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Nathaniel morgan Dec 2014
Adolf ******
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"******" redirects here. For other uses, see ****** (disambiguation).
Adolf ******

Adolf ****** in 1937
Führer of Germany
In office
2 August 1934 – 30 April 1945
Deputy
Rudolf Hess (1933–41)
Position vacant
Preceded by Paul von Hindenburg
(as President)
Succeeded by Karl Dönitz
(as President)
***** Chancellor of Germany
In office
30 January 1933 – 30 April 1945
President Paul von Hindenburg (until 1934)
Deputy
Franz von Papen (1933–34)
Position vacant
Preceded by Kurt von Schleicher
Succeeded by Joseph Goebbels
Leader of the **** Party
In office
29 June 1921 – 30 April 1945
Deputy Rudolf Hess
Preceded by Anton Drexler
Succeeded by Martin Bormann
Personal details
Born 20 April 1889
Braunau am Inn, Austria-Hungary
Died 30 April 1945 (aged 56)
Berlin, Germany
Nationality
Austrian citizen until 7 April 1925[1]
Citizen of Brunswick after 25 February 1932
Citizen of the German ***** after 1934
Political party National Socialist German Workers' Party (1921–45)
Other political
affiliations German Workers' Party (1920–21)
Spouse(s) Eva Braun
(29–30 April 1945)
Parents
Alois ****** (father)
Klara Pölzl (mother)
Occupation Politician
Religion See: Religious views of Adolf ******
Signature
Military service
Allegiance German Empire
Service/branch Bavarian Army
Years of service 1914–20
Rank
Gefreiter
Verbindungsmann
Unit
16th Bavarian Reserve Regiment
Reichswehr intelligence
Battles/wars World War I
Awards
Iron Cross First Class
Iron Cross Second Class
Wound Badge
Adolf ****** (German: [ˈadɔlf ˈhɪtlɐ]; 20 April 1889 – 30 April 1945) was an Austrian-born German politician and the leader of the **** Party (German: Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei (NSDAP); National Socialist German Workers Party). He was chancellor of Germany from 1933 to 1945 and dictator of **** Germany (as Führer und Reichskanzler) from 1934 to 1945. ****** was at the centre of **** Germany, World War II in Europe, and the Holocaust.

****** was a decorated veteran of World War I. He joined the German Workers' Party (precursor of the NSDAP) in 1919, and became leader of the NSDAP in 1921. In 1923, he attempted a coup in Munich to seize power. The failed coup resulted in ******'s imprisonment, during which time he wrote his memoir, Mein Kampf (My Struggle). After his release in 1924, ****** gained popular support by attacking the Treaty of Versailles and promoting Pan-Germanism, antisemitism, and anti-communism with charismatic oratory and **** propaganda. ****** frequently denounced international capitalism and communism as being part of a Jewish conspiracy.

******'s **** Party became the largest elected party in the German Reichstag, leading to his appointment as chancellor in 1933. Following fresh elections won by his coalition, the Reichstag passed the Enabling Act, which began the process of transforming the Weimar Republic into the Third *****, a single-party dictatorship based on the totalitarian and autocratic ideology of National Socialism. ****** aimed to eliminate Jews from Germany and establish a New Order to counter what he saw as the injustice of the post-World War I international order dominated by Britain and France. His first six years in power resulted in rapid economic recovery from the Great Depression, the denunciation of restrictions imposed on Germany after World War I, and the annexation of territories that were home to millions of ethnic Germans, actions which gave him significant popular support.

****** actively sought Lebensraum ("living space") for the German people. His aggressive foreign policy is considered to be the primary cause of the outbreak of World War II in Europe. He directed large-scale rearmament and on 1 September 1939 invaded Poland, resulting in British and French declarations of war on Germany. In June 1941, ****** ordered an invasion of the Soviet Union. By the end of 1941 German forces and their European allies occupied most of Europe and North Africa. Failure to defeat the Soviets and the entry of the United States into the war forced Germany onto the defensive and it suffered a series of escalating defeats. In the final days of the war, during the Battle of Berlin in 1945, ****** married his long-time lover, Eva Braun. On 30 April 1945, less than two days later, the two committed suicide to avoid capture by the Red Army, and their corpses were burned. Under ******'s leadership and racially motivated ideology, the regime was responsible for the genocide of at least 5.5 million Jews, and millions of other victims whom he and his followers deemed racially inferior.

Contents
Early years
Ancestry
Childhood and education
Early adulthood in Vienna and Munich
World War I
Entry into politics
Beer Hall Putsch
Rebuilding the NSDAP
Rise to power
Brüning administration
Appointment as chancellor
Reichstag fire and March elections
Day of Potsdam and the Enabling Act
Removal of remaining limits
Third *****
Economy and culture
Rearmament and new alliances
World War II
Early diplomatic successes
Alliance with Japan
Austria and Czechoslovakia
Start of World War II
Path to defeat
Defeat and death
The Holocaust
Leadership style
Legacy
Religious views
Health
Family
****** in media
See also
Footnotes
References
Citations
Sources
External links
sophie Jan 2021
11.
sores and aches decorate her body like
christmas lights and tinsel and mistletoe

a red light on her shoulder
green lighting up her stomach
and rudolf has no red nose
but red eyes

and rudolf hates himself
a lot

she is rudolf
the red eyed
reindeer

she cries snowflakes
and blankets the land
with pillars of ice and snow
made of tears

merry christmas
written christmas  2018
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
before i begin, a pre-scriptum...
         in my hand, this minute?
                   what a rare delight...
the Beauties of Sterne:
                                with some account of his life...
printed for J. Walker,
published by J. Walker, Paternoster Row &
   J. Harris, St. Paul's Church Yard...
London... 1811!
    and being a big "fan boy" of the fiction
that a bibliophile might have an adventure:
Roman Polanski's the Ninth Gate...
   now, for a book that's... 208 years old?!
it's not in bad shape... sure...
the hardcover is missing by a half...
but all the text is intact...
              obviously colouring of the pages...
but hey... i'm not a museum...
             the book is still fiddled with...
ha ha, the opening page with a picture
reads as follows:
   there are worse occupations in this world,
than feeling a woman's pulse...
perhaps a quote about... insensibility?
   it reads as follows:
       it is the fate of mankind, too often,
to insensible of what they may enjoy at
the easiest rate (sermon XLII)...
   besides, lucky for me youtube continues
to glitch from time to time...
    now looking more in line with channels
than individual artists...
   notably? Harakiri Diat (channel)...
eh... :wumpscut, the soft machine,
demdike stare, vomito *****, feindflug
weren't enough...
          turns out... there's more...
beyond penta, matutero and GloOMy
PhAntOM... well, please, allow me:
   filmmaker - the love market,
              la ***** bianca - demian...
hell... if you want to venture into the past?
i know one band that freaked out
my ex-girlfriend... gong - flying teapot...
or that song by greenskeepers, lotion...
               i thought i'd never see someone
become freaked out about music...
curios and also highly curious, yes...
but freaked out?
                 primitive knot - puritan...
demolition group - you better...
          1986 Yugoslav minimal electro...
Bruce Roach - Gut...
              and as it turns out...
    i look from this corner of the internet and find
absolutely no need to delve into
the dark web... install Tor...
           if you really want to...
  you'll find all you need... but you need
to sift through a bibliography of a book prior
to... it's all here... this sort of material
has an inbuilt filter... it filters out
             mainstream consumers of content...
i should know...
    3 websites that banned me,
1 suspended me...
                   i crossed the threshold...
    normie poetic: outcast *****...
           yet i still sometimes happened to chance
upon a will...
           lao che - soundtrack (the whole album
is decent) -
              


.i once heard it was based upon the following maxims: bogatemu wszystko wolno (the rich are allowed anything), siła razy gwałt (force multiplied by ****)... well... over the years, that much was true... but then i conjured a reply: nie wszystko wolno bogatemu (not everything is given an allowance to be expressed by the rich) and wola odiąć gwałt (will, having substracted ****): otherwise it's still wola razy gwałt (will, multiplied by ****).

