"ranting" poems
Oh the fun we had as little six year olds,
Laughing loudly and acting crazy,
Staying up till the wee hours laying on the floor watching Hairspray
Oh the hyper times we had as ten year olds,
Sipping a little too much caffeine,
Running around acting like animals in the front yard
Oh the crazy times we had as twelve year olds,
Not afraid to get down and *****
Camping and sliding down dirt in the ravine
Oh the terrifying times we had as fourteen year olds,
Living together for a whole week,
Trying to **** each other with words shortly after
Oh the bonding times we had as fifteen year olds,
The darkest time in my life,
Where we cried and I knew we would always be friends
Oh the lively times we had as sixteen year olds,
Both getting our licenses,
Driving around everywhere just to take fun pictures
Oh the tiresome times we had as seventeen year olds,
Sitting in your car before school,
Ranting and laughing about every aspect of life
Oh the amazing times yet to come,
Attending college and growing older,
Still talking and ranting and laughing like every time before.
Dec 24, 2016
Dec 24, 2016 at 10:26 PM UTC
Skeleton bones in the closet, no, not I, I got live bodies locked in chains. In the spirit of Halloween, I'll wear a hockey mask and be that obsessed killer. Teenage kicks, listen close for the screams. ****** from neglect, ****** because of reject, ****** brought on by me always feeling depressed. You called me names, you tortured my spirit, you ****** me like the idols you worship. I've worsen since i started feeding on your hate. This is my manifesto. Are you scared? You should be. Because I won't take the ranting rambling bigotry you speak. This will be something straight out of a horror scene. The plot thickens, foreshadow what's next. If you think this story is fiction well it's not because we live in a cold world and I'm only giving you a description, a depiction of what words can do, I use mine for assistance, I learned to listen, I hope you do too, because you can create a monster with the powerful words you decide to use.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 4:00 AM UTC
While you cover your profile pictures with transparent flags
ranting how terrorism should stop
retweeting and reposting those gory pictures of the victims
keeping up with the latest news
and trying to flow with the trend
like if this was the new ice bucket challenge
but with blood water.
In all honesty,
Do you really pity the victims?
Do you really feel the sorrow?
Were your families even part?
Were your friends even part?
Were you a part?
Or are you doing it for the sake of Likes?
Only truly
if you hate terrorism,
act like as you really do
because you look stupid,
hating what social media tells you to hate.
And only truly
if you hate terrorism,
You would do something more than a click from social media.
If terrorists terrorize to change the world into their own,
what are we doing to change ours?
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
Drama like rats biting at my ear. I can hear them confiding in me their troubles, yet I am not willing to listen. I'm tired. So very tired of all their musings, ******** screaming, ranting. It's not that important, it stupid, silly ignorant. Life is so much more then this petty childish behavior from full grown adults. I am not a leader of a team, I am a babysitter. But here I am, ranting about them as they do others. Am I no better then they?
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
she’s the girl who sets a room on fire with laughs or real flame,
and she stands in that same flame; ranting about herself
with blissful intention:
aries.
she’s the girl who mows the lawn all day to throw a memorable party
on perfectly pitched grass; but then spends the entire party
with that one guy on that one roof, just the two of them:
taurus.
she’s the girl who ***** you fiercest only to then display sudden and
crippling bouts of madness; she’s one of a kind, or two of a kind,
and she means some kind of love:
gemini.
she’s the girl who you fall for so easily, and she falls for you so easily,
and everything is a dream; but a dream transforms, seasons transform,
and the peopled cities with them:
cancer.
she’s the girl who steals the show every time, and she leans on you
when she’s tired and lonely; she reads science fiction books
and tells you all the endings, strange planets fixtured in her dreams:
leo.
she’s the girl who thinks too much, drinks too much, and weighs you for all
your words; but words are her demise as she digs her arms deeper
into the dirt to catch that feeling:
virgo.
she’s the girl who piles a shrine of shiny occult objects and spools through
men like shiny other objects; she has a beautiful heart, holy or not,
but without a doubt, entirely stylish:
libra.
