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Mateuš Conrad Feb 2017
when i was born within the Chernobyl aftermath, and the nurse tried to **** me, in that she almost choked me, enlarging my heart, and when that didn't **** me, and they attempted to befriend me, and gave me a brain haemorrhage... and that didn't **** me... i started to think: what will? i can't say i'm in hell, i can only assert limbo: i'm not a monster, just yet... it's only later that i became *******, when they wrapped me in a blanket of denials, to ensure their society was a beacon of false hope and even more false love... that last bit is the cherry on the top... i once hated ridicule: now i started to loath playground like games of lies... i just started thinking: these people are a bit worthless... how could people i once respected become so... so... pointless? it's not a case of: oh poor me... i'm laughing... asking for the next quickened allotment of epitaph in marble... i prefer the pain rather than this kiddy game of denying something being true... that sort of **** just makes up for being thought about too much... it exhaust my mental capacity... limbo is quiet fine, i'm apprehensive where these people think they live... utopia isn't exactly a best-described vicinity... but when did people start to become so ugly? it's slow down here, the big bang just happened, or as i say: with the kettle boiling water... biology's darwinism timescale for a reaction, and physics's timescale of the big bang theory are not exactly fascinating for me, boiling my water to make a cup of tea... i am literally split-mind concerning these two "barometres"... it's just hard juggling these two (0, 0) coordinates... to stress a beginning... evidently juggling these two narratives leaves us living our lives on amphetamines... insect like... it's hard to even make time or emotional investment in: a death in a village... it's doubly hard to make adjustments for a tomorrow, giving our input in beginning: no one knows, billions and billions... years... and then back toward the befitting cranium... it really is man with an omni-characteristic, well... at least one of them... which clarifies itself in a way: given that we're no longer exploring this orb, globalisation ensured the tribe died... we can go in circles: round and round... there's never a clear vector in sight... no real unknown land to challenge... it's all been tamed... once the savannah, now the zoo... as one german noted: the melancholy of the completed house... all the work gone into constructing it, the thrills, all gone... it just stands as perfect, as it is already derelict... hard to keep track of a two-beginnings system... it's hard to find awe these days, i mean awe that might allow an Aristotle, rather than just looking stupid... i think that England really does require an invasion to shake it up a little bit, it looks so docile in its arguments... so certain: "poised" to conquer... i can get (0, 0) of the big bang, a big blank... my brain just became scrambled eggs... i store that **** in my head: i'll see forever-never-tomorrow... i store the monkey-suit in my head (the other (0, 0) beginning) - i'll begin to wonder: but the monkeys have it so easy! me panda! me and bamboo! darwinism has either killed of history that we made in the centuries a.d. / a few centuries b.c., or what they're prescribing us really can't fit into one head, or into a few, to make it into a crowd... because when a few ditto-heads ingest one wise monkey talking over another monkey... the atheistic crowd is the quickest to disperse... as with the constant banging on about the number of stars in the universe... i like to look at the number of carbon dioxide bubbles in a glass of Perrier water.

well, maybe because they aren't
my contemporaries... but i despise Chopin
like despise Liszt... the fact that the latter
smoked cigars is just asking
for me to abhor him... and that a poet
   succumbed to his virtuoso skills
with dire tears of
       a jealous thread (matt arnold)...
for me Liszt and Chopin battered the piano,
literally, battered the piano...
     could have slaughtered a cow also...
but then again there's a part of my that says:
well, if the god argument is infantile,
how about the nation argument, is that infantile also?
are we to be bleached entities,
or merely abstract pronoun users? you see,
   they stole Copernicus from the Poles,
and Mickiewicz, and evidently Chopin is no Pole...
but a prize nonetheless... so they keep him
as that rare thing: something born into an almost
inescapable state prone to disintegration...
   what with the monarchy being
     one of import, either a Swedish electer ruler,
or a Hungarian, or a Russian, or a German (e.g.
house of Sas) - a monarchical brothel,
   otherwise known as an aristocratic "democracy"...
    it's just a good thing i don't like him... i don't see how
a piano can be ***** as it has been by either Liszt or
Chopin, sure enough, nimple fingers,
joseph ii hapsburg, mozart, the film amadeus citation:
                                                               too many notes...
    a bit like me... for its worth, the piano is so delicate,
    so so delicate... how it becomes an instrument that
requires competitors, how you need more virtuosos
who can play the **** music than original from-scratch
composers... piano: it just asks for gliding hands,
it's not asking for these megalomanic
tunes that might leave you with a wish from an audience
memember: to break your fingers...
evidently nothing more than a death / ******* stare...
or why the true resting place
of Chopin is Japan... as odd as it might seem...
           plays the piano great... plays a woman
  like a bagpipe...
                  aren't the two related?
     and when i first heard *ola gjeilo
on the radio
i was a woman watching a romcom...
                              the whole northern lights album...
my: a feast!
         just one of the few contemporary composers
that i can invoke...
     so coming back to the piano:
   me more of a Debussy and Eric Satie palette...
they just glide... i can only imagine
       a flight of migrating swans,
   or ice-skating...
    Chopin and Liszt is a mathematical headache...
        solo piano and the gentleness of approach...
    and only today,
   a lesbian couple travelling to manchester...
one of them phoned the radio station
and asked for a request...
      i've been dying to note this song / composer
down for a year or so... always heard the song:
never the composer's name...
                   ludovico einaudi,
much to my taste: the piano still remains
   a wardrobe item of the orchestral architecture,
rather than a door of your fridge...
constantly yapping for: more, more, more.
you glide across it,
tease it, rather than taste it,
  or subject it to a rubric of quickened calculation,
it stuff the room,
the best you can do is make it sound airy,
    make diacritical echoes from it,
than actual letters...
           say: the acute above the o, rather than
the o and acute in ó....
such a delicate thing: the piano:
which is why i never understood Chopin,
or felt a need for a national argument
       needing him, propping him on a peddlestool...
having him as a national treasure...
                  i always remained true to
those who settled for gliding over the alphabet...
    rather than immersing themselves in it...
that kind of composition, that simply fakes lazy...
     they are the ones i admire...
     and yes, given that dialectics has been
completely forsaken,
   the best we can do is give an indulgence
in an opinion, and make comments of
diacritic...
   women, chocolates,
men: dialectics...
                    or at least that's how i find myself,
making diacritic comments...
   akin to piano (contra chess,
    white notes consonants,
black notes vowels,
or should i say: any letter with a diacritical
distinction is the black note,
vowels and consonants are uniform in white)...
Noelle Matthews Oct 2023
girlhood is clinging to each other, heads on laps and intertwined fingers.

