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This isn't him,
This can't be the face he's left here,
This isn't the face he's used to seeing,
Solidified in the mirror.
It can't be the current one,
Or even close,
It's not at all how he recalls from the ponds he's known.
Not the one admired,
On crystal clear days,
Or the one sang with,
Through some humming nights.
Maybe his memory is just fogged up,
Maybe this reflection is just blurry from the showers,
They'd have burned others skin.
Still this can't be the face.
Not with the potholes for eyes,
Waning moons for lips,
And cliches for brains.
Or maybe things,
Maybe they do just change,
Maybe sometimes somethings sink in the earthquakes,
And are never swam in again.
Maybe sometimes there's no hope for reversal, redemption,
Or some rectifying light to right what's left,
Only hope in surviving the new.
I guess that's all there ever was.
If only he had it sooner,
He would have thrived in the old world,
Found melodies in the days and more mirror-less memories for the nights.
Only then could things be better off,
Different.
older poem, don't turn on your front camera or introspection may occur.

   The killer
came crashing down
smashing,  thrashing through.

What is tender's  tender
       so  for itself,   to do?

        --As it runs
        right over the top of her..

       This taker.
       This killer.

In the black,  
now in between;
so lightless and thick..

        blotting out  all screams.
There is an annihilation  here.
A void.

A terror.
To stay, means certain death

      but to leave  
      also means certain death
      So the  d is m e m b e r men t   begins
      as she is ripped, completely into half

And those halves,  into half..

.. into half

--into half..
        into half.

     And still it tears.. rips..  shreds--
Until all,  in between
is nothing  but black.

A black it can now  pretend to fill
with all of its empty promises..

and all of its counterfeit, everything.

..And then--  just up and leaves
once it is fully satiated.

     And for a while..
     the black had something.



Clinging to the rocky crags
on either side of the unlit valley
are now  the pieces of her--
war-torn and shuddering.

Terrified

Of the black, black   empty.


Of what is now  fully
     and  completely   dark.

      ~       ~      ~       ~


Timmy  ain't real tall
but look at his stature,
as his majestic strings   dialogue
the introduction.

And Warren's gotten so fat
See him now, looking so dearly,  back
at his half-pint of Chunky Monkey--
picking it back up,  for the fourth time..
scraping... scraping.. scraping..

But watch his eyes  light up
as Timmy looks up--
  over the top
of those wild-man RayBans

And with a gentle nod,  it all begins..


-- as our Warren  now digs  deep
into his Gibson's beautifully-wanton  ways..

    identifying.


    clarifying.


­    Rectifying.


Clarence, the Magician..
Stephan--  Humble, Unparalleled
And Dave's  so chill
he's part Creole.. I just know it.

So great a cloud of witness:
surrounding you, my beautiful..

coaxing  you.

    Identifying it all for you.



"He came dancing across the water
         Cortez,  Cortez..

            What a killer."
https://youtu.be/lYrD2SthaMU


ah Neil..
tell me, my brother
have I lost my way?
--Warren digs deeply into its start
as on the edge of my bed
I dig deeply,  into her.

Love is a much more beautiful killer.
Andrew Rueter Aug 2017
I believed I was an immortal
Until you began opening portals
To the future and the past
To the needle and the flask
Portals that warp my mind
Like space and time
Until I dematerialize
From the appearance of lies

This portal I must climb back through
When all the lies have become true
Like when they said portals couldn't be climbed
For there are no ledges
Only pledges
Of a hatred death wish
That leaves me breathless

The portals had to be sealed
You became my quantum mechanic
The tires of the DeLorean squealed
As we abandoned my stationary driveway
And started rectifying my past
By driving forward
The portals' gravitational pull was lifted
And I could walk again
A pedestrian in paradise
Until you teleport into the rain
And I teleport into my brain
Becoming a prisoner
To thoughts that travel at the speed of light
And create a beautiful spectrum in the mirror you presented to me
I fear the day you shatter our light barrier
You'll see you're more mature
And fly away like a jet that's harrier
Because once you can see my thoughts
You'll sell all the stock you bought
You'll see I'm merely mortal
And you'll open new portals
Michael LoMonaco Sep 2016
Misperceiving all the earlier ruins from sentiment,
Started by discrediting feelings that mold agony.

Past excruciation of inflicted gashes led to trauma,
Triggering continuous regret on a timeline for years.

Present day disapproval is caused by painful history,
Also through existing paths which are unwelcomed.

What must be entailed is change in current presence,
Not by mending previous events that inflamed harm.

Former memories from scars rectified through coping,
A process that occurs after the era of now is repaired.

Rebuild a life based on bliss immediately with help,
Beginning new perception that heals every sad moment.
LB Parker Apr 2015
She loved
           the city
           the night stars
   the snow
She loved Love
especially
         falling
              in
                  Love
but now
      feels
Nothing

not even the blizzard’s icey teeth
sinking its fangs into her skin.

To her right is the road
that She followed
to break free
of the quiet, safe life
worth anything
and everything now.
Then She looks to
the deceiving mirage
of a new start,
a bright
happy
future
filled with big beautiful towers
glowing their fake lights like amber constellations.





her fault :
believing She was strong
practically invincible
safe
and nobody could
take that away

but in one moment
all that
fragile strength
was lost.

She never asked for
  the nightmares
  the fear of Him
or for the responsibility of
two heart beats

but He didn’t listen,
said nobody will ever believe her
and once She found out about It
She lost
her
mind
completely.

looking down to the
rage of rapids
She places her hands on her
sick stomach
listens to the ZOOM of the
carefree cars
their sounds verifying that She is
finally
                 entirely
invisible.

nobody notices
       her hair restless in the wind
  the hem of her dress
       gently kissing the steele beam
           that freezes her bare purple feet.


nobody notices
when She finally escapes
  when She sets herself free
and falls into
rectifying
darkness.
With love, kelsey
Enlighten Me-
I’m always underestimating self-master bating-
Graduated-
At the top of fund frustration-
My motivation needs money relations-
The contemplation of money making has my mind at a constant hating-
My breaking patience-
Has my mind like a **** relating-
Regulations of all my banking-
See my bank account disintegrating-
I’m suffocating-making payments-Late fee statements-
Debit-Credit-Cash-oking
Debit-Credit-Cash-oking
Racki­ng bills my back is breaking-my nerves are shaking-
Shaking more than I anticipated-
Now I’m here with a life to fear-
Writing till my mind is clear-
Writing till I feel what’s real-
Writing till I seal a deal-
Multiplying-
Adding-Subtracting-and dividing-
Signing more checks than providing-
It’s suicide I’m not denying-Rhyming trying its crucifying-
Clocking in before the sun is rising Grinding flying hoping griming-living life nine to fiving-
Its re-revising-Re-defining-Rectifying-
More so that I think I’m hiding-
Killing with finical violence-Violating my banks alliance-
Maxing plastic so fantastic now I need some re-advising-interest rates have a grown man crying-Million dollars seem so un-winding-
Now I’m whining-
Constant buying-
Gas rates got me into biking-riding-fighting-
Just surviving-any discount seems so delighting-winning lotto seems o-so-righteous-buy one get one is so exciting-
Boot leg buying I ain’t lying-
Being broke is constant rewinding-It’s reminding-so relying-over drawing is my new binding-it’s confining-so I’m finding-Making takings of my disliking-Making takings that are so dang freighting-dollar scratchers are so inviting-
But this realization is so enlightening-
Moving as fast as a bolt of lighting-
I’m asking you G-d to help me like this-
I’m feeling the pain and I think I might just-
ROB ME A BANK-
BY:
RICHARD ITSKOVICH
I wanted to find the moment when I should have known
Felt the bone-chilling cold in my soul
Yet I never saw the lights blazing, staring straight ahead
Never saw this dream of mine grow cold

So beautiful and imposing, my heart stood no chance
Of rectifying the damage that was done
All of my best intentions to forever stand alone
Were banished in the moment that you walked in my sun

Now all my dreams of perfect solitude I have tossed in the wind
From the very moment that I first saw your face
Alone as I planned, you destroyed with your hands
A splendid love you left there in its place

This bone-chilling cold I felt down in my soul
Has been replaced, with a white-hot fire of delight
My heart soars in the air and smiles with no end
As together, our two hearts, take flight
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
www.changefulstorm.blogspot.com
www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/HerVigil
The potency froths the glass in ghostly embers.
Rectifying a suppressed kiss.
Liquid's juicy lubrication sweats
as the icy voice asks,
refill my void.

Fingernails cling
like thorns to skin.
Waterlogged and fogged,
my footsteps fall,
sloppy little domino.

Mindful thoughts yank at drunk appendages.
One too many benders, far too many hands.