she’s the girl who doesn't believe a ******* thing you say but kisses you
harder when you say it; she takes you up the hill to her folks
and they sacrifice you for blood mana:
scorpio.
she’s the girl who knows you best and knows even better she’s far beyond
the depths of your league; she has deafening dreams, with or without
you in them; for ruins she will climb or create:
sagittarius.
she’s the girl who buys the popcorn and eats the popcorn and sulks on
the couch while tonguing kernels out of her teeth; she will never
truly love you, just the idea of you:
capricorn.
she’s the girl who saves your life with a tracheotomy when you nearly die
on that plum street seed; she will leave you for a another man, a man
with a good rifle and a warm little tent:
aquarius.
she’s the girl who sees synchronicity in all things, all life, all dreams
and emanations; she will love you until the smell of mexico drags her
away upon a neverending weekend:
pisces.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 6:38 AM UTC
I'm not looking for love,
Not even one fanatic idea,
But somebody I could talk to,
About things most consider a trivia,
I want to celebrate small things,
Share the moon in the sky,
Find happiness in our old habits,
Silly ranting, overeating, being shy,
A place far away from this town,
Where the clouds are clear and white,
Weekends under the lights –in the city,
Laughing away the fuss everytime we fight,
Nights discussing the dark theories there have been,
And many more yet to come,
Cold feet –the sound of burning fire,
Face glowing with smiles until it goes numb
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 8:03 AM UTC
i go through this daily plot
waking, working, trudging
first world ease, office walls
wheeled chairs
afternoon run
tupperware lunch
dinner the night before
home again, dinner
dishes again,
play again,
daughter picks up
new phrases, new looks
vegetable strainer toy
"umbrella," she says
i see those eyes, my wife's
and i wonder
what is this place?
these walls, these roads,
those sitka pines and shrinking
glaciers?
how 'm i supposed to be a father
with all these things stretching out
vaster than reason, than comprehension
those talking heads, ranting this or that
liberty's ***** freedom's snatched,
the world warms, the world cools
Filipinos scream in the face of angry
winds, the prim cut weatherman wildly
gestures at a colorful map, powerful
he says, historic
he says
more dripping mouthes,
government want guns now,
more money to ****** our phones
to send unmanned drones
our president's muhammad,
or jesus, or kenyan, or raciest
a genius or incompetent
everyone knows
just back home
a tiny algae grows and foams
thrashing in the autumn water
brown oxygen choking life
never found on our shores before
kills fish,
i imagine so much more
i hold my daughter in my lap
reading mother goose,
run my hand through her
thin smooth hair,
sometimes afraid
of what she'll see and hear
with her mother's eyes
and her father's ears
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 3:10 AM UTC
Someone said my monkey's dead,
But confusion hit their head,
Made them think that this is true,
I'm in a funk, what can I do?
Then they soon told my neighbors, yes,
Put my monkey to the test,
Called the papers just long enough to say,
Yes, my monkey ran away.
I searched high, and I searched low,
Dropped a rock upon my toe,
Hit my head on a doorway hard,
Couldn't find my monkey in the yard.
Traveled to the mountains nearby,
Looking for monkey made me cry,
Saw the clouds come floating by,
A speck of dirt flew in my eye.
Checked the traveling circus troup,
For details on missing monkey scoup,
Learned that he had traveled through,
What am I supposed to do?
Boarded a boat set for the Indian Ocean,
Got sea sick from the crazy motion,
Tried to eat, but it all came up,
Couldn't drink the swirl in my cup.
Once in Africa, deep in the jungle,
Searched for monkey and took a tumble,
Found a panther hiding in the bush,
Felt flat hard upon my ****
So, no monkey, not anywhere,
Does the world so truly care?
Waited patiently in a Star Bucks shop,
In came monkey and my coffee I dropped.
Called him by his first name, Charles,
Saw him stare and then he snarled,
Ran so fast for the door, he did,
What a silly and audacious kid.