girlhood is crying with each other, over love or sickness or the depth of life and the end of it all.

girlhood is eating ten potato chips, nine cubes of cheese, eight skittles,  seven apple slices, six chocolate chips, five small pickles, four carrot sticks, three ibuprofen, two cookies, and one tangerine.

girlhood is feeling a desperate need to get out, go far, be free.

girlhood is realizing your friends are similar to you but also so beautifully and insurmountably different.

girlhood is figuring out how to be good in a world that thinks there's nothing you could do to make that happen.

girlhood is rolling on the floor laughing at the dumb romcom playing on the tv.

girlhood is ignoring the yelling from behind you, walking faster even if you think you'll trip.

girlhood is sitting in the school office after getting dress-coded.

girlhood is hating someone but defending her to any length when a boy wants to say something bad.

girlhood is having weapons within reach.

girlhood is scary, beautiful, confusing, meaningful, formative, trivial, important, connective, loving, hating, all the feelings all at once.

girlhood is ours.
Anna Claxwell May 2015
If I was a character in a romantic comedy, I would probably either be that random hot dog vendor on the side of the street or the best friend that sort of dies off after the first 6 minutes. The girl who has a pretty face but has absolutely zero relevance to the movie. Maybe a witty line here or there but that's it. My problems are so minimal. To others. My crushes are relentless, my sorrows are pathetic, and my all together appearance is lame. I'm the character that drinks white wine in champaign glasses at the bar but cries her self to sleep when the cameras aren't watching. I'm the character that ruins white wedding dresses with finger foods but wonders when it'll be her time to be the starring role in life. I'm the character who is passionately in the love with the bag boy but nobody cares enough to notice, not even him.
Neville Johnson Aug 2022
It was like high school
The three friends who anxiously watched
The dates as they went down
Did they like each other?
Was there any awkwardness?
How about a first kiss?
Savannah set them up
Jenna and Anna conspired
Watching the developments
As if they were voting returns
Yes, Libby and Sayan matched
Cheered on by their fans
The proposal was a topper
For he handed her a Dunkin’ Donuts bag
At the end of the New York Marathon
In which he ran (fit dude!)
And hurriedly got down on one knee
When she became suspicious
As to why Jenna was hiding in the bushes with a camera
This is is a romcom in real life
Infamous one Sep 2015
They love we shared never the same
Once it ended no going back
A closed chapter a failed out come
Start over thinking back
not going that way point of no return
Trying to understand lust
lots of broken trust no time to heal
Meant the world now it's no longer there
Find a place not just another face
Start again find yourself not in another
Hearts heal become emotionally invested
Learn to live and love again it's your life don't let it end
Al Apr 2017
1:46 am
You wake up and roll over in bed
I ask you to light me a cigarette
but I fall back asleep before you can hand it to me

5:00 am
My alarm clock goes off
the ring is a recording of you screaming that we thought was hilarious
I pull on yesterday's pants and your hoodie
You kiss my wrist before I leave

5:30 am
I get back into bed before my mom realizes I was gone
Curl up in my own bed and go back to sleep

7:53 am
I'm already 2 minutes late for my first hour class
I take my medication before I leave
I kick myself for not taking the cigarette at 1:46 am

10:59 am
You text me three times during my math class,
the teacher hates me for it
"AL."
"Guess what."
"I brought you sandwiches from your favorite restaurant in town."
I love that you end every text with a period

11:20 am
You also brought me a *** brownie

12:30 pm
The brownie kicks in
I can't focus on the documentary about gentrification in India
All I can think about is how your hair looked like ****
I go to the bathroom so I can call you and tell you
You call me an *******
I almost tell you I love you before I hang up
But I bite my tongue

1:04 pm
I walk right out of my sixth hour class
in the middle of a lecture
Because everyone's acting like the fact that Rodion is mentally ill
somehow discredits his theories
And I know you read "Crime and Punishment" last year
and I want to know if you're an extraordinary man

1:22 pm
You get your sober friend Ryan to drive us to the theater
for a 2:10 showing of boss baby
you sit in the back seat with me
my eyes are glued to the way your fingers dance with the cigarette
I think you're the most beautiful person in the world
I think that I love you

1:25 pm
I think that the last person I thought those things about
convinced me I wasn't worth love.
And showed me just how cruel love can be
I don't know if I trust you
if I'm being honest.

2:04 pm
You buy me popcorn
and I buy your movie ticket
Somebody calls us ******* when we kiss in the lobby
Neither of us notice until Ryan points it out later

3:48 pm
Boss Baby's over
Neither of us notice because we're kissing
The theater is empty except for me, you, Ryan, and the employee
Ryan tells us we're gay

3:50 pm
By the time we get outside
We're yelling at each other
I'm telling you to stop talking **** about my friends
You're telling me to stop letting people push me around
I'm screaming a paragraph of information you should know
when you interrupt me with a kiss
Quick
Passionate
Beautiful
It only makes me angrier
Are you stupid?
This isn't a ******* romcom, Pete.

4:00 pm
We don't talk the rest of the car ride home
But we pass a cigarette between the two of us
and it's like we made up

5:13 pm
My friend Andrew picks me up
His car smells like ****
I don't say goodbye to you before I go
but I leave a lighter by your car keys
because I know you'll forget one if I don't.

