"scopes" poems
My thoughts now live in the cloud,
My moments, wishes and hopes,
Opinions, preferences, scopes
Our loved ones live in the cloud,
Their Voices are screaming out loud,
“We hope you all make us proud”.
Our Selves now live in the cloud.
The future, present and past,
A shadow we eagerly cast.
The things we have renounced,
So hard to claim it back
There’s more than meets the eye,
The Cloud is just a lie.
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 9:27 AM UTC
I'd love to peer into that brain of yours and see the actual mechanics of your thinking. Where those creative juices of yours throb and pulse. Ya, I'll drink to that.
Maybe use one of them scopes to explore the left ventricle of your heart (you know, that chamber of the Heart that pumps blood through the aorta). Figure out that sensitive heart of yours.
Explore the rubber consistency of the lining of your lungs. With that heaving chest and ******* of yours, those lungs must be so healthy in their pinkish hue. Just some barstool thoughts while waiting for closing time.
Staring into this shot glass in front of me, my memory harkens back to the time you cut your arm and I ****** the blood from it, so salty and all. I want to bottle you up in a liquid formula or capsulize your essence in a unique pill form where I can digest and absorb you and grow new cells from the energy I receive from the calories of your precious body.
Maybe with the power of your bodies flesh I can grow a sixth toe, develop a third eye, build an ***** I love you so much I could eat you up!
Barkeep says this is last call so I better drink up and be on my way. I wonder what your left ventricle really looks like under close inspection?
Just wondering, do you have any x-rays of your body I could have?
See ya, Creepy Ray Ray
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
Oh, the sensation, the media frenzy,
The spotlight, the fame, the hullabaloo,
When anti-evolution laws
Were challenged by the ACLU!
The year: 1925.
The place: Dayton, Tennessee.
To say it was an extravaganza
Wouldn't be hyperbole.
For many people it was hard
To find a way to reconcile
Biblical accounts with science,
So science found itself on trial.
A young teacher, John T. Scopes,
Was willing to face prosecution
For breaking a Tennessee law for having
Given a lesson on evolution.
The "Monkey Trial" it was called.
The challenge meant swimming upstream
For the feisty lawyer Clarence Darrow,
Who helped to lead the defense team.
A prosecutor was William Jennings
Bryan, who with no apology
Loved to stir up outrage against
Evolutionary biology.
Defendant Scopes quickly found
It wouldn't take long for him to know
What it was like to have a part
In a multimedia reality show.
The courthouse received a make-over:
Platforms for newsreel cameras were built;
Extra spectator seats were added.
They were playing the trial to the hilt.
Concession stands sold food and drinks;
Toy monkeys were on display;
A chimp was dressed in a suit and fedora;
The clergy also joined the fray.
The media and the public loved it!
The country watched the trial progress.
What would win: science or scripture?
The answer was probably easy to guess.
After an eight-day trial, the jury
Deliberated. Nine minutes later
They had their verdict: guilty! How
Could someone question THEIR creator?
Scopes had actually never given
The lesson. That's what he later said.
Strangely, five days after the trial,
Williams Jennings Bryan dropped dead.
Laws later changed, but even during
Current times, some people feel
That stories from the Bible should be
In science textbooks. Now THAT'S surreal!
-by Bob B (11-6-18)
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 9:00 AM UTC
Its lost in transient ideals
The vivid colours in changing scopes
- and the doors are all open
Its broken but fixable
Your system I mean
- Its corrosive
(Two men on a brick wall, blowing halted tunes through old whistles)
And the country is talking aloud
You can't complain that nobody listens
Wailing sirens in the dusk sky, saddened, non satiata
Will you trust these sounds at such volumes
It's deafening, the city when it cries
When she cries, when the city dies
When the government lies
When the government lies
- because they do lie
All of them
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 5:17 PM UTC
I do not believe in fairytales, so be straight,
Experience was present, and it's worth the faith.
I do not want to rely, on repeating hopes in oblivion,
If promises were prayers, I don't have religion.
Continuing is just a self-detonation, prolonging the agony,
blaming myself, living life hard sadly.
