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Heidi Shavill May 2013
The Songbird

Are you broken-hearted?  Mend it with a song.
Sing one retaliating against how you’ve been done wrong,
Songbird your voice draws goose bumps, and tears.
Sing out loud using only your deepest wounds, and fears.
Sing by heart, be confident and proud
Sing in the shower, to yourself, or bravely to a crowd.
Lullaby yourself to sleep,
With soothing songs much peace you’ll reap.
Strong and beautiful, this voice in me
Soulful anguish will set you free
When expelled from your spirit lyrically.
Sing a song of sorrow for the little one inside,
For she remains twisted from insanity, still cutting, deprived.
Sing one jubilantly, of sunflowers and frogs
Then laugh so hard it hurts your sides until giggles become sobs.
Don’t be afraid to sing one hymn along with me,
About how life endured, strengthens our melody.
Whether acappella, country or the blues,
Let your raw emotion be the one to choose
Notice how we pick the songs that strum our broken hearts
It's only through revealing pain, that the healing starts.

Heidi Shavill
2013
jacky Jul 2015
i can't stop it.
an addiction. i'm an addict.
no self discipline, no control
my hands, my fingers keep returning
and returning on
my chapped lips

it began last week. cold day,
caught a cold. breathing through my mouth.
sick and dry
dry lips.
there's an itch on my finger, i began to touch
my chapped lips

i thought it was a one time thing,
something reversible, something stoppable.
i was wrong, i was dumb, i was so wrong.
when my fingers stopped retaliating the blood,
it, the addiction, turned my teeth onto warriors
on the scrimmage on
my chapped lips

one night, i stopped
in the morning it was worse.
a wound hasn't healed, and another
on top of it. skin and flesh, on a rotating schedule
i'm scared but i don't stop. i'm scared
but my body just turned its back on
my chapped lips.

nothing has changed. blood and wound
scar and then wound,
i haven't stopped. and now i'm not scared.
i thought, i'm good at healing.
so, my chapped lips

will stay. scars may come,
but it's just my lips.
nothing good
has ever touched
my chapped lips.
a quick one. i hope you get the metaphor and the message i am trying to send (wink). // if you ever want to talk - hit me up! It'll be great to talk to someone from here. Thanks!
Aaron LaLux Jun 2017
London Bridge Is Falling Down

“London Bridge is falling down,
falling down falling down,
London Bridge is falling down,
my fair lady.”,

nursery rhymes,
don’t seem to sound the same anymore,
times,
are changing like the changing of the guard,

another terrorist attack today,
as hatred continues spreads like a disease,
the Devil’s in the details see 3/6 was the date,
and 6 killed wait 3 6 6 must be the mark of The Beast,

and they say the 6 were innocent,
but no one is innocent,
and I’m sorry I’m not sorry,
I mean what I said,

and this isn’t to disrespect the dead,
or the loved ones they left behind,
because we all have people that love us,
and we all mourn when someone we love dies,

so no I don’t mean any offense,
I’m just trying to get you to see the big picture,
thousands of civilians have been killed in Syria and Iraq,
by UK and US coalition forces,

but where’s the outrage on that,
there is none we all just  stay silent,
we go out to bars and party like it’s 1999 2 years before 9/11,
but Prince is dead as is MJ and no one’s saying stop the violence,

and no man is an island,
just like no one is innocent,
one side just has more money to **** with,
that’s the only difference,

and please don’t take this the wrong way,
I mean I am just as guilty as the rest,
I am a white American male,
I am an unapologetic NWO Capitalist,

I love the system,
and I reap it’s benefits,
but I know where my tax dollars go,
and that’s to bombs and jets,

have you heard enough yet,
are you ready to accuse me of being insensitive,
that’s fine throw your stones,
blame me for the hatred because we all need an enemy,

we all want to point the finger elsewhere,
no one wants to blame themselves,
but I tell you what dropping more bombs,
or retaliating in any way isn’t going to help,

and this is a warning to the terrorist too,
you keep attacking us we're gonna keep bombing you,
and we do keep bombing them but it hasn't helped yet,
I mean how do you threaten someone with nothing to lose?

How do you threaten someone with nothing to lose,
how do we stop the cycle of violence by being violent,
extremism isn’t the root cause it’s just the symptom,
terrorism didn’t start with ISIS,

I just,
want world peace nothing less nothing more,
Jesus,
it seems we’ve seen this all before,

Egyptian,
Roman Persian British,
I’ll tell you again,
no one is innocent,

and I’m as scared as anyone,
because I know it’s only a matter of time,
our Empire’s moment of truth is coming,
like the punchline in a nursery rhyme,

and nursery rhymes,
don’t seem to sound the same anymore,
times,
are changing like the changing of the guard,

“London Bridge is falling down,
falling down falling down,
London Bridge is falling down,
my fair lady.”…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

www.amazon.com/Aaron-La-Lux/e/B00ODPJAOK
JS CARIE Nov 2018
You're afraid if you come near me I'll hurt you
But you've been hurt by me before
and always asked for more
Every urge you felt,
when you got those passionate aches
We found a place to strip our wares
And feed each other what we had coming
lustful dynamic by way of accommodate
Like a 90s pop song you'd say my name
While accenting your "Oh's"
and trailing off the "****"
These were signed, squealed, and notoriously us
From the first time I took off your shirt
Slid your bra down over your shoulder
My vision of your ******* came through in X-ray dirt
Taking away breath in a choking hurt
And that's why you won't come near me
Mentally comparing the moans injected into you sweetly and severely, that made you climb up on top of me with retaliating energy
To
The groans of settled lethargy
So I send to you,
Vibrations of heated vitality,
to knock at my door and I'll meet you on the stairs
If you were hoping to see the bedroom
You'll find all the sliding wetness you seek on those stairs
As I once again remove your wares,
You open wide after I spin you around, upside
Continuously kissing your pink
in the moon shone glare
*** lust passion pain love
Jake Spacey Mar 2013
akin to sewer grates
seeping toxic gas,
a friend to deadly smog,
and bad attitudes,
a product of waste,
between holes in the lime sandstone
occasionally silenced by
commuting feet, disparaging
their accidental charity,
retaliating with lethal fluid
those feet then fleet from,
all the while wondering why they
can't bear the stench
my sister
Lydia Sep 2018
I still find myself hurting over things that have been done to me in the past
things that have been said or directly wronged me to the point of heavy sobs and torrential downpours of tears
and everyone always said to not let it get to me because these people aren't my real friends, I am better than them by not retaliating or they are just miserable, so they have to take their hate for themselves out on others
but
how do I really let go, if I'm left with an emotional scar of how I was treated and how some people I care about didn't defend me like I needed?
now I treat people I meet for the first time differently because I'm skeptical of everyone now
I only feel like they do not have good intentions and are only capable of being hateful and judging me
or hurting me
I was so beaten down to the point that I wondered why I was here
why I wasn't good enough
why I even tried everyday
that kind of mental brutality can really take a toll on a person
Most of all, I am hurt that from now on or for a very long time,
I don't see the good in people anymore
I used to believe people were truly good,
we just all make mistakes
but now I just think this world has turned into a pretty awful place
Sam Temple Jan 2016
flashes of the past crash into my mass
blasted and scratched, hide chapped,
I clap and shout at the memory
I approve of myself –
Old images of self-worth re-birth
And my fading girth is better for the earth
Large ***** pass gasses collapsing the greenhouse, but
I approve of myself –
Internal health and immeasurable wealth
As if the Delphi oracle imparted me
with love for self
growing stealth
with approval of myself –
affirmation nation retaliating against
infatuation with concentration camp
regurgitation
my patience wears thin and yet still
I approve of myself –
Granting panic stricken epidemic victims
Injections of insulin and bicarbonate soda
So the right wing harm bringers
Will no longer harbinger orangutans
Oh! the will of man…
Planning to land a dodge ram on the spam factory
Rectally cramming grandfather clock hands
Scamming bands of Ayn Rand fans
I approve of myself –
Derailed writings without direction
Making up things like “latterly”
…..better to just end it----
I approve of myself
And much of this message
I rarely delete so sometimes trash finds its way to all of you :)
P Jan 2017
I am stuck; here, outside.
No one's home to open the doors,
Plus I'm tired, lonely and coarse.
The insects are swarming me,
They won't leave,
For I am food in their eyes,
Exposed and out of place.