****, i only just "woke" up from
this game,
you know that game...
oh i'm pretty sure you know it...
it's called
   pass the jew along...
   rudolf höss
      cited, among the list:
ibrahim ibn yaqub,
         radhanites (there's a surd
H in there, rad-'anites)
    casimir III...
esp. the latter...
           so.. give the current h'americans,
we're still playing the globalist
nomad game of: juggling the jews,
yes, no, maybe?
so my mother tended to
two old jewish women,
because, just "because"
their sons were active in
the "economics" of passing law
and techno-literacy?
oh... right... i "see"...
                            i... "see"...
in defence, of the "neglected" ones...
makes perfect sense,
de facto 51,
                  area 51 was always
a propaganda convert term
for Israel, rather than some area
bound to Nevada, wansn't it?
wasn't it?
                      ask me again
one year from now,
did we live peacefully among the jews?
they'll tell you the joke...
didn't the jews shoot,
with riffles,
   with bent barrels / sights
aiming at themselves rather
than the nazis?
       no, no soap jokes when
it comes to yews...
the yids...
      everyone in poland just
wondered: why so pacified?
        so blatant in walking into
an inferno?
                      you know...
it took Poland longer to surrender,
while being attacked by both
the Germans and the Russians,
than it took for the Fwench
to be attacked by the sole effort
of the Germans?
    funny... that...
                               i truly admire
some nazis, for their ingenuity...
notably? erwin rommel...
   lothar von arnauld de la periè(re)...
(subtle, i give you that one,
per-y'eh...
                 'old 'ack 'old 'ck
   h-b-h-b,
                                    rein in...
otherwise perié... ergo without
                                           the -re)...
michael wittmann...
and i'm a ******...
      **** me...
they didn't bomb paris,
might as well state:
they also didn't bomb
  marienburg or most of danzig...
Warsaw? taken down,
levelled, brick by brick,
        until no brick stood on brick...
              what?!
i thought the western capitalist-ico
communist insurgents
wanted target practice?
          i thought these people
wanted nazis, no?
          i'll admit... tiki torches?
you must have never looked
at european football hooligans...
tiki torches?!
you having a bbq?
            never heard of flares?        
- mind you...
you know what's worse beside
beind ridiculed?
having your intelligence
insulted...
i.e. do i look like someone
who managed to ****
your mother with a *******
harmonica,
or, am i, bound to the responsibility,
of your parents playing
the irresponsibility card,
attempting to convey a child
into existence aged circa 50
circa 45,
and what comes out is
an autistic cucumber?!
    **** me...
try giving ****** lessons
to circa 50 year olds;
and now the paradox...
   "i'm" the "schizophrenic"...
cool cool, coolio...
     i'll just hide in that "harem's"
worth of a brothel with
the prostitutes who tell
me they get s.t.d. checks on
a regular basis, o.k.?
_____

what am i to add to this?
not much, is there...
was the great gatsby by f. scott fitzgerald
ever great?!
  how satisfying it is to be unable
to please the crowd....
words, after all, are not bread...
how one wishes
for an anathema rather than
a martyr's embrace...
            one begins to imagine...
then one loses interest...
then...
                    peering through
the eye of a needle
watching a camel walk through...
one spots something outside
the realm of the metaphorical miracle...
do i have to?
      what if i remain to this side
of the eye of the needle?
what riches do i have that i cling to...
books & music...
does that make me rich?
what are the sort of riches where either
people plunder readily (music),
or do not engage with to begin
with?
who are ready to read...
i can claim to be a book thief...
i stole two books from my high school
library... the quran and the scarlet &
the black by stendhal...
            "stole"... i extended their
licance of being borrowed...
how am i rich: if my riches are the riches
no one would want to steal?!
i am rich... though...
               but i am rich in a both
materialistic / non-materialistic paradox
frame...
                what i own no one wants to
steal! why steal a first cheap edition
of a dickens' novel if you're not going
to read it!
              
       **** **** ****.... if they were such
philistines... when blitzing London,
why did st. paul's remain intact?
   "coinicidence"? i don't think so...
and why did they steal all those
art-works? again, "coincidence"?

                    they were people:
i find it uncomfortable to suit them up
in transcendence,
to be: epitome evil...
  to be the übermensch...
                   they loved art as much
as they loved being the antithesis
of the golden horde: gucci, dolce & gabbana
zz top: well dressed men...

     nazis loved art and fashion,
by far the best dressed army in the world
and history...

   ol' herman and otto came back
from the eastern front to a scared wife and mother...
people! they weren't mythical creatures...
the nazis can hardly become
chimeras as they become in the minds
of pseudo-communists of the western lands...

they are hardly the epitome of evil,
i know the 21st century narrative
deems them: "the perfect example"...
come on... they're not evil embodied
with not subsequent examples to be given
to... historical capitalism of evil:
there's always someone waiting,
some group of people to stage
a competition libra... and they will...
overcome the nazis...
it's only a question of ingenuity /
imagination...
           gas chambers was only industrial...
it will become personal in the years to come...
methodologically trained cultured
barbarians woken from a slumber...

the nazis were not: philistines...
   in no defence: didn't they speed up the creation
of the state of israel?
   didn't they? **** uncle:
   lavrentiy pavlovich Beria is going to state
the matters differently?
like hell he is...

        my family also suffered in that war...
sure, not in a concentration camp:
but on the front...
             there's even a joke that my
grandfather remembers:
the jews were shooting with bent nozzles
of riffles...
   as he also remembers two ss-men
who he asked for sweets,
and they would give them to him,
he'd as them: herr! bitte bon-bon!
   sweets so sweet that he would have
to rinse his hands under water
to unglue them from the sickly in-between...
how all the insurgent soviet soldiers
were teenagers and preferred to
sleep in pigstys and among the goats
in the hay...

how did the nazis become mythological
i will never understand,
at uni i had a **** history teacher,
canadian, she really liked my essay
on napoleon... how he was a great
strategist...
akin to?  

   erwin rommel wasn't a ****...
erwin rommel was, erwin rommel...
a great strategist...
        am i supposed to thrive in this
current year of polarized *******?
it's the current topic,
i can't escape it,
  sure, i'd love to have a Wordsworth
moment, lurking in me,
or an anna akhmatova breakthough...
instead?! i'm given this sort of *******
on a platter,
  and all that's missing are the wedges
of lemon and the eager oysters to
be gulped down... lucky me!

no, i don't like how the nazis are misrepresented
as both the übermenschen:
these mythological epitomes of evil
(no greater evil is to come? really?!)
and at the same time
as philistines: they stole art,
they ensured that critically cultural
documents of architecture were left
undisturbed... st. paul's cathedral...

         it's not like some otto or moritz
didn't come back home to a wife
and children... no...
he came back to the shadow cult
of the ******* hanging over him...

you know what the most haunting experience
i have ever experienced was?
Ypres... world war I site...
visiting a german cemetary...
compared to the allies cemetary?
**** me, what a meagre sight!
           the allies were burried with marked
graves, each man to his own cross...
the german burial ground?!
  mass graves....
eh: one marker: 200 bodies in one pit...
                 and here's the 21st century with
games about shooting: zee nat'zees...

   just visit the world war I cemetaries...
the ally cemetaries? square miles...
each man with his white cross...
german cemetaries? as mass graves go...
one marker per 200+ troops...
so... not that much space required...
less: bombast!
               pride & prejudice /
   pomp & circumstance...
   which the english speaking world is...
of the latter convenience to suit the narrative.

