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there is a seperation

a pain of seperation

such as a seperation

that only lovers specialise in

where the prevention of thought

is like a fortress overrun

where trampling terrains of concern

stampede upon the praire of the mind

transforming it into a soft savanna

of wating engagements

that murmer with comforing enchantments

lays upon such pain of seperation

as that of a perforated scar

seared across the heart

bringing tickles of soft warm tears

to the cheeks

the happist time becomes

a chasm only conquerd

by that gulping unification

of embrace

where soft burning lips

meet in that unknown

but express language

of clasped reunion

it is that pain, that awful pain

that only lovers know
Birdy Feb 2016
Its sad to say that my only inspiration
is anxiety caused by seperation
which is basically admitting
that you are my only inspiration
My poems **** but so do you
The critical reviews are in.  It looks as though Socialist Heroes will not become a Broadway play.  The following comments concerning the desirability of socialism were gleaned from the Facebook page of the National Liberty Federation.  Group members indicate a resounding thumbs down on the idea of socialism.  

Popular comments from the Facebook group include:
Kool aid drinking
Semper Fi
Following Gunny to Hell and Back
Lots of Good Gunnys out there
Obama’s socialism must be stopped
I’d rather die than live under communism
Join the Infidel Brotherhood
Ted Cruz, just love that guy
Stock Up on Guns and Bullets
Greece invented democracy and they haven't used it for years
Jesus is coming to destroy the Anti-Christ
there are a lot of ******* out there posing as americans

The passionate posts and learned comments from the Facebook group members of the The National Liberty Federation follow in all its grammatical and misspelled glory.  All comments from the public group are posted verbatim….

(Editorial Note: The link to the Infidel Brotherhood was redacted.  The Editor wants no role in promoting neo-fascist vitriol. )

Thanks!


National Liberty Federation
Like This Page · 11 hours ago
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Top Comments
4,560 people like this.
2,627 shares

Eddie *******Where's MY koolaid!
Like · Reply · 9 hours ago

Charles Noftsker Semper Fi!!!!!!!!!
Like · Reply · 175 · 11 hours ago via mobile

Justin P. Emery Semper Fi, my Brother
Like · 13 · 11 hours ago

National Liberty Federation Semper Fi!!! 0311 here
Like · 9 · 11 hours ago

Justin P. Emery 3521 listed... but did whatever the hell my Gunny told me to do lol
Like · 5 · 10 hours ago

National Liberty Federation there are a lot of good gunny's out there.
Like · 2 · 10 hours ago

Justin P. Emery Yeah... Gunny's you'll follow through Hell and back
Like · 2 · 10 hours ago

Kathy Stephens Grant We have our future generations to think about!
Like · Reply · 172 · 11 hours ago
7 Replies · about an hour ago

Clint ****** I am on the right side which is I am an American and I do not want obamas socialism
Like · Reply · 11 · 11 hours ago

Joyce Tidwell Burns Backing Americans into a corner is never a good idea. Bad thing is both sides are ready and if this crap starts its gonna be very very bad...
Like · Reply · 9 · 11 hours ago via mobile

Jim Blackwell I may be getting to old to fight but I still shoot straight. Just set me on a bucket behind a bush on a hill and I will just pick them off one at a time until I get all of them or they get me. I would rather die free than to live under communism.
Like · Reply · 14 · 10 hours ago

William Slingo I"m with ya Jim. I'm too old and crippled to be a soldier but I never planned on dying alone if ya know what I mean........
Like · 1 · 8 hours ago

Susannah Fedders I'm 60yr.old female with 4 Grand Son's I'm ready to do what is necessary to take our country back,for my Grandchildren.
Like · Reply · 10 · 11 hours ago

Robert Haller To coin a phrase, I regret I only have one life to give to my country. I will give all that I have and until my last breath to defend this country. Semper Fi.
Like · Reply · 4 · 10 hours ago · Edited

Michael Knorr even some civilians will fight that!
Like · Reply · 3 · 11 hours ago

Adam Capi This generation of young voters and first time voters Proves americans are Plain Stupid
Like · Reply · 4 · 11 hours ago

Andrea Gardner Ahhhhhh....Social Security? How about we get past the labels and just do what's right for the people instead of the rich Plutocrats who have managed to take over our Government. Our Politicians are nothing more than prostitutes sold to the highest bidder.
Like · Reply · 7 · 5 hours ago via mobile

