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Casey Feb 2019
feeling minimal
feeling's mutual
here in spirit
hearing subliminal
calling to me
call in the night
cry out for me
cry out for me
Brad post Aug 2018
Someone call the Doctor,
because something’s amiss.
The darkness descended,
and there’s just the abyss.

Tell him, that maybe,
a paradox formed.
That up, is now right,
and that demons have swarmed.

Tell him, please tell him,
that we need the blue box.
We need his courage,
to turn back the clock.

I know the moment,
the exact time it went wrong,
but I can’t do it alone,
I’ve done that too long.

If we just had the Doctor,
we could set things to right.
We could change that moment,
and bring back the light.

I know he’s not coming,
and that he’s not real.
It’s just wishful writing,
to push back my fears.

A hero, a savior,
someone who knows all.
Someone who isn’t me,
that could stop the slow fall.

A blue box, a Doctor,
a moment in time.
A villain, so empty,
writing silly rhymes.

A paradox, truly,
that doesn’t make sense.
Can a villain turn hero,
if he shows recompense?

I guess we shall see,
but I won’t hold my breath.
I’ll wait for the Doctor,
or I’ll just wait for Death.
If Eight Fanned Angels admit to his Name
And beg the Sullen Scroll to recompense
These Fortitude's Maidens learned to maintain
An Hour to decide which Fashion made sense
Loyalty alone may not win his Heart
Consider the Hours he has to consume
Now celebrate each other; Though apart
To golden yourselves and Pride you subsume
All of you - Beauty's Inner Chorus - Taste!
Taste and realise Other Flavours grow
The Bowl you feed in has more than one space
As other Jolly Princes dive for show.
Your Plum Prince still smiles. But go and decide
Which Heart to follow and which Heart to hide.
Sara Kellie Mar 2019
In my mind I have a hive
where a million bees live and thrive.
The killer bees have left, they've gone
I have no need, what's done is done.

The honey bees, that now I keep
so sickly sweet, they let me sleep.
The bees and I now live as one,
they'll follow me when I am gone.

Each one of them and from above
a little sting, from me with love.
So sickly sweet into your mind,
memories of me are all you'll find.

So every day that you live on,
equal days that I am gone.
See, suddenly it all made sense,
A life of pain,
your recompense.

Poetry by Kaydee
Often writ in retrospect of memories, a cloudy recollect.
Tammy M Darby Feb 2017
Rest your weary body
Drink from my golden goblet
The most delicate and finest of wines
A potion of wild raspberries, bitterness and jeering contempt
Assault the light that dare not shine

It is the elixir of a dispassionate heart
If you possess no fear
Taste the confectionery of sadness call
Where love frightened evades approach
Upon remembrance of the long dark fall

Sip from the golden goblet
Taste the cruel sweetness of pain
Damnation to those who denounce the motive behind the actions
Until the bed of anguish you have lain

But these rare wines have no equal in quality
Defiled by evil and cursed with shame
The unquenchable thirst for blood taints the golden rim
As the murderous night slew the rising of the day

So lift high the golden goblet and drink  
An immortal taste of time
Accompany me into the world of melancholy
Where is served the most of exquisite wines
Come close now the hour when words become whispers
Demanding recompense for the crimes.

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Feb. 8. 2017
Written for the Monster
Today I reached for you
With a kind of virtue
And sincerity pressed behind
the design on my lips
Little realizing I was still reviling
Within my current remiss

I went and sinned again darlin'

There's little to do for recompense,
and so cordially I professed to you
all of my candid truths
With every intent
To avoid becoming uncouth
and elusive

Because... I do miss you
And I suppose I well knew...
You don't feel the same
I could feel it the instant you responded
Not the least bit concerned
Which was well deserved
Leaving me completely despondent

I need you to remind me
Just how lost my heart has become
And what that has cost anyone
Trying to reach for me
When I become undone

Somewhere in between
the real desire to reignite whatever fire
had transpired between us
With a new flame
Lay my hidden ulterior motive

Even I believed we would achieve
Something constructive
Yet my devious mind
Deceived even myself
To harness this abject,
self-destructive desire

Call me by my real names:
Thi­ef of catharsis.