5:57 pm
Andrew keeps picking up more and more people
He says we're "pre-gaming" for the party tonight
He lets me borrow hair product and cologne
Not so I can impress you, of course
Just so I can look good

6:00 pm
I suddenly realize
that out of 6 people in this car
I'm the only one with a ******
I ask to go to the party early

7:14 pm
I send you a text
"I'm here, motherbitch"
Bring me a hoodie. It's cold."
I almost tag "I love you" on the end
but I settle for
"P.S. you're gross and smell bad."

7:16 pm
You respond
"I'm bringing the blue one."
"Hope it'll cover up that ugly shirt you were wearing earlier."
We both know that it's your shirt
"P.S. you have weird leg hair."
"P.P.S. I think the Boss Baby qualifies as an extraordinary man, by Rodion's definition. He seems above the law. I dunno though. Think on it."
Sometimes I think you're a genius

8:37 pm
You're over an hour late
I'm cold
I yell at you the minute you step out of your car
You yell at me for being so selfish
I tell you to never say that about me again
You know that that's a touchy subject

9:22 pm
We haven't spoken since we got in that fight.
I've been drinking a little more than I should

10:10 pm
I gave one of your exes a lap dance
I wink at you over his shoulder
I want all of your attention,
your eyes glued to me.
I want you to forget the rest of the room exists

10:44 pm
I throw up in the bushes by your car
It's unlocked, so I lay down inside
I think about the look in your eyes,
half anger, half adoration.
I think about how I want to tell you that I love you.
I think about how the last person I said that to convinced me
that I don't deserve love.
I think that maybe she had a point.

12:16 am
I don't know when I fell asleep
but when I woke up,
you were sitting in the car next to me.
You aren't smoking, but you're playing with a match.
I think you look beautiful in this light,
just the flame from the match
and the odd shadows that come from inside the house.
You tell me we need to talk.
I tell you to grow a pair and talk to me when we're sober.
You remind me that we're rarely sober at the same time.

12:18 am
I tell you that I'm sorry I'm so mean to you.
You say you know that I don't mean it.
I tell you that I don't want to be another her.
I don't want to treat you the way my ex treated me
because you deserve better than that.
I tell you that you deserve better than me.
You give me an odd look but don't say anything.
I realize that your eyes aren't bloodshot.

12:31 am
I ask you to drive me to the high school
because I realize that I left my car there
earlier today when I decided to cut class.
As you drive
I realize that you never fixed your hair.
I realize that everything about you is messy
and that the bags under your eyes are just getting worse.
I also realize that I think you're the most beautiful person in the world.

12:40 am
When we got to the high school we didn't talk for awhile.
I didn't get out of the car.
You didn't ask me.
We don't look at each other for awhile
but our fingers keep brushing against each other.
I was supposed to be home 40 minutes ago.

12:41 am
You look at me and I realize what you're gonna say.
I can see it in your eyes.
"Al, I just want you to know..."
I know what happens next.
You're going to say that you love me
that you think I'm beautiful
that I'm your best friend
that you want to spend all your free time with me
that you think maybe you'd wanna marry me someday?
Ryan told me you've been telling him these things lately.
I look you in the eyes, trying to stop myself from crying.
"Seriously? Grow the **** up, Pete." I snap.
You don't say it.

12:42 am
I wish I was a better person.
I wish we'd met before she ****** me up.
I wish I could tell you I love you.
I wish you would stop laughing.

12:43 am
You kiss the inside of my wrist,
and I want to smack you but I don't.
Just before I leave your car,
I grow the **** up and look you in the eyes.
"I think you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
You look shocked that I said something like that.
I know that you're an extraordinary man.

1:46 am
We're still in the high school parking lot.
I've given up on going home.
I haven't stopped apologizing for every ****** thing I've ever done.
You haven't stopped kissing each of my burnt fingertips in turn.
I ask you to light me a cigarette
but I fall asleep before you can hand it to me.
You're gross and I hate you.
Joliver Dec 2015
Am I a good guy?
Am I the good guy?
Am I a main character not quite out of the first chapter?
These struggles I go through
Do people root for me?
Will I do something with this life of mine?

If a person was to suddenly know everything about me
Without getting to know me
Would that be the only unbiased opinion?
And what would they think?
Would they back peddle in disgust?
Would they want to get to know me?

Would I give my life for another?

Will I even be remembered?

Does she know how much I love her?
I tell her
But can I even translate the immensity of it
Into words?

What will I be?
Who will I be?

What kind of movie is my life?
A romcom?
A drama?
Action/adventure?
Dramedy?
Or perhaps
Since I'm asking all these questions
With no clear answer
A mystery

Is this one the last one?
Is this the one I will spend my life with?

Who will read these thoughts?
And who will appreciate them?
Finals have got me going loopy.
Johnnyqu33r Jul 2021
Seattle eyes,
Longing, searching,
Filling and flowing,
To be earthed,
With arms open
In a puddle

Phoenix lips,
Pursed, bitten,
Scabbed at the corners
Red in the center
Waving cautiously
To Seattle draught

New York fingers,
Fidgeting, picking,
Anxiously waiting
For the electricity
Of a subway stare,
"Get the **** over here".
Megan H Nov 2017
I always loved the rain.
It was dramatic.
It could give you relief on a hot day,
Or flood entire cities.

I'm listening to the rain outside now
And I remember-
How I used to compare my tears to the rain
Alone in my room
So no one could hear
It was a beautiful thing
That I blamed my sadness on
Instead of accepting depression.