I keep on retaliating, consistently,
But there seems to be no end to my misery.
I'm tired of waiting; I hit the doors,
Knowing no one will answer - I pound some more.
Begging, crying; someone please open the doors.
-This is me literally speaking, but please, search your heart for another meaning

I'm stuck here outside my house :( no one's home. I just got home from school and I'm waiting for my mom to come back. But I fear it'll be hours before she does. So here I am, stuck outside.
~for Cathy Leff, curator~


no bugler blaring ‘pay attention’ to me,
no emergent bad news bearish telephone cell call of an absurd tonal,
no alarm clock retaliating agin a humans daily defying double-slap,
no young children sneaking in, with a guard dog in accompaniment,
   joy-ending a deep parental sleep from the exhaustion they induced

but as if shot, the humans burst into alertness,
from prone to moan, they instantly revert, becoming **** Erectus,
gasping from shock troop dreams, and a chest-pounding message,
a whisper growing, an ever increasing crescendo, an unnatural law,

an unsullied foot-stomping battle cry that self-terrorizes, undeniable:

write me, your poem, write me now!

ah, it must be 5:00 am...
Joe Cole Jan 2015
Vitriol and filth spill forth from
Its mouth in uncontrollable torrents
Akin to sewage but not sewage
For sewage is a by product of humanity
And can be recycled
No the filth spewing from this creatures mouth
Has been dredged up from the very depth of
Depravity
It poses as the feminine form of humanity
But I refuse to address it as such
It, the thing, the creature
Are the adjectives that best describe it
Ebola like it is spreading its filth across
Pages of this fine site
And Ebola like it is already infecting
The less strong for they are now retaliating in kind
Some here might call me hypocrite
Because of my constant duel with Loghain
But I say no because Loghain and I duel like gentlemen
But there is nothing that even fringes on decency
From the fetid gaping chasm that is the mouth
Of it
aka The Gutterslut
OK rant over
Sam Temple May 2015
dreaming demon screaming without reason
treasonous season fastidious and aromatic
blooming blossoms bursting from bosoms
new shoots shooting forth
life re-awakening with longer days
and warming temperatures –
civilized industrialization outclassed
by the low roar of larva taking flight
en masse wings flash and crops gasp
nature retaliating after its relinquishment
relegating mankind to extinguish the fires
of the long cold lockdown –
frolicking fawns free and fuzzy
boundless bounce in green alfalfa fields
white tipped hare tails leap and scurry
and Mrs. Coyote cleans kits absentmindedly
looking over flowing prairie grasses
for a mouse sized morsel –
Sean Achilleos Jun 2018
Mother nature is crying out
The ground is barren and cracked open like a festering wound
Too much innocent blood has been spilled by both beast and man
By our so called human race
Who has proven to be quite inhuman
We have filled your beautiful skies with pollution
Devastated the ground we walk on with explosives
Cut down the very trees that give us oxygen
While creatures both big and small are disappearing
The same way Love and brotherhood is becoming extinct
And animosity is available in abundance
As greed and the lust for money lingers on
We simply turn a blind eye
Therefore mother nature herself is retaliating against us
Revolted by our actions
We capture creatures from the sky and sea
And put them on display like puppets
Then charge mankind a fee to see
We have dug our own hole and made our own bed
For we have stripped mother nature of her beauty and crown
While radiation is all around
We hope to sleep safe and sound
Until one day a bell will ring and signal the end to this mess we're in
Then we will shout 'God forgive us for the fools we've been'
Written by Sean Achilleos 2016©
www.facebook.com/SeanAchilleosOfficial/
Amazon: Sean Achilleos 'An Affair with Life' The Philosophical Poems of Sean Achilleos
YouTube: Sean Achilleos

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Julian Delia Jul 2019
REAL NAME ALTERED TO SAFEGUARD IDENTITY*

I know what you’re going through.
Aged nineteen, I wanted to die, too.
I can offer no consolation;
The world is messed up,
A fact that needs no arbitration.

All I can tell you is that you are not alone.
Listen to my words, ‘cause they’re about to hit home.
You need do nothing but be, just breathe;
Let love into your heart, again.
The mightiest tree starts from the humblest seed;
Let love take root, build its little den.

It is always darkest before dawn.
Life feels like you’re facing a firing squad,
And they’ve all got their rifles drawn.
Ten barrels of steel, pointed right at you;
You’ve been running for so long.
Eventually, they finally catch you.

Darling, killing yourself doesn’t solve your problems.
You won’t be around to care, but others will,
And seeing you go will turn them into stone golems.
As such, you just pass on your grief to your people.
They’ll find no relief, like they’re sitting on steeples.

Maybe, you hate the people who love you, or they’re **** at it,
So it’s more harm than good being done to you.
Very few of us have managed to figure this **** out.
In fact, many of us are straight-up *******.

That doesn’t mean life can’t be beautiful.
That doesn’t mean love can’t be bountiful.
Everyone’s too scared, though;
Trust is a taut rope,
And there’s very little hope.
I know that love and beauty can be scarce;
I know discourse is sometimes trifling, sometimes terse.

But darling, you mustn’t ever give up.
You are not crazy, nor are you insane.
The world is run by people who actually are heartlessly insane,
And they’ve built a cage to **** with your brain.
But please, don’t give up.

I hope this gets to you in time;
I wish I could say it’ll all be okay,
That everything will be fine.
But, it won’t be.
We are doomed to a lifetime of fighting back,
Either that, or just getting attacked.
I will not stand to suffer any longer,
Not without retaliating in defense, in kind.
Take my hand, for together we are stronger.
It’s time to halt the daily grind.
I'm sorry I choked up. I wasn't strong enough to say this to you in person.
Emma Falter Aug 2016
I tell you every day that I love you.
You ask why I say it so often if we both already know it.
We are from different dimensions.
Your love is simple, cookie cutter calculated.
Your love focuses on the facts,
Not taking the time to give attention to the what ifs, whys, and other scary wonders.
My love is swirling through galaxies,
My love paints pictures upon pictures of our love.
Sunsets and fields that go on for miles,
Everything with allurement dedicated to you.
My love quietly asks your love for a bit of comfort and your love calls mine childish.
My love is explosive,
retaliating and overreacting as my feelings for you ooze and drip everywhere.
Your love frantically tries to clean up the mess,
Frequently checking its surroundings to make sure nobody is looking.
My love is an encyclopedia.
Your love is a word.
My love for you is mosaic,
every glass piece glistens and gleams in the sun in a million different ways showing the millions of different reasons to love you.
Your love is one singular, beautiful color.
One color is enough to show your knowing and strong affection.
But my eyes have always longed for the contradictions of warms and cools.
The spectacular mixing of firing hot reds and lovely icy blues.
A beautiful color spectrum dancing in front of my dreaming eyes.
Your love preferred the basics.
Your love has always longed for a love that can put all their love into one color.
One solid statement color.
My love will never appreciate the smooth simplicity of your being.
And your love will never quite understand why my love tells you every single day that it loves you if yours only feels the need to say it on occasion.
Anna Oct 2016
Swirling around the testimony
Are my words with a hundred meanings
                             Evoking
                          Retaliating
                            Repelling
The customs set
And the laws enforced