Remind me of the same feeling
Delivered in your own unique way
Because I can't stand
To let myself ever forget again
This pain in my chest
Is everything that remains
It's all I have left
Remind me.
Isabel Feb 2018
This saccharin seeps into me,
Liquid recompense trickling,
Into my bloodstream.
This ichor, sweeter than the morphine
I fiend for.
A ******, hungering for a hit.
So I pray to you,
Somnus, please don't send me away.
Night looming behind you,
Death in the wings.
Everyone knows that they have a sweet tooth
And I'm all nectar.
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,

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


the god of pain and all that is the


(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,

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
Anno ab incarnatione Domini
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2016
words given life's first breath by this comment from
SE Reimer  
"thy tiller has found a storied port"


captain of a city street ferry,
upon the choppy holy waters of
scarlet fevered spotted gum stained
christened concrete streets

daylight guided by the starlight
of quartz sparklers sidewalk embedded,
resurrecting, overwhelming,
the grayness of men's mortared materialism,
these textured bright city lights,
from murk morn steam-pipe risen,
signposts of a city boys life,
navigation tools on his
steerage cruises

'tis only my poor torso
I captain,
my bus driving days retired,
single masted, obedient to the sun's paths plotted
on a personalized AAA TripTik,^
my cargo, my tiring physique,
the refined mettle product of a
sixty five year too short voyage of
deep diving mining defining,
and for surety, water divining

city walking life driving,
debtor-in-possession of a
city infection
of perpetual motion sickness

enabled inability
for standing stilled,
lane weaving,
people receiving and perceiving
as buoyed obstacle objects
to be passed by
in a higher lane
of shaken and stirred
city waterways

muscle's squeak in sonnet speak

Why speed thy errant boots
upon lanes of wandering men,
is there not time enough,
words suffice,
in history's future present
unlived long life,
to recompense
all your recorded stanzas,
mariner's tales and wrote recitations of seafaring voices?

sea nat run.
sea nat go.

dodging tween his fellow citified citizens
and the puzzled and puzzling drowning tourists,
sea nat write his unsecreted visions,
sailing from street to shining street poetry

this glorious grime,
this delicious dirt,
stuff of my blood,
genes of my children's children inheritance,
of thee I sing,
in thee I revel,
of thee I am composed

when my decomposing time scheduled arrival
lately comes on time,
bury me in its cemetery of memories,
within the soft earth of a watery grave
that the jackhammers drill bit paddles can uncover,
in rough canvas toss my worn smooth
failed frame overboard,
so I may become but one more
in your fabulous liquefying
cement oceans


3:53 am

with apologies to all the great poets from  I liberally borrowed
Francie Lynch Jun 2018
What good can come from words of mine,
In open, blank or crafted rhyme;
Could they affect a single mind,
And if so, for how long a time.

If my heartaches touched you
Because of what you read,
I know you understand
My truth needs to be said.

If what you read
Brought pallid tears
Over your quick and dead;
Or the words I chose to write my lines
Cast shadows before your blocked sunshine;
Or wrote good and bad of family and friends,
Of our descents and our ascends,
Or a general lack of recompense,
I truly make amends.
If you felt shame or remorse,
Don't rue the day you read my verse.

(You see, I concur with your every curse)

But if you winced or held a giggle,
Rolled your eyes at some recognition
Of our shared quixotic plight,
Then I'm pleased to get it right.
Ella Aug 2018
Somehow caught in the middle riding high upon a picket fence.
White washed easel penned my thoughts in recompense.
Somehow this feels all so rehearsed these spoon fed lines.
While laundered past remnants create
together knot sublime.
Somehow between want and desire
either the altar or the door.
Rob Sandman Mar 2016
The Ballad Of Jack Hammer (Concept by Jay Byrne)
Jack Hammer-Jay Byrne Black Fang Rob Sandman aka Schizophrenic.

Listen up I got a tale to tell.
About a black jack rabbit known for raisin' hell.
Jack Hammer's his name. Retribution the game.
Out on the plain with his kinfolk he did dwell.
Til that fateful day. No forgettin it.
Loss so painful. Jack was but a leveret.
While playin' out back.
Along the track came Black Fang and the Red River Pack.
And they were lookin, for blood.
Notorious outlaws up to no good.
In the low sun and The Pack started gunnin'.
So Jack started runnin'. The damage was done and it was over.
No time for goodbye. He just stood there.
Lookin' the Devil in the eye.
While his Momma bled.
The wolf walked up and this is what he said.

Are you sore that the Fang took away your Paw?
and the River Run's red with the blood o' your Maw?,
well hop away little blackjack eyes red raw,
-tell the rest o' the prairie what you done saw,
Red River is the Pack,I'm the one with the crown,
I'm the big bad wolf who blew your whole life down!
so cower and quiver little wabbit,have a cry...
you little ******* you took my **** eye!

