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jon May 2021
Over the years I’ve heard that when a person is up at 3 am they’re either lonely or in love
I wonder which one I fall under from the two choices from above
When it’s all said and done I planned the perfect day for us, we’re gonna have some fun
Suddenly I wake up it was just a day dream, you were right there about to be in my grasp, how lovely that would be
I’d listen to you all night, my hands tracing your body, feels like ecstasy, and if you let me I’ll explore and hit all the right spots
I love the way you play during the day, you’re such a good girl who does a lot for her people without a thought
You’ve been so good and I’m proud of you, do you know what that means? You get to indulge yourself with a little treat
Staying up all night with the bright night light so I can remind you there’s light in the darkness
There’s a fire inside me and I’m pretty sure you’re the one who sparked it

Laying in bed next to someone but still feeling alone while I’m a low key mess
I’m not completely alone because I have one of my favorite girls always with me, Mary Jane to ease the daily pain
I’m off on an adventure to escape my life, gain a new experience that feels right, and explore the earth’s landscape
I’m thinking of our memories in high school, I try not to let them get the best of me but it’s hard when I’m feeling lonely
I remember our first kiss, the way we used to reminisce, and the way you used to love me
We were young and naive, back then I really ****** up, I begged you not to leave me
I didn’t mean to hurt you so bad, I was thrown into the water early in life, I didn’t know how to swim so I was slowly drowning
I’m speaking metaphorically just in case you don’t know, it’s a comparison of how I wasn’t taught to love properly
Not making any excuses I just want you to see my perspective and retroactively introspect it
I’ve been opening up lately and I want you to know how much I’ve grown by going to therapy to take a break from life and reflect on it
We’ve both changed and matured since then but there are qualities of you that remain and they’re the ones I’ve always loved
I miss our walks, the way we would tease one another, I loved to kiss you in the pouring rain, sometimes biting your lip a little rough
I miss your lips, and holding your hand just because I can and the way we were there for each other when push comes to shove
I’m lucky to have crossed paths with you because sometimes I desire another chance and I have two left feet but I’d dance with you if you wanted me to
No matter what I’ve done you never think less of me and that’s one of my favorite things about you
The days where we would pull each other out of our sadness and straight into a kind of love madness
You’re one of a kind and a lovely distraction, when our eyes meet that’s law of attraction
I love everything about you I don’t know where to begin or even start, like my mom and dad, you’re my high school sweet heart.
JP Goss Dec 2018
She’s going clean
She’s going sober
After the high from chase
Is all but over—
It’s not the envy
But hypocrisy that stings:
We both agreed we’d worry
About more important things—

****** up going 45
I’m lucky enough just to be alive—
Her lips are sealed
She’s all she’ll ever need
I’m seeing double
Looking retroactively.
A three letter ball and chain
(I should have stayed)
A three letter ball and chain
(I should have stayed)

Call it stupid
Or call it fate
20/20 vision
Is too little, too late—
Purse my lips and wrap my arms
To the closet thing around me
And give my vows
To slick roads and sneaky trees—

****** up going 45
I’m lucky enough just to be alive—
Her lips are sealed
She’s all she’ll ever need
I’m seeing double
Looking retroactively.
A three letter ball and chain
(I should have stayed)
A three letter ball and chain
(I should have stayed)

I guess I found the question
To an unsaid answer:
What is hate
But a little love with anger?
I’ve had to stew in shame
As a judgment was made
Right above my name—
There it is,
In my crumpled dashboard:
These black thoughts
Spelled out on my record.

****** up going 45
I’m lucky enough just to be alive—
Her lips are sealed
She’s all she’ll ever need
I’m seeing double
Looking retroactively.
A three letter ball and chain
(I should have stayed)
A three letter ball and chain
(I should have stayed)
Story of my cousin's first DUI.
Frank DeRose Mar 2016
Why
Why the senseless hurt?
The senseless pain?
Why the fear?
The hatred?
Why?

I reflect on my whole life--
Turbulent.
Skinned knees.
Broken hearts.
Pubescent adolescence.
Self-identity.

Turbulent.
I wonder if that's what those passengers felt?
Right before they flew into the World Trade Center?
Was it bumpy?
Like an emergency landing on a beach of scrap metal and office chairs?
Was it turbulent?

Nine-eleven.
Iraq.
Afghanistan.
Osama Bin Laden.
ISIS.

Turbulent.

Why God?
Why?

The Great World War.
Retroactively named World War One.
Because we needed a World War Two.
Pearl Harbor.
Korea.
Vietnam.
Cuba.
Gulf.
Kuwait.
Turbulent.

War.
War.­
War.

Why must we always endure these turbulent and troubling times?

Why must it be so?
Why do we do this to each other?
What motive is so great that we are driven to **** one another?
And in so doing,
**** ourselves?

Is not our humanity greater than this?
What of life?
What of love?

Why, God?
Why do you allow this?
Why must it always continue?