I am seeing the inequality, on every angle and scopes,
sometimes I am thinking hanging my neck on the ropes.
and as I blame,
negative tendency,
occurs.
comes, sudden,
unexpectedly.
but,
when I see you, negativity's gone,
my inspiration's overflowing,
keeps me away from frown.
but,
when I see you, my depth dissapears,
and all of a sudden,
I want to lend an ear,
but,
when I'm with you, my heart skips a beat,
I step out of my seriousness,
in your cup, I sitdown and take a sip,
but,
when I'm with you, I want to listen
I want to know you further,
overlaps, to what they're just seeing,
to hear every stories told, with your cheerful voice,
your warmth, that caresses my body,
builds up my poise,
transcends a choice, to be happy or not,
I forget all my worries,
and say I'm a little pessimist, but
..I am looking forward,
to stay this way,
for as long, as we both can,
complete our days.
Apr 25, 2011
Apr 25, 2011 at 6:18 AM UTC
When you discover the world around you
You also discover all within it
Selfishness, Greed, Hatred, Infidelity, Abuse, Sickness, Waste, Homelessness, and War
We bare witness to all these things
But selfishly ignore them,
In route to prospect of all these evil forces that misguides us
For better or worse
It scopes our daily lives with inconvient truth's
The mental or physical rightousness
That lies in the truth of disparage
History of our actions will go noted
In the days and years that come about as such
You can not tell life what to do
You must surrender it all into the hands of God
That he protects you from the shame, one must feel deep inside
Waivers us from all our faults and sin alike
Trust in the inner voice that speaks to you and believe
For God's truth is yours if you want it
Set your intentions to heal thyself and other's
Peace be still in you, with love for your sister and your brother
Or let your misguided judgement, and false preservations follow you into your own judgement to...Hell!
(upwc) by: Zenobia Lee/LadyZ710 12/13/09
Dec 17, 2009
Dec 17, 2009 at 7:10 AM UTC
Two days old, as hours foretold,
Wisdom is a gift, heartily gifted so.
Life’s greatest mysteries left to unfold,
Hourglass sand drowns the catacomb.
Time perceived through linear scopes
Shows present truths and fallacies as heard.
Elope distinctions, divorce similarities,
For the world is backward and time, reverse.
Lessons learned, reiterate the word,
Responsibility, the key to community.
Prosper, live long,
Disease is only deadly when extinct is the immunity.
Freely versed, lyrically rehearsed,
Speaking from the heart blends emotion at the worst
With flint and tinder
Striking up fire, but always a spark first.
Apr 11, 2011
Apr 11, 2011 at 2:56 PM UTC
Thatcher vacuum seals nicotine
Slurps cigarette like mosquito
Ravenous lungs gnaw and grind for the slow pander,
Thatcher’s just another name for the labeling
We plaster and pine for an out,
Stitch that finite lie beneath squeamish child skin,
Thatcher’s the black lung paradise,
******* infancy coddling cigarette stifle,
The caloric crack of his canines fletching out lust and sickly groove
As he’s scopes out fiend and vexed vandals,
Clutches the sick theistic **********
Cuddle those bruise licked hips
Give God the gross percent,
Cause heaven’s in those greenbacks
and God’s in the ******* kick,
Suckling bout the American tip
The Christian capitol,
Seething on shadow puppet ****** and American dream,
Gods got nothing to do with the slickened crinkle of gain and glamour,
Thatcher’s just the candy man give and cult,
Cough the crutch of contagion greed
And clutch the cuff of your porcelain sleeve,
Thatcher gleans your blackest suite tight,
Struts raven blade shoulders perched on American made spine,
Thatcher does as Thatcher please,
Thatcher thinks as Thatcher bleeds,
And Thatcher bleeds venereal blend,
Gout with the American veneer of broken girl and scabbed moral traumatic,
Trauma tastes as the hollow pixies give out the get out,
Bandaged baby girls,
The teenage horror show,
Just another blazoned hit of one two take the hand me down generic give away,
Desensitize the humanize,
Girls got to get the days glossy puff and sniff,
Thatcher’s content to satisfy,
Callous coroner a spectator suckling Marlboro lick,
Lodging thick smoke and toxin between spittle slick lips,
Albino plumes clotting and unfolding,
Thatcher clicks back the cartridge
Filter and cigarette,
Thatcher gulps back the need because brain’s got a favoring kink for the buzz,
Thatcher sings with the screaming in his straggling lungs,
Hums the western creed
Laughs fickle with God at his need,
Thatcher’s the true American dream
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 5:17 PM UTC
The evidence:
a thickened chest and a dim grin,
which triumph over my strong insouciance
After twenty two
plus hope,
though yet ungrasped,
the chasm between our scopes has not narrowed!
