"screenings" poems - Hello Poetry

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.

0

Jul 5, 2014

Jul 5, 2014 at 11:52 PM UTC

psalmiseta

The Voice Audition

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.

24

she saw things that made her malfunction she broke down to words that should've made her function. she tortured herself with plastered screenings repeated feelings not wanting to be of perceiving she was in and out of it, saw the fault line, lingered a bit. she then took it for what it was, saw what he was, realized he never was. Next she then meddled with hard hit reality. she understands to not give herself up, she gets the places it'll mess up, and all she wants to go is up. So time dwells, she wants to be over it, she wants nothing of it, only to be everything above it. she does not self harm anymore, because she is of no harm, she is just charm. he's made her realize that. he's accompanied her to that. so she thanks him for that. she will not whither, she is winter, with personality of a spitter she is summer with hints of glimmer she is now full of no more sorrow, no bitterness, or self wallow she is content, she is fluorescent. she is better than ever yet. the muggy cloud has gone and surpassed therefore leaving everything in the past. so she says, see you later, thanks for the class, hope everything works out for you in your middle pass, just remember to not let the next one pass and remember to not be an *** with that being said with wise words from this *** that you can kiss. hahaha so see you in the free world, and maybe then can we pass, hit a space migration for our integrations.

0

May 27, 2014

May 27, 2014 at 10:07 AM UTC

mira-scott

DEAR *******

she saw things that made her malfunction she broke down to words that should've made her function. she tortured herself with plastered screenings repeated feelings not wanting to be of perceiving she was in and out of it, saw the fault line, lingered a bit. she then took it for what it was, saw what he was, realized he never was. Next she then meddled with hard hit reality. she understands to not give herself up, she gets the places it'll mess up, and all she wants to go is up. So time dwells, she wants to be over it, she wants nothing of it, only to be everything above it. she does not self harm anymore, because she is of no harm, she is just charm. he's made her realize that. he's accompanied her to that. so she thanks him for that. she will not whither, she is winter, with personality of a spitter she is summer with hints of glimmer she is now full of no more sorrow, no bitterness, or self wallow she is content, she is fluorescent. she is better than ever yet. the muggy cloud has gone and surpassed therefore leaving everything in the past. so she says, see you later, thanks for the class, hope everything works out for you in your middle pass, just remember to not let the next one pass and remember to not be an *** with that being said with wise words from this *** that you can kiss. hahaha so see you in the free world, and maybe then can we pass, hit a space migration for our integrations.

28

Taking two words to describe yourself You just smiled "Annie Hall" I had only seen Manhatten but somehow Knew, knew how hard i'd fall As for my turn Well you just placed a finger on my lips And then so softly whispered Sentimental boy That was then, as for now Maybe the final credits have rolled Our picturehouse now in ruins No more screenings nor stories to be told Like that derelict Ballroom of Romance We visited at the edge of town Summer nights, flagons of cider and your Sentimental boy Recreating it's history By it's broken down and boarded up wall Slow dancing in the moonlight Stopping only to swear we'd heard a call Rising from the paupers graveyard Dancing silhouetted in the stars Ghosts of dead lovers to an old fashioned tune Sentimental boy This town now has changed so much But none so more than we Yet so often on a warm summers night By that paupers graveyard you'd still meet me Humming some half remembered melody Whilst wishing on the brightest star Please oh please, won't you just let me be.... your sentimental boy

0

Jan 23, 2017

Jan 23, 2017 at 12:57 PM UTC

david-noonan

Sentimental boy

Taking two words to describe yourself You just smiled "Annie Hall" I had only seen Manhatten but somehow Knew, knew how hard i'd fall As for my turn Well you just placed a finger on my lips And then so softly whispered Sentimental boy That was then, as for now Maybe the final credits have rolled Our picturehouse now in ruins No more screenings nor stories to be told Like that derelict Ballroom of Romance We visited at the edge of town Summer nights, flagons of cider and your Sentimental boy Recreating it's history By it's broken down and boarded up wall Slow dancing in the moonlight Stopping only to swear we'd heard a call Rising from the paupers graveyard Dancing silhouetted in the stars Ghosts of dead lovers to an old fashioned tune Sentimental boy This town now has changed so much But none so more than we Yet so often on a warm summers night By that paupers graveyard you'd still meet me Humming some half remembered melody Whilst wishing on the brightest star Please oh please, won't you just let me be.... your sentimental boy