All I ask is that this turbulent world might know peace.
Might know love,
Redemption.
Wholeness.

Because why not?
Written out of frustration during these turbulent and troubling times. I wish the world could find a way to heal itself
anonymous Oct 2016
the sign at the side of the road says "right lane ends"
i yell at it "everything ends"
no one hears me

except maybe god
but god's not watching today
god's TiVoing me
god'll probably get to it later
i get it though
there's supernovas and auroras and kardashians to watch

the christians say that god knit me together in my mother's womb
all fearfully and wonderfully
i get the sense that maybe the good yarn was on back order that day
it's okay god
i also have days when i wake up late and almost miss the bus and forget my part of the group project that's due today

we got this, though

we got lots of ways to glue and macaroni up a brain just right
all this science and not enough places to stick it
i shove a handful through the blood-brain barrier and there it is
home
chemicals so sweet they make me cry glitter

it's funny how things can look the same but feel so different
when kelsey texts that we need to talk, that it needs to be over skype
it fills me with that old dread

it just takes a few words to scoop me out like a pumpkin
they don't last long, after you carve them

i want to take extra antidepressant tomorrow morning
it increases my risk of seizures but i don't care
i'm not sure how many hours i spent today
shuffling through walmart with downcast eyes
occasionally stopping to cry at a toaster or pillowcase

thirty one is mathematically prime
it doesn't feel very prime

when i get to the end of the toothpaste i know i still have time
i roll it and squeeze it and press it and
day after day this tube gives me what i need to get by until
one day it doesn't anymore
that's my thirty one

i watch the sad blue mouthwash disappear into the drain
i'm not sure why

people act like a breakup retroactively erases
all of the joy and value a relationship had
like its impermanence somehow robs it of significance

i figure every relationship ends
either in breakup or death
i don't think it makes them any cheaper

to regret anything is to wish for your own non-existence
without the steps and forking branches that brought you to here, you would be someone else
someone that your parents and best friends might mistake for you

i regret.
Nicole Nov 2018
Tis the season of Christmas music
So I decided to check on Pentatonix
Excited to see a new album out
I delve into it a month early
Whenever I hear them singing
I love and appreciate the art
But a part of me craves that one album
Because I know it'll bring me back

It was an interesting point in my life
I loved a girl who loved me and
I asked her dad for his blessing that month
Her homophobic mom invited me to their dinner
I finally felt more accepted
Even though it was super awkward
We were really happy at that point
I honestly don't know what changed
I don't regret it so much as I don't understand

But I do know that Christmastime
Has been extremely difficult ever since
We spent a few weeks at her dads house
In the middle of nowhere
We cut our own Christmas tree and
I bonded with her dad with call of duty
Our sweet kittens played together
And we got a much-needed break from school

It's hard to look back at that time
My heart hurts even though the memories are positive
I miss her a lot sometimes
Mostly because I feel as though
That relationship was unfair to her
I was emotionally unavailable
But I didn't know it
And I know she messed up too but
We both made mistakes in it all
I just sometimes wish I had had
The tools needed to address the problem

I didn't know what was happening
I didn't know what I was feeling
I knew I was unhappy and hurting
But I didn't understand why
I think what's hard about this one
Is that I can retroactively label it all
Unfortunately that doesn't actually match
All of the things that I said back then
I was cruel to her
Because I knew it'd make her let me go
And I needed to be alone and free
But I chose a twisted path to get there
And for that I'm sorry
I had this realization tonight. My best friend made a comment a week ago about how I don't celebrate Christmas, and it confused me. I didn't know why until tonight when I was listening to Christmas music that made me feel happy in anticipation of (nonreligious) Christmas activities. I realized that I didn't enjoy the holiday last year because it was the first year after my ex fiancé and I broke up and I have some amazing memories from the last Christmas we spent together. I think I repressed a lot of my positive feelings about the holiday because I still have a lot of sadness surrounding the good memories.
Owen Phillips Nov 2012
Anomic gloom and arrogant fear
Every invisible rumbling is a machine bent on my death.
Nothing conveys me to power
For I'm left to retroactively question each choice I make
As if logic was absent and I wasn't acting by choice
But impelled to be insolent
By the inner rust and complicated working
Of my meat-and-bones practice run
For my Faberge machine body
             (even as I admit this
I wrench open a kind of window
Into a mostly forgotten dream
Of a conference with some kind of
Goddess)
I'll soon be surprised
With a sudden initiation into reality
Elfin mischief and hysterical laughter spiraling around me in a climactic fireworks display
"This is really happening. This is what it was all about. This is what it's all been leading towards. This is where there's no turning back" it laughs in my face as the agony of endless ****** nearly knocks me senseless and motionless
There are souls caught up in the works and the kingdom of heaven is in disarray as we sort out our identity crisis of species here on profane planet earth. Gaia holds her breath and hopes we do not leave too big a mark when we explode ourselves.
anonymous Oct 2016
the sign at the side of the road says "right lane ends"
i yell at it "everything ends"