I glided past you, above the whim of time,
you did not notice
'We merely coexisted almost met but always messed it,
spinning around like two sides of a coin'
My resistance,
for once as a raised voice,
importunes the years!
I am inclined to remain unknown,
no nearer,
lest I upset fate
It is better;
one thing to do that I have never done:
send you a poem
(How Do I Love Thee?)
You are you;
I am I
What is meant to be will always find its way
Espy!
Oct 11, 2020
Oct 11, 2020 at 9:31 PM UTC
Push, pull
False security...
Push, pull
Hidden identity...
Push, pull
Sweet words to sprinkle...
Push, pull
Bared, but in riddles...
Push, pull
Lashed on with high hopes...
Push, pull
Driven on low scopes...
Push, pull
Expectations, desires...
Push, pull
All but a lie?
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 2:45 PM UTC
I am Liberia!
Though scared by scourges of allien spades,
My resilience bears the fountain of heaven's grace,
Piercing the pangs of all my shades!
My independence, I breathed into Africa's lungs,
Clothed her with my stripes, the red, white and blue;
And gave her a star when she knew not one!
My waters rhythm waves of freedom,
Hailing treasured mountains and supreme chiefdoms.
Divine gemstones overflow the scopes of my coast,
Their sparkles define the image of my undeniable beauty!
My children are the ordained species of apex predators!
Their lineages are woven with blackness,
The tattooed birthmark of optimism—
Unbleached to proclaim the glorified identity of their motherland!
With arms of liberty I do solemnly pledge
The allegiance of a century filled heritage!
I today connect a living channel to the realm of your soul,
Bidding you welcome,
Welcome to Rediscover Mama Liberia
Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 6:47 PM UTC
*mr death's blue eyed girl
night falls and she's in the bathroom
again with a pocket of pills and her will
to live faltering or shivering in the corner*
the vintage radio plays and she's
stuck in the sweltering heat alone
in the kitchen, hero left her the victim
and she's bending silver spoons with her mind
saying she knows what he's thinking
a psychic or an unbearable palm reader
and she's suddenly taking off again
perhaps some other guy will pick that will to live up
with his nimble fingers and lovely wrists
she was the victim, but she's feeling lifted
again into small fragile scopes of life
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 5:43 AM UTC
Sir Isaac Newton wasn't "using his head"
When the "aha moment" fruit fell
He assumed it was gravity, an attraction to the earth
It was weight and decay rate, no romantic pell
Many scream "separation of church and state"
In the Constitution you will not find that phrase
But in a personal letter to the Danbury congregation
It has been arbitrarily elevated to "law" in our nation
In the Scopes trial Evolution was criticized
Scopes was arrested, the masses cried "victimized"
To play on the "heart-strings" of the "under-educated"
Those worshippers of Evolution were placated
Hypocrites obscuring all God-given laws
Building a "strawman" with individual straws
Satan has questioned all God's "thou shalt nots"
NASA has filmed in a studio basement "our Astro-nots"
Jesus' words have been futurized by Baptist dispensation
Jesus said plainly it's "in this generation"
Scripture is not a "wax nose" you can eisegete
Exegete in the present tense Greek
How do we equitably represent all voices, in a
Public school system that claims they consider all choices
Public schools don't exist, "special agendized" schools do
Claiming universal intolerance, they're intolerant of truth
Let us say in the "Dagon bye" to all "blessings in disguise"
We'll be in[spire]d by the "blessings in the skies"
We're all from Adam's atoms by God's sovereignty
Lord roll my soul in humility, cajole my spirit patiently
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 11:25 PM UTC
mud from the cemetery
everyday on his boots and clothing
and everyday he'd wash the shovels
muddy water like a river
muddy red waters
the graves are dug deep like a cliché
six feet under
too small for a back ***
so down he jumps
digging deeper
from cemetery to cemetery
in rain or by moonlight
he works hard every night
till his calluses bleed
a muddy white truck
and muddy wooden handled tools
the perfect cover
you'd think he worked there
he scopes the obits
looking for fresh funerals
he prefers meat on the bones
there's no profit in grave robbing
no one is buried wearing valuables
and there's no market for dead body parts
he just likes the smell of formaldehyde
the vacated looks on their faces
and the occasional surprise
when he finds one with open eyes
Oct 12, 2010
Oct 12, 2010 at 9:02 AM UTC
At the Empire's fringe
A woman and man
Traveled by night
over oceans of sand.