I'm listening to the rain outside now
And all I can think-
Is how much I want to kiss you in it-
Like some cheesy romcom.
How nice it is to be held by someone,
Someone who loves you.
I've beaten depression for a while now,
And I have been appreciative of the rain.
But you,
You make me want to go dance in it.
Jump in some puddles.
Because I am very happy
Anais Vionet Mar 2023
I watched “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” last night - we’re going to be reading Truman Capote’s book after the break and I wanted to start thinking about it. The movie rewrites Truman Capote’s story, turning it into a romcom, completely eliminating the book's gay themes. I’d seen ‘Breakfast’ before, but now I’m a little older, and as a single woman, I can better appreciate it. I’m looking forward to studying its socio-****** themes. These are some first thoughts.

Let’s take the opening of “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” The images are iconic and some of the most widely repeated in pop-culture today (Hello, ubiquitous dorm room decor), but they’re never used in a way consistent with their function in the film. Instead of seeing a horribly depressed girl who has nothing left in her life but pure escapism, people see a beautiful woman with apparent access to luxury.

When “Breakfast” came out (in 1961) there was a sense, within the press and wider public, that even a neutered version of Holly Golightly represented a cinematic moral nadir that posed a threat to society. Whether Holly was a “moral character” was up for debate in countless reviews of the film. Today, this seems absurd.

Today, Holly is seen as an aspirational figure. With her opera gloves, her intricate updo, pearls and Givenchy little black dress, she looks like someone who belongs at Tiffany’s (of course, the casting the euro-elegant Audrey Hepburn didn’t hurt). Truman Capote wanted Marilyn Monroe as Holly - that would have been a very different movie.

Watching the film, I was struck with how contemporary Holly felt. She seems so familiar - so similar to the countless imitations we’ve seen since. People watching the movie for the first time today may be underwhelmed, but Holly seems so contemporary now, because she was so ahead of the curve back then (just over 60 years ago).

If you look at the popular romantic comedies that surrounded ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’, like “Pillow talk,’ ‘Gigi,’ and ‘Giget’ - their leading ladies were nothing like Holly. Being a heroine in those films meant you strived for marriage, you saved yourself for your one true love and, as a woman, you avoided certain subjects altogether. They imply happiness only comes from following a certain good girl ethos.

An example of what could happen to a girl, if she strayed from that path, was shown in Elia Kazan’s ‘Splendor in the Grass’ which also came out in ‘61. Its theme is the consequences of ****** repression, and it outlines a specific cinematic binary. There are good girls and bad girls. The bad girls were usually presented as sad and mentally unstable - and they paid for their sins in the end - usually by dying by some karmic punishment (car wrecks usually).

Holly sits somewhere in between good and bad, complicating the cinematic binary. Because Audrey’s elegance plays her as classy, warm and accessible, she doesn’t come across as a dangerous wild child - although she makes all of the bad girl choices - like partying, drinking and having ***.

For women who grew up in the repressive 1950s, Holly represented a new path forward. Holly lived on her own, she didn’t crave marriage above all else, she didn’t want to live in a cage, and she managed to have a good time without being victimized or doomed. Holly was noticeably different. The pill came out in May of 1960 (one of the watershed events in human history). Holly was Hollywood's first post-pill heroine, representing the ****** revolution before Betty Friedan’s ‘Feminine Mystique’.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Nadir:  the lowest or worst point of something.
Shannon Leigh Jun 2014
Silent screams, sleepless nights...
.... take both of those literally.
I scream but there is no sound- thank god
or all the neighbors would know
that living without you is my own
personal hell.
Yeah, it sounds like a bad RomCom,
but it's real... it's all real.
I scream... I SCREAM
because I can't take it anymore
And the fact that I'm drunk
plays no role...
except that I have the dumb courage
to write this down.
Ken Pepiton May 2023
as I nearly slept, I nearly
rolled over in my bed, did not,
folded my hands, slumbered on
dreamlessly imagining signals hmmms
Massive
low
notes, accepted as receptible
by my phone with no reply request
acknowledge
accusatory story…, here, I see, okeh

Each sapien sapience, from the womb,
to final dust, despite the mounds of mud,

and opera, werks, shunning sweat,
rear up any child in the way one wishes
that child to grow, see, noble king
one must see those things one wishes
were true,
then rule,
be the head of state itself, the wedom
of all the subjective class, objects
deemed worthless but by thy
grrrace, grunting there is a hell. there is, there is
as it is said Christians must believe,
having as one prays, even now,
those needs, cast off all care,
imagine all debts, all paid,
no offering to prove it
needed, only be
left to see your own way, open eyes, a bitter taste,
aftertaste of wisdom, used as in a spirtual duel,
with a passle of powerful fools, unaware
of the rules, anointed, by truth, dare
prove all things, challenge
the persuader, offer bitter herbs with salt.
Salivate conditioned reflex,
some day all your enemies
feel your own self made up form of love,
and that loving burns their evil minds,
to useful illuminosity, before
catch, grip. holf if, see
ante-cipitates, make each look up,
pledge the believers every day,
good
to go,
so in time, as stages pass,
one knows, this is what my hand
has found to do.

In your service dear reader, thus far,
in our momentary now reality,
between our shared unreal pasts,
in the bubble of we, the people of earth,
attempting to buy the world a coke,
since a certain series of orange acid
during February and March, 1970-
- Chicago. Kesey and Wolfe
- fine weather, for a few days in March

ping vid mind adapts, yes, we re
member seeing something so close
to that exact day at that exact spot,
and the weather
was way worse.

but then I he(a)rd the songs of Mao,
being mys-tried, re sung once more as if
each line was free of debt to Lao Tze
no wei, no secret sacrosanction.
dedeMao, now.
b'n ice geeye ai ai - feel the power
lust right, the drill
will to…
w8
Impulse to cut and run, see a message,
make it stick to the bumper of your cat. Cat.
Tell the world what you are
catalogical,
sorted by did you not wish you knew
rearview, how much of that
do you know,
do you know once, we remember