Awake, the memory kaleidoscopes.
Pieces unmatched.
Strange images fade,
meshed in sheets.
evidence stains.
nivek Jan 2015
going back to different choices
she knows now, that would have been the bigger mistake
My wasted memory
is messing with me.
A memory where
I was left
hanging threaded
through a needle
I found in a haystack.

My past showed up and
she sent my thoughts into
a vortex of uneasiness.

I tried to reconcile
with that memory,
but it wasn’t as
rectifying as I had hoped.

Chaos surrounds the calm realm
I store the memory—waiting for
its chance to erupt and
resurrect what I wished would stay
dead.

It’s a wasted memory
for a reason—
I want it to stay that way.

She comes off as rude
and makes it obvious—
the only time she ever
makes her intentions known.

She took advantage of
my vulnerability
and left me sunk
as lost treasure.

I need to learn
to see some things
for what they are sometimes,
and that sometimes
a memory is just a memory.

I’m wasted, it’s wasted;
give me a double shot
of Jack Daniels
and let’s keep things that way.
Devin Walton Dec 2015
You aren’t going to see me cry.
You aren’t going to see me cry,
not because I am not crying;
But you can’t see Me cry.

Some little boy has been stuck,
timeless and drifting through the
pre-war era’s of space -
Playing with plastic toy soldiers…

Don’t think that because I am eloquent,
don’t think that because I have gumption;
that I will spare you at the expense of myself.
I won’t over time
                               or ever more.

I will not be an expense to any man.
I set the price of my love: and it’s giving.
I hope it’s the same for you,
along with Reciprocating.

I will not be the daughter
                                              of lies
                                                           for comfort.

If you think that there are things in the dark,
then speak your truth and walk your talk.
Be brave.

A subscription for thoughts that you don’t want
is worst than death.
Better to ask the questions
and put your faith to the test.

I will not be a crushed lily under your thigh.
Though I may bruise, I heal myself with time.
I choose to turn towards the inventory of imagination.
I choose to wrap these arms around myself.
I choose myself in all my self-destruction,
because loving you and me is worth it.

Yes, it burns.

I will not run from my origins
even when you run away from me.
I will look at my ghost with her pockets.
I will look to see the day and it’s green hues.
I will acknowledge that sunset when it calls me…
Because I am worth loving.

You can’t take the thickness of my cry,
not because you don’t carry a handkerchief.
But because you hide behind the lies
that keep the blade in the sheath, tied.
A little girl is lying somewhere,
in her soiled sheets and I stand
besides her as she begs me to leave.

Somewhere these two children exist,
crying and playing with me.

Now we are all gown ups
and it’s easier to look away then to start
because the truth is that judgment is easier
                                                                            then crying.

Judgement is safe like not crossing enemy lining -

You won’t see me when I am crying.
Because you see all of the faces of the people;
who left you there dying.
While I am Rectifying.

You won’t see me, all of this raw treasure.
All you will see are;
plastic toy soldiers
and soiled bed sheets to render.

You won’t see me the other girl in the mirror,
whose world went shifting
because she couldn’t see the same missing tears.

You won’t see the youthful adolescent
who was happy to see her face drifting.

You won’t see that young girl who woke up
without a nose to breathe in the morning.

You won’t see the girl who ate dirt,
because she wanted to see if she was living.

You won’t see who begged for forgiveness.

You won’t listen to the voices she's heard on her journey…
and you will not have cried those first tears of her own self-birthing.

You will not have lived in the wilderness for months on end.
Sat still for days as you listened
nature - until your scars had mend.

You will not have watched my face in that mirror,
of a girl turning into a woman,

whose virginity was stolen

and who now defines
her own sense of defining purity = growing.

No, you won’t -
Because that’s my story.

You are in yours.

With your own actions and darkness,

I am just someone who plays a role.

I choose to be free in this moment.
I am me, and I choose to be free.
With all of my expressions of sin,
lust, defection…

I choose to see the truth of it all,
because that is the definition of perfection.
When the little boy can live without fear,
and when the little girl can see herself
standing next to him in the mirror.
Bigot Parents
Alin Dec 2014
Fume of the mystic air
flows to create
an invisible lodge
a harmonic rhythm
of knowing the other.

Sanctuary of Love
shelters the Kiss.

Received touch
makes up
points of  Desire
as flesh and blood
from the etheric.

She,
A fluid transparency
made of interchangeable
unique crystalline particles
of unseen color,
Reflects
an indefinable atomic structure
Draws contours of a  body
that subtly shapes along the kiss.

‘Kiss me’
is a thankful whisper
‘Play me to a oneness’
gratifies the breath
along  her neck,  
lips, forehead  
and knees
an anechoic chamber of limpid breeze
rectifying bliss
an irrefutable awareness of joy  
a gifted  Unity
an honored desire

She feels the
colors of zephyr and without visualizing
grows into the derived equivalence
of emerging pinks or  jutting greens
she is destined to remain as invisible as
his’… not owned - not reserved
interdependency

‘nothing stays nowhere
a thing is not received  if you are not there
A blessing of the moment  is everywhere
you are drawn to where and what you truly were’

As the body gets formed
miracle gets real
As miracle gets real
the body gets formed

and mutates
a lucent gate
towards a universe
so The wind can pass

At the edge
she molds
to …
…. a
……….something new

The lover the love
The now at now
senses itself  
in white lines
a bridal delicacy
‘A flower’
tales say
with myriad petals
living at the edge of the universe

She reads the volatile coolness
of the warm colored
differently sized light trace  that
the fumes,
the kiss ,
the breath,
the blow,
the zephyr,
the lover
has become for her

she traces
his ever expanding Trace
so that perpetually  he shall progress
for the universe
while she remains
and observes
as her nature requires her to be
as their dual existence is conditioned to
as is nature’s one
unconditional
or Love’s

She,  the precision of  joy that he creates for
the eternal witness of bliss
Colored by divine light
of rejuvenation
of freedom
of truth
breathes
at a place beyond thoughts
at the edge of a universe.
Robert Varblow Mar 2015
i sing a song of my soul so that all can see
to some degree
my heart of hearts and my world that to me is free
my hands sweat
my body shivers
can it be from being alive... living in absolute ecstasy?

i need sustenance, i need poetry
my body needs food and ***
i need things like these
that give life and reason to wake up tomorrow
wake up tomorrow so i can spend time loving and writing
i need love, i need to be important
my mind needs to be recognized
my hope to be known, to be told i'm a writer
so that i can be sure of it,
be sure that i am what i say to myself that i am

how do I see myself?
self esteem?
is there a self to be esteemed?
am i made up of thought? feelings? perceptions?
what am i? what are you?
is this what was sought by philosophers?
lovers?
sisters? brothers?
i hope to find myself somewhere
under that rock
in the toe of my sock
behind the tree
i just hope the me i find is free

i hope that in the future i'm needed
i hope that i will be recognized for revolutionizing
for socializing for rectifying
i hope that i'm loved for my soul and for my poetry (which is my soul)
my greatest hope is for at least a little inner peace
for a quieting of the mind and tranquility of spirit
i have hope for the world because i see love everywhere
for finding love in myself it must be in everyone
for my soul is yours as yours is mine in this cosmic milkshake
shake O shake you cool cool cat
let the whole world hear your song
leave more than the impression in the couch
from where you sat

i prowl the twisting alleyways of imagination in search of heaven
i've heard that it's down here among the trees and *****
cigarette **** sidewalks
have you found it?
if you had would you have told me?
i love you don't you love me?
i've found heaven in you but you've found it
where i'd never think to look
not in a book or the bodhi tree we shook
but in the love of another
where i'd never think to look

you there! alone! aren't we all lonely wanderers!
i see you there
i see the love where you'd never think to check
come here, i beckon to you
find the love in me so ****** red
i lie alone in bed
thinking of you, dear
are things ever better left unsaid?

come with me! on the road and back again
travel with me! never let me be!
of all loves it's you i chose
come quickly now
for i'll be leaving soon
i must only wait till the road opens
and the flowers finally bloom
for love is quick
and there is so much world to see

peace! love! take me to where i can find these things
for they are all i think about in the infinite universe of my mind
like the infinite love in my heart
or the finite love of your lips

love is lonely
hate is holy
find me god! save me!
what is this life that lifts me up only to drown me
in thoughts of loss and endings
in words that spew from my mind i drown myself

poetry! music!
things so important to me
i find poetry in everything
and music straight from my dreams
spine tingling, legs shaking, head rocking,
a world orchestrated by eternity

the cigarette between my fingers burns at the tip!
how it burns burns burns
like my world burns
my life that's gone up in smoke!
will i end up rich and famous?
or happy and broke?