people act like a breakup retroactively erases
all of the joy and value a relationship had
like its impermanence somehow robs it of significance

i figure every relationship terminates
either in breakup or death
i don't think it makes them any cheaper

to regret anything is to wish for your own non-existence
without the steps and forking branches that brought you here, you would be someone else
someone that your parents and best friends might mistake for you

i regret
Joanna Oz Dec 2015
there are some things that do not wash from skin.
even more that can stain a mind
beyond the finesse of chemical cocktails or fire to purify.
birth marks and blood omens and
calling cards of demonic henchmen.
harmless helicopter seeds shed
flakes into a ****** garden,
a second-hand inoculation, mute until retroactively
activated.
a forged acquiescence
to a sprouting voice of dissent:

                                                "you?we­ren't you wise enough to know?
you, fortune-teller, mystic mistress, reader of skies, you
how did your intuition lead you blindfolded into a werewolf's den?
you, knowing the heart's riddled map of blood,
you, knowing the incessant looping of events,
you, knowing the enthralling
addiction of desire, shame on you, after all,
boys will be boys - don't pretend
you did not suspect it of your friends, too.
sayings are rooted in truth,
and themes on that mantra have been force-fed to you since age five, you swallowed
that pill dry (remember? throat surrendering its gag-reflex
like a good little girl, masking the strain) and its been re-administered
in endless refrain
as medicine, as supplication, as pledge, as training - don't you act surprised.
by the ripe and raw pulsation of twenty-two
you
have surely learned the golden rule:
your body
was not built
for you.
your skin,
your flesh,
your
body is:
a pilgrimage to grasp the heat of god,
a beacon on moonless nights,
a temple to spill hungry prayers upon,
an ancient altar of blood sacrifice.
honor your obligation, your tribute, your destiny.
submit to the iron-rod trademark upon your breast.
it will not wash clean, trust me, there are some things
that do not wash from skin."

even more that can claim a mind.
This doodling Yankee (boot noah dandy)
doth newt lack chutzpah,
tries to finagle Fitbit fitting figurative footwear,
that ideally Fitzhugh
like custom made glove snugly,
terrifically, unequivocally matching,
thence handily solving Finger hut issue,
when or if arctic blasts cold
doggedly enveloped Gaea,
whence  humans analogously held hostage
linkedin among fellow Earthlings freezing,
frost bitten, gangrenous hominids
scurrying haphazardly searching vainly
from shelter ring sky (with mother's little helper)
each primate scrambling

(as unrepentant, recalcitrant outlier)
once (what seems millenniums ago) livingsocial
jackknifed habitat fractured,
essentially damning Crispr bungled ambition
grist for raconteur spewing sought aide
telling tales amidst the mill by  Ponderosa Pine
drawing a crowd of curious onlookers,
who forewent idling away time structured existence,
thus, nary a clock watcher weathering whims
as mother nature doth channel
capriciously, felicitously,

and indubitably stripped away
bow ring pastime asper watching paint dry
now tis each man, woman and child to
(seeketh dale and hill) to duff fend themselves
whereat mortality will steal immoral majority linkedin
encapsulated, housed, kindled
within luxurious faux existence
capitalistic dreams engendered existence fleeced
devoid of featherbed,

indeed mollycoddled memories
yanked wherein current rank and file
endowing superlative creature comforts
reduce wretched survivors
scant band of bare naked ladies
beastie boys, foo fighters espying counting crows
ready to buzzfeed toe kin **** sapiens

bereft, expunged, faux invincibility kickstarting
learning basic survival skills
forced to rescind twenty first century trappings
shifting paradigm sans primacy
pitting dishabille helpless imps against pearl jam killers
who do not shrink from ethically principled,

but give full reign to selfish callous deleterious foibles,
gruesome harmful indiscretions
sprouting with mushroom rhizome rapidity
ousting the  omnipresently
(well nigh since time immemorial
virtues cultivated, futilely integrated, lending oomph
residentially, scientifically tendering ubiquitous DNA
foisting gabled, heralded, instilled,

justified kneaded love thy neighbor motto
lyft ting in one fell swoop delicately
embroidered, finely graven, heavenly ideals
no more patent leather shoes reflecting up
nor doodling Yankee staking claim to fame
via feathered cap made of macaroni
thus such jingoistic, holistic,
fabric ripped retroactively
ramping atavistic simian base,
thus leveling the playing field.
Apachi Ram Fatal Jun 2017
the night we stay with Satan\
shore cycles of Karma will swing\
true plink betwix auditorium plunk\
Kin deep wreaking frail grim reap\
Keeping the Peace maker horn\
charmer reborn slumber Sparrow\
swarm base oiling gladness churn\
long face wide zygomorphic burial\
laced golden silence relish relics daze\
tyrance maze efface miraculous Mayans\
fingere lunge literal transliterating Dunya\
          distill animation by God triangulate\
  Panagia onomatopoeia layman infiltratIon\
red writen circuit burnt innocence clipped\
insulant urn of the surgat son\
opening null locking sun in all dials\
primeval mercifulness\
primordial noteworthiness\
may be relieving points for taking\
and giving a flying shackle **** back\
one down pass it around another lie\

