"screening" poems
: 'Its Holiday season'
Here are lists of things you need teach your child
at early age.
.
1: Warn your girl child never to sit on anyone's
laps no matter the situation including uncles.
.
2: Avoid getting dressed in front of your child
once ***** is 2years old.
Learn to excuse yourself.
.
3: If you have to hire a house-help, please kindly
take them for *** screening to determine their
*** status, properly interview them and make up
your mind to
treat them well.
.
4: Never allow any adult refer to your new born
as 'my wife' or 'my husband'.
.
5: Never tempt your husband with your younger
sister. (Else he'd say its her's and the devil's
fault)
.
6: Whenever your child goes out to play with
friends, make sure you look for a way to find out
what kind of play they played
together because young people now sexually
abuse themselves.
.
7: Never force your child to visit any adult he or
she is not comfortable with and also be
observant if your child becomes too fond of a
particular adult.
.
8: Once a very lively child suddenly becomes
withdrawn you might need to patiently ask alot of
questions from your child. If you don't teach your
children
about *** the society will teach them the wrong
values.
.
9: It is always advisable you go through any new
Material like cartoons you just bought for them
before they start seeing it, you may Blue Movie
themselves.
.
10: Teach your 3 year old how to wash their
private parts properly and warn them never to
allow anyone touch those areas and that includes
you (remember, charity begins at home and with
you)
11: Once your child complains about a particular
person, don't keep quiet about it Take up the
case and show them you can
defend them always.
.
Then make sure they embraces God.
The bible said 'Train up a child in the way he
should go, And when he is old he will not depart
from it.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 7:00 AM UTC
If we were the kind of friends who unironically
raised our glasses in toasts,
I would give one to the generation too comforted by the ease
of a honeybee in the plaintively nonexistent mind
of a tulip
To the generation, or at least its subset
that wrongly feels representative, who stumble drunkenly
or maybe just tiredly out of tents
to **** in the view of their friends, who are still at the fire
because the tent was too cold
To those who did raise their glasses in a toast
on New Year’s Eve at what felt, with the ball drop
not screening in luddite protest, enough like midnight.
Beginning with “dear friends” and a couple laughs;
concluding with “now let’s get ****** up” and
a couple more
To those who proceeded
as directed, clinking their shot-glasses
and swigging them back. If only because
they were not tulips.
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
Volunteers, PSGs, Staffs
Executive Directors
And higher task allocators.
People pass by
Mic's were off
Facade was the banner of hope.
Voices all over the provinces
All with the same goal
Rightly urged with own reasons.
Two faces were present
Painted with grimace
Or with broaden smiles.
*The screening was stern and severe
Camera rolls on with Level 2
"Next," "Give me another song"
The voice sounds no roughs of plead
A voice pushing rivals
To their very own frontiers
I was startled
So this is how they do it
Selection, great screenings
There're expectators
There're hope hurtles
Dreams will sooner be pulled of.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 11:52 PM UTC
Can you hear me?
Are you open?
It’s only a cup of water
I can take, that’s all
that would fit on my hand.
The heaven up above us
is hearty, big enough to drip
a generous drop for free.
Drink it, it isn’t salty is sweet, sweet sea!
Heaven is on the wings of the clouds,
flying free for anyone to see.
Swear to God one is keeping an open eye
But is unseen in broad daylight!
Nothing did I hide,
though I said it time and again.
The time wouldn’t stop.
It never did screening is on.
As if it says, “How can you tell
You can’t see yourself?”
The sky is open down the horizon
Yet one can’t be seen
Because someone is not showing.
What is behind is me.
The same is true for you.
One can’t see one’s self
through the other
The discovery is made together!
The show is destined for a duo.
.
That one is her mirror
Through the very one
One matchless nature see
Who is she?
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 11:20 PM UTC
Muse the Bobbie, Learned and Scrolling Mentor
For screening this Curtain to show our Task
Basic Words you exhume; Trust, a favour
Later allow us with some Sticks to bask
It takes much swallow to go back to School
And strip us bare with Her Majesty's Words
This how you Speak - With a Rod and a Fool
But then, who cares? Forgans are for the Birds
Now all it takes to supple your behalf
Modelled by the Mad Agent done and pleased
We empty our Fillers; and bid Avast!
Upon Graduation your Skills we take heed.
