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vircapio gale Jun 2012
love-energy swinging toward bitter blows:
a father’s pride becomes a son’s,
he becoming bitter becoming hatred
in the midst of love abused,
a civil fight for freedom failing in the eyes of youth:
these minds of ours turn wildly—
change to the beat of unknown drums
and death knocks us up
pregnant with a new generation of hate,
of goals to love: the obliteration of hate’s mother,
but question on, worship your mind,
build a shrine of doubt and find
darkness emerging as a deeper shade of black
knowledge? knowledge?
myths laid upon us through the perspectival dimming of language
no one’s fault? societal pressures
no cause for blame? survival instincts
no source of evil? history has a gun to their head. . . .
no use for these words? meaningless.
dialogue, yes, for the birds,
the carrion of hope
once the breeding stops
and lets the precious journey start:
down the cesspool of quasi-oblivion,
where we’re all a minority of one,
grasping for meaning in an abyssm of phantasmal foundations.
words, words, the excuse of words;
when father’s left no ground to walk on,
the son sits there digging
ditches for the death of systems
holes in the fabric mother wore,
tears in the existence we thought we knew.

what is this about? question marks
swerving away from sour truth
bleeds the nonsense through the flesh of what we love
and dying, dying, hate becomes a source of love,
guilt projects a softened heart
kneeling down now
outside, but wanting in.
affirmed, dejected.

[OR
are they swerving away from faith
simply a defense against the actions to take
ontic procratstinator! hear me now!
safety is the goal behind every measure
seek danger and you run the dangers of comfort,
seek comfort, and delusion becomes your handmaid.]

for knowledge of past dogma is dogma too
and the heart pumps it anyway;
for existence is. O heart, your sutra
flows nimbly on into eternity,
but you take this life and live it now,
the rhythm born of a mystery,
sacred to the foolish,
sarkin to the wise—
and the dancing wise man
birthing a new enigma
travels on into the depths of the ordinary
with a smile and a bow,
a hop-skip like Nietzschean
melodrama.

I can write it once for fun,
twice for accuracy,
thrice for fame and ten more for shame.
Do you want to know what it’s about
or do you want to figure it out?
the game of pride makes fresh
the fish of mental seas;
but truth is less cozy;
dagger in your existential eye.

no conclusions to be embraced without the whim of faith?
no art show game gripe to win but for the game of taste?

this bout goes on, this Bout goes on! oh how I wish my mind was lacking!
but no! the sacrifice, but the sacrifice,
pigs of Aristotle knew no quarrell,
no such quarrell.

when does such a poem become a forced effort?  when will I stop questioning myself?
where is this urge to destroy originate?
what ******* language am I speaking in when I think?
what and why,
who the but questions, questions
falling spiking holes in teh floor of contentment
or is it laziness: should I tak emy e pick now or wa itf ort he rig htto **** newith mystic alllllllllllll certainty from be yo ndt he fen ceof lan gua ge.

why go back? why try?
the difference between communication and self-indulgent writing is the effort to conform to the extent necessary for the sharingof truth... and so nobility demands conformity, however long it takes and however wonderful it may be in the mean time to simply spill my fingers across the trypesu ritre lia shjkk e a A b B i IG load o f ***... as if the hiddenness of deconstucted language masked my immaturity as a poet, as a person, as a thinker, as a wallower in shame.  as a Man. as a *** machine. as a weak creature. as a creature of potentially great accomplishments but small ***** at the present, as a person hiding from the said for fear of having to live up to it, as one who doesn’t believe his words half the time, even noe, ever noer rht all suiooos  dhjhjh tuof rhty w arbif trya dfyoudng huddkkfkd fmdmf dfdlililhkjga wyeruipok smmm tuhtuth dgfhg dagdh f dhajkdf  fuduudjjd fh d hdhhd bit b not n tno totot t ototot  read read read read read read read read read reda dnrenadkf leadsd fhdus duig hgjhdf dh sdmf sialdihf duf dreioan ign udfin the dh diguicse of hjtkjh heioa never heros heilike hte  e9a 1 1 ih kj n h ogma doifj hedOLvever otitoto the  ososososririrroow ww dance waiting at the librasyer renckjh c concon con iejr a  goodo excucse to t constraint no nt rot th even dfhight hwith th d dear on the all ndklfn eh fh searching thioart worthless buthen I find htheihadf htis hivoih Valid dfkdljhf jhkajh yea it s i kjh Lavlls ishn Vadildld meaning ngon woven into nonesense nd fnidoijifj bJar in Tennessiossdnohf  a freww few deletes and the important words become clear however taxing on an hypothetical reader from the future in which I do hope to become g”reat” half-heartily,  though for show.  .  .and the experience of writing is revealed through the laziness, or tiredness, of a recent graduate trying to write something meaningful after a summer of passion and *** and drugs and resentment toward the family and the sad economic advice given him.
SinEater Nov 2014
My skin is p a  l e
My body c o ld
     And in my chest lies a broken heart of fools gold
My re alit  y   I  on ce knew is ha z  y    a nd n on exist en  t
It's grown old
     And I'm becoming tired of being bold
And being told right from wrong
      I'm sinking softly down when I don't know how to swim
  Every inch that I further lose from possibility to stay afloat is lessening my want or need for a life boat
    Every breath I attempt to take fills my lungs with ugly pseudonyms and sends me down deeper into my lonesome underpopulated town inhabited only by fragments of once strong relationships that i held so close to me that I c ould n't  b reat h e, the relationships that kept my entire being from sinking in the first place.
   I'm drowning and I can't see what's even in front of me
       I'm a ship bound by anchor to the wrong bad habits of shedding my   blood willingly to bloodthirsty ravenous sharks in the sea of my minds eye
       This was once a safe harbor for the ones I kept close
  The ones that knew what mattered to me and the ones I cherished most
      Now its a sea full of  gh o sts
Of the people I trusted them the most
    I trusted them to not turn on me or use me like a host
And now I'm the one  dro w ning
I' m    so  sca re      d
   Now when I share my harbor it feels so
    U    n    fa    i r
        They don't understand what I risk give to let them be there
It never harbors in their heart as deeply as it does mine
     The possibility of even defining how hard it is to let these ships safely     pass through this harbor will now and forever never be able to escape  my pale numbing lips
    Only silence
Everything here is just riddled with murderous crashing waves
   Any relationship that enters I try so desperately to save
     And in that attempt
  The harbor starts to misbehave
            The waves destroy every boat or anything that floats
  Anything at all to help me cope with being so alone or the feeling of even remotely being at home.
      My fingertips are numb and cold and starting to fold and I can't feel those things I could before
I just want all of this over
N o    m   o re   dro w n    i n          g
All my life boats have sunk
    Now I'm just stuck
     All these hands and graves are grabbing at me and pulling me down        ev ery   whi ch     wa y  at  the
    bott om of the
oce an
u  nd   er

