"recreational" poems
Kashmir Delirium
Oh People Of Earth! Thankful are we,
For each act of benevolence shown to us.
Your gilded sweet words describing,
The beauty of Kasmir, land and people.
Mention in books and talks of it's riches,
Naming it the Sweet Paradise Of Earth.
The Lord has been bountiful to Kashmir,
Treasure of resources in every sphere.
To elevate each aspect, our wish for life,
As every acre of this land is worth millions.
Full of treasures and recreational value,
Forestry with grandeur and silvery rivers.
The outside world's view is so limited,
Simple folks living in the lap of rich bounty.
Mentioned in world forums and organizations,
But what of the goal of giving us freedom?
What has The UN established in our name?
To measure the pain and anguish we bear,
At the hands, of our supposed benefactors.
The saviours who has us fractured.
But in reality they train their enforcers,
In the art of creating oceans of tears.
The red blood now hidden in camouflage,
The spent shells now gathered and hidden.
The leaders we are told to elect in electoral shams,
Run publicity kiosks and swell friend lists.
Joint conferences to address personal interests
Dialogues that never address the root issues.
Just the formalities and no sympathy,
For the ones burnt in cruel sadistic reprisals.
The hypocrisy continues deliriously unabated,
More augmentation of the security forces.
For a first hand view of deep hypocrisy,
Walk this land, you know as beautiful.
Religious leaders will teach you political artistry,
Sermons full of ambiguity and guile.
Waywardness and narrow mindedness on display,
Political apologists give great lessons.
Religion and religious ethnicity are tools,
That keep minds and bodies in total check.
Gamesmanship by leaders is the rule of thumb,
As promises are forgotten once office is obtained.
When writing of this succulent beautiful land,
Write of the air, pregnant with sadistic practices.
This land is being stripped of worldly treasures,
And the greatest treasure is mistreated daily.
The best of nation is the inhabitants,
Ignored are the real gems of this beautiful paradise.
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 6:44 AM UTC
I began my life active with sports and other meaningless award systems.
Girl's recreational soccer, basketball, bike riding, math competitions, the works
Today, I feel weightless
useless would be best fit
As if all the running, jumping, yelling, point requiring statuses pushed the light out of my transitioned life.
I find myself sitting in one area often, as one may do
But different than sitting on a bench or sitting actively in company of others
I sit wondering exactly who I am looking at
Why am I empty lifeless longing towards an imaginary spot in the distant wall
I imagine some events in these minutes of stoic despair
Hearing goes weak and frozen, in this second, while I continue my Sunday brunch with non-conformative attitudes and her mother, the sweet old dementia
I don't mean to have their meetings often, I must of first acquainted as the first grade trauma or the Broadway rendition of Alone Thoughts featuring the Broken High School Years.
I hope to work the wheels again, to end these meetings and to live for once, in the midst of motion and pause.
This time, stopping and starting as I please.
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 3:57 PM UTC
*chaste pecks from the super-sonic youth
numb lips flutter to the hollowed cheeks of normality
no longer the hand-prints on the guide book to hostility
a pamphlet of rudimentary teachings;
the principles of tolerance and rebellion and acceptance of human beings
a concoction of suppressed psychotic behavior, quick wit, and center of satirical tease
constantly moving with heavy footsteps and heavier hearts
their minds and bodies plagued with actions from a deserted youth
soul lusting over the naivety of people before self-actualization; how crude
do they call it an existential crisis or the daily life of a agoraphobic nobody
shouts from the depths of caged fears that scrape the oblivious flesh in their brain; a bit gaudy
mother, sister, brother, father how your words crush the knots of comfort that line my internal organs
bleeding from the pores of my screams; streams of moon-beams shooting out my eyes; oh, not again!