Ran pursuit down a cobbled stone road,
Saw my monkey drop his precious load,
Screamed at him to stop and say,
Where he goes on this very day.
When my breath was heavily panting,
Stopped my call and my ranting,
Figured if he so desperately was going,
No more to care and no more knowing.
Monkey, monkey where are you?
Are you hiding in the zoo?
Will you ever be around?
You're a silly, slippery clown.
Feb 19, 2011
Feb 19, 2011 at 5:33 AM UTC
Waves roll in, pounding surf
Speeding along below the grey skies.
Spewing **** screaming ******* songs of sadistic “self-control”
According to angry-woman, assessment of everything outweighs any enjoyment
Waves roll in, pounding surf,
Speeding along below the grey skies
Red in the distance reflects the ranting repulsive requiem that redefines our ride
Learning loses love and lacks life when you demand ludicrous lapses of logic like lectures,
Busy-work, bad business that burns the brains of brilliant children. Breath in, breath out. Listen.
Don't burn out. Let the waves wash over you
Waves roll in, pounding surf.
Speeding along below the grey skies.
Only human. The sky is clearing, but in this car you become a demon.
Only human, beneath grey skies.
Waves roll in, pounding surf.
Jun 15, 2011
Jun 15, 2011 at 8:43 PM UTC
Its been while since I've thought of you
Since I've wondered how you've been
Since I've seen your face
Its been a while since you've talked to me
Since I've blocked out your ignorant ranting
Since I've had to tell someone to stop talking
Its been a while since I've observed your mental health
Since you've bashed on me for having an eating disorder
Since I knew you had one too
Its been a while since you've checked on me to see if I'm still alive
Since I've checked on you
Since you would even care if I did
Its been a while since I've cared to wonder about you
Since you've called me names
Since you've spread lies about me
Its been a while since I've heard your name
Since anyone has brought you up
Since I've seen you
Its been a while since I've felt happy
Since I've felt safe
Since I have worried about my appearance
Its been a while since I've had to auto-correct my sentences
Since you don't yell at me anymore
Since your sensitive *** isn't around anymore
Its been a while since I've been glad someone has left my life
Since I've felt free
Since I've been me
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 2:36 AM UTC
High school life makes me quite weary, history can be quite dreary,
More than once the class has given me a cause to snore,
While I sat there, fingers drumming, some modern tune I started humming,
I didn’t see the teacher coming, coming in the classroom door.
Normally, she was quite cheerful, humming from the classroom door,
But today she gave a roar.
All the class sat still and silent, knowing that she could turn violent,
And all fearing lasting indent that she could leave upon their head.
All that time I watched with worry; - wishing I had thought to scurry
Out the door in fit and flurry - flurry from the pending dread -
From the sure and ceaseless source of impending dread -
I hid ‘neath my desk instead.
And the roaring, raving, ranting teacher started in on chanting;
Save me - brave me couldn't handle this kind of class;
Now I sat there, my mind wandering, all my thoughts were set on squandering
All she spoke, my brain was pondering, my attention couldn’t last -
As she spoke my brain was pondering and my attention couldn’t last -
I could never hope to pass.
All around me kids were shaking, but no move toward freedom making,
I began to wonder if they had a clue what was in store;
Maybe they had heard her coming, while I had been busy humming,
Fingers on the desk were drumming, drumming so I wouldn’t snore
Maybe they had had a warning - of whatever was in store; -
I hoped that she wouldn’t roar.
Sitting there in constant terror, worried I would make some error,
And thus bring about her wrath upon my mortal head;
But she made no move to strike me, showed no sign she planned to spite me
I doubted that she’d think to bite me, maybe growl at me instead?
This thought made me shiver slightly, i’d rather her roar instead -
At least I could keep my head.
She began to motion towards me, I knew it wasn’t to award me,
Perhaps she had noticed that i wasn’t wide awake?
Either way, She’d given order, so i began my journey toward her
Maybe some day I’d adore her? How many classes would it take?