     al l
th e s     e  
    
h e   a     v y


               waves.
Nicole Dawn Jun 2015
Always
Be
Careful
Don't
Ever
Fall from
Great
Heights
It
Just might
Kill you
Literally
Make
No mistakes
Only smile
Please, it's
Quite hard in
Reality but
So easy
To say
Usually people
Very quickly
Withdraw
X** marks the spot
You'll see, they'll soon just sleep
Zzzzz
This makes very little sense, but I'm confused right now, so..... The spot x is marking is the point at which you break
Liz Delgado Sep 2015
Veins that hold
A** talent only his.
Not confident, but
Great masterpieces.
Oh, what a shame
Gogh died without
High hopes for his art.
In the night,
Happiness leaves
And memories of us
Together
Enter my mind.
Loving you,
Oh, loving you
Vincent, drives me
Insane and it hurts
Not knowing what you feel.
Great sorrow, instead of
Your love,
Occupies my heart, leaving it not
U**nbroken and crying for you.
Vladimir s Krebs Nov 2015
what if one day we found that some one pressed fire on all the nuclear war heads.

im not ready to be vaperized for little to build my survial gear

im afraid cause i willlove every i loved in life
what do we even do do if we even survide every thing is gone.
every thing makes me fear causeit could be a accident set off war head killing every one in the thousand yard blast.

im not ready to die i want to do as many things as possible.

i just am not  ready to lose everybody i have my tears when i watch the news earing them talk about war. i dont  think i can handle much more
i have the list of gear to survive what is going to see mean my family.

i am scared to dye cause i just want more time to enjoy the littel things then enjoy things im not reat to be vaporized ,
hearing things on the new around 7:00 at night with hard ball with chris mathew
just scares
REally *Great Guy i Am. lovE.
*
REGGAE
Me in a nutshell
Baylee Nov 2014
C-alling your parents because you have no
O-ne to talk to or hang out with.
L-osing touch with everyone and
L-eaving all your old friends.
E-ventually realizing that it's not all you made it out to be.
G-reat, compared to high school, but
E-very day you come "home" to an empty dorm. Alone.
Lee Jackman Jan 2021
P assers-by
T reat
S trangers with
D ignity.

Cos you never know whats happening in there life.
Mark Toney Oct 2019
Got a plop in my fizz
And a tiger in my tank
Impossible is nothing
(That’s why Titanic sank)

Got milk? Just do it.
Wash your troubles down the drain
Tastes so good
Cats ask for it by name

Eat fresh. I’m lovin’ it.
It’s finger-lickin’ good
If you won’t eat it
We all know Mikey would

Once you pop you can’t stop
Make the most of now
“Eat Mor Chikin”
(Written by a rebel cow)

Every bubble’s passed its fizzical
Let’s get quizzical
Nothin’ says lovin’
Like something from the oven

Snap! Crackle! Pop!
They’re Gr-r-r-reat!
Just like a good neighbor
In good hands with Allstate

Look, Ma, no cavities!
Think outside the bun
Save money.  Live better.
Consider IT done

Melts in your mouth
Not in your hands
(Life’s what happens
While you’re making other plans)

American by birth.
Rebel by choice.
Hello Moto
His masters voice

Maybe she’s born with it
Have it your way
A diamond is forever
Every kiss begins with Kay

You've come a long way baby
Be all that you can be
A Little dab'll do ya
With L.S./M.F.T.

