Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2013
Why Men Cry in the Bathroom

For so many reasons.
I will tell you the why.
I think you know,
Or perhaps, you think you know.

Men are always O.K.,
Even when not.

We expect the worse,
Accept the worse,
Nonetheless,
We are forever unprepared.

Wearily, we cry,
In the bathroom, in private,
Lest sighs slip by,
We be unmasked,
Early warring, strife signs warning.

Copious, tho we weep
Before the mirror confessor,
It is relief untethered,
Unbinding of the feet,
An uncounting
Of beaded rosaries,
Of freshly fallen hail stones,
Of night times terrors
By dawn's early edition's light,
and welcomed.

But look for the mute tear,
The eye-cornered drop,
*** tat, that never drops,
But never ceases formation and
Reforming, over and over again,
In a state of perpetuity of reconstitution,

The tippy tear of an iceberg revealing,
And I see you peeping, wondering,
What is beneath


Look for:
the torn worm-eaten edges of spirit,
thrift shop bought, extra worn,
grieving lines neath the eyes,
where the salt has evaporated,
discolored the skin.
worry lines,
under and above,
browed mapped, furrowed boundaries.
the laugh line saga,
where better days are stored,
recalled, as well as recanted,
publicly, privately.

Why just men?

I don't know,
Perhaps,
it is all I know.


Jan 6, 2013
your effusive and lengthy comments are each a poem in their own right.  

Tinkered with June 22, 2013
With a push from Bala,
A serial peeper, thank God!
The **** kids gaol



Once upon a time there was this kid named Brian Mandler who was 14 years

Of age and was sort of obsessed with figuring out a way to catch and reform

Really dangerous criminals.   When he explained how he’ll do it to his family,

They told him that they don’t want to hear it and they all leave the room and

Brian went to his room and got onto his computer and started to track

Down some dangerous criminals and as well as that he will watch Australia’s

Most wanted and unsolved mysteries to make sure he is up to date with the

Goings on and when he catches them he will give them a pill which puts

Them to sleep and it makes them dream that they are on TV and Brian

Can watch it to keep him informed on their goings on.

When he saw the first criminal who was named David Perton Brown who

Was a real evil child snatcher who loves to pray on vonerable kids who

Haven’t got good lives as well as robbing them  and leaving them to die

and then he’ll do about 180 on the freeway trying to **** families

On their way to their holiday destination and quite often he succeeded but

This time Brian got onto his computer and said that he wants to get David

And put him on a early morning childrens show called the Saturday Morning

Cartoon hour where he’ll meet people left, right and centre and most of those

People will be children and he’ll have guests who will give him heaps for the

Crimes that he did and also he’ll have a visit from the police every 4 Saturdays

To really check up on him but he had to make the kids unaware by posing to

Make sure that kid’s say no to drugs and lifts with strangers and that meant

That the host could try something outside.

As well as that Brian put him on a nightly music show because some of his

Victims are now teenagers who like music and Brian made him the sort of

Host that will constantly goof up a lot.  The program was called The Talent

Quest and he’ll be teamed up with 2 police officers who are making sure there

Is no funny stuff going on.

Brian planned to keep him in his little gaol for a long time till he starts to settle

Down a bit.

The next criminal is Joshua Tartwright who is a vicious modern day pirate who

Takes adults over 40 and holds them captive in his little boat and he has been

Doing this for about 12 years and Brian got onto his computer and told it

That he wants Joshua to on the pirates of the Carribean TV series and keep him there till he realises that he is no match for those pirates

And he doesn’t feel like kidnapping them anymore but this was hard to get him

To take the drug and Brian had to get to rough police officers to hold him down

And then force feed him till he his knocked completely out and then his life as

A television star started.   Joshua was excited about being on a pirate show and

He wanted to email all his friends but he was stuck in another world and also

He was the one the pirates wouldn’t leave alone and he felt weird and wanted

The drug to wear off but we all know that when it wears off it’s dinner time.

As he started the pirate show it was hard for him to be his own man because he

Was kidnapped straight away it was hard for him to understand what this

Dream meant and was trying to tell Brian that he wants his blood.

Brian jumped on the computer and said how about we keep him captive there

For 2 hours and then it would be dinner time and h’ll enjoy that.

Meanwhile Brian wasn’t scared one little bit and watched the television to

Catch another criminal and it was Mark Dellar who tried to make John the

Baptist (the religious fellow) look evil by coming into the Christian church and

Preaching that John the Baptist was evil and every thing that he did

John the Baptist was telling him to do it and the Christians were very

Upset and screamed so loudly as Mark stole money from everyone in

There and Brian got onto his computer and said that he wants to put

Mark in his gaol and make him a religious guru to be put onto Television

At 5 am every weekday morning as well as listen to good people’s

Prayer requests and he must help them as well.   The first request was a

Man who is terminally ill and there is no way he will get out of it and

This man yelled at him in the prayer request that he sent and Mark

Tried to tell him that he has nothing to worry about because God

Is on your side and Brian got onto his computer and made the walls

Cave in and knocked Mark out and the man just ran away saying

We won the first battle and Mark woke up and he had a cup of coffee

And a biscuit waiting for him and he was relieved but there were more

Strange cases in his dream and Brian is there to reform him.

Brian thought it was a good job he gave him as a Television preacher helping people get better than making people feel Worse which what he was doing..

Brian watched more of Australia’s most wanted and saw a group of

Violent and dangerous armed robbers who were knocking over 7

Eleven stores and rich people’s houses as well as stopping the

Families from going out and having fun and Brian had his little

Plan to get them in his little gaol.     He wanted to play them at their

Own game by pretending he was a rich powerful man because

He had more dangerous things than any robber like his booster

Shot in which Brian wanted then to be cops in televisions cop

Drama ‘cop department” in which they deal with dangerous criminals

Like them each day and Brian thought that they will reform if they

Knew the kind of trauma they were putting their victims through and Brian

Keeps them there forever if they don’t reform even if it eventually kills

Them so the crooks can’t escape because Brian is too powerful for

Any of them.

Brian sat their laughing at the armed robbers playing cops and at

One moment they were locked in a security vault which had a

Bomb in it which is set to explode in 20 minutes and Brian went

On the computer and said let the bomb go off and then they will

Be put back in their beds and we will have lunch for them before

We torture them some more and then Brian sat down and said

What a job well done but there are still heaps of dangerous criminals

He needs to catch yet

Brian turned on America’s most wanted and there was the Texan ******

Who preys upon women in their 20s by luring them into his panel van

And keeping them ******* in his back shed till they are killed and Brian

Said that he wants to catch the Texan ****** and start him on stint on

General hospital where he will play a young woman who is the target

Of a never ending ****.

The police took the drug off Brian and went straight to the Texan rapists

House to give him the drug and at first he wondered why he needed to

Take these drugs because he wasn’t mental he said and there is nothing

Wrong with him and he refused to take them and tried to escape and

Then Brian got onto his computer to make him too slow to get away and

Brian was happy to get him onto General hospital and make the old ladies

Very happy.

When he first fell asleep there was a ****** at the end of his bed and wanted

To get within his sheets and really let him have it and the Texan ****** was

Screaming so loud stuff like” Let me go I’m a man not a woman but this

****** just heard the innocent lady scream and there was no way that he

Was to escape and Brian was laughing like crazy at the Texan rapists bad ordeal

And went onto the computer and said I want him to be attacked every day

To understand what it was like for his victims and they started to employ

People to play the rapists straight away and Brian was happy to see that this

Plan of his is working very well.

Brian was the envy of all his friends but noone apart from his best friend

Thomas knew about it because of the closeness of their friendship,

Brian’s secret was safe with him.

Brian and Thomas went to the park to have a drink under the tree

Together and talked about their lives and Brian isn’t aloud to talk about

His gaol life just in case anyone was around and at the moment noone

Could suspect anything.

After Brian had a break he watched more of Australia’s most wanted and

Saw there was a man wanted for bank fraud who is on the run in Brisbane

And Brian wanted to track him down and give him the drug that puts

Him in his little gaol where Brian will put him on as victim of fraud who

Was on Brian’s fake edition of 60 minutes until he realises that what

He did is wrong and that he will never do it again and when the police

Arrived at his house to give him Brian’s magical reforming drug he put

Up a fight and started to flee away on foot down the street that he lives

In with some police following him and others contacting Brian to use his

Powers to make him slower and catch him and give the drug to him and

Put the fraud man who doesn’t tell people his name into his little gaol and

When they did Brian was so happy of all the crooks he caught without

A worry in the world , Brian watched the episode of 60 minutes and

Really enjoyed him suffering because of all the people he made suffer

He needs a taste of his own medicine.

They asked him what is it like to be a victim of fraud and do you think you will

Ever see that kind of money again and he told them that he wants the money he

Stole so he could go to the Bahamas and cruise around looking for chicks and

Brian went straight to the computer and said keep ribbing him because it’s fun to

Make this guy suffer because what he did was terrible so rib something fierce.

Brian watched this music show and He was happy that the young people who were at the music festival were

Really letting him have it and this really entertained Brian a lot and

Then he switched it over to the Talent quest where our criminal was being

Told he was talentless and was upset with the whole outcome of it all, he

Threatened to jump off the top building and be dead forever and Brian

Went onto the computer and said that there is no way that he will die if he

Jumps off the roof to the ground, in fact he will just wake up and a guard will

Be there to keep an eye on him and now he was aware of the fact that noone

Could escape from Brian’s little gaol.

The Saturday morning cartoon show went very well with the child snatcher

Being teased by 2 11 year old girls and one 7 year old boy  and he nearly lost it and Brian was so happy that they were teasing him.  Then he told the kids that

He will **** them all and Brian went onto the computer and said don’t try any

Funny stuff because there is no escape for you now fella,and then he put

one of the cartoons which was our modern day pirate who was being tortured by Blackbeard and Brian was happy because this man needed to know why he is

in this little gaol of Brian’s, and then he went onto his computer and said to

Blackbeard too never let him get free because what he was doing to these

Adults was a very bad thing and then he went back to his chair and laughed at

Blackbeard the pirate torturing this modern day pirate like a lamb to the

Slaughter.

Blackbeard also made to walk the plank and Threatened to cut his head off

Agreed that it could be fun to see him suffer.   Like what it was like for him

In the end of his life and the pirate said “please don’t **** me please don’t ****

Me I am a modern pirate and in days to come pirates have a lot of vegeance

Than in these times” and Brian went to the computer and told them to

Chop his head off once and then keep trying to do it so he could suffer

And that would be heaps of fun Brian thought.

Brian turned it over to general hospital where his Texan ****** was screaming

In the back boot of a car and noone could hear him except for Brian who was

Watching him and he got up and wrote on the computer “He wants them to

Feed his body to the sharks at 11.59 am so he could be ready for lunch.

He switched the TV over to the cop show where our armed robbers thought they are in the perfect job because there were no crimes around so they just sat down

And relaxed and Brian wasn’t happy and went to this computer and told

Everybody to put on a few situations to make them really suffer like they

Did to the police on Earth and then suddenly there was a call on the 000

Saying there was a mother and her 13 year old son locked in their panic

Room while the robbers were having a field day robbing the place

and the cops went straight there only to find out that this was their first

test, because when the reached them the crooks turned on them and

left the mother and 13 year old son in the panic room and Brian went

to his computer and said I want these so-called policeman to try to save the

mother and son instead of trying to **** the police and if they don’t they will

flunk the test.  So one of the policemen went into the house and tried to

save the mother and son while the other two were having a gunfight and the

policeman who was in the house saving the victims couldn’t get the door

opened and screamed for his mates to help him but they were too busy

having a gunfight in the front lawn with the neighbours scared for each others

safety, and Brian went to his computer and said give these ****** gunfighters

a wake up pill because they don’t seem to realise what is really important

here and that is saving the victims and not killing the cops like cowboys

and Indians you ****** fools.

While all the caught prisoners eating their meals Brian watched Australia’s most

Wanted to try to catch some more crooks and they told him about the

Charnwood child snatcher who lived in “as the name suggests” Charnwood

And he took street kids off the streets and he would tell them that he has the

Perfect home for them and as a matter of fact he would tie the kids up

And when they die of starvation or dehydration he would take them out

To the cow paddock and let the cows pick at them and When Brian heard

The details he got straight up to his computer and said that he wants to

Put the Charnwood child snatcher on a new show called Sugary who is

A very witty and smart seal who is befriended by this 8 year old boy who

Is the Charnwood child snatcher because Brian wanted to teach him

Not to destroy the family’s lives, like he did when he kidnapped their

Children from them.

Brian sat down and watched the first episode and they had this evil

Genous who wanted to take the seal and sell him for seal meat and

The boy was so determined to stop this crook he would stay out and

Guard Sugary all night and hours and hours went by and noone turned

Up and the boy was determined not to leave because Sugary was his

Favourite pet.

When the crooks got there the boy jumped up and said” If you want

Sugary you have to take me as well” and the men said “Whatever”

And shoved the kid in a bag with the attempt the **** him and then

**** Sugary soon after and Brian got up to his computer, don’t let them

Be killed, just keep him ******* till the end when the parents come to save

Them and make sure that sugary is safe as well.

Then Brian sat down and saw The father rescue the boy and Sugary from

This evil genious and the evil genious said I will get you next time boy

Next time heh heh heh and then you won’t escape from that.

The Charnwood child snatcher woke up and found himself locked in a room

And he looked outside and a lady has a cup of coffee for him and he took

The coffee and thanked the lady and sat down until it was time to take his

Reforming pill.

Brian was happy because the Charnwood child snatcher was forced to learn

The perfect family bond between parents and children.

About 5 hours later than that Brian sat down and watched the 6 o clock news

And they informed everybody with Christmas approaching there was man

Who escaped from prison who is a good santa claus impersonator and every

Christmas he would go to Santa School and pass the test and then he’ll be

Assigned to working in one of the shopping malls and that doesn’t sound

Like such a crime and Brian was thinking this is a happy story until he heard

The next bit where he will get the kids to put their name and address so he

Knows where to go on Christmas eve and then he studies when the kids

Will be alone in the house and comes to their homes
onlylovepoetry Jul 2023
how do you paint water, or clouds?

I could read poetry for the brief,
of my of remaining life, however brief,
and never be satiated, of love, and streams of water,
never stilled, always running in patterns that exist,
but for milliseconds, admired by clouds born in, of,
a moment of re-formation that is perpetuity long:
unending shape shifting, like the freedom of flowing water
currents, forming, reforming and unthinkable, nay,
inconceivable that human eyes or their spoken words
could capture their shiny white foamy essence

But of love, that we can do, paint, design, recreate its
endless loops of undulations, like the radiating circularity
of a pebble dropped gently to its burial sight in a quiet pond.

Humans know, understand and excel at clasping and grasping
at the synapsing of human cells from differing bodies: the
exogenous erogenous of human touch that like the clouds
and the water, who could paint that, who capable of capturing
said sensations that wrack and enliven the body with invisible
interior chemical reactions. I cannot. Thankfully better men and women have treatised  their entreaties to the powers of the universe and been rewarded with the skilled delicacy of weaving human tapestries, the milliseconds of connectivity, eclectic and electrifying of different currents and differing amperage’s forming and reforming like water moving, just  like the clouds changing in response to the externalities of wind and gravity and all the forces of nature that encourage us to study and stare at these flows, hoping to entrance them into standing still for but a moment, and instead, mesmerizing us into standing motionless for hours in awe of their freedom.

Love’s undulations too mesmerizing, and freezing us into
place, or alternatively caucus to run endlessly arms extending,
flying though not airborne , rocketing us upwards while feet never budging, but finding good wards, masterful metaphors to recreate and thus to share the fabulous mystery of this thing we know as love.


2:58AM
Friday
jul 22 (jewel 22) of the 23rd year of the 21st Century.


O.L.P.
inspired by the police of Oxford, Lewis and Hathaway
No more of talk where God or Angel guest
With Man, as with his friend, familiar us’d,
To sit indulgent, and with him partake
Rural repast; permitting him the while
Venial discourse unblam’d. I now must change
Those notes to tragick; foul distrust, and breach
Disloyal on the part of Man, revolt,
And disobedience: on the part of Heaven
Now alienated, distance and distaste,
Anger and just rebuke, and judgement given,
That brought into this world a world of woe,
Sin and her shadow Death, and Misery
Death’s harbinger: Sad talk!yet argument
Not less but more heroick than the wrath
Of stern Achilles on his foe pursued
Thrice fugitive about Troy wall; or rage
Of Turnus for Lavinia disespous’d;
Or Neptune’s ire, or Juno’s, that so long
Perplexed the Greek, and Cytherea’s son:                        

If answerable style I can obtain
Of my celestial patroness, who deigns
Her nightly visitation unimplor’d,
And dictates to me slumbering; or inspires
Easy my unpremeditated verse:
Since first this subject for heroick song
Pleas’d me long choosing, and beginning late;
Not sedulous by nature to indite
Wars, hitherto the only argument
Heroick deem’d chief mastery to dissect
With long and tedious havock fabled knights
In battles feign’d; the better fortitude
Of patience and heroick martyrdom
Unsung; or to describe races and games,
Or tilting furniture, imblazon’d shields,
Impresses quaint, caparisons and steeds,
Bases and tinsel trappings, gorgeous knights
At joust and tournament; then marshall’d feast
Serv’d up in hall with sewers and seneshals;
The skill of artifice or office mean,
Not that which justly gives heroick name
To person, or to poem.  Me, of these
Nor skill’d nor studious, higher argument
Remains; sufficient of itself to raise
That name, unless an age too late, or cold
Climate, or years, damp my intended wing
Depress’d; and much they may, if all be mine,
Not hers, who brings it nightly to my ear.
The sun was sunk, and after him the star
Of Hesperus, whose office is to bring
Twilight upon the earth, short arbiter
“twixt day and night, and now from end to end
Night’s hemisphere had veil’d the horizon round:
When satan, who late fled before the threats
Of Gabriel out of Eden, now improv’d
In meditated fraud and malice, bent
On Man’s destruction, maugre what might hap
Of heavier on himself, fearless returned
From compassing the earth; cautious of day,
Since Uriel, regent of the sun, descried
His entrance, and foreworned the Cherubim
That kept their watch; thence full of anguish driven,
The space of seven continued nights he rode
With darkness; thrice the equinoctial line
He circled; four times crossed the car of night
From pole to pole, traversing each colure;
On the eighth returned; and, on the coast averse
From entrance or Cherubick watch, by stealth
Found unsuspected way.  There was a place,
Now not, though sin, not time, first wrought the change,
Where Tigris, at the foot of Paradise,
Into a gulf shot under ground, till part
Rose up a fountain by the tree of life:
In with the river sunk, and with it rose
Satan, involved in rising mist; then sought
Where to lie hid; sea he had searched, and land,
From Eden over Pontus and the pool
Maeotis, up beyond the river Ob;
Downward as far antarctick; and in length,
West from Orontes to the ocean barred
At Darien ; thence to the land where flows
Ganges and Indus: Thus the orb he roamed
With narrow search; and with inspection deep
Considered every creature, which of all
Most opportune might serve his wiles; and found
The Serpent subtlest beast of all the field.
Him after long debate, irresolute
Of thoughts revolved, his final sentence chose
Fit vessel, fittest imp of fraud, in whom
To enter, and his dark suggestions hide
From sharpest sight: for, in the wily snake
Whatever sleights, none would suspicious mark,
As from his wit and native subtlety
Proceeding; which, in other beasts observed,
Doubt might beget of diabolick power
Active within, beyond the sense of brute.
Thus he resolved, but first from inward grief
His bursting passion into plaints thus poured.
More justly, seat worthier of Gods, as built
With second thoughts, reforming what was old!
O Earth, how like to Heaven, if not preferred
For what God, after better, worse would build?
Terrestrial Heaven, danced round by other Heavens
That shine, yet bear their bright officious lamps,
Light above light, for thee alone, as seems,
In thee concentring all their precious beams
Of sacred influence!  As God in Heaven
Is center, yet extends to all; so thou,
Centring, receivest from all those orbs: in thee,
Not in themselves, all their known virtue appears
Productive in herb, plant, and nobler birth
Of creatures animate with gradual life
Of growth, sense, reason, all summed up in Man.
With what delight could I have walked thee round,
If I could joy in aught, sweet interchange
Of hill, and valley, rivers, woods, and plains,
Now land, now sea and shores with forest crowned,
Rocks, dens, and caves!  But I in none of these
Find place or refuge; and the more I see
Pleasures about me, so much more I feel
Torment within me, as from the hateful siege
Of contraries: all good to me becomes
Bane, and in Heaven much worse would be my state.
But neither here seek I, no nor in Heaven
To dwell, unless by mastering Heaven’s Supreme;
Nor hope to be myself less miserable
By what I seek, but others to make such
As I, though thereby worse to me redound:
For only in destroying I find ease
To my relentless thoughts; and, him destroyed,
Or won to what may work his utter loss,
For whom all this was made, all this will soon
Follow, as to him linked in weal or woe;
In woe then; that destruction wide may range:
To me shall be the glory sole among
The infernal Powers, in one day to have marred
What he, Almighty styled, six nights and days
Continued making; and who knows how long
Before had been contriving? though perhaps
Not longer than since I, in one night, freed
From servitude inglorious well nigh half
The angelick name, and thinner left the throng
Of his adorers: He, to be avenged,
And to repair his numbers thus impaired,
Whether such virtue spent of old now failed
More Angels to create, if they at least
Are his created, or, to spite us more,
Determined to advance into our room
A creature formed of earth, and him endow,
Exalted from so base original,
With heavenly spoils, our spoils: What he decreed,
He effected; Man he made, and for him built
Magnificent this world, and earth his seat,
Him lord pronounced; and, O indignity!
Subjected to his service angel-wings,
And flaming ministers to watch and tend
Their earthly charge: Of these the vigilance
I dread; and, to elude, thus wrapt in mist
Of midnight vapour glide obscure, and pry
In every bush and brake, where hap may find
The serpent sleeping; in whose mazy folds
To hide me, and the dark intent I bring.
O foul descent! that I, who erst contended
With Gods to sit the highest, am now constrained
Into a beast; and, mixed with ******* slime,
This essence to incarnate and imbrute,
That to the highth of Deity aspired!
But what will not ambition and revenge
Descend to?  Who aspires, must down as low
As high he soared; obnoxious, first or last,
To basest things.  Revenge, at first though sweet,
Bitter ere long, back on itself recoils:
Let it; I reck not, so it light well aimed,
Since higher I fall short, on him who next
Provokes my envy, this new favourite
Of Heaven, this man of clay, son of despite,
Whom, us the more to spite, his Maker raised
From dust: Spite then with spite is best repaid.
So saying, through each thicket dank or dry,
Like a black mist low-creeping, he held on
His midnight-search, where soonest he might find
The serpent; him fast-sleeping soon he found
In labyrinth of many a round self-rolled,
His head the midst, well stored with subtile wiles:
Not yet in horrid shade or dismal den,
Nor nocent yet; but, on the grassy herb,
Fearless unfeared he slept: in at his mouth
The Devil entered; and his brutal sense,
In heart or head, possessing, soon inspired
With act intelligential; but his sleep
Disturbed not, waiting close the approach of morn.
Now, when as sacred light began to dawn
In Eden on the humid flowers, that breathed
Their morning incense, when all things, that breathe,
From the Earth’s great altar send up silent praise
To the Creator, and his nostrils fill
With grateful smell, forth came the human pair,
And joined their vocal worship to the quire
Of creatures wanting voice; that done, partake
The season prime for sweetest scents and airs:
Then commune, how that day they best may ply
Their growing work: for much their work out-grew
The hands’ dispatch of two gardening so wide,
And Eve first to her husband thus began.
Adam, well may we labour still to dress
This garden, still to tend plant, herb, and flower,
Our pleasant task enjoined; but, till more hands
Aid us, the work under our labour grows,
Luxurious by restraint; what we by day
Lop overgrown, or prune, or prop, or bind,
One night or two with wanton growth derides
Tending to wild.  Thou therefore now advise,
Or bear what to my mind first thoughts present:
Let us divide our labours; thou, where choice
Leads thee, or where most needs, whether to wind
The woodbine round this arbour, or direct
The clasping ivy where to climb; while I,
In yonder spring of roses intermixed
With myrtle, find what to redress till noon:
For, while so near each other thus all day
Our task we choose, what wonder if so near
Looks intervene and smiles, or object new
Casual discourse draw on; which intermits
Our day’s work, brought to little, though begun
Early, and the hour of supper comes unearned?
To whom mild answer Adam thus returned.
Sole Eve, associate sole, to me beyond
Compare above all living creatures dear!
Well hast thou motioned, well thy thoughts employed,
How we might best fulfil the work which here
God hath assigned us; nor of me shalt pass
Unpraised: for nothing lovelier can be found
In woman, than to study houshold good,
And good works in her husband to promote.
Yet not so strictly hath our Lord imposed
Labour, as to debar us when we need
Refreshment, whether food, or talk between,
Food of the mind, or this sweet *******
Of looks and smiles; for smiles from reason flow,
To brute denied, and are of love the food;
Love, not the lowest end of human life.
For not to irksome toil, but to delight,
He made us, and delight to reason joined.
These paths and bowers doubt not but our joint hands
Will keep from wilderness with ease, as wide
As we need walk, till younger hands ere long
Assist us; But, if much converse perhaps
Thee satiate, to short absence I could yield:
For solitude sometimes is best society,
And short retirement urges sweet return.
But other doubt possesses me, lest harm
Befall thee severed from me; for thou knowest
What hath been warned us, what malicious foe
Envying our happiness, and of his own
Despairing, seeks to work us woe and shame
By sly assault; and somewhere nigh at hand
Watches, no doubt, with greedy hope to find
His wish and best advantage, us asunder;
Hopeless to circumvent us joined, where each
To other speedy aid might lend at need:
Whether his first design be to withdraw
Our fealty from God, or to disturb
Conjugal love, than which perhaps no bliss
Enjoyed by us excites his envy more;
Or this, or worse, leave not the faithful side
That gave thee being, still shades thee, and protects.
The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks,
Safest and seemliest by her husband stays,
Who guards her, or with her the worst endures.
To whom the ****** majesty of Eve,
As one who loves, and some unkindness meets,
With sweet austere composure thus replied.
Offspring of Heaven and Earth, and all Earth’s Lord!
That such an enemy we have, who seeks
Our ruin, both by thee informed I learn,
And from the parting Angel over-heard,
As in a shady nook I stood behind,
Just then returned at shut of evening flowers.
But, that thou shouldst my firmness therefore doubt
To God or thee, because we have a foe
May tempt it, I expected not to hear.
His violence thou fearest not, being such
As we, not capable of death or pain,
Can either not receive, or can repel.
His fraud is then thy fear; which plain infers
Thy equal fear, that my firm faith and love
Can by his fraud be shaken or seduced;
Thoughts, which how found they harbour in thy breast,
Adam, mis-thought of her to thee so dear?
To whom with healing words Adam replied.
Daughter of God and Man, immortal Eve!
For such thou art; from sin and blame entire:
Not diffident of thee do I dissuade
Thy absence from my sight, but to avoid
The attempt itself, intended by our foe.
For he who tempts, though in vain, at least asperses
The tempted with dishonour foul; supposed
Not incorruptible of faith, not proof
Against temptation: Thou thyself with scorn
And anger wouldst resent the offered wrong,
Though ineffectual found: misdeem not then,
If such affront I labour to avert
From thee alone, which on us both at once
The enemy, though bold, will hardly dare;
Or daring, first on me the assault shall light.
Nor thou his malice and false guile contemn;
Subtle he needs must be, who could ******
Angels; nor think superfluous other’s aid.
I, from the influence of thy looks, receive
Access in every virtue; in thy sight
More wise, more watchful, stronger, if need were
Of outward strength; while shame, thou looking on,
Shame to be overcome or over-reached,
Would utmost vigour raise, and raised unite.
Why shouldst not thou like sense within thee feel
When I am present, and thy trial choose
With me, best witness of thy virtue tried?
So spake domestick Adam in his care
And matrimonial love; but Eve, who thought
Less attributed to her faith sincere,
Thus her reply with accent sweet renewed.
If this be our condition, thus to dwell
In narrow circuit straitened by a foe,
Subtle or violent, we not endued
Single with like defence, wherever met;
How are we happy, still in fear of harm?
But harm precedes not sin: only our foe,
Tempting, affronts us with his foul esteem
Of our integrity: his foul esteem
Sticks no dishonour on our front, but turns
Foul on himself; then wherefore shunned or feared
By us? who rather double honour gain
From his surmise proved false; find peace within,
Favour from Heaven, our witness, from the event.
And what is faith, love, virtue, unassayed
Alone, without exteriour help sustained?
Let us not then suspect our happy state
Left so imperfect by the Maker wise,
As not secure to single or combined.
Frail is our happiness, if this be so,
And Eden were no Eden, thus exposed.
To whom thus Adam fervently replied.
O Woman, best are all things as the will
Of God ordained them: His creating hand
Nothing imperfect or deficient left
Of all that he created, much less Man,
Or aught that might his happy state secure,
Secure from outward force; within himself
The danger lies, yet lies within his power:
Against his will he can receive no harm.
But God left free the will; for what obeys
Reason, is free; and Reason he made right,
But bid her well be ware, and still *****;
Lest, by some fair-appearing good surprised,
She dictate false; and mis-inform the will
To do what God expressly hath forbid.
Not then mistrust, but tender love, enjoins,
That I should mind thee oft; and mind thou me.
Firm we subsist, yet possible to swerve;
Since Reason not impossibly may meet
Some specious object by the foe suborned,
And fall into deception unaware,
Not keeping strictest watch, as she was warned.
Seek not temptation then, which to avoid
Were better, and most likely if from me
Thou sever not: Trial will come unsought.
Wouldst thou approve thy constancy, approve
First thy obedience; the other who can know,
Not seeing thee attempted, who attest?
But, if thou think, trial unsought may find
Us both securer than thus warned thou seemest,
Go; for thy stay, not fre
Michael R Burch Jan 2022
This is my modern English translation of Paul Valéry's poem “Le cimetière marin” (“The graveyard by the sea”). Valéry was buried in the seaside cemetery evoked in his best-known poem. From the vantage of the cemetery, the tombs seemed to “support” a sea-ceiling dotted with white sails. Valéry begins and ends his poem with this image ...

Excerpts from “Le cimetière marin” (“The graveyard by the sea”)
from Charmes ou poèmes (1922)
by Paul Valéry
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Do not, O my soul, aspire to immortal life, but exhaust what is possible.
—Pindar, Pythian Ode 3

1.
This tranquil ceiling, where white doves are sailing,
stands propped between tall pines and foundational tombs,
as the noonday sun composes, with its flames,
sea-waves forever forming and reforming ...
O, what a boon, when some lapsed thought expires,
to reflect on the placid face of Eternity!

5.
As a pear dissolves in the act of being eaten,
transformed, through sudden absence, to delight
relinquishing its shape within our mouths,
even so, I breathe in vapors I’ll become,
as the sea rejoices and its shores enlarge,
fed by lost souls devoured; more are rumored.

6.
Beautiful sky, my true-blue sky, ’tis I
who alters! Pride and indolence possessed me,
yet, somehow, I possessed real potency ...
But now I yield to your ephemeral vapors
as my shadow steals through stations of the dead;
its delicate silhouette crook-*******, “Forward!”

8.
... My soul still awaits reports of its nothingness ...

9.
... What corpse compels me forward, to no end?
What empty skull commends these strange bone-heaps?
A star broods over everything I lost ...

10.
... Here where so much antique marble
shudders over so many shadows,
the faithful sea slumbers ...

11.
... Watchful dog ...
Keep far from these peaceful tombs
the prudent doves, all impossible dreams,
the angels’ curious eyes ...

12.
... The brittle insect scratches out existence ...
... Life is enlarged by its lust for absence ...
... The bitterness of death is sweet and the mind clarified.

13.
... The dead do well here, secured here in this earth ...
... I am what mutates secretly in you ...

14.
I alone can express your apprehensions!
My penitence, my doubts, my limitations,
are fatal flaws in your exquisite diamond ...
But here in their marble-encumbered infinite night
a formless people sleeping at the roots of trees
have slowly adopted your cause ...

15.
... Where, now, are the kindly words of the loving dead? ...
... Now grubs consume, where tears were once composed ...

16.
... Everything dies, returns to earth, gets recycled ...

17.
And what of you, great Soul, do you still dream
there’s something truer than these deceitful colors:
each flash of golden surf on eyes of flesh?
Will you still sing, when you’re as light as air?
Everything perishes and has no presence!
I am not immune; Divine Impatience dies!

18.
Emaciate consolation, Immortality,
grotesquely clothed in your black and gold habit,
transfiguring death into some Madonna’s breast,
your pious ruse and cultivated lie:
who does not know and who does not reject
your empty skull and pandemonic laughter?

24.
The wind is rising! ... We must yet strive to live!
The immense sky opens and closes my book!
Waves surge through shell-shocked rocks, reeking spray!
O, fly, fly away, my sun-bedazzled pages!
Break, breakers! Break joyfully as you threaten to shatter
this tranquil ceiling where white doves are sailing!

*

“Le vent se lève! . . . il faut tenter de vivre!
L'air immense ouvre et referme mon livre,
La vague en poudre ose jaillir des rocs!
Envolez-vous, pages tout éblouies!
Rompez, vagues! Rompez d'eaux réjouies
Ce toit tranquille où picoraient des focs!”



PAUL VALERY TRANSLATION: “SECRET ODE”

“Secret Ode” is a poem by the French poet Paul Valéry about collapsing after a vigorous dance, watching the sun set, and seeing the immensity of the night sky as the stars begin to appear.

Ode secrète (“Secret Ode”)
by Paul Valéry
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The fall so exquisite, the ending so soft,
the struggle’s abandonment so delightful:
depositing the glistening body
on a bed of moss, after the dance!

Who has ever seen such a glow
illuminate a triumph
as these sun-brightened beads
crowning a sweat-drenched forehead!

Here, touched by the dusk's last light,
this body that achieved so much
by dancing and outdoing Hercules
now mimics the drooping rose-clumps!

Sleep then, our all-conquering hero,
come so soon to this tragic end,
for now the many-headed Hydra
reveals its Infiniteness …

Behold what Bull, what Bear, what Hound,
what Visions of limitless Conquests
beyond the boundaries of Time
the soul imposes on formless Space!

This is the supreme end, this glittering Light
beyond the control of mere monsters and gods,
as it gloriously reveals
the matchless immensity of the heavens!

This is Paul Valery’s bio from the Academy of American Poets:

Paul Valéry
(1871–1945)

Poet, essayist, and thinker Paul Ambroise Valéry was born in the Mediterranean town of Séte, France, on October 30, 1871. He attended the lycée at Montpellier and studied law at the University of Montpellier. Valéry left school early to move to Paris and pursue a life as a poet. In Paris, he was a regular member of Stéphane Mallarmé's Tuesday evening salons. It was at this time that he began to publish poems in avant-garde journals.

In 1892, while visiting relatives in Genoa, Valéry underwent a stark personal transformation. During a violent thunderstorm, he determined that he must free himself "at no matter what cost, from those falsehoods: literature and sentiment." He devoted the next twenty years to studying mathematics, philosophy, and language. From 1892 until 1912, he wrote no poetry. He did begin, however, to keep his ideas and notes in a series of journals, which were published in twenty-nine volumes in 1945. He also wrote essays and the book "La Soirée avec M. *****" ("The Evening with Monsieur *****," 1896).

Valéry supported himself during this period first with a job in the War Department, and then as a secretary at the Havas newspaper agency. This job required him to work only a few hours per day, and he spent the rest of his time pursuing his own ideas. He married Jeannie Gobillard in 1900, and they had one son and one daughter. In 1912 Andre Gide persuaded Valéry to collect and revise his earlier poems. In 1917 Valéry published "La Jeune Parque" ("The Young Fate"), a dramatic monologue of over five-hundred lines, and in 1920 he published "Album de vers anciens," 1890-1920 ("Album of Old Verses"). His second collection of poetry, "Charmes" ("Charms") appeared in 1922. Despite tremendous critical and popular acclaim, Valéry again put aside writing poetry. In 1925 he was elected to the Académe Francaise. He spent the remaining twenty years of his life on frequent lecture tours in and out of France, and he wrote numerous essays on poetry, painting, and dance. Paul Valéry died in Paris in July of 1945 and was given a state funeral.
Along with Paul Verlaine and Stéphane Mallarmé, Valéry is considered one the most important Symbolist writers. His highly self-conscious and philosophical style can also been seen to influence later English-language writers such T. S. Eliot and John Ashbery . His work as a critic and theorist of language was important to many of the structuralist critics of the 1960s and 1970s.

#VALERY #MRB-VALERY #MRBVALERY

Keywords/Tags: Paul Valery, French poem, English translation, sea, seaside, cemetery, grave, graves, graveyard, death, sail, sails, doves, ceiling, soul, souls, dance, sun, sunset, dusk, night, stars, infinity
Travis Barefoot Aug 2011
Rising
Swelling
Building
Forming
Force.

Pulsating
Pushing
Frothi­ng
Seething
Force.

Cresting
Peaking
Curving
Gaining
Force

Casca­ding
Pounding
Crushing
Losing
Force

Retreating
Reforming
Endless­ly
Rebuilding
Force
I remember one night when the surf was just too much for me to watch. I kept waiting for the waves to stop, for someone to "turn it off", but no one would listen. It kept coming and coming and coming and...
captured in the psych ward

how to reform an evil hooligan



you see harry bernstine is a hooligan who is always mucking around

trying to kidnap people from their family units and send them down

deep in his dungeon below his house, and harry is best known to destroy

human lives, so much in fact, he was risking going to gaol, and pumped

full of drugs, so it wouldn’t happen very much into the future, the police say

that harry is a rotten hooligan, and isn’t mentally ill, and should be locked away

to rot in a prison cell, but ron wanted to reform harry in his HDU, and placed on medication

and he took this the board and the they argued that harry was a dangerous criminal

and the mentally ill, need protection from him, and besides which harry refuses to admit

he is mental, even if by saying he is mental, could reduce his sentence, ron said, there

is nothing wrong with admitting you have a mentally ill, there are a lot of famous people who have

a mental illness.and harry said, ‘good for them’, i am not mentally ill, i am a dangerous hooligan

who is taking revenge on the world, and if anyone like you, gets in my way, i will blow you down, to next week, ok

and ron laughed and said, ‘what from’ from in here, you must be joking and harry said, yeah, i will be nice

to everyone and take my medication, but the second you let me out, i will turn back into a hooligan again, ok

so, ron, stop your little do gooder attitude, it doesn’t work for me, and ron gave harry a shot of ****** to settle him

down and harry fell asleep and ron walked away worried that harry was just stringing them along and the nurses told

ron, to pay no attention to him, he is just a ,man with a lot of problems and ron said, we need to make sure we give him his medication

because i still think we can reform this guy.  ron gave out the dinners and harry hated his and yelled for 15 minutes and

then ron gave the evening medication including harry’s and clocked off, and retired to his couch and had leftovers

and fell asleep in from of the box.

the next morning, ron went to his usual cafe for breakfast and coffee, and when ron arrived at the HDU, he saw harry

was yelling at the nurses for 5 hours straight, saying, i can never be reformed, you see i am a hooligan who is taking

revenge on these mental health nurses and ron got a valiumj and harry said, don’t poison me with your lethal dose of nice pills

you see, i want to rob a few banks and kidnap many people especially children, yeah, i will have you quacks really concerned

because dudes, nobody helped my brother, you see my brother was shot in broad daylight, by some supposingly law abiding cop

and that nice pill, killed my brother, and it will **** me if your not careful, so stop trying to fix me up like your car, and leave me

the **** alone, ok, and ron couldn’t help trying to know more about his brother, and harry said, none of your business, so get out

of my face ya fucken dogooder and ron went back to his office to figure out a way to help harry, and  learn what illness he has got.

ron said, maybe harry has terretz syndrome, you see his good one minute and bad the other, but when ron was going to ask harry

about it, harry said, mate, it really is none of your business, and then said, mate, i told you i was a hooligan who doesn’t want to be reformed

and ron said, why don’t you want me to help, because we are treating you well here, as opposed to the prison where you are treated

like an animal, do you really want that, harry said, not if i don’t get caught.

ron said, mate, you have been caught, and it’s here being reformed to be a person, or gaol where you are treated like an animal, ok.

harry said, i told you my plan, i’ll be good and take my medication and eventually you let me out, so i can do it again, ok.

and ron said, yeah, and you will end up in here bypassing here and be placed in gaol, to be treated like an animal, would you

like that ands harry said, i got caught this time and you won’t5 get me the next time, i will be devious and cunning, and ron said

take your pick, but ya know if you keep talking like this, there will be no next time for you, because you will be confined to your room

for weeks and maybe years, ok, and this got harry angry, saying how then **** is that supposed to help me, ya fucken little **** and

ron said i was merely stating a fact putting it in black and whigte for you, and then walked away to get the lunches ready for the HDU,

and as he brought it out, charlie chaplin asked, how is our hardened criminal going and ron said, don’t worry about him and then harry

walked out and put his fist right up to charlie’s head and said, if you don’t watch out, i will do a HDU ******, oh blimie charlie and then harry said

i hated you in those silent movies anyway, and ron said to harry, that is enough, and harry asked why can’t they have sharp knives here

so he can **** charlie chaplin, and ron did the gullible man thing by dashing, harry, sharp knives are a no no in here.

then lunch was cleared away, ready for the afternoon activities to begin, and harry went back to his room, and asked ron he doesn’t want to

be interrupted till dinner, and ron said ok, but we have to check up on you, but if you are asleep, we won’t wake you.

then at 4 in the afternoon, harry woke up and started to yell and scream at the nurses because they didn’t give him an alcoholic beverage

and the nurses held him down, so ron can give him another shot of ****** to calm him down, but harry didn’t want to be calmed down, he wants

to **** the nurses, because they won’t help me, and then harry yelled out, it’s a fucken hospital for ***** sake, and ron said, life is a ***** isn’t it.

then after 1 hour of a great sleep, it was dinner, and harry walked out calmly to eat his dinner which he hated, but the ****** was still calming him to

stop his ability to yell, then harry relaxed after tea in the TV room, and when the ****** wore off, he started to yell and was dragged kicking and screaming

to his room, ron got the evening medications ready, and did his rounds, and when he came to harry’s room, harry was naked and said, you gave me

another nice pill so i can be nice at dinner, hey, ****, and that isn’t on. i will track you down, the second i get out of here and **** you right in front of your best mates

like i was being locked away from my best mates, ron slowly calmed him down and gave him his medication, and locked harry in, walked away told the nurses

to keep him under suicide watch, and clocked off, and bought a pizza hut pizza and went home to watch TV and fall asleep on the couch and thinking about ways to reform

harry from the evils that lay around him, it won’t be easy, i tell ya.
David Adamson Jul 2015
Why do poets and photographers love fleeting things?
Angled shafts of sunlight piercing a mass
of clouds. A rainbow flashing from dragonfly wings.
Water drops beading like shards of glass.

The fluttering shape of a sycamore’s shade.
The sun sinking into its reflection
In a purple bay.  Smoke’s shadow. The rayed
Curve of a finger reaching for perfection.

Whatever churns, bursts, rocks, flies,
Foams, flickers, roils, evades
In pigments of impermanent dyes
We try to fix before it fades

Once I mourned the endless dying  
Of here and now, the present always past
Elegized each moment, sighing
Beauty is loss and can never last.

But now I think I had it wrong.  In fact
(I learned this from an artist’s eye)
Fleeting beauty reappears faster than we react,
At the speed of a daydream flashing by.

All around, light coalesces into form,
Form explodes into light,
And we live lavishly inside this storm
If we can learn to see it right.

Beauty multiplies, tapering, swelling:
Reshaping, reforming, now familiar, now strange.
This gaudy blur in which we’re dwelling
Is the permanence of change.
This is still a work in progress.  Comments very welcome.
Nigel Morgan Jan 2013
The sun rises tentatively through the forest heights behind the palace. In the pre-dawn light Jia Li has secured water and fuel for her visitors and despite the attentions of the pack horse men, who have returned from an evening at her village the worse for drink, she settles to feed her infant child. Meng Ning enters to seek her counsel. She already guesses his intentions and answers his brief questions with confidence. She knows the route to the Red Slate Path, perhaps four li distant. The path is clear, though little used. It is not a place those of her village visit, though she has learnt that the path itself defies nature’s attempts to cover its existence.
    Zuo Fen is standing on the terrace as Meng Ning returns to the Emperor’s Hall. She has slept deeply, is refreshed after a period of meditation and, despite the cold, has been washed and massaged by her maid. She appears dressed for walking, her boots, fur cloak and hat in purposeful combination. As she surveys the lake flocks of wild geese and duck chatter and squabble as they float on the surface. There are some experimental flights, pairs of duck taking off to fly in wide arcs only to return to the same stretch of water from where they rose in tandem. Soon the geese will leave to fly across the forests and moorland for distant harvested fields where they will spend the day foraging. Meng Ning points to a distant peninsula jutting out from the northern shore of the lake. Behind it, he says, lies the cove of the Red Slate Path. Perhaps there they will be able to understand more keenly the why of this mystery.

‘At such a distance,’ says Zuo Fen, ‘the detail of a boat would be quite lost. I imagine the peninsula acting like a pointing finger to its floating form. There is already fashioning within me a possible story that might explain this mystery.’

She smiles warmly at Meng Ning who bows his head rather than stare into her jade green eyes. She moves closer to his standing posture, taking his left hand secure but tense against the balustrade of the veranda. Lowering one leg before the other she slowly kneels, removing her hat, loosening her fur cloak that now spreads itself of its own accord beside and behind her. With both hands behind her neck she lifts her long hair found to parted and tied in simple peasant fashion. Raising her hands to full-stretch her sleeping hair warm from the bare skin of her back slowly cascades forward and across each of her ******* to curl like two cats in the bowl of her robe.

‘Mei Lim is with Jia Li’, Zuo Fen says curiously and with a voice Meng Ning has not encountered before. ‘I fell to sleep dreaming of your kind presence and the joy of being touched and kissed.’ He cannot see her face as she speaks, only the quivering fall of her hair across her kneeling body. ‘I awoke feeling your breath on my cheek and so brought your limbs to entwine with my own.’ He now senses the delicate unguents of her body; they compass him about, his hand falls from the balustrade to touch her hair.

Finding her right ear his fingers describe its shape, its sculptured relief of folded forms and crevices. He is becoming faint with something outside passion that requires him to go beyond her ear and flow of hair about his fingers. He unties his cloak, letting it drop behind him. He removes his boots and outer garments. She follows his example. He moves to her side, adopts the position of the swallow resting on the wind. They face one another.  To the accompaniment of their breathing, her hands begin a dance in the space between their lower limbs as though they are birds turning and falling in flight. Unlike the courtesans he sees at court her nails are short, her fingers long. Then, it is as though her hand holds a brush forming characters and she begins to write on his body with short deft movements this way that way describing her flight of passion. Some intuition tells him to allow this, and not to seek repricocity, as it seems from her breathing that these very actions give her the greatest delight, bring her to the edge of the first coitus. Eyes closed, he moves his nose into a glancing embrace with her own, feeling there a semblance of perspiration, that tell-tale sign of a woman’s readiness for the deeper embrace. She responds to this with sighs and swift movements of rapture that envelope him, and now, as she quickly brings her limbs into a right conjunction, he places one hand beneath her, the other to recline her body gently to the floor, her cloak becoming a pillow for her head.
    He now looks directly at her, her face expressionless as though all thought and feeling has entered her body in preparation to receive his own. She does not blink. There is a moment of great stillness, a great wave of calm breaks, moves forward and pulls back – and again, again. In an instant he will enter her Jade Gate to caress and kiss and move where only his Lord has visited. He knows that once there he will seal his own fate . . .
     It is the talk of poets that women are often at their most sensitive to love’s attention in the morning hours, and that this was, for so many reasons, the most impractical of times for men. Zuo Fen herself had written fu poems that took the reader to the most intimate moments of a concubine’s experience in the morning hours, those times when alone the body gathers to itself its essential nature, and is often caressed with the woman’s own hand and thoughts. To understand such circumstance, to hold its sweetness as an abiding taste during the formalities of the day, only to release its flavour in the pleasure hours of the night, was a manly attribute, said to be treasured, indeed honoured by women.
      When Meng Ning withdrew Zuo Fen lay for some while letting the unaccustomed circumstance and its location only gradually allow a return to conscious and present thoughts. She pictured now her journey to the Red Slate Path, Jia Li, her baby on her back, striding beside Meng Ning, then herself and finally Mei Lim - who would have entreated her mistress to be allowed to accompany her. There was the glade, a small bowl in the hillside where it was just possible to see a small cave from which, glistening, the broken patterns of the slate path fell after half a li into the lake. She would investigate the cave. She would walk to the water’s edge, where the trees stepped into and reached over the lake to lay a carpet of fallen leaves. Then to see the path gradually, gradually disappear into the depths.
    Whilst Zuo Fen, with her eyes closed, projected her thoughts forward in time, with accustomed tact Mei Lim left those accouterments a woman needs after the attentions of a lover. She feared for the young man, though she knew her Lord prized too much his Lady of The Purple Chamber to effect jealousy or display anger.
    As the sun cleared away the thin cloud and approached its zenith the company broached the crest of the hill above the glade. It was, Zuo Fen had to admit, just as she had imagined lying prone and in disarray in the Emperor’s hall. In silence, and in the company of her imagination, she now paced from cave to path to water, and standing at the very edge of the lake’s bank focused her mind to envisage the events of twenty years past.
     It was as though a rhapsody was already formed. She found herself recounting the tale in her world of characters where there is only present time. She felt her hand describe them with the flow of her brush, heard the sound of its movement across the thick parchment. She was slow to notice that Meng Ning had disrobed and was entering the water. Without a word she watched him move through the carpet of floating leaves, some sticking to his nakedness, and onwards, slowly, following the submerged path until his torso then only his shoulders were visible. She then knew what he hoped to find, even after the passage of so many years.

She saw it all, suddenly. The sorcerer Yang Mo and the Emperor’s second wife descending the Red Slate Path as a cavalcade of fire and smoke, loud flashes of light, noises of brass and clashing metal enveloped the glade and the boat itself. The watching company witnessed for a moment the couple disappear under the waters only for their collective sight to be shrouded in a climaxed confusion of the sorcerer’s devices and effects.

When, finally the smoke cleared, the boat and the lovers had vanished.

Zuo Fen watched Meng Ning disappear from view. She imagined him, as the pearl fishers she had heard tell of, diving down to the depths, holding his breath to seek what might remain of the illusory boat. But time passed beyond the possibility of what she knew could be endured by human-kind. The surface of the water remained unbroken. The division of open water made by Meng Ning in breaking apart the carpet of floating leaves was already reforming itself.
   Removing her cloak and her boots, and unpinning her hair, Zuo Fen stepped into the water. A memory floated towards her of bathing in the lake near to her summer retreat. Water held no fear for her, only now the cold consumed her. Her loosed hair, and her elaborate untied robe settled on the water’s surface: to surround her like a lily pad, she the budding flower at its centre. She felt her feet still firmly on the Red Slate Path, her chin now resting on the water’s surface. Whatever had happened to Meng Ning she knew her action to be compliant. She had immersed herself with the very element that had brought him either death or, as she knew in her heart, a most honorable escape.
ryn Sep 2014
These hands have clawed with blind eyes
Chipped nails on fingers working on knots and ties

Fingers that recklessly point to reproaches and blames
Never to self, righteousness through arrogant claims

Now aware, these palms have covered my face in contempt
For they've partook in activities; indulgent and unkempt

Rubbed skin raw on life's coarse sandpaper
Ever searching for the coming of the unanticipated saviour

Broken flesh hopeful for newly formed skin
Like tattered souls pleading for absolution of sin

Only skin deep but unfavourable experiences do fester
Expecting the proverbial infection to blow over

Here they are, held unclenched and riddled with pocks
Weathered and sore from time's infinite mocks

Maybe thereafter, will be awaited healing
Perhaps soon after, I will be forgiving

See now... Hands faced up, parted as halves
Asking not for alms but instead your acceptance as salve

Take into yours, these knackered, gnarled up palms
Let your porcelain-like touch relieve like life reforming balm
MORE BAD STUFF IN PARIS



LAST NIGHT, ME WHO IS CRONUS, AND BUDDHA AND ATHENA WERE WORKING OVERTIME

WITH THE SOULS OF THE HOSTAGES KILLED IN THE SUPERMARKEY SITUATION, AND ALSO

THE KILLING OF THE TWO HOSTAGES KILLED IN THE PARIS MAGAZINE ATTACK, AND DESPITE

ME SAYING THEY NEED MEDICATION, CRONUS, DECIDED TO REALLY, GET IN ON THE MINDS

OF THE COPS, SO THEY CAN DRAG THESE MEN DOWN, AND EVEN IF THEY DID DIE, WHICH

THEY DID, THEY WILL GO TO NEXT LIFE ANYWAY, THIS IS WHO AQUEDA THING CALLED BE

A WAY TO RUIN CRONUS AND ATHENAS PLAN TO BRING INNER PEACE TO THE WORLD, AND

THE FACT THAT 3 GUNMEN DIED, BUT ONE WOMAN GUN PERSON FLED THE SCENE, AND

THIS COULD TAKE FOREVER, YOU SEE, CRONUS, WHO IS ME AND ATHENA AND BUDDHA

TOLD POLICE, TO AIM FIRE, CAUSE CRONUS WAS GIVING HIS EARTH BODY, BRIAN, TO

JUST KEEP THE PEACE, BY BUDDHISM, BUT UMMMMM WE HAVE RID THESE EVIL DUDES

UMMMMMM THEY HAVE BEEN LAID TO BURN IN A FIREY HELL, UMMMMMM WELL, WHAT I

MEAN BY FIRERY HELL, IS THEY WILL BE PUT IN ATHENA’S LITTLE JAIL, AND BE PUT

ON UNIVERSAL TV, TO BE EXPLAINED TO THEM, THAT THEIR NEXT LIFE, WILL BE DISCIPLINED

ABOUT KILLING ALL THESE INNOCENT PEOPLE, AND I KNOW I SAID, GIVE THEM MEDICATION

BUT IF I SAID **** THEM, IT MIGHT BE HARDER FOR THE POLICE TO CATCH THEM, AS SOON

AS THE GUNMEN CAME UP TO BUDDHA, ATHENA AND CRONUS’S ENTRY TO THE AFTERLIFE

THE TERRORST GUNMEN SAID TO US, SHUT UP, I AM TRAINING MY NEXT LIFE TO BE A TERRORIST

AND WE’LL SPOIL YOUR STUPID PLAN, DUDES, WE’LL SPOIL YOUR STUPID PLAN, AND THEN

AS BUUDHA, ATHENA AND CRONUS, BROUGHT THE THREE GUNMEN THROUGH, THE AFTER LIFE

SAID BOOOOOOO HIIIIIIISSSS BOOOOOOO HIIIIIISSS, AND THEN THEY ALL YELLED, GO TO THE SUN

TO BURN OFF THEIR HOOLIGAN, AND THEN GRABBED A KEG OF METHANE, AND TIPPED METHANE

ALL OVER THESE TERRORISTS, AND THEN SENT THEM TO THE SUN AND STRAPPED THEM DOWN

SO THEY CAN’T SPOIL THE AFTERLIFE, FOR EVERYONE ELSE, THESE PEOPLE ARE IN CHRISTIAN HELL

AND IN BUDDHIST SUN, THE SUN AND METHANE, IS THE WAY WE ****, OFF OUR HOOLIGAN IN ALL

OUR BODIES, THE INNOCENT PEOPLE KILLED IN SUPERMARKET ARE BEING HONOURED ON SATURN

WITH A CONCERT BY SAM KINISON, SINGING WILD THING, YOU GO TO THE SUN NOW, YOU MAKE MY HEART

SING, AS WE ARE BURNING YOUR HOOLIGAN NOW, YOU WILL MAKE THE AFTER LIFE GROOVY, YOU BIG

DISPICKABLE WILD THING, WILD THING, I WANNA DISCIPLINE YOU, CAUSE I WANNA BURN YA OLD TERRORIST BODY

AND BRING YOU TO YOUR NEXT LIFE, AND HAVE YOU LEARN, ABOUT THE ERROR OF YOUR WAYS

AND THE KILLED HOSTAGES WERE DANCING UP THERE SENDING THE TERRORISTS, TO THE SUN

TO BE BURNED, AND REFORMED, TO BE BROUGHT TO THEIR NEXT LIFE, TO ****** LEARN AND

THEN BARRY ALLAN CAME OUT AND SANG A FEW SONGS HE USED TO SING TO US, I FORGOT HOW

THE SONGS WENT, BUT I REMEMBERED THEM, AS DAD, DECIDED TO HELP ME WITH THE REFORMING

OF THESE TERRORISTS, MAYBE THAT IS THE SPIRITUAL REASON WHY CRONUS BECAME HIS SON

BECAUSE HIS LAST 2 LIVES LOST THEIR LIVES TOO YOUNG, AND NOW CRONUS GETS UP AND SAYS

UMMMMMMMM WE HAVE KILLED 3 GUNMEN


UMMMMMMMMM THEY ARE ON THE SUN BURNING AWAY THEIR HOOLIGAN


UMMMMMMMMM   THANKS TO CRONUS, WHO IS ME, THIS DOESN’T GO INTO THE OSAMA FILE



UMMMMMMMMM  THE TERRORIST ATTACK MIGHT STILL BE ON AS GIRLFRIEND IS STILL AT LARGE



UMMMMMMMM BURN IN THE SUN BURN IN THE SUN, BURN RIGHT DOWN, **** THEIR HOOLIGAN

UMMMMMMMM  BURN IN THE SUN BURN IN THE SUN BURN RIGHT DOWN  **** THEIR HOOLIGAN

UMMMMMMMM   WE WILL BRAY FOR BUDDHA, TO KEEP THE HOSTAGES SAFE FROM THE TERRORISTS

UMMMMMMMM WE MUST PRAY TO BUDDHA, TO KEEP EARTH SAFE, AND MEND EACH BLADE OF GRASS

UMMMMMMMMM  TO FINALLY WIN THE WAR ON TERROR


UMMMMMMMMM **** THEIR HOOLIGAN UMMMMMMMM **** THEIR HOOLIGAN UMMMMMMM **** THEIR HOOLIGAN


UMMMMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM


AND CRONUS, AND ATHENA WENT OVER TO THE SUN, AND BURNING THEIR EVIL SOUL, TO HOPEFULLY BRING

PEACE ON EARTH

CRONUS, WHO IS ME, SAYS, THIS, THE WORLD NEEDS TO CRACK DOWN ON THIS WAR ON TERROR, OR WORLD WAR 3 WILL ERUPT

AND WE’LL HAVE TO GET EVERYONE FIGHTING IN THE WAR, LIKE THE SYDNEY SIEGE AND THIS EVENT OF THE ATTACKS IN PARIS

AND ALL THE STUFF IN THE PAST, NO WE ARE LOOKING TOWARD WORLD WAR 3, IF WE’RE NOT CAREFUL, INSTEAD OF ARGUING

EACH POLITITAN, OF EACH COUNTRY HAS TO CRACK DOWN, WITH TOUGHER LAWS, EVEN IF IT CREATES PEOPLE BEING RICH ******

IT’S BETTER THAN LOSING ALL THESE LIVES THROUGH THE WAR ON TERROR, WE NEED TO SAVE THE WORLD FROM THIS

ATHENA SAID, YEAH, HOW THE WORLD CAN STOP THIS, DOES SOUND IMPOSSIBLE, BUT, WE MUST MAKE THE LAWS TOUGHER

INSTEAD OF WORRYING ABOUT COPYRIGHT, TRY AND FIGURE OUT HOW TO STOP TERRORIST ATTACKS, LIKE CHANGE

LAWS,MAKING IT HARD FOR PEOPLE TO OBTAIN GUNS, OR HERE IS A SOLUTION, TOUGHER GUN LICENSES, CAUSE, IT’S

A SHAME WE HAVE TO DO THIS

BUUDHA AND CRONUS CHANTED

UMMMMMMMMMMM  GUN GUN WHY DOES THE WORLD GUNS UMMMMMMMMM WE UNDERSTAND THE POLICE I UNDERSTAND THE POLICE


UMMMMMMMMMMM POLICE CAN PROTECT US WITH GUNS  UMMMMMMMMMM  BUT TOO MANY PEOPLE ARE KILLING PEOPLE WITH GUNS

UMMMMMMMMMMM WHAT CAN WE DO, WHAT CAN WE DO   UMMMMMMMMMMM WE NEED TO HAVE TOUGHER GUN LAWS

AND THEN THE INNOCENT HOSTAGES WERE SET FREE, AND BUDDHA AND CRONUS, LEFT THE GUNMEN BURNING THEIR HOOLIGANS IN THE SUN

SO THE FUTURE OF THE WORLD CAN BE SAVED, AND NOT BRING ON WORLD WAR 3

I AM CRONUS
Trey Evans Nov 2014
Lord,
I know I’m nowhere near your model image
For what a good human is
I come here with nowhere left to turn
Exiled from my home
Ridiculed for trying to change
My devilish looks turning strangers away
My reforming person unaccepted by family

Tonight I weep
For what I was born into
And not being able to change
Into something you see fit
My tears,
Burning the very ground I walk on
Hoping for redemption
Praying for forgiveness

I’ve never asked for anything
But now?
I need answers
Answers to questions I’ve never been able to solve
Am I destined to be a demon?
Or can these horns form a halo?
5/16/13
Marieta Maglas Aug 2013
She started to reorganize the kingdom,  to give it access to the sea,  
To modernize the economy, and any army officer had a college degree.
That superpower had one weakness: she was stronger than her king.
She reorganized the political administration by creating a diplomacy ring.

She used the high trees belonging to their forests  to build  many ships.
She opened gold mines by using slaves  being  beaten with hard whips.
Reforming the toll system, she rose the taxes to pay for the army wars,
And created the overseas colonies to have many ports on the seashores.

She dissolved the parliament not wanting to consult with them.
A lot of  protests took place in the main cities her behavior to condemn.
The archbishop retired, because she reduced the ecclesiastical rights.
The new archbishop was trustful to her, and made new religious rites..

This way, Surah held completely the religious and the political power.
To advocate her prerogatives, a new Doctor Fox she started to empower.
Surah created a new high society at the John's court to control his life.
The old nobility lost the independence, which was a major cause of strife.

Surah met John and asked him to give her a part of his kingdom.
John gave her a big province , which it became her  new sub-kingdom.
She recruited and trained a new secret army, being ready to strike him
Clearly knowing  that his chances of winning this battle are pretty slim.

John knew  he was too young to be a ruler and allied with Frederick.
To make friends the vassals for this battle with Surah, they were quick.
When her army was subdued , she really saw the fire of God as sacred.
She had to face His army, and to see how her own men were massacred.

There always had been poverty, but at that time, after seven years, there were many vagabonds on the streets. Frieda was preparing the dinner waiting for Pauline to come. Eda , their friend, helped her. Eda worked as  a servant for a rich person. Her husband was a digger. Pauline entered the house in a rush being very upset and saying,

'A **** stole my bag .'Eda said,'Hoboes have no license to beg.'
'I tried to catch him , but he ran so fast.' 'You should shake your leg'
'People like him are tied to a cart, and whipped till they are bloodied',
Said Pauline,'they're forced to return to their homes being so muddied.'



'By law, the vagabonds can be made slaves for ten years', said Frieda.
' If they ran away during this time they're made slaves for life’, said Eda.
'Some  people have to rely on poor relief', said Pauline. 'Others thrive.
After having money they're forced  to pay a tax to keep hoboes alive',

Said Eda.'The overseers can provide work for any able-bodied vagrant.
If he refuses to work he's whipped, but he waits to be caught in flagrant’,
Said Frieda. 'The pauper's child goes to the employer to be an apprentice',
Said Eda.'For many poor people, drinking gin is their only preference.'

Pauline said, ‘I would like to eat roast beef cooked with pea.'
'My dear, meat is a luxury. We have  bread, butter, potatoes and tea' ,
Said Frieda.'By the way, where's Surah now?''She's John's vassal
As a landless queen.’Pauline smiled.’ She lives in her old castle.'
(Mary , Clara and Sarah, another nun, were preparing their dinner. On the table , there were corn, carrots some cheese, a little bread, a bottle of milk and six eggs.)

Mary said,'Monastery churches were converted to parish churches.
Buildings having monastic cells were left to ruin for social searches.'
'In order to hide, we must build new monasteries in the mountain valleys',
Sarah said.' Teaching poor people, others live near towns having alleys’,

Said Clara.'They live humble lives needing silence to devote themselves
To the worship of God, to copy out  manuscripts placed on their shelves,
To baptize the people, to farm their lands, and for tending their sheep',
Said Mary.'She restricted pilgrims from coming there to pray and to sleep',

Said Clara.'Many suppressed monasteries were hardly hit to surrender.
To confiscate the lands', said Mary,'Surah also convicted any defender.'
'You're right. Those , who agreed to surrender were given pensions for life',
Said Clara,'The transfer of the  lands to the Crown was Surah's greatest strife.

Some monasteries were transformed into workhouses for poor people
Having no income. Throwing out the bell, she built a room in every  steeple',
Said Sarah.'Surah deterred poor people from asking the state for help.
In houses, they wore uniforms being angry, while hearing the dog's yelp.

Husbands , wives and children still live separately , while breaking the stone .
Many children are looking like having a syndrome of the hungry bone',
Said Mary.'What is she doing now?'Clara asked.'John pushed her out the door’,
Said Sarah,'She tastes the peace while recovering from her last war!'
(In his castle, Frederick, John and Matthew, who was Frederick’s councillor, were waiting for the dinner.
John was 19 years old , not a minor any longer. On the table, there were green beans, asparagus, grapefruits, cheese, bread, avocado and eggs.)

John said ,'my mother didn't let her have a very close relationship with us,
But help was there when I needed it most , and aunt Surah loved me, thus.’
Frederick said,'Then, why did she declare war against you? It's strange.'
'In just one year', said Matthew,'it's amazing how many things can change.'

'She taught you everything , this way, you tried to undermine her power',
Said Frederick. 'She threatened to destroy me, but I could never cower',
Said John,'her counselors built a wall between myself and my people.'
Matthew smiled', she was that sound coming from a mysterious steeple'

'Each king ceded to me a part of his land in exchange for his vassalage,
And she didn't like it', said John.'She couldn't add controls to backstage’.
Matthew said,’ You took their territories on the coast to expand the naval power.
You traced the traitors, who were her people to imprison them in the tower.’

’ She had governed your  kingdom while limiting your power and influence’,
Said Frederick, ' and while advising you  to use some diplomatic prudence.'
John said,'then, she used her corsairs to attack my merchant ships.'
Matthew said,'we must trace her, and cope with missing information slips.’

To be continued...tomorrow
Dead Rose One Jan 2015
everyday chores

wake
eye-crusted

weep

hoping
to free-falling freedom


maybe

splash

words of encouragement

let them
dry
untowled and untrammeled

upon expressionless lips


routinize

squeeze
out the poem

reforming repeatedly


write

of everyday chores

sleep

go to, to go,
half awarding awaring
that newbie tears new pooling
will by morn
old crusting creating
and

everyday chores

never ending

I am earth
crusted
no matter how deep
daily

dug
the untitled
everyday chores
hi dudes

last year i had to do, my dad died and i had to share my brieving oh yeah

last year i had to do, you see my previous life cronus, had to reincarnate my dad to betty

you see i was running and walking and i lost energy

because i was really hyped up, i ain’t into fetes at schools

but i had to do that because i was trying to remember dad and grieve

you see dad was throwing down memories

and i was the belconnen santa meeting the tuggeranong santa

you see i had to say, i was the christmas man

i did a lot of youtube videos and i don’t do as much now

because i am getting tired, maybe it’s my body reforming to make sure i don’t back to the psych ward

as i said i had to do that last year because i want to take all the hype out of my brain

so i can totally relax when i am with company

i remember taking a girl to a few concerts at stage ’88 and a tent over near parliament house, ya know john farnham

and sitting near parliament house watching the carols, and i like the lighting of the christmas tree

and i wanted dad and mum to see what canberra has to offer, and

i got hyped up, as my childhood desire of me, wanting to be famous, so i went on the internet

to see what i am good at, and yes, i am good at art, art colony, yes i am good at writing hello poetry

yes i can put a show on, youtube, and i am into a lot of what youtube has to offer, on my Facebook page

you see, i know i said, i will never go on Facebook but i had to, i am famous on the computer

and last year, dads spirit was getting into my body, and most of my videos were created by dad

and dad isn’t around, he’s betty, actually what is really happening, i am having fun, but i am getting tired

from entertaining, you see i had a few good ideas from youtube, like the carols by computer screen

i will be doing that again this year, and i am bringing bing crosby back to life as him and frank sinatra

were getting their spirits into my body, to let people know what christmas shows used to be, dad helped

you see dad taught us how computers can relive the past, youtube has dads spirit all through, but in a way

the people on youtube do things that dad wouldn’t approve of, even me, but everybody is different

you see preaching discipline is wrong, because you go to the youtube page, to learn what different people

are doing, you see when i was young i was sort of the black sheep of the family, in a way, i just disappeared

like what happened in 2013, and dad told us about his cat who used to turn the radio channel to the smokey dawson show

you see he lived his childhood from radio, but we were one of the only families who had a computer back in the 80s

well, we weren’t really, i am sure many more families had computers in the 80s, but not as much as now

dad looked like an old fogie, and i was teasing him, but that doesn’t mean i hated computers, and it doesn’t mean i hated dad

because in those days, only old fogies had the best computers, and in those days, you had to have money to be famous

you had to be good also, you see last year in 2014, i was having problems with the death of my dad, i was writing all this crap

and i couldn’t get  the anger out of my body and it was hard, but i finally got it out, but dad took a while to bring me back

because i like heavy metal, and i like the idea of bringing the carols by computer screen to life, i might seem like an old fogie at the moment

but that is better than being too woosey to be a computer nerd, you see dad is helping me be able to read my poems at the poetry

slam on the 3rd wednesday of each month, you see back in the 90s, i couldn’t read poems like this, and i got teased for that, but

i ain’t living in the past, well if i did, i will live in the year 0f 2002, when i started writing stories and poems, you see writing is better

than sitting on the sideline, when i have a talented family, and i am inheriting some of that talent, but i still like being lazy though

so i sit on my couch doing my tapestry like a cool adult ya see, you see, i find bing crosby and frank sinatra are the best christmas

entertainers, and i have written a few christmas carols like my version of white christmas, i am dreaming of a white christmas well stop

cause it’s too **** hot for that, and summer weather instead of winter weather and the good old winter wonderland, i have a carol summer wonderland

on the beach we can build a sandcastle, and bury uncle robbie in the sand, and my father came out saying carn ya bludgers, give your ****** mum

a ****** hand, you see i remembered dad said, i shouldn’t use ******, but i am taking the mickey out of the aussie language

but i stuck at my guns, determined to bring my carols by computer screen to life, being hyped up, but despite last year

getting a lot of fans, i still was hyped up, like, i want to host the raiders show properly but i need to relax, and at the end of this year

i will dressing up as a bird at the belconnen arts centre doing the cha cha and doing movements to the costume makers story of the bird

i am looking forward to that, and i promise i will be the best bird there, dads spirit is there trying to make people understand that this is

something i like, because this year has been a bit slow for me, but the bird piece will see if i could do movement well, which will bring me

to broadway in my next life, and maybe it might get canberra away from the group status, because i don’t give a toss about canberra

i am still enjoying my life, i have a lot of confidence in myself to be a good actor, mind you, who cares if there might be a few hiccups this year

i still got through it, i will be continuing to do carols by computer screen, this year i am spending christmas eve, with my mum, watching

the muppet family christmas and the carols by candlelight in melbourne and we will have lucky dips, buying thins $3.00 and less

and we are going to the stage ’88 christmas carols together, bringing a picnic dinner, and sing waving candles  to and fro

you see i am determined to keep bing crosby’s spirit still on earth over the computer,
REHAB



MY PARENTS WANTED ME TO GO TO REHAB

BUT I JUST SAY NO, I HATE REHAB CAUSE IT’S WHERE CRAZY PEOPLE GO

CRAZY PEOPLE WHO BASH PEOPLE UP, FOR BEING THERE OWN PERSON

CRAZY PEOPLE, WHO GET UP TO MISCHIEF, FOR GRAND LARSON

YOU SEE MY FOLKS WANTED ME TO GO TO REHAB

BUT I SAY NO, THEY WANTED ME TO GO AND GET BETTER

BUT I SAY I AM BETTER OFF AT HOME

SITTING ON MY COUCH WITH MY ART AND COMPUTER BY MY SIDE

IS WAY BETTER THAN GOING TO REHAB

TO SEE SOME BIKIE RIP THE TV OUT OF THE WALL

I HATE GOING TO REHAB, CAUSE I AM NOT THAT SICK

YOU SEE ONLY NERDS GET BETTER, AND I AIN’T NO NERD

I WANT TO STOP BAD THOUGHTS, BUT I CAN DO THAT ON THE COUCH

I DON’T NEED NO MENTAL HEALTH PROFESSIONAL TELLING ME HOW TO ACT

I DON’T WANT TO GO TO REHAB, AND YOU CAN’T MAKE ME

I HAVE MY OWN WAYS OF REFORMING MYSELF RATHER THAN LISTENING TO IDIOTS IN THERE

THE ONLY ****** I AM IS A YOUTUBE ONE

AND I IF I SEE ANYONE FROM THERE, I SAY I BETTER LEAVE THEM ALONE

AND THEY WILL COME HOME, TO TELL ME THEIR PROBLEMS, AS IF I CAN HELP OH ****

MY PARENTS WANTED ME TO GO TO REHAB, BUT I SAY NO

MY LIFE IS SITTING ON THE COUCH WITH MY TAPESTRY AND COKE AND COMPUTER, OH YEAH

AND NOW, A SAILOR WENT TO SEA SEA SEA, TO SEE WHAT HE CAN SEE SEE SEE

AND ALL THAT HE CAN SEE SEE SEE, WAS A PACKET OF CHEDDAR CHEESE CCs

AND BRIAN ALLAN YELLED OUT WHERE’S THE SALSA, MY DEAR BOY

MY PARENTS WANT ME TO GO TO REHAB AND I SAY NO

REHAB IS A PLACE FOR LOSERWS

AND I SAY NO, I DON’T WANT TO LEAVE MY COMPUTER, OR MY ART

JUST TO GET YELLED AT IN REHAB, NO NO NO NO NO

THE ONLY ****** IN ME IS AC YOUTUBE ******

I AM OBSSESED WITH YOUTUBE AND MY ART

IF YOU WANT ME BACK IN REHAB, YOU CAN GO AND KISS MY ***

CAUSE I HATE REHAB, WITH A PASSION, DUDES
Commuter Poet Nov 2016
Young politician
Remember to learn
Before you try to lead
'Driving up standards
Takes leadership', you say

Leadership is listening
Leadership is caring
Leadership is learning

Leadership means reforming your own character
Instead of trying to reform others

Before you build something new
Build on what is there

Young politician
You are there to serve
Not to dictate
You are there to explore
Not to judge

Young politician
Others must guide you
For you may guide yourself and others
To desperation
18th November 2016
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2014
life is our poetic reality,
you are the best ever
metaphor,
the one poets
keep stealing from
each other,
at the intersection
of our eyes crossing

your disruptive crying poetry,
bring to me in NYC,
and I'll take you to
poetry slams,
tango parties, a real Chinatown,
blow smoke up your nose,
Waltz step on your toes,
drink with you
in Central Park at five am,
visit half a dozen museums,
take you to the ballet,
and then you can maybe,
cross a few to-do's
off of our mutual
intersections

care taken,
if you want hide deep,
but to late for thee and our world,
your name on the roster
of poets by night,
tinkers, soldiers,
and some who tailor
poems bespoke
for the ones who
dare not reveal their true (s)elves
in the words they write.

1431
poems in ye old inbox,
genteel knocking,
whispering thru stolid front door
love me a little lot,
little lot, love me?

these are the holy-of-the-holies
attention-me-crystal-cries,
prayers, wry observations, nature collations,
me and thee adorations,
heart rendering
screams of need,
these are the moments in your life
raw-roughened gifted
or threaded smooth cursed,
but tendered unto my caring

am old man.
my poetic voice is just
memories that are
repetitive lies and lines.

speak in simple sentences declarative.
this is nature's way.

darkness approaching is indeed my
au courant poem, mon actuellement.

I have seen betterdays

ain't young enough to be afraid no more
write what pleases me.

this day leases me
what pleases me
and this is as close as I can come
to being human
and writing my flawless poem.

Anything I can do to keep you,
happy and poetry-free
from midnight
till the **** crows
and slumber trumps
the restless words
that will wait
till mo(u)rning born,
and the kingdom of poetry,
awoken,
comes alive

These four senses all recombinant,
On the cheek, on the tongue,
Wafting, tickling, blasting, visioning
Merging into a single touch
That my pointer finger,
by force majeure,
Declares, here,  poem aborning,
Contract with this moment,
now satisfied.

Al,  what you did not ask was this:
With each passing poem,
I am lessened within, expurgated,
In a sense part of me, expunged,
Part of me, passing too,
Every poems birth diminishes me

long have I searched for my
flawless poem,
knowing it my be
my next one,
each a doorway to the next

this one, and the
one before,
never good enough,
keep the essay going
in fourth gear

I taste skin,
like a good poem,
the cheek, the shoulder bare,
the in between spaces,
the minty hint of décolleté,
the ankle chain,
turning my breath heated,
tips of red noses,
I take and
I keep
and no,
no refunds, no returns

nowadays,
grandpa's tools
outdated, shelved,
in their final
resting place,
blades dulled,
the technology
of his verbiage,
rusted by old age

the reads diminishing,
his touch, antiquated,
his best days, resting on top of
the ocean internet waves
his summertime buddies,
sand sun grass and
sea air perfumes,
singing,
"awe, we got ya,
cosy and comforted,
awaiting you in your chair,
overlooking our truest
sheltered applause"

so I write for me,
write for her,
for with her,
in love's sight,
life is
easy like Sunday morning,
and
that's why I'm easy,
like Sunday morning

wake up unscrubbed,
sleep still in the eyes,
dream crusted,
probably unaware, child,
that you are a poem
sleeping

when a little girl,
reverting, designing
real from dreams,
processing, reforming,
the dreams lusting
to be poems
to go awandering

don't
let the sin memories
of ancient words,
black gold bubble up
with the first striking of the blade

Delve
(excavate your soul deep)
Not

I did not come this poem to write
I did not come to repeat
Solomon's poem,
nothing new under the sun

don't,
daunting
wish to delve into my delusions,
my original sin
the deceit
the conceit
I am unique
I am original

*Experience anew,
Each time,
Say:
This is my first time,
This is my first work

I do not need your validation.
I validate myself
and in doing so,
who else
comes along
for the ride
on our tide?

create with no shame
create with no measuring stick
only this:
everything that is done well
                           is good art

Be Fertile and Radiate
Excerpts from stuff written between late March and early April.
I write about poetry, writing and their intersection inside of me, probably too much.
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019
Year after year
--at daylight savings--
he kept moving his clock backward,
but never forward,
until he wound-up in the wrong century.

He then slept in masks,
his dreams repeatedly
disbanding and reforming,
as if in someone else's show,
but it was his hallucinating set-list, for sure.

He lived at the call of the void,
feeding off peppermint sticks
and clusters of chokeberry,
to help ease the pressure.

One phantom summer,
he read The Joy of Euthanasia
from cover-to-cover, over and over,
until he could recite death.

He poured his heart
into his new work
as an artist of tacenda,
--yes, he kept a lid on it.

And when the pretty young bees
buzzed about underneath
their brazen parasols,
he'd smile up at the sun
for her complicit glow:
the warmest days
always drew them out to him,
like honey on the tongue.

Now naysayers may keep
him out of Canton,
but one day, like most serial killers,
they will name a school after him
and his hijinks.
sobroquet Jun 2013
renegade memories
relentless effrontery
rogue  fractured intruders
a formulable formidable aside inside
man is a modified monkey
a jackdaw in peacock's feathers
contradictions, the multiplicity that is a unity
a patchwork of odds and ends
snips and snails
                                  dreams and delusions                                
hopes and fears
a mystifying  knot of  phantasmagoric  disquietude

agape in a stupefied bewilderment
as an autistic child swept up in minutiae
inscrutable incongruities
melange of matters beyond  explanations
maundering machinates
necessary inventions repeating and reforming
sheltering some aspect of the mind's deforming
'reaction formations' sotto voce instructs the analyst
defending emotions at the personalities bequest
    merrily merrily merrily merrily,  life is but a dream
psychotherapy is no mere scheme
partial selves
Bruce Levine Jul 2018
Clouds
drifting across the sky
in imaginary forms

Clouds
making imaginary images
that only the mind
can put together

Clouds
of varying shades
and shapes

Clouds
metamorphosing

Clouds
morphing
into the unknown

Clouds
metamorphosed

Clouds
floating
like the Goodyear blimp
off on the horizon

Clouds
lost
shapeless
meeting
and reforming

Clouds
like foam on the ocean
endless and everlasting
but empty in their
subtlety

Clouds
like cotton candy
pink then white
shifting shades
of gray

Clouds
filled with rain
or as
ephemeral
as infinity
ethereal
everlasting
ogdiddynash Mar 2015
Aging Poetry Well (proving the valor of writing poetry)

no more write, post, establish
to your immediate satisfaction,
what you are
what you think
is an amazing piece of
just you,
plus+comprehending
the world needs it, you,
ASAP!

needy for the
cosplay contemporaneous sharing,
curse of our
instantaneous time

from now on
deep down, gonna let it
casket age,
let memory
of the intensity
rust sufficiently to
get some time~plied
rusted accurate actualized
perspective

maybe trash it,
maybe tinker and
spot-check edit,
but if it is going
to stand
time testing,
let it pass a
first Herculean
examination of
fire and forget,
returning later
to collect it,
the wounded
that,
refusing to die,
thus proving proof,
the valor of
red badged courage of
writing poetry

is it worthy long after
the internal commotion
has passed,
just like
an ordinary
but very first

"I love you"

forming and reforming
then blurted in  
a wunderkind awkwardness,
that can't be
taken back,
well, *** and all that

put me aside,
could be weeks,
months,
researching
the thing I love most,
waiting for the day I
need it worse,
a lot less,
so I can
do it better

maybe even go back
look up them
odd old folks,
written in
longing ago high passion,
and come at them
differently
or wistfully,
not
and like me,
age
for better
or
for worse
OD Aug 2023
Stripped bare

Lost yet aware

Battling the confines of
Perception
And
Projection

My back covered in the lashes
Of what you expect of me
My blood
painting a picture
of who I will never be

Stripped bare

Lost yet aware

Skin reforming
You tried to mutilate and manipulate
But the scars are evidence of my warning

This is me transforming

Stripped bare of your limitation

This is liberation
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2023
<|>

v V v  writes:

It is quite amazing to me that everything in life, love, relationships, survival, progress, growth, etc. .. it all boils down to some type of sacred balance.. a balance that is extremely precarious, and fragile... even the known universe follows a sacred balance, the seasons, the tides, day and night, if any of those balances slip, we no longer exist.. fascinating and brain bending truth

<|>

3:27AM

there are somethings you just know

read the words above, without hesitation,
knew therein lay a poem co-missioned
that required instantaneous creation,
as if it was a observable commandment
that need instant gratification,
nay, more so,
a relieving, an unburdening
a lifting of a hearty blockage impeding,
distressing my existence

perhaps
our lives are a life long attempts
to keep
A Balance,
our individual and mutually conflicting
of-all-our-imbalances,
as they intersect and sway,
on a flood plain, ever unstable and shifting,
so many eddies colliding on the surface of a mighty river

yes, there is something otherworldly here,
yes, even sacred,
in the finest sense of that overburdened word,
so oft overemployed that
one man’s overburdened sacred
is another’s overworked profane

but sacred is sacred

at a level just above our collective reach,
is an aspiration, a respiration and exhalation,
we unconsciously try to time our breathing in coordination
with our surroundings,
grasping, gasping, grabbing
for understanding, micro-management of the minutest
current of water or air running contrary to the main current,
that we plunge willingly and willfully into

when we open our eyes
every morning
and confront a new array
of illusions, allusions
and conceive our own illustrations,
and paint our lives and every act
on a corner of fresh page of a giant, ponderous
tome
(or tomb, if you prefer)

I know you understand.

in a few hours, I will rise to
be confronted by chaos and challenges,
armed with bits of strings, tape and bows
to wrap them into a cohesion,
to present them to you,
insert them into your eddy,
and in the froth of poetic collision,
is our constancy of connectivity and breakage,
a perpetual reformation

so that we may
mind-bend into each other,
verifying our mutual dependency
and saying together,
out loud and silently

we exist,
we edit,
our eddies,
our overlapping lives,
in a never ending series
of Venn diagrams
all delicately balanced
at a single point,
forever transitory and reforming
our language of calculus
on a curve of constant change.
3:27 AM
Mon Sep 18
2023

with the kind permission of v V v
Wren Djinn Rain Sep 2015
You are present
you are present
you are science, philosophy, nature and hate
you are the tempest and conduit
you are the energy forming and reforming
you have the power
to choose, to do, you do

Then why am I losing faith?
Then why has it come to this
juncture, where light I found
is lost
Puncture my lungs, go ahead
because
You won't let me back inside
from the slippery precipice
Abyssal black night tide draws
closer

You won't lend to me the confidence
to enter, once again, the single
place I stand
Kite May 2013
Take me to the beach and tackle me in the waves,
kiss the salt on my skin, brush my bruises.
Bury my feet in sun soaked grains and hold me.
Teach me to surf, teach me to stand.
Run away from the cool reforming sea froth with me.
Quick, it's gonna get us!
Collect the shells and hide them with me.
Help me dig to China.

Build me a sandcastle, with a toothpick and seaweed flag.
Name it after me, let me live there with you.
Let it be surrounded by a moat dug into the sand with your palm so deep that murky water appears. Trace designs on the walls.
Add sea shells for decoration.
Protect it from the incoming tide by building walls of the dark sand you collect from closest to the water, we both know that it's the strongest sand on the beach.
Let's not give up our fight, we will keep building walls around this castle.
We can't let the tide take it, it is our place.
The sun will be getting lower, and the sea more violent.
It will try to break us, but we will dig our fingernails so deep into the mud resembling sand, continuing to slop it on top of our failing barricade to protect our castle.
This is our sand. Determination and desperation on our faces, we will try to push the ever nearing water away.  
The waves will become too much and our hands will be cut from grazing shells and our skin will be wrinkled from the water.
As the destruction crashes in and takes our castle, our sand,


carry me with you.
Wonthelimar, in the last transmigration that he planned from Nyons in the cavern on the eastern side of the Rhone, surrounded himself with mountains that dwarfed them with promiscuous caves of the Eygues. From these buckets as a margin of power and go referring to the nocturnal wind of the Pontias; created his fundamental tool of attraction of the Mementos de Cartography of the Seleucids, decomplexing the logistical notions of the Diadocos after having resuscitated and liberating Alexander the Great from a Cartesian Underworld in the manner of apocryphal late Aristotelianism, mechanizing existential dualisms of Hades with formulas and psychotropic and geometric tricks, licensing them theologies of habeas corpus, coexisting in the first instance with Etréstles de Kalavrita who would establish the term of definitive transmigration of Alexander the Great, so that between the Diadocos and Wonthelimar they would contend the final and disciplinary action to revoke the high arrest, transhuming the sovereign as Macedonian next to the Hexagonal Birthright finally very close to Saint John the Apostle and Vernarth in the vicinity of the Megaron Spilaion Apokalypseos.

The generals of Alexander the Great shared his legitimate Ark without royal titles, they were Perdiccas, Antipater, Craterus, Eumenes de Cardia, and others like the satraps who came to be proclaimed as kings; Antigonus, Ptolemy, and Seleucus. Residing the most substantial in this parapsychological saga in Vernarth; his brother Etrestles de Kalavrita who seconded and predestined his monolithic and constituent sovereignty of Polis, for the purpose of ruling and raising his Kopis and Xifos in the independence of aldehyde and alcoholic carbonyl residues emanated from the ferment of the Backhoi and Nepente, depositing LSD in substantial amounts. to align himself with Seleucus, and materially present himself in the sphere of Patmos as two representatives of both empires, one ancient Christian and the other Panhellenic, placing himself in that totalitarianism of Seleucus over that of Alexander the Great who was splendid in the cosmogony of a king similar to David of Judea, solvent and illustrious in the conception of Apological dynasty and identity, of Zeusian roots and of eternal numeral politics. In the quantitative of the champion of Alexander the Great revived on Patmos, the Mashiach of Gethsemane will continue to be deified with such a signature of both in ****** skies in two absolutist emperors and of dogmatic differential Pythagorean, propagandizing both dynasties with domains in regencies and different latitudes of the conceptual decision. Base, to refute proposals to follow them in part of anti-Alexandrian perplexities or opposed to marginalizing himself from following them after they abandoned him in Babylon. This was sensed in the confrontation between both forces of univocal polarization, for the good of one and the bad of the other of having to distract them from the proposal to enlist and harass dethroned kings on purpose from their deaths and revive them in others than in their own court of observers and bosses, they will only exist in the empty temples and idols without dates to know to avoid and in prevailing dates that will not happen.

Seleucus says: “Khaire my Commander…, unite the divine sanctuaries of Apollo, and take up the harangue of Tel Gomel with us disunited and lost by you. This dating will remain in the offices of reforming Macedonian armies and we will both command our generals in the Panhellenic dynasty, overall the heavenly armies that you will ever have here with fragile oracles confusing your divine blood! "

Wonthelimar, already manifesting from Nyons, lightened his Bucephalus bases, having a great somatic affinity with the bridles of Alexander the Great's steed, unraveling here a great mystery in his parapsychological regression directed from the cavern of Chauvet.

Wonthelimar says: “I have been confined with early Neolithic alloys, here I have dwelt livid among all your intrepid adventures channeling the axons and sketches of manifestations of superior cause and effect of correspondence of the ages and their Aeon and paleo-uncrossing precessions of you and your new death, from the Ardeche river together with Medea and Hypnos, among all of them being aerial, visionaries and northern lights who traveled to my redoubt to spray them in river waters, on the night of Agios San Ioannis. The gorges that swallow the seal of the Pontias, make rivers form with their name since the bulk of their waves of gusts are grandiloquent and robust like a gaseous river that becomes hydrological in larynxes where the wind is astonished when entering the concavity that it is wasted in its nature of time and qualitative content. Unusually I have been the progeny of organisms of rapture and cytological drama, in each one that is represented in these walls in which they are trapped next to me as tricks, and radiocarbon tricks by these vicissitudes, and of their actions that have dated my radiation of radioactive carbon in these caverns and so-called fourteen carbon spaces, for more than fifty million radiometric years. I lived here with my parents until as a child I stayed with my godmother, but one day my father did not return. From that moment on I became after the anticipated axial carbon, to keep myself as a torch in the caverns to see where no one was light but me, only of someone who was more than a dawn to illuminate what they wanted to know in my organic depressions, my trident of dating and carbon, by my parents and I in incisive philanthropy staining all the walls detesting the otherness that made me move towards a Wonthelimar; with dated apparitions and curtains that behind them always like gargoyles appeared before Hypnos, and then Medea, taking me as a child with her hands. When they left, I was left alone and patiently waited for them, when they did not return in the harsh winters they would send me Gerakis Falcons, to deal with your pain my lord Vernarth. In this field, I live, but now I am on my way to grasp the horns of the ibex, which took me to their lair with their goat colonies to give me milk and ursid ***** herbs that shielded me from a lethal genre, although not every day. Remain so. The lord that you will be now is the reflection of the bodyguard along with his ibex that will cordon off your rebirth after leaving the traces and rods of your bone marrow, spleen, and glandular that now belongs to me, to take you to the coldest waters that run inside me since the last ice age. The interference of the Diádocos tried to convince Alexander the Great, this is already a new rock piece to represent him in numismatics, walls, and ceramics in a predominant and complacent way of historical, shamanic record and of astonishing parapsychological fold that I have projected on the walls of Chauvet without your consent "

The new turn from Nyons to Patmos was one of the seizures and ecstatic agonies, for a former little prodigy boy and son of an Íbez and a Bucephalus named Wonthelmar, who comes to rescue the entelechies of someone who was an ignorant man who carried in his arms his divine death, without knowing that before she was eternal life waiting for her in the Katapausis, after building the Megaron and negotiating with Seleucus the evolutionary stylistics of the resurrected Alexander the Great in the flames of the candle enlisted in the night lanterns and united with Saint John the Theologian. Seleucus' talks will be one of the stubborn and ****** visits to persuade and catechize his major general, in periods that do not elapse in real-time, and that will be the fatal fate of his obstinacies because Vernarth was already a prodigal son of the Duoverso-Universe., whose basal was unparalleled in attacking their ideals and hegemonic settlements of the material of minimal cause and effect, a wonder of worthy to lean on invisible gods who at a great speed never seen before..., trafficked in front of every gap or shoulder of their destiny, wandering under a pendulum of a sword and under the support of the farmer, who held prey and meat between a lightning bolt and an elder that supports him, cushioning all earthly sufferings, even more coming out from the silence and the most hidden isolation of those who dare to release from the vaporous darkness of Chauvet, Wonthelimar, already forging paths and ups and downs from where no one comes or goes.
Metaphysic • Quamtum • Parapsychology • Regression
Nat Lipstadt Mar 2014
For Sia

wake up unscrubbed,
sleep still in the eyes,
dream crusted,
probably unaware, child,
that you are a poem
sleeping

when a little girl,
reverting, designing
real from dreams,
processing, reforming,
the dreams lusting
to be poems
to go awandering

no wonder you have
more first names
than the rest of the world
combined

who you gonna be
this day?
undecided?
a new name adopted?
why not...

did you think I didn't notice?

the degree of yours ungranted,
I favor most is the one
you
never take
unless given
but always only
offer all:
friend

escapade thy 'they' thru
their assorted flavors,
nose rings, tongue piercings,
take 'em all, on the train ride to

see Sia run
see Sia play
see Sia read

see Sia lead
her troupe known only to me as the
Sherwood Forest Baker Street Irregulars
on adventures all over the U.K.

someday you will get a degree
from Peter Pan in
all grown-up-ness,
settling down,
but I surely hope not,
for I will then be sadder,
way sadder than I am
even now,
a different generation man,
when
forgone, missing,
the little dream crusted girl
Rowan Darcy Nov 2015
Dancing,
            prancing,
                        spinning around,
Concern and sanity are nowhere to be found,
Spilling into music,
a river of eggs,
sound is reforming inside my head,
There's a hole in my skull,
my brain's leaking out,
stuffing it back in but I can't get out,
Turning and burning,
a feverish fright,
earning and yearning,
to last through the night.
Jess Rose Jan 2010
There once was a time
When a fool decided to create
The ant.
And so he bent over
And formed limbs out of
Twigs, out of earth,
A small shiny body
Out of berries and shells.

And the fool dragged these
Many parts around
Until it was the
Perfect aesthetic.
This small ant.

And the fool blew
A tiny wind
Into this body
And then watched
The ant stand, foolishly,
Watched the ant
Carry sticks and stones
Forming and reforming shapes,

Recreating his own creation.
Jill D Barker Apr 2016
Coiled, grey March –snow patches slow to disperse on the townscape -
trying to turn the year.
A grey plume drifts through the low sky, like smoke but not smoke,
slow to disperse
reforming and palping like a long streak of foam on the sea; a grubby bag
turning, plastic and drifting
dividing in the sky: a shifting exclamation mark pulls out of shape
turns pale to vanishing, is gone.  
A sound like pages riffling, like a thousand paper fans rustling, a darkening in the air
turning in the low light all together
wheeling , breaking, re-combining, stretching again.  Sky geometry.
Still that dry whisper-clustering
of many wings holding close formation, turning and swooping together.
The cloud is back, is gone, is back again – endlessly
The grey light feels unnaturally late
above the Eagle Rec
starlings are moulding shapes, most beautiful murmuration.
The complex maths of defence – stay close, stay close –
turn, wheel, stay close.
Against the pale dusk the moment stretches beyond bearing,
that high, remote plasticity floats on as the light hesitates
dragging out the turn towards darkness.
The hawk must be near, striking into the crowd -
spin, turn on a wing-tip, wheel close, divide and turn: with luck
she will take your neighbour.
The black bunched crowd drops as one, to roost, to rest.
Nat Lipstadt Sep 17
awas amidst
the bits and bobs of my pseudo-sleep,
check my watch oft habitually,
understand
that the precisive time is not
what I seek,

no,
what I desire is reassurance of
some sort, that time is present,
that it is
a measurable actuality in,

my about,
a breathable actuality
woven into my
Body’s  Constructional
Constitutional Cconsciousness


that time is there, here,
for it is rhe

wondrous of all wonder,
it is a
present of, from,
and,
is love itself,

love is time…
(think on it)

it is all and only
butpossibility,
the future in
slow mo
is both
realizable & visible ,
even some part knowable;
its somes & sums,
as we daily
practice realizing it,
as if
time is a
smuggler of snuggles,
comforting but not
for too long
like
a new lover’s
exploratory
beginning beguiling explanations
reforming our ardor
into
viability

or

a glove
asking us each:
slow s l i d e
your hand inside,
then,
newly commence
waving yours,
airy all about

conducting a new self
into your
precious moment of precarious
existence,
that we dare not waste!

so:
write and right
are no accident,
but purposed
equals,
friends,
brothers and sisters,
one and both
coexisting
at
in
the same time…
writ in the dark hours
when the watch
watches over me
9/17/24
Alessander Jul 2016
Your childhood dream
Your teenage dream
Your 20s dream
Your 30s dream
Your 40s dream
Your 50s dream

Measure them in decades
Transfixed before a distorted hall of mirrors

A cycling fun-house

While presidents come and go
Parachute pants, bomber jackets, bangs

When you’re drifting off to sleep
What feeling awakens in your heart?

What small feet run across your translucent landscapes
Cubists blocks of what might have been

Twisting , reforming…, parallax

Like Etcher in motion, Inception

Dark cities floating overhead while eclipses burn red

Do your hands tremble with rage or with despair?

Or do you lie perfectly still, resigned

Practicing for your casket

Selfies of your head sinking into starched pillows

You’re responsible now

Clerks and coroners pat you on the back

The least you can be is responsible

Hunting down dreams in dreary forests
With bow knives and bandanas

Is foolish

Better to fill out your W2s

Calculate your interest and help with homework

Don’t be selfish


Let others burning with madness, desire and discontent

Dream for you

Shape the future for you

Preferable to be content

An anti-pioneer   To Nest in paperclips and razors

Satisfied with consolation prizes, Ms. Congeniality

To sink silently down the toilet of trivialities
Floating listlessly like a ****
Flushed out into the polluted ocean of time

But let us not dwell on dreams

Let us drill, let us dance, let us down

Korean BBQ and snap-shot sunsets

Never mind the shadows swirling

Through you, deepening with every tock

Civilization calls  - You must be integrated.

Not like days of yore

On the hunt

But wrenched into a mechanical maelstrom

Input into a coded vision

An alien incubator zooming through metallic tubes


You are an app

Of Aborted dreams

Of pragmatic passiveness
  

Fingered by millions of strangers

To **** time and hope
whatever comes to mind

#
Ryan Holden Jun 2017
1st Verse/16 Bars
I'm trying to earn more pennies to mark me a moment in life,
A moment in time, I should probably drop this razor sharp knife,
I need to Push forward through this crowd of confusion,
But your in delusion with these rhymes that I'm using and abusing
Cos I'm confusing, consuming, choosing and amusing myself,
refusing so I'm producing more tracks for consuming and wealth,
Snapping your neck at every single beat, whilst you're tapping your feet,
So all  sit back with some popcorn you're in for a much needed treat,
I ponder and wander in my mind sometimes as I see painted pictures,
when I paint I find a story or a rhyme using these triggers,
Whilst I play with words that take years to carve and curve,
something harder to learn and yearn into something much more worth,
More to you than me so my life had, meaning from my birth,
Ripping up turf, trying to find words beneath the core of earth,
So I rap in metaphoric tongue because I'm using poetic justice,
you're frowned from above whilst you try master and craft this.

(Chorus 1)
In order to survive,
Do all you can in life,
Make yourself feel alive,
In order to survive.

(2nd Verse/14 bars)
I use a form of speech that frees the soul to reach your own goal,
so you won't be buried inside you'll confide in deep parts using coal,
to set fire to bars you spit, ripping and fitting every single hole,
Whilst I rap I'm reforming and morphing them into some sort of mold,
Because while I'm hitting, n knitting bars like threads and then sowing,
the lawn whilst I'm mowing n showing people I'm always growing,
in capacity and trying to shove off some of the animosity,
the world's in atrocity whilst I'm producing I feel it subconsciously,
As we would say in Great Britain would you like a cup of Rosie Lee
and then In France they say no musketeers without the three,
but I found me as I perfect and refine every single line,
lyrics so evil I'll be committing a grade A crime,
in time for these dimes to drop without single a fine,
Lyrics so sour you may as well **** a lime.

(Chorus 2)
In order to survive,
Do all you can in life,
Make yourself feel alive,
Find a future or wife,

(3rd Verse/14bars)
I can rap like I'm insane but other rappers are plain,
No strawberry or chocolate just vanilla milkshake,
I dream of crowds shouting my name not in vain,
Because within this ink I'm pouring my soul through pain,
Razor, scissors and chainsaws will cut you all the same,
Like these lines that will cut you up whilst I'm in the game,
i hope you realise but this whole rap is one big metaphor,
A rise to the fame and all the glory comes with downpour,
Crying so hard he might flood the whole ground floor,
Biting so hard into the rap hes got lockjaw,
I hope my next song will be featuring someone who killed a
situation to diffuse the rhyme from the bigger picture,
I'm Slitting my veins to bleed and produce on this page,
trying to push and pull salary above the minimum wage.

(Chorus 1x2)
My next rap I wanted to play with it a little. With some detailed rhyme schemes. It's not finished yet but I hope you like the roughs. Audio to come soon :) (Try rapping it to a "boom bap" beat ;)
Kasandra Curtis Aug 2012
My love for you,
Slips beyond the bounds of this earth,
Coating every inch, of every acre of land
Your feet might tread,
Before ascending to the heavens
To merge with your love
Amidst the wonders of the kosmos.

We dance upon the moon,
Bouncing and twirling,
But we don't tarry.
We blast off
And crash down on Mars.
And we lie together
Upon the cold red sands,
Let the wind whip past,
Spraying us with tiny particles.
Then we will smash right through the asteroid belt,
Bashing through anything that crosses our path.
We will watch the billion year storms of Jupiter,
Roiling and churning in magnificent patterns,
As we hold hands, and ice skate, on the surface of Europa,
Gliding together, in the kaleidoscopic light.
Off to Enceladus we will fly,
To witness the boiling geysers,
And watch as the scalding fluid turns to snow,
Adding a shower of sparkling crystals
To Saturn's brilliant rings.
We'll Swim in the methane sea's of Titan,
And kiss in the clouds, as we ride the storm currents.
Then we'll end our evening
On the surface of Triton,
And make love beneath the planetary glow,
Of the blue and white marble of Neptune,
Lighting our passionate embrace,
With a dim azure radiance.
The red of our lust combines,
And a purple luminescence releases from the surface,
As pulsing rhythm increases,
And we explode into one billion beams of light.

Reforming as we hurtle back
To earth, to our bodies,
To our bed, to our love, to us.

Earth, Bodies, Bed, Love, Us...

All the wondrous sights and sensations of the universe,
Are but minor miracles, compared to these five things.
K Mae Jul 2013
sharing heart presence
speaking through dreamspace
voices uplifting exploring we glide
trusting connection beyond salutation
template reforming our flow is our guide
time only essence no pendulum weighted
pathways emerge as we spark from inside
receiving dreams as we birth in communion
manifest bounty with joyful shared pride
Kopter Zero May 2014
A tingle up and down,
Sometimes,
A spark,
In love and life.

A fleeting sensation,
Dissolving and
Reforming,
Fixing,
Reconstituting.

Uniting, and
Igniting.

— The End —