I did, feel a signal, listen,
think I speak mammoth, listen

in fact, we all did, at the time,
we project that as impossible to prove\
reproof of construe-ition is the way of life
instruction in right use, upgrade scales
praxis co-knowing our each selfish in a
we as a wedom, awesome
by the way life lingers
on topological math,
see,
below the actual band width
of light, white
in the middle see the bones
of the bits, those are from stars,
photons ping touch /percepticons
see-ing
opposition in the future, met today,
hey hey hey
tell me what I say,
that ain't no way to pray,
I done said to each, ever lasting
misconcieved grand spirit of a movement
when the guts of goodnessakesknowswhat
is clogged in curses,
generational debt,
the ruler mind set,
to rob the rich, I was led,
daily I watched the Adventures
of Robin Hood, while I only saw Dragnet
once each week,
ethics of each occur in all boomers, as a wedom,
the first generation born after 1945,
sorted by standardized Dewey measures
of progress. toward becoming
community minded boys and girls,
destined to bring tomorrow by conforming
to the systematized sorting, grading on math
and language arts, then history and science,
then juris prudence for civilians, duty,
- team player drills daily, 40 minutes,
- extracurricular activity choices, weighed

current deception opens green receptors
for signals
to me sent, presently as a gift,
from the queen
of the south.

We assume the idea of gifts, tributes
to k'ki'kn'no'ings, legendary models,
magi conquerors who kept the roads free
of theives and babblers
of goodness only, used as sacramental
kindness made sacred,
bidding you have a mighty fine day.

- is that the Power Farm?
- Circa 1989, HyperCard, crazy easy coding.
- But not so easy as now, finally, harmony,
- knowledge was never what divided
- truth from multitudes of witnesses,
- globally aware more mass shooting than days
- to share with former saints in 2023, so far…
All ye
Religious spirits, little impulsive crossing, muttering
thankyou to the unknown god, higher power, el ultimo.

You know, Wisdom herself, given her due, trueee baby,
too true, knowledge is power, wisdom is might,
stand up, right, perpindicular to the true balance,
prepared, made ready to use thoughts abound,
and turn you around
on a low pressure gyre, rolling up Tornado Alley,
as you imagine it all connects.

It's that hard rain, the poets called,
a seeing from the old'ns,
son, ya got a good eye,

never hesitate to wink, and think, I can see,
should I ever need to give up an eye
for my life's comfortable ends, in mind, my
days of rest --ha, these, after a spectacular

reexamination of metaphors filled with crud,
as seen in plastic sacks of potatoes,
left to sprout and rot, in the dark,
not the slightest snakey lick
of seeing with infra-red, in your head, augmental
conjoining
click… serious speed of recognition instant
cognosis,
we both know, like in a Romcom, how- to movie,
shaping mindsets to put on while in rut.

Historically Christian Nationalist Roots, Cowboy way,
circa the informational slots we slipped by, ran away,

one bought a carnival, one bought charisma seeking,
one bought a vision
through the future to right now. Eh.

How oft must one reset such knowns as nouns,
and names of action words, love, fear, hate, lie, die

Did your mindset bid you challenge

Since 2016, I have my word, I swore, with fervor,
once more eternal hostility
to any form
of tyranny {outside-will control} ever imposed
upon the mind
of mankind, wombed or un, however we be
physically, there is none of that in Christ,
believe your rules of rights use.
Examine the faith that being apes,
who could signal names of things, Adamkind,
pre functional womb model.

He could name things, he could not make babies.
Adamkind, warrior breeds from olden days,
such as fight to entertain the mob in waiting,
fans for flames, founders kenning use
of passionate inflamation to provoke
good works, in the mind of the mob,

vicarious sons of deceiving reasons, come
to call my use of faith proves nothing real.

There are made men using God's name, in vain,
eh, it never works, but it is their religious duty
to think kingly, eh,
too ghuckingoodforoneself, we, Trumpians.
We believe,
we never imagine a war we can't make.

Or a set of actual conspiratorial winds,
with names, familiar spirits, returning winds,
infested with Saharan dust, where once were lush
gardens, back when Greenland was green,
or, so I heard/

Bham harumpharump feel the answer,
pick up the combover, so cool, no care, unaware,

- exposed to the expert in this warfare,
- symbolic marvelous armour,
- for pulling down strongholds, castles,
- silicon solid state preservation cast away
- war in the spirit with historical daemons,
- meeting the neo-Manicheans, word for word…
Ai ai, sir, yessir.
We won a mindtimespace precedent mind state writ,
with the entire child of Arpanet, my second wit,
ready writer motto,
use knowledge right, criticize your story,
sift solidity through cellular security,
finest flakes of self assurance, shine
on
and on as
knowns evil or good.. only the priest can call
foul or fair, there,
excuse you, lawyer
for the defense that there is no vicarage, no live
embodiment
of the intercessor between,
truth's way through life,
and the common dominion
of a certainty,
Your MOTHER IS
BY GOD, ALL CURSES, SHE's

the reason
for your father's rage, generational curses,
daddy wounds,
mommy deprivation, post partum. chaos

love, assuage
woe, soorry, Jesus. But, as has been widely
reported the business
of religion,
by exposing truth
pays a visible wage, shiny smile,
U joint versify,

if we may,
play in the code of life, past any inkling fear
of death,
ducks
in order, will and testament cleared,
read already, ready
to oppose, I suppose, am I.
Logically a state of mind, at the moment.

I callt the efficacy of faith
to call all the outs in.