Thank you so much again, Mentor availed
Success is Reward; Laziness is Failed.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC
it started with a jaw
twitch vibrating ear
to lip side to side up
and down like I was a horse
shaking off a fly I
saw her legs spread
scissors in hand
as her head popped
and popped
and
popped
like a jack-in-the-box film
screening 3 inches in front
of my eyes until I hid
in a barrel and kept on
driving
north to wherever
lights off and
hooting like a madman
to visions of ariana grande
standing
out in the snow with a purple
beanie and frozen mittens
waiting for me to pull up
the driveway tumble out
the car door and say
you were right
so she can pour hot chocolate
on my face and walk back
inside to stoke the dying
fire
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 1:05 PM UTC
Tommorrow's just a day away
That's what we tell ourselves to push through another 24
But does tomorrow ever come ?
I mean today becomes yesterday
And in a way we gain a new today
But tomorrow constantly becomes a prize that noone has ever won
It's only today's screening
I wanna see the day
When tommorow's so easy to obtain
That these temporary forevers, that we call "todays", somehow explain meaning
Meaning meaning the reason that we're here
I mean I know your scared
Aye I'm scared too
But we can't stay parked in this place when it's time to shift into gear
Cuz a temporary forever is just that
And when it starts to fade, everything just seems black
Until you see that light
That's all white for some reason
And you've left yourself behind
And you know there's no turning back
Your forever has ended
How you end it is your business
I just pray that you didn't blend in
Because then your forever turns into one like another million
But a million forevers becomes infinity
So your forever like the rest
And this forever is permanent
Because a stopping infinity doesn't exist
So now your forever was wasted because tomorrow was never reached for
And its sad because you still think
That the only thing between you was that last 24
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 10:11 AM UTC
Clear your mind
Passion may look your fascination
But believe in your gratification
And if it is what you look upto perfection
Do give it your certification
Clear your mind
Orb may contain your lee
People may look lovely
But maybe its not really
There is always may be misapprehension
Clear your mind
Maybe things attract you completely
And you find them never leaving
And get into it without screening
But heartthrobing goes heartbreaking
Clear your mind
Nothing's gonna last forever
Except your beliefs and hardwork
So here is a thing to hard think
Clear Your Mind
—A.A.
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 5:35 PM UTC
There’s a time and season for every reason
no cookie bakes itself
cherries don’t burst on their own
cherries don’t burst ************
a bottle doesn’t empty itself to full/fill
breaking clocks is a wonderful way to **** time
ironic glory hole of blood and glass
running out of test tubes, the ***** too tight
**** reason!
INVEST!
Admiration is the state furthest away from understanding
pawns don’t need details
******** with teeth make ******** meaningful
smashing the cow softens it, …digest it well
meaning is derived from screening STD g string
of a starry eyed ******** that drowns in a sea of ******
obtuse and absolute are the only submissions
failure to comprehend results in ***********
cuckolds worth….
IMPROVE!
Lexicon laxative
this antipathy won’t last
stimulate thinking with cankerous drinking
***** ***** need no season or reason
to drown ****** who never show
the tears of heaven that understood
misled admiration and adolescent aberration
that silently candle deplorable fornication
time stays unchanged
counting doesn’t prove progress in this game
falling short… half beat hesitation
ITERATE!
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 5:10 AM UTC
his hobbies include
invisible girls
bubble wrapped
shielding their eyes from the sun
up the side of his mountain
holding fast to the cable
and the eventual terror of drawing
paper moons
framed a bit too
insular
binocular
funicular
vermicular
these out of sightlines
opaque and cobwebbed
screening off
his ***** little secrets
Jun 29, 2021
Jun 29, 2021 at 11:45 AM UTC
I took my ****** sister Marigold to the cinema,
she had asked specifically and eventually
(she doesn't speak a lot on account of her awful stammer
and amazing cleft palate which has won prizes)
so I knew that this was something she really wanted,
and I teased for her bad taste
when she told me that she wanted to see
"Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Charlie
and the Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Chocolate Factory".
It was a Saturday evening and the local picture house
was showing a re-run of the classic starring Gene Wilder
as the enigmatically stylish ***** Wonka,
and not that steaming great pictorial **** served up by Tim Burton
and I knew that town would be busy with oiks
so as a treat I dressed her up better than usual,
and even gave her a hosedown to get rid of the poopy pong.