From out me back pocket, pulled out me slingshot..
..I'm a real crack-shot when it comes to bringin' pain across lots.
Ya never saw it quicker.
Lickety-split I skedaddle into the thicket.
Then he was gone...

Spent the next few years wanderin'. Ponderin' recompense.
Lived paw to mouth honing his defense..
..and offense. Hell bent on atonement.
Twin six-guns blazin', layin' judgement.
While The Pack kept killin'.
Full split, full chisel, goin' the big figure.
Black Fang said it himself.

none bigger none badder than the Pack I'm with,
spit venom that hisses,hogleg never misses,
no-one messes with the red river,do and you die,
cry wolf-get engulfed,leave your colt lie,
whole pack'll rip lead to your head if you try,
but-one thing niggles while I sup down Rye
is to **** that rabbit that took my **** eye,
heard he built some fame,got himself a name,

Like a freight train runnin' on collision course.
Jacks fate's been comin' like an iron horse.
Tour de force, pent up, fired up ready to blow.
On a stormy night into town he did stroll.

Jack walked into the saloon.
Black as all hell, no light from the moon.
Fang at a table playin' poker.
Soon to be Dead Mans Hand for that joker.
The pack'll pay.
I'll put the red in your river bringin' Judgement Day.
Stormbringer I'll deliver. Got an itchy trigger-finger..
..cos I'm quicker and fitter. Juiced up, not goosed up on hard liquor.
Then he catches me eye.
Takes a sip of his rye and says..

if it ain't the **** nipper that took the fang's eye,
waited all these years to come here and die,
no odds no winnin' no end to my sinnin' ,
Pack back up,fair game fangs winnin
last chance saloon,I'm too old for you,
ain't no-one ever outdrew me and old blue,
Navy Colt revolver,dead problem solver
so 'ware this wolf,you couldn't **** with silver

Black Fang, I've come to collect.
Anybody that don't wanna die better mosey outback.
But the pack can stay.
For what ya done did you're dyin' this day.

as I opened my mouth and slid my paw to old blue,
twas like the heavens opened up on my whole **** crew,
twin revolvers spitting,splittin' open my pack,
last shot ripped ripper my lieutenant in the back