33

you make me feel pink when all i feel are the colours that come up on brain screenings

0

Oct 10, 2017

Oct 10, 2017 at 12:59 PM UTC

6117

love's colour

you make me feel pink when all i feel are the colours that come up on brain screenings

4

to spark the story funny cards are best that reindeer's bushy ******** and his backward grin makes each of us a burly teamster Santa but best of all, the irony of ass-end-joy makes this the perfect millennial American Greeting to plunk down the Wal-Mart buck-fifty for alas, the real juice of narrative's left at the store the all-night mind spins out its setting action arch of dialogue to dénouement then lost in the well-stocked silence of stuff somewhere in those reels, maybe a better person crafts hearts breaking open to a generous life and emerges from those screenings joyful— grateful for the chance to evolve from the self-serving multitude of errors sporting masks posts gentle merry wishes and even ribald humor to that impossible God-blessed everyone

0

Jan 4, 2010

Jan 4, 2010 at 12:12 PM UTC

rose-dimatteo

Christmas Card Shopping: the Movie

to spark the story funny cards are best that reindeer's bushy ******** and his backward grin makes each of us a burly teamster Santa but best of all, the irony of ass-end-joy makes this the perfect millennial American Greeting to plunk down the Wal-Mart buck-fifty for alas, the real juice of narrative's left at the store the all-night mind spins out its setting action arch of dialogue to dénouement then lost in the well-stocked silence of stuff somewhere in those reels, maybe a better person crafts hearts breaking open to a generous life and emerges from those screenings joyful— grateful for the chance to evolve from the self-serving multitude of errors sporting masks posts gentle merry wishes and even ribald humor to that impossible God-blessed everyone

17

There sits a woman who cannot feel the rain. Trapped in thoughts that cross her to the neck and stifled tongue. A bench beneath holds up her sodden world, to push back hands on a crystal face and nail her to her seat. She cannot feel a single lachrymal word nor hear a vertical eye as they, by the familied thousands, rip her ripe in two. Perhaps it is for her ultimate benefit that these thorough roving mouths are but the muted daggers of her mind, else she might stand from the bench fall into her lap and feel. Oh, unthinkable as it may seem, to feel those manual nails in her feet and free the fingertips on hands that tear out fenestrated faces firmly held a pace away by freakish phrases. There sits a woman in the rain: all dressed in red and white and slain.

0

Feb 7, 2010

Feb 7, 2010 at 2:46 PM UTC

cody-edwards

Screenings with Oratory

There sits a woman who cannot feel the rain. Trapped in thoughts that cross her to the neck and stifled tongue. A bench beneath holds up her sodden world, to push back hands on a crystal face and nail her to her seat. She cannot feel a single lachrymal word nor hear a vertical eye as they, by the familied thousands, rip her ripe in two. Perhaps it is for her ultimate benefit that these thorough roving mouths are but the muted daggers of her mind, else she might stand from the bench fall into her lap and feel. Oh, unthinkable as it may seem, to feel those manual nails in her feet and free the fingertips on hands that tear out fenestrated faces firmly held a pace away by freakish phrases. There sits a woman in the rain: all dressed in red and white and slain.

30

lack of education -- void of understanding non-empathy meets profusion of imagery: *** swallowed by power and violence. "the victim is wrong, the victim needs to change." -------------------- child psychology, family and school lessons, coercive screenings inoculating submission one religion, only in a rife flora of symbol-shifting goodness willing prune the rest, deny the human family dialogue, beauty shared through ancient lines-- bombed nothing in the shards of modern hatred born reborn uncounted

0

Oct 17, 2015

Oct 17, 2015 at 3:17 AM UTC

vircapio-gale

**** culture

lack of education -- void of understanding non-empathy meets profusion of imagery: *** swallowed by power and violence. "the victim is wrong, the victim needs to change." -------------------- child psychology, family and school lessons, coercive screenings inoculating submission one religion, only in a rife flora of symbol-shifting goodness willing prune the rest, deny the human family dialogue, beauty shared through ancient lines-- bombed nothing in the shards of modern hatred born reborn uncounted