Alice Shinn I may be old, 67 years young. I am disgusted with our country. I know that I am not alone. My friends and family cannot believe what our congress has let laws pass, that are not equal under the law..
Like · Reply · 2 · 9 hours ago

Savi Braun Then get it back!!!
Like · Reply · 2 · 11 hours ago

Leslee C. Carles you can help too!
Like · 10 hours ago

Diana McGowan Nelson I totally cannot understand how many people don't see what this man in doing. By the time they open their eyes, it will probably be too late.
Like · Reply · 2 · 7 hours ago

Brian Chaline Please help us reach 900 likes.
(link to Infidel Brotherhood redacted)
Thanks!

The Infidel Brotherhood
The Infidel Brotherhood is a group established to promote education,warning andunderstanding of the danger involved in the spread of Islam. The twisted Sharia Laws and Ideologies that Muslims are using against Non-Muslims, women and childern.
Community: 921 like this
Like · Reply · 3 · 9 hours ago via mobile

Dale Rumley I am gonna fight till death for it. I with Jim Blackwell. The longer the shot the better!!!!
Like · Reply · 3 · 10 hours ago via mobile

Bettie Stanley Amen
Like · Reply · 2 · 10 hours ago

Nancy Jacobson I am with you .
Like · Reply · 2 · 11 hours ago

Marino Fernandez I wish this was true, pray that America wakes up to reality, and the mistakes it has made in the last two elections.
Like · Reply · 1 · 50 minutes ago

Jule Spohn Semper Fi!!! Jule Spohn - Sgt- USMC - 1960/66
Like · Reply · 1 · 9 hours ago

Savi Braun Everyone needs to help get our country back
Like · Reply · 1 · 10 hours ago via mobile

La Fern Landtroop Praying that God helps America !
Like · Reply · 1 · 3 hours ago via mobile

Terri Britt Smith Read Senator Ted Cruz last post.... gotta love that guy!!
Like · Reply · 1 · 5 hours ago

FJay Harrell Yes it will. The Boomers will not give up their party.
Like · Reply · 2 · 8 hours ago

Vanessa Mason Be careful in Obama Care they come after your children because of your military training, read up on it, it starts with home visits. I salute all military, and Thank you too.
Like · Reply · 1 · 10 hours ago

Lois F. Neway Semper Fi ......We have our future generations to think about!
Like · Reply · 1 · 10 hours ago

Joe Riggio Nor will mine....Semper Fi!!!
Like · Reply · 1 · 11 hours ago

Michael Coulter oorah!!!
Like · Reply · 2 · 11 hours ago

Joyce Ballard I pray this is right.
Like · Reply · 2 · 11 hours ago

Billy Wells I pray that you are right!!
Like · Reply · 10 hours ago

Carmita Depasquale Semper Fi, indeed and thank you for ALL that you do..God bless and God speed!
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

Rose M D'Amico I pray not....the young ones must be strong & we seniors will help when we can!
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Nathan Gartee I stand beside my fellow americans to FIGHT for FREEDOM !!!
Like · Reply · 10 hours ago

Thomas P Zambelli oh hell no!
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Marvin Moe Mosley Let's hope they stand up and be counted
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Bill Yeater gonna be a near thing
Like · Reply · 11 minutes ago

Dante Antiporda Obama's socialism will never happen in the US, if only its citizen will use their PEOPLE POWER a mass action together without FEAR and gun fired and NO BULLET hurt anyone.
Like · Reply · 34 minutes ago

Diane Stevens Abernathy Too late.
Like · Reply · 44 minutes ago

Chuck N Marv Pelfrey AMEN!! AGREE!!
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Jane Garrett Amen
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Sandy Thorne You got that right.
Like · Reply · 5 hours ago

Jane Hanson GOOD FOR YOU.
Like · Reply · 10 hours ago

Buck Wheat **** near already there
Like · Reply · 3 · 11 hours ago

Carol Lowell Already happening,
Like · Reply · 14 minutes ago

Ellen Aaron I surely hope not, but it's not looking good, right now...
Like · Reply · 16 minutes ago

Timothy Tremblay It would be a cold day in hell
Like · Reply · 18 minutes ago

Peter Krause Not without a major fight...
Like · Reply · 25 minutes ago

Mike Beakley You are a stupid person.
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago via mobile