cause I dragged him over me,hit the deck too,
little rabbit thinks its,over cause I  was hit too,
then I let rip,aiming straight for the head,
coulda sworn that shot left Jackhammer dead
... (but did it?)
Another unfinished track by myself and Jay Byrne... give us a few likes to hear the end(lol cliffhanger style!)
Big Virge Jul 2016
Well Well Well.....      
What Can You Smell ... ???    
ME ... I Smell A Crock of LIES ... !!!    
From TOP LEVEL Policing Guys ......    
I Also Smell ... INCOMPETENCE ... !!!!!!!!!    
That's Why I Wrote A Poem ...    
And Entitled It ... " Who's Next ? "...    
So People ...    
Where's Your Common Sense ... ?!?    
Someone Needs Some Recompense ...    
Right Now It's A Family ...    
Whose Son Has Died ...    
" IN A TRAGEDY !!! "....    
Their Son Was LIVING ...    
.... " HAPPILY "....    
Before He Met ...    
.... CALAMITY .... !!!!!!!!!    
This AIN'T A Doris Day Movie ... !!!    
This Is Cos' He Was BULLIED ... !!!    
By Those CLEVER ... Met' Police ... !!!    
NOT Like Kids With Stupid Tricks ...      
But From THIS ...    
REAL Gun Bullets ... !!!!!    
This Is Something TRULY SICK ... !!!!!!!!!    
These Are Things They DO Commit ... !!!    
To EVERYONE of Colour NOT just Brazilian Kids ...    
Ahhhhhhhhh Let's Just Get The Facts CORRECT ... !!!    
He Was ... " Asian "... ?!?    
NO ... " African "... ?!?    
Who Cares He Was An Immigrant ... !!!!!    
These Are Words of IGNORANCE ... !!!!!    
IGNORANCE Is Like NONSENSE ... !!!!!!    
Try Using THIS ... INTELLIGENCE ... !!!!!  
BETTER Still Use ... " Common Sense "...    
Who Is It That BENEFITS ... ???    
From A Life of Street Gunfights ...      
NOT Black Folk TRUST ME ... That's Right ... !!!      
How About ...    
TRUE English Types ...    
Those Who Are WHITER Than White ... !!!    
And HATE To See Non-Whites In Sight ..... ?!?    
That's A Plight These Racists Like ... !!!    
And Then ENFORCE With ALL Their Might ... !!!!    
To Put Us Down In English Towns ... !!!    
That's Why So Many Young Blacks FROWN ... !!!    
UNLIKE Most Poets I'm NO CLOWN ... !!!    
Because My Words Buy Souls Like Pounds ... !!!      
Who Was BOUGHT This Time Around ... ?!?      
To KEEP The Truth INSIDE Their Mouth ... ?!?    
This Is REALLY SICKENING ... !!!!!    
Even Those Who Are ... " LEGIT "...    
May Get Hit For Where  They Sit ... !?!    
NOT With Belts But With BULLETS ... !!!    
Or With Axes Think On That...    
Racists ...    
NEVER Die Like THAT ... ?!?    
Watched ALL NIGHT From Council Flats ...    
By Police ... What's Up With That ... ?!?    
They Take Life With Too Much Stealth ... !!!!!    
While They Just RELIEVE Themselves ... !?!  
Those Are Words That Are HEARTFELT ... !!!    
Check The Report Your Heart Will Melt..........    
if You've Got Some DECENCY ... !!!    
UNLIKE YES These MET' Police ... !!!!!!    
Who Think It's Right To Simply Be ...      
ABOVE The Law While People GRIEVE ... !!!    
This Poem Comes From MY ANGER... !!!!!    
But These Days Does It Matter... ???    
What We Say or What We Do ...    
Because Our Youth Are Being Schooled ...    
NOT The Truth ... !!!!!    
Trust Me I Am Staying Cool ...    
Your Proof Is How I Air My Views ...    
WITHOUT Resorting To Abuse ...    
Incitement's Something For A FOOL ... !!!      
This Is NOT Something I Do ... !!!    
So Just Before They Try THAT ONE ... !!!    
Hatred Is ...........................  
Something I ............................................................. SHUN....................    
I Write These Things For EVERYONE ... !!!      
Don't Just Trust Technology ...  
Or These KILLING Met' Police ... !!!    
QUESTION What They Say To You ...    
Make Them Give You CONCRETE PROOF ... !!!!!    
Sift Through LIES To Find THE TRUTH ...    
DON'T Buy Into Lies They SELL ... !!!    
Calm Yourself ................................  
Take In .... " GOOD SMELLS ".... !!!    
And REMEMBER This Poem Called ......    
.......... " WELL WELL WELL  ".......
Recent American Policing issues, made me think of this poem, which I wrote when yet another version of events arose, some considerable time after the initial stories surrounding how the police messed up the Jean Charles De Menezes (RIP) ... alleged terrorist shooting at Stockwell Tube Station in London, came out .... So, when criticising US Police, just remember the UK's, " Special Relationship " ... with American Policies, and how it does what it does to it's citizens ....
JDL Nov 2018
A populace filled with totalitarian tranquility

The supposition that the world is in a harmonic homeostasis

Blissful ignorance that leads to careless calamity

Amid the uproar of the most populated of places

Therein lies the seed of humanity’s deceptive destruction

A solitary host housing a virulent virus

Infectious disease that proceeds crisis and corruption

Hope only stands with the powerful and pious

Prognosis describes communicable cannibalism

Rabid outbursts show signs of voracious violence

The harrowing pandemic leads to ceaseless cataclysm

Cities and towns suspended in systemic silence

Habitations riddled with gratuitous gore

Hope fades in the wake of the crimson carnage

The pestilent hoard feeds to a glutton’s galore

The Author of humanity publishes the final page

The closing verse rains down a rapturous recompense

The high cost of a dense population paid at humanity’s existential expense
Michael Marchese Nov 2019
The precursor civilizations
One of tantamount
Mountains of gold
And untold
Riches stolen
From previous peoples
And kingdoms of old
Inhabiting lands
Spanning oceans of sands
And extending their hands
The empire expands
Beyond wildest dreams
The forerunners envisioned
And for recompense
Of their grandeur
To ancient traditions
Predating the gods
Until one culture’s trash
Is the fortune of frauds
Noah Smith Dec 2019
Rain falling,
God's tears: Consequence.
Mind failing,
Atoning fears: Recompense.

Clouds part,
Dried eyes: Forgiveness.
Mended heart,
I rise: Confidence.
© Dysphoria, 2019
marvin m brato Aug 2018
I made a promise to you
But I did not fulfill it through
Please forgive me and forget my failure
Bury the pain; I will amend it in the future.