The woman, quite pregnant,
rode their sole beast of burden.
Her time; near at hand,
Her child's fate; uncertain
They saw a light in the distance
from a sheepherder's ranch
The couple was fearful
but saw it was their best chance
an abandoned outbuilding
on the outskirts of the spread
It had a tin roof
and some straw for a bed.
The blankets they carried
Jose lay on the straw
He then helped down Maria
who could travel no more.
The empire has watchers
with guns and night scopes
on the watch for illegals
there to frustrate their hopes.
Maria was panting
Jose said” bear down!
The baby is coming
I can see it, the crown"
The watchers were coming
in their camouflage Jeep.
They pulled up near the ranch
to that garage they would creep
Looking in through a window
they saw the birth of the child
one of them swore
but the other just smiled.
The birth of that child
on American soil
would serve as an Anchor
for that man and his girl.
The couple thanked God
that their child had survived.
That the boy they named Jesus
in this new land would thrive.
Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 2:40 PM UTC
Too hungover to sleep,
Third eye too clouded to see into my dreams.
More broken glass from the night that's passed,
Dealing with questionable decisions that amounted up pretty fast.
Soreness to adorn my body with more colors that can be observed
Health withering and so I head to Mother's nature preserve.
I wonder what I do to my nerve endings,
While I take on all that's mind-bending,
To eventually open it back up.
Seeing a world through more than just squinted eyes
Situations shed light the more you try.
My body is hurtin' but in the woods I come alive,
revitalize, and realize where I'm meant to be through what I can perceive.
The beauty I capture with my scopes on the daily makes think I'm living a dream.
Time to show my wildflower,
Outside with the fresh oxygen that I will devour.
I've given myself signs that point to my true power.
Now, no time to sit,
Gotta make the most of what could be my last hour
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 10:57 AM UTC
Where lives are saved and lives are lost,
Transparent waves simmering and smoking,
Islanders shouting 'bon voyage,'
Against the colossal empty carcass of stone.
We were alive, we were one.
Like you said in the sloppy mud,
The surreptitious metal clashing,
Screaming its choiring shout of affirmation.
The deity that strung us by the neck,
Forcing us to choke on our natural *****
The door has closed.
Let it be heard in a whisper
In the evanescent air.
Like the pairing of two great crashing waves.
I remember that twilight tulip's lip,
The cupid's bow puckered earnestly yet forsaken.
And with our bodies braced
We raise the anchor,
Bearing our scopes far beyond the horizon.
A never ending sail in the wind.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 8:18 PM UTC
I flashed and flickered when I was young.
Now my years have stretched my rays.
Cretins stared through hollow scopes
And showered me with unearned praise.
Now my heart begins to fade,
Dying down like burned-out coals.
Emptiness expands my night. And
Some shall ask, “Do stars have souls?”
Could I but cry I’d shed a tear;
Eternity has refused to stay.
Night, my home, shall send me off
To twinkle somewhere far away.
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 12:27 AM UTC
As summer air swaddles me from
ear to waist, the most benign of all sounds sets off a biological riot in me &nights; like these
take my breath away enough to stir up in me the awarenessthat
I
am not
what they want.
Neither Satan nor Substandard
could beg more than what I've been aching to portray.
Both less than and less than
hold their finely tuned scopes and too-broad knowledge to every detail I present.
Neither more eager to please than the other, I blend
devil's advocacy with indifference, but I still can't make either pair of eyes
lips or
fingertips
meet mine.