Words that may not render wisdom
But support the sense of speech within

Hindering with the grammar
So the thoughts can flow raw

Words that cut through
And seeps to infuse with the red messenger
Of all those who breathe
And all who take decisions

Phrases that ,when set alone
Can bring mass to a cause
Can dwindle the roots of a humongous

But these are only chain of thoughts
Which may never be able to have a voice
As hundreds of such voices persist

It's just a cascade of thoughts
Of a city with a lone inhabitant
              My dreamville
Many a times we have points to explain but since we are no one in the eyes of the world dominated by the people who loves flattery, we are not able/willing to let our thoughts br presented ,which we know are worth telling, but surely be wasted if told
NicoleRuth Dec 2015
The wars wouldn't shake me
The mass killings not break me
If only I felt safe here
No evil power could consume my soul

But I sleep each night
In a trembling fear
Of beloveds in anger retaliating
Frustrations relieved in a lashing
MOTV Jan 2017
rocks
oh
the rocks are
cackling
moving
the motion
got the Earth
collapsing
oh
these rocks
these rocks
aren't stable
no fable
retaliating to man's
response to odds
at ways
these days
are still strange
still for a millisecond
while the fissure hits
into the abyss we step
into the dream we
are thrown as a mass
relapse into the rafts
of a savage under
the skin of a man
the core expands
from fissures
comes molten hands
from eye to Earth's
ends it expands
oh
anticipating the wake
a strange
sweet taste
like crepe
Await oh
thoughts of fissures coming
one day just to say
hey
I am awake

tuh

tuh

tuh

time to celebrate.
If my life is ruined
I fought like a winner
Every time I fell
I laughed again after crying
I didn't frown or get upset
If I'm good, it makes others uglier
I am like a free bird
Because instead of retaliating
I forgave
Mohamadreza Baseri
I am like a free bird
Because instead of retaliating
I forgave
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2022
probably the best day in my life...
it's too hot to eat...
i'm getting leaner...
must have lost about 3kg...
    just one Cornish yoghurt with
some strawberry under-filling "jam"...

currently drinking whiskey
listening to a Templar chant -
  veni sancte spiritus...
i'll probably move onto some Byzantine chants
and then some Muslim songs...
whatever...

but what i really want to do is move
onto R.E.M.'s automatic for the people...
finishing a reply to: night-swimming...

no... nothing about skinny-dipping
with the full voyeurism of the moon...
snow... ice... salt and darkness... and the biting
cold...

this heat is intolerable...
i spent the day glues to the wooden floor...
i was switching positions...
to one side... to another side...
one leg on the bed...
lying on the floor...
one leg one arm on the bed...
no good...

              it became so hot that whenever i lifted
my torso up...
i lay down: FARTING with my back...
literally... i haven't eaten anything in
about 3 days... well... "eaten":
i find technical grounds to suggest:
you eat something when you get to
**** some of the excesses out...
ergo?
        i've eaten the bare minimum...
ergo: i haven't **** anything out...

the zenith of summer is intolerable for me...
i hate summer...
   even if this years summer brings with it
no snails... or flies...
just ants... spiders... and rats...
i do hope the rat problem i'm having
in my kitchen will be resolved by the heat
rather than rat poison or the "guillotine"...

i was lying on the floor dehydrated and feeling
sort of serene...
i think i could die from hunger and dehydration...
then again: what's a calorie intake
from merely alcohol?
         it probably does fuzzy "things" to the brain...
no wonder i'm listening to Templar chants...

me at my worst...
         strange... the Templars were the most violent
of the crusader camps...
yet... they sang the most...
it's not like the Knight Hospitaller...
hell... match them up: the Templars with the Teutonic
knights...

i've come across these two men
in my nearest past...
distraught creatures...
     "rats" willing to bite their tails off...
i too was in their confinement
of de profundis...
                  no one but me came to my aid...
scuttling... lost... blind... torn...
i'm sort of happy i could have helped them...
the good one can give unto humanity
is so cheap yet so expensive...

   perhaps it has been my purpose to not
attain wealth...
     then again: i'm already wealthy...
the Romford public library doesn't own
a single book that i possess in my private library...
it did, though, put me on course
of acquiring Thomas Mann's Dr. Faustus...
but that's about it!
   the rest is junk! i live in a city where the public
library is a joke, compared to my private collection...

this reality is: truly... PUNISHING...
Ilford had a better selection...
i gained some recognition writing my A-level essay
on the counter-Reformation in high-school
based on the research i did:
from the books i found in the Ilford library...
i just heard that the next class of pupils
were introduced to my work...
but the current reality? PUNISHING...
                
i had to resort to *** with prostitutes...
i do remember the last one i pleased...
           no... it's not working... BITE IT...
she die... it wasn't working... i had to return
the favour... slobber in oyster juices...
probe with my nose...
                insert my index and middle...
as imitation...
                         personally? i find giving a woman
oral *** rather therapeutic...
        play me some monk songs while you're
at it and i'd reached the godhead...

one of the traits of the myth of Gomorrah...
******-eaters...
   i'm one of them... short tempered:
***** beyond repair...
                        i could drown in a bottle
of whiskey and about a dozen *****
properly dished: hygienic...
just frenzied with taboos of...
               flowers... pink and slightly purple
tinged bouquets of floral flesh...

flowers... endless bouquets of floral flesh...
maybe that's why i write so:
i abhor talking during ***...
i tend to insinuate my partners to refrain
from talking during the act also...
if they can't: i don't restrain them...
but i contain myself to the maximum
of an onomatopoeia... there's no "daddy"...
there's no "*****"...
        i'm of the persuasion:
you ever **** me like animals **** each other...
or there's no ******* conversation
outside of *******... the end...

and this is what makes...
songs akin to the Templar chant: veni sancte spiritus
so... so... DOUBLY ******!
it's a hidden eroticism...
because it disguises what could otherwise
be a misunderstood ****-eroticism!
it's not! sure... women sing...
but when men sing to other men about
something that's deified: by each individual man
and therefore unrelateable...
by "casual" constraints leading toward a belonging:
a camaraderie...

that's different...
             no wonder the Teutonic knights had
a brothel in their citadel...
sometimes... you want an excuse... any excuse...
to bypass the narrative of Eve
and return to the Hells and Heavens of Lilith's
company...

damaged? no... hardly... i'm just unlike any
of the Jihadi G.I. Joes and Johns of the current era...
i actually want fame postmortem...
and i actually want a harem in "heaven"...
i'm testing the waters... not by killing people on
the whim / promise...
   you begin with ******* prostitutes...
                 you end by ******* prostitutes...
stealing kisses... performing oral ***...
this is me CRUSADE against whatever the JIHAD
has made available...
thank **** i made my way towards Turkey...
now i'm planning advances towards Iran...

- i still think one of the best albums ever recorded
has been, so far, R,E.M.'s automatic for the people...
just like i remember courting her hands
with firm grips while eating her out...
peeping with a pseudo-voyeurism into
her eyes...                   sure: my *** is not gay-pride
***... it's what was made available:
certainly nothing sadomasochistic... organic...
law-breaking... all the more real:
the reality being:
it's illegal to own a brothel... in England...
it's not illegal to frequent one...
BASE...

the SIDEWINDER sleeps tonight...
            well... i'm not sleeping: right about now...
i said i would and i did...
cycling shirtless... t-shirt-less...
furry brother on the run from the sun...
what an amazing feeling...
just like R.E.M sang about night-swimming...
hmm... NIGHT-CYCLING...
   in my world no is trying to fall asleep
or thereby trying to wake up...

there's just this grey glue of people
in between of being in between...
and that's almost contained within the word:
hubris... hell... even better... a compound
of words: a hubris-hiatus...

             i like that... "we" should invent a HH
dep. to make sure the HR dep. are doing their job...
maybe i'm just dehydrated...
haven't ingested enough calories...
or maybe... i'm seeing clearly while other people
are still forever: fuzzy...

ready and to burry your father and your mother...
what did you think when you lost another...

not my words.. worries wiped and dusted...