I said I will always love you
But I did not illustrated it through
Please forgive me and forget my neglect
Bury the pain; I will rectify on the subject.

I vowed my loyalty to you
But I did not prove it through
Please forgive me and forget my pretense
Bury the pain; I will be true to recompense
Ryan P Kinney Oct 2019
by Divine, Kadie Good, Bambi Cruz, [email protected], Mar Del Sol

The protruding odor illuminated my existence.
A stench to verify that I was there.
Smell me. Smell me.
I have a scent. I do not lament.
I reek not of recompense.

I am scared and lonely
I am going to succeed
I am not lost
I am here

The sum of our world:
Candle flames and forest fire
Thailand and Belgium
Public and local
All of our experience
Your tears from afar
The red sunset of a lake
Erie and Huron
World War to some peace
The world around shaped me
Like rocks to the rain.

The soul stands in a loud mind
Trying to listen,
but the ideas are listless.
It wants to be something.

Blank, without definition
Trying to understand being –
But failing, with each whim
Nothing, Trying, Coping
Lost and Without.
Xcstasy Feb 2019
I love I lost, I gave it cost,
Sing in echo unending songs
Tell them of my beautiful wrongs.
Remind me of that painful frost,
Her icy words on me they fell
My fiery passion relentless to quell

I grasped for stars,
But opened my palms to dust.
O Aphrodite! Goddess of love,
Take me into your bountiful hearth.
Remove from me this beloved curse.
That I may be free to write my hate for her
To recompense this painful thorn filled crown
With a desecrated sonnet written upside down.
If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me ye women if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompense.
Thy love is such I can no way repay;
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let's so persever,
That when we live no more we may live ever.

ለውዱና ተናፋቂው ባለቤቴ

የሁለት አንድነት ካለ
ማን እንደኛ፣
ባል በሚስት ከተፈቀረ
በርግጠኝነት አንተነህ አንደኛ፡፡

ሚስት አግኝታ ከሆነ ደስታ፣
እናንት ሴቶች ከሻታችሁ
ለመሆን አንደኛ፣ተወዳደሩኛ!

ለአንተ ፍቀር ቦታ የምቸረው፣
የወርቅ መአድን በእቅፉ
ከያዘው  ሐብት በላይ ነው!
መች ይሔ ብቻ፣
አይበቃም ሁሉም ሐብት
እስከ ምስራቅ ዳርቻ፡፡

ፍቅሬን ወንዞች ጭምር
የሚያረኩት አይደለም
ያን ሊሞክሩም አይገባም
ያን ጥም የሚቆርጠው፣
ከአንተ የፍቀር ምንጭ
የሚፈሰው ነው!

እንገዲህ ፍቅርህ
ይሄን ይመስላል፣
ታዲያ ልከፍለው ከቶ
እንዴት ይቻለኛል ? 
የላይኛው ጌታ፣
ሦስት እጥፍ
ይክፈልልኝ ውልታ፡!

በመሬት እስከአለን፣
እንኑር  በፍቅር ተሰኛኝተን፣
በሞት ድል ስንነሳ
ፍቅራችን ግዘፍ አንዲነሳ፡፡
I love Annes poems I already translated her poem The Author to Her Book!
kirk Aug 2018
The galaxy's in turmoil, it's at an all time low
Luke Skywalker's been demoralised, all for comedic show
No substance for new character's, old heroes full of woe
What happened to the Star Wars, that we used to know

The Empire has been replaced, by the Order of the First
No real impact is achieved, we're not really that immersed
Screen presence is not felt, characterisations at its worst
The legacy of the Jedi, is downgraded and disbursed

Luke's a Jedi like his father, so why would he elope
The Disappointment of this film, is on a massive scope
Star Wars fans are ridiculed, their on a downward *****
Galactic empires did strike back, but after a new hope

Jedi knights a force for good, they wouldn't just give in
Princess Leia flying through space, well wasn't that a sin
The saga of the Skywalker's, pushed aside for Rey and Fin  
Don't bring back legacy character's, to throw them in the bin

Luke's too out of character, it doesn't make no sense
Strong villains do not exist , so there is no recompense
The shallowness of General Hux, a lack of real suspense
Kylo Ren's fake saber duel, this fight was far from tense

Evil rulers are no more what kind of name is Snoke?
He's hardly Emperor Palpatine, he's just a head scarred bloke
Like most of the new character's, well what a ******* joke
The menace of the sith is lost, Since the force awoke