shoved down the throat again\
found in the bottomless pit awake it\
() thing worse than being lost when\
it's your Necessities that are looking\
Ain't that the truth although tainted\
Eluding absentmindedly words\
flow retroactively channeling\
purposeful jurisdiction thinking\
actuality is thee meant to be what\

consequently conceptualized where\
attitudes collect pealing aptitude\
manifests inception dictated in\
comforts own skin pretentious\
dictators impose upon Carthage Pillars\
irritatedly prioritizing Pagan fillers\
reflect surround sinners encroach\

exploring Asia Minor capacity inspect delve interest\
coach self linguist design intellect major retrospect\
outspand intrinsically extort distortion awaken\
infernal declarations transmogrify\
straight lines entwine utterance\
embrace praise Raise feathers halo\
  Altitude of the Almighty deity maker\
genuflect bare Manitou provocate heir bait\

albeit Iron Maiden answers prayers fate\
giveth and be not deceived receive\
A divinity Key degree Aleph hook creek\
handling sobbing grief debrief steam decree\
kneeling bleeding evaporate disguised healing\
trees spree free be guarded prophetic maven\
emancipate  to the seventh greet Phoenician Valhalla Heavens\
We haven't left the dark ages
here is hope wishing we will
Graff1980 Jan 2016
Why do I seek truth? I must be careful to not retroactively define the reasons behind my seeking of the truth. If I list the best reasons for seeking the truth as I understand them now. I might define my previous attempts by my current understanding. This is dangerous to the truth because are memories are an ever evolving things adapting to the input of new information all the time. I actually understood this before I ever listened to the audio book on memory. Which was a couple months ago. I wrote a poem describing the process.
Why should one seek the truth? To build a better brain
The constant pursuit of new truths creates new neural pathways not only does this prevent the disintegration of old neural pathways by reinforcing them and rewiring them into other pathways it also increases (speculatively) the density of neural pathway. This should help prevent or postpone things like Alzheimer’s or dementia which seems to be something that might run in my family. Although, I wish I had such foresight when I was younger, I cannot honestly ascribe that to my reasons.

The truth empowers us. Our options are limited by our current understanding of reality. If we do not know that there is way we cannot pursue that way. If we think we cannot, we never will. Understanding there are almost infinite paths to any giving destination allows us the fortitude and freedom to push through obstacles, from any situation. This has not always been my reasoning but it to is a good one.

Fear is a good reason to seek the truth, and one that is probably much closer to my original intentions. Fear stems from uncertainty. If you know something bad is going to happen you can learn to accept it or by referencing the previous paragraph you can find a way to change it. As young man I was afraid of myself more than anything. I was curious about the cruelty of humans because of my mom’s behavior, and those around me. As much as I would like to believe otherwise I was very reactionary and I still am. My pursuits where a matter of whims. Educational reading did not really start until after I developed a taste for fiction. Even now I am a lazy self-educator. Well, lazy by the standards of what I know I am capable of. It has been my understanding that many people do not engage in much introspection and self-education. It is not their fault they are constantly bombarded by the pressures of life which sap their time and willpower.
Now I am getting bored with this process of self-discovery so I am going to go back to engaging in mindless dvd entertainment.
Graff1980 Jan 2017
Why do I seek truth? I must be careful to not retroactively define the reasons behind my seeking of the truth. If I list the best reasons for seeking the truth as I understand them now. I might define my previous attempts by my current understanding. This is dangerous to the truth because our memories are an ever evolving things adapting to the input of new information all the time. I actually understood this before I ever listened to the audio book on memory. Which was a couple months ago. I wrote a poem describing the process.
Why should one seek the truth? To build a better brain
The constant pursuit of new truths creates new neural pathways not only does this prevent the disintegration of old neural pathways by reinforcing them and rewiring them into other pathways it also increases (speculatively) the density of neural pathway. This should help prevent or postpone things like Alzheimer’s or dementia which seems to be something that might run in my family. Although, I wish I had such foresight when I was younger, I cannot honestly ascribe that to my reasons.
The truth empowers us. Our options are limited by our current understanding of reality. If we do not know that there is way we cannot pursue that way. If we think we cannot we never will. Understanding there are almost infinite paths to any giving destination allows us the fortitude and freedom to push through obstacles, for any situation. This has not always been my reasoning but it to is a good one.
Fear is a good reason to seek the truth, and one that is probably much closer to my original intentions. Fear stems from uncertainty. If you know something bad is going to happen you can learn to accept it or by referencing the previous paragraph you can find a way to change it. As young man I was afraid of myself more than anything. I was curious about the cruelty of humans because of my mom’s behavior, and those around me. As much as I would like to believe otherwise I was very reactionary and I still am. My pursuits where a matter of whims. Educational reading did not really start until after I developed a taste for fiction. Even now I am a lazy self-educator. Well, lazy by the standards of what I know I am capable of. It has been my understanding that many people do not engage in much introspection and self-education. It is not their fault they are constantly bombarded by the pressures of life which sap their time and willpower.
Now I am getting bored with this process of self-discovery so I am going to go back to engaging in mindless dvd entertainment.
Graff1980 Feb 2018
They agree with me
retroactively,
say they
were always
against the hate,