to reiterate...
   as a ******... the whole german fetish
isn't my kind of gig...
what with my grandmother being born
on the front... given opiates at an early
age so she would not cry and allow
the soldiers to locate her and my gread-grandparents...
but...
   they were the best dressed army in
the history of warfare...
they were not philistines and they certainly
weren't the mongolian golden horde...
i.e. they stole art, notably jewish artwork...
and if a luftwaffe squadron were to drop
a bomb on st. paul's? they'd probably
be shot...
  after all... Posen wasn't destroyed,
Breslau wasn't destroyed...
        Danzig wasn't destroyed...
Cracow wasn't destroyed...
             o.k., half of Warsaw was,
but we know why that happened
(or at least i do... idealist students who
thought they could fight the enemy
with slingshots and air-pistols)...
why? the Germans were simply thinking:
oh... we'll just be moving back...
i once explained it to myself...
they weren't exactly some mythological
grand evil template...
so i started thinking about them as:
Hans von Seeckt...
  or Otto Hertz...
              or some other german random
soldier...
      well... you should travel to Ypres,
Belgium... and visit a German cemetary
from war world I... then visit
the allies graveyard...
       each soldier, individually buried...
with his pwetty pwetty weißkreuz -
mostly named...
                 now visit a german cemetary...
mass.... graves...
                they just dumped them,
heaped them...
                        to me they were people...
you can't exactly reason with a mythological
evil - an archeological evil,
   an archetypical evil...
          for an archetypical evil?
try the nuclear family...
                         ******... that sort of thing...
child abuse... too many actors
were involved in this story,
too many mistakes, too many naive blunders...
evil on this scale is easily diluted...
which is why it's taught as history,
in schools...
   no one will teach children about...
oh... say... the Wiener Blut scenario...
   Josef Fritzl...
                    i'm pretty sure this will not be
taught in a history class...
                or... the H. H. Holmes Hotel story...
but it might become a jack the ripper
tourist-fetish... might it not? well, it already is.
Crysta Gingras May 2016
The lights all up around me
They dance and flicker
Swirling up and down each tree
As the music gets quicker
What a colorful holiday
Something new around each bend
We climb into Santa’s sleigh
And begin to ascend
The clouds fall below us
As we are launched into the sky
The turns we took were brusque
But the heavens never felt so nigh…
...
...
I cover you with a quilt
For the sleigh keeps climbing higher
Towards your hometown we tilt
I wonder, what will transpire?
There’s something big in the back
Is it full of coal?
Perhaps there’s something else in that sack
A doll, a plane, a little toy troll?
Perhaps we will find out
Your hometown draws near
Rudolf raises his red snout
Followed by the rest of the reindeer…
...
...
They shift their gaze
Towards a landing strip
People down there in a craze
We must look like a spaceship
They angle their flight
Right down the middle
It is quite the sight
And the thrill makes us giggle
What’s going on down below?
I ask Santa sitting up front
“I don’t really know”
He says as a reindeer grunts
“They must be waiting for you
Down there, to see what took place
For you came back with her,
That’s not exactly commonplace”
I look back at you, and you meet my gaze
Together we’ll get through
Of that I have no doubt
The sleigh is landing now
There is no backing out…
...
...
Santa pulls up on the reins
On the landing strip the sleigh glides
Only stepping out remains
As we do, the crowd divides
There in the middle
Surrounded by curious people
Stands a man with thumbs he twiddles
He looks more nervous than you or I
I grab your hand and look back again
This is it, we feel suddenly shy
Now’s not the time, so confidence we feign
We look forward and meet his eye
He looks at us and gives a sigh
“Dad?” you say
You look back at me, with display
Introductions are made
Feelings are conveyed
We no longer stand in a masquerade
Everything is out
The closet has swung open
We have nothing left to hide
You squeeze my hand
I coincide
As we look to your dad and wait


He looks at you with love
Then he looks at me squarely
Before he can say a word
Santa breaks in and shouts “let’s all be merry!”
The crowd breaks into laughter
As Santa sates the air with a magic
And joy fills everyone’s thoughts
Your father looks at us again
This time, with a smile, he simply nods
Story written over a few days to my girl, yeah I'm that far behind in posting what I write O.O
mark jarrad Sep 2010
Christmas is upon us !
Another year is gone
It seems like only yesterday
We celebrated the last one
Adverts on the t.v
Toys upon the shelves
Children are told stories
Of santa and his elves
Food is on the table
Theres turkey , christmas pud
Children on their best behaviour
Trying to be good
Carol singers outside , singing in the street
In woollen hats and scarves they dress
With wellies on their feet !
A snowman stands a guard outside
With a carrot for a nose
Presents under christmas trees
Tied with pretty bows
Jingle bells are ringing
As rudolf pulls the sleigh
The saviour lord jesus
Was born upon this day
Christmas is a time for peace
To last the whole year through
May santa bring his greatest gift
Of christmas joy to you !
Ryan O'Leary Nov 2019
(The Black Nosed Reindeer)

Santa:

What the **** are you doing here
I must have a red nose reindeer.

Adolf:

I don't know, the job centre sent me
and told me to put glitter on my antlers.

Santa:

Did you read the job description ?

Adolf:

I did, but the lady said that it was an
equal opportunities position.

Santa:

Did they give you a card?

Adolf:

Yes, here it is, you me and the bear.

Santa:

I don't believe this.

Adolf:

Well ! am I hired or not?

Santa:

I must ring the job centre.
Hello, Santa Claus here.
Where is Rudolf this year Miss?

Job Centre:

Hello Santa, he can't make it this year.

Santa:

But why not?

Job Centre:

We are not permitted to discuss our'
clients affairs Mr Claus.

Santa;

But I must speak with him !

Job Centre:

The best I can do is to give you
the AA help line.

Santa:

Hello, I am looking for Rudolf.

AA.

Is this some sort of Joke?

Santa:

No, this is Santa Claus here.

AA.

This is Alcoholics Anonymous and we do not
give out information about our members. All I
can say is, everyone around the table here has
a red nose and looks like Rudolf.

Merry Christmas.
I wanna be the hero, I want to be the good little boy, but all this life has me down
and I can’t live in this little town, where everybody frowns, and people walk around with crowns
Looking down because you act a little different and weep yourself to sleep.
It may not be just this town the destroys little boys dreams,
But I’m not going to stick around to watch my home split apart at the seams

My first memory I told my momma that I was the ugly duckling from her story,
she whispered “goodnight son”, and rolled her head back chuckling
She must have known for a long time that it was truth
But she insisted on tucking me in so I showed her my pearly white tooth
Because I thought she made the world all better
But when she kissed my head she told me a lie, and It was all to stop the bed wetter.
And it worked for that moment of time
I was too young to understand that other people wouldn’t be so kind

And when my daddy read me stories the next night it was no different
I told him that I was the black sheep that cried wolf, but he was indifferent
He just told me his stories even louder to stop my interruptions
From breaking the perfect bubble they wrapped me up in complexions.
My father told me about the three little piggies and how I was the strongest of them all
Because the big bad wolf could never blow down my bedroom wall
But what he didn’t tell me that all along he was the wolf in disguise
He was eaten himself, and I was next to be gobbled up; a pig who won first prize

However, I never got the chance to go weeeee weeee weee all the way home
Like every six-year-old kid dreamed of on their first day gone.
Within ten minutes of being in reality, I was told that Santa wasn’t real,
That stories were just fiction, and broken hearts won’t actually heal
I ran home that day fertilizing the grass below
It felt dead inside the kick to my reality was low
The grass I ran home on had been bone dry for six years
But I never really knew what to name crying since Elmo never really showed any tears

I wanna be the hero, I want to be the good little boy, but all this life has me down
and I can’t live in this little town, where everybody frowns, and people walk around with crowns
Looking down because you act a little different and weep yourself to sleep.
It may not be just this town the destroys little boys dreams,
But I’m not going to stick around to watch my home split apart at the seams

From the crib to the high chair, from the training wheels to the big boy seat, I was off
Off to meet talking trains, dancing zoo animals, and bright smiling people lit like Rudolf
I wanted laser guns shooting at me, ninja stars whizzing past my face
And everyday boys like me saving the day from bad guys that I'd have to chase
But nowadays criminals are for the news crews, and fights were for action scenes,
Adventures and joys were six planets away in Pluto’s playful puppy dreams
But I distinguished reality as fake because your fake was my reality
That I so desperately tried to hold onto since it was more lively than gravity

I was told the easter bunny had died and my cat didn’t go to the vet to rest;
the Superheroes were just drawings on a piece of paper destroying the forest
Not fighting the joker nor galactic alien ships; not even raising a finger to save a cat,
But I watched thousands of people die on my kindergarten screen in a concrete grave.
Superman never showed up to stop either of the hijacked planes,
And Mrs. Burger, the only teacher to ever give me a red light, cried for at least an hour in pain.
Before this, I had no idea what death was, but it had become blatantly clear to see
That whatever it was, where ever it took people, I swore up and down It would never take me

Because I wanna be the hero, I want to be the good little boy, but all this life has me down
and I can’t live in this little town, where everybody frowns, and people walk around with crowns
Looking down because you act a little different and weep yourself to sleep.
It may not be just this town the destroys little boys dreams,
But I’m not going to stick around to watch my home split apart at the seams
Another poem I wrote in my high school journal that I have been dying to share
Christian Dec 2010
to my tattered brothers and sisters I sing this little tune for you:

Pick up a bottle
Throw away your lives
Pitch a tent under an overpass in San Francisco.
Collect tin cans that never rust
and pick for food in garbage cans.
Talk too loud cause your used to to hum and the buzz of the engines that never quite seem to turn off.
Your white noise, your little humming butterfly.