Wooden character's we don't want, I know this may sound mean
Kathleen Kennedy please keep away, from the Star Wars scene
We don't want Holdo, Rose and Poe, clogging up the screen
Admiral Ackbar was killed off, and it wasn't even seen

Rian Johnson's head is round, he looks like BB8
Unfortunately his movies ****, and his stories are not great
Redemption for true Jedi knights, I know it's not too late
A Jedi Master Ivan is,  The Last Jedi's futures fate

This is our most desperate hour, after the cinemas first screening
Ivan your our only hope, the Star Wars fans are screaming
No true fan is amused, we wish that we where dreaming
"a gracious gift from god", is Ivan's first name meaning

Ivan Ortega is the man, he simply is the best
His flare for editing is supreme, he has film making zest
Unruly Star Wars script writers, he'll put them to the test
Movie making is his skill, Disney give it a rest

So come on now check Ivan out, on YouTube or Twitter
His vision of The Last Jedi, may stop you feeling bitter
Optimism flows like the force, because he is no quitter
He'll reunite the Star wars fans, instead of a film splitter

A dark time for the empire, with the Jedi in the mix
Dark side powers hasn't been seen, since Vader in part six
True Jedi Knights have not returned, nothing that really sticks
We need Jedi Master Luke, in Ivan's new Film Fix
Ever since Star Wars The Last Jedi was released in cinemas in December 2017, there has been a lot of backlash and criticisms by fans for the treatment of the character Luke Skywalker and also Rian Johnson's script, however there is a guy called Ivan Ortega who is re-editing and  Fixing the movie, he has a YouTube channel called Film Fix where he shows you the editing process and what he is doing to make the film better, please check his channel out
Nicholas Huber May 2019
Isolation is the basis for cerebral control.
Ideologies to be shifted, for that is the goal.

No Vulcan mind melds to rediscover ones sense.
Plot a course and sail, there's no need for recompense.

A common trait is shared between energy and water.
The path of least resistance, always colder never hotter.

Newton's second law; the time rate change of momentum.
But how can force equal love? Let's apply an addendum.

As velocity increases, so does dilation of time.
Just keep your seat belt fastened, all things will be fine.

And now you've been conditioned to accept what you were told.
So close your eyes, just relax, fortune persists among the bold.
May 16, 2019
Waynepatrick Jan 2019
On a starry night as I was taking leave from the toils of the day, there came a knock on my door. My thoughts submitted to guessing who this late visitor could be. I found it impossible to hold my peace. Curiosity goaded me so much that I couldn’t miss to answer the door. Uncanny it was for such a thing to occur. The creaking floor bore semblance to the cry of unknown night creatures. Diligently I twisted the ****, relieving it of its duties and on opening the door  the sight that fell on my eyes left me shocked. Sweat trickled from my brow as I betook to welcoming this guest. Before me in my dim and clouded vision there stood a woman in a robe with a stature that did not surpass mine. She swam in a luster of beauty and her sight was pleasing to eye. Her manner of gait was magnificent and her hair coalesced into a bun that was neatly done. Her shapely ******* flushed me with desire. Such serenity left me perturbed. Her composure could make someone confuse me as the guest. I took it in her eyes that she wasn’t from this place. “Who could you be miss?” “Is there a way I could help you?” implored I. But she remained silent as if she was incapable of speech. Her eloquence in the silence did leave me uncomfortable. And for this cause I did repeat my question then she finally opened her mouth to speak. “Be so kind as to give me something to eat.” “For I am weak and bread the size of the palm would do." How sure can I be that you’re not a thief, thought I, but did not dare say. But she bore innocence on her face and looked stablished in the ways of the good. If all she wanted was food then I could spare some for her needs. I myself was a laborer and had used all of my proceedings for this. I hadn’t the slightest of clues of what her intentions were, only heavens could decipher if she had ostensible purposes. My weakness was empathy to the point I appeared naïve, but call to mind that this wasn’t true. To her request I did attend and gave her a loaf with a glass of milk. After mouthing the loaf, she appeared to sink into introspection as if she had suddenly thought of something. Her eyes fixed on my ceiling and her countenance devoid of all feeling. Then she connected with her senses and gulped the milk. Finally she turned to me and went ahead to explain how she couldn’t repay my favor. Recompense I did not expect but before I could speak she had the following to say. “My body is all I have to give and my heat can sustain you on this cold night and make you delight. Her words I marveled at and was quite confused. Her halls looked frequented by many men for her beauty was undisputed and her allurements were seducing… (to be continued)
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