NIGHT-CYCLINNG...  SHIRTLESS...
barbarian within all that's could be
compensated with a "whole"...
hours prior?
dealing with the heat...
the bed could be considered useful...
if it wasn't for the excesses...
i prefer the floor...
i'd like to think that knocking on a pine
tree would spontaneously
conjure up an idea for a door...

then again... could a forest conjure up
a house... and a desert too?
                hmm... pyramids...
necropolis axiom...
               who dies, apparently: lives on?
no?
                     then i best be dead...
                 thinking is an involuntary act...
sort of automatic sort of by no persuasion
sort of forced without any originality...
hello: oranges and no future sunrises!
hello: how's you: ******* too?!

how's that?!
         me? i'm sort of chirping along with
angels like a pigeon ought...
because: pigeons ought: chirp and chat
with angels...
              and i want to breathe death
into the minds of gods... telling them...
you ought to be subordinate to what's
the required burden... that we ALL... SHARE...
THIS... *******... BURDEN!
savvy?!          no! there's no in-between
we either share this burden:
or we don't! if we don't? well then...
the gates are open... we annihilate yourselves..
we work with each other?
    there's a second chance we might
breathe... or swim... or take a liking to
bicycle...

            then again:
i'm not going to care that much...
i just want a harem...
             i find women boring...
if they're not multiplied...
i have a short attention span...
and a long attention span...
i'm just too envious of men prior to me...
i don't want to be distraught with
an envy of Solomon...
    
and i kept drinking: because i felt and felt some more
intellectually isolated....
i couldn't conceive a retention of intelligence
beside the realm of what could be obtained:
or rather... disregarded...
i could never become "Cosmopolitan" enough...
"gay" enough... "proud" enough...

these days a litre of whiskey is not enough
for people of my "incompetence"...
it's enough, though: to lean either left
or lean right... or... neither...
                         goof: my indifference is screaming...
a silent scream before the altar of Moloch...
times are changing:
nothing really changes...
           the perpetual expansion
of space...
poetry > mythology > history > journalism < poetry...

death's not really apparent until...
what's not supposed to be dead...
is actually dead... is... dead...
          by curiosity concerning the colour purple...
all out mortal concerns
confines to the allocation of
collecting pillows... to replicate clouds!

my friend died... a grandfather to no one
beside me... but also my cycling buddy...
yet all these people became involved in
guilt tripping... some daughter... some son...
i lost a... friend!
i didn't lose a grandfather! primo... i lost a friend!

i sooner bled from my head
than i cried with my eyes!
i associate the name JOSEPH with: LEAVING...
i smear my tears like women smear
their fake attraction chemicals: apart...

to the burdens of death and to the burdens of life:
death to the living... and life to the dead...
at least some are unreliably
unaware that they are there, yet.

one comment after another:
but isn't that Ii? there's no N... in that... it's iota-iota... not lambda amber... well... great... for shallow beginnings... best try scribbling some graffiti...it could make my commute more memorable... don't... seriously... i was just traumatised by catching a rat in my kitchen... i was keeping a female main **** in between my feet... even she ****** off from the dying sounds... death by snorkeling on a bleeding snout? bleeding from biting the tail off?! if a rat's dying in a way that makes the cat *******... and you're like... should i open the door and stab it to death?! yeah... great Cyrillic sort of ******* br'uh..

you ever listen to a rat die?
ever listen to a rat die in such a way
that your cat runs: the **** away?!
my father compares me to a rat...
he doesn't compare me to
a fox or a vampire: wish wish...
i'm just a rat...
              
   i just wept... listening to a death
of a rat...
i wanted to open the cupboard
and stab the baited ******
with a guillotine applause...
         but then i thought:
i suffer... you suffer too..
         hell... if the cats are not going to touch
you... i'm not coming closer with a knife
either...
death the great deceiver...
   with life the greater culprit... of making:
sacrifices...
more that's to be lived than
is to be expected to die...

           did "god" say as much?
what's the point: if... a limited number of potentials
are not exposed to the glory of my "thinking"...
i expect more to have ever been alive
than for those to have been accounted
as the arithmetic of by death's: queue...

remarkable... my father keeps calling me a rat...
remarkable... sure... i drink...
you ever listen on a rat dying
from a rat-trap? then again: i don't know...
i started to insinuate Morse code
by scratching a knife
against the cupboard...
imitating / creating circles...
that ******* squeaking...
                       the retaliating motivation
to pursue life!
       i took my Maine **** into my lapse...
to wait for her to pounce...
even she was distraught...
she ****** off.. even she was like...
sure... you open the cupboard door...
aim the knife...
or... you get a good night's sleep
and let the rat die on its own...

listening to a rat die from some minor injury...
i'm thinking... of men dying beach-strapped
to their injuries come D-Day
concerning Normandy...
     i like to have the luxury of being
this forgetful further...
getting sentimental about listening
to rats dying in traps...
in the middle of the night...
while i was no Newton and i'd prefer a pear...
but... a cat... couldn't listen to the torture...
a cat... a cat couldn't listen to a death of rat from
a trap...
i lodged her between my legs in order
to pounce...
she ****** off...
    she couldn't stomach it...

you ever listen to a rat dying in the middle
of the night?
i thought about the death of my grandfather...
i should **** mosquitos more often...
i should **** spiders more often...

but rats?! oh... **** me...
the way they struggle coming to the fruition
of their expected life...
scuttling... scribbling... scratching: nibbling...
the squeaks...
CATS *******...
seriously... a rat's dying: the cats *******!
me too... i ******* and drink to excess...
why if your father calls you a rat...
and then... hey presto! you catch a rat!
and you're killing it...
well... tear... umbrella... raindrop...
one fine autumn day...
                   thank you dad:
but i won't be mourning:
like you weren't mourning for your dad...

maybe... what's that? maybe i wish i had a
a wife... then again... maybe not...
i just listened to a rat die... scratching like
mad...  
                 sure... the day was great...
being glued to the wooden floor over-sweating...
until... scuttling and nibbling...
a rat caught in a rat trap... probably dying...
the ******* cat was traumatised!
cat! not predator?!
                                or maybe it was the fact
that i was weeping and wanting an apology
to come through...

i haven't eaten much in the past 3 days...
i need to sleep...
i actually need to fall asleep in my bed
and wake up in it... rather than
on the cold floor with not pyjamas...
i abhor summers...
              these superficial insomniac events
of non-event.
Eleanor Sinclair Jun 2018
I'm hurting inside for the world we inhabit
We protest, burn flags, but ignore every homeless rabbit
When will we notice that we aren't the only ones fighting back?
That Nature is retaliating against us and planning to attack
We won't even give Her a voice
She has no choice and can't scream Her warnings and pleas
Soon we will be banding against not war but disease
What will it take for our nation to understand
Why can't we work as a planet and outstretch our hand
To rejuvenate the few salvageable pieces of land
Because what's the point of calling for change when we are losing our homes to our Mother's fists of rage
It brings me to tears and it breaks my lion heart because I can't come to grips with the extinction of our natural art
Law makers are seeing what we're doing with our signs and parades
Now it's time we understand Nature's game of charades
Because as the volcanoes erupt and tectonic plates shift
Our nations grows more divided with a widening rift
It's all we have left as a place to call home
Animals are going extinct and in a few years won't be known
Soon will the human race fall from the earth
And our daily phenomenon won't transpire like birth
We need to see what our own world is doing
With each passing day Her anger is brewing
We ripped Her to shreds and broke all Her limbs
Then we polluted Her waters with our oil seeking whims
We aren't looking with our eyes
We aren't heeding Her signs
When will the world stop being blind
Pick up the trash bags and leave the old ways behind
Faith Eagle Jan 2016
The pain of civilization the hunger of a reservation the future of your instincts manifested in the waters deep enough to drown sorrows in your own back yard formers retaliating in healing formers regaining strength in value in self governing options on the white paper hidden eyes so black so lost in your formality tie your own shoes don't try walk in ours you have no soles mysteries of the lost graves reappearing lines thru the lines found by mistake take me by the hand i won't take your truth I reform myself in dignity of my First Nation
Red Bergan Feb 2014
So comes thy *******,
It always happens when you yell.