stomping our metaphorically spiked toenails against the idealism of pop culture
oh, my, how adolescence is the worst kind of torture
cherry slushies lined with cigarettes to create a whirl-pool of nostalgia
recreational drugs and ironic situations to ease our instinctual sense of proverbial nausea
loud-mouthed demons spawned out of clothes-hangers and emotional turmoil
show up in our nightmares that we nick-name ‘a good place to contemplate suicide’
repeated imagery stacked like flap-jacks in the mouths of blissed-out sociopaths
too self-indulgent to include us in to their personal stories so we can observe, record, and assess
i don’t perceive doctors to be particularly and predominantly just and true
but i one time met a doctor who told me ‘being a teenager is perhaps the hardest thing you could ever do’*
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 10:20 PM UTC
your gusto
ripping through my veins
'merican flags
trump supporters
platinum beer
fireworks flaring
fires visible atop seedy peeled-paint rvs
technicolor lights amped up on edgy recreational vehicles
4000 (BRIGHT BLUE), 6000 (BRIGHT GREEN), 750XR ON-AND-ON-AND
covered in dirt and filth
eating meat
sizzled atop
flames atop
charcoal bricks and lighter fluid
complimented by krafts brand
mac n cheese
i am apart of it
you know
your triumph burns sticky, out of my skin
guiltily i came into being
birthed inside anthracitic sediments and lighter fluid
scratching, writhing, biting
at the mercy
of a hyper-paint / subtle-death encrusted
reality
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 8:52 PM UTC
six-inch heels abandoned
in lampless corner grimy pennies embedded in carpet
rent's due
wedding band girl "fab polka dot frocks"
waterfalling past knees outta place
on casino bus destined for rest under Ft. Worth stars
now, now ********* borealis speckled dice
true love waits
socialite lip balm and bourgeoisie hips compete
in bidding war over which black face triggerpulls
which black face eyes the ground
passerby the red light the green light
all night diner egg on chin coffee-stained porcelain teeth
"I forgave, I think. I forget."
crowded and paranoid in the left lane the right lane
empty and weak and surrender and soiled underwear in ammonia nursing home
children is a word time is a lie the polka dot and the interstate ain't selling
divorce the consequence of acoustic shadows
reblog undo #sotrue reblog
living through x-ray radiotherapy the dotted gown
never the veiny calves or the blush or the eyeliner
somewhere in North Texas shawtys are in the club
shawtys are backin' it up shawtys are dropin' it down
hit me+hit me+hit me=blackjack mishap
the marvel of the wind and of wind turbines
cognac decade brides the epitome of class and natural elegance
standing like oil derricks and treated like oil wells
so secretive and philanthropic
this taxon remains nameless
casino turned dance hall dance hall skinny ties still a thing
this wine is good. is it a merlot? no. this is purely recreational
for birthdays for weddings and Ft. Worth missionaries
10-50 passengers we've got 53, no 54 #hahahaha #whoops #party
who needs unprescribed drugs? me, me (!)
decomposing mascara sweat on brow the interstate no longer lit
polka dots has got the suicide by Manet pulled up
on her iPhone the financial stress which shudders warm-blooded moms
on her lips every mother a librarian every mother a swing-pusher
but digression next to bitterness the lowest sin
edging the cultural gateway of the old west
miracles in and miracles out of tradition following
the slender bends of middle ancient Trinity River
children a word pattycake a game
and time time a lie we left to museum panoramas
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 8:12 PM UTC
Life is all entertainment , just like a psychedelic theater, our thoughts and breath whisper reality into creation.
I roam in and out my worldless kingdom
Freedom's reserved for the wild and untamed.
For who cares to know, we could fly our way out as falcons , or swim our way in as whales. It will never really matter because it's all entertainment , while we patiently wait for the emanations.
Expectations emerge from preconceived notions and blocks the transmissions entitled to all sentient beings.
Like a collective prophet and a magnet , we learn to filter the commands to percieve the matrix. Finally to redefine and recreate a convenient path that is real.
Our thoughts and breath whisper reality into creation, i chose my fun as transmutation, life is recreational.