She had stopped crying by the time the feature started
and I think the Ooompa Loompa costume grew on her
but that maybe the orange paint was a bit of a bad idea
as people had stared as it was Day-Glo and she stood out
like a bulldog's ******* but I stand by my decision
to dye her hair green, it had taken thought and planning;
it was meant to add to her excitement of the day,
so I meant well, even if I was ineffectual in the end.
I sat her on my lap in the picture house
but still paid for two seats but I do get one ticket half price
though because of her disabilities, so it wasn't all bad,
every cloud and all that, you know what I mean?
She tends to get a little down every now and then
but a £1 cinema ticket partly makes up for being born legless.
I knew from past experience that the cinema staff
prefer me to carry my stunted sis rather than wheeling her in
(I do recall that the time I taped her to her skateboard
proved somewhat a disaster - but really, the fat usher
had a torch and should have watched her step
or otherwise she wouldn't have bust her neck).
The Ooompa Loompa costume allowed Marigold
to amuse herself during the screening
(as there were no leggings to the costume).
She barely noticed when the fat little hero
got blown up on screen except to dribble "chocolate"
from her own little chocolate factory.
It was, all in all, quite an eventful outing
and one I might consider repeating but
probably in a different cinema next time,
mainly because we got banned for life
when the manager saw the condition of the seat.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 8:06 AM UTC
You piece of worthless ****
Hitting and motorcyclist a running away
Today and every hereafter, altered
Not my faltered driving
But your careless careening
Not screening the front of your bumper
That thump heard around my brains
Left to die
**** you.
**** your existence.
**** your abandonment.
**** and positive luck that may EVER cross YOUR path...
The way you took my path away.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 2:51 AM UTC
They hail me as one living,
But don’t they know
That I have died of late years,
Untombed although?
I am but a shape that stands here,
A pulseless mould,
A pale past picture, screening
Ashes gone cold.
Not at a minute’s warning,
Not in a loud hour,
For me ceased Time’s enchantments
In hall and bower.
There was no tragic transit,
No catch of breath,
When silent seasons inched me
On to this death …
—A Troubadour-youth I rambled
With Life for lyre,
The beats of being raging
In me like fire.
But when I practised eyeing
The goal of men,
It iced me, and I perished
A little then.
When passed my friend, my kinsfolk,
Through the Last Door,
And left me standing bleakly,
I died yet more;
And when my Love’s heart kindled
In hate of me,
Wherefore I knew not, died I
One more degree.
And if when I died fully
I cannot say,
And changed into the corpse-thing
I am to-day,
Yet is it that, though whiling
The time somehow
In walking, talking, smiling,
I live not now.
3.1k
Like an abandoned creek bed
Hosting a river for a day
Or a desert sky
Screening a rain storm matinee
A parent will wait
No matter time passing
With a heart that remembers how
When our children need us to be strong
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 9:12 AM UTC
Instead of foraging around making connections
with cables and wireless systems that
bluetooth and sync their way
into our pocket technologies
and portable screens
(tablets of which we self-prescribe
and regulate through overdose
and comatose keenings of stillness
and waking dreams)
why, instead
don’t we fool around
making connections
with others of like mind and brainwaves
instead of radiowaves and
the mastered minds of computer waves
and lift an arm and
really wave
beyond our windows to
real people
in real time
rather than peeping
like a holographic Tom through
tabs and browsing windows,
multi-tasking time in a state of mime
like it’s about to expire
(like the wireless wires will break)
and all that we’ll have is
all we can physically take
from this moment awake we call ‘life’
– a mistake.
What else is left now
in this vegetative
one man one woman state
where we live to close our eyes
and shut our minds and wait for
the modem-router to re-dial and
get our avatar back online and
our friends back into our
multi-dimensional realer-than-time
time?
Pseudonyms solving identity changes
emerge without birth
with designer non-faces, as
now that we no longer need imperfection
or meaning or privacy
or even perception
we alter ourselves to impress our connections
with whom we connect without really connecting
by hiding as one almost nearing detection
and tip-toeing straight past
concern or reflection
(invisible firewalls at our protection)
our own walls around us
with keys we can capslock,
screening ourselves from unfriended friends,
and playfully sated by charm and ‘pretends’
that will mean next to nothing
when fantasy ends.