Those words,
They tear a mortal apart,
Wishing they were dead,
When you came near.

End thy screaming,
For it may be your last.
Do not dare strike me,
I will **** thee.

Word's damage my soul,
Leaving me behind the local fold.

Do not strike thee for disrespect,
When one yell's,
Another will scream.
Retaliating the war.

Be careful of thy scene,
I will win in due time.
Destroying ever Self-esteem,
That YOU have.
A fight that happened a couple days ago, dont ask. Just relate. Give me idea's to add or edit!! Thanks! :D
Katie Rudnicki Aug 2014
Dear Poet,

I believe that nothing is as pure as an organic human connection, and I have found that in you. I look back on the hours, the days, the nights I spent with you and they feel so illusory. it is a time I am constantly craving to relive.

I’m not sure why you left. Maybe you were scared, but I was sure as hell terrified too. And this is exactly what I was terrified of. I opened up my entirety to you and you walked away without so much as an explanation. Its okay if you needed time to think. You just left me to wonder where things went wrong. I am left here with this hole in my being i can physically feel. I can feel the emptiness in the cavity of my chest, under my ribs. I feel empty, sore, and my heart is retaliating.

Our time together was short, but I have never experienced something so real in my entire life. I am constantly looking up from whatever I am doing hoping to see you pop up somewhere, but instead I am stuck searching for pieces of you in every little thing around me.

I cry because I am missing you so badly, I can’t distract myself long enough to keep from going insane. I have no idea why you can’t speak to me. I can’t close my eyes or attempt to clear my mind because the second I do I am consumed with memories of how your body felt next to mine. I hear you whisper "I feel safe with you." I am aching for that. I am holding my breath just to recall hearing you lose yours when we kissed.

I just keep losing myself.

But I have to keep snapping myself back to reality to avoid crying in the middle of a world full of people who have no idea what is happening in my head.

I still believe everything you said, except for "I’m not going anywhere." I can only hold on to the few things you left in my room in hope that its your excuse to come back.

These days have been such a run on sentence; no escape, no end, no breath, no relief.
Part of a series.
Faith Eagle Jan 2016
I was becoming for the record I know I'm a liability what I administer is formation that was created from my days my minutes ...that cop that  came to rescue us when everyone left gave me his shhhhh he said no one will believe you OK ..All pretty all beautiful soul dancing ....suppress your only a savage !!go look after your kids look at you disgusting... OK !!! that worker did an assessment  on me ..unfit no good violent..but I can't tell you that I cry every night I don't even sleep in my own bed!! I make my kids sleep in one room just in case we have to jump out the window... but wait I'm violent I'm unfit I'm trying to protect myself from Mr. and Mrs. originally we were put on medication because were unbalanced and we need help psych ward is next for you you crazy Indian!!! I got to make it home tonight I sit in love for my family no one can take that from you !!it's mine !!educationally I sip this rage I sip this patience pour this quality into my baby girls I promise ...that Stagger makes you look vulnerable the cab driver pulls up loud music says our native slangs personally hand his number now he has us First Nation women on target !!!! where are you I just saw you we just spoke of our kids growing up together ...where are you I was trying to make a way I didn't have enough for this ..I'm sorry ..I'm lost I cry now ...you speak ..voice me tell my mama I love her my kids show them they're the greatest and to walk forward breathe me alive in your voice!!... they're going to call an apology accordingly as order is adopted their ways speak like them walk like them dress like them wash like them drink like smoke like them think like them wait I look different than them I feel different than them I try to fit in it just does not work OutKast original first nation take me home now ...I can't stay addicted the pain of civilization the hunger of the reservation the future of your instincts manifested in the waters deep enough to drown sorrows in your own backyard formers retaliating in healing formers regaining strength in value in self governing options on the white paper hidden eyes  so black so lost in your formality ...tie your own shoes don't try to walk in ours you have no sole... mysteries of loss graves reappearing lines found by mistake take me by the hand I won't take your truth I reform myself in dignity of my First Nation !!!!mercy kindness  truth!!!
Emmennarr Apr 2017
Waves of a breezy day in the valley
Slap the banks that pushed them,
Retaliating not too harmfully
Just enough to irritate the land.
The fight spurs between two opposites;
The pure and the old.
Pureness doesn't cleanse a spirit
That's been around too long,
But the old can't ****
Something that's practically innocent.

The rain decides the winner.
uzzi obinna Aug 2016
Listen to these words as you read it,
Words for the living and not the dead,
Many powerful men have been brouht low,
Just by lying in Delilah's bed;
Satan seems to be giving a better offer,
But i must admit that i'm scared;
Zombies creeping into your children's dream,
An outcome of what the media has fed;
"I think i should fornicate a little",
"I am afraid that i might not be wed";
"Lord please forgive me if i hurt you",
"I'll do anything to earn my bread",
You call your children prodigals,
They've chosen a way to tread;
People lying from the altars,
Claiming to be led;
Preachers dishonoring the poor,
The same people Jesus would have fed;
People fighting for the cause of religion,
A group of reprobates misled;
Many retaliating by burning national flags,
As if to say their god is dead;
Lands which patriots fought for,
Now a place where innocent blood is shed;
Do not make hanging from a noose the option,
When all your friends have fled;
You simply might have been lagging behind,
While the world is many years ahead;
Daughters cursing their mothers,
But for their sakes these mamas bled;
LGBTs now forming unions,
Situation of the world is code red;
Hatred, disunity and supremacy over others,
Is all religions common thread;
People afraid to stand for the truth,
Nothing but cowards scared;
But be yourself, save others and hurt no one,
Peace is all our soul needs to be fed.
I try to put myself in the thought of people in this write up so none of all thats mentioned here directly describes me but points out what almost evryone must have thought of in their lifetime.
So while you read this, you might find something you once have thought of.
Mason Jay May 2016
today is just another day
but I’m feeling some sad kind of way
not sure quite why I try
when some days I want to die

sometimes there just is a rhyme or reason
against me my brain’s committing treason
but other days just don’t know why
I feel the burning need to cry

some days the bullies come to play
and it just ruins my whole day
cause my insecurities come out
and I dream of retaliating with a shout

later on I find the right retort
but in the moment, words fall short
some days they choose to attack
and all I do is turn my back

they break away my armor shiny
causing me to feel quite tiny
but it’s okay
because I’m moving away
Treacherous skies, she calls in the distance..
as ive come to understand, my wings;
shiver as she whispers..
is it my name? or is she telling me something different.
Oh, how i crave the wind in my face;
sweet sorrow, retaliating with its last embrace.
Just for a moment.. melancholy's her name.
With the most beautiful voice; soft like rose petals; calmly floating down stream.
If I were to decide today's the day i trust in my wings..
I wonder if i should ever see the world the same.
Jump! i hear another  voice..
claim the skies as if it were a gift; slowly but surely i feel the soft glow of sunlight.
soft and subtle.
melancholy seeps from view..
as if in a dream; my wings take flight.
Ila Apr 2020
Angels are those 100 foot tall celestial beings with the thousand eyes and seven pairs of wings. They burn with celestial flame and run ichor through their bones. Demons on the other hand, even with the bad reputation, are far less frightening. They’re fallen angels, shouldn’t they still have all those attributes? Well, no. I don’t think so. Demons have adapted look more like humans. Sure if you stare too hard, too long, you’ll notice something for a spilt second, but most people dismiss that as a trick of the eye. Demons blend into the crowds, in the shadows, in the darkness in our hearts. They were made into less celestial beings, and they have every right to be angry. Thrown out of heaven like food for the dogs. They are retaliating. They’re disrupting God’s so called perfect creation. They are bringing chaos into this world. Humans don’t know this and think of it as a regular encounter, a passerby on the street, the barista at your local coffee shop, the fruit vendor tending to their goods. Demons are making it a normal enounter, so normal that we get comfortable and can’t tell the difference. It’s their job to do this. Soon enough we can’t tell the difference.