So we see them on TV, they everywhere,
other people,
OH GOD, why must there be
other people,
oh, my, we may agree,
this answers that,
reasoning, by active faith,
usualized, made common sense.
Why would any sane lover of truth god,
create a forever for enemies of lies?
Belief in spirits opposing truth,
metaphors abound, Kriegspiel on coke,
the real thing, viewers imagine,
watching all the nobles
become naked, and as ugly as any among us.
We see the chins and hairlines in horses,
yet neglect to notice, mustang
herd management, as traits
adjust to new standards,
wild life reset to order.
We realize the riddle,
is the reason, we feel foolish and know it,
U knew, not me, forethought,
morphically resonating
peace, as on a gong
gone
normative,
adjustment bureau wise
sinner's bound in a doctrine
- cut to the gist, there is no sting in death.
- and teaching children to fear death is abuse
- of right authority granted parents
- of loved children, chosen ones, olden days.
Legendary warrior mind, allowed, only if
initiation allows exposure

the daysman lack-
no, look crosswise,'
stripes, whistle, dude
-see, there, the excuse, Job ttalked back.
And Yah, he say, you know, you got that right.
Heysus hisself, look at me he say, I'll go,

become the logical conclusion,
to a story where there was a flaw,
and time threatened to run out, but
the hero, ready to become the tool
to answer a malignant liar with his religion.
Job said to Yah,
you do not know how it feels to put on
a carnal  mind, set by God in Atom's right
to be first
to say this is that…
and one thing leads to another
- you feel the power without knowing
Mysteriously, you,
suddenly seem shy, thinking
how can I say what this is,
you have no right
to say a name Adam did not
say first, we say ****, you say poo,
******* artistic instinkty ways to say, not what
goes in,
corrupts, but what comes out sure can,
that's
gnosishit trustatistical fact according
to science
scent, pre
yours it stinks to, Jesus said.
Brush y'teeth, with Pepsodent to night, be
brite
- visible
knowledge is all good see, so we say we say
good riddle. fit for a king
prone to seek an interpreter of signs and sigils.

A trained cadre of bright boys, as runners,
or senders,
senders using drum and fife, to lead,
trumpet to send, and banners,
to rally round on our side,
whose sigil is that? Do we aid or raid
the edges, scavenge strategy
from the dead.
Live to tell, as I the lone survivor,
I who slew the king at his request, please
believe me
I never steer you to wrong.

Letters flow qwerty wise,
let it happen in the fingers fit to the task,

take a little walk, listen
to a story, sit a while and wish the
enemy were here to enjoy the ease,
beyond the bliss of ignoring,
past the weight worth standing under,
to the home imagined right in time
to finish in December, 2021, one thing
done.

Search any phrase of life, and find answers
to unasked questions, regard-iding lying done
id est as when it is, totally Scriptural moral- wise
right in such a time as once

when some liars who held fast to prophesy
hired the guy who rode the wild ***,
which cognosisadictattenti sorts say
the darnedest things, strecht
stitch in time
Art of Linking Letters, Art Linkletter,
as regular a lunchtime mind flush with a chuckle
and nod at the secrets children can
claim to publicly believe, but ….

the link was to the stay-at-home mom,
not her peer's latch-key kids in allegiance prep,
who get home each day,
for a solo home run heads up on,

who did what on the news, since last night.
Wait, when did Kid Parrett buy the farm,
for more lasting fame than many
in the game, of vicarious triggerers of revenge
reaction, action ready
wha, wham
I a,am sh…za'am is a real rebbiwort, glaubtgut
Jesus
do u read Seuss, still, a quest, mark, take,
leave, ask best bet, take
chance…
look away. Beulah land,
then Beulah see, wise black nanny guide from non-
nodded off, witty, pretty sweety Mary
poppin' clap off pop
stand and deliver, let it be
sistarepistol packin' mama, whoa
Sister,
I did not think to ask, have you been this far? Before?
993 maybe, but the next seven are done. I am stopping, long enough,
to make some money some how... eee-odle eee dee hee,
I may be back again by summer.
s Dec 2015
i
think
myself
sick,
sometimes.
there are these old memories i have of us;
i swear they're more heartwarming
than any romcom film.
on wednesday you kissed my forehead and
it made me feel wanted, at least for a few seconds.
i want to know why you can cheat on her with me
but you can't leave her for me.
you told me i was enough
yet here i am scrambling to find anything
that can mask the pieces that are missing from me.
i want to be whole for you.
is she whole?
does she know you're not holy?
*******,
i want to make you whole.
****** poem but boy am i sad ovr this stupid dumb boy who broke my heart
bcg poetry Feb 2015
She used my name when she spoke to me. Like we would be in the middle of talking about the weather and she would deliberately finish a sentence about the impending rainstorm with my name and all of a sudden this innocent conversation reached a level of intimacy I had only experienced in bed with another person.
It was exhilarating, feeling your name in the mouth of someone like that.
With just the way she forms your name with her lips she could make you want to hold hands and waste away Friday nights in the most cliché romcom way. Every moment was full, every moment was exciting, and every ******* moment was completely and fatally exhausting.

-bcg (excerpt from the book I’ll never write)
unknown Jan 2016
we cant be.
we cant be
because i cant be
its just me
dont u know that every time we're together i get nervous
because....
because.
you see i can never really articulate what i feel about you
i feel like what we have isnt real
i can never be my real self when im with you
i guess its cuz i never feel enough
we will not be the greatest story
or that sappy romcom telenovela with better looking actors playing our lives
but we will be a great lesson
to those who have felt like they werent enough for that certain someone
because they've been rejected a couple of times
hold your chin up.
its hard i know
to feel like you will never be enough
im still trying myself
the climb is hard and im gonna fall a couple of times
but its okay
i let you ruin me
i let your words that stung my heart coarse through the veins of my body and ruin every part of my being
im a mess now
and whos the bigger blame?
is it you
or is it me
doesnt really matter because
we cant be.
we cant be
because i cant be
eb Nov 2014
is letting go
is moving on
is a cliche romcom plot line