Words Of Harfouchism
Apr 29, 2021
Apr 29, 2021 at 5:12 AM UTC
You had become an expert at
Helping people go
You knew exactly what they needed
if they were going to palm tree skies or
to breath that always looked minty fresh
You had become an expert at
Filling bellies
You knew exactly how to gauge
The potential of the suitcase according to all
Scheduled meetings and recreational activities
You had become an expert at
Letting things through
You knew exactly how to pull
The thread through all his loose buttons
While you waited for him to come back.
You sewed back his negligence
with fingers suppressed with haldi*
That pushed deep into your nails like
A home remedy for faster fingers,
You watched reruns of who’s the boss
Switching between
Reversed gender roles and Madhuri dixit.
When you ran out of buttons to sew you
Opened up the windows so the dust can
Bake you a cake on the shelves
So you could eat it all on your own,
with one clean sweep. It is your birthday.
Everyday the clock is like a see saw
you sit on all alone
while he is on a swing set with his
feet pushing the ground he knows
how to move on his own
how to touch the sky -
you were never taught
how to be your own friend.
But it is never too late to make friends.
Have you ever tried the slide?
there are no limits
To how many times you can climb
So slide, glide
let go of gravity,
undress from reality
We keep shedding like the moon,
glowing like torches inside us
that help us stand out
from the crowd.
take your turmeric magic
and build a fire with the friction
of your spine and your mind
sprinkle it on
the crackling heat...
we all need fire to keep us warm.
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 9:38 AM UTC
I’m a witch when in the fire:
the taste, just like acid
dropping down the hole.
I’m a witch when I get out of here,
so devastated was the
dilapidated Ferris wheel.
I’m a witch when my mother comes
and succors me along,
but she don’t like
what I’ve been doing
at the witching hour--
only time I got to raise my flag.
I’m a witch when they come in
to make a martyr out of
flesh and bone. I live for the day
the people gather round’
and weep for the child of
ignorance and recreational hate.
I’m a witch when the riot
raise their fire. I’m unholy
so the temple must go down.
One, three, five, six,
give me, give me all of it.
I can take a lot, you see,
my will is unrelenting.
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 4:11 PM UTC
THE RAVE DAYS
THC
H20
Ecstasy
Recreational Dreaming
And And
Very Yes
Excessive Screaming
HAVE LEFT AN AMBIENT HAZE
Heavenly Limbo
Acidic Elation
Velocity Futuristic
Erratic Trance
Acrobatic Artificial
Nonchalance Manipulating
Bass
Intelligence
Eternal
Narcotic
Temptations
Hacienda
Astoria
Zoo
Enclosure
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 8:33 AM UTC
Priti Patel's quote on EU migration - whatever it was...
list of common surnames: cropper, cross, crouch,
dabney, dalton, daniels, eads, easton, eccleston,
fairclough, farnham, fay, gardner, garey, garfield,
haight, hanes, hailey, ibbott, irvin, isaacson,
jack, jackson, jacobs, kay, keen, kelsey,
lacey, lacy, lamar, macey, mann, marchand,
neal, nelson, neville... sure pati japati patel -
i'll be an albino in Gujarat
if your play the sitar in a sari;
but your name sounds a bit migrant
revealing, what a weird 'back of the bus'
you seem to stand on -
you want the Mongolians resurrected?
i swear we were being ousted in line
of what Queen Sheba said to Solomon:
'olive skinned throughout the geography
and the unwelcome green men on
sponged-knickers creaming for an ******
a french dessert...'
yes pretty prior, you found home on a
continent when half of the european nations
didn't practice colonial antics -
i guess it's easier to pick on them.
but with a Patel surname you sound british
already, the great experiment worked
the anaesthetic of former colonialism
numbed via recreational Ketamine use
really numbed the skull and jaw mandibles -
i hate, i hate being conscripted into
post-colonial affairs of "why it all failed"
what a waste of the urban hubs of
Manchester or Liverpool -
where once artistic expression thrived -
i hate these post-colonial societies,
it's as if they were castrated en masse,
and they're wondering why no one has a permanent
suntan in scandinavia - maybe the raw herring diet -
cinnamon up your *** magician's trick with
space between fudge of digestion, disappearing trick
but then the cough that blinds you sweetly -
i guess post-colonial nationalism wanted to
listen to non-colonial nationalism -
a former migrant like pretty plated smell
olive skinned exploited inversion of angers
but dunked a footstep into a trip-up
with non-colonial nations -
a bit like the greek bail-out - pretty patel
is a name least likely associated with migration;
you teasing the beast out?