but I remember when
those women
and men
came rolling in
with their rage,

when they said
the immigrants
were to blame,
when the few
who stood against them
were defamed.

It has happened
again and again,
blacklists,
secret prisons,
social poisons,
marches,
white rage,
fascism.
The masses join in
while we keep struggling.

Then when
peace swings
back in,
when the pendulum
is less threatening
I hear them say
that they never behaved
that way. *******!

I’ll bet their grandchildren will proclaim
“I could never be led astray the same way.”
Then make the same about face.
I associate crushes with dread
A sinking feeling
Even as a child, choosing a crush was a source of anxiety
I chose the boys I wanted to skateboard like
And steal the smiles of

That's not exactly true
I'm retroactively choosing information to fit my current narrative
I'll try again

We all want to be liked
And feeling like one of the guys
And liking those same guys
Has always been entwined for me
There's electricity for me in that safety
John Darnielle May 2020
You will not call my memory into question
You will not question my memory
See there was you and me up on a hilltop by ourselves
And then the red clouds dispersing above me
I should have killed myself
When I found out how beautiful you are
But everyone makes mistakes sometimes

As the afternoon sky opened up its mouth
And the air cooled down one or two degrees
I felt the world within me screaming to come out
and then I looked up at you and your hair spilled down over me

I felt you breathing on me and I heard your voice
Your eyes were twin bonfires and your lips were moist
I should have killed myself
When I found out how beautiful you are
But everyone makes mistakes sometimes
Graff1980 Oct 2017
Dear memories,

I regret to inform you
time will malform you
as you are retroactively reshaped
to deal with your limited
understanding of today.

Dear compassion,

I am saddened to say
this will not be
the end of your pain.
As you see more and come to learn
the world may still turn
but you will burn
in agony.

Dear heart,

It is my duty to tell you
that despite the breaks
that have found you
there will be more to come,
unless you decide
it is time to run.

Dear dreams,

You have been recruited.
Your hopeful nature
will never be disputed.
We must now work together
and find a way to
challenge each other.

Dear me,

I am glad that you
are not yet
a casualty
of the callousness
of our society and I hope
we shall overcome
the horrors yet to come.
This doodling Yankee
(boot noah dandy)
doth newt lack chutzpah,
tries to finagle Fitbit
fitting figurative footwear,

that ideally Fitzhugh
like custom made glove snugly,
terrifically, unequivocally matching,
thence handily solving
Finger hut issue,

when or if arctic blasts cold
doggedly enveloped Gaea,
whence humans analogously
held as tumblr hostage

linkedin among
fellow Earthlings freezing,
frost bitten, gangrenous hominids
scurrying haphazardly
searching vainly

from shelter ring sky
(with mother's little helper)
each primate scrambling

(as unrepentant, recalcitrant outlier)
once (what seems millenniums ago)
livingsocial jackknifed habitat fractured,
essentially damning Crispr

bungled ambition
grist for raconteur spewing sought aide
telling tales amidst the mill
by Ponderosa Pine

drawing a crowd of curious onlookers,
who forewent idling
away time structured existence,
thus, nary a clock watcher

weathering whims
as mother nature doth channel
capriciously, felicitously,

and indubitably stripped away
bow ring pastime
asper watching paint dry
now tis each man, woman and child to
(seeketh dale and hill)

to duff fend themselves
whereat mortality will steal
immoral majority linkedin
encapsulated, housed, kindled

within luxurious faux existence
capitalistic dreams engendered
existence fleeced
devoid of featherbed,

indeed mollycoddled memories
yanked wherein current rank and file
endowing superlative creature comforts
reduce wretched survivors

scant band of bare naked ladies
beastie boys, foo fighters
espying counting crows
ready to buzzfeed toe kin
**** sapiens

bereft, expunged, faux
invincibility kickstarting
learning basic survival skills
forced to rescind

twenty first century trappings
shifting paradigm sans primacy
pitting dishabille helpless imps
against perverted pearl jam killers
who do not shrink
from ethically principled,

but give full reign to selfish
callous deleterious foibles,
gruesome harmful indiscretions
sprouting with mushroom
rhizome rapidity

ousting the omnipresently
(well nigh since time immemorial
virtues cultivated,
futilely integrated, lending oomph

residentially, scientifically
tendering ubiquitous DNA
foisting gabled, heralded, instilled,

justified kneaded love
thy neighbor motto
lyft ting in one fell
swoop delicately
embroidered, finely graven,

heavenly ideals
no more patent leather shoes
reflecting up
nor doodling Yankee
staking claim to fame,

via feathered cap made of macaroni
thus such jingoistic, holistic,
fabric ripped retroactively
ramping atavistic simian base,
thus leveling playing field.
Heavenly Pyramids
Heavenly pyramids pointlessly
Point in the gradient Earth:
Piercing as though the fallen mess
Is to meaningless vane juxtapose.