Anibal Gonzalez Jr. I hope. And trust.
Like · Reply · 1 · 2 hours ago

George P Palmer Well son you better get off your *** cause I am one of last of the grate generation..
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Steven Canzonetta I don't think you people know what socialism is, take a civics class. Not mention democracy has been around for thousands of years, and the country that invented it (Greece) hasn't used it in century's. Shouldn't that tell you something?!
Like · Reply · 1 · 3 hours ago via mobile

Kenneth Chartrand we sure hope but there are a lot of ******* out there posing as americans
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Ann Morse unfortunately, we already have...
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Robert Dixon Aim High and I agree with you

Steven Canzonetta I don't think you people know what socialism is, take a civics class. Not mention democracy has been around for thousands of years, and the country that invented it (Greece) hasn't used it in century's. Shouldn't that tell you something?!
Like · Reply · 1 · 3 hours ago via mobile

Kenneth Chartrand we sure hope but there are a lot of ******* out there posing as americans
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Ann Morse unfortunately, we already have...
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Robert Dixon Aim High and I agree with you
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Deb Siener I wish but think it is already too late to take our country back
Like · Reply · 4 hours ago

Code Jah Capitalism, socialism, fascism and all the other ism's have all failed. They're all corrupt and unequal. No sense using any of that crap anymore, its a round world with unlimited potential. Why not start something new that works well for everyone not just a handful of industrialist pigs?
Like · Reply · 1 · 7 hours ago

Marco Moore are future
Like · Reply · 7 hours ago

Lydia Perez-Cruz If we don't want this, Everyone better Wake Up and put a Stop to it!!!!
Like · Reply · 9 hours ago

Terry Maeker Thank you!!
Like · Reply · 9 hours ago via mobile

Gayle Wright I AGREE
Like · Reply · 9 hours ago

Glen Dauphin Too late! All we can do is take it back now.
Like · Reply · 1 · 11 hours ago via mobile

Ruth E. Brown It's never too late. We stood by and allowed this to happen, so it's up to us to fix it.
Like · Reply · 1 · 5 hours ago via mobile

Michael Therrien Socialism? Really you folks need a dictionary. Socialism is not the same as Communism. Socialism is not the same as Fascism. Most democracies in the world operate under the banner of socialism. So stop getting your patriotism mixed up with fighting socialism. It has NOTHING TO DO WITH IT. And you gunners yeah... Your JOB IS DEFEND THE PRESIDENT not the politics. How is that going?
Like · Reply · 1 · 5 hours ago · Edited

Kathy Williams What are you going to do to keep obama from turning this country into SOCIALISM ?? We and congress just sit on our hands and expect God to do the work ????
Like · Reply · 1 · 53 minutes ago

Nancy Anderson Makes me glad I don't have kids.
Like · Reply · 1 · 11 hours ago · Edited

RoyLee Clouse Jr. AMEN!
Like · Reply · 4 minutes ago

Cherrie Fields Collins United we stand!
Like · Reply · 5 minutes ago

Pamela Lowry we need to fight
Like · Reply · 15 minutes ago

Jorge Alvarado I challenge you all to write your representatives, and demand change. Make a promise, if you see no change to vote out those representatives. When you are finished writing, go out to the corner of your street and hold up signs, advising others to do the same. Change starts while on your feet!!!
Like · Reply · 44 minutes ago via mobile

Humberto Gonzalez never
Like · Reply · 45 minutes ago

Robert Wilkins You elected a Socialist loser as president, twice! So yes, you are the generation whose stupidity and intellectual sloth let America fall to a bunch of two-bit dictators. Hope you're all proud of yourselves.
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

ColleenLee Johnson Sure hope this is the case - we have two years or less....
Like · Reply · about an hour ago via mobile

Darlene Nelson Stand up America if you love this country.
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

Jole Workman too late!
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

Pete Johnson Our grandfather's generation already did it when they elected Woodrow Wilson.
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

G Cindy Albe u are RIGHT about that!!!
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

Lynn Stacey Amen
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago via mobile