Demons look like humans, because really, aren’t we all just demons in disguise?
Timothy Ward Jan 2016
a "surgical strike"
revenge retaliating
children watch and learn
Haikus are supposed to be self explanatory by virtue of their simplicity n clarity - hence they transcend titles. I'm not there yet so I cheated n added a few more syllables!!!
Prince Gerald Jan 2018
The sensation of creation leads to revelation of revolting refuge,
rhetoric of retaliating reverse recklessness, little did we know it wasn't us to blame.

So the constant reminder of fame smacks the face of each race, as if there is nothing they can't do wrong.
when their on their toes, and their crimes on the nose, of each and every single song.
The continuous calamity of this adversity revels in the rebels of diversity.
And we keep trying, and the victims keep crying, because there's nothing they can do about it.

The moment in which we decide in ourselves to limit the blame and fame and end our self-made hell, an endless ringing bell,
a constant constant constant reminder that we. hate ourselves.

to the best of our ability we try to limit our reality as if closing our eyes, wont keep it 20/20.
And we keep ignoring it. And we keep ignoring and ignoring until one day in the light of morning we hear the mourning,
and the pigs keep snoring.

Because it's not their problem.
Its ours.

So we tire endlessly for hours, rinse repeat, blood draining the showers, as we try to fight the powers that shackle us.
And hold us. To limit ourselves that we can't be better than the old us. That we're better off here.
To disappear as if part of a background, a silent sound, a ghost hound, there is nothing left for me.

To do.

Because how can you try to fight the power, when the power you fight is in you.
You ignore the things going on, and yet you feel they are wrong.
So why don't you do something about it.

it's because you don't want to be the person who does something about it.
but instead see the person who does something about it.

and you continue every day wishing you had the strength to take on the masses, of endless, hate.
and let the course run of fate, and debate the state of each state, at this point can't collaborate to slate this... this hate.

they think we all need to be locked away, but don't they see, that's what we've always been.

Contained.
more of a rap... but hey, it is what it is.
Mateuš Conrad May 2022
i remember this one outing i had with "friends"
from high school, we used to go to the cinema
get some food at Frankie & Bennies...
this one particular time everyone was ordering
a steak and chips and what-not...

everyone was making the order: well-done... please!
oh god... i couldn't stand it!
why would you butcher a fine cut of beef: twice!
why?! why?!
there's a ****** good reason why you don't
butcher beef twice...
might as well asked for minced beef: some *******
spaghetti Bolognaise or a ******* burger!
cut-off ****(e)... dog food! hundessen!
might as well asked for some roast beef:
but that's doubly butchering the meat!

there's a reason you order undercooked beef...
the same reason why you have a steak tartar...
there's a reason...
   frankly?! i'm not surprised the Hindus do not eat
beef... it's not some ******* allegory of:
the cow gives us milk... it's our mother...
well... the goat gives milk too...
no... the Hindus... i find... stopped eating beef
because: for all their alchemical wonders of
their Raj-spice-kingdom:
they couldn't master a way to eat beef: proper...

****... my chin's itching...
i haven't brushed my beard today...
although i brushed my teeth...
need to get rid of this itch....

.....................................
.................­....................
......................................

ah... that's better... just wetted it...
it's easier to have wet ***** on your face
that you're about to comb than it is to have
dry ***** about to get pulled put by each
stroke of the comb...

but they ordered a well-done steak...
you don't eat a steak "well-done": like you don't
eat cooked herrings
or cooked sushi...
                some things are supposed to be eaten
raw or at least semi-, raw...
the meat is more tender when partially cooked...
you can't! can't! can't!
eat an overcooked piece of beef!
there's no such thing as a well-done steak:
there's only trash!
            that's called doing the double-butchers'...

steak bleu... or rare... or medium rare...
depending on the "girth" of the platter...
i'd say... respectively:
well seasoned either side... sea salt... not your
conventional crap... pepper?
in the pestle and mortar... not the pre-ground stuff...
bleu? 20 seconds either side...
rare? 35 seconds either side...
medium rare? fluctuating change of temp.
and about a minute either side...
  
i respect what i eat...
at that gathering... my "friends" looked at me
oddly... he's eating rare beef...
and what the rest of you ******* are having
roast ******* dinner
and a tapeworm phobia?!
like you can't eat cooked herrings:
the biggest tapeworms known to man
are bound to sleep in aquatic creatures...
that's not going to stop me from enjoying
my Baltic sushi... dill... gherkins... creamy sauce...
mmm...

   i've become sort of lactose intolerant...
well... as much as i love milk...
   i need it to be doubly filtered... or whatever the hell
they do with it that makes it drinkable for me:
i'm not a massive fan of yoghurts...

doubly butchering a cow by cooking it
well-done... what barbarians!
esp. a steak: now... i can be very pretentious
when it comes to food...
obviously! i don't want to be eating
******* oat-meal that's reserved for cattle
when i could be cherishing a cherry!
it's that simple!

mind "you": i woke up today and thought...
hmm... so the gods came to a standstill...
i know the Hebrew deity is a deity eater...
former gods of the other Semites soon became
angels: fallen angels...
the fallen gods of the people and their alphabets
(phonetic encoding practices)
became eroded... Cuneiform... dead...
the Egyptian Hieroglyphics: dead...
      let's face it... the latter?
hardly practical... even though...
it took the time to ***** the Eiffel Tower
to overshadow the Giza Pyramids...
       the Roman use of letters as a concept for numbers...
that's pretty ******* genius...
VI + IV = X... come on... the numbers were
already hidden in the letters...
    b + G = X (6 + 4 = 10) -
                
                what's 0? a squashed version of O
-micron...
   can you draw a 3D version of a circle on paper?
a pyramid and a cube is simple...
hmm... Islam has a powerful fascination
with the cube... while Christianity stresses
the triangle...
            you could like you could insinuate:
the eight standing and eight reclining
               8                                  ∞

bb, bb... bbbb... (BBBB)...

            but the gods apparently came to an agreement...
the Latin script would flourish...
the Latin gods? eh... they were already
the plagiarisms of the Greek gods...
but the planets would be given the names
of the Latin gods... not the Greek gods...
scientific constants would be given to the Greeks...
because the Latins "forgot" to give noun status
to their letters... like ah: is not alpha... etc.

but... ha! the Slavic gods would disappear...
completely... no questions asked...
personally?
as long as the Norse gods remained intact...
the Glagolitic script: precursor of the Cyrillic has...
job done... the runes also have remained...
and why? why did the Hebrew deity have such a hard
time... undermining both the phonetic encoding method
of the Greeks and the Latins...
weakness... the jealous one:
even as he tried to march forward with his most
precious son being sacrificed...
Lucy... the hey-zeus... dangling on a crucifix...
couldn't: wouldn't: can't! undermine
something elder: as much original and as much
true as himself...