How much of her pitiless lecturing would it take?
My own life was now at stake.
Now that I had done her bidding, she was at her desk, just sitting,
Watching me with those eyes and her never blinking stare;
Never once her gaze shifted, the corners of her mouth weren’t lifted
It was as if a sense of humor had never been formed there -
As if her face had never shown the signs of laughter there -
I pretended to not care.
All the while, my thoughts racing, I was at her mercy, pacing,
The room of classmates I was facing, but they had begun to snore;
i thought she was a fluke in staffing, until i heard her laughing
Now her sullen, cold, and serious mood I had no reason to deplore -
Those heartless hoards of homework were no reason to deplore -
I was scared of her no more!
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 5:43 PM UTC
When Robots ruled And “The Guardian” went into liquidation
It will be a strange quiet world when robots take over
there will be no middle-class the ranting of the eggheads
in the Guardian will cease their utterings will be quaint.
At the time when robots were perfected a pill emerged on
the market made women and men infertile until they
wanted to start a family, alas, it was irreversible and it only
Takes a generation. The poor was working for the robots
picking up trash such as screws, the streets were empty
and cars were obsolete.
Some robots that had received too much learning wrote
Books to each other – as they did now- and had literary
reviews, but since each book sounded like another down
to the ****** “,” it fell out of vogue, so much academia
and no one to buy their books. At the same time as it was
discovered by the human workers that when a friendly
robot accepted a glass of beer it made a summersault, froze
and became a piece of junk leaking oil.
The fight back began the robots had not been programmed
To tolerate Alcohol, the Achilles heel, and the workers were
Jubilant waved flags
No longer should robots- any robots with mechanical learning
whether university or not- to rule over them.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 1:06 PM UTC
I always feel like I’m running.
Not running away, there’s no such thing.
Just running forward towards something.
Something.
There’s no such place.
With how long I've been running
surely I'd have found it by now.
I've though of what it must look like.
Something could be a field
buried in a brilliant, sunlit cloud of alfalfa.
It could be a tundra,
frozen and without borders.
A rainforest,
vivid with life, green and flourishing.
A mountain, lurching
over a city,
and in the city there would be nothing but good men.
No liars, nor cheats.
Just good men and good women,
good drink and bad bars,
blocks and city blocks of motels
riddled, reeking with the smoke of cigarettes
smoked sometime post-sex.
And in the city there would be nothing but goodmen
railing
good men
raving and ranting, chanting for more
railing.
*These stairs sure are steep,
I best not fall.*
Something could be a desert.
The dunes would stretch, immaculate, across my vision.
The horizon would be sun, sand, and sun again.
Is the sky still blue in a desert?
Is desert wind built of language and faith, or just oxygen heated to boiling?
Is the night full of hushed whispered deviance?
Is the night bent over the day's sofa?
Is he waiting for sunrise?
Rise, sun, rise,
what are you waiting for?
Do it.
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 4:33 PM UTC
if words are food for the mind,
then here is a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then here is why i'm so pained.
