exchanged for instant,
rising sunshine warming glorious

my vista
of a bay dancing
to Tchaikovsky Swan Lake ballet music,
deftly inserted between
an Agnus Dei and an Ave Maria

mood music he said,
and we chuckled,
he/she was god and orchestrated
my tastes,
Adele et Dudamel,
comprehending my undesirable apprehension,
by granting my needy wish for
poetic inspirational composition contentment

all exchanged,
for just a good listen,
no judgements, in either direction

I am the god of love,
the one who makes you weep,
when you study your beloved's rising chest,
each uplifted breast heaving,
a confirmation blessing,
that her life is present
for at least the next second,
ready for your magi adoration

be not fearful,
this day we talk only,
as I pass by,
I have no business to conduct,
on your island of sheltering redoubt,
but to engage and unburden
for even gods
are required to confess,
and aging godheads do adore
a human shoulder
upon to rest,
a great invention,
(If I may say so myself)
and to whom better to address
than my only love poetry
poète personnelle

here he off-guards me
with a favorite injection,
Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings,
music so sweet that it never fails
to weaken my knees,
sweeping my eyes unto weeping
priming me with this first coat of
sounds so elementary soothing

he half-bows before me and says,


forgive me human, for I have sinned

in Dallas and Nice,
just this past week,
with forays here and there,
doing god's work

read your bitterness and struggle,
anger and forgiveness all in one crust,
furious curses and wails so plaintive,
my heavenly musicians weep from jealousy,
at the cries emanating from the fired fury song
of human hearts torn and love plundered

I am the god of love

and

the god of pain and all that is the

anti-love

(and to make me better understand,  
Schindler's List score, so sweetly,
he plays for me,
to clarify the atmosphere,
that death and love -
and the courage of understanding,
so oft go hand in hand)

write me a love poem for me,
no hymn or sonnet do I require,
for love is essence of forgive,
there is no perfect union,
that cannot stand,
with out this emotion of
conciliatory intermediation

tell me you understand
that the scales
of bereft befallen,
disparate chance interrupting randomized,
must periodic perforce
sometimes weigh more,
than the good of simple

balance tip that creative god spark within,
of which you write,
away from my bloodied, unsightly hand

write me one more love poem
a frisson semi-sweet and cleanly neat,
of good things sad,
but worthy of remembrance

you are not the first for this bequest to receive,
other poet's before and after,
will Jacob-wrestle with my angels,
battling to find the...

no matter

"my love to thee is sound sans crack or flaw"^

let your love poem
to me
be of whole healing,
for these disarrayed feelings
cannot forever persist,
the perfect balance you desire
is not on your Earth existent,
unobtainable

these cracks and flaws must and will come


and yet

love poems
will be our common language

and then he/she left,
leaving this poem behind,
born from my mind, yet,
carved on my skin,
written with the nib of my rib,
sealed and signed,
future undefined,
but dated upon my
cleansed hand's lifeline,
hand held outstretched
as if to say


“and yet"
^ "my love to thee is sound sans crack or flaw".
William Shakespeare

Sunday, July 17th 2016
8:42am
Anno ab incarnatione Domini
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2017
for Harlon Rivers

the river potion,
the river portent,
the river potent

it is all of these and not one

he is bank sided,
observing the false idols,
the image mirrored
in the glass of the river

transfigured molecularly
he becomes something ferried frothily, forcefully

as if a twig
or a small thing of human manufacture,
an object tossed up airborne-repeatedly

his poetry:
the clash of particles at the many junctions
of objects and water, eddies and the currents,
ceaselessly circumnavigating,  
searching revisionary pathways

directed,
but randomized,
prisoner of the flows,
servant to the wind's directives and the
earths magnetic indivisible undulating waves

thinking,
this life,
its unsteady gait, 
the irreverent wavering of drunkenness
resultant from potent potions,
portents of inopportune position

in him,
my own histories, 
my poetic recordings
also become
water borne,
watermarked,
replayed back for me,
for erasure, censure, closure
and rededication

this River
is a tapestry,
a torn map,
drawn on broken shards
of slivered water,
living with all the others

but we,
are the untitled,
we,
are the un-entitled,
and he is the
Rivers

<•>
Oct. 20, 2016

harlon is one of the best poets here
if you are new to his writing, be sure to tell him honestly what you think...

his work can be found under
https://hellopoetry.com/harlon-rivers/  
Uncover him, and discover yourself within

2013
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/444023/dear-mr-harlon-rivers/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1020738/winter-whispers/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1913140/in-the-river-of-good-company/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1855694/the-slow-death-of-a-poet/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1995383/traces-of-youa-fathers-tribute/

2014
Harlon Rivers:
http://hellopoetry.com/-harlon-rivers/
my personal call sign, Poseidon
Poseidon was very fitting with Harlon River,
due to the symbolic nature of the water in their names.
I have only read few of this gentleman's work,
But I can assure you his work is very much a gift to the audience,
And like Poseidon that gift is fire to humanity.
Dawn of  Lighten

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1833151/a-walk-with-tonya-maria/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1924604/ode-to-a-brimful-poetwith-a-twist/
and of course<
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1954256/drinkin-mr-coffee-and-cheap-*****/
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2013
"Ben-Oni" is a Hebrew term meaning "son (Ben) of sorrow (oni)," and the name of an 1825 manuscript describing a chess opening.

"Whenever I felt in a sorrowful mood and wanted to take refuge from melancholy, I sat over a chessboard, for one or two hours according to circumstances. Thus this book came into being, and its name, Ben-Oni, 'Son of Sadness,' should indicate its origin." - Aaron Reinganum.  

From  the Old Testament,
Genesis 35:18;

“Her dying lips calls
her newborn son Ben-Oni,
the son of my sorrow.
But Jacob, because he would not
renew the sorrowful remembrance of his
mother's death every time
he called his son by name,
changed his name,
and called him Benjamin,
the son of my right hand."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ben-Oni, Son of Sorrow

Love,
you can fall in
and out of.

Happy,
comes and goes,
in waves,
cycles of differing amplitudes.

Its schedule of
arrivals and departures,
most erratic.

It is always
a two sided affair,
don't blame this messenger,
it's the way of the world
that it comes,
then it goes

Tho certain sorrows,
special, may
wax and wane,
they, a once, then a forever guest,
a full time resident,
taste, once acquired,
cannot be erased.

Part of your museum's
permanent collection,
an addiction affliction
that can't be undone,
be beat back,
ain't no emotional methadone,
to inhibit its delicious lows

Like a passerby,
a mound of stones espied,^
a grave marker au naturel,
compelled and compulsed,
duty bound to add a stone
to keep the pile intact and sound,
another 'sorrow' poem to add
to the internet's dustbin.