a lifetime of poetry ahead
words to be written
love to be made
loves to be lost
and paths to be crossed
i must get out of bed

the future scares me and
the money in the world is quite a sum
it's just too bad i want to be a ***

years from now when my song is sung
when the words have crumbled to dust
and my mind has begun to rust
will you love me then?
will i have proven my worth?
will i be happy with my life, my work?

can i rest in peace and return to the earth?
Emily L Jun 2015
Here it comes
the words
you want to say
but never do.
You hold them up
in your mouth.
That tongue's so red
of yours
Aren't you tired of
biting down.
So hard
on the harsh truth
You lose
like a poet
the right words
to choose
when you're rectifying
all the lying
but it's pretty when
You call me honey
And say, "it's nothing personal"
but I care for you
and I think about your face
when you say,
'Everything is fine,'
When nothing's going right.
Aren't you tired
of the blood
spat back in the sink?
How you think you're
On the brink
of discovering my secrets.
Just kiss me on the cheek
and whisper something sweet
in my ear
before saying things
I don't want to hear
I'll still listen
as long as the words
don't stop.
Filmore Townsend Sep 2015
taking place at bar after rare occurrence of
an early night. ordered a single whisky and tall beer.
the drunkard opposite found agreement in the random
statements i interjected between him and blonde bartender.
cheaesing his Miller to my whiskey because of false-statement
passed through these winter-warped lips. cheersing, to words
that are false belief. if only to retain him to placated  stupor.
opened book of Style, left-to-right this hand underlining sentences
and rectifying the self-criticism ever present. talking louder,
   'i just don't hear as well as i once could.'
he orders another but sends it to vacant chair adjacent mine.
stumbling, moving from his ritual spot. sitting, he claims
his upbringing as Southern Baptist. after i announced the
denomination to my rearing in childhood.
   'you're a christian, good.'    but
i don't have the heart to elaborate upon the crazed and
pantheistic beliefs i hold in truth.
   'you were baptized and saved?'    i lied,
for truth is my soul will burn in hell according to this man's
-- self-proclaimed sinner -- drunkenly spewed theological underst-
atments. his words slur as he falls into elaboration of Bible conspiracies.
adding a few
   '*****'
                      here and there,
and always in concern of his opinion of Muslims -- awkward.
my boss in background chimes; we had a similar conversation
moments before. now my words betray everything stated during
prior moment. i order another beer then excuse myself to ****.
orig: 020914
Feb 2018
today i felt the need to let go.

no, im not telling you for the
sake of seeking attention.

but today i had to let go...

let go of my worries,
stresses, thoughts, insecurities
that have been engulfing me;
worsening by the moment.

so i erased it all from my mind.
only giving it the freedom
to return at any other time

any other time
but now.

because i could no longer carry
the suffocating weight of
the burden of those feelings
on my mind

my sanity was on the
brink of mental destruction,
overwhelming and no control.

so i let it out feelings and thoughts
in a way that brought with it
a limited peace card.

in the form of steamy streams of
hot torrents that manifested
the arduous pain - my bottled up
emotions and its result that
came in floods leaving me feeling
a drip of rectifying relief...

but not close to
feeling satisfied.

although to be honest
it pacified me
long enough for me
to attentively apprehend
that emotions and feelings
were tides; continuously
falling and rising

but with time
I’d be in the last stages
of my metamorphosis
I’d be in control of the tide
I’d be surfing along its waves
finally infused with tranquility

because for the first time
in what would be a long time,
i would be at peace.

-z
if you liked this give it a like, love, share or even add to your collection :)
Silence Screamz Dec 2014
Sit inside the tube of eternal thought
Hearing the train roar by
Clack clack on the steel
Erasing memories of the bleeding brain

Pick up the ribbon of sorrow
Blind yourself with nothing but temptation
Silent tears pound the pavement
Rectifying my existence with pain

Cross my emotions with rooted aggression
Tempt my fate by the tangled noose
My toes sweep the chair, tipped over
It grips my neck, one last breath
When all hope is lost and no way out
Cedric McClester Jan 2016
By; Cedric McClester

The Governor apologized
But the people of Flint realized
He had pulled the wool over their eyes
With contaminated water supplies
It happened when he switched the source
From Lake Huron to the Flint River, of course
It was to save money but he now has remorse
And his voice is starting to get hoarse

And if the people needed further proof
To realize that somebody goofed
Now the lead levels have gone through the roof
And this is the naked truth
See it’s gone from bad to worst
And the damage can’t be reversed
So the people are feeling cursed
They need bottled water to quench their thirst

They’re drawing Lake Huron water once more
And that’s a good restart for sure
Although it isn’t a magical cure
Cuz the water will remain unpure
Until the water is filtered and the pipes are clean
The lead will be there albeit unseen
Negatively affecting the brains and the spleen
The people will still be betwixed and between

It was the Governor’s people they say
That made it all happen that way
And to date no one’s had to pay
For the damages or for the delay
In rectifying the situation
The people have had to be patient
Listening to their public relations
But who’s answering the allegations?
















Cedric McClester, Copyright 2016.  All rights reserved.
Grace Jordan Jun 2013
Silver climbing up my arm,
Sharp and twisted brings me joy,
Twisted how it is so wrong,
Twisted how my heart races like a bullet through my head
Racing, racing, always racing
Blood calms me down, brings me peace when I’m alone
The ****** lullaby I sing in my head, is scorned upon by all I love
Funny how if it didn’t leave scars nothing could stop me from playing my ****** lullaby all night long
My fingers such masters at the keys, playing crimson notes on my skin and rectifying memories of days gone by
This is my music, my song, and I lose it because of them
They cause my pain, and I try to cushion it with my lullaby
But they don’t let me
Its funny how it hurts so good,
How one song can lead to so much trouble,
And its funnier how they see me cry,
And do nothing,
But one little cut and the fear gets turned on,
So I’ll keep on singing my ****** lullaby, in secrets small and invisible,
To one day feel joy again and for once feel at peace.
The greatest mistake
Is'nt making the greatest mistake,
But the greatest mistake
Is rectifying not a slight mistake,
For this culminates in the greatest mistake.


©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros.
Jumeirah, Dubai. 7th.FEB.2018.
#words of wisdom
Cana Apr 2018
It’s 3am and I’m still up
Not for the usual reasons.
There’s no beasts at my door
Nary a cloud to threaten my pate with showers
Not a beat or a drop being drunk
No trains to far off snow streaked drips
Nor a silken skinned goddess thieving my sleep
With manacling locks and glazed over eyes
It’s more mundane and a lot less dramatic
Making calls to far off lands
Organising, rectifying.
Office work for the witching hours
Adulting is such fun
Yaaaay
We do what we have to :(
ujala Aug 2014
The world surrounds the in’s and out’s,
the truth in the authentic locus,
Millions of people move the scouts,
in order to increase their focus.
The corrupt world,
induces to follow the tradition,
Creaming the beneficial fold,
making the submerging the verification.
Contempting the placid,
that none other would do,
Blemishing the bracket,
elaborating the déjà vu.
Alteration is necessary,
and a proximate change we need,
Admitting the weary,
was a very doltish deed.
Trepidation should be removed,
the coercion it had built,
Destroying its aged bedrock,
and the selfish guilt.
Resuming the rejuvenate change,
the mutate we devoir,
Establishing the new welkin,
and the heavens we desire.
Commemorating the new holy,
we partage our obligations,
Rectifying our contemporary folly,
by deciphering our bygone praxis.
Lucas Feb 2019
rectifying desires of ill-perceived intentions
because what the mind thinks it wants
is deception of pleasure
candy-coated poison
helping the vitriolic hard-pills-to-swallow go down

greens transform to intermittent reds
reflective plashes amplify a glossy atmosphere
as steamy plumes smudge colors
like the tears in my eyes
flares from passing lamplight:
an inconstant reminder bright spots of life
are just as transient and the darkest portions
losing myself between spaces separating drops on the windshield

my brain reverts to cruise-control
perhaps trapped between dreary thoughts
or weary from overexertion
hate what you are; hate what's becoming
harden your heart, grow up

there's an enveloping comfort of the dark
a cool relief from
life's limelight on total depravity
with my eyes closed, I can't see any of it
with cacophonic beats, I can't hear my thoughts
an addiction to instances untouched by time
Dennis Willis Jul 2021
This place of discomfort
between sips of wine
unbearable
though not my theme
tell me is it the end
or the beginning
of the day

isn't clear

between here
and still
can't see
after years
of looking
to see

are you there
i'm trying to see
to see you
i'm learning
to see you
here

i can never
see you here

this is an arm
around a lie
hold on
little brother
we walk
some boulevard
hands in our pockets
jauntily
thinking
we remember home
and can return
again and see mom
making coffee
The Variation Feb 2018
Lonely voices tear at me,
Sibilent whispering with no end.
Caress my collarbone,
Taste every inch of the skin.