Dust, elevating self, courageous
Seek those points to erase,
Shooting skies, jealousy’ callousness
Heaping in hoping to praise…

Jet-streams like breathing attractively
Follow the ambulant flows, –
Waters react retroactively,
Feeding the decadent growth.

Crusts elevating, of fire abode,
Trembling the pyramids-points,
Turn upside down the upper voids, –
Or just the ever-doomed pots…

Stairs must meet in the imminent
But indescribable place:
Solstice vernal while deeming, in
Serpents arrive on their mace.

Feathers are colorful – look and see –
Point between temples for that:
This is the meeting of Truth and Glee –
Where all pyramids met!..
thelonious Aug 2020
Does it really matter?
Matter (n) - the substance of which a physical object is composed

Does it? (really matter?)
        It it it

What is it? (they say, “what is it?”)
        It (p) - that one —used as subject or direct object or indirect object of a verb or object of a preposition usually in reference to a lifeless thing

It is a 1986 horror novel by American author Stephen King.

It (also know as Stephen King’s It) is a 1990 American ABC two-part psychological drama miniseries directed by Tommy Lee Wallace and adapted by Lawrence D. Cohen from Stephen King’s 1986 novel of the same name.

Woh (English: It) is a Hindi language Indian television horror-thriller series which aired on Zee TV in 1998. It is an adaptation of the 1990 American TV miniseries It.

It, retroactively known as It Chapter One, is a 2017 American supernatural horror film based on Stephen King’s 1986 novel of the same name.

It Chapter Two is a 2019 American supernatural horror film and a sequel to the 2017 film It, both based on the 1986 novel by Stephen King.

John Wayne Gacy was an American serial killer and *** offender known as the Killer Clown who assaulted and murdered at least 33 young men and boys.

John Wayne was an American, too.

John William Gacy is caught in endless cycles of reincarnation, but you thought I was talking about William H. Macy.

They say that history does not repeat itself, but that it often rhymes.

Mark Twain said that. Mark Twain was also an American.

Mark Twain didn’t actually say that. Mark Twain didn’t say a lot of things.

John Wayne isn’t actually John Wayne. He’s Marion Morrison.

Mark Twain isn’t actually Mark Twain. He’s Samuel Clemens.

Stephen King is just Stephen King. (but also Richard Bachman, and John Swithen, and Beryl Evans.
Dan Hess Dec 2019
Low density
slow entropy
expansive ethereal
immaterial inclusive
conducive conclusive
collective perspective

Interjected perplexing
Vexed intensive directive

Perspicacious intonations
repulsed over nullified
Emulsified dry mindless intrinsic duplicitous insistances
redacted and reacted upon retroactively,
in posthumous alacrity,
as backed and packed to me
are primitive tenacities
by classless massless animalistic catastrophes
in baseless traceless
uniformly adjacent replacements

Tasteless abasement
in braced,
placed erasure of nature
Replace her with infrastructure
Good old abundant mother, **** her

I'd love to plug her with rubber
unsung troubles debug her
rewind and entice
and drown and rend blind with devices incisively derisively winding
her planar engagements
to ownership taken
forsaken by god
but we're shaken by odds
of new values in clods
of endowments toward rods of power each hour we glower
and how her entreatment
might trap and devour
if we weren't so clever
we'd sever our heads as we shower
in the ichor of the dead
and instead we're just thicker than blood
with our money and crud
replace water with crude
and a bad attitude

I'd be true to the money
but wouldn't it be funny
if deigned be the dummy
as warless and lost
in the loathesome defrosting
of planetary exhaustion?

Now tell me the cost
of the death and the offing
of all we've been coughing
to the air we've been drawing from
gnawing the earth to her bones
always want some more worth from our home
but it's worthless if we end up alone
We used to be spiritual
Now it's all about that empirical material imperial
Graff1980 Aug 2021
It's easier to deal with an enemy
when he's dead,
because you can change what he said,
reworking it retroactively
to make it so you both agree
like Richard Daley did with Martin Luther King
Jr.