12

You never shun a losing Fjord Complete in Complexion the wings spread condiments Spicy, Fancy, Crass, abstract, **** Me! I fathom Ecstasy she was a red-dressed lady a triple stack with no increase, a flip flop with no feet a detail is in the deveiled screenings x-rays why oh why is it beyond zebra the white out chugging contest versus the ink quills blotter confess the clock strikes one-one and i'll be waking with the rest of the caffience junkyard laden intestines pushing up green paper weights crying out for I dent these at the top of my lungs until screech my larynx without break pads on my stolen blue bicycle hiking with a false sense of love taxed at cents to the dollar, bills fold and languish close to the pavement later and later I relish of dill pickles thanking Bob as his savior, I'll leave it for the rest of the heaving centurions, the pieces of these ones, I shatter and rattle the matted fish fabric Disaster

0

Oct 6, 2014

Oct 6, 2014 at 8:40 PM UTC

sean-cason

(at work)

You never shun a losing Fjord Complete in Complexion the wings spread condiments Spicy, Fancy, Crass, abstract, **** Me! I fathom Ecstasy she was a red-dressed lady a triple stack with no increase, a flip flop with no feet a detail is in the deveiled screenings x-rays why oh why is it beyond zebra the white out chugging contest versus the ink quills blotter confess the clock strikes one-one and i'll be waking with the rest of the caffience junkyard laden intestines pushing up green paper weights crying out for I dent these at the top of my lungs until screech my larynx without break pads on my stolen blue bicycle hiking with a false sense of love taxed at cents to the dollar, bills fold and languish close to the pavement later and later I relish of dill pickles thanking Bob as his savior, I'll leave it for the rest of the heaving centurions, the pieces of these ones, I shatter and rattle the matted fish fabric Disaster

4

Bull headed stubborn, never conquered, he... My Father. A hearty laugh, with anger never far away; A choking voice; emotions had their way With him, and when he sang alone, Heading for the barn, he sang Handel So we heard him clear in every valley. When only grass and leaves were "Green," He saved everything he thought might be of use: Red tape from old banana sales, ("Never know when tape will come in handy!") Bagging string wrapped on a stick, ("You can't have enough string!") Rusty wire in spools from some old fence, ("Carry some with you for emergencies.") Dirtied engine oil in metal barrels, (To soak wood posts and make them last), Scrap iron by the ton, ("Boys, weld these into fences!") Semi loads of **** seed screenings, ("Cheap and adds protein to the feed!" ) Even burned out light bulbs... (He never gave me a good reason; One bulb's enough to **** a sock.) "Never know when this may come in handy!" His constant motto. A complicated man I never could unravel, Honest to an inch, sometimes, yet shrewd to miser-dom, Then crafty in some deal that left me blushing, Only to turn around and sacrifice to see a neighbor thrive. Drove sad old cars no one would want, And made us work for most things that we sought, Then gave such gifts to others As would stun my mind to thought. I have him by a hundred pounds, Am taller by a head, But deep inside, I am convinced I'll never measure up in height or depth. I'm not sure that I want to.

0

Mar 5, 2015

Mar 5, 2015 at 8:34 PM UTC

don-bouchard

Hard Man to Cipher

Bull headed stubborn, never conquered, he... My Father. A hearty laugh, with anger never far away; A choking voice; emotions had their way With him, and when he sang alone, Heading for the barn, he sang Handel So we heard him clear in every valley. When only grass and leaves were "Green," He saved everything he thought might be of use: Red tape from old banana sales, ("Never know when tape will come in handy!") Bagging string wrapped on a stick, ("You can't have enough string!") Rusty wire in spools from some old fence, ("Carry some with you for emergencies.") Dirtied engine oil in metal barrels, (To soak wood posts and make them last), Scrap iron by the ton, ("Boys, weld these into fences!") Semi loads of **** seed screenings, ("Cheap and adds protein to the feed!" ) Even burned out light bulbs... (He never gave me a good reason; One bulb's enough to **** a sock.) "Never know when this may come in handy!" His constant motto. A complicated man I never could unravel, Honest to an inch, sometimes, yet shrewd to miser-dom, Then crafty in some deal that left me blushing, Only to turn around and sacrifice to see a neighbor thrive. Drove sad old cars no one would want, And made us work for most things that we sought, Then gave such gifts to others As would stun my mind to thought. I have him by a hundred pounds, Am taller by a head, But deep inside, I am convinced I'll never measure up in height or depth. I'm not sure that I want to.