Mary Labonte If we must go down it will be one hell of a fight!!!
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Emma Joyce Wolfe THANK YOU
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Charles Twentier Someone please tell our country is under attack from inside and we need them to do what thier signs before it is too lat for us and them .
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Patsy McMillian Hartley Hope so.
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Ron Hendrix Keep Communist Cuban Guerillas out of the Senate and the spotlight.
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Matthew Keenan We already did!http://www.foxnews.com/.../
Why ObamaCare is a fantastic success
www.foxnews.com
There are 2 major political parties in America.
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Maryann Del Giorno Avella amen
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Selena Ervin i think we are almost there
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Rhoda Dietz we better all do smthing to stop it
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Todd Mcdonald What about Fascism
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago via mobile

Steven Canzonetta Richard A Haines, I see you posted the Mayflower compact. I believe the constitution trumps the compact, especially seperation of church and state. Also " one nation under god" was added to the pledge in the '50s as an anti communism campaign after WW2. Its not an American value, because we are suposed to respect all religeon, and keep it out of social policy. Maby your not an American, since you cant keep your dogma out of our government.
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago via mobile

Harry Mundy Socialism is a rolling snowball gaining size and momentum as it rolls downhill! Let's hope it can be stopped or impeded, but as it is rolling, more and more people jump aboard to benefit from the free ride!!!!
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Gary Carte With you all the way.
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Isaac Tedford Pookey! Let's bring this mother down!
Like · Reply · 4 hours ago

Else Mccomb God bless you all...
Like · Reply · 4 hours ago

John MacDonald IN GOD WE TRUST
Like · Reply · 4 hours ago

Byron Lee you better hurry then ---the ******* are gainigng on us!!!!!
Like · Reply · 4 hours ago

Justin Klimas HOOAH!!!!!!!!!!
Like · Reply · 6 hours ago

Joseph Ball Hell yeah
Like · Reply · 7 hours ago via mobile
106 of 172
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David Patton Arm yourselfs now and buy plenty of ammo, you will need it one day.
Like · Reply · 8 hours ago

Lucretia Landrum Amen !
Like · Reply · 8 hours ago

Lucretia Landrum Amen
Like · Reply · 8 hours ago

John Payne that right!!
Like · Reply · 8 hours ago

Little Eagle ****** McGowan No you too busy falling TO STUPIDITY.
Like · Reply · 8 hours ago via mobile

Carol Pinard Ummmm what obama is doing to our country in not socialism..... it is awful and shameful but it is not socialism. Do research on what socialism is supposed to be and not just what it became in the hands of evil people.
Like · Reply · 9 hours ago via mobile

Tim Veach Too late.
Like · Reply · 10 hours ago

Pam McBride Don't want it to be.
Like · Reply · 10 hours ago

Kathryn Seelmeyer RIGHT!
Like · Reply · 10 hours ago

Kim Janics my mom would love you but we are slowly have been going toward that direction since the beginning of governments.....yes even america
Like · Reply · 10 hours ago · Edited

DeAnna Stone already happening
Like · Reply · 11 hours ago

Irene Lopez Nice
Like · Reply · 11 hours ago via mobile

Scott Puttkamer A lil late I think! Obama has already done it!!!!!!!!
Like · Reply · 11 hours ago

Jimmy Oakes 2nd that!
Like · Reply · 11 hours ago

Diane Kelham OORAH....
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Tami Stanley Perkins Amen to that!!!!!! From one vet to millions of others, we shall rise to the occasion and fight here on our own land to remove a dictator!!!!!
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Fran Gordon Benz Not if I can help it! I see people reaching a boiling point!! Something is going to happen! I'm sensing the anger and frustration!
Like · Reply · 9 hours ago via mobile

Bob D. Beach Right!
Like · Reply · 4 minutes ago

Annie Graham Which generation would that be.....the one that 'allowed' SS, medicare, Medicaid, fire, police, parks, roads, education etc...?
Like · Reply · 35 minutes ago

Kassandra Craig then we need to get rid of obama
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

Tony Horton By Ballots or bull
The yellow aura
spiraled my night elf hunter avatar
as the DUN-DUMM
of false accommplishment
incited my addiction to
instant gratification.

I had just Leveled up.

The quest giver
gave me a choice

****** boots
Or
a less ****** Dagger

I took the ****** boots
because
**** the system
they looked cooler.

I was going to stomp cave spiders anyway,
what's the point of relinquishing
looking **** fine.
for an extra Attack Point?