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 9:33 PM UTC
The monk stands
in the shadow
of the cloisters,
said Benedict,
his arms folded
beneath his black habit,
his features unsmiling,
his stare out at the garth
and the clock tower
over the way.
I watch him,
feeling the sun's warmth
where the shadows aren't;
the flowers in the flower beds
are in full bloom,
the afternoon air
throws birds into the sky
to set free and fly.
Other monks
gather in the garth
after the office of None;
Patrick wheels out the trolley
with tea, coffee and cake;
we stand and talk
in the brief recreational break;
white clouds drift by,
birds take wing above
in the afternoon sky.
One talks to me of his book
on the abbey, the history
from its origins in France
until exiled here.
There is the bell
for the end of the break
and on we go
to our occupations
in our rooms or church;
I attend the Latin class
with George and Gareth,
our novice master aids us
in our studies, we learn
the holy sounds
of the Latin phrase and chants.
I love the office of Compline:
the chanting in the half-dark,
the evening light
through high windows,
the utter separation
from the outer world
and our communion with God
in prayer and chant and song,
and our hymn to Sancta Maria,
and the final bell,
and the prayers on wing and air,
and I stand momentarily
silent there.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 6:13 AM UTC
"The difference between
medicinal and recreational
is a matter of mere intention.
Of course, they can overlap.
I venture to say the Venn-diagram is a single circle.
So, relax and live well."
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 8:30 PM UTC
Losing my sanity in a place that's no longer reality
A place of all profanity
Endless waves of struggle
For nothing more than a quick kiss,
Recreational use of poisons
Or medicine to achieve fake bliss
The unstoppable pendulum
Ever moving forward and back
The useless tests and useless fact
To see wrinkles form
And loved ones leave here disabled,
Unable to comfort
The loss of ones inner soul
That safe place which you once knew
The arms of someone that knew you
The ultimate penalty and pain
The regret and the shame,
You thought you knew what it all meant
But then everything is now backward and bent
Motionless, the stillness a melancholic confirmation
Your harness is gone
And now your spiralling,
Above and beyond.
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 7:53 AM UTC
and i trek'd through the pre-dawn cold
skating along the rail tracks,
to boulder jumping a ravine
(where were Japhy's ducks to guide?)
and into a deaden'd grass field.
tapping tip of foot to avoid watery pitfalls
while flanked by rusted railyard
and meth-addled recreational plot;
cat piss'd chemical smell wafts from as
December's north wind fights a toothless perverting force.
the macadame is barren as rainfell desert
and the animals propel by combustion
in effort to scavenge Capitalism's ****
predawn
'fore the burliest awaken with hunger.
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 3:23 PM UTC
We are a branch (a strain) of lost souls.
a wandering off-shoot of Man.
A blood line.
A vagabond gene pool
of mixed breeds.
A gypsy train.
A caravan.
We rest in park lands.
Recreational areas.
Caves.
You don't see us.
You don't hear us.
But we're there.
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 8:44 AM UTC
Recreational Insanity
Unconditional Inanity
Impractical Commonality
Warm Welcome to the Family
Aug 4, 2022
Aug 4, 2022 at 9:14 PM UTC
Don't "take" action...it doesn't belong to you.
Don't "take" action..."make" it instead.
Radioactive Reaction...I, Radio Re-Active
We make, Radioaction.
Iconoclashing against a faction Hell bent on Heaven sentiment.
Fictional filament tethered to the Town Hall Square Circular non-secular content.
Stitching Supra-stitious suspicion.