39

. conscience of gold never stopped me from wrapping my heart up in the darkest of things. don't go, tread softly on this newly broken soil. Kiss your palms once each before you touch anything that resides here. Leave your twisted metal heart at the door, it won't pass the screenings. I want to know what summer tastes like I want to know how the colors rest on your tastebuds and dissolve into your bloodstream, warm and welcoming. Brush the dust off old phrases turn them over in this new light to see how they fit. Shelf them, along with iron fists and barbed wire. We've no need of such weapons in this place.

0

May 9, 2018

May 9, 2018 at 10:25 PM UTC

khanslik

"soft" was never a part of your vocabulary

. conscience of gold never stopped me from wrapping my heart up in the darkest of things. don't go, tread softly on this newly broken soil. Kiss your palms once each before you touch anything that resides here. Leave your twisted metal heart at the door, it won't pass the screenings. I want to know what summer tastes like I want to know how the colors rest on your tastebuds and dissolve into your bloodstream, warm and welcoming. Brush the dust off old phrases turn them over in this new light to see how they fit. Shelf them, along with iron fists and barbed wire. We've no need of such weapons in this place.

18

“We should like Nature to go no further; we should like it to be finite, like our mind; but this is to ignore the greatness and majesty of the Author of things.” —Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, 1715 <> **for my dear friends who amply supply pictures of the infinity of nature daily** <> the comfort food of your living-loving-eyeshot screenings of moments preservations of the delicate and the roughened, the mystical and magical of our creative globe’s ad and mis ventures, oft far from the paths of human ruination trafficking these photos the first of the day, signaling white smoke rising or the full fledged regular milky insertion photographic into the mine daily awakening of the *purpled majesty of the world when ******* pleasure of first coffees of life’s days* and how it pleases me, that there is no conceptual conceivable, that there will not be an finishing enthralling, a last never-before-witnessed visionary submission without a never finite ending to this infinite processional! thus no need to say with them ordinary wordy pleas of/to: “keep them coming,” for by your read acknowledgement of this here poem, you have cosigned this contractual o b l i g a t i o n and I say an ecstatic Thank You

0

Nov 17, 2024

Nov 17, 2024 at 7:48 AM UTC

nat-lipstadt

The Infinite Nature of Nature

“We should like Nature to go no further; we should like it to be finite, like our mind; but this is to ignore the greatness and majesty of the Author of things.” —Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, 1715 <> **for my dear friends who amply supply pictures of the infinity of nature daily** <> the comfort food of your living-loving-eyeshot screenings of moments preservations of the delicate and the roughened, the mystical and magical of our creative globe’s ad and mis ventures, oft far from the paths of human ruination trafficking these photos the first of the day, signaling white smoke rising or the full fledged regular milky insertion photographic into the mine daily awakening of the *purpled majesty of the world when ******* pleasure of first coffees of life’s days* and how it pleases me, that there is no conceptual conceivable, that there will not be an finishing enthralling, a last never-before-witnessed visionary submission without a never finite ending to this infinite processional! thus no need to say with them ordinary wordy pleas of/to: “keep them coming,” for by your read acknowledgement of this here poem, you have cosigned this contractual o b l i g a t i o n and I say an ecstatic Thank You

47

fear...... gnawing at me at night, as i wake long before light. why?! what is there to fear? wandering through life, watching fear at every turn. small wonder people are so timid, so cynical, so angry, so afraid. does a gun chase it away? do all the locks and screenings keep it at bay? loud voices, TV, internet print, radio only scream out.. BE AFRAID schools locked up tight... can you keep fear out? schooling an entire generation in paranoia & visceral fear oh how welcome the drugs become. bandaids for imaginary monsters and goblins and immigrants. don't look in. why, believe all the spin. make yourself ill worrying & hurrying. running and hiding. nothing can ever save you, nothing can ever protect you, but your own mind, your very own perspective. give into the fear monger ers, might as well give up the fight. what sort of life it is to live with fear gnawing at your gut and heart, every night and every day?

0

Feb 18, 2016

Feb 18, 2016 at 3:29 PM UTC

amiee

fear

fear...... gnawing at me at night, as i wake long before light. why?! what is there to fear? wandering through life, watching fear at every turn. small wonder people are so timid, so cynical, so angry, so afraid. does a gun chase it away? do all the locks and screenings keep it at bay? loud voices, TV, internet print, radio only scream out.. BE AFRAID schools locked up tight... can you keep fear out? schooling an entire generation in paranoia & visceral fear oh how welcome the drugs become. bandaids for imaginary monsters and goblins and immigrants. don't look in. why, believe all the spin. make yourself ill worrying & hurrying. running and hiding. nothing can ever save you, nothing can ever protect you, but your own mind, your very own perspective. give into the fear monger ers, might as well give up the fight. what sort of life it is to live with fear gnawing at your gut and heart, every night and every day?