Where ARE the connections we make
in this digital age
that we rarely turn off since
the internet craze has become a new God
that we dial to be saved
as we sacrifice friends we once made
face to face
with those we are longing to meet
as we race across networks
with hunger and haste and
with spambots and data and viruses made
to detect and infect
and reject, just for starters,
and that’s not to mention
the ads and the logins and
passwords that lock us
from somewhere far yonder
that doesn’t exist
as we grow ever fonder
of pics and of pixels and
texts of expression
– the reality of which
we could lose in a second.
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
It happened early one morning.
It happened like it always does,
times 3.
Strapped, armed, holding hands
what every loving mother
shouldn't do.
Word of it traveled
like the winter flu,
by noon everybody had heard
of maniacal faithers
who took home her children
lighting up fireworks.
The sun blazed dazedly
evaporating 3 crosses,
not quite melting the ice.
Until it reached my porch step,
it were but distant voices.
now it's here
and real. like it always is of course
but now it's closer than ever
bursting at my door.
Sliced up like a juicy tomato
his screams are muffled by
a screen screening bright information
into the heads of mouths
who offer surreal commentary
disguised as jokes.
We're terrified.
We're hypochondriacs fearing
contamination of a rampant
plague.
A plague we've never seen before.
Our ****** eyes.
So many have already
been ***** by fate.
Faith in fatherly beards
granting wishes to
obedient children
who go tarnishing other fathers' gardens.
What an absurd world
where IS is ice that
cannot melt.
What an absurd world
where children weep
at mothers' debt.
What an absurd world
where faithful supremity
reigns unchecked.
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 10:07 AM UTC
✓My favorite weapon
✓Bikini ski boat
✓Fluorescent sand
✓Her eyes immaculate
✓Keys to the prophet's house
✓Emotional screening device
✓1 cup of sun, 3 teaspoons of rain
✓Third world treasure map & saxophone
✓Alternate flightpaths
✓Extra parachute
✓Mediocre Shakespeare
✓Poison pen letters
✓Getaway car & escape route
✓Ladies in waiting (in lingerie)
✓Subterranean lips
✓A pinch of film noir
✓Night vision
✓Antarctic scenarios
✓Fountain of remembrance
✓Policy of containment
✓Silhouette machine
✓Water wings
✓Pillow
Mar 14, 2025
Mar 14, 2025 at 10:12 AM UTC
i was watching batman (1989) and batman returns (1992)
today, and i couldn't stop layering over birdman (2015)
over both films, it was such a comedy, you knew
that it wasn't a serious engagement
in the role, i just kept picturing
the internal monologue -
the action scenes were already
a gimmick when in the birdman
the explosions start with the critique
of what people actually like to see -
and that critique that the joker
is no more a weird'o than batman
dressed in black leather / spandex -
i just wish heath ledger took a break
from acting, and they did the same
sort of film about the actor behind
the joker, but how would they internalise
the essence of the role: the laughter...
internalising a husky voice can be easily
done when the actor in a different role
can talk easily and speedily without that
haunting husky role of the original part...
but the laughter? it would never work,
which is why jack warned heath
about playing the role... 'son, beware
the laughter.' still, what an enjoyable re-watch,
putting over the birdman nostalgia
over the seriousness of the acting in the
originals, you can actually imagine him
going for a coffee break and taking a ****
when the original screening took place,
the whole: back to reality - it really amplified
the films in a quirky way;
and i still think the joker is the only
doppelgänger that can't be tamed: i'm guessing
because of coulrophobia -
and i could still see remnants of this mythical
doppelgänger on heath in the imaginarium
of dr. parnassus... the clowns are onto you,
you can't steal one of them from
the jammed mini or volkswagen beetle with 20 of them in it,
plus the crying clown, everyone's heard of that
one, they mime laughter, this vocalised doppelgänger
of a clown is cursed -
because unlike actual mimes they don't surd
bewilderment being stuck in a box, or touching
a brick wall obstacle... they surd laughter,
and they share it among themselves in a circus,
vocalising that surd is a curse,
since vocalising an actual mime leaves you
without the actual abstractions,
and from what i heard, brick walls are silent
like graves, unless of course you punch one
or smash a car into one.
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 4:41 PM UTC
One Rose for you Madame
the most beautiful woman in the world.