****** Boots.

****** boots ALL Day long.

A naked human avatar
dances
facing a naked gnome
Named: "Buzz Lightyear"
He is Also dancing,
at crotch height.

This is Typical starting zone
foolery

I stayed up
watching Toonami all night
Naruto, Bleech, Inuyasha.
I could tell the sun came up
not because there was a window in my Kitchen,
there wasn't.

Tom and Jerry came on.
everyone knows
when Tom and Jerry came on
you were no longer pulling an
"all nighter."
You're pulling a
"Drink enough Soda
to get through the rest
of the day-er"

My entire diet
these past two days
has consisted of Gushers & Vault
because
Clearly Coca-Cola is superior
to Pepsi.

Therefore, Vault
was superior to Mountain Dew.
Which is the typical choice drink
of my internet brethren.

I don't know why I dyed my hair black nobody online could see it
But it made me feel
more
like my Night Elf Avatar

I wanted long white hair
I realized that's impossible
in 6th grade
So I Bought & Settled for Black
At least I could be like
"L" from death note,
Long sleeve white shirt, jeans
with no shoes.

I could also be
any other black-haired charecter
From any other angsty Anime
Because of course I loved angsty Anime
Because I held my cell phone like "L"
From Death Note.

I always dreamed
of this singing venus fly trap.

A Fuzzy Memory with a lost Origin
I realized seven years later
the Singing venus flytrap in my head
was AUDREY 2
from Little Shop Of Horrors.

Netflix reunited us in College
Audrey 2 finally Serenaded Me.
I listened with Voyeuristic Intentions
As memory saprilings grew
into the full songs
relieving the void in my soul
Lingering for a Man to be attacked
by a singing venus fly trap
in his own kitchen.

But only once,
Because I firmly beleived
movies should only be seen once
until I stopped
dyeing my hair black.
Despite watching Space jam
more times than any kid born in 1995 Should have
but still
all the kids born in 1995
watched space jam
more than any of them should have
because they were born in 1995.

Apparently
when I first saw little shop of horrors
it aired just before osmosis jones.

I love osmosis jones
almost as much as I love
Buzz lightyear, of Star Command

Buzz lightyears robot companion XR
reminded me of Cyberchase
and to this day Cyberchase
is the best show to watch
when you have no idea
who Gilbert Godfrey is.

Zoombinis is better
than oregon trail.
and also better
than Tom and Jerry.
but not better
than leveling my night elf Hunter.
Named:
"FEED ME A PIZZA!"

I think I spent more time
getting my Zoombinis
to look just right
then I Spent deciding
what outfit to wear

Routine
Black striped Hoodie
Unwashed and worn every day
Grey skulls all over it, because
of course it had grey skulls all over it.
Black pants.
Black socks
No actually, THESE black socks.
Okay, got gushers
and my Coca-Cola.

I now take as much time
to choose my outfit as
designing the perfect Zoombini.
however I have yet to replace
my legs
With
a skateboard.

I think that every grade before sixth grade is fourth grade
and 6th grade is basically 7th grade
which is to say my memory skips them both
to remember ending eighth grade

I miss being cool on the Internet
Whilst lame and forgotten in real life.

like black sock
wasn't quite as good
as that other Black sock.

I wanna go back.
To the seperation
Of who we pretend to be
Vs. who we actually are.
To be dramatic again.
incomparable.

An ideal self on the internet
Who is obviouslly not the real you
is decades more comforting
than Some Characatureized
Facebook Profile.

Today I was offered a choice

Work A minimum wage job
or
continue my useless college degree.

I decided to write a poem, because
**** the system.
If I am to Decide where to respawn from
Let it be poetry.

There is no spiraling Yellow aura
or DUN-DUMM

Sometimes there is snapping though.
Or a lost memory
of A singing venus Fly Trap.

I am a pretend person.
An avatar
just now, I have skin.
You can touch me
I breath without a Macro
or even pressing any keys.

I cannot bring myself to
Watch Space Jam again.
I can Identify Gilbert Godfrey's voice.
I will buy my children zoombinis
And it will collect dust
When all they want
Is to watch the fifth Toy Story movie
Way more than any kid born in 2020 should.
And all the kids born in 2020
Will Watch the fifth Toy Story Movie
Way more than they should
because they
will have been born
in 2020.