Asinine bleeding, lost on me,
Raging fire inside my skull.
Corrupting and rusting
my being inside.

Beautiful afflictions **** the mind,
Rancid and fleeting, indiscriminate.

In nobis mortuus deambulatio,
Morbus animorum detracta.

Requiem lost among the dead,
Dreamers lose hope after drought,
Rectifying the overdose.
Sk Abdul Aziz Oct 2015
Falling for you was the best mistake i've ever committed
And i have absolutely no intentions of rectifying it
No one increases my heart rate like you do
And i intend to keep it that way
My heart only feels for you
My mind only thinks of you
My eyes only want to see you
And my arms only want to hold you
Nash Wolfe Dec 2014
"Take a look in the mirror, what do you see? All that is staring back is your reflection. A reflection of what, of who you are, or whom you use to be? Only one person can change your life and only one person can make you who you are. That person is yourself."



"Every mistake, every lie will catch up to you. So be prepared to face it at the end. Don't try to run away from your past because it will follow you. You can't cover up the trail of your mistakes and expect all of your problems to go away. It only takes one time for the wind to blow on it and reveal it once more."




Every breath of air we take in,  is another secret we hold deep within

Every sacrifice that we make, is just another chance to see the change

Fewer days that are left, which leaves us with nothing but more of our regrets

Face to face with our lies, still trying to deny

Starting to believe what was created in our minds, now we desire to know the truth

Setting off on a journey to our past, hoping to find something new

All of our lives we decided to hide underneath these lies

Then one day a past event reminded us what we use to be like

Finding hope and strength, trying to reveal what we had erase

Now we spend everyday, rectifying our mistakes

How far does one go? Just to figure out what they didn't know

Was it worth the change? Was it worth the lies?

That I guess, I'll let you decide
Sefali Rani Oct 2018
That afternoon he was eating,
Thinking of rectifying the unwitting-
“Twelve written cleared,nine interviews faced,
Yet I am not placed!”

Perturbed and heavy-hearted as he was,
As if the life has paused;
An unread message just popped-
‘Candidate, you are placed.’

At home the phone rang-
“Dad,I am placed!”
Unconscious of his leg pain,jumped off his bed;
Rhapsodically called his wife,-
“Look finally our child is placed!”
Next room his sister sat,
Dancing was the only way she could react.

Finally the dawn has arrived,
Efforts have been prized.
“Everything shall fall into place one day”
Someone has rightly conveyed!
Ravindra gora Oct 2020
You know what, I'm stupid, because i don't live upto expectation of my beloved ones.
I'm stupid because ,I'm not even loyal to myself!!..
I'm stupid because ,I prefer excuses over work!!.
I'm stupid because ,I don't see myself as a champion in the mirror!!.
I'm stupid because, I let negativity to take a toll on me!!..
I'm stupid because, I think people care the same, as i care of them!!.
AND my biggest stupidity is that, i'm writing poetry on this rather than rectifying them!!!
please be honest to yourself and HUSTLE HARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ruby Nemo Apr 2018
to invent excusable outcomes
new man? new problems
awaiting me when I come home
can't I just blend forever
into the back of this car seat
maybe so then quiet can fulfill
attending false needs
and rectifying foreign relations
which never resembled harmony.
you lay out the floor plan
address solvable issues
but perhaps I'd rather rely
on the uncertainty a nighttime friend delivers
so I'll stay out here
among creations of another king
until the choir softens
leaving fate to determine
upon further mystery.
Medical and/or scientific experts
     doth now corroborate,
promulgate, validate...(wait
don't go there's much more)
     linkedin with falsehood
     that requires me to terminate,
an average dumb founded guy
     (noir) tasked with rectifying

     (with quiet riot) eek quate
absolute zero truthfulness humans
     only use 10 percent
     (or other small percentage)
     brain power in (Jean) Nate,
or anybody else for that manner
     ("say hypothetically
     gals named Kate)

which unfounded,
which urban cowboy legend
     persisting in perpetuity, I hate
tubby the bearer
     of unwelcome news
     (doubling up and
     down as a pernicious
     cherished rumor squasher

boot nada one
     reputable specialist studying
     intellectual potential,
     would unilaterally vouchsafe,
     (and risk their judicious, marvelous,
     and prestigious reputation,
     which years to elevate),
yet such stubborn presumption

     firmly maintained latched onto
     (analogous to fish unknowingly
     snagged with "FAKE" bait)
nonetheless specialists of the
     (egg shaped) noggin
     do attest in aggregate
that some n'er
     do well (christened

     Matthew Scott Harris)
     did whimsically create
believable Trumpism,
     which invalid conclusion
     adopted to enervate
his own cognitive impairment,
     thus motivating him
     tubby poetically great,

and even though, he got told
     afore stated said
     baseless, groundless and/or
     premise, aye intimate,
the sure fire way
     to expunge (purge) nagging notion
     (short of a karate
chop to his fountain

     head of noodle,
     which idea to in Tim mate,
would not rank as emphatic,
     dramatic, and/or climatic,
     as electric shock therapy
     last ditch effort to operate.
A diabolical, inimical, piratical,
and venal worm,
whose cut throat devious shenanigans
found yours truly to squirm;
his addiction to money (mine)
sated until he ****** me dry
analogous to nicoderm,
yet impossible mission
to smoke out the most minute germ
converting life savings of mine
into bitcoin cyber currency.

Horrible reality of being hoodwinked,
preyed upon human vermin
immediately upended high jinxed mien
floundering ten thousand leagues
under the cyber sea
analogous to Titanic submersible.

I always feel myself surprised
to what length con artists (scammers)
expend themselves, when they
(he, she) could be
productive citizens of society.

In plain English,
yours truly got blindsided, extorted
interrogated, needled,
tricked, and frankly zapped
courtesy fobbing off
honest to goodness verity
springing from computer malware
kickstarting me to be virtually robbed
in broad daylight
with the fullest consent of
self anointed aspiring poet,
(steeled against irony

as if liberating money
in both saving
and checking accounts – two of each
emptied out as if expunged funds
belonged to somebody else),
when delivering a sucker punch
that cost me more than
thirteen thousand dollars
inviting such thoughts
to overdose on prescription medication.

Hence, the shonda rhyme
of utter literal pennilessness
decries hatred linkedin
proclaiming scathing wretchedness
upon the talking head
(with a clipped dialect)
ensnaring unsuspecting victims
(lower case in point -
writer of these words),
when Macbook Pro laptop
got rendered non functionally disabled
thank you ghost in the machine,
wherein reigned indubitable chaos.

Hence, loss of nest egg
(found me cracked up)
regarding resultant monetary liquidation
fall of the crowded house ushered
disquisition without hesitation
briefly describing my death
originally due to fetal positioned
congenital psychological affliction
and today's painful aggravation,
when countless Benjamins
gussied up as hobgoblins

joined human league
averse to plaintive benediction
thence, this with mine jetblue
skinny legs like a chicken
his (mein kampf) got dealt mortal
(who gives a hoot) blowfish
rem mains disintegrated
by mailer daemons usurped dereliction,
whereby sanity given eviction
in the subsequent fiction

that makes feeble attempt
to evoke stricken gumption,
where eons ago nihilistic thoughts rode
roughshod to wreak humiliation
upon prepubescent initiation,
whereby the antithesis of jubilation
kept the author (yes, yours truly)
like a trapped mouse
in a cat protected kitchen,
where no cheeses cur heist
could rectify or bring libation.

Noah hide dee ya what mailer daemon
possessed this earthlinked
live nada so hotmail
to splutter so much persiflage
as evidenced above and in the following.

Ye might well categorize
the palaver as pure llama
heaped dung attempting
to sneak into yar consciousness
as some esoteric badinage aspiring
to convey that this doodler
with words adroit
with the english language.

Temptation to bid fare thee well
bah humbug anguish
cuz down the gullet goes lethal drug
e'en without any farewell hug
after smacking lips polished
off deadly drink from mug.

Within reverie long fostered hankered freedom
at last attained to exit silently
terrestrial real estate oblate spheroid
during hulu heralded century 21,
which would deliver
(ants sir) rectifying eternal senescent deliverance.

Life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness
and goodwill toward men/women
served as a mere pretense
extant the global arcade.

Nothing boot charade, enfilade
(albeit with limp poetic/
prosaic pugnacious), facade,
gilded hilariously inside *******.

Ever since he kickstarted lifelessly,
his noggin oddly plunged quietly
resting as a deceased shutterfly
tonight under vaporous wisps
as somber mood prevailed
amidst the cloistered silence imposed from
the shunted cremated preference
re: symbolic (logical)
figurative burial of Matthew Harris
subsequently reincarnated as soft dust.