i sometimes pity him: mr. ******* bombastic...
i'd love to see him... unravel the x-ray scribbles
of the Dao-menschen... of the Mandarins...
with his: futile 'ebrew!
               really? he can?!
personally...
i have three favourites...

i'm usually disguised as a doppelganger...
i'm usually some famous rugby player
or Brad Pitt...
              i have a headache: thanks but...
eh... i also want to think about al dente pasta...
shadow-thief?! visage-thief...
whatever the correct term...
  
   i'm more inclined toward the gods
of technique...
             i don't like the sensibility of nothingness...
the sober: persistent: ping-pong
with nothing whereby you... hit a ball and...
oops! no echo... the ball doesn't come back...
the relationship with nothing is unlike
a relationship with deities...
nothing is a glutton...
                  you can't play squash with nothing...
there's no echo within the confines of believing:
all of this came from nothing...
nothing...
                      nothing...
      i don't buy the 00s atheistic popular crap...
because? no dinosaurs in the book of Genesis?!
literal reading? right...
so... no dragon on the flag of Wales?!
   no great: fire-breathing lizards?!
             crocodiles?! where?!
                     people weren't reading poetry back when
there was a potato famine! were they?!

the, language, is, *******, poetic! by poetry it implies:
metaphor subsequently: mythology...
what?! expect ******* journalism from the year 500 B.C.?!
******* gullible people...
like we all want a libido / a journalistic insomnia
of always wanting to have a ******* / being informed
about... **** all there is to be known!

fair enough: the Hebrew deity once duped
the white northerners to adopt his ****** sacrifice
of a "son" as salvation: as instigator for war
upon war upon war...
      now?! he's currently panicking...
oh ****... these same people have become somewhat
sensible: it no longer matters with the resurrection
of the state of Israel...
time to... turn "one's" attention toward Africa!
yes! ******* brigade moves on!
eh... and some remnants of it still persisting in
H'america... but what's new?!

- must have woken up dreaming about deities...
i must have...
who are my two favourites?!
the architects... the technicians...
in Greek: Hephaestus...
   in Norse? Höðr... or Brokkr...

the unifying concept of monotheism that runs
parallel with the globalist agenda...
any: every idiot can spot this...

but i felt wondering...
am i, ambidextrous?
         i don't think i am...
           i closed one of my eyes...
i'm right-handed...
which eye do you think i closed: to keep balance?
my right eye, or my left eye?!
Odin: dearest provider of puzzles...
hangman Judas and taboo breaker...
since i'm right handed when i write:
although: the genius of QWERTY implies
that i'm somehow ambidextrous
when facing a typewriter...
i... i closed my right eye...
ah... balance!
                if i were to script an imitation...
take my right eye...
i'm left-eyed...
  i see better with my left eye...
i close my right eye...
my right hand... superior:
    ius-manus-superior...
how is that grammatical, correct?!
superior-manus-iua?!
right hand superior...
                  esp. with an eye missing...
i can thereby stroke shadow dogs...
shadow dogs: figments of my imagination...
i can touch the "lips" of death...
              i'm right-handed therefore
my left eye is both a telescope and a microscope
envy... while by supposedly missing right
eye: is my arm...
and with it... i yield: all the clues concerning
mastering "nothing"...

my current "god"?! the diacritical markers
in Cyrillic...
notably... like that represented: Cyclops
eye of Dajjal in the triangle...
i have a letter... well... "letter"...

                         Щ... perhaps smaller might help:
щ...
                i'm pretty sure diacritical markers will
help... because? what i am revealing?!
the tetragrammaton: the H1: laughter generator...
and the H2: the vowel catcher...
ha ha... contrast with ah... ah... eh?!

point being...
   Щ = ŠČ
                        what's that?
two hidden S'es... or Zeds... schcheka: it: (the dog)
barks... not... no no... not: the dog is barking...
the dog: barks!
that's two rugby goalposts of H hidden in diacritical
markers... or... if you were to employ the Cyrillic...
a little accent on the huSH (ш) with the "comma"
being added to exfoliated the CHatter...

this is my anti-Hebrew sentiment with regards
to lettering...
oh... the Greeks and the Hebrews have been
bedfellows for all these years...
trying to complicate their language with
a technicality that only Down Syndrome sufferers are
able to read...
not on my watch...
    
you're not bringing this alphabet down...
however much you wish you could...
even sending this horde of Muslim impotent ****-wits
of frustrations... it's not going to work...
i'm going to be the gate-keeper to this
phonetic encoding...
like... haven't you heard?!
the internet was born from these letters?!
it wasn't... born from Katakana...
Hanguel or Mandarin ideograms...
or spaghetti Mr. Dubai pants of Arabic...
****-wits... what?! meow meow:
dog took a ****... bark bark: a cat took a ****?!

am i "right-eyed!? i never thought it ut...
well... if i'm a proponent of the the right
hand... when writing... although...
give me a keyboard: both hands are used...
i kick a pebble down the road using my right foot...
i must be more inclined to prefer my
left eye...
            
the Hebrews can salvage their ****-hurt belief
in undermining the Gentiles
with having sacrificed "their" son of "god":
retaliating with a planned invasion
from the Muslim tribe...
honestly? these women are worth being
sacrificed... they're not my mothers,
they're not my sisters...

if "Europe" is to be ***** by another
Mongol invasion... look at me?! am i worried?!
i know i'm dealing with mollusk Arabs
with as much stamina and
grit as...
don't ask... they are probably going to get
their fluffy toys of makeshift puppy pretend
it'sa dog... it doesn't ****, it doesn't ****...
there's no worse curse than wearing black...
dealing with pet fur...

i do think about...
"think"...
about... allowing myself...
eyelashes... to be substituted for.... a  concern
for a lack of shoelaces...
i do "think" that i want to walk
in shoes... i want to echo to scream!
echo: foot-notes!

spuckefreuer!
                   blutenwasser!
faltenwurf-die-erde!

der berg: steht...
         der ozean: welle auf welle,,,
stein auf stein...

          etwas besser deutsche-mensch....
imaginär: drachen...
                                     zungenschlag....
und: zephyr.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2021
i'm so... oh so... disillusioned with myself:
i'm drinking chilled white wine...
ergo... no red wine no ice cubes
no coca-cola: no kalimotxo... no aztec giggle...
music... once the pillar of my identity
now reduced to...
let's just pretend the wind doesn't whistle...
dodging traffic...
without a hard-on for the changing
of gears... or revving up...
skid-meister...
i must be disillusioned with myself...
i'm listening to a cherry-picking of pop...
billy joel's we didn't start the fire...
a very democratic take on history...
not like Genghis Khan would ever mind...
a democratic study of history:
not history as: those most psychopathic
those most ambitions...
those most willing to work the plough...
the little people matter:
now they everyone is literate and now that
everyone has a vote...
vote for status quo!
  
mmm.. hmm... the current zeitgeist of:
MEN(?) the moralists...
i like it...
let's kiss the good squeak goodbye...
let's see how time erodes all that prevails with
the walking abortions in sight...
i'm part of this ever arising cohort...
of disfranchised readied to ***** silly...
men are terrible moralists...
you know that seeing a women
exfoliate as she does...
in her ****** prowess...

imagine: a video of self-gratification:
she can do it to herself whilst sober:
pregnant... it's still not me slapping the silly
whittle richard silly monkey:
no scented candles...
i have no traction to compete...
i might have *******...
but a ******* is by no means...
a kippah... or a monkish tonsure..
or for that matter... a tribal get-together...
for a game a bowling...

what's a white Russian without
a game of bowls with a Big Lebowski?
i'd sacrifice ownership
of *******... if i were wedded to
an orthodox Jewish gal...
or a Muslim crease in a niqab...
i'd give up my ******* pronto!

i feel so disillusioned drinking white wine...
it's not red: i can't make
kalimotxo!
music has become...
a noise i rather listen to
beside the congestion of
traffic jargon...

i don't care that it is...
Prokofiev... Tool... 50Cent...
Sonny Rollins... it's music...
it's not... the sound of the orchestra of
trickling imitation of orchestra:
no... there's no polyphony...
when the rain: and the rain:
does fall...