And I will rant
about the Missing LGM
and Warp Darkmatter
betraying Buzz Lightyear
By joining Evil Emperor Zurg
So Buzz was forced
to get three new Partners
Princess Mira Nova
Audrey 2
and Osmosis Jones.
because I will have Forgotten
Booster & XR.
Because Booster and XR
Never made a ******* Facebook Profile.

Nobody exists anymore.
We are all represented by our avatars
holding ourselfs up to the standards
of our photoshopped reflections

Being disappointed and overwhelmed

I Take pills to forget that I am
Acting Like myself
but can't find any evidence of Existing.
Besides these memories
of who i used to be.

I want my internet persona
to be nothing like me
So that I may focus on myself
in the real world coherently.

I want thick black lines
dividing mental Venn diagrams

I want Tom and Jerry
To signal me
That it is morning, again.
Basko Jan 2014
Dorsovertical is what my head is in,
contradicted to each other like
the ocean between us
But you cheer me up
being the beautiful soul
you are.

I dont see how the the
rainstorms in the New World are,
but i sure know if its
your eyes that see it, then
its all beautiful

We went walking in the rain, the sun
grass, mud and gravel rocks and sometimes
pavements
But in that fog of the morning here
and that of the mid day there
We're lost to be found everyday
im glad we still talk

I know you dont like to be written about
by me, at least
please know though that i need
you to stay, so slowly the
melancholy of the day disappears
I need you to stay, in my words
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
.how  dignified it is, to simply take a walk at night...

)            that's all i wanted to disclose...
what comes now,
is all the unnecessary details
that would constitute a prose piece...
albeit in cascade - for the ease
of the eyes bunddled up in a
claustrophobia of a paragraph:

i know: the mere word 'dignified'
seems rather obnoxious...
but... how dignified it is,
to take a walk at night...
esp. when one is recycling leftover
bottles of whiskey, whiskey,
beer... whiskey...

after reading Knausgård vol. 1 -
with his father strapped to the house
with his mother drinking himself
to death...
perhaps i'm also akin...

but... there's "****" to do in between...
good god! mein gott!
greta thunberg! run! i said run idiot!
run to the recycling center with
those glass bottles!
success though: cutting the ingestion
by over a half...

current bank balance?
nearing 2 thousand pounds...
and there's the garbage to sort between
the recyclable and the non-recyclable...
there's the tending to keeping
the house clean...

there's a remnant spark about giving
a toss about some sporting event...
there's cooking a dinner...
but... it seems i miss the man who would
find about an hour and a half
to walk the streets at night...

somehow i missed it -
but... i imagine the sight of a week's worth
of empty bottles in the wardrobe...
i've had enough and...
i call the dog that's the dignity to take
a walk at night...
to never overthink anything except
thinking - that i can leave in the basket
of nothing...

sometimes the ego-automaton jumps
in and makes my walking meditation
fuzzy... that's where i find this mythological
ego of psychology -
ego the anti-narrator...

which implies: not myself... reflexive...
not my, self... the reflective circumstance...

and there's no familiar presence
of an mp3 player (broken, ****** lasted
for 3 years, good enough lifespan)
and no headphones...

perhaps i was anti-radio some time ago...
i've amassed a decent personal library
of audio... but now i rarely use it
having made a discovery of the gramaphone
and vinyls...
and being the late 20th century colt...
i should still be ripping c.d.s onto
mp3... but...
i just wanted to check out what i was
missing...
perhaps... the crazed sound of passing
cars, will indeed, never replace
the cobblestones and hooves...
but... there's a right to heave a sigh...
for no apparent reason other than:
i've met myself this very first time
having aged...

this is not a time for west coast
1990s pop punk or punk rock or whatever
they called it... when you would
either run in gallop jumping
in a jonathan edwards style...
or looking down and walking into
a lamp-post... this is no time to be
refreshing the cinema of youth...
with the offspring's ignition...

not when you're walking: and trying not to think...

also of today: my jewish newly converted
to islam neighbour came round
asking about my mother's slight bout
of depression concerning...
her recent hip-replacement...
and what's still in the post...
the aesthetic surgery...
after all: what surgery, proper...
is also a plastic surgery - an aesthetic...
obviously the muscles and the bones
are intact... but there is always a chance
that waste tissue will be removed...
fat... etc. and it hasn't even been 2 weeks
since the surgery...
and she said: your mum should look
at my surgery scars...
i lifted up my t-shirt and turned
to show her my back... namely my
right shoulder-blade...