I see hipster talking cool cat bearing fake glass wearing tight jean preaching ***** walking down old man made a big buck avenue.
Maybe I'm just jealous that my ***** die from boxer briefs n levi skinny fits with out benjamin striding along my side.

Old punk rockers tye dye bandanna wearing sweet talking hard headed mother ******* that never quite seem to die.
Keep getting laid off and job offers but no parachute, no just in cases only no replies. Name your dog's royalty, let them splash through mud, don't you care if your old woman can't dare to see the beauty in your queen's ***** getting all wet from playing with new friends. "Keep living while your young"

The smarts can't hold a job with business's that no one really cares. You live your suburban dream with Rudolf leading santa's slay with light's too bright for all your neighbors to stare. Email lists, outlook express, phones phones phones out for a contact you may never see again. Where'd the comradmanship go when working wasn't work it was fun as well.

To young ones rolling half empty water bottles down stairs, covering curious eyes with baseball caps, sneaking candy cookies cause you don't care about sugar high's or blood. Listen to your music "its good for the soul" but don't wear nice yuppie clothes to impress upon those older queers. Ice cream scoops to big to bear, make no sense to those that hear baffled cries of young mans rise, don't be afraid to be afraid. Young ***** hurt, I know.

City streets, and landfill pies, composting spoons made of tater starch, eating new foods crying old cries. Food too cold, too hot, too dry. Empanada's good, pork liver bad. These kids is cool, making something of themselves, talk to no one, no need just feel the vibe.

White walls dappled with texture, more appeasing for the eyes. A house with too many switches yet no lights, not enough lamps for more shadows and less tries. Floors don't need no wood laid out, concrete works, it's cheaper too. The house stays warm when your burning money for fire rather than cheap rides.

This is what they saw, just a new age, a new time. This is what I see, and why I sing, and why I tell you all of a decade which may never sleep enough to watch the old sun fall. Those dreams may be too real after all.
Carolin Dec 2014
Christmas lights dangling
from the roof to the floor.
Mistletoe hung up on the door.
Christmas is coming get up
and decorate your lane.
Don't leave it blank and
plain. Rudolf's nose is
pomegranate red. Must
be from the cold the people
said. Hang the socks up
stuff them with candy
and be a little handy.
Gingerbread cookies
aren't baked yet. Should
we worry or just get in
a hurry. Christmas is
coming. Christmas is
coming. Oh Karl would
you get the door i think
i can hear Christmas
Carols
Oh dear the cookies aren't baked yet
And I’m looking bad too

Stop worrying about that honey
I’m always here for you


Oh don’t forget to set the mistletoe
On our old oak door

Right so please stop worrying
I’ve place the socks too


Come on now, come on now
We got to go
There’s tons of discounts
For us on that store

Can’t we just stay, just stay
Inside of our house
I’m freezing cold now
So timeout of this winter wonderland


So now it’s 12MN
People outside are calling “Yoo-Hoo”!
Come out now
‘Cause it’s quite lovely
To stroll around with you

Let me drink this med
Then I’ll come with you
Though I’m kinda sick
Let us enjoy the evening view


Settle down with me and help
me out with this eggnog. We can
gather around the tree instead of
strolling out endlessly and free
while the snow falls on our blood
red cheeks. Dinner is ready on the
stove. Tell me if it’s well cooked
or a bit raw. The Holidays make
the adrenaline kick in. That explains
why we’re over stressing on everything
since the day had begun. Now settle
down *** and sip your eggnog with
me while I turn on the lights on our
lovely Christmas
tree** ~
K Chua in italics
Carolin in bold
Hey HP people
It's our 2nd collaboration together :)
He's a talented writer ...
From all parts of world
Happy holidays
From Carolin and K Chua
All the best to you!

Check out K Chua's link below
http://hellopoetry.com/KC31/
preservationman Dec 2015
Eggnog for a festive season
A special holiday celebration being the reason
Yet my head is spinning all over the place
I feel like I am in a race
That eggnog my mind will never erase
Mother always said don’t waste
But some how the alcohol was added
I am sure this eggnog I will never ever forget
Later on I might have some regret
Can someone point me in the direction of the North Pole?
Right now Santa is stuck in some manhole
Well he is actually smashed
He can’t even tell the reindeers to dash
I don’t believe this I see Rudolf and the reindeer team
But why are they floating down a stream?
Well this slogan fits, “Santa with no sleigh tonight, how will you fly into the night?”
It has now become a plight
Cheers everyone and good night.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
ask me: i'm a sucker for pop music and medieval hymns, whether folk or of a gratitude toward a community akin to Taizé... while society suffocates me with jester's pounces to satiate a coming bride.. i'm more inclined to satiated myself with monkish escapades... i am aware of the "existential" absolute negotiation: to preserve the upright specimen... i'm pretty sure the chinese, the african and the indian sub-continent have it covered, i'm happy to be part of the dodo project... clearly i don't want to be part of it... i should have been allowed to be a monk, with each day passing i'm hardly thinking of the petty conquests of a bedroom with a... come on... even i thought this brief relationship could resemble a brothel's "one hour spare"... Tamara... spanish girl, worked in a barber shop... lived with three homosexual hunks... i tried having a hard-on, even when she told me to have a bath with her and talk... i couldn't get it up, i was put off when she wanted a kleenex moment, ***, incubated, under the bedsheets... in a brothel you **** under dimmed lights but not in a womb of cotton! you shower first, sometimes even washing each other, there's this whole unwritten ritual! she puts on a ****** while she ***** you off... come on... aaesthetic, cordiality... prostitutes have been the most respectful women i've ever ******, it's like joining an army of marching ******... in a pink floyd revision of marching hammers... imagine... the neo-communist flag: ***** replaces the hammer... the sickle? scissors, i guess, borrowing from scissor sisters? ***** & scissors? great! we have ourselves the new soviet, ahem, soviet union... and a flag to boot! oh Tamara Tamara... sure, no hard-on... drunk one-night stand cameo... i tried and tried, but i kept suffocating under the bed-sheets cocoon ***... she broke with me after 3 days because the hard-on wasn't coming... god, i too wish i could be the perfect ***** with a heart, kidneys, liver stomach and brain to match: ON / OFF... isn't a male ******* akin to a slobbering oyster of a woman's *****? **** impressions... kama sutra speaks about elephant phallus and a rabbit's ****** (depth)... i can't just switch it on, & off... it's not a ******* ****-pumping-piston worthy of ******* web-cam incel ******* worth of video, is it?! never mind... i was having coffee in the morning between her inquiring gay-minders (she suddenly left of Ibiza to find love)... i was saved by a presence of a robin... and you know what a fictional Napoleon would have said: a robin is worth twice the sparrow's worth... timid foot, tender foot... shy organge loiter... who... for some strange reason, migrastes to eastern europe for winter, then migrates to england during the summer... i guess: continental europe provides the sort of winters that are summers, while england provides the sort of summers that are winters... the mythology of Poland... storks and bisons... on a whiff... teenage gamer... but the storyline still grips me: soul reaver:
   protagonist: Raziel...
the brothers:
              Melchiah, Zephon, Rahab and Dumah...
games what worked as book-alt.,
                  i'm almost itching to add diacritical
marks to those names to "x-ray" into syllables
and hyphens...
    mind you, what has remained of the old
anglo-ßaß?
        names in chemistry... already, mentioned,
somewhere...
  sure... gaming is fun these days,
given the in-game cash-in handicap...
from Kazakh, Ukraine, China of the rich...
etc.,
                    these internet-based non-NPC games...
they're great for non NPC non-a.i. characters,
i.e. the old games had... not so much NPC...
but s.i.: synthetic intelligence...
   it wasn't artificial as it wasn't analytical
intelligence, it was a fixed intelligence
of the "opponent" / i.e. narrative...
             modern gaming can only be spectated...
on the evolutionary "debate"
when you: only purchased a PS1 and didn't
buy any console after...
as if "waiting" for the internet to catch up
to the grid... where you could play games live...
imagine a game...
     like the old narrative games...
but where the "opponent", i.e. the narrative
learns from your first encounter...
   long gone would be the encounters
with NPC in the old school standard of
synthetic intelligence, synthetic implying:
repetition, nothing being new...
   if the NPS characters could be given
analytical intelligence parameters...
     you could reinvent the old model of games...
away from the internet FREE...
  but, really: you're playing with a handicap
against people who have made in-game
purchases... hell... once a game cost 20 quid...
and it might last you three weeks' solid
of weekend gameplay in the early morning
on a saturday... in bed...
           i'm not really a gamer...
well if i'm the *******, the throne of thrones
i'm a gamer: just like some people
are thinkers on the ******* reading books...
but the old "solipsist" gamer is long gone...
the one who played to construct
a complex cognitive narrative...
i'll repeat the mention...
i once told a "friend" about playing sims...
he was so engaged in the game,
built this, built that...
i told him i freaked out when i moved
my sim to play a game on the computer...
hence finding the illuminating
wormhole of the Droste Effect...
  i stopped playing...
  final fantasy VII?
   only with a walkthrough...
homework and ****...
           going to the mall on saturday
with the misfits...
running up tier carparks and then aiming
with saliva on people walking in...
    talking to hare krishna converts...
about Dave Lombardo's insane drumming...
ilford: early 21st century...