abandoned, abhorrent
abnormal, absent
abstract, abuse
addicted, anxious
betray, bitterly
blank, blasphemy
bloodless, breakdown
breathless, brutal
captive, casually
catastrophe, cautiously
change, cigarettes
crucial, clueless
damaged, dangerous
deadly, disastrous
disheartened, disconcerting
dramatic, dreading
eager, eccentric
ecstasy, eerie
effete, effortless
embittered, excess
faded, failure
faintly, fallacy
faltering, fatally
fearfully, finally
garbage, gawky
gibberish, gloomy
gone, goodbye
graphic, gratify
hallucinate, harshly
hazy, heartless
hectic, helpless
hesitant, hit-and-miss
idiotic, idly
ignorant, intimacy
illogical, imaginative
infatuated, intoxicated
jealousy, jittery
journey, journal
joylessly, judicial
junk, juvenile
keen, killing
knavish, knocking
knockout, knotty
knowingly, knowledge
laborious, lacking
lame, languishing
lifeless, literature
lovelorn, lugubrious
madness, maintenance
make-believe, malaise
mean, melancholic
mellow, melodramatic
naff, naivety
nameless, naturally
nauseous, nebulous
neglected, nervous
oasis, objectionable
obliged, obliterate
oblivion, obscurity
obsolete, one-and-only
pacifist, pained
pale, panicky
paradise, paralyze
passionately, passively
raging, ranting
rationalize, raving
realistic, reasonable
rebellious, reckless
saboteur, sadness
sake, sameness
sanity, satisfactory
scar, steady
taint, tangled
tasteless, tearful
telling, temperamental
terror, theoretical
unaffected, uncanny
uncommon, unconsciously
undesirable, uneasy
unfortunate, untidy
vaguely, vanish
vanity, vanquish
versatile, vicious
violence, voracious
waiting, waking
walkout, wanting
wasteful, weary
withering, wrecking
if words are food for the mind,
then you've seen a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then no wonder i'm so pained.
-djs
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
Her beauty shined from within
With her golden hair and fair skin
But she still wasn't enough for him back then.
Ugly duckling...
She was soon labeled
All of her peers, joined in
Chanting and ranting
Ugly duckling, ugly duckling
She bowed her head and cried again and again
Time passed
And people moved on
She found she was better off on her own.
Reunions come and gone
She opted to stay at home,
Til one day she realized
She had become a swan...
No longer would she sit at home...
All alone...
No more...No more
Opening her door
She found freedom to explore
And everyone swore...
Anna May...Was gorgeous...
More so than the "chosen ones"...
Back in the school days.
One day she come face to face with...
Juan...but he was to good for her back then...
She sat smiled and listened while he chat...
How did this come about...
Your gorgeous lips, pout...
Round thighs and hips...
She smiled and said...
I am who I have always been...
You just never saw my beauty from within...
Juan, gathered courage and asked her on a date...
She smiled and said...
To late...
This swan...already has a mate.
Epilogue... Never Judge a person from the outside...whats on the inside, is what really counts.
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 6:15 PM UTC
I've been thinking and reading a lot recently
People who claim to be enlighten
Are not really enlighten because
Enlightenment is about being one with everything
Enlightenment is seen as knowledge & awareness
I guess the “spiritual people” lack an understanding
Of duality
That life is based on good & bad
Enlightenment and being one with everything is accepting
Both the horrors & wonders of Life
Thus creating balance, which is now “being one with everything”
Instead of waving sacred geometry as the all knowing thing
Or bragging about, “I know the Fibonacci sequence & the golden ratio”
Don’t get me wrong! I enjoy reading about spirituality, sacred geometry, and other marvelous topics
Nor am I bashing people’s beliefs
I just see people misinterpreting the message
A great and funny example that had me thinking was what Palpatine/ Darth Sidious from Star Wars Episode III revenge of the Sith said.
“Anakin, if one is to understand “the great mystery” one must study all its aspects, not just the dogmatic narrow view of the Jedi. If you wish to become a complete and wise leader, you must embrace a larger view of the force.”
That principle revolves around the same idea as being enlighten & being one with everything
If someone was to become “enlighten” he or she has to face the trials of learning to love and also embracing that there is a horror that lurks around us that we are oblivious to see.
I think once someone see’s both sides of the picture is when someone becomes “enlighten”
Because they understand how both sides work
Enlighten --> duality --> balance
This is how I just view the topic of enlightenment
You don’t have to believe what I wrote
I could be wrong
This was merely me ranting and expressing what I feel lol
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
scars of a past I wanted nothing to do with
led me to handcuff myself
to a lampole for security.
I had reached my consensus.
I threw the keys to these cuffs
in mental portals where I thought
no one would dare to ever travel.
Many tried searching
but I intentionally
obstructed access
with deceptive rants of fear and caution.
By then
I was sure
that I had thoroughly built walls of security;
I was safe
...but who would've thought
my aesthetically intellectual design
had a weakness?