Weaving away, in the name of good faith.
Imperial pillows to suffocate un-resting heads
blankets of banners-it's story time to go to bed.
Yet here i sit...reaction-ing in script.
Creating activity...through creativity.
Cre-activity.
Recreational reaction.
Revolutionary open-caption inking passion with a digital pen.
"Make me"...such a passive statement with such a threatening proposal...a posing promise...a convenient conviction to tend.
A submissive request to influence choice over chance.
Change over circumstance...situational aggressive targets
subjectively objectifying a marketable stance.
"Make" action...don't just take it
Only then will it be yours to keep.
Jun 18, 2010
Jun 18, 2010 at 9:08 AM UTC
I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about using every day.
I have dreams about those little yellow pills,
they don't speak to me,
or appear any different than they are in reality,
I just dream about holding them in my hands.
I couldn't do it,
recreational drug use.
I never could
no matter how many times I told myself I wasn't addicted, the truth remained
that I was.
I would tell myself "what kind of ******* is a drug addict, you're not, you're fine."
But I wasn't.
And everyday I have to tell myself "no, you cannot take those pills because you will not be able to stop"
Some days it ends there,
others I get as far as dialing my dealer's number.
Most days it's in the middle.
Being an addict is about having habits;
wake up, take three, (don't eat breakfast, the high will fade faster). Take four once the feeling leaves your legs, and four more before you go to sleep, so you can sleep.
Rinse and repeat; rinse and repeat.
Sobriety is the same way;
wake up, convince your self you don't need it.
Rinse and repeat as needed.
She helps, but she can't replace my addiction.
Although she gets me high, I can't become addicted to her, her lips do not have opiates hidden within,
but they have something better.
I don't think about getting high when I'm with her.
The high I get from her kisses is not dissimilar to that of methodone,
only their is no crash.
The high I get from caressing her thighs shares a likeness with *******
except it costs love, not cash.
The high I get from hearing her gasp my name as our love making intensifies is very similar to that of hydrocodone,
only much, much better.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 1:46 AM UTC
If - Vancouver was born
“Quite fun. Ran up this with my partner on our first time
up to the top of the Chief. Great fun!” - Juler 2011-09-03
Then - The alpine was created
Mountaineers started at sea level and they walked
into a
“Million thanks to the one who put
permanent draws on the bolts” - calvinclimb 2011-09-07
veritable howling wilderness
to counter this foreign **********
Thus the alpine was created by us:
Learned cosmopolitan alpinists
Would not could not cannot popularize
The exclusive sport of learned cosmopolitan alpinists
To popularize was to vulgarize
“My buudy took a big fall fell clipping,
lucky falls are super safe” - boulamania 2013-06-05
Take for instance Art Cooper’s statement:
You've heard about the Squamish Chief,
The way they go up that rock wall
I don’t think that’s climbing at all.”
No Art, certainly not
Now they do not stay long enough to feel diminished
Unlike us learned cosmopolitan alpinists
“Everyone in the free world has climbed this uber-classic!
Should you get lost, ask the party in front of you where to go” - rock climbing.com
Who drove our teeth through our lips for our
Exploratory climbing
Now
A well used recreational area
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 5:26 PM UTC
“You ask too many questions and it makes you seem desperate”
Friends don’t really exist
But companionship persists
Every little competition is more
Than trying to only win
I have to win them all
Recreational soccer and tae-kwon-doe taught me adequacy derived from strength
Inner power makes it worthwhile
Things only matter when they’re worthwhile
It gets to the point where it becomes petty too, saying
I’m better, I have the most, the most, the more
“I’m taller,” or “I run faster,” “My life ***** more than yours,” “I’ve had more lovers,” “I’ve been to more countries” and “I will die youngest”
Compare and analyze
Texts reveal things
They don’t teach you that in public school, you have to pay for it
Money buys knowledge, mobey in exchange for truth, but neither really matter,
Years of life are wasted on propaganda and it makes me sick
Be like this, if nothing else, because you don’t know what else to be like
Control control when vulnerability strikes
But who really has more knives?