But if you don’t want to wait for death then
you can co-op or cop people's thoughts
so you can sell them some slick ****,
that prepackaged can of emotional spam
that lets self-serving men rewrite history
to suit their capitalistic autocratic
caste system that casts victims
of the almost mindless majority.
Graff1980 Jan 2021
I’m the mental man
made of immortal stuff,
the kind of fluff
that lets me
retroactively
justify the things I see.
Graff1980 Jul 2021
Our society is a symptom
of the sins of sick men
passed on to the next generation,
a slow disintegration
of our once hopeful nation
that never lived up to the principles
it was founded on.

Even when it sounded strong
it was always acting wrong.
The melting *** where
ingredients only belong
selectively and retroactively
when it's convenient for those empowered
by our corrupt society.

It's such a privilege
to witness and write this
practically garbage reflection;
I'm allowed to be witless
because of my whiteness
and dismiss any mess
that doesn't conform to my biases.

While political hucksters,
those suit and tie wearing
evening tv tricksters
these diseased minds,
news magicians
that claim thinking is sedition,
war is peace, greed is good
and only a seditionist would
question their perspectives,
talking points that are as fluid
and as gross as the bile and congestion
the curdles in my stomach as I listen to them.
While the fox news orators swim in,
stinking sewage, women and children
keep sinking, drowning in an ocean
of crippling poverty and emotions.
This doodling Yankee
(boot noah dandy)
doth newt lack chutzpah,
tries to finagle Fitbit
fitting figurative footwear,
that ideally Fitzhugh
like custom made glove snugly,
terrifically, unequivocally matching,
thence handily solving Finger
hut two three four issue,
when or if arctic blasts cold

doggedly enveloped Gaea,
whence  humans analogously held hostage
linkedin among fellow Earthlings freezing,
frost bitten, gangrenous hominids
scurrying haphazardly searching vainly
from shelter ring sky
(with mother's little helper)
each primate scrambling
(as unrepentant, recalcitrant outlier)
once (what seems millenniums ago) livingsocial

jackknifed habitat fractured,
essentially damning Crispr bungled ambition
grist for raconteur spewing sought aide
telling tales amidst the mill
by Ponderosa Pine
drawing a crowd of curious onlookers,
who forewent idling away
time structured existence,
thus, nary a clock watcher weathering whims
as mother nature doth channel

capriciously, felicitously, and indubitably
stripped away facade housing Potemkin Village
bow ring pastime asper watching paint dry,
now tis each man, woman and child to
(seeketh dale and hill re:)
to duff fend themselves,
whereat mortality will steal
immoral majority linkedin
encapsulated, housed, kindled
within luxurious faux charade existence

capitalistic dreams engendered existence fleeced
devoid of featherbed,
indeed mollycoddled memories
yanked wherein current rank and file
endowing superlative creature comforts
reduce wretched survivors
scant band of bare naked ladies
beastie boys, foo fighters
espying counting crows
ready to buzzfeed toe kin **** sapiens

bereft, expunged, faux invincibility kickstarting
learning basic survival skills
forced to rescind twenty first century trappings
shifting paradigm sans primacy
pitting dishabille helpless imps
against pearl jam killers
who do not shrink
from ethically principled covenant,
but give full reign to selfish
callous deleterious foibles,

gruesome harmful indiscretions
sprouting with mushroom rhizome rapidity
ousting the  omnipresently
(well nigh since time immemorial
virtues cultivated, futilely
integrated, lending oomph
residentially, scientifically
tendering ubiquitous DNA
foisting gabled, heralded, instilled,
justified kneaded love thy neighbor motto

lyft ting in one fell swoop delicately
embroidered, finely graven, heavenly ideals
no more patent leather shoes reflecting up
nor as iterated doodling uber Yankee
staking claim to fame
via feathered cap made of macaroni
thus such jingoistic, holistic,
fabric ripped retroactively
ramping atavistic simian base,
thus leveling the playing field.
Alternately titled: 111th leap year since 1582
the year Pope Gregory XIII world leader
(i.e. essentially paterfamilias among
Roman Catholic flock)
timely maneuvered around calendrical rock
and hard space implementing
viable system tracking years ad hoc
out of sync and lock
step by one day
with astronomical calendar,

slated more'n acceptable tick tock
off kilter around the year of 4818
after common era making mock
re: regarding mankind organizing and
witnessing global chockablock
Democratic celebratory anniversary party
millenniums after Republican dynastic deadlock
thoroughly walled imponderable gridlock
worse fate than quaffing hemlock
practically snuffing out lock, stock

and barrel constitutional birthrights
thirteen original American
founding fathers ghosts experiencing shock
how initial inalienable rights
activists sacrificing life and limb
united with linkedin armlock
said freedom fighters shackled
within crowded jail moldering cinderblock
cold upon hemorrhoid riddle buttock
diehard libertarians unified, pilloried, denounced

legion with repulsion as Shylock
purported, reputed, touted playwright
(William Shakespeare's sited anti semite
The Merchant Of Venice) doth mock
Judaism in vogue four hundred plus years ago,
smoldering think white supremacists i.e. skinheads
violently aiming to knock
non Caucasians upside the head
courtesy pistol whip,
and/or emptying gunstock

into human flesh disenfranchise scaring up
one after another racial and/or ethnic aftershock
aforementioned celebrated bard unwittingly
strictly opinion of me:silly poet -
despite hashtagged as laughingstock,
(plus vitriolic objection taken)
voiced by Shakespearean expert defenders,
yours truly reckons mine thought provoking blurb
regarding storied, lauded, and feted Globe theater
literary King my interpretations not crock