cut off... a second poem:

.poland played israel in a soccer match today, the hymns began, first came the israeli hymn... boos and whistling, at first... but then i heard casimir III hush the crowd.... lucky for me not being in warsaw... the crowd silenced their illogical anti-semitism, the choir sang, libera me domine... i cannot fathom the russian purges, or the germanic dislike of these people.... casimir III's hush... i look at the cat sitting on my bed, glum, yet proud... how soon the whistling and engaging with mob sounds was hushed when the israeli anthem was sung... i'm happy for these people, even if i am one of them, but at such a distance: i don't feel i am part of them... so much for the glorification of western objectivity standards in argument... but i am a ******, on the british isles... what sort of objectivity am i i to expect? the objective counter-subjectivity of born in Poland, but bred in England?! is that it?! walking abortion... i am proud that the crazed mob was hushed when the israeli anthem continued... after all... SS-obersturmbannführer rudolf höss did cite casimir III allowing jews to settle in these eastern european lands... nes c'est pas? né(s) ç'é(st) pā(s)?! how else to write something akin to this, without finding oneself gritting one's teeth, grinding them into a toothpaste sensation of fluoride sandpits?!

fan-boy literature: stendhal, dante,  
         dumas             (vs)
   young-adult novels,
              which, i will never read...

            just enough whiskey
to count the rounds
of the crucuible
of the current escapade...

i'm ageing,
but i still like bands
like i might be a teenager...
          
came the: grand sorrow
taste, for all that's worth,
in encompassing a tomorrow.
Shaded Lamp Jun 2014
If it were a sport it would be golf
It could be any reindeer but Rudolf
If it were shop shelf it would stock bleach
next to self tan oil for the 2 weeks on the beach
If it were a weather it would be overcast
A time of day? It would be breakfast.
As an animal it would surely be a toad
That did not quite make the journey across the road
And in the middle of the road it remains
The middle of the road flows through its veins.
Come over some time.
Elihu Barachel Jan 2015
There's one "special" Holiday, in the **** can I will toss
The Pagan Calibration, of fricking Santa Claus
-
If that ****** Bozo, down my chimney tries to come
I’ll blow his *** away, and beat it like a drum
-
Then I’ll shoot his Reindeer, I’ll have a jolly feast
Hey Rudolf Dancer Prancer, you will be deceased
-
All the Queerass little elves, I’ll blow away as well
And that stinking slay, I will go and sell
-
To the North Poll I will go, with an Atom Bomb
500 megatons!! And drop it with aplomb
-
December 25th, from the calendar I'll wipe
And all the goody-goody "Good Cheer", and all the Farceass Hype

{If you are getting the notion that I don't like Christmas, you are right! Why? I think it's blasphemous to associate the birth of Christ with a Pagan Holiday} {AND the way it's celebrated !!!}
Jason Schnepper Jun 2016
I don't need no presents
wrapped up underneath the tree
No I don't need no ribbons and bows,
or stockings hanging...
No I don't need no snow
or chestnuts roasting on an open fire
to make it feel like Christmas
I don't need no magical hats
or dancing snowmen
I just need for Santa to please listen
because there's something missing
that my heart only wishes for
while others are dreaming of a white Christmas
you see Santa
I'm dreaming of holding her so close in my arms
so please Santa
I don't ask much
I don't need no presents
wrapped up underneath the tree
I just need someone who I can love
who loves me just the same
No I don't need no ribbons and bows,
I just need someone who I can love this Christmas
I don't need sleigh bells ringing
I don't need no jingle bells jingling
to make it feel like Christmas
No I don't need Dancer and Prancer
and Donner and Blitzen
I just need Rudolf to please listen
there's something that I'm wishing for
to be next her and to make it by this Christmas
I don't need no presents
wrapped up underneath the tree
No I don't need no ribbons and bows,
or stockings hanging...
No I don't need no snow
or chestnuts roasting on an open fire
to make it feel like Christmas
I don't need no magical hats
or dancing snowmen
I just need someone to love me for me
this Christmas
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2015
me and collie took the town by storm,
black man and white man
drinking buddies? what a rarity.
uncle didn’t join us the old ghanian,
we had drunk sentimentalities, of course,
but when russel the schizoid rudolf came
up and told us the tottenham man city score
i went into the alley and almost ****** myself
prior shouting h and a into an ivory rattle of teeth.
but what a night, collie’s girlfriend i also met,
i remember kissing her dry brown skin
on the bone of finger, before being chauffeured home;
but of course, before all that, staring into
the gape of being centralised by the passerby’s eyes,
a lot of english pyjama beauties walked the talk
getting their score of **** -
if not more.
but as i pointed out to the white colt - the jeans below the knees
with... calvin kleine - ‘mate, you need flashy underwear to
walk with your **** exposed - primani ain’t gonna cut it for the hoes.’
Syddy Raye Dec 2014
Don't you know it's Christmas?
Theres kids cutting themselves
Toys being put on all the shelves
Were dealing with ISIS
But the holidays are priceless
Don't you know it's Christmas?
Theres people dealing with cancer
All we care about is Rudolf and Prancer
Theres teens commiting suicide
They should be kept warm and on the inside
Don't you know it's Christmas?
Al Quida taking the life of children
And were wondering when Santa's coming back again
Theres kids doing drugs
While were surrounded with hugs
Don't you know it's Christmas?
Mackenzie Dec 2018
This time last year
It was you
who filled me with Christmas cheer
even though loving you isolated me like
Rudolf the rednose reindeer
Slipping on ice
I only saw you but
Isn't it ironic
How love is so blind
Never once did I see that
You would be my demise
Your love was like a drug
Increasing my dose
Never afraid of getting too close
This Christmas
my heart is empty and
the weather is still cold
I prayed for you last night but the devil grabbed my soul
The love that we had
turned to coal
Snow settled in my heart
In the spot you used to hold
The holidays are so full of cheer
This year
I opened a box of our memories
No love lies here
M. D.
preservationman Nov 2014
As I open the book
Let us all take a look
Bells ring out throughout the square
The feeling of Christmas is in the air
A little boy sleeps dreaming of snow
This is New York City you just never know
The vision of a star
The Wise men who travelled far
Unity being a community
Christmas being truly in what you see
A little baby Jesus was a male being he
It’s was a rememorable night
In fact it was silent and no situation of plight
All the stars are shining bright
There’s Rudolf with his nose being a headlight
Oh look a dream did come true
The snow is falling
Well I have no time for stalling
Let’s throw snowballs and see who will fall
A Snowman stands and he is tall
Frosty is his name
A snowman loves to play a game
He’s decked out all in Christmas snow
Frosty moves along with the flow
Well I am starting to yond
This was a story I am very fond
I am falling asleep for sure
Yet my heart is full of joy all in galore
As I lay my head down
I am asleep across town
I will wake up Christmas morning bound
Full of praises will be the sound.
Ryan O'Leary Jun 2018
> > Santa:
> >
> > What the hell are you doing here,
> > I must have a red nose reindeer.
> >
> > Adolf:
> >
> > I don't know, the job centre sent me
> > and told me to put glitter on my antlers.
> >
> > Santa:
> >
> > Did you read the job description ?
> >
> > Adolf:
> >
> > I did, but the lady said that it was an
> > equal opportunities position.
> >
> > Santa:
> >
> > Did they give you a card?
> >
> > Adolf:
> >
> > Yes, here it is, you me and the bear.
> >
> > Santa:
> >
> > I don't believe this.
> >
> > Adolf:
> >
> > Well ! am I hired or not?
> >
> > Santa:
> >
> > I must ring the job centre.
> > Hello, Santa Claus here.
> > Where is Rudolf this year Miss?
> >
> > Job Centre:
> >
> > Hello Santa, he can't make it this year.
> >
> > Santa:
> >
> > But why not?
> >
> > Job Centre:
> >
> > We are not permitted to discuss our
> > clients affairs Mr Claus.
> >
> > Santa;
> >
> > But I must speak with him !
> >
> > Job Centre:
> >
> > The best I can do is to give you
> > the AA help line.
> >
> > Santa:
> >
> > Hello, I am looking for Rudolf.
> >
> > AA.
> >
> > Is this some sort of Joke?
> >
> > Santa:
> >
> > No, this is Santa Claus here.
> >
> > AA.
> >
> > This is Alcoholics Anonymous and we do not
> > give out information about our members. All I
> > can say is, everyone around the table here have
> > Red ******* like Rudolf.
> >
> > Merry Christmas, now ******* and stop annoying us.
> >
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2015
i said deer, deer! i didn't say rain dear or reindeer,
but anyway, where's my sledge and
boxes filled with presents?
i just looked like some madman running,
but then the animals were in too much stress
i had to appoint them a new rudolf.
<strike>( now the extra lines signifying
that i'm about to ruin a ****** decent poem:
as honest as it might be worth inquiring
to then only doubt... well, my heart
is still in a state of rhythmic crescendos that
just bulges into song for such depths
of experience, the thrill as if being the stag
leading them from one patch of forest to another:
basically i mean you experience the emotions
of doubt, and i'll just experience this.
no monkeys around to try and be tarzan,
plus it would have been traffic chaos,
as the two drivers on the road would nod to approvingly.
so women lie about their age,
and men lie about the date of birth,
so she gets all muddling puzzles reading a horoscope.
actually, you know what? i'm going to start
calling it journalism, every poet being the new journalist
exposing his private life, extremely
given the innermost of what they actually disseminate
thinking & feeling, as the two so far apart
that feelings give almost automatic thinking in
this medium, we once called poetry; why?
just because the word and art form originated in greek
does not mean it has to remain there forever.
bigmouth strikes again at the unsatisfactory edifice
of unattainable written expression of such emotion as shared
with the wild.)</strike>
well it was kinda funny, cos i was also holding a beer can.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
.well... d'uh... why would i give up this current freedom of expression, in a medium, that has been so perversely suppressed over the centuries, in the form of, literacy access? what, so now i'll get to bow down to the bog-weeds of computer literate html coders as my new priest-class masters?! so... in the space of a decade... people being allowed the freedom to gain access to literacy, also implieed changing hands with the "masters" of "access" via computer literacy? so... when was it a bad time to state: strenuously... oh but i'm a grammar "****"... all those aeons ago, when the priests held a monopoly on literacy (last century ago), and now, some ******* pleb is going to tell me... that i have to apply myself to literacy, in a lazy: meme / emoji way? one kick to the *** and three smackers to the jaw... and off they went... like a cricket ball, in the direction of a wicket.

******* ******* bagged-up
*******
    ruining "my" *******
jukebox...
   i can't find this one song
i want to listen to,
and it's ******* my head up
like some down syndrome
mental breakdown tantrum
worth of ****!
       ugh...
bottle for the *****...
i mean: shove those *****
down, through,
a turtleneck
and expect a samuel beckett's
existential qualm / angst
via the work akin to watt...
****'s sake!
         pwetty language!
all butterflies and disney
fairies... ******* *******...
   i once stuck a thumb
up my *** after doing
the no. 1, 2 and 3...
wiping my ***,
then taking a shower...
then sitting down on
the throne of thrones...
shoved a thumb up my ***...
how's that?!
  huh?!
       oh yeah...
felt good... really hit the spot...
if you think i'm lying...
i'll repeat it tomorrow
to give you a recap...
                      just once song...
no, nope...
we're done with you finding
new "****" to listen to...
grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreat!
thumbs up, or rather,
thumbs up your own arses...
******* pederasty pushers...
   i really, really,
really didn't give a **** about
all these youtube socio-political
commentators...
i just want the algorithm to
bring back a taste for
exploring music...
clearly: that ain't happening,
so what's new?
            ***** liquor,
pandering for a bunch of
******* elves waiting for
         sigmund freud santa
to call them the naughty
munchkins
      while spanking them...
******'oh plus 12,
minus rudolf...
who... santa does a little
bestiliaty you ******* commoner.
get up to speed with
the project, savvy?!
well... looking at the blocked toilet
of what appears to be hinduism's
"time out" in terms of
reicarnation...
   i.e. so, you're telling me,
there were only ever,
only a limited amount
of people, trans-, moving,
from one zombie body to the next?
i can "almost"
         understand the platonic
trans- "confusion"...
benzene rings only acquire
the para-, meta- and ortho- posits
of attachment groups...
        it's a ******* nightmare,
this, current, reincarnation's
worth of a blocked toilet
   "world of events"
       wortvongeschehen...
blocked toilet of reincarnation,
as if, people are... "waking up"
from their mortal slumber...
trans- to one side,
          right mind, wrong body...
and incels to the other....
      wrong mind, right body...
               or whatever you call someone:
"too old" for their own age...
   it's almost like incels were
given "cheat codes" to the "game"
of life...
   the mind is too old for the body...
an inversion of premature dementia...
the mind has aged,
beyond the host capacity
    of the body...
unlike the Hegelian dialectic...
this is a host / parasite dichotomy...
most sane people have
a parasitic mind, and a host body...
but some...
have a host mind,
   and a "parasitic" body...
               the body itself is
a "parasite" rather than a parasite...
on the grounds that:
at least food is ingested,
   etc.,
                     but there's an
inherent existential bewilderment
as to why...
a mind can be trapped
in a body of a male...
   or a female...
or... as in the case of incels...
a mind of an old man,
is trapped in a body...
that hasn't even achieved its peak
of 40s plateau of
                            exertion;
i think i'm old,
             not that i "think" i'm old...
but i've come to experience
myself of the sort of reaction
associated to an old man,
without an old man's body...
it's no more a normie
standard for "delusion" as if
the normie standard of
fear of taboo associated with
   trans-"gender" current politico...
so...
as i once said:
in a mad world,
who are the sane propagators?
the mad.
the sane are off their rockers
filing suits
to conjure up the cartesian
inversion of sum ergo cogito...
i am liberal,
therefore i think like a liberal (etc.)...

           nietzsche did that part,
but only made a footnote out of it
in human, more than human...
so...
    go figure.

       i actually don't know what
a "liberal" is these days...
hearing: i'm a liberal, i'm a liberal
yadda yadda...
but then hearing the thinking
behind: i'm a liberal, i'm a liberal...
when propositions
were made precursors to
prepositions...
   that'll be the day...

          right now...
i'm in rampage mode...
                i drink, i turn into a juggernaut
when typing...
   neurotic about spelling mistakes...
and, to be honest?
that's what i need:
no room for lying,
and certainly even less for
spelling errors.
preservationman Nov 2014
The vision of Santa being a Christmas Tree
The tree having smiles of jolly He He
This is children’s delight
The Santa tree having all the color that makes it a sight
All the sparkle that shine bright
Santa’s long white beard being extending in leading the ensemble to the Christmas Tree
A Santa train moving from top to bottom in and out while puffing smoke all about
A springle of snow that just shoots out from the tree
This will be a Christmas to not forget for all to see
Then having the North Pole sitting at the top of the tree
Rudolf pops out to give Christmas wishes
Then the Christmas tree makes a turn into a waltz
Standing superior being the Santa Christmas tree
The Santa Christmas tree being admired
A child’s heart feeling inspired
An atmosphere of pure excellence
The beauty being magical in significance
What more can Christmas be?
A child awaits Santa’s arrival and Christmas morning for all gifts to see
But let’s not forget what Christmas is all about
It’s the baby Jesus being the shout
HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL
DASH AWAY DASH AWAY BEING SANTA’S CALL.
Derek Bascombe Oct 2016
Cranky from the lack of sleep,
I twist my fin
into a knot of agony
Swoosh!!

The-...     An-...
Aw, the **** with it...

Lately
I’ve been thinking
that all men are cremated
equally crisp.
But my next door neighbor
still smolders darkly
in his backyard grill pit,
his dogs frantic in their drooling lust
to lick his charred flanks.

Dear grieving widow –
would you honor me
by dropping in for a cup of tea?
She wails and moans,
her pelvis slack
and canted downwards.
It will be a chore
to get her to loosen up enough
to hurl a ****
heavenwards.

The specifics of our last conversation
escape me.
But I do remember calling you
an angelic ****
with the personality
of a rabid piranha.

You responded, with a dreamy smile,
“But, my dear Rudolf!
I do select my prey
by their spread and heft!
After all,
I just love to hear
that gristly pop
when they open up
for my sanguine delectation...”


Aurora, CO – May 1995
Derek Bascombe
JidosReality Dec 2016
A “Merry Christmas” to you all


Dreams with smiles and wishes coming true Christmas trees with presents under the tree just for you.

Loads of cards just to let you know how many people love you Roast Turkey, Roast Vegetables there’s so much love in this room.

I can feel Mrs Clause and Rudolf smiling because christmas makes us feel good.Little children in the room with family and friends laughing out loud.

The smell of the food in the kitchen is so nice, there’s a knock at the door please let the snowman in-side.

Eggnog and Sherry for grandma and grandpa, little kids all around the telly watching Madagascar. The rooms filled with laughter kids opening every present they get faster, wrapping paper all around with Christmas songs to sing along.

Christmas Socks all been raided chocolate sweets all over people’s faces Marry Christmas to you all and may the day grant all your wishers.

And even though your belly feels full it’s okay to offer to clean up all the dishes.




Jidos Reality 5.12.12
No rocket surgeon,
     nor brain scientist called upon
but only Rudolf the red nose reindeer
solicited as psychological mentor
yes...undoubtedly countless
     decades removed since queer  
(not very gay at all!)
     ****** changing phenomena

     from thine angst riddled
     biological metamorphosis allows me to peer
with greater theft of mine precious youth stolen,
     via piercing overbear
ring mailer daemons,
     when mine tender age did near

cusp whence onset of puberty
     clapped development tight as if by
     a doppelganger mutineer
warp and weft of mine lifetime tapestry
     mine acute perception doth lear
as threads got tightly woven
     into mine casual knitwear

though pubescent phase
     wrought with oppressive foresight
     interwoven with jeer
ring bullying hmm...maybe thine ability
     to distill self actualization
     extant among interlinear
teenage stage viewable

     during my youthful days, but clouded over asper
     mine more vivid perspective here
from this present moment
     ha...amusing insight from present perch
     devoid of adolescent glare
sire re: brill grade

     do lobes gleam freer,
now with insight aye ear
rate at such pitch 'ere
perfect hindsight aye declare,
yet as a much younger self
     when I hapt to be a boy, acuity seemed oblivious
     to perceive via sight and sound

what social cues visceral, (visual,
     and audiological) seems crystal clear
revisiting non verbal
     awkward teenage mutant
     ninja turtle memories, that now deafeningly blare
at the threshold of ear
     splitting decibels, how hard of hearing human
     (nada so) subtle in retrospect, I am aware
interpersonal nuances clear as the tune
     Doris Day Que será, será
     did voice, a catchy air.
Robin Carretti May 2018
The Red
Instead
&
Read
inside
the
ceremonies
All charities $$$
Formalities

All to see
Never nothing
On me
Red fire
Mercedes
Mouths
you could
never
Race and
beat those
Stepford Wives
*
Never said
they were
ladies

Ritual
deep red
lipstick

Risky
business
slick
Boost of salaries
phonies
yellow
chicks
Cold cuts such
a ham
Humming Mrs.
(Honey Baked)
Red show
pictures

Red light
Catch
them
Red Hoods
Oh! what a
Knight-light

Those dark
negatives
Became ******
Maleficent
book light
Stay positively?

Extremely
Indian-Bow
redface
painted
cults Wow


The Boston
creme pie
That ****** fool
Hot barn gals
Warrior
Blue

Sword Fee
number
clue (He)
Just pay up
red dual

Antique
fireplace
Hire-red-lace
Devil made me
Risque
dancing

Wind- up Dollie
One of
a mind
doll
Romancing
Red-bed
Wickedly
insulted

The cardinal
the male red
Madly
Totally Rad

The female
Red bling
with his
garnish
feastly

Beastie
clocker
Beguiled
brownish
What
was told
and really said?

French tickler__


New ****
Orleans
Red District 3
Never
said to
wear red

Read this if you are
too late
You will take fate in
your own hands
Don't end up dead

Red rear view
window
project bodies
possessed
Words
Went
worrisome
Never said
Enchanted
more some

Read this
maybe
you will be
protected
Mystical
" Rainforest tea"
Rooibos
Bossy Ross
the fairest
The more
blood on
your
hands

The poison
arrow frog
Lilith Leap
year
Sitting
in
red chilled
over ice
chairs
having
eggnog
Never said
I fell for
Autumn
leaves

London
Big Ben
Fog
Firey Red
Stop sign yo yo
** **
Grains
Silo
Santas
Tapas
Drinks
babes lap
Never said
Computers

Red App
and Red
collar
pups
Read this shut up
Those laptops
They gave to
Swindler Cops

Chinese
red
British
colony
lucky year

Precious
red nails
jewels
He is
bloodshot
Seeing through
his lies
((Red Raise Glass shot))

I never said why?
More jewels
Gracious Rudolf
Deers

I never said
I was from
the old school
Cheers
Red can be remarkable lucky and also mysteriously ******. But hold onto your jewels and take a ride with Red Robin Red Breast
Donna Feb 2018
I went out today
And it is so cold outside
I looked liked Rudolf
Yeap it is freezing out today and we been forecast heavy snow x
Ryan O'Leary Dec 2019
This Christmas I am going
to set a trap for Santa Claus.

My mother leaves a red apple
on the windowsill for Rudolf

And a bottle of Harp Lager
with a slice of cake for Santa.

While everyone's sleeping, I
am going the empty some of

The beer and put a strong
quick acting laxative inside.

By the time he gets to my
cousins, he will have diarrhoea.

It will put an end to his deliveries
and give poor old Rudolf a break.
Ryan O'Leary Aug 2018
.           W A R N I N G.
                WARNING.
                  warning.

   Santa Klaus is a *******,
who goes into children’s rooms
after dark, while Rudolf, a ****
  sympathiser, metaphorically
     promotes, Khmer Rouge,
      plus The Red Brigade,
as he waits in the snow with
a Rufous nose collecting ***’s,
from insomniacs, the homeless,

                      and

           Domatophobiacs!
Relieved of fatherhood Saint
Nick schtick found me
to relinquish ratty outfit, and stow away zee bras
like padding and "FAKE flowing beard,
ah...don't remind me,
those well worn faux paws

of each dear deer (hooping Rudolf would
set precedent as every other reindeer hoof
dost not get cleft out in the cold) withdraws
not to budge like...a Mexican stonewall
contractual obligations grudgingly negotiated,
(especially citing animal abuse as insanity clause),

while angrily clattering rooftop
to rooftop, without pause,
what, and me forcing those strenuous hee haws
(hint to potential dada's, that ledger domain
promising humongous gifts gets old fast,
generating nuttin boot lockjaws

(other Kris Kringles would agree),
where haggard overworked (underpaid)
frequently threatening unionized joining
posse to become outlaws
migrant elves lose stamina to applause,
the jolly ** ** ** role of Santa Claus,

and to a lesser extent return (like new -
with store tag) Easter Bunny suit, defacto
birthday party planner, et cetera,
oh...almost forgot tooth fairy -
ouch! that took a ****** bite out of finances,
hence needed heavy duty gauze,

yet now this papa merely draws
lipservice joy to the world Bobe myseh,
aye yie yie despite punishing, nee
turning into filet mignon, those who poo poo
those culturally grafted pagan grand Poobahs
face lash, and quickly get

smote with invisible taws
particularly any
antiestablishmentarianism
leftist southpaws,
no matter poetically wry ming spewed cents

ability uttered from courtesy
minority reporting maws,
(case in point dexterously yours truly)
laments glaring flaws,
not only of those unaccountable booking costs
driving Earthly unaffordable

materialistic capitalistic jaws,
no matter (albeit
more quiet and somber),
I breathe sigh of
relief to escape naws
zee hating crass mass foofaraws,

and beat hasty retreat from pandemonium
(part and UPS parcel)
fueling manufacturing factories
producing widgets, trinkets, gewgaws,
et cetera subsequently giving employment
(reed nepotism) opportunities

to aunts, uncles in-laws
of management (a perk
found most objectionably
with he who doth trumpet
deed duck shins
to needy) re: yule stated

Taj Mahal family cause,
but to enrich the coffers
of salivating power hungry
(jibber jabber) money grubbers
brandishing chainsaws
to cut down farmed Christmas trees,

where dollar signs
spin each eyeball rubbed raws,
this minor manifesto
concludes as welcome retreat,
where stale Yuletide saws
reverberate warbled carolers
punctuating psalm songs with ews ah ahs!
Ryan O'Leary Nov 2018
Got my first Irish cold,
woke up today like a
sniffer dog.

Must to go buy some
propper handkerchiefs.

Since they began making
them out of toilet paper,
noses become Rudolf'd.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2017
for so many people who claim to
be living,
   well... i see them as often as i
might see the dead,
or pay my "respect" before their grave;
and when i do see them?
i'd prefer seeing a ghost
to be honest.
gravestones are more easibly
fathomed / digested,
than neighbours you haven't seen
for years while living next to them
for years,
but who you nonetheless acknowledged
by taking their large packet mail...
sure as ****, these people
claiming to be alive,
   are but a hair's width away from
being claimed, dead;
if this is life? please send me to the crematorium:
prompto!
   even my retired communist party
grandfather speaks out-loud
dementia-esque: this is not the sort of life
i'd like to live...
  let alone retire into with a pair
of loafers... now, that's telling...
      a retired communist says this,
what's the retired capitalist going to say?
ka-ching?!
       like **** he is,
he's only going to do what every capitalist knows
what to do... i.e.? panic!
watch him... he'll turn all schizoid and
make insinuations of owning what he owns,
+... a tapeworm eating at him.
oi! oi oi! lucy! you forgot
to attach the feral?! ladies & gents,
  we can now claim to have opened the first
gymnastic zoo!
  guess where we send the mental health
children... dunno(h) to be honest,
better ask rudolf höss -
thing is, that always bugged me,
is that faking diacritical arithmetic,
saying i, can't count?
     huss, hooß? surely... shapren sherven...
are the germans are ******* with me
given the umlaut count
and the pre-existing latin grapheme of œ?
seriously, stop ******* with me,
i know you say it as: rudolφ hehß...
yep you curl the omicron out of existence...
english do it all the time with
their surd "diacritics" of certain letters
- (e.g.? gnome gnostic diagnostic - oh look!
here it pops up!) -
H = scissors for graphemes,
great jewish invention, by the way;
very much avoidable,
           although, not this time, k.k. k, o?
never know how it goes...
o.k.? or k.o. - he's on the floor, he's not
asking, nor exclaiming,
              just call it the comatose stop.

in summary: for so much claim to life,
i see my neighbours and nothing beyond
the rescue of pre-maturely residing in
a grave,
    and as all sober people have it:
no worthwhile epitaph to mind,
unless it be a copy & paste story,
and some obscure date,
   in that famous copernican non-linear
sense, minding an inclusion in
the neo-communism that's apparent
within the content of history;
      history is the new communism,
can't you see it?
       we are already enrolled in minding
it...
     go on, wave, ola!
     say hello to the new communism
that's the study, and transcending the study
of history...
      oddly... i always thought
of history as an appetite for hoarding,
and car-boot sale markets... in french
that's called flea markets...
  useless junk, celebrated with victorian grandeur
of sombre + black;
sure as ****, for those claiming to be alive,
in neighbourly-talk,
the dead feel more alive than these
******* zombies, invisible to their shadow,
or casting none, for that matter;
curse of narcissus translated by
the curated non-existence of a mirror:
vampires and the lost visage in a mirror,
  these zombies and the lost shadow;
if vampires cast no reflection in a mirror,
zombies cast no shadow, with either
the sun's or the moon's array.
The Figurative Nail Hit On The Hair Strand Size Head!

Though no physician,
this aging baby boomer
absolutely, intuitively, and
unequivocally sensed hair loss (mine),
at first a speculative rumor
not simply in my (ahem) head,
no matter a minimalist groomer

nevertheless, thinning follicles,
upon dawning realization, sans medical
sought relief thru good humor,
though within this balding cerebral noggin
became repulsive as if my scalp
pulled pate rendered as a tumor.

Thus an unexpectedly present surprise
when in private consultation in the guise
as out patient client (early afternoon
December 19th, 2018),
where I did fraternize
and kibitz with the medical assistant

(old enough to be my...sister),
aye did exercise
mild mannered mien mean, aye do patronize
before doctor Rudolf (dearly
reigned) Roth, a practicing
Dermatologist told me no lies

his instant karma knowledge - mainly his
thirty seven years expertise
sought to excise
a prominent non cancerous mole approximately
centered middle of back
a small patch of skin,

he needed to anesthetize
nonetheless, a reassuring persona,
yours truly did lionize
(not merely, cuz
he received a five star rating,
specialist under auspices

of Penn, Medicine)
in Radnor Pennsylvania),
his modest calm did neutralize
any uneasiness, as did his pronounced
humility earn kudos to idolize
such rarely present gentility, and

unwitting capacity did harmonize,
and maximize significance to me,
asper my thinning limp
hair logically rationalize
identified underactive thyroid gland

(hypothyroidism) tubby,
which didst legitimize
no hair brained rooted concern,
hence...less reason to catastrophize',
which for no reason I
wanted to mildly emphasize,
hence choice to apostrophize...

— The End —