means giving up
means running away
means losing us

is all those things
is leaving my everything
is accepting nothing
is what I need
Jude kyrie Jan 2016
it was so long ago
I was not much more than a boy.
I noticed her in the office
blonde classy and oh so ****.
in those days I got romantically excited
if a breeze passed by my chinos.
I asked her for a date
to go to the movies she accepted.
then she took me home
to meet her mother the dragon.
her father was dead.
she was possessive of her daughter
and hated me from first glance.
the feelings were mutual.
finally she went out for the evening.
and I was alone with her beautiful daughter.
I got what I wanted and had ***
it was not making love
I did not understand the difference back then.
I lost interest after that
the chase was more exciting than the act.
six weeks later she told me she was pregnant.
back then the only option was marraige.
I got drunk at the wedding
it felt more like a funeral to me.
we had to live with her mother
we had no money.
and her hate for me festered daily.
my new wife would not have ***
with her mother asleep in the next room.
we drifted from each other further each day.
I started going to the pub nightly.
coming home drunk and noisy.
the arguments were loud
and finally her mother threw me out.
my mother would not let me back home.
her down to earth Lancashire upbringing.
you made your own bed lad
now go and lie in it.
I saw my wife in town
we sat in the square and talked.
I thought how beautiful she was
and what a swine I was.
she wanted me back
she said she had always loved me.
I told her I would live in garden shed
before I would go back to her mother's.
we looked around for somewhere to live.
and found a tiny flat more of a rathole really.
but she fixed it up with second hand furniture.
and cans of paint.
we slept in our home for the first time.
we made love not ***
I knew the difference now.
by the time the baby came
we were friends
I think I loved her then.
it took two more years for me
to know I loved her.
we spent the last twenty five years
together and she is my friend
my lover and my companion.
we raised a family together.
and became grandparents  together.
so I did not get a romcom movie
love affair.
but somehow against all odds.
we found a kind of loving.
I think I love you
More in my mind
Than I do
In real life .

The way you smile,
I don't know why,
But I romanticize you.
In my mind you perfectly mine.

I have a story,
A perfect script for you to follow.
Like a romcom I wrote
But that's not real.

I not a realistic person.
I want perfection.
Your not perfect.
Neither am i.
You and I can be imperfect together~~
The i at the end is not capitalised purposefully. It is open to interpretation!
Jude kyrie Mar 2016
I know we are not in love
not like poetically
or Romcom movie love.
but you come over
and sleep inside me
night after night.
and the loneliness
is locked outside
in the cold night.
We are not in love.
But you are my
most precious
and beautiful
bad habit..
onlylovepoetry Dec 2023
light

<>

~yes, for you~

you never knew that you have burdened me,
informing an old fool that,
you meditating in the morning, after waking up
to a poem in your inbox from a person you’ve
never met, but whom you thank with a kindness
that wets my face, trembling with thankful shivering
from the places
left in me that
crave giving thanks

one day I will come unannounced with tapes
of a hundred romcom movies that have caused
my heart to erupt and always will, for thank god
my old curmudgeon heart is still weak enough
to cry in private
at old movies in
a youthful man~boy way,
now grizzled gray
that yet needs
nay, requires, reminders
that giving thanks
is a variant of giving
love in its very
own way

a craving that satisfies
in its own way
that giving is
gifting love
to yourself
as well
Sat Dec 30 2023
Luna Jan 2018
There you were, standing amongst a sea of people. I could swear this was a scene from a cliche romcom, where the main characters meet for the first time and just, knew.

My head kept replaying the same words. “So this is why it all had to happen”. On
and on and on, like a broken record.

And then our eyes locked; we both felt it.
How surreal and whimsical, but we felt it.
Ken Pepiton Jan 1
Continuing, in time, out of time, as mere thought,
ready for you to think, one thought
through, thoroughly
right, fixed pose, put so as
to stand up right,
here
on the mean point
of any grave object spinning,

in, or against, the wind. ROI. Invest an hour.
-------------------------- here it is 1:03 PM 1-1-02024
sunny, shady side of a local oak

Hear -- sense -- feel
agrere, ag re re feel mind heed,
agreed, as our we mind discerns
all around us noise
of us is louder than life,
we cannot hear our selves
think I am, and beside me, is you.

I think you being, made ware,
art effecting genius, magi-formed,
imagined magi-wise, presented phenomenon
of harmony and order in beautiful random reality.

How can one imagine two,
if one is such a one
as never was in ever before,
alone in all at once,
unique, solo uno,
you, in spirit
and truth

and this line,
and this line, establishing the shape
of signal sent,
line upon line, word by word filled
with mean common sense, consensus
on the spectrum of sense words make, meaning
things in spirit and in truth that allow
for colloquial we all uses you all fail to notice,
first uses of the fruit life requires, true science,
knowledge, birds and bees and ants and serpents,

first use, meaning agree, push comes to shove,
catalyst to payload, we,
become the bomb.

Oh, none privately interpret reality, we,
in fact exist to resist dying long enough
-infinite form- to
comprehend the winds of change, loosed
from fists imagined divine, scripture,
amusement themed re-liga-ment,
le-***-a-mental, right thinking,

in deed,
done so fast, we past all understanding

landing
softly
where wisdom contentment is tested.
mind
the rules
of order, noble souls,
rare incorruptible powers
that be,
as we so often proclaim,
beyond me,
as we so often contend
in pride, resisting heroically,
with the consensus, us
against all not us, alienated minds,
foreign reasons adhered
to for war, as reared,
indoors,
around the hearth,
absorbing value from your worth-ship,
expressed,
my most right mind, my satisfied mind, we use
when the authorized performance
of the formula, demands clapping
one hand of each kind, to synchronize our watches.


Divide the sky,
I look north, you look south
imagine we agreed already to look for life,
is it here?

You do know, few weigh mere words for worth,
a mortal, according to the culture adapted
from hunters served milk and honey
by pastoral people's adapted
to digest lactose.

Serious word use, with signs and wonders,
began when man assumed he was as wonderful
as life,
in truth.

Ask and you shall receive, the means to leave a message,
without a riddle.

The medium is the message, rub that in, what you are
speaks so loudly nothing else makes sense,
then
what?

Be, be on, go on, singin' in the rain, I happy again,
boppity boo, too, go on

Thinking worthy ideas rethinkable,

let me tell you prosaically, perhaps,

words with understood stick-to- bottom
like rice, re
think ai as art intuition, think
stuck
to the bottom of the ***,
some first word sense is held, still good.