Earth's orbit around the Sun (year)
and rotation on its axis (day) where
latter not perfectly in line there
by necessitating
smooth functioning of Gregorian calendar
(also called New Style Calendar)
which did premiere
fifteen eighty two courtesy king's spear.

Ever since 1752, whence
in the modern sense
the first leap year implemented
madding crowds reportedly rioted
most likely uttering expletive
than "what nonsense"

reportedly riots erupted
courtesy chaos did arrange,
when England made the change
spurring some citizens
demanding immediate compensatory exchange
they get their 11 days back home on their range
from the government haint so strange.

To determine whether a year is a leap year,
follow these steps without Fanfare
For The Common Man
the famous title of Aaron Copland air:

1. If the year is evenly divisible by 4,
go to step 2. Otherwise, go to step 5.

2. If the year is evenly divisible by 100,
go to step 3. Otherwise, go to step 4.

3. If the year is evenly divisible by 400,
go to step 4. Otherwise, go to step 5.

4. The year is a leap year (it has 366 days).

5. The year is not a leap year (it has 365 days)
   The Gregorian calendar will have gained a day by the year 4818 CE (2,794 years from now), so at some point there will be a Gregorian leap year specially made not a leap year. The logical thing to do would be to make 3204 CE not a leap year, pushing the calendar from 1/2 day ahead of the solar year to 1/2 day behind the solar year. Making that decision is about 1,000 years in the future.
     The Gregorian calendar is still slightly too long relative to the mean tropical year (which very slowly gets shorter). At some point in the future, it will be necessary to have fewer leap years (or days), not more. No one has agreed to anything yet, but the 400 year centennial rule could be changed to 500 years, the millennial leap year in 4000 (and some other future dates) could be skipped, various other possibilities, but all require a reduction in leap years, not a double leap year or extra leap years.
     The first leap year was in 45BC. There were supposed to be 12 leap years from 45BC through 1 BC, but there might have been an extra because the Romans initially botched the implementation of the system. But let’s say there were 12. Then, had the Julian calendar been kept all this time there would have been another 500 leap years from 4AD through 2000AD for a total of 512 leap years by now. But most of us are using the Gregorian calendar. This fact makes the question subject to different interpretations. When switching to the Gregorian calendar countries using it agree to retroactively cancel leap years that the Gregorian calendar would not have recognized if it were in place since the beginning (45 BC). 1BC would still have been a leap year (it corresponds to 0000AD) but of the remaining intervening 20 years ending in 00AD, only 5 of them would have been leap years, meaning, if you accept that interpretation, 512–15 = 497 is the total number of leap years so far.
     But there’s another interpretation, that once a leap year is acknowledged in a place in history, there was a leap year then regardless of whether the Gregorian calendar was adopted there at some time later. Since the dates of adoption range from the late 1500’s to the early 1900s that would mean that some places have skipped over only 3 leap years out of the 512 (beginning with 1700) some 2 leap years of the 512, some 1 of the 512, and some haven’t skipped any (those places that kept the Julian calendar until around WWI, such as Russia.) So in this interpretation, depending on the country you’re interested in there have been either 509, 510, 511 or 512 leap years since 45BC.
Graff1980 Apr 2021
I’m not ready to go,
but got lost in the flow.

I’ve estimated
I will be decimated
by the next disaster
humanity has created.

I’ve wasted time
trying to find
the truth behind
these divided minds,
whiles other have
just retroactively justified
their hate crimes.

It seems peace
is only a dream
that I find
when I let myself
go to sleep
along with
the rest of the
waking walking
sheep.
Dan Hess Nov 2021
08
Alliteration is hard



An amusing affectation afforded against all authenticity

Living lies luxuriously, lamenting in my lowly lacking

Leering lackluster; levity lost loquaciously

In interest inimitable, isolated in illusions illustrated incoherent

To take triumph, tackle tumult; tie treaties toward the torment’s trite theatrics

Elevate exposure, even entrenched in evanescence; expectation eventually ends; elation endures

Revitalize, remember; roaming rot relinquished retroactively

Again, an avenue against accustomed aggravation; art alleviates

Traveling to taste time’s tales; a taxing task toppled

Indebted, in individuality’s internment, innovated; inundated in insight

On overarching opportunity’s offerance, one overcomes oblivion

Nothing neglected, new nights near; nidificate nuance, newly niche November

— The End —