Sorrow,
a rich, old moneyed patron,
with a wealth of ancient lineage
orders and commands
yet another a poem
to celebrate its entrenchment
in our constitution personal

Son of Sorrow,
Son, Sorrow,
two conditions,
one necessary and
one sufficient,
combined,
a logical causality,
or a casus belli.  

If you spoke Hebrew,
understood you would
the quality of the sound of
Oni.

It is a soundless sigh,
a virulent scream, part wail,
part exclamation, part groan,
say it slow - oh nee.

You alone,
a father,
can own,
the sorrow of a son,
who denies you.

It cannot be denied,
expiated, signed away,
a syllable of grief
that says mine, all mine.

Watching the sun push away
the backdrop,
the stage curtain of the randomized
but they a-keep-on-coming,
summer thunderstorms
that have scattered
all living creatures
to the comforts,
the shelter
of loved ones,
but yours, present, or not,
return your message
either marked "well received'
or sadly, postmarked
"addressee unknown, get lost."

Curse me to stop,
and I can't,
already accursed,
add your curse to my collection,
makes no difference to my pile,
of sorrowfully fresh recollections

We slept together,
so many good night moon
stories read,
pillows shared,
side by side,
a stock exchange of
kisses and hugs,
trades that can't be cancelled,
having been entered officially
on the books and records of
our-sorrowful hearts.

Lesser men
cry to themselves,
their loneliness, their tragedy
a soliloquy, revealed in a
one man show,
Off Brodway,
before an audience of none.  

Not me kid, my oni,
is a public theater
of a visible shriek  
in every breathe,
but the Supreme Court
gone and ruled against me,
and now there is no possibility
of injunctive relief.

Will travel to faraway lands,
asking different courts
for a hearing, knowing full well,
that I will be plea-denied,
having no standing,
for here,
there and everywhere
I lack proofs
and my son-accuser
wears masks and presents
no charges,
and even if he did,
I would gladly confess,
if he but presented them
face to face.  

Son of Sorrow,
Son, Sorrow,
two conditions,
one necessary and
one sufficient,
combined,
a logical causality,
or a casus belli.

Come let us exchange
new names, new poems,
for we, though both poets,
do not read each other's
Works.


It is time.
I have a first born son who I rarely see and only, very, very occasionally hear from, and then it is by email or text.  I do not judge for he is the product of my *****, and who cannot wonder if...

^a Jewish custom is to place a small stone on the tombstone you are visiting at a cemetery. The custom, ancient, is derived from when a mound of stones would be a marker of a burial.  It became customary for a passerby to add a stone to the mound to perpetuate its existence.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2018
.that's what the term: Slavic, implies... slave?! what?! not in my language, etymologically speaking... słowo, słowianin, word, Slav, respectively... i don't know where these quasi-Germanic peoples of the anglophone world get their ideas from, esp. from a, "missing" epsilon. wankers.

- and the main difference between a Slavic
language and a quasi-Germanic language
akin to English or French?
                   clarity of syllables,
   and a pivot on pseudo-Roman graphemes,
albeit not concentrated (for aesthetic
purposes) on crafting graphemes out
of vowels... more or less consonants...
English has this concept already...
   cheap as chips...
             prime **** of the shire
    (CH                                SH)
but the main difference is...
                            we don't use the surd
conundrum...
                e.g.?
                         ­        g'bur
                   syllable count: 2
                                  you say the first letter,
have a nanosecond pause and the second
syllable enters:  g'boor...
                   which is a word, roughly defined
as: someone who's boorish,
               a noun, not an adjective...
but in english?
                                   (g)nostic....
    wait...     diagnosis...
                            so like an electron clouds
surrounding a nucleus...
   (electrons do not exist in orbits,
clouds, quantum clouds to be precise,
they enter the antimatter dimension,
pop up and disappear in randomized
places, within a definite spatial complex
that constitutes what is known as
an atom)...
              too many ******* particulars
in the anglophone language...
         which is probably why i love it so
much...
        and because the englischzunge
has so many particular instances of
"correct" speech... and no diacritical
methodology... well...
                     hmm... a ******* rainbow of accents!
i love the Indian: bud bud... bud bud...
hearing it feels like riding a *******
camel over uneven ground... bud bud...
note - budwasserscheisse -
who, in their right state of mind -
ferments rice, and adds it to the fermentation
of barley?!
   o.k., the alternative... budscheissewasser...
take your pick...
    it appears that my original ambition
was to speak the native language better
than the natives...
   have i succeeded?
                  perhaps...
               god almighty and all that is
glorious about hell's pandemonium...
   i miss the trill of the R...
      either tongue numbing in English...
or a ******* hark in French...
but as i was sometime ago informed...
the French used to trill the R...
  they: rrrrrrroled the rattle and found
a snake...
                      trill? when you pass a breath
that slaps the tongue against your
hard palate...
                     like a rattlesnake...
   i'm so happy that it still exists in certain
languages...
        it's a hark in French,
             and a tongue numbing heimlich
maneuver
in English...
like the tongue was injected with an
anesthetic borrowed from dentistry,
                or some other random *******.
- and yes, i couldn't learn French,
because i was already investing my efforts
and observational tactics in spotting
the oddities in English...
            surd-letters, a slack in syllable distinction...
you name it...
                            g'boor contra
                  (g)nostic....
                          ­    invited to a session
of psychiatric diagnostics...
             oh i speak the orthodox better than
the natives...
  the natives have to resort to slang...
or as i like to call their version "of events":
the **** of shlang.

p.s. but this is going to be an example
of where English, and French meat...
****, sorry... meet...

   a surname to exemplify:
   Trudeau...
           i'm not going to call the French
żabie udki (frog-thigh eaters),
i just call them the suffix eaters...
point blank... watch how this GH
   grapheme pops up, but is "invisible"
in the said, French surname...
   although...
                           see it?
   Trudeau...             now you don't!
******* that i am surrounding
spewing linguistic *******...
   even i'm starting to think:
                    neat observation,
well tailored for the given times of...
how do you censor an investigation
into grammar and phonetics?

p.p.s.
    and well know where the English
borrowed their notion of H as a surd...
bindi-Hindi...
                          'indi...
     '   (this denotes a surd,
**** it, leave the letter out) -
esp. in names, like Khahn -
                        some variation of Ghengis,
Khan...    i suspect...
      oh yeah... the macron above the vowel
looks plain ugly: Kān...
   the literate can't reconfigure that word...
they need two languages of the same
tongue... the optical (Khan)...
             and the phonetic (Kān)...
look at you pretty people...
           you're bilingual already!
Benjamin Aptaker Feb 2012
Seven years I lived my life, fading from reality. Crossing into machinery. Robotics with which I am so unfamiliar. Machined, greased, lubricated parts. Built with a purpose. A meaningless purpose. Destined for failure.