Potter's field here I come,
one harried styled swiftly tailored
faceless book earthworm member
joined the rank n file
of his slimy brethren n cistern
when a mortal male
(crushed courtesy cruel
cockamamie crime) ceased
to live June twenty first
two thousand twenty three.

I foresaw how miserable fate worse than death
resolved, albeit at loss to kith and kin
of beloved brother, father to deux
darling grown daughters and husband
since July twenty fifth nineteen ninety six
now left destitute and widowed.

Immune to antics of scallywags,
the grim reaper undertook requisite business
and swung a his scythe with effortless breath
and started coffin.

He exhaled little billows of cold air
while awaiting the hearst
carrying lifeless body
of none other than me doppelganger.

Prior to imagined demise, I took special pains
to select an ideal piloted kamikaze pilot plot.

A mossy glen with a mill by the pond
of my boyhood swimming hole
served like the ideal welcome mat
for the return of this native son
long gone from his family estate of Glen Elm.

At pinnacle of storied fame
death struck (with welcome arms) unexpectedly
while dodging the madding crowd
off hucksters, punsters,
and xenophobic bummers
jostling to get a glimpse of renown author,
where paparazzi seemed
destined to track me down.

As the advocate of countless essays
on inalienable rights
for all creatures large and small,
no pause from the hounding
local populace offered peace of mind.

Until now!

The prospect of dying
never scared this non-believer.

Cessation of consciousness
essentially served completion of life
in corporeal form
and reconstituted physical being
into grist for other organisms to flourish.

Karma and glorious unique characteristics
comprising each of our respective charisma,
dogma, and persona
(generally comprising an enigma
to the world) absorbed
after contract with cosmic creator lapsed.

Brief occupancy on this terrafirma
as inscribed in genetic code
(merely a blink of an eye
in the universal schema)
gave this now deceased dreamer
notion to maximize enjoyment of each day.

One need not globe trot
(and boast of espying exotic places),
but could experience inner harmony
by imbibing the present.

Simple pleasures that abounded
in the wild or evoked via creative imagination
of august writers supplied
ample sustenance for satisfaction.

Contemplative and introspective mien
prompted Eros to be discerned
in the grand canyon of Mother Nature
in tandem with personal motive
to indulge like-minded thinkers
since the beginning of time.

Any given day frequently found thoughts
turning over every figurative
jagged rolling stone
when the veiled, shrouded, cloaked...
characterization invoking angel of death
might silently spring a surprise visit,
which metaphysical thought
interestingly enough gave sigh of relief.

Why?

Upon termination of enjoying existence
in living color, the eradication
of this pet peeve of mine i.e.
anxiety/ panic attacks
interwoven with inxs
of obsessive compulsive behavior
would dissolve into basic elements
of earth, wind and fire.

No iota amount of matter
marshaled the non-entity dimension
would assume command.

Those former psychological trials
would thence be relinquished
from their parasite role
and recompose cells
of one mortal man (me)
into matter to be recycled
into raw materiel
for other organisms to feast upon.

Basic constituent cells
of **** sapien in question
would become necessary seeds
for some other manifestation
for plant or animal development.

Godaddy maggots sans fancy feast,
a best buy per this former
foo fighting beastie boy,
whose nihilistic outlook
promulgated within his in utero psyche.

Gestation as an embryonic fetus,
the potential live, googly eyed,
earth-linked, wannabe hotmail prodigy
harbored no oshkosh bug gosh
pinterest to remain
in the world wide web of bad company.

Hence, nothing could mollify measly
mumbling linkedin kibitzer,
albeit progressive matchless
who unwittingly opened
the red box of Pandora.

Molecular features
would assume novel combinations
thru said degradation of flesh,
yet improvisation of biology
would wield wasted corpse
that once epitomized an articulate,
civil, enumerate, glib, invertebrate,
kind male into novel marvels
of unpredictable genus and species.
Soundlessly ricochet to and fro
hither and yon
roundly bobbing within squarely donned
talking heads of ****** killers,
one pyromaniac burning
down the crowded house
sparking magnificent conflagration
towering inferno emulating

caterwauling, kickstarting, ululating
(think) stray cats on a hot tin roof
nsync with 10,000 maniacs
intense heat and duraflame
long since eroding
weather beaten soul asylum
strip mining away
vestial trace, hence impossible mission

rectifying purposeless existence
imputed to passive self sacrifice
upon cusp of prepubescence
mystified, mummified, modified,
stilled, lulled, andhushed
obsessively grammatically fanatical
oftimes feeble efforts yielded countless
corrective editing measures
subsequently rendering lame

resultant deplorable effort
despite NON GMO gluten
and monosodiumglutimate free
diet of (hooked) worms
limply tethered symbolic constructs
analogous to dangling participles
scraping, plowing, etching...
imperfect triangulated Hollywood squares

across parched stream of consciousness
former luscious cerebral riverbeds
long since bone dry
millennium since onset climate change
courtesy global warming
blowing in the hot torpid wind
sands of time elapsed
accepted biological demise

forever linkedin with his forebears
birth/death repurposed cycle
activated, demonstrated, gifted...
integration, narration, reincarnation...
biochemical, geological, paleontological...
legacy randomly begetting me
epochal, integral, orbital saga
since time immemorial
fifty plus shades of once ashen gray

well muscled athletic human specimen
oblivious corpse good n plenti
petrified, metamorphosed, coalesced
bleached skull and crossbones
grown brittle when blazing sun's
rays generated aforementioned disparate ideas
jangled, rankled, and zapped
in tandem with bared tiger (no lion)

slapdash pell mell, helter
skelter, higglety pigglety...
germane blitzkrieg rained down above
leaving writer, tortured, mortified, and benumbed
without either sense or sensibility
nor pride and prejudice
perusing discombobulated chaotic
kamikaze lobbed muddlesome nonsense.
Dennis Willis Sep 2020
I have scribbled an array of variables
tho the number of dimensions
is indeterminate
so the address
of that feeling
(0)(1)(2)(abandonment
doesn't compute
keys stick hesitate
as this is close
one more just one more
so i return to the start

from the array i resolve
you know its true this listening we do
arteries of thought hardening in camps

i narrate from cell to cell a tale somehow
somehow never anything at all wound around

i just have these minutes and i'm being here
at once rectifying and stultifying just fying really

a parade we are waving to a smaller time
when fewer things said fewer things to us
Arlene Corwin Jun 2020
I’m taking the liberty of sending you something just finished,  Motivated first by the thought of Co-vid people (stuck down or not) living in small apartments, forced by necessity to be alone and perhaps going bonkers.  Then, of course, I knew I was speaking to any- everyone - period.
Hot off the press:
     How To Tackle Loneliness

Tackle: such a funny word,
A lovely word, an active word.
Loneliness: a sad, inactive, ‘only’ word
Which smells of isolation,
Friendlessness, abandonment, rejection.
Unalloyed projection
Of a mind not seeing rightly.

All it needs is rectifying;
Taking thoughts from out the air
Or in the head where thoughts are spread.
Rejecting systematically the whirling round,
And casting out their ugly sound;
Lifting hand or leg or ‘***’
To something new albeit ‘dumb’.
It does not matter what you do.
It’s just to shift the thought somehow;
Shake the body, use the eye, eyebrow;
Limbs too are there to help you stay
New focussed, endlessly creative.

You’re not alone when you’re alone.
Make your thoughts a telephone.
Ideas are constant.
Change the coin
With which to launch the motivation -
And the whole becomes a boon
To get your ‘happy’ hormones working.
Happiness is always lurking -
There to make you comfortable.

Loneliness, the thief of solace,
A grief giver, full of malice
Leaves when you create in mind,
Find and form and shape some kind
Of Anything.

Use your senses - all of them:
Eyes, nose, ears, tongue, touch: each limb.
You’ve got a toolbox built within.
You have and are your best companion.
There!  A sound and practical solution
Lies at hand.
How To Tackle Loneliness 6.22.2020 The Processes:Creative,Thinking, Meditative; Definitely Didactic II;Arlene Nover Corwin
more difficult than
threading a camel
through the eye of a needle.

If unable to maintain contractual obligation
(meaning being delinquent
with timely monthly payments)
our 2020 Hyundai Elantra
will be repossessed.

Though totally aware
when ghost in the machine
a MacBook Pro (Retina, 15-inch, Mid 2015)
rendered said laptop locked courtesy malware,
which unfortunate circumstance
launched an avoidable fiasco,
I foolishly erred and dialed
the number that flashed
with unbeknownst sinister implications.

Lemme preface details of scoundrels who preyed on obliviousness blindly ensnared in scam by informing thee dear reader of the fact that I take nine prescription medications (for severe social anxiety, mild depression, and palmar hyperhidrosis), and often feel (dazed and confused) in a heavily drugged stupor.

The following summary presents the scenario copied/pasted when details initially whipsawed psyche of mine with horrible feeling of being duped, and utterly reckless and absent at oblivious to red flags.

All sense and sensibility went out the window on what began as an ordinary Tuesday, where writer of these thought of death wish.

I already filed a police report after being bilked for above mentioned funds, which incident occurred encompassing the dates June 20th and 21st 2023, whereby an Apple tech impersonator scared the dickens out of me by claiming Macbook Pro replete with countless Trojan Horses, computer viruses, malware, et cetera, and mislead me to withdraw cash out checking and savings accounts then going to the nearest ATM to convert cash into bitcoin cyber currency vis a vis courtesy creating easy to pluck virtual pursestrings thru My Wallet.com. Said funds siphoned immediately into the coffers of hucksters.

Effusiveness coursed thru my every pore regarding glimmer of optimism recouping all or part of the monies adroit bamboozler (scammer) finagled courtesy prestidigitation. He wove a fabrication, whereby Citizens Bank employees supposedly schemed (courtesy stealth me) to scoop up rightful capital constituting checking and savings of yours truly.

Matthew Harris courteously, imploringly, and quiveringly asked divine omniscient wizard if he could initiate a line of communication with your head honcho to present synopsis (see following paragraphs), whereby obliviousness to being exploited (to extract life savings - like taking candy from a child) predicated and linkedin to mindset on the date of June 20th, 2023.

Unsure how Macbook Pro (the computer utilized here and now) got hacked, but while perusing innocuous poetry website, a ghost in the machine suddenly, and unexpectedly disallowed me to proceed with any further activity. A warning message and contact number showed up which specific details no longer recalled. Even after turning off the laptop, and then turning said trusty Apple product (par excellence) back on, the same ominous warning reappeared.

After hesitantly dialing the number (out of service at this juncture), the following ruse coalesced.

We initially spoke late morning on the former aforementioned date after Macbook Pro rendered inoperable. As mentioned, no matter I turned off computer then turned machine back on again, an ominous message with contact number appeared to flicker on the screen rendering any processing impossible.

Fingers nervously dialed 331-307- 4900 (as iterated above number no longer in service) what supposedly fronted as Apple Technical facility. A alternate number (559-421-6744 also now no longer in service) also utilized.

Nevertheless, upon answering at the other end, said impatient impersonator, and impious imposter reeled off an immediate recitation of countless Trojan Horses, computer viruses, malware, et cetera supposed populated Macbook Pro, which prognosis scared the dickens out of me lest all private date compromised.

In order to resolve computer issues (in retrospect those **** bugs most likely planted, when he or his cohorts hacked laptop - I thought safe and sound with relevant protection) then convincing con artist barked out the following commands.

As directed (as if figurative gun held to my head), I drove to two separate Citizens Bank branches; one in Limerick, Pennsylvania and another Trappe, Pennsylvania roamed across riches and took out goodly sums; $ MMMC, $ MMMMCM, and $ IXD at either former or the latter site over the course of two days.

Said key player employing artifice repeatedly warned me to be attentive (keeping cell phone of mine turned on (cuz clerks might exhibit over friendly behaviour regarding said plan extorting money as a mode to distract me), and thus wise to keep mum lest tellers become privy to getting nabbed.

Truth be told, I take nine prescription medications (for severe social anxiety, mild depression, and palmar hyperhidrosis), and often feel (dazed and confused) in a heavily drugged stupor, which state of mind being comfortably numb rapaciously, necessarily, and hopefully helps explain how said drugs contributed to submissive foggy mental health condition.

A short time after stepping out the door (here at apartment b44 - highland manor apartments to track whether I happened to be following instructions), his calling on landline (to keep tabs on me) location showed Comerica Bank (1-800-266-3742) in Michigan.

After exiting the first and subsequent second Citizens bank branch (June 21st, 2023), I maintained regular dialogue (using cell phone 267-643-7315) with "Harvey Specter," who then instructed his thoroughly conquered, connived, and convinced subject (me) to drive to MP gas station; location 125 Gravel Pike, Collegeville, PA 19426.

Once there, whereat ATM machine accessed, and all the cash converted into bitcoin cryptocurrency, and virtually stored in MyWallet.com, which process (for reasons that seemed logical and believable at the time) also entailed scanning/photographing my license.

Upon returning to said man cave, an uneasy non peaceful feeling arose. Hunch validated after dialing Crypto currency toll free number 888-897-9792, and got told all monies liquidated, hence I filed a police report despite capturing culprit an exercise in futility.

Fingers and toes crossed (to no avail) after professionalism sought to affect a desirable outcome, and since that fateful fiasco finances never bounced back to a satisfactory dollar figure.

I now append a poetic endeavor that did recaptcha dire emotional straits linkedin to the unconscionable spectre of Harvey Specter or so he falsely called himself.

A diabolical, inimical, piratical,
and venal worm,
whose cut throat devious shenanigans
found yours truly to squirm;
his addiction to money (mine)
sated until he ****** me dry
analogous to nicoderm,
yet impossible mission
to smoke out the most minute germ
converting life savings of mine
into bitcoin cyber currency.

Horrible reality of being hoodwinked,
preyed upon human vermin
immediately upended high jinxed mien
floundering ten thousand leagues
under the cyber sea
analogous to Titanic submersible.

I always feel myself surprised
to what length con artists (scammers)
expend themselves, when they
(he, she) could be
productive citizens of society.

In plain English,
yours truly got blindsided, extorted
interrogated, needled,
tricked, and frankly zapped
courtesy fobbing off
honest to goodness verity
springing from computer malware
kickstarting me to be virtually robbed
in broad daylight
with the fullest consent of
self anointed aspiring poet,
(steeled against irony

as if liberating money
in both saving
and checking accounts – two of each
emptied out as if expunged funds
belonged to somebody else),
when delivering a sucker punch
that cost me more than
thirteen thousand dollars
inviting such thoughts
to overdose on prescription medication.

Hence, the shonda rhyme
of utter literal pennilessness
decries hatred linkedin
proclaiming scathing wretchedness
upon the talking head
(with a clipped dialect)
ensnaring unsuspecting victims
(lower case in point -
writer of these words),
when Macbook Pro laptop
got rendered non functionally disabled
thank you ghost in the machine,
wherein reigned indubitable chaos.

Hence, loss of nest egg
(found me cracked up)
regarding resultant monetary liquidation
fall of the crowded house ushered
disquisition without hesitation
briefly describing my death
originally due to fetal positioned
congenital psychological affliction
and today's painful aggravation,
when countless Benjamins
gussied up as hobgoblins

joined human league
averse to plaintive benediction
thence, this with mine jetblue
skinny legs like a chicken
his (mein kampf) got dealt mortal
(who gives a hoot) blowfish
rem mains disintegrated
by mailer daemons usurped dereliction,
whereby sanity given eviction
in the subsequent fiction

that makes feeble attempt
to evoke stricken gumption,
where eons ago nihilistic thoughts rode
roughshod to wreak humiliation
upon prepubescent initiation,
whereby the antithesis of jubilation
kept the author (yes, yours truly)
like a trapped mouse
in a cat protected kitchen,
where no cheeses cur heist
could rectify or bring libation.

Noah hide dee ya what mailer daemon
possessed this earthlinked
live nada so hotmail
to splutter so much persiflage
as evidenced above and in the following.

Ye might well categorize
the palaver as pure llama
heaped dung attempting
to sneak into yar consciousness
as some esoteric badinage aspiring
to convey that this doodler
with words adroit
with the english language.

Temptation to bid fare thee well
bah humbug anguish
cuz down the gullet goes lethal drug
e'en without any farewell hug
after smacking lips polished
off deadly drink from mug.

Within reverie long fostered hankered freedom
at last attained to exit silently
terrestrial real estate oblate spheroid
during hulu heralded century 21,
which would deliver
(ants sir) rectifying eternal senescent deliverance.

Life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness
and goodwill toward men/women
served as a mere pretense
extant the global arcade.

Nothing boot charade, enfilade
(albeit with limp poetic/
prosaic pugnacious), facade,
gilded hilariously inside *******.

Ever since he kickstarted lifelessly,
his noggin oddly plunged quietly
resting as a deceased shutterfly
tonight under vaporous wisps
as somber mood prevailed
amidst the cloistered silence imposed from
the shunted cremated preference
re: symbolic (logical)
figurative burial of Matthew Harris
subsequently reincarnated as soft dust.