The enemy came just as they all did,
hoping to be let in...
but this one reacted differently when the ranting came;
I was now at a disadvantage
because I had no other alternatives for defense.
The enemy showed no care for my security;
It was attractive
And I succumbed while
Never forgetting my plan
Although it seemed my design was nugatory.
My mental lampole and cuffs,
gone.
I was left subjugated
at the feet of a queen
who carried an aura
with the most beautiful spectrum.
Like a bull snake,
promises of security
grappled my core,
draining it of all fear
leaving behind no traces
of deception.
Although defeated,
she still remains my enemy
because serendipity
never seems to stick around.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 11:33 PM UTC
You madman ranting in the train
Time sold in that bottle should delay your pain
But what has poisoned you to disordain
Professing the impossible over and over again
"My manhood into" Britain! you claim
The universe is all to blame
Your wishful dreams are driving you insane
To hell with all but what remains
Is just a madman ranting in the train
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 6:42 PM UTC
Aku terlalu kecil
Sekecil titik di atas kertas kusut
Aku hanyalah satu dari ribuan
bahkan tak terlihat
Terlindung dalam cangkang sempit dan tipis
Bersembunyi di balik daun yang mulai berubah warna
Rumah pertamaku
akhirnya aku terlahir
sebagai sesuatu yang aneh
Aku si buruk rupa
Tubuhku dipenuhi bulu
Merangkak lemah menyusuri ranting
Menggerogoti daun disekitar
membuatnya berlubang
melarikan diri dari burung
Bergulat dengan semut rangrang
Membuat saya jatuh ke tanah
Hingga buluku rontok berserakan
Hanya cacing yang menyapa
Mereka membenci saya sangat
Aku bisa terbunuh, tidak semuanya menerimaku
sampai aku terjebak dalam dimensi lain
Aku si ulatbulu kesepian yang bersembunyi
Bertapa di dalam kantung usang yang kecil
Mencoba untuk membunuh waktu
Berjuang dalam kegelapan untuk mencapai keindahan
Sudah cukup persinggahanku
Mengarungi kerasnya penantian panjang yang membelenggu
Aku terlahir kembali
menjadi berbeda dan mereka menyukaiku
kebahagiaan berlimpah tiba
terbang tanpa batas dengan kedua sayap yang cantik
pergi ketempat yang indah yang kumau
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 10:23 PM UTC
i know we haven’t talked
i know it’s been a while
i know that it’s kinda my fault
but i still miss you
i miss your fast talking and crazy stories
i miss your dyed hair and red arms
i really, really miss you
i miss our hangouts before class
i miss our planned birthday parties
i miss our ranting about how mean our friends were
i really, really, really miss you
i miss your old car with the cupcake sticker
i miss your loft bed and starbursts from math class
but most of all
i miss us
- a.g.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 9:26 AM UTC
A ***** drills inside my core
It nags, graps, pans, the hands
They knot in spins and twists
My crux left at the river side
Breathing,gasping fast, faster
Body out in the open rawness
Persisting resistance of the force
An outward shield winning
Winged left,right, up, down
Another day, a greater pace
A passive taste, ranting in haste
In bricks ***** all I taste is hate
All walking in dead silence
Heads shouting with dreams
A roll of sweet and sour sate
Echoes of taxes and budgets
How will they evolve us?
Snatching more from pockets
The rockets burst to mock us
Pulling our all to fund them
Nuclear bombs creating tombs
Distribution of lies and wars
Missiles disposing as lyrics
An objectification of reason
Figure brushes on magazines
Incisions of bits and **** hoots
To boost of the hot posed ***
No truth is scaffolded as real
A psychological brainwash
Pollutes and limits indefinately
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 2:59 PM UTC
Trapped in my head
Thoughts I should've said
Words drawn like an artist
This paper is my canvas
The art of written form
My pens creating a storm
Scribbles so energetically
It just comes out poetically
The start of a verbal creation
Ranting and letting out frustration
Written out to sound vocally
Just the way I like my poetry
I'll ask just one question...