69

Wreathes around my neck are forming, Sky is storming, This noose is dragging me to the forest, Raimi’s curse mark, Those dark words spoke, Those dark lies, We have our eyes held open and stare at a world gagging on it’s sick, So, obsessed with conflict, So (insert)phobic, We stir the hatred, This broth is rancid, Go vote for tory, Best not help people, You ******* lefty, Don’t’ be a ***** Not very manly, What happened to manly? In my time we were all tougher, And sure, we suffered but that’s how the world was, Except now we see it, The dam is breaking, The lies of a world with no truths are so ******* flaky, Pawns in chess, Players of a game, Working onwards to our graves, Cultural shift now, Bend your perception, Money should not motivate, It’s a pit of snakes solidifying you into a mindless rock so easily shocked, Under the thumb and afraid of change, Become a zombie, I see the future, We are either flying or dying, Either way this cacophony is catching up to us, Do we play the game or change the game? Do we build up instead of tear down? A support system in place of a war system, Why are we so sure of the systematic failure of empathy? What are you doing? Working 5 days a week for a happy 2? Is your enjoyment being monetised? Is the mind loss of alcohol your saving grace at weekends? Does losing yourself relieve your stress? Be more creative, We’re so close to progressing, Life should be more play than work but right now Jack is a very dull boy, ****** over by the guy boy, Crash land from the sky boy, I see your lies boy, Politics is the longest running reality show and just as meaningless, Are you seeing this? Are you happy with this? Do you realise how the words we see are manipulated? How these words we see manipulate the words we say? Left or right, Still goes alright, And words can’t fight, But we will fight over them, That was an empty statement, But where even is meaning? These are all just screenings and tests, Yet we’re all just screaming at best, Be pure, Be vigilant, Behave, Be lewd, And lax, Destroy, Every system, Every rule, Smash like mouth, Smashed like your relieving weekends, **** your idols, Become your idol, Stop sitting back idle.

0

Nov 14, 2018

Nov 14, 2018 at 4:52 PM UTC

olliezero

**** your idols

Wreathes around my neck are forming, Sky is storming, This noose is dragging me to the forest, Raimi’s curse mark, Those dark words spoke, Those dark lies, We have our eyes held open and stare at a world gagging on it’s sick, So, obsessed with conflict, So (insert)phobic, We stir the hatred, This broth is rancid, Go vote for tory, Best not help people, You ******* lefty, Don’t’ be a ***** Not very manly, What happened to manly? In my time we were all tougher, And sure, we suffered but that’s how the world was, Except now we see it, The dam is breaking, The lies of a world with no truths are so ******* flaky, Pawns in chess, Players of a game, Working onwards to our graves, Cultural shift now, Bend your perception, Money should not motivate, It’s a pit of snakes solidifying you into a mindless rock so easily shocked, Under the thumb and afraid of change, Become a zombie, I see the future, We are either flying or dying, Either way this cacophony is catching up to us, Do we play the game or change the game? Do we build up instead of tear down? A support system in place of a war system, Why are we so sure of the systematic failure of empathy? What are you doing? Working 5 days a week for a happy 2? Is your enjoyment being monetised? Is the mind loss of alcohol your saving grace at weekends? Does losing yourself relieve your stress? Be more creative, We’re so close to progressing, Life should be more play than work but right now Jack is a very dull boy, ****** over by the guy boy, Crash land from the sky boy, I see your lies boy, Politics is the longest running reality show and just as meaningless, Are you seeing this? Are you happy with this? Do you realise how the words we see are manipulated? How these words we see manipulate the words we say? Left or right, Still goes alright, And words can’t fight, But we will fight over them, That was an empty statement, But where even is meaning? These are all just screenings and tests, Yet we’re all just screaming at best, Be pure, Be vigilant, Behave, Be lewd, And lax, Destroy, Every system, Every rule, Smash like mouth, Smashed like your relieving weekends, **** your idols, Become your idol, Stop sitting back idle.

75