and i said to her: you know why i didn't
get aesthetic surgery on this mark
of cain? that's the same reason why i don't
have tattoos...
nothing against tattoos...
i have the only tattoo i need:
a mark of cain and some historical tattoos...
dates... that i keep close to me
from my time in the pedagogy meat-mincer
effort... how it began with the romans: per se...
later began with hastings 1066...
but it would never begin with:
the first battle of Tannenberg (1410)...
so you don't know how i think my mother
is exaggerating?
it's a good thing she's my mother...
she can have her ******* pass...
i'd give her the same ******* pass if...
we were married for 35 years and...
she was a woman i could grow with...
otherwise? the ******* pass i reserve for
children...

i subsequently signed her will...
yes... she came round looking for a second
witness for her will being made official...
or ****** bureucratic paper...
but nonetheless official...
i didn't mention the fact that...
the two witnesses that have signed the paper:
need to be present simultaneously...
i asked her... what's my occupation?
oh... right... i'm a scribbler...
a chicken-scratcher... writer of no
guild... a writ pusher...  

but all i wanted to write was...
i'm not a fan of the haiku...
esp. the western haiku... or a maxim:
i abhor maxims...
but if you put Kant into the juicer
and you spit out the congested
categorical imperative...
and it doesn't sound like the original, should:

act only according to that maxim whereby you can,
at the same time, will that it should become a universal law.

id est:

act only according to that haiku whereby you can...
at some distant point of time,
convene for it be a shared experience
in the ratio of a 1:2 point of seperation...
2:4 4:8 8:16...
but that's not really a categorical imperative
to begin with... what sort of "idiot" would strive
for a maxim to become a universal law...
universal laws are maxim spin-offs...
or i'm just blah-blahing too much...
waiting dear god: for the razor's edge (and drowning)...
or a punchline on stage in front of a dumb / mute
audience...

o.k. 5-7-5...
syllables... given the japanese don't use
letter but have syllables instead...
again: i'm not a fan...
if it took my long enough...
i'd find my 5 syllables and my 7 and again
my 5 syllables...
but i am a westerner...
i deal with letters... i don't deal with syllables...
unless they are prefixes akin to trans-...
meta-... anti-... post-...
the western adoption of the haiku implies
the boredom achieved from too many
sonnets... is the haiku the new sonnet?

i'll try... but i'll need to open a dictionary
for this effort...

water knee deep truce (5)
to the drowning man imploring (8)
signature the soul with this last breath (9)

or however many... it's just a passing thought:
i don't know how it would be worthwhile
to think inside a box... standing outside it
to begin with...
a haiku and no punctuation:
if you're going to be puritanical about it...
no punctuation?!
no diacritical markers?!

the Kant reference is just to ease up on:
who the hell would live by a maxim,
a stand-alone maxim at that...
one maxim to make it into the realm
of gravity...

there's the plethora of aphorisms that
are observations that... well...
let's just say it's no an imitation game... (

since how the hell does:
how dignified it is, to simply take a walk at night...
all of the above?
darwinism in images:

stopped climbing trees...
stopped being furry...
stopped dreaming about snakes...
stopped fearing snakes...
stopped wrestling with tigers...
stopped king kong versus tiger gorgon...
jumped into a whale...
came out sonar Jonah with hell'io Job
to boot...
stopped climbing trees...
took toward the complexity
of climbing rocks...
esp. boulders... later desired
the great big button of a cookie i.e.;
desired the moon...
brewed some moonshine...
build the mirror corridor
at Versailles...
dug up lazy dinosaur bones of
that thick glutton splodge and...
retired the horse... drove a car...
etc. etc.: came across
the happy birthday of death by
gregory corso and said:
that be one of the best recitations
of poetry i have ever heard...
in youth and Paris and Paris was
the signature...

all of this but there's still...
how dignified it is, to simply take a walk at night...
more to the point...
how dignified it is, to walk at one's own
leisure...
a bottle of england's finest ale...
theakston's the old peculier in one hand...
a marlboro cigarette in the other...
how dignified it is...
to walk: but to also walk... at one's leisure...
not running a marathon...
not... running the concrete or the tarmