"responsibly" poems
Hark! Take heed, for this cake be both mighty and magnificent!
1.75 cups flour
2 cups white sugar
2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
0.75 cups unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tsp. salt
2 eggs
1 cup (as in 8 fl.oz/250mL.) strongly brewed coffee (make more and drink it!)
1 cup buttermilk (or 1 tbs. white vinegar+1 cup milk mixed well, blah blah)
0.5 cups cocoanut oil (or 0.33 cups basicallywhatever oil), a little less if ***
1 tsp. vanilla extract
OPTIONAL:
2-3 shots (60-90mL; 0.2-0.33 cups) black spiced *** (Kraken, if at all possible)
I also want to experiment with whiskey/burbon.. if you try it, let me know!
--Flour, sugar cocoa powder, baking soda+powder, salt mixed in one bowl
-- eggs, coffee, *** buttermilk, oil, vanilla in another
Slowly mix the dry into the wet until as homogenous as possible.
I use an 8"x8" (20cmx20cm) pan @350F (175 C) for about 40 minutes, but I check on it at round 30 minutes because some variance may well apply. If you use olive oil, or avocado oil, or whatever other more fluid oil, I find a slightly hotter oven (375 F/190 C) can be advisable, but pay attention to your specific scenario! The worst that's happened for me is the top gets a bit crusty, but that pleasantly works with the overall moisture of the cake, especially with olive oil and the *** addition.
Do the toothpick test to see if it's ready!
Frosting is applicable, as well, because this Magical Cake is not horribly sweet for how horribly sweet it sure is. I usually just sprinkle some confectioner's sugar on it to make it look all fancy for my classy friends and band-mates.
ENJOY!
Bake responsibly, but have some fun.
Also, suffer the decimals!
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC
hill
ant hill
an ant hill
a perfect ant hill
a perfect ant hill it was
a perfect anthill erected
a perfect ant hill erected at will
by ants and ants and army of disciplined ants.
ants of many kinds, sizes and colors erected an ant hill
the design was grand, nice to look at like a cathedral,functional.
we love the ants for being so versatile,co-operative and creative
Do ants possess minds, ability to think,organize, put decisions in to actions?Or do they just have an instinct,prompted by nature, how do they receive it?Even if we are yet to find out such secrets,many of us are skeptics."All this is like the crawling leaches, inscribing letters on smooth surfaces, inadvertently" they vehemently argue.And there remains the million dollar question,seeking answer:even tiny ants,could make millions of their ilk do amazing things, why oh! why, the most intelligent of living things, at least replicate the feats the community of ants, at a scale, proportionate ?If these disciplined insects, in spite of their small brains could be a great example, why can't human's be like them, behave more responsibly , take charge of their own destiny, construct, not destroy. Every ant hill in silence, asks us many questions, we walk past pretending that we heard nothing, that could disturb our peace.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 8:31 AM UTC
Joe without his legs
Wheelchair, bedside G.I.
At a meeting
Ruminating and feeling
It’s like A.A.
Rehabilitation games
The system plays War
Craft with missing halves
PTSD R e s p e c t
That ain’t the half
Of the stink and the taint
Sniffing glue
Replacing chipped paint
Joe only worries
If there’s somewheres
To be
After rehab
Need a Lyft Uber quick
Downtown a ton to do
Joe worries arriving in 12 steps
Sponsor anonymously
Befriend responsibly
Joe worries
Like long time buds
His legs
That they won’t work
Like they did back when
He got laid
And was paid
By way of Vietnam
And ****** Uncle Sam.
Joe worries
Of wheelchair accesses
His favorite places without
Doors he’d like to
Fit in
And go on
Normally
Accepted
To be loved like a brother
That no one knew
And no one seems or cares to
Joe feels like
A third wheel
A phantom limb
Who’s bucket list is to
“Invest in the Google”
“Learn how to use
The cloud”
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 1:50 PM UTC
Love is too amazing
For anyone
To be sorta loved
If you’re
Going to reach for
The heart , I would
Hope that you use
Both hands
For
The heart is never a thing
To be taken lightly
Don’t try
Grabbing it with one hand
While
Holding on
To someone else’s
Heart
Never to embrace
The new
While holding on To
The old
Remember
Love isn’t love
Until
It moves beyond
Words
Action is everything
If you truly want
To be
In someone’s
Life
You will create the best
Possible
Way to get there
For
We all deserve a
Consistent kind
Of
Love
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 6:15 PM UTC
Prologue: People have their own sneezes and that is surely fine, but you need these top-notch instructions for a faultless sneeze. I will instruct you on the fine art of how to make everyone in the room feel badly for not saying "Bless you!" You will find the results of your new sneeze to be utterly awesome. People will enjoy hearing you sneeze and wonder how you perfected such a basic human function. You will love your "after" sneeze and wonder how you could ever live with your "before" sneeze. Be an "after" and stay an "after!"
STEP 1: Start by breathing heavily. Gasp for air, inhale deeply. Don't make your peers think you are merely snorfling. Don't make them think you're some kind of schmuck. You want to sneeze like royalty. Take in that breath and inhale proudly.
STEP 2: Rise a little, maybe even stand up, to open up the lungs.
STEP 3: Let it loose, make it loud and sneeze with gusto. Make your sneeze noticeable to otherwise oblivious teachers who only notice wrong answers and very obvious text messaging during class time. Make your sneeze a TRUE distraction.
STEP 4 : Before anyone says a thing, bless yourself as if no one is there, as if you were in your room all alone int he dark of the shadows where the sound of the bed creaking scares you half to death. Where the thing under your bed says means things to you while you try to drift off to sleep--where loneliness and death meet and...sorry. I got carried away. To recap step four, talk to yourself. Refer to suggestions below*.
STEP 5: If no one speaks, begin to cry. Moan and wail. Wonder aloud why no one takes the moment to wish you well in your time of need.
IN CONCLUSION: If none of this works to gain you attention, the blow me down and call me Sally. It's time to choose new classmates. By golly, they must be the most putrid thing any baby spit up if they don't' stop for a second and wish you a very bless-ed life from here on out.
*SUGGESTIONS BELOW:
"Achoo! Excuse me, bless me."
"Hachoooo! Gesundheit."
"Achew! Bless my soul."
Warning: Sneezes have been known to spread disease. Sneeze responsibly!
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 2:51 AM UTC
I could've sworn I saw a younger version of you
going in the opposite direction on High Street
I wanted to stop and say something
But I had to die a gruesome death
It's just that you looked like the edition of you
I'm ashamed to have tainted
And we've been down this road before...
Like the time we saw that guy hit that telephone pole
I knelt in the muck with a stranger in my arms
His fleeting life transfixed me to his world
But once life returned
My interest was gone
Similar to the time I saw that fox dying in the street
I left the solitude of my car to gaze into it's primal eyes
Without communication
All we could do was cry together
I couldn't decide whether to **** it or care for it
So I did neither
And just drove off
I understand it may seem cowardly
But the thought of it living and continuing
to suffer and survive was too beautiful
And the thought of responsibly nurturing it was too repellent
Not to mention those things can be dangerous
no matter how small they appear
I guess what I'm saying is bad things happen when I leave my car
Usually, I drive with the windows up and the doors locked
Loneliness fills the cabin
I opened my doors but nobody entered
Only tears filled the cabin
They cascaded out onto the road
Forming ice in the subzero winds
I lost all control
And just before I crashed
I could've sworn I saw a younger version of you
going in the opposite direction on High Street
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 5:20 PM UTC
Seeking
to complain,
't'is found.
Seeking
to compliment,
't'is found.
Such
is a reflection
of the power
of attention
and intention.
'T'is beseeched:
use responsibly.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC
strangely, I think that this
ought be, must be, responsibly,
be the best poem I’ve ever writ,
(though unlikely, as the best will always be the next)
that mine own eyes commissioned,
better be,
just got to be,
this holy-moly notion jeepers weepers,
conceptual rocks me deepest,
an awesome responsibility
to find away of saying
that this beyond conceptual,
coring, especially special sample
If there was to be a but one,
a singularity, a distinguishing feature
of what the human definition
innate contains,
how choice that we animals,
elevate ourselves to being human beings,
the only ones capable of wonderfully weeping
the implications are an astounding!
what a glorious burden,
what a wonderful decision,
the designer slipped in this microscopic checkmark,
somewhere in our cellular DNA perma-dynasty,
runs a common thread, these saltwater fears,
a residual global amniotic fluid hint,
from where we humans out-of-crawled
that empathy,
the signal of an elongated journey of eons,
the marker that says
show the caring,
a trait-ed statement,
us, unique
so often do I weep,
sometimes visible - in my poems listed, oft indicated -
so you could know its sharing was an absolution
that I granted myself,
that that particular poem was a costly one,
womb bloomed, tongue taken, eye written
sometimes invisible - even more, do they,
(nobody knows, nobody sees)
just well up, eye cornered kept, secreted,
only skin-staining the underneath-my-eyes
one more shade darker,
a reminder to all, to mirrored me,
that to forgive myself doesn’t
forgive forgetting
is this then my best?
sufficient to breech your
reserves of pseudo-cool,
that correct boundary pretense that keeps us as
mismatched separates?
you be the judge, you be the jury,
you be the prosecutor and the defender,
for it is all of us
standing in the dock,
on trial,
for in our lifetime
guilty of the inhuman crime,
of not crying enough
Jun 27, 2019
Jun 27, 2019 at 7:15 PM UTC
Hidden in the grey morass out there amidst your workforce
Are Pearls in a lattice work of intricate disguise.
Gems of enlightenment and soldiers of conscience
Who battle with adversities’ regressive, shut eyes.
Clad in the rigging of everyday costume
Hidden to all but the discerning few,
Seeing the gold of the extra steps taken,
And observing initiatives made there for you.
Gold in the form of an everyday worker
One who excels far above average way,
Unrewarded and unacknowledged
Responsibly shouldering this all in his day.
Towering over the mass mediocrity
Holding the strands of a mess of loose ends,
Always dependable, doggedly purposeful
Easily marked as definitive friend.
Driven by his own hard volition
In striving for that extra won mile,
True champion of mans’ Endeavour
Unheralded in his own low profile.
The movers and the shakers all
Fly their flags of self acclaim
But the Pearls of the Unobvious
Shall be this nations’ future fame.
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
24 November 2010
Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 2:44 PM UTC
She made you her priority
all she wanted was your honesty
you could have also shown your loyalty
but you missed the opportunity
now she's gone for good for treating her so ******
the girl just wanted a little consistency
could have been more heartily
boy all you showed was just atrocity
and you thinking it was some sort of comedy?
that girl has no more patience and generosity
at least what you could do is give her an apology
treat her more equally
act more responsibly
show her some harmony
stop showing her hypocrisy
and maybe, possibly
she'll considerably
forgive you for your cruelty
but this time, treat her more like royalty
she'll be yours significantly
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 3:12 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Got a fetish for **** ups ,
Illustration,
I drew pictures for the body and the soul,
Cooperation,
Drinking responsibly,
While driving on the coast of south Daytona,
Find it ever so hard to believe,
Now I'm lost I'm translation,
Feeling lustful today,
Feeling lustful today,
I swear I'll tell you anything and you'll believe it
It's like sending a message I just can't receive it,
losing your virginity and feelings happen
thinking of something worth while but also think less of it,
But what happen ?
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 5:04 PM UTC
We sat on the carpet in the bedroom
and I pulled between us that family heirloom,
a sea chest belonging, at one point, to some
grandfather or another, and we began
an apparently curtailed version
of the usual routine.
I wondered if that meant dire things
for my fate; as if all the events of my life
would be half as eventful, or if
there would be half as many of them, God forbid.
I can’t recall a particular atmosphere,
except that it was dim, and I guess
the old sea chest contributed
a bit of worn charm. And that same afternoon
I did burn some incense, but it could barely be smelled.
She asked, occasionally, for my involvement.
Tap one of these. Lay your hand on that.
And, uniquely in my life, I got the semblance
of controlling my destiny.
Soon enough, a picture began to form.
The five of cups: miserliness, a bearded man dressed royally,
alone atop a treasure trove, his children and former lovers
elsewhere, in loving penury, without a thought
for dear old stingy dad. The two of swords: some duality
out of the past, a war - always - between reason and love, and
how much I cherished them both. An awkward young man
who loved casually, without forethought and almost
without reason, and the brain he was far too proud of having
to use responsibly.
Finally, we reach the one in the center, and once again
I am required to invest some of myself in this card.
I hold my hand on it and am asked to imagine what it might be.
It is the Hermit. Her favorite, she explains.
He means a journey, alone. How alone, exactly?
Under normal circumstances, alone is a metaphor.
One can be alone in spirit, being not understood.
But you and I have been having arguments, and so
the implication is not lost on me.
How alone? And what journey? And to what end?
I imagine them, these arcana,
major and minor. They are collected
around a coffee table, for their weekly tea.
The Hermit holds up a pair of worn sandals
and a volume of sad amateur poetry -
the price of certain journeys -
the Lovers, their backs turned to one another,
produce a pitiful summary of a joint bank account.
The High Priestess takes from her tea cabinet
a samovar full of old dried blood, and pressed flowers
(lilies and lovers’ thistles)
and they all laugh and laugh and laugh
because they are not mortal, like us.
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 1:05 PM UTC
Life is a drug so ingest responsibly.
Absorb the colors, the sounds,
the world around,
the sights, the smells,
experience galore
because when you get old
that is what you will remember.
Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 8:53 PM UTC
THE BLOOD
YOU DON’T SEE
IS FAKE
http://www.lulu.com/shop/barton-smock/the-blood-you-dont-see-is-fake/paperback/product-21206799.html;jsessionid=6D1872B449D8B58E2A7F503E518273FD
new and selected poems / Barton Smock / September 2013
from self published collections:
mating rituals of the responsibly poor
Ahistoric
Aggressive Kin
Hallelujah Lip-Synch
in the asylum we’d sun ourselves with angels
all available at
http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/acolyteroad
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 4:30 PM UTC
What should I say to cold callers?
"Not interested thank you "
"Yes, that is my name "
"No, actually my computer isn't broken "
"I think you need electrocution lessons, I can hardly understand you."
Or maybe I'll try this;
Mario, we had a deal now Mario
We shook hands ain't that right?
Meet me on the bridge my friend
Same time alone tonight
Bring the dough now Mario
You gotta pay your debt
I'm like that elephant you know
The one who don't forget
I got you covered Mario
I know your family
You gotta learn how to behave
Act responsibly
We're nearly brothers Mario
We share some blood I guess
So let's not spill it over this
Let's clear up this mess
click
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 10:32 AM UTC
You said, “Ask me what I am thinking”
Obediently I did
Swiftly you kissed me
Tongue, lips, all of it.
And suddenly,
I felt
E v e r y t h i n g.
Chills up my spine
Arm hair raised
Stiff and straight
Senses heightened
Heart beating
Stampeding
Like a band of thoroughbreds racing.
Intense sensations
Swarms of tingling and tickling
Like someone softly blowing
On the back of my naked neck.
A shock wave of pleasure
Feelings immeasurable
To anything I’ve experienced.
This was no ordinary kiss
Warm, gentle, firm
Just enough wetness
To keep motion fluid.
Lasting only 10 seconds
But feeling endless
Like falling into an abyss
A bottomless pit
Deeper and deeper
Rapidly dropping
Picking up speed
Until your hands released my cheeks
And all the warmth left me.
Overtaken by an icy breeze
Compared to the heat I was just feeling.
Like pulling covers abruptly off a body
While in the middle of a slumber.
I never liked the feelings of being stripped
Unwillingly, unexpectedly
Especially
When the everything was so inviting.
You kissed me without permission
Then the position I was put in
Decisions I had to make quickly after
Because what I say now
Outlines our future
Defines our label
Of each other.
You put that pressure
Onto me
I wanted nothing of that responsibly
At least not to that degree
Don’t ask that to me
To state what I think we should be.
10 seconds ago
I only asked what you were thinking
I was unaware,
Completely unprepared
To know I would be deciding
The fate of our relationship
This now sinking ship.
I can swim
But I feel like I'm sinking
Having to live with the dreadful feeling
I’ve hurt another person again.
I got to be the lead
As I’d always dreamed
I never expected my role to be
Heart Breaker.
I want to go along with it,
Put up with the charades
Be the good actress
And pretend things didn't change
Say for your sake
I feel the same way.
But for this show to go on
For my role to be authentic
I must be honest.
I guess some friendships expire…
Even the best shows don't last forever
Enjoy the run for what it was
And say goodbye
Because it’s for the better.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 12:16 AM UTC
I am holding myself accountable
For now, but not always
There's times when I should have
been the first to say I'm sorry
Of course we all have those times.
We must all have those times.
To err, to caution, to be human
Questioning if you said or did
What was right, most kind
The best possible actions
Achieving the most perfect outcome
But I cannot hold myself hostage
To reckoning with perfection
Nor can anyone else reasonably
****** me upon such a pedestal
and expect me to preform
my best, most absolute
unconditional, unequivocal
gestures of good faith
If they have not made themselves
Stand tall in such high places
Responsibly bearing the weight
Of being incorruptible to errors
I allow myself to look within
And search for the answers
As to why there's always this desire
To be something more than
The accumulation of cells and dust
That surrounds my innermost self
It seems like finding answers
Will have to start with asking questions
As to why I am the way I am
Right here in the now.
If I can shape myself into anything,
more than or less than
what I already am right now
How can I ever truly be myself?
How to begin knowing myself
If it was never really clear as to
what my self was to begin with?
Where is the source of who I am?
What I am? How I am, and why?
What happens if I stripped away
All that I am and put the pieces
back together in a different way?
Would I become someone else,
or something else entirely?
I have always wondered
If wondering will be good enough
In search of the answers
In search of the miraculous
An inner earth within the earth
which I heard only
existed in pages of a book
Written in the sand
A very long time ago
If you looked into yourself
and saw a mirror reflecting
the parts of other people
you either hated or loved,
Could you continue to look
at yourself when others called on you
and honestly say to them,
"Look, I am what I've become"?
Oct 20, 2022
Oct 20, 2022 at 3:49 AM UTC
They thunder their engines,
and the noises chases dogs,
out of their own skin,
our canine friends hear the sound
long before it arrives,
from tail to nose feel the sound,
long after it leaves.
Storm clouds with thunder,
and some motorcycles carry
sound in full HD. Too bad,
they don't hear like the dog does,
then their hearing wouldn't be
as it once was.
Remember please ride responsibly
like you were a dog, even if your ride a hog.
©ClemC072013
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 1:34 AM UTC
So it’s about half ten
And my then friend, Ben
Is walking with me to the shops.
We chat **** about lit
As we’re acquainted through college.
So together we’re relatively
Secure in the knowledge
That at least we can agree
On poetry.
As I flip my wrist
To look at my watch
I turn back to notice
That Ben has stopped.
He’s gazing amazed at
An open front door
That’s bustling with boozers
And music that soars.
“Let’s crash it!” Ben demands
Like the house party fascist that he is,
But I have to admit
That my state was somewhat ufit
To be called ‘responsibly sober.’
So with a heavy eyed grin
I say “OK, let’s go in”
And together we both wander over.
As we move through the ranks
Of the bodies that flank us,
Past the guy with a guitar,
That we could hear from afar,
And the girl who sits just there by the wall,
Twirls her hair whilst absently staring
Into a beer,
We stumble upon the kitchen.
Here the music is nearer
And after an hour passes,
Along with some clear glasses
Of spirits and wine,
We think we’re fine
But then, it suddenly hits me.
We’re crashers, I remember
And as if our agenda was destined to fail,
We would now have to bail,
As just when we make a mission
Out of appearing exempt from suspicion
As if by intuition, some bloke asks casually:
“So how do you guys know Dave then?”
Ben decides to aid by looking artfully away
Whilst scratching his *****
So it seems to me
That the responsibility falls…
“Dave!” I say, looking absently away,
“We go way back make man,
Holidays in Cornwall and that,
Y’know, caravans?”
The bloke goes away,
Presumably in search
Of the mysterious Dave,
And so I turn to Ben and say “Go mate!
We’ve been made!”
We bolt for the door past the prep lads,
The muso and a chap on the floor,
Ben’s grabbing bottles and **** as he goes,
When I hear a voice ask aloud
“Hey Dave do you know those two?”
Hiding our faces we pick up the pace,
Pushing our way to a tidy escape.
We burst out the door and onto the street,
Finding it hard to stay firm on our feet.
Despite getting myself caught on the garden gate,
It has to be said,
Best party to date.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 1:31 PM UTC
I swim along.
Along with all the others.
Fins that are not as vibrant.
A tail a bit askew.
No point.
No point in
taking interest in other fish.
We don't do that,
not down here.
We swim.
Those hooks,
they taunt us.
We bite.
No one hears
our cries of pain.
Even the others.
We don't respect much,
not down here.
We swim.
We're not very
quick
clever.
Just responsive,
and not responsibly so.
We
just
swim.
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 3:32 PM UTC
It seems most today are slightly confused on what actual talent is. As if word salad hastily tossed, with no seasoning or meaning, is equaling executive chef statuses. But that's just the mainstream line of thinking when it comes to social media marketing. Try to sound the most rehearsed and well-versed with big words describing nothing, and suddenly selfies with weak captions happen to bring out followers abundantly. This is just an observation...but a "cool" background is not a substitute for true use of tools for this vocation. Objectively speaking...there's more "photoshop poets" violating the "do's and don'ts" with candid pics accompanied with words of which they don't even know the meaning. Just saying. This theme is repeating. And it's annoying. Write thoughtfully...and responsibly.
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 3:30 PM UTC
THE HALL WAS PACKED WITH EVERYONE DOING THEIR DUTY,
PEOPLE FIDGETING, WIPING GRIT FROM THEIR EYES,
CHILDREN RESTLESS, LATECOMERS FINDING A SEAT,
THE PRIEST DRONED ON, A COUGH WAS INDISCREET;
A STRANGER DRESSED IN WHITE WALKED THE AISLE,
LIKE A PRISONER MOVING ALONG THE GREEN MILE,
HE APPROACHED THE ROSTRUM AND TURNED AROUND,
ALL OF A SUDDEN THERE WAS ABSOLUTELY NO SOUND,
THE MINISTER CONTINUED AS THO' PART OF A PLAY,
HE SAID THAT WE MUST LEAD OUR LIVES RESPONSIBLY,
LOVE THY NEIGHBOUR, DO AS YOU WOULD DO UNTO OTHERS,
THE MAN IN WHITE HAD THE WORLD'S PROBLEMS ON HIS SHOULDERS,
WE KNEW THEN THAT WE MUST DO WHAT THE SERMON HAD TOLD US.
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 1:44 PM UTC
Mass shootings of morality
Guns make the man
Massacre happily
Ignorance leading the blind
Another casualty
Johnny has issues but he’s got an AR15
Arm everyone!
(EUREKA!!!)
Because more guns are just what we need!!!!!
Who gives a **** about Johnny and his mental instability
He’s got a gun!
It’s semi-automatic
That’s all he’ll ever need
Semi-automatic
Everyone will bleed
A few hundred rounds
He kills responsibly
A few hundred rounds
Watch as the children bleed
Just another day in America
How many more guns do we need?
Aug 5, 2023
Aug 5, 2023 at 10:40 PM UTC