Have I made an impression?
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
*Not everyone has to go through these struggles
Accusations, lies and broken glass rumbles
Tempers that flare
Parts eveywhere
Yelling and banging
The neighbors must stare
They wonder how a girl like me could fall for this trick
The promises have all made me quite sick
Name calling, ranting, interrogations and such
Have left me to feel like O' quite the 'duck'
But it's my history that has left me scarred and flawed
One which has come back and opened a door
A door for a future that is peaceful and sweet
One which I have yet to meet
But I'm on the brink, with the knocker in my hand
Just about ready to take my final stand
Look my history dead in the eye
I'm finally ready to get over this high
"I'm all grown up now can't you see"
Then close the door
"Stop ******* with me"
It's time to stop repeating the mistakes of others
For the love of god I don't want to be my mother*
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 1:30 AM UTC
You!
Hey.
Good-day.
I presume.
Pessimistic flu.
Hypocritical to annoy.
The poor man's Rolls Royce
-is the pessimists one good choice.
They live with fragility,
-unwilling rigidity,
-and rarely tranquility.
Some weep at morbid memories,
-others at faithless fantasies,
-do they (or you?) see the precipices
-between the then, now and will be?
So what if you take a blue bruising back-slap
-for your lacking, a juicy reminding
-for regretful whining, lifetime timing,
-miraculous hopes of a future shining
-because you're wasting your time
-and not even minding!
So listen, or in duller cases, read;
-thoughts are naught but mares and dreams,
-man made mind transparencies
-will's the sum of immediacies
-like waiting in your station
-but you're deciding the destination
-your journey fundamentally what you make it
-it's simple but pessimists are complicated
-would you not trade freedom for a life you hated?
Pessimistic man, forget it
Ranting is silly - you just don't get it
You didn't see the golden beauty I bet it
Gold is copper to you anyway
What would Fibonacci say!
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 5:38 AM UTC
THE Roaring Tinker if you like,
But Mannion is my name,
And I beat up the common sort
And think it is no shame.
The common breeds the common,
A lout begets a lout,
So when I take on half a score
I knock their heads about.
From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.
All Mannions come from Manannan,
Though rich on every shore
He never lay behind four walls
He had such character,
Nor ever made an iron red
Nor soldered *** or pan;
His roaring and his ranting
Best please a wandering man.
From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.
Could Crazy Jane put off old age
And ranting time renew,
Could that old god rise up again
We'd drink a can or two,
And out and lay our leadership
On country and on town,
Throw likely couples into bed
And knock the others down.
From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.
II
My name is Henry Middleton,
I have a small demesne,
A small forgotten house that's set
On a storm-bitten green.
I scrub its floors and make my bed,
I cook and change my plate,
The post and garden-boy alone
Have keys to my old gate.
From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.
Though I have locked my gate on them,
I pity all the young,
I know what devil's trade they learn
From those they live among,
Their drink, their pitch-and-toss by day,
Their robbery by night;
The wisdom of the people's gone,
How can the young go straight?
From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.
When every Sunday afternoon
On the Green Lands I walk
And wear a coat in fashion.
Memories of the talk
Of henwives and of queer old men
Brace me and make me strong;
There's not a pilot on the perch
Knows I have lived so long.
From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.
III
Come gather round me, players all:
Come praise Nineteen-Sixteen,
Those from the pit and gallery
Or from the painted scene
That fought in the Post Office
Or round the City Hall,
praise every man that came again,
Praise every man that fell.
From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.
Who was the first man shot that day?
The player Connolly,
Close to the City Hall he died;
Catriage and voice had he;
He lacked those years that go with skill,
But later might have been
A famous, a brilliant figure
Before the painted scene.
From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.
Some had no thought of victory
But had gone out to die
That Ireland's mind be greater,
Her heart mount up on high;
And yet who knows what's yet to come?
For patrick pearse had said
That in every generation
Must Ireland's blood be shed.
From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.
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