Let’s compare scars, inner and outer, to reveal who you are,
But some of these humans have their own tricks, scars on the outside to substitute the inner ones being washed away, like scratching a name into the sand with a stick, washed away, turned to steel, unafraid
Recycling elements and the nonsense of existing—learn this, be that, make money, reproduce, consume
Pretend pretend pretend
What for?
Who are you really? Really? How can you be a who? A specific person like every other,
Matter doesn’t matter matter matter matter I hear that word in my head so many times I feel like I could spend my life writing lines of it “matter matter matter matter”
Until the day I die from years of writing the same words over and over, only when the pencil drops, hits the floor and breaks, will nothing matter.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 6:22 AM UTC
*This to inform that all of Your
Troubles and worries
Will be handled by
Yours
Truly today.
They will not be of any
Concern to You whatsoever.
Consider this a reward for
Enduring the hardships of
Lesser
And greater nature
That have occupied Your
Mind as of lately.
Today will be Your day off.
Please trust that solutions to
Every
Issue shall present themselves
Under our most competent
Supervision.
If You succeed at relaxing Your
Heart and mind towards
Surrender
And ease to a
Satisfactory degree, the relief
Mentioned above will also be
In effect for tomorrow.
Lastly, we insist that You
Re-read
This notice upon awakening
Tomorrow morning.
All is under control. It is
-If one wishes it to be-
An entirely recreational
Universe.
With unconditonal love,
-C.E.O.,
Department of Human
Affairs,
The Universe.*
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 3:52 AM UTC
The summer sun at certain hours of the day
angles its shine into
the ample windows of this house,
The blackout is unavoidable
during these heavy heated months
in which we find ourselves,
The power outage often keeps
all the lamps on at night
while none of them can show light,
The brightness in the room
is a byproduct of guided mirrors
trailing from my next door neighbor's house,
The built-in generator they own
often satisfies the home's residents
no matter the time, weather, or otherwise,
The reflections from across the way
align throughout the living room
and up the stairs of my house I hold out in,
The recreation of light here
can be far more than recreational
for my other neighbor's mirror systems.
Aug 2, 2010
Aug 2, 2010 at 9:17 AM UTC
If I were a ****
member, I would joust other
members with our hats.
Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 11:30 PM UTC
( )
(
)
(
)
\/
/\
/ \
++
the whole earth ( or more )
From the tiniest creatures in the sea
The sea itself !
The air !
and ALL MANKIND
are being ruthlessly destroyed
Before our very eyes !
//
We foolishly ( and vainly ) blame
Things like
GREED
LACK OF EDUCATION
OVER - POPULATION
etc
But we intuitively know that this is not so
We intuitively sense that this
UTTER DESTRUCTION
is a planned and purposeful event
Being consciously perpetuated by some power
That we cannot identify
But we know that it is too systemic
that it is not mere random events congealing
To be seen as something of human mis - management
••
Just look what has become of HUMAN SEXUALITY
Turned into a recreational activity !
A game of ADDICTIVE NUMBNESS vs . HEART ACHE !
the reproductive
Survival of the species
Aspect ?
GONE !
//
We are no longer even TRYING to survive !!
••
We worship CELEBRITY !
we have CELEBRITY SAINTS
and a CELEBRITY GOD !
//
We are gathered here in solemn commitment
To each other and our dying world
WE ARE THE POETS
we come to stimulate our souls
We come to stimulate bold words !
we come as a healing power
To renew the real meaning of words !
( words such as LOVE )
we are here to DIE !
to die in sacrifice for TOMORROW
and it's PURE PURPOSE AND MEANING
//
We are
THE LAST OF THE HUMANS
the final drops
In the broken wine bottle
Falling so seductively
Onto the old apartment floor
""
We are as the healing Waters
We give ourselves
So that the world
Might drink
//
We give ourselves to GAIA
we give ourselves to LIFE
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 4:39 PM UTC