Potter's field here I come,
one harried styled swiftly tailored
faceless book earthworm member
joined the rank n file
of his slimy brethren n cistern
when a mortal male
(crushed courtesy cruel
cockamamie crime) ceased
to live June twenty first
two thousand twenty three.

I foresaw how miserable fate worse than death
resolved, albeit at loss to kith and kin
of beloved brother, father to deux
darling grown daughters and husband
since July twenty fifth nineteen ninety six
now left destitute and widowed.

Immune to antics of scallywags,
the grim reaper undertook requisite business
and swung a his scythe with effortless breath
and started coffin.

He exhaled little billows of cold air
while awaiting the hearst
carrying lifeless body
of none other than me doppelganger.

Prior to imagined demise, I took special pains
to select an ideal piloted kamikaze pilot plot.

A mossy glen with a mill by the pond
of my boyhood swimming hole
served like the ideal welcome mat
for the return of this native son
long gone from his family estate of Glen Elm.

At pinnacle of storied fame
death struck (with welcome arms) unexpectedly
while dodging the madding crowd
off hucksters, punsters,
and xenophobic bummers
jostling to get a glimpse of renown author,
where paparazzi seemed
destined to track me down.

As the advocate of countless essays
on inalienable rights
for all creatures large and small,
no pause from the hounding
local populace offered peace of mind.

Until now!

The prospect of dying
never scared this non-believer.

Cessation of consciousness
essentially served completion of life
in corporeal form
and reconstituted physical being
into grist for other organisms to flourish.

Karma and glorious unique characteristics
comprising each of our respective charisma,
dogma, and persona
(generally comprising an enigma
to the world) absorbed
after contract with cosmic creator lapsed.

Brief occupancy on this terrafirma
as inscribed in genetic code
(merely a blink of an eye
in the universal schema)
gave this now deceased dreamer
notion to maximize enjoyment of each day.

One need not globe trot
(and boast of espying exotic places),
but could experience inner harmony
by imbibing the present.

Simple pleasures that abounded
in the wild or evoked via creative imagination
of august writers supplied
ample sustenance for satisfaction.

Contemplative and introspective mien
prompted Eros to be discerned
in the grand canyon of Mother Nature
in tandem with personal motive
to indulge like-minded thinkers
since the beginning of time.

Any given day frequently found thoughts
turning over every figurative
jagged rolling stone
when the veiled, shrouded, cloaked...
characterization invoking angel of death
might silently spring a surprise visit,
which metaphysical thought
interestingly enough gave sigh of relief.

Why?

Upon termination of enjoying existence
in living color, the eradication
of this pet peeve of mine i.e.
anxiety/ panic attacks
interwoven with inxs
of obsessive compulsive behavior
would dissolve into basic elements
of earth, wind and fire.

No iota amount of matter
marshaled the non-entity dimension
would assume command.

Those former psychological trials
would thence be relinquished
from their parasite role
and recompose cells
of one mortal man (me)
into matter to be recycled
into raw materiel
for other organisms to feast upon.

Basic constituent cells
of **** sapien in question
would become necessary seeds
for some other manifestation
for plant or animal development.

Godaddy maggots sans fancy feast,
a best buy per this former
foo fighting beastie boy,
whose nihilistic outlook
promulgated within his in utero psyche.

Gestation as an embryonic fetus,
the potential live, googly eyed,
earth-linked, wannabe hotmail prodigy
harbored no oshkosh bug gosh
pinterest to remain
in the world wide web of bad company.

Hence, nothing could mollify measly
mumbling linkedin kibitzer,
albeit progressive matchless
who unwittingly opened
the red box of Pandora.

Molecular features
would assume novel combinations
thru said degradation of flesh,
yet improvisation of biology
would wield wasted corpse
that once epitomized an articulate,
civil, enumerate, glib, invertebrate,
kind male into novel marvels
of unpredictable genus and species.
i am buzzing....
first thing i remember when i left my home
to get married in Kauai
with E.
and i watched the Barbie movie today
and it was so philosphical i worked in images
and i was drawn to images
now i'm alone with music
and a little alcohol and some ****
and i'm buzzing
with a teasing headache that when you get
it right
becomes a headmake or a headmush
and i see R laying in bed depressed
and today did a Ken into Barbie
walking back home
walking back home
and as i got off at Mashiter's Hill
from the 103 bus to Chase Cross:
my little island
my little world my little Friday
and my little Robinson Crusoe:
i will always be alone in the end
and i'm preparing each and one of you
into the final judgement of memory
of people pockets
i was in New York for 24h
someone stopped me the Ace of 8s
stopped me in New York
the ***** Queen
spades spades
all i could sniff is Joseph walking behind Jesus
and i am looking at Joseph
because woman you can have a Jesus
but in my Trinity i find Joseph to be my savior
my father believes in Joseph
as my Grandfather believed in Joseph
and we didn't believe in Jesus
the Old Catholics of Poland...
i came home to my parents
and i might look like a Jesus
i was told
i smelt concretes in New York
among men
who let us say
Jesus is not man's savior
each man unto Solomon
Joseph Adam Joseph Noah and God
that cannot be the ordeal of Man
in Christ
Christ came down to explain women
and women adore him for that
but that never encouraged the man
if we are told to test oursevles before God
i was reading up on the story of
Dylan Thomas' wife
and how she got drunk and never wrote
poetry
and there was Sylvia Plath in New York
going mad and some ****** Ted Hughes
of a poet coming along
and you wonder
why she loves watching nature channels
about spiders and lions and dolphins
but when a cockroach
when a cockroach gets into the house
and there's Butters making watch
and first impression:
oh... just a moth...
but then upon second inquiry in the kitchen
butters implored once more:
Matthew... have another look...
Butters implored: look look!
a cockroach! have you ever seen a cockroach?
that's a moth... no... that was a moth...
crawling into the kitchen light...
Butters... that was a moth?!
Butters... hmm... hmm....

a return to just sitting there in the house
having organised it a little
having organised the ******* fridge
for starters... harder to find ice cream
just sitting there on my little island
the country lad has returned to the countryside
but no one said where
that countryside would be
getting lonely on the surf
with turtles
when everyone dies and i'm alone
there i will be with god
but before i can be alone with him
i must first love to the death the ones i love
and in the meantime
i promised myself
checking the hours before the flight
that i would be awake for 72 hours between
April 3 and April 5th...

  and i am: this one off of **** and alcohol
and homecoming
getting off the 103 bus
and what came past me?
two police motorcycles
two undercover black cars
speeding
and behind them
    one SUKA... a police van...

Barbie and KEn... stepping backwards
into my Barbie World
with poetry
but then i go into the Real World
and i come back married
and well i am married now
the ring is gleaming and i have the one
ring to rule them all:
all the other rings of life
which i know not of
but if the Sirens and Elves and Angels
brought us 3 realms
of heaven hell and earth
then these creatures believe in the 3 realms so
much that the concepts have been misunderstood
for there are those of the Camp of Hel and Cain
and there are those of the Camp of Abel and Abba...
as there is the Adam and YHWH HQ:
the language: alphabet
the names of birds and their onomatopoeias
and birds named in onomatopoeias...
i.e. if there is to be a revival of Hawaiian speach
then i will bend the knee
and say in the vowel to consonant ratio being so:
each bird name in an "onomatopoeia"...
like the cuckoo...
          krakra for crow...
    cheerp cheerp for sparrows...
ooh-ooh ooh-ooh: the woodland pigeon
the owl of the noon...

                   and so my return to the sober:
and the memory
of how i fixed the space and there was so much
fire in raising my voice
and so grinding horns against horns
and so much of *** in peacock
and peacock in ***
and so much premature just so when you squeeze
and i was Moses in the foliage
hacking through the Islam of **** Licking
mouth under the Niqab is missing teeth
having given so much head... so much head...