El, breath, yes, alive am I, bverytrue,
I survived to look back and laugh,

thinking to myself, the augmented mind,
the unbelievable believed let go, be free
form
of human kindness, your kindness.

Most revered reading mind, read mine,
let it seem at home in your reading mind.

There. We did that.
This is after that, long after reality agreement,
this is it, Dr. Zorba taught all boomers,
birth, death, infinity…
Dr. Zorba, on Ben Casey…
I knew him first as Gunga Din, {deen}
I learned a certain lie, glorified, just if-I'd…
I gave birth to the emperically deceived mind
- trump mindghuck attention diversion attempt
- flaunted and foiled in one fell swoop.
Nike,
the feeling, wah who won, we won, raw raw raw,
Victorious Peace rush, whoosh we won
sigh
science is
fundamental heavy,
base mortal honed most point,
extremely dense, in every conceivable sense.

heavy, primordially pre next, post never,
that was the unbelievable part, never
was
we one, we was always we, at the base, fundus
mundus.
z bottom of all hell broken loose,
at points past
our peace, perhaps,
at the moment,
now is not all
of this ever after, we have in truth,

hope must answer to, in truth, eh, wisdom
makes
peace
possible, in you
in me, on time in time, we do

what the truth would do if it were you
in this wedom of words we all comprehend,
---------------
This old Vietnam veteran of the class still alive in 2023.
The entertainment deme aimed at -- action
with grey hair heros.
Long haired, bearded old dude, once
reported as having been a bearded youth,

Now, I am a rumpled specimen
of those media reflections,
my mind resighing,
interruptions are as sure
to come, as offences, pinched
nerve Patriotismismismismism sheisschismmmmm
pop.
------------------
I was walking on my reward, my own treetop deck,
thinking something I was doing was not right,
like low down right,
lowest known, right, which hand do you throw with.
Right, lefties, to this very day, exist,
to put a twist on things,

politics is polimental agreement formation,
monstor's are made this way, evil knowers, thinking
nothing ever after is real, any way,

we words to the wise, we say nay, laugh, knowing
science wins, by faith in wisdom's promise,

still
small
voice,
this is the way, first peaceable,
peace be with you, we say, amen,
you, too.

Like romcom love declarations, difficult
to make meaningful after alls been seen done.

Neurons that mirror amused mind states,
we contain, as wet ware, we feel emotions aimed
at us, at any age,
Fantasia at age two, for me. '
Formed the informed me.
And you,
now that I think about the qwerty guy trained
ambidextrously, that is me, I can type, on a keyboard.

And I know monkeys cannot, but many have imagined,
Shakespeare was Bacon, and Bacon, St. Germain,
and Julian Huxley's tech level made me think that,
link thinking to Aldous, 1957 M.I.T.
What a piece of work man is.

Gaseous we, the concept, passes as common knowledge.

I read as much, who cares, I ask, I wish to know, I say,
we must needs agree,
or our intent to implement the bomb

worked. This is 2024. I did not die in 2023, I think I am a thought
thoroughly satisfied with the seed I have sown and grown
into another hap filled future for however long it seems...
This is ever after all.
Doctors Orders: Take two of these and text me in morning...

be thankful (after all something is better than nothing, right?)

better yet
satiate and salivate (side effects of the drug, but at least it shows you care)

fill my monthly prescription... (my god, the synthetic fantasies she provides)

the tantalizing **** tease of what could have been
with
promises of a RomCom script I'll never read

replicate dosage until hackneyed (then be sure to beg for more)

your body on a fishhook
your heart in a bear trap
always taken in conjunction with
a "healthy" dose
of

your true intentions
pixelated in darkness


cdh
del Feb 2018
fluorescent light illuminates
makeup brushes and foundation
concealer and contour
she sits in front of the mirror,
diligently applying
a youtube tutorial playing in the background
her small hands shake
her cheeks have not yet lost their baby fat
she hates her chubbiness
in her youth, she envies the skinny
the pretty, the ones with the cool moms
who let them do whatever they want
thin faces and thick layers of wavy hair
arched eyebrows and immaculate eyeliner
she wants to be like an instagram model
with a hundred-watt smile and tan skin
she wants to be a perfect person
she pats on the blush
she eats less
she becomes a shadow of a person
she loses it all to be fake
isn't that a little too much
for a girl to handle?
not yet an adult
almost a teenager
they grow up too fast
to reach what they think is perfection
to attain the life they see in movies
in snapchat stories and romcom tv shows
"beauty is pain" but
they take it too far.
Neville Johnson May 2020
I recently directed my first romcom
Starred new talent who met on the set
There was a spark between them
The grips and gaffers could see
They didn't need much direction
When it came to the love scenes
They wanted more retakes
They insisted on rehearsing outside of my presence
They told me it was method acting
Then they stopped acting altogether
It became the truth
The show was a hit
Oh well, I’m onto the next production
They got married and had a kid
something light in these troubled times
Closed my eyes and let the dead come But then you gave your hand and brought light

Forgot that love exists but then I saw your eyes A man in front of me with so much wise

Was it love or was it my last hope?

Almost ended up being Sylvia path but then I saw your face and coped up

Was it love or was it my last chance?

Junior and senior combination? Guardian and learner session

Baby, baby i cried and then saw him in my arms Was it love or was it just comfort?

I didn't know how to breathe in my own breath I saw it coming and my body left on his lap Thy not act like a catharsis but then later became a prisoner of cupid

Was it love or was it an addiction?

Gothic novels all over thy cupboard

While romcom all round my brain Beauty had to end someday

Here we come with another piled up garbage

Was it love or was it just a dream?

It had to rain after a beautiful warm summer Looked outside the window and murmured Seasons had to change, from 12pm to 12am Sylvia Plath once again?

Call the cardiologist? Call the psychiatrist? Or call the "visitor"?

~Ankita Sarkar

— The End —