Oh & Satan,dearest when you take my hand I melt,
I'm desperate to stitch it toyours. But you've no use
for the doppleganger I'd become
to coax approval from the masses.
With that, I crane my neck to see the tower that you are, Substandard. Pleading indecency
and
scoffing at regret, I could almost
mistake your saccharine tone
of voice for the alluring Song of Satan.
I gather up my sins into a bundle and leave them by your side while I plead with fate to condemn my
soul,
elicit a wisp of affection from you,
something for me to hold onto
until winter returns.
What sort of discomfort can coerce a girl to pray for madness just to win inadequacy over?
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 10:48 PM UTC
Out with the old
And in with the new
I'm rather sick of you
And your shade of blue
So pack your bags and keep walking it
Because these moccosins are wearing awful thin,
These shoes can't take the softenin'
So I'm stuck scraping the **** off of them
Where's the coffin when; you're needin' one
I didn't see the gum before I stepped in it
Now I'm left with it- on the bottem of my soul
And your diamonds are still coal so I'm still cold
To any bull that you throw,
Because the catch is I can catch its, truth
As long as any tooth stuck to the roof
Of your mouth screams out about
How it's living a lie and giving the blind
False hopes through all scopes
That have you in their sights
And sleep with you at nights;
When you're leaving your side
Of my bed freezing-
I can only hope
That one day your secrets,
Will become your regrets
And your defects,
Will become your respects.
Until then I keep my hand raised
In the background; in case my sound
Will ever be found, but it seems too loud
For me to come around-
So I keep my distance
And put my name on the guest list
Like I'm just another "friend"
Looking to the future
And having faith in the end,
Like you won't be another "again"
Aug 15, 2010
Aug 15, 2010 at 4:33 AM UTC
A fued between parallel polarities
Inner connections, of unwavering complexity
Veiled by the naked, winds of sincerity
I can change faces swifter than a Pharisee.
Hate, cannot be measured by scopes
The devil himself was failing to cope,
With the loss of his honor and the loss of his hope
God placed his neck into the hang man's rope.
A covenant that he broke, fought hard and he choked
Existence was a hoax, he traded virtue for jokes
And in the sanctum that withers, hides at night and then slithers
The black holes draw hither, when bliss becomes shivers.
I'll place my fate, into the hands of the Seraphim
His breath stops and still I can't carry him
Eyes that bear the sorrow of a paladin,
Repressed thoughts return and they devour him.
It's all another means of control
Man's wickedness, has long since taken its toll
We observe the illusion as our essence grows cold
Loss of passion is the loss of one's soul.
Between being and nothing, I cannot distinguish
Innovative thoughts, rise up and diminish
The pride resolves, until at last we are finished
We cannot reconcile with loss of innocence.
Minds trapped in pathological discourses
Ideology imposed by the ruling forces,
Too blind to seek truth at the heart of the sources
Dissent is drowned out in a fusion of voices.
They say death is the cousin of sleep
Perhaps that's preferable to these lives that we keep
We draw blood for the profits we reap
I see all around me red, white, and blue sheep.
Jul 17, 2010
Jul 17, 2010 at 7:28 AM UTC
She was gone forever,
Never to return ever,
May her soul rest in peace,
I bade her a last goodbye kiss.
As I entered the door,
Glancing along the floor,
I saw her shoes standing side by side in rows,
Old shoes with broken toes,
Some with holes
through the soles,
Some torn,
Some barely worn.
Each shoe I knew so well,
Each had a story to tell.
Of her hopes,
Searching for new scopes,
Of her broken dreams,
Never to give up,ready with new schemes.
Of her love and strife,
Tears listened my eyes,
With courage she took each tread of life.
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 4:00 AM UTC
A twisted game of thoughts and words -
a spoil of broken dreams,
The certain uncertainty sure to come
of impulses bursting all seams.
Watching intently with growing lust -
taunting intentionally with fire,
a seductive play of raging will -
stroking the beast of desire.
Caged she is - but scopes the same -
though hunter she may be all wrong,
and the prey that she secretly hunts
is hunting her all along.
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
My mind is a
kaleidoscope of
Worries and hopes
In different colors
Various scopes-
All not seen by
The ordinary,
Openly now free,
To the load I once
Carried.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 8:04 PM UTC