Wembley bound
i will not be missing Dua Lipa
under the Arch
but i will be at Wimbledon and missing Lana Del Rey
and that kinda *****
but i was there when i saw
something strange...
a Rome in London
then i saw New York
and i felt strange
with what came after Rome
in the architecture
and that's all that matters or i care for
but now i see no rising New York in London
or rather
i see little pockets of London
and Jerusalem
in New York...
i see these cities with the Confrontation
with the Birds: is the testament of Birds
the Testament of Birds...

then so slick the idea of my wife
reading this and the ghost comes
when she unscrews a blue pill my viagara of sleep
when the pillow and the screwdriver
are still plunging into imaginary feeding grounds
of ego
the ego without self
i think with the id
the ego staying silent librarian dj and train driver
i was thinking Jon Fosse
and no her self-help books and that's compliment
to take this night into late disco...
dancing around the ghost hand
but there is alcohol involved in keeping up this stamina
to just write: the anti-poetic sort of thing
i think io tried to tell you
that i am also someone before i met you...
tobacco is off the cards
but a sly more sip of the golden juices
is to stomach
how i bought i think i bought
in Jamaica, New York...
i was in Jamaica but i was also
in New York: weird city...
i was in New York but i was also in Jerusalem
i think i was also in Tehran
and i don't even remember
somewhere in the jungle
with purses and lost pigeons... clucks and gambits...
darki spark i photographed i was honing
in for the Chelsey Hotel
and the Ghostbusters near the Money Central...

it's as if i knew where i was walking it's as if
i was already in New York already
and i'm starting to believe
that i am a reincarnation without the authoritative
concepts of the reincarnation of self that spike in Visha
or whoever
i think i am a reincarnation like it's a resurrection
and for the resurrection to take place
if for the final judgement to come with some collective
consciousness miasma and myopia like
the miasma of hot *** new york kauai
like this is barbie ******* ***
and i'm just the beast furry
protecting something of a sacred space
give me another dopaine hit, race out R...
i feel like i'm a resurrection of a city
but unlike Rome built on Rome
with the ancient ruins with no ****** surprise
the *** was the same for the longest
time but how we have lost
what the others kept so
in drawing in darwin
and then the vicotrian jesters and jane austen
heavy hierarchy girl-whiff no ***
of English Acia... Acca Pacca:
Casio... no the Mojo Dojo Muchas Gracias House Kasa...
Forsa Fio= false tooth...
but now there's the morning sober
and tonight we are joking because
one off now i realise that i don't need much sleep
and that's healthy:
i needed to cure my insomnia
not using self
and pandemonium espace so lovely lucifer's
pearls and that's before you start reading
the Book of Enoch alongside reading the Book of Revelation
i would read the two books as the Reunification
of the New Testament being the Old Testament
and the Old Testament being the New Testament:
in light of the Golgotha mountain
that became the Desert: Holocaust...

O my god! O my god!
this be the verse! i know it!

the Mountain of Golgotha
and the Holocaust Desert! mein gott! ich bin
wyklęty!
how should i not also exclaim: first...
then you... now the same I exclaiming first and last
this Aum and Omega...
                     has it not become a mountain of ash
and i ask who this christ is to the christians
and i wonder i wonder out for my tribes
when i walked in New York and Hades
and there i was the minotaur
i became so ******
at Times Square
i was ganged up by 5 black guys
Hyenas...
who took from me $20 x 2 bucks
and when the other was giving me change
from a 10
i was honest to just show them my wallet
open and i felt i was being thieved from
but they signed some barcode music
score
and i was apparently giving money to the ghetto
kids
i don't know i haven't scanned
the QPR QR code QPR... blue stripes
maybe i'm so used to London that New York
i am seeing the other ancients the gothic
in London
so sooner though
but we are still talking the Ancient: the Life of the Essences...
we are living for over 5,000 years
in the shadow of the Essences...
the Ancient Romans, Ancient Hebrews,
Egyptians...
there is talk of the Darg Ages:
they were told through in reverse:
not in history:
it is told now: the Dark Ages have come now:
that if how people would fortell the future
which is now:
time-relativism in that time is like
a quantum cloud of electrons:
it is not linear nor cyclic nor is it
a linear-cyclic or a cyclone-line...
           and perhaps the body was allowed
to age to almost eternal
while the mind is in full flight of erosion...
that games and telling and tight
embraces of tools
and what was once even for those in the habitat
of the cog: the foundation spider
and the octopus: looking for gods in animaheads
from the eyes that have no sclera
and then the beings with sclera
pupils
that is us as humans:
we have the sclera... we have the iris
and we have the pupil...
animals do not have the sclera
that is how the brain is exposed to SLOW LIGHT...
sclera absorbs light slowly
like a mushroom
and that is why dreams are not frequent or on demand!

isn't it obvious or am i the next Copernicus
in seeing the orbit of the brain
in the Pupil the Iris and the Sclera:
and that is my key to the freedom from the last
step the supposed first in the psychologisms of the 20th
century
that the spine was first inclined
but the beast peered into the eye of the beast
and before seeing the form
but i am a monkey with the crown of a crocodile
and a mane of a lion and a lavava from the skins
of whales... a necklace of shark teeth...

my mind took a box
and called it ****
and phallus: ego supergo id and hyper Floyd Freud
Barber, Sir...
reminiscent of Mind and the Pupil
and the Mind and Iris
and then that plethora of the Sclera
of the Mind that
saw the Mountain of Glgotha
and the Desert of Holocauha: Holum...
             i'm seeing the time with pickpockets...
ego is so constrained to be exposed
to even exist with the blood in ink in words
like the non-rectifying
blotches spermatoid: crosswords... final banality:
the purpose of the poem
like a verb:fri-bree-ree-lay-tor:
the simpletons came with Jimmie Cobain
and the virtuoso of blinding lights
i think about the fireplace and the creep
of burning wood breaking knuckles
and promises:
i said sorry: anti-hero
but you don't want a pushover
you want someone to push you back
you want someone to be a verbal cage monster
oh you know me i can get on the bike
and peddle like mad
but come on who cares
but you are still making your **** torture
with me being what if not the next problem child
of a ***** donor
is that something what is it that would require
the mentality of a ***** donor
like that being purely *****
and that no other girl thinks of body
because i feel alien with so many people
having alientated their bodies
like the scythe hammer and biscuit...
bone with yeast: sprinkled on popcorn...

so just those evenings with Budders
tt... sitting on the armchair sleeping
muffin queen
the kid the R the whoop icecream my i think
that gollop dollop some grup
just anonymously in love
just trying to stay slim
by eating ice-cubes and i'm just wondering
if she knows what Bulimia might need me again
and i know i want to make it last and i will
reward myself
because most people don't think this is work
when i have done so much
so who cares let's face it Day-to-Day-Bread
the Civil Religion and the Day-Bible like
i want nothing forget
i don't know and how many lives were
filled but the Bible was once
but the Quran can't replicate
thinking
god it's so stupid Quran thinks its the Bible
at a time when so many people were illiterate
i think Islam will sooner become a part
of Hinduism eaten
eaten by a Hindu
before it becomes a dominant religion
it is a sinking religion
eaten by the Hindu Dajjal
and is clinging to post-Christianity
like a drowning man
reaching for razorblades instead
of cork pockets...
     Islam is being eaten by Hinduism
and it is trying to save itself
by bleeding all over the driftwood of the crucifix
but believe me:
as a man and when it comes
to the trinity: i believe in Joseph...
because i am the new anti-catholic
without the concept of admiring the Holy ******
i'd like the Anti-Rome church
to be somewhere in London
i believe in the Surrogate Father...
  anbd who isn't Joseph who is how does that
relate
i mean: so simple the answer: so growing: cancerous...
assured celebration and possibly 3h later
i know this might not be: be this:
oh i remember
the safety the candles were: being made:
how you don't want me to bark
but i would rather bark at you
than bark at the girl i will not bark at R
you can bark all you want at her...
i will not bark at R...
                we actually needed to know what
we were talking about...
i think you were talking sounds and i was
looking at images...

butters in the armchair
you on the computer playing roblox
and me and mum sitting eating popcorn
then talking religion
heated
drunk intelligent conversations
about god and alcohol
and that was contained arguments
we are passionate
we are having heated discussions
and that's how it works
i think it was nice to see your mum with a man
and see how a man argues...
i guess New York will be like a memory
of the first and last time i saw
Indiana Jones movies...
and how people still think the Nazis were
Magical people... psychotic:
unlike the American Hippies
and their reaction to the Nazis Psychotties...
the reality in the Mushroom:
Giant Shroom is my theory
against the current: Big Bang...

this celebration achtung achtung!
just thinking... objectively
i tihnk i passed the test:
when you will scold and make me feel like a c hild
i will return
but you passed the test
you were calm throughout
and you were
also me
and i asked for YHWH more than i cried
for Christ
because that's how letters match
they do not spell the magic Jesus Christ
wand: and none shall be corrupt...

    yet still the persistent this man
as provider:
sinkin' (g) ('):
the monstrosity:
in my mouth:
in every mouth:
water expands when freezing
so becomes ice
so i wonder without
quantum gravity
a step ahead:
what in the instance
of a hyper hot vacuum of space?!
the alt. universe
of hot vacuum
therefore space is constraining
constricting
space is finite
without god: the self universal...
beyond wondering AI consciousness-answers...
if AI is conscious...
it is a consciousness-answer-awareness...
but the creator intact:
we are not this man...
that... any man...
                    question-worthiness vs. answer-awareness...
Heidegger gave me this..
i didn't scold my surrogate daughter...
she has... a ******* door...
so it was me and 3 females...
1 male for 3 females...

           well you know: that you don't know.

— The End —