My Story of love inspired from
" the Romeo and Juliet screening to the pink rose
Flattered in your Eyes, your voice
a memorial day of 24 hours
delivered your birthday night
Proposing you by this Rose to
promise you to live for the whole life & to shelter you in
my heart to define the Color of love
Fragrances around, the world you tuner of blooming night
Gifting you a secret beauty
Crafting up on the toes, folding hand behinds
Taking one hand forward with, Beautiful Rose to say,
will you marry me?...
Answer : This story of love will never end until the Rose speaks your heart
voice to accept my proposal for the love life that's "yes".
-Chirayu!..
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 5:28 AM UTC
Even in certain circles in certain minds
in certain frames at certain times
We can't know what's true
And misconstrue can ring like
Miss you too
Self titles
Reign demeaning
And a finished product
Watched like a B-Rated pre-screening
Fed my gray matter
But the rest of me is depleting
Craig Morgan's playing baseball
Elliot Smith in the background screaming
Drinking OJ, it's how the Kardashians got there money,
Nothing good even came from the cover, trust me it didn't.
"She's in your hands now
Treat her like a Princess
You gotta respect her mind and her body"
"Welcome to Shaboom Shaboom"
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 2:04 AM UTC
*quiet now
no noise
sshhh
shhh now*
1.
kidnapped
out the blue
pretty blue-eyed waif
with bangs
screening her
fear
2.
today is the day
she learns of devotion
he will teach her
slowly
they have time
away
in the woods
far from everyone
nothing but sylvan moves for company
a cabin in the mountains
no easy access
but by trail
3.
how they learn of each other...
until law enforcement
decides to pay a visit
runaway man
has to hide
yet
loses no love
from the hostage
who protects
in the end
his demands are almost none
the ransom
merely:
to be left alone
*shhh
quiet now
they can't hear us
hush, baby
don't you cry now*
S T, 5 July 2013
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 12:30 PM UTC
The butterfly flutters in the skies
looking for a mere complication
to a place where the sun smiles
below the daily mediocre waves
where all tunes same frequency
the multitude parades in lines
sinking in unproven priced lies
moving all along in a rollercoaster
In upward current the levelled high
In downward demotion the trips
As we drool on the bonded chains
In upheaval of lame indecisions
Casting all there is and there is not
Must we sacrifice all we have got
The body that chooses to give and live
A soul in forests waiting to soar
A mind carrying more than it bears
On this holy ground that sink below
where faith is grass that withers
and hope is a rainbow that fades
The blooded paths painted in red
oozing confusion and utter misery
Shall we wait for the embellished heroes?
To teach us how to be and survive
Police bark and robots deployed to shoot
Civilians protest on injustice and inequality
we all beaker and peck the sainted patch
Humanity is our freedom and grace
a tapestry blended by colours and cultures
a oneness painted and screening liberty
The authentic texture of raw love and truth
tainted by patriotism and indocrination
Networks channel and harvest poor yields
whilst we beaker with heated controversies
I, you, we all breath the same scented air
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 3:41 PM UTC
In house made warm letters run,
Bright poems let, in winter sun—
The dreams of day a lively school,
As songbirds gleam at vernal pools,
Apparitions of youth— fly in and go,
A love blew held in wings, undertow,
Little things now steeping with peace,
Cloudy thoughts set aflame, released,
A lost woman revisioned— unknown,
Is conjured, screening real as a poem.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC
From a distance she seems normal
But from closer you can see
That she has a little something
Like her mind inside is free
You can see that she is dreaming
Fantasizing something great
And for a moment it almost seems
Her dreams are lifting up the weight
All those cares and all those worries
That she like everybody has
Are fading for a tiny moment
Like she hurts a little less
You take a step towards her
Cause you feel a bit amazed
And as you watch her very carefully
Her mind is screening on her face
For it’s in her eyes that you find galaxies
And stars just shining all around
Thousands of beautiful new colors
Waiting for her to be found
At first you think this girl is crazy
Totally lost her good old sense
But when you think about it better
You find you’re putting up a fence
Although her mind’s not realistic
And she dreams bigger than could ever be
You realize without this girl
You would’ve never dreamed as if
you’re free.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
We must celebrate the birth of the Lord,
Not the gift of a toy sword.
That's Christmas's true meaning,
Not a commercial screening.
I;m sure Santa Claus would agree;
He works for God, you see.
Saint Nicholas is his real name;
May our celebration and his be the same!
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 1:14 AM UTC