Own a piece of the rock
Where do you want to go today?
We make money
The old-fashioned way…

When you care enough
To send the very best
Oh, what a feeling!
Come be our guest!

Live in your world.
Play in ours.
Get N or get out
For the love of cars

You can’t top the copper top
Easy as Dell
He keeps going and going…
Go further with Shell

When there is no tomorrow
Bo knows best
Think small. Make believe.
Makes quitting **** less

Stronger than dirt
How do you spell relief?
Success.  It’s a mind game.
Defying all belief

Challenge everything
Share moments. Share life.
Because you’re worth it
Save a life.  Love your wife.
4/17/2019 - Poetry form: Light Verse - These famous advertising slogans from our past were sure a blast! Booyah! - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Jackie Mead Jul 2018
S...ensationally charged atmosphere.
P...erfectly mannered fans.
E...xceptional riding skills, no gears, no brakes, no fear.
E...xcellent rapport between riders and the crowd, fans like to cheer.
D...angerous sport, injuries kept minimal, within reason.
W...orld Champions crowned at the end of the season.
A...bsolutely awesome fights on the track.
Y...outh riders, coming through, watch out Tai they're at your back.

G...reat day out for the family,  lots of fun.
P...oland, Sweden, Germany, Cardiff , stadiums galore under cover or open to the sun.
I like my sport, hubby and i have always watched motorsports, we were at the Brtish GP yesterday in Cardiff such a highky charged atmosphere, starting with the Fanzone Live Music, the riders meeting the fans for.pics, autographs etc.
To sleep to sleep one needs ones sleep
How a body needs its rest at best
But my soul at night decides to travel so
And pass ever so far away another test

Dreams are but dreams but austral trips
Has one wake tied and needing sleep more
We sleep to rest and to rest at best  however
Souls travel speed of thought to another shore

I blamed awhile the fan blowing what we exhale
Carbon dioxide not good to breath at any time
There must be ventilation open windows oxygen
Flowing through room fresh and pure ever fine

But then I wake memories of where I've not been
For when the body rests it travels far far away
Often due to this it brings back poetry and song
Of things of tomorrow things of distent yesterday

The best inventions with soul gifted intentions
Have over time come back when it does return
But to rest to reat a body needs to pass a test
As the candle of life continues so to burm

Oh over active soul you educate a mind from afar
As within it expects the best to do the things we do
It has such ongoing energy wisdom found in travel
But a body needs its rest at best to carry on its true

terrence michael sutton
copyright  2018
AT TIMES A GLASS OF PORT WORKS WELL
Àŧùl Dec 2019
OXOXOXO
Dear life, you know what's your ultimate truth,
End you do one fine day - often in pain.
A real fountain I wish there existed of youth,
Treat my senescence it would and I shall be young again,
Happiness and togetherness are all I seek to gain.
My HP Poem #1819
©Atul Kaushal
A worst nightmare loomed large
notification courtesy Montgomery County
Assistance Office caseworker
implied medical coverage axed
I felt hammered, nailed, shingled out...
livid with rage
frenzied, harried, jarred...
railing away
fit tubby tied to train tracks
ready to **** myself,
but dang, I ain't got enough funds  
to cover funeral  
or preferably cremation costs.

Bajillion dollars for medications
yikes - anxiety/panic attacks
slated to return with vengeance,
no way to pay hearst driver/
nor burial services
grave diggers will mutiny
unable to calm down
a bottle of tranquilizers...
and/or sharp pointed objects
appeared very tempting
questions needed answering ASAP!

Telephone numbers yielded voice menu
dialed Consumer Service Center
for Health Coverage
at long last - a real person
thank dog.

Whew - informed of short checklist
checking account transactions
backdated to June 2023
until most recent activity
slight sigh of wry tears relief
grace period until August 2023
accessed Citizens account online
of course Login fraught
with problematic issues Yow.

Chose new password
finally accessed anemic
measly anorexic balance
scrolled mouse pointer
highlighted/copied designated dates
pasted said information
into Word document
ah...prints esse finally blessed me
folded half dozen plus pages
affixed three postage stamps
out apartment door
slipped material into onsight mailbox.

Breathed sigh of relief
agitation subsided within core
rage against human machine (me)
penuriousness smarted, vetted, yipped...
analogous to pet peeve
emotionally exhausted and spent
penniless poet plopped into bed
instant sleep refreshed
highly cooled figurative heels
subsequently resumed hashtagging
black and decker tooled mindset
concomitant with grievous bitterness

decried flagrantly mucking potential
squandered so many
prime vocational opportunities
severely compromised thank you;
loathsome debilitating panic attacks
years gone by;
voluntarily enrolled institutions,
albeit of higher learning
hopscotched from one college/
university after another
work history record scattershot
unable to sustain employment

intermittent jobs between
prolonged gaps, deemed
expendable, replaceable, unmarketable...
great boost to self esteem
qualified to receive
Social Security disability
predicated on serious
mental health issues
to recapitulate incapacitated
presumably congenital aberration
other than above internal melee...,
I feel Gr-r-reat!

— The End —