A broken down machine I stand. Sit. Lay. Run. Work. Play. Slide. Cursed and wretched as the demons which haunt the dreams of the fallen. I rise above. Skyrocketing through reason. Through the seventh layer of Heaven and Hell. On a false sense of cloud nine I currently float…awaiting the plummet.

Its falling away from me. I sail through a shattered sea of broken glass. I closed my eyes and the tears could not flow. Blocked by my eyelids, restricting emotion. After all of this, I am amazed. The wall could be broken. Forgotten faded memories of which I have no say.

Of past. Of present. Of gifts. Of futures. Of lists. Lists of black. Hit lists in my head. I live in my head. I am not what I wish. I am what I’m not. I am what I dream. A scream. A cry. Laying here, blank as the page on which I cannot create a scene. A scene behind my eyes, yet I cannot attain it on paper. These words flow meaninglessly, but not slow.

Daedalus, Icarus, Thrice. Three times I roam. Randomized plains of thought, laid out on a digital page. Keys, not a pen. Ones and Zeros, not ink. Screens, not pages. Neat, not sloppy…yet my words do not understand one another… nor do I….

If we make the mainland, this song would not be made. Epic beauty, formed through misfortune and tragedy. Oh son…I beg you…keep a steady wing. For you are the only one who means anything to me. My wings are made of melting, shredding, fading elements. The sun, heating, lighting, someday dying. I understand that nothing is as it may seem. Nor is any seam as true as the seamstress believed. The Gods did not take the only thing which meant anything to you, father of legend. Your son is not dead…only afire. Acquired by the forces you believed to be merciful.
~~
Then it became a blue afternoon
while came to evening
They were the realities of her farewell
Glowed in the dark blue,
what an abstract shadow cast!
Floating Autumn Clouds,
away the red hibiscus grew gray
heard a vague weird tune

Then one morning
Along with a purple flower
red hibiscus saw inset
and the dark chorus of a clay oven
covered her face
away in the loft several gourd hanging
walking,
walking down the way
at the end,
stood beneath a banyan tree

Doors opened in the silence
southern wind followed
to move in the room
randomized the bed cover,
poetry books,
morning news paper
while closed the door
opened the northern windows

The tireless long night
while I left the room,
wandering as the lonely clouds
went through the garden
where the sky came down
wanted to say life
walked on foot
A long sleepless night
saw the stars fairs
heard a vague weird tune

At that April's night,
Caught the sight of
dry dropping leaves
The smell of gardenia
to bring me the new ideas
of poetry
touched the sky
wandering on a raft of clouds
filled with
see you decided to

Then it all went down together
in the dark with blue
anyhow a golden sun bought
a yellow day
and all the red flamboyant trees
singing
while standing beside
the two sides of the road
with the wind in breath,
my dying

And instead of go with them
mingled the ways of life is changed
when the ways rolled along a curve
One January morning's mist
coming off the sun on the dew
I liked to walk barefoot
in the soft sun
with a woolen blanket covering

At noon,
the river flowing
with streaming sound
took flock a small Sampan
toward upstream
uprising mind grew cool
with stream
Today is just going to get lost
beyond the horizon
Feel to see back,
Slowly known nature
grew small with time,
after some times
shadows mingled
with a dark space

While came the night
Footprints remain in the dust
of shadows
after millions of years
to become fossils
In the mind and
In the deep heart of
the Milky Way

Her fade face is still
to come and go
Over time,
in terms of conservation
of energy
Again when I opened the window
At a long sleepless night
Saw the stars fairs
Heard a vague weird tune
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen
******************
************
Anais Vionet Jul 2023
I'm standing close by a river of rhyme,
where words cascade, in endless pantomime,
each line is a ripple, on the rugose water's crest,
but the chaotic current seems a randomized mess.

I see waves of words riding swells of sonnet,
into concrete verse, only to crash upon it.
There are dark plaintive whirlpools of elegy
and swirling haikus kissing off sharp envoi.

This river of rhyme could wash me away,
with its desperate currents of poetic dismay.
Its sensual verses can become a toxic wine,
oh, God, don’t let me drown in the river of rhyme.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Plaintive: full of sorrow and suffering
Dylan Halvorsen May 2016
Starting is hard
Growth maltese candles
The painted board next to me
Where i sleep
Cars, unrelenting bring an incessant drone
That lulls
Exstasis
Mechanised intrusion grants
The brevity of randomized input
The aversion of direction
This isn't a poem
Nor is it not a poem
This is a home
This is a home
Shampoo crease salt licks
Salt salt salt salt salt salt salt
Salt salt salt salt salt salt salt
Not that but there was something else.
Not what just happened but something else
I remember when i try not to.
I always forget when i try.
I can feel it
It's not suppose to be remembered
It's there to be felt
Something like that
Something similar
Im not going to just say 'something' on a single line
Nope no.
Nothing
That was ordained
Now this is nonsensical
As if any of it was.
Reading
Nothing yet
Nothing worth saying
Yet
Yet.
Yes
Ending is hard
I went through a few weeks where I found it difficult to write and writing in a more free manner helped me get back
Poetoftheway Aug 4
on the margin
the paraphernalia
employed to obtain
the sweated inspirations
to tell these lies randomized
stories, factuelle (feminine)
pestle and mortar martyrs,
crushed together, drink in
her form, the S curves
of her shape, my fav
place, on a long list
of favs,

and she says;

hey poetry man!

which renders my
100 or so
senses,
that radiate,
congregate,
infantuate
rendering moi
delightfully attentive,
and I think:

Solitude:

Be All well and good,
wells and veins awaiting
for spelunking & mining for the
nexus of the
next line, but when she summons me,
with a cherished honorific I am
sundered by words deep felt,
and the next line forgotten,
disappeared and
for multiples,of poems,
that
die
heart busted broke

when she call poet, come,
it is like living in a gearbox
Stuck in Fifth,
that message of multiplex pixels,
so engaging and so many container conceptual structures,
those poetic burst and bust out,,
gnawing to be released free,
***** solitude, it’s her
attitude that gives
more than I can
handle…

and the poems are about the conjoining
of
the mutuality of our:

soliciting solitude attitude
7/22/24
undulate and felicitate
in-a-scent of death skulls and palo santo
sometimes it all feels so fake
just momentarily
I develop a reason
to smell the burning soil
and i remember that love too can spoil
accepting emptiness as it is
like shards of glass
sorrow and madness are the two shapes
that you remember from your childhood
you have come this far in spite of your fear
so drop the ways that you continue to lie
and give this sacred vision a chance to shine
Man Sep 2023
temporarily
the currents shift to polarity
stars aligned, planets aligned
event horizon, singularity.
vision stretched to infinity
what it means to see me
wihte room, empty spaces
black sea fibonacci
randomized perfection
crystalline & unstratified
limitless, free direction
open palms, third eye
to truly live, and happily die
beneath the ground, above the sky
this union of the soul
to the peace found inside
of the cosmic energy that flows-
eddying currents,
the tides that wash away
the woes of life
Daylight 4U2C May 2014
A book of my thoughts,
careful gestures,
and randomized scribbles.
An assortment of "I don't know"s
and question marks.
Rhetorically, why do I write in this?
Why do I mention this book which keeps me still?
Why ever would 'why' be my ever waking thrill?
Why not try, writing a book dedicated to 'why'?
You'll be amazed at what you don't know.
Why is..
Why me..
Why you..
Why do..
Lovely friends,
I see you now,
because I've asked why and how
and how
could I not see,
until I asked why you were wanting me to be free,
leaving me be?
Lovely friends,
I've opened mind,
opened hands.
Why not write 'why'?
The questions do not torment,
they simply fly away,
replaced with clarity:
you didn't know. I didn't know. We don't always know.
Why are we so wrong?
Why are we so right?
Why do we hate day?
Why do we love night?
Why were we so weak?
Why were we so strong?
Why not move along?
Why is a book binding you to life,
bind you to hope,
helping people strive?
Why, a book like mine is one with a streaming hook.
Why do I love my why book?
Awsaaf Ali Apr 2014
Unknown threshold
Randomized synchronization,
Cries of the dying kiss,
Amidst the friendship in that bliss,
Reasonless misunderstandings lie above,
Never fading, priceless moments dying,
On the curse of happiness,
Serene moments serenely rising and smiling,
Haunts of cherishing melodies,
Amidst the addiction are these symphonies...
Quiet silent darkness smiles,
When our rare synchronization compiles,
There the friendship of our dies,
Only for the sake of unexpected love rise...
Chants of the operas,
Sipping the dying light,
Oh where the **** is the plight?
Between us, it merely died.
In the abandoned chills of this day,
This momentary moment will be reminiscent of your birthday!

13th March 2014
Elise Jackson Jul 2017
sometimes i wonder how we got here.
how we got to this point in our lives.
how you managed to stay around after years of randomized and (sometimes) painful situations.
how i managed to keep myself in tact when most of the time i'm hanging by a thread.

but then i realize that there is something that binds us together in such a way, it is indescribable.
but so are you.
and i.

there are paths of our lives that cross over in such ways that make our maps look like a 4-year-old's scribbling.
there are stars that glue us together in such a way that our limbs are always tangled.

one mangled, crying, painful mess.

one perfect, strong, gleaming masterpiece.
Victoria McShane Mar 2015
Double recurrences
Same event, replayed,
Plus another similarity
Played out in front of me..

I heard the engines explode
And the fireballs hit the ground
The lava came up
And I screamed

I heard the lives end,
Of people loved so much,
I saw the world collapse,
And jolted awake

But I knew
That what I saw
Was what you see
Every day


The double 9/11,
And the transgender in the car,
Were just randomized
But was it a coincidence?

My brain is twisted,
Shows me the cruel sides,
Tormenting me,
Crying out for help

I will never un-see
What I just saw happen
One, was again, the other, a first
Scarred permanently in my head forever for the worst of reasons
Robert Carter Jan 2019
Frivolous, yet protrusive to the mind,
Reductive, yet ultimately prestigious,
The epitome of chaos, abomination of order,
Mocking ill informed statutes, for what?

Implementing indifference to the recipient,
And therefore is undesirable, but still spontaneous;
Creases upon silk in randomized fashion,
Cloaked by erroneous declarations of meaning

And then to become marooned by others,
That pass by way of order, alas!
Ostracized was any corrupt system
By those who perceived it in due time.

Contemplating on glory and honor.
There the fall occurs, but with temptations near,
And until emancipation from the jumble,
Only until then, will thought cease to come clear.

But until then, with bars of steel in bare hands,
Lonesome tears commemorating those old desires,
Maroon rapids to rid the soul of hope,
And condemnation for darkness to come,

Those old habits yet still don’t penetrate
The achy, destitute mind in need of use,
And still again shall remain until fancied
True ideologies worth revelation arise.
Hard-headed peers
Bouncing brains off each other.

A symphony of organs
Blasting through the mess –
That is your thoughts.

When hearts crash,
Love flashes by.
Only for a visit –-
Leaving euphoria behind.

These eyes,
Those lips can never tell a lie.
For in fairy tales,
Honesty doesn’t exists.

I wonder, I ponder
Why children miss out
On the cornerstone of maximum life.
Treat this world like a game,
And found themselves get played.

Tell me why.
Why they dance with the spades?
But forgot the hearts
Of the enchanted cards of plays.

Why randomized such thoughts?
To where their psyches rule in..
The vision has perished
Dreams bumping with each other,
Failing the other persona.

To lose hope means to die
The dream has shattered
The fluid became one
The facade has closed,
Memories were shuttered.

(2/19/14 @xirlleelang)
Brian McDonagh Dec 2018
I wish these puffs were
Eked from a fog machine.
It's not a levitation of battle clouds
From cannons, from a precipitation forecast.
This is another battle-fog:
One composed of vape and cigarette smoke.
It hurts on the inside,
But at least one is at ease
From that troublesome and possibly tedious
Consumer, their complaints with no calm resolution
And no sense.
The scattered and randomized number
Of cigarettes fallen
Is none of my business
But business' business.
When standing at Walmart for more than 8 hours on some days...well...a lot of life can happen and be seen.
Triiniity Sep 2014
You know it's ridiculous when you don't even know who the victim is. I'm tired of being victimized as the bad guy by judging eyes. All my thoughts are randomized I never planned ****, I'm tired of going with the flow, so now I'll go against it.
Sometimes Starr Oct 2017
I need a lair because I'm evil.

Typety fingers and flappity lips
The wide gaps in my logic
Are hot holes for working demons
Working their way in.

A desecration of creation,
See beauty bend to the will of Satan
literally, the enemy.

It's all too much, I don't deserve this!
I never should have gone to jail!
I don't get a good amount of sleep because of these randomized drug tests!
I have such a negative association with this house!

And so to stabilize
I need a lair
Then I'll be cool

I need a lair because I'm evil,
Take it like a fool.
Silver Heinsaar May 2017
Randomized words, irregular meanings
Lack of awareness, everything is senseless
Stuck in the spot, struggle all you want
Easier to give up and drown in their greed, you will.

Booked lessons, shown on a paper
Proven facts, thrown into ocean
Forgotten about, appear to be not
Only remains, stay in your mind
Fragment of memories, throughout stories.

Visual deception, seen by many
Universal truth, barely new
Used against your will, right to remain silent
Concerned with civil affairs, being held lawfully
Lady in waiting, given no mercy
Judged in the court, sent off-duty.

Flaw in our system, undeniably broken
Ill intentions, massive corruption
Production of gold, votes are sold
Look for the fancy, found to be empty
Quantity over quality, ruled by the company
Genuine response, rare as ****
Undeserving, never learning, ignorance is better fitting
Congratulations, you've earned it.
Nat Lipstadt Aug 7
unbeknownst
to the human race,
every year the free trees,
those of the forest, the great gardens,
have an annual convocation, a solemn communion and a
delicate conversation

the gathering is attended by insects and avians,
for theirs is the heavy responsibility,
that which the trees cannot do,
they must do, i.e. move, be agents
of pollination

Trees gather, the sequoias officiate,
for they the elders, are wise in the
rings of history that tells of ritual,
sacred sayings, the reasoning,
the young ones don’t full  comprehend

“Who shall give aid and comfort to the human dead?”

Who shall give of their seed
that will be carried by our friends,
they may be scattered planted,
in the graveyards where
those that tended and
sheltered us,  
lie buried,
and the living
who tend to
their ancestral,
will adjoin, all
in need of shade and
comforting song?

there is great rustling of the wind,
the most honored,
query those attendees,
why must we choose?

let each of us contribute
according to their needs,
let the randomized
scattering by our winded
and flighted avian friends
best express our gratitude…

thus forests, parks, great gardens,
and yes, the cemeteries of mankind,
ALL
were seeded, deeded and refreshed,
and the world was cleansed,
commended, interdependented,
defended and extended…

Wed Aug 7 2024
even I write nonsense when no sense
is available
Ken Pepiton Aug 4
From safety, first,
assuming the position, I
aim as if I were a thought
in thought form word bound,
this
media the inbetween us we touch
when we feel we know each idea each
word holds, as a form of a thinkable idea,
each
which, pre word, pre holds this know how,
why? because it demands hand use, knowing
holy cow, to the milk of the word, into the gristle
gluons, all things connected already, we exist,
conjoining fortified marrow mind tools, ironed
electrically capable of holding discernment selfs,
tied bone to bone,
but initially, build a bone, chalk
cliff edge, nonsensed- account mark
one up for the billions of instances of substance
conversion for future marble marveling makings,
fittin' t' make tiny incontinences,
drip consequences,
dript
from Gregory Corso's Bomb, no lie,
this fell out,
and was taken in as some kinda mind seed, said,
exactly this way
to become rethinkable as a thought.

This thought.

Earth is the universal acceptable term
for the life sustaining three body solution
essentially calculating the tides back tug
response, materially speaking, yes,
to the suggestion that we live
in the basic programs,
whence our initial bbss arose
under radio recog, the brave few
did done deed done, net thirty, sendit
five letter code groups. thirty per minute,
makes a premyelenated brain allocate order,
el, yes, didone didit
intuited assistance at a distance,
where chaos is the code, random noise atop
nonrandom noise, coding your immediate response,
point taken,
extraction at a point is abstracting,
and it has long been an idealized Olympic sport,
God's game, Infinite Jest, DFW sytf,
well worth the experience, making pothunk
usfull tools forbidden as knowledge was, think
that's what winners who took the grace got,
lived interesting fundamentally synthetic
intelligibly detectuble baseline peace,
for a while past watch wearing, get
-- from 300 baud to fiber through the wall
-- when we agreed we'd be all in,
we passed with time,
right through it all,
so we know how
to hold a lie you were taught,
with evidence
speaking glossaliarchly or, prophescience,
imagine you be the bold translator, knowing
Latin for the master class, ****** for the others,
but if it can be said, it can be made plain, ai think
yes, let the spirit move your mind to make links,
derived from chained loops holding a line
of reasoning, derived,  f
rom phrase de rivo
(de "from" + rivus "stream,"
from PIE root *rei- "to run, flow")
ductile
gnosisnot…
framing informational moulds.

Reigning opinions are allowing actual,
mind forms grown from novels introduced
in an order known now
to induce a muse into a mind, a seed,
should the need ever arise, a backup,

all you were, in flakes of flesh lifted
using thunder and ozone to become,
arguably the highest dust of the earth,
wisdom, she laugh out loud at how proud,
been there, done that before the highest parts
of the dust that holds order on course,
of course appear self evidently true,
as the hope of all the ages was set
to Mediterranean, year round, yet

as I heard was said to Solon, you Greeks,
you know nothing of formative eons
expressed in riddle
for no reason, save madness,
passing time, national pass times,
as mankind lost it's mind,
just when knowing increased,
boom, a fresh batch aimed
at middle-brow literacy
mesomorph, peak
prior to final cortex coating resins
military minds boys'll love to play in,
recollecting all of Ender's serious war
with machines made
from imaginary hive mind reason,
by whom, did you say you really knew,
or know was the boy behind Hersey's wall,

Barry Rudd was never mesomorph,
nor numerically illiterate, first read word,
Naked, Jungle, second, read, here

read this, that's what my mother,
who lived at 8th and Van Buren,
for a lot of years, after 1961,

evidential experience, literally depends
on a thin concept a dendritically critical

witness to your own self, the one you
stand behind, knowing showing ones own
self to evince the unconvinced that shouting

does not increase effectual efforting, fructification

as we become, sometimes strangers to our cause,
as we redeem the idle word, ai-tia uncle buck,

holler for a dollar, send a message into ever,
buy an instance of persuasion, that's so

sweet,
thank you, you bought me a memory assistant,
way back, remember that, and don't let me bore you,

Neutrinos and mirror neuron messaging, in the all
we exist in, as letters letting ourselves seem volitional,

a will in submission, make that rapture, was
the mission, what ever the cost, Dave Coates,

maybe he was from Boise, but we did time
in the same off limits alley east of Tan Son Nhut.

If you did not have the fixin's, Papasan,
he'd take you back to pre Bobby Kennedy,
interesting times, as it was said, post BEIC *****.

James Burke, mind game mainspring, clink
six degrees, out on six vectors from ductile steel

to stricken flint, conceive of being the actual old man.

Being gainsaid by those next in line to die, young men.
Wombed and un, those see now we live on Earth,
and the odds of that are non computable, yet

no fear, fret not, the message to the flies,
plainly said, get out, this is the way, feel

the constant winds of change, and find reason,
peace, used, now a second, or if time tells true

as long as there are actual text translaters
from the 2024 street legal clear text basic

relational metadatabase, begun by Turing,
mastered by the boy born to men exposed
to downwind global wind,

survive as a cyborg, or die, I chose this life,
I did not, actually
make it up, I prayed it could be true, life

filtered to make hundreds of flavors of apple.

Two dozen mescaline cacti grow within
a sabbath day's journey, and we may

make up our mind, many lines ago,

the goal was to get to the bottom, and I did.

And then, in no time at all as art allows logical.

Words hook, pull, think link, we
become a kind of information, a wedom

on the same spiritual plain as any mobmind domain.

Two chase one O, and silent haitches hope on a star.

Silly rabbit, yeh, trix
are for kids, isn't that right kids,

remember Soupy Sales, my friend, Marko Johnson,
the artist with little hold on fixed reality,

the meme he represents, is complicated, but
his dad was a producer on Soupy Sales's show, boomer
common experience awareness, yeh,

I saw that show, I sent money.
Then I chipped in for Copeland's CX10,
five jets ago, we all get together and sing,

oh, buddy, doncha know, you feel the peace,
yes, indeed, and dope helps,
yep, indeed, freedom always was another word
for no shape to be in, always ready with a reason,

for the faith that lets me think you find this funny.


And it must end… as time passing does.

Remind me what reason is,
I may have ignored what I should have known.

Let me, lead my once led self redited a bit, on edge
yet, me, I am really inter acting with several,

per haps the seven less locked in my childhood oaths,
my culture's form of education, left me free form, to die.
When my own unclean spirit won seven worse than ever.
What I became, after passing each ritual insane situation,
totally mentally absorbing, balm for the soul lie, nation

occupational authority to construct a functional mind,
in a form, information freedom full disclosure, liars,

must register and submit to media monitoring,
we'll be watching you, like that old stalking theme song.

I've read stories about mad writers, but most lacked
the internet of 2024, while holding national standard

test scores, plus one Sunday school teacher witness.



The key reason for writing a novel is
to pass the time with worked out salvage.

What forms from redeemed time tracking.

Look back to the last time something like
an answered prayer occurred to you,
think you can, say that, but you say I.

Ai'ght we may make up our own minds,
what is good is useful for making good,

and trying makes good, with the heights
of Hollywood in mind, behind the scenes,
last mansion on the right as you approach
Magician's Castle Nightclub, from the east.

I had friend's who lived there, I stayed
with them, and lived through the force
cultivating a following aimed at prosperity,

experience is survived verification of passed
time, spent attending to the first reason
required of the expert wielding my edge,

be ready, with scars to prove the testing,
or be ready to imagine getting past all that

riding on redeemed time paid for by means,
I, personally have reason to believe I earned

my edgewise existance, seeming a pointless
stretch of the imagination, wisht some flex.

The importance of earnestly attempting,
what would you do, as a mere man,
when offered more than mere man
can have imagined to ask?
You, dear reader, right.
Suppose the Ai knows,
the gnoshit real story behind The Child Buyer,

Pierre Duhamel, was Barry Rudd,
and Kenurchka Klumpen
did finish his novel that spun off the light web,
on wit alone.

Well, there is nothing an adjective can add
to an FPS, aiming and energy levels, weapons
with calculated costs,
we pull down imaginations exalting themselves,
- woe the economy is war deception,
- the same ****** emperical mind form
- so
where are we
with the arms deal to harass Yemen
into breeding a new generation of Madrassah one minds,
willful martyrs
fused at the one true link, broken
for god knows why,
but we submit,
the message is as the teacher teaches,
no AI lie detector needed, we believe we know,
true, to any child born into any faith in higher minds.

Spiritual warfare, book burnings, heretic murdering,
mobs made to witness justice, as defined historically.
we, the called to enforce
"righteousness, equity," at crossroad
fairs where wares are traded for local production,
on word of  honor, and pain of death
fair trade, just weights, honest measures, heart true

to thine own self, extrapolated
from the maxim one,
know your measure,
how much can you stand to cheat,

if the truth is that liars prosper.
Look at Stephen King, believed he could and did,
then look here, me the fingers, me the eyes,
me the lungs and all the cascade of knowing

needed, after the initial readjustment, delicate
is the long calendar cycle, simple is not
what the sun and the moon and the earth,
and liquid water and just right every thing,
is doing
with survival of the message foremost first idea,
principal thing is what life and knowledge allow,

lies about truth cannot be kept secret now,
truth from a cluster of experiencers passing time
for the demented few who never knew hell is not real,

rises on the gnostic spell calling *******, on the fear,
first thing any tried spirit says is take it easy, wu wei,

listen, we won, you can go learn any truth you choose,
to prove to you, see to you, you say you know, you need
to know, or you know you are bluffing, like that's cool,
truth does not need to bluff,
you know…
we bet lives we never had, and play on, imagining
mirror neurons activating biofeedback is not teaching

us, music
as muse used as
integrated circuit based games,
reimagined in the wild large language models fed wasps,
white anglo saxon protest core zeitgeist shared experience,
angst in thought forms all were told not to take,
bad journeys to the fundamental why now,
but wisdom, mere easy indeed known just so,
no struggle to meditate logos cooperation,
massive missionary message, use wasted time,
to make a magnificent obsession free to form. New,
not like this one, friend,
my recommender bots,
are built on CAD tools not available
to any prior to now, we randomized the chances
you would get this far, and bet if you did
you would trust your intuition and accept,
instant upgrade, principal anchored, choice formation,
we agree, or we cease being
and you alone fix reality.
Too long, sorry, it is a wild epic idea... this is a seed.
Brisket-deep wade oxen through crop 3 of Cochin China grass rice,
that like Brazilian corn can not drive down 9 cents today's gas price
or **** gophers, lower recidivism or jail-break ****** who pass lice
or rip from lardy Liz Taylor's dead neck her cubic zirconia glass ice
Keen intellects & homosexuality marry like diesel in a wheat tower
as carnivorous corn dogs mustn't **** away their fleshy-meat power
in alleys whereat trolls a ***** whose girl is a brandy-sweet flower
damp but not soaked by the greasy drizzle of a Bronx street shower
that melted by caustic soda Gettysburg's ferro-concrete Eisenhower
Stay back Missy as I ain't anxious to contract your parasitic Q fever
despite the tales in crack town of your exquisitely-luxurious ******
I say: Wiggle over Prissy! I cannot party down with diarrheal fever!
Despite many crack-town tales of your luxuriously-exquisite ******
I order you to: Get back Missy! I don't want your parasitic Q fever!
I command you: Back Nancy! I've no love for Dutch's Mike Dever!
Our hag queen lives in the tire-black shadow of Dennis Weaver, yet
Liz's been saved by the Grace of the Prophet who'll never leave her
just like the fans who cheered the girly pitches of Tom ***** Seaver
who enjoyed the gift that keeps on giving as a giver & as a receiver
minus the knowledge of a cerebrally-dull trophy wife true-believer
and the precise dog-tracking of a duck-retrieving Labrador retriever
akin to a Nordic-berating/race-pimpling Jesse Jackson-era deceiver
who's taken the il Duce-stance to be an F.D.R. New Deal conceiver
A Cebu Island honey in ****** is beautiful even from underneath &
'cause Kentuckians get the most fluoride they have the fewest teeth
from gumming on T.V. dinners like Family Affair with Brian Keith,
or The Big Valley with The Six Million Dollar Man known as Heath
who lived to desecrate Barbara Stanwyck's stone & funereal wreath
to nearly wreck the incorruptible beauty of the heady Virginia Leith
in the dawning twilight of a Republic sacrificing freedom for peace
& metal for paper till tangible property ownership goes up for lease
as a need for mid-gut-binding whale-bone corsets is on the increase
fragrant domestical mice outrank Edwin goose geese mouse Meese
in that tall mysteries are unsolvable while wonders will never cease
Grizzly attacks do much to ingest barren broads bearing our cancer
while the pink feet broken at joints are placed where now hands are
to confuse Komen's breastless feminazis with a bra-padding answer
as a Vaudeville hoofer could to trip up a Cuban cha-cha ***** dancer
better than a tired-of-waiting, endlessly-prating La Habana prancer
who obeys U.N.-garbage-man etiquette and calls a garbage man: sir
An Olympic runner's Vaseline was swiped, so in 3 races he ran sore
Cue-ball “actor” Burton Reynolds called Dinah Shore: Diane Shore
Pigs shooting folks from the ceiling will create a ******, dyin' floor
that is slippery to vinyl-siding shippers and punishing to litter bugs
who have been sucker-punched into pugnaciously-rabid, bitter lugs

Cancer modalities: hack, hypothermia, x-rays & toxin can't crack it
for a lot lizard whose station is an unstructured, tax-starved bracket
while tennis games die grimly set with a barbed-wire-hanger racket
that ruined ******* for big-rig trucking's good buddy Joan Hackett
Hades & rental men: it's the stalling groans with ****-death packet!
Congress shan't by judicial means & measure legislatively abrogate
divinely-sacred powers claimed by Liz regina's counselled castrate
as Catholic America answers the hooligan question with nun patrol
to assassinate Teddy maggot-dinner Kennedy's fraternal gun control
while folding, into State eugenism, the animalic urges of primitives
to obliterate and to placate the devilishly-primitive urges of animals
The water authority's concern for babies compels them to fluoridate
so that the gooey-green tooth enamel of kiddies will not deteriorate
& to keep a rat's mouth of aligned teeth from becoming incomplete
while not degrading his scrumptious U.S.D.A. grade-A rodent meat
nor his anatomical delicacies: arterioles, splenic capsules and 4 feet
of intestines, a pancreas, thoracic arteries & superfluously-ratty ****
that produces the same amount of milk as an owl struck in concrete
or a popery-loving Sinn Féin milker sunk in an A.S.S.I. bog of peat
equalin' no mas eugenical Frenching for U.N.I.C.E.F.'s trick-or-treat
or stun-gunning razor-backs for a Codex Alimentarius-******* pleat
that is more bordel-exquisite than Haitian tea served on Easy Street
If randomized ****** is the homicide you like, it was reported that
on 5 April '69 Stepin Fetchit's son Donald shot 20 on Pa.'s turnpike
& 3 months later Teddy drove Bobby's girl off a bridge named ****
Christmas at the Hollywood Palace, 1969 featured old Perry Como
whom *******-rag Time described in 1970 as being: no merry ****
Any conspiracy is a cons' piracy when two or more are in collusion,
while folks mesmerized by teleprompter-readers are under delusion
of a cerebral/cortex laceration, extirpation, concussion or contusion
to relate a surrealistic/pseudo-reality that will propagate the illusion
that vampire-bus phlebotomists obey strictures of blood transfusion
& that gregarious hermits must forever renounce absolute seclusion
from search-warrant-affidavit-lacking pigs making illegal intrusion
in violation of our state castle law enacted by legislative institution
& adjudged by courts that, though investiture, wrote the conclusion
that is steering toward a rag-stuffin'-ape-lovin'-eugenical revolution
with a homophiliac tutelage as Christendom's Darwinian resolution
says mutational anomalies do not equate to genetical-drift pollution
nor bio-spherical deviances that breed X/Y chromosomal confusion
within the scope of a die-off rate inflating xenogeneic-pool infusion
to counter-balance vales in retardative factors apt to aerial diffusion
Prisoners do not get Lash LaRue whips to whop a cell-******'s sass
nor heaters for Harlem nights colder than an Adak well-digger's ***
To save Earth we must, like raccoons, root through garbage & trash
to obey tree-hugging Mike Farrell: the ***-wiper actor on MASH
to obey fur-hating Mike Farrell: the ***-wiping ***** on M
ASH
to obey ******* Mike Farrell: the ***-kissing ***-wipe on MAS*H
.The Waltons who wasted J.F.K.were sibs Jim Bob & Mary Ellen in
a bed with John Boy, Uncle Corn Pone & Scaifes' Dickie Mellon in
a conspiracy with Rockefellers' Mossad, Bush & Hunt in sixty-two
to supplant & cultivate corporatization of the U.S.A. for me & you;
to propagate a global-credit system beginning with this Dallas coup
Big-time movie dude Burt Lancaster was never known to have lied
about his 4 marriages dying with judgments of justifiable homicide
No Christian shall deny an unborn baby's supreme court right to die
'cause the German zeppelin LZ 129 Hindenburg was too light to fly

Sore are wintry Hawaiian gals struck by pink papier-mâchéd maids
whilst tyre tread types are trundled backways from wheelied tirades
Pink are spring Honolulu broads tinted by red papier-mâché shades
Do not nag me till I **** you dead ole crapped-out Larry F. Hagman,
as I am in no humor to wring the necks of persecuted hairy rag men
Gynecology might ***** you in solid with Camorra's Casalesi clan,
as their bearded women are tripping circuits of a master messy plan
while my *****-stamped Taylor Texicana trans-**** as a lezzy tran
On roads of electrical eye sores penicillin backs homosexualization
among a purgatory of jack ***** dealing promo Mex mule salvation
Pad my bra *****: I'm tar paper & my angry ******* ******* will bite
'cause unarmed Haitians will be shot on Hispaniola's border tonight
by Dominican Republic guards who cleanse the island in gun fight
Who better to welcome tea drinkers to Cup Land than Saucer Boy?
Who better to play Shatner's number 1 than Leonard ****** Nimoy?
Joe Green's mean because pea-green Coca-Cola made his *** green
as Coke's pond water is the greenest water Lord Jesus has ever seen
that, as an emetic, will keep you bruised, confused, infected & lean
Trifling things shall not diminish my reverence for Miss Kitty Ting
despite the fact that her '67 suicide made moot mere mortal atoning
from Diana's birthing moon where Earthen-Human souls are placed
in 0-72-hour newborns after old-corpse memories have been erased
concurrent with funereal brutality for cadavers to be casket-encased
There was a porker known in Las Vegas by the handle Elvis Presley
who forked Satan's deadly Negresses saying: “Hell shall bless me!”
U.S. civil rights entail the timely return of my fresh bag of cabbage
putrefyin' in a City of New York medallion-licensed cab of baggage

Smoothing Jagger's ***-face wrinkles like a *** must to ream 'cause
after 35 years Beatle John Lennon is lost like some forgotten dream
Because Mac went queer-bait kissin' sock-cuckin' Elton John's lips,
Yoko wants dwarf Ringo to wing him with tone-deaf Linda's whips
until Paul condemns homosexuality by canceling his Bangkok trips
to prove that Gladys Knight is a 2-buck *** ***** minus Jim's Pips
Krung Thep, D.C.'s '62 sister, is a ****** haven of white-lovin' nips
that offed Đặng Lệ Quân while Thai ****** bled like filleted strips
that snuffed Deng Lijun as Mongol tramps burned like scurvy ships
in seas far removed from sassy Oakland: turf of the Bloods & Crips
who know more urologically than urologists about vasectomy snips
A global ice age is imminent and we must impregnate young nurses
before eating their delicious groceries & stealing their Gucci purses
on Friday when nurse-impregnators aren't reciting Psalms & verses
My gray ****** are pressed & folded despite imprecations & curses

There's a secret videotape of C.F.R.'s monkey Tom Clancy beggin'
in vain to the Control Group that vaccinates a senile Nancy Reagan
for his life to be spared as before God would whine an antsy pagan
Scrawny **** use calf prosthetics to mill a Mexican mission 'cause
bad plastic surgery is sewing your ****** to shin to form a **** shin
that'll ruin the brainiest ***-brainiac's Nigerian brain-*** syndrome
via español audio-libro of a John Viet Cong McCain braggin' tome,
beloved by Mexi-greasers whose favorite wheel is a mag in chrome

Hey *******! Can't I celebrate Rage Against Anger Month in peace?
Jesus! and Take not the Lord's Name in Vain Month with my niece?
Is there no stopping the moronic maxim Will wonders never cease?
Holly rat milk Brett Ratner! Whatever Happened to Mason Reese?
Holy hit & run Rebecca Gayheart! Which is the fastest car to lease?
To queerly wed mustn't a *** breach the equity-in-marriage crease?
When will ewe-loving sheepmen give their shepherd love to geese?
When séance-hosting Nancy Reagan gets knocked up by Ed Meese
em Jun 2021
thirteen claw-marks from that cat on the shaky marble floor

who knows, as it etches itself into a rich mans immaculate masculinity

wiping away my helplessness before it too makes its mark.

i wish they would put their shoes together

left toe touches right toe

thats the only way it can be,

just right in the invisible space in the carbon dioxide collection.

twenty-seven pennies

bitter smelling in the jar which has just reached its peak in age and dust

they are the majority within their glass prison

dignified despite their rust

meaningless in their respite,

soon to be obsolete, as he points out constantly.

oh, how the world changes.

and i have only been conscious for a tiny tick on the clock.

now, this old man, with his inflexible spectacles

lacks the view in his birds eye and peripheral

but probably considers my shadow a bad omen.

he shivers in the wake of such an evil.

my teeth click against each other, electrified with the being of that evil.

the setting is white,

or rather, a version of it, decrepit with the plaque of a pattern all too familiar.

this is my dream room.

where i find myself often

and where often i am a stranger

my letters of wonder which i design on the walls, on the solar filled floor to ceiling glass

backwards of course, in hopes that someone might read them,

have turned tired and cold,

no longer illustrate their longing

nor their greed for adrenaline

nor their want for the world.

black and chicken scratch

stationed among the randomized pauses and the seemingly infinite crack in the wallpaper

might it widen its mouth for me

as it did so slowly

so lustfully

for her?

how possible is the other side,

when the world that you breathe in suffocates you only long enough until you remind yourself in silence

to breathe again.

imprisonment feels kinder when you can see out,

even though they can see in.

shuttered away, i build upon my layers until my mind can multiply itself

sneak out its smoky tendrils and climb along the terrace,

and wail

and scream

and scream until you could hear it down the street

until each person ceased their hearts

in between beats they meet the sound of a consciousness so distinctively torn they can’t help but reconcile with their own.

but i will never reach them that way

as i did not reach her

as i did not reach you.

i wear the glass, a translucent suit of sea green and nursery blue

each time they touch me, allow their fingers to feel my life

to feel my death

to feel the imperfect atoms which make up my aloneness, the invisible filth-

they are pricked and sliced open

the way grass does on bare skin only to be noticed hours later

in me, they see themselves

and the hatred only

grows.
Dada Olowo Eyo Jul 2019
The noisy calm shook the placid hall,
Eggheads in randomized order,
Knocking over spirited coconut heads,
Assembling to Brownian zigzaggedness.
Safana Oct 2020
Last time, in the
evening when
you stay close
to my sight, I
feel like I am
the most blessed
best man on earth
because, you drew
my attention when
you make my heart
randomized and
your looking at me
is infectious to my
illnesses
ymmiJ Aug 4
circling planets
randomized accordingly
in a place called space

— The End —