XAOΣ... ΚΑΝΟΝΕΣ...
what is to be: canonised... no?
oh please allow these women
all their freedom they can muster...
i want to fulfil myself as
completely disinhibited from the status
of bachelorhood...
without paying attention to
a James Bond -esque ambitions...
clearly... i have been freed!
suppose the casually usual...
stereotypical... slant... view...
the loner... "user":

thank you... woman...
you can't begin to imagine what
freedom you afforded me to express!
the chains of expectant monotheism:
have i sacrificed my *******
on the altar?
you took up a niqab?
no... well then! a marriage
with the lineage of Pontius Pilate
making the sanctity...
of a binding contract...

i rather pick fleas from my cat's fur...
oh but i love he brothel...
it's like opening a bottle of bourbon...
all the scents are there...
sure... it's not so socially inclusive
as the disappointments associated
with going clubbing...
hell: i can resist...
i'll laugh about it...

feminism! thank you for the freedom!
you forgot you might have allowed:
no allegiance to either queen or king!
woman!

femina! tu gratia!
woman: you, i thank...
vs. woman: i thank you...

a bit like: a trust advertisers more than
journalists... well.. i do...
journalist might claim my mind as
dough...
dough arrives at surprise: the freedom
of thought...
advertisement...
what money i have...
i have no money...
let's counter sculptures...
i have no money to spend...
the journalists are paid
pig trough regurgitation spews...
journalists ≠ advertisers...

if i don't have the money to spend...
what's... willing me...
to have the thought to "think"...
concerning.. the labyrinth of the currency
of journalism? no... sorry...
you lost me...
you lost me at the point
where i mentioned...

the ****** come in at £2.00 per minute...
that's £120... per hour...
Christianity is still alive and well...
in the shadow of the crucifix...
the sado-masochistic...
gimp-suited-and-well-booted...
"ulterior" motives...
     what's not to... milk? i.e. verb: not merely
the noun...

grammar friendly retards...
no like...
     like moi...
'ere come(s) a doll...
oh... winter... my winter cold...
my very own self:
retaliating from the crux
posit of... a... "very" old... refreshed"

thank... you... dearest... woman...
i can finally play out my inhibited
dodo fetish ambitions...
i can froth at toying with solo...
without meaning injected into...
prototypes... replica... breeding!

i heave no lineage of athletic genes...
i have no lineage of a surname...
as freely as i am alive:
i'm as freely willing to "die":
assure myself of the reality-contract.
Huguette Nov 2018
Energy of a bullet,but lightness of a depressed elephant
Which keeps on devouring my heart every second every minute every hour and my heart stops for a minute then tears flow like the Nile river
I try stopping the tears but stopping keeps on stopping me from moving on
The thought of his smile inspires death the same way a rabbit inspires a dog
I try not to think but my thinking capacity keeps on retaliating
The luminous kiss which provokes and evolves my hormones






Thunder strikes moments captured but easily deleted
Her eyes shining like diamonds glowing under the sun
Promises being made
Every minute we in  bed but broken in a split of a second after the luminous kisses
Her body is like my favourite morning coffee which I wish she hadn't poured so much milk
Because now it's too creamy to resemble my dark brown eyes
And every time I wrote,every time I opened my eyes
I was cutting out parts of myself simply to hand them over to her
When she told me she loves me,her mouth would curl up at the edges



I didn't fall in love with you
I walked into love with you,with my eyes wide open
Choosing to take every step along the way
I do believe in fate and destiny,but I also believe we are only fated to do things that we'd choose
And i'd choose you
In a hundred lifetimes
In a hundred worlds
In any version of reality
I'd find you and choose you
Only to become my reincarnation.
Huguette and Lesley
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2018
it's almost ball-breaking and heart un-fathoming to construct a basic realism that incubates a woman... god, can you even market a retaliating compass of ***, of wife becoming a mother?! without either taking up the fruitition of a man, being, or being itself, made: cumbrant? i could almost love, if i had not the chance to tease, and by teasing: call love, a quench for a furore of mother... that "thing":"bound to accomplish a hippocratic cull, i  order to convene a tractus: impetus non. death, is a flowering clue to a dead in life, better served to mark an impetus of deciding death, rather than life: king, hybrid clue of a jaw dropping coerce.
sparkjams Mar 2019
Theocracy
desolating impulse
vicious condescension
overall
a fascinating way to eliminate progression

sesame seeds with black olives
a treat of knight and scepter
colossal European flesh-eating stencil graph today
another workforce tarnished stellar whirlwind yesterday
its all over when the money is gone

if you would, perhaps
lend us this
if you wouldn't, bother for me
pessimism determines mortality
If willpower is guided and mine is planted
step around the crease in your cesspool

carnality and starry whisper essentially declined you
you would rather have it a token of malice
than a decree of submission
cry out
cry out to this...

pointed and weighty argument
bothered and wounded like a fidgeting honey-***
slowly evolving mining emotion and festering mass
my deity would see it fall apart on itself one more instance
before retaliating against nature's canonical *******
another ember everlasting
consumption and negligent belt
worn and untorn
born and unfed
dunked in lies
Huguette Apr 2021
Energy of a bullet,but lightness of a depressed elephant,

Energy of a bullet,but lightness of a depressed elephant
Which keeps on devouring my heart every second every minute every hour and my heart stops for a minute then tears flow like the Nile river
I try stopping the tears but stopping keeps on stopping me from moving on
The thought of his smile inspires death the same way a rabbit inspires a dog
I try not to think but my thinking capacity keeps on retaliating
The luminous kiss which provokes and evolves my hormones






Thunder strikes moments captured but easily deleted
Her eyes shining like diamonds glowing under the sun
Promises being made
Every minute we in  bed but broken in a split of a second after the luminous kisses
Her body is like my favourite morning coffee which I wish she hadn't poured so much milk
Because now it's too creamy to resemble my dark brown eyes
And every time I wrote,every time I opened my eyes
I was cutting out parts of myself simply to hand them over to her
When she told me she loves me,her mouth would curl up at the edges



I didn't fall in love with you
I walked into love with you,with my eyes wide open
Choosing to take every step along the way
I do believe in fate and destiny,but I also believe we are only fated to do things that we'd choose
And i'd choose you
In a hundred lifetimes
In a hundred worlds
In any version of reality
I'd find you and choose you
Only to become my reincarnation.
Larry Mar 2020
I've ran long
ran short too.
Obstacles many
Appearances few.

I've found ways over, under & around;
found ways straight-thru.
I've been unwilling and ignorant;
been thoughtfully anew.
I've taken up arms retaliating;
taken a level-path which evenly grew.
I've seen hindrances often ugly;
seen shackles fall right in-two.

And so I've:
Lost touch in reality/accurately ran afoul-
written: "cuckoo".
Been brought back w/ composure reigning
gaining substantially in all I knew.
Numerosity in thoughts thunk in mediocrity:
an ignoramus thru&through;
relived this issue on account indifferently
so many times, uniquely, it's now in view.

I've had days of intrinsic-horror;
had days so beautiful wouldn't relate too.
Obstacles aplenty
Memories blessedly-due.

But I'll:
Stay on this route forever;
onto another more enticing comes in lieu.
Admit my rock-bottom the autumn dregs;
my Family- I'm fortunate to be born into.
Add that my grasp was idle until my crawling;
that was fruitful for me useful a cue:
my grasp became prior reason ordained
fit for me its only use.
* Not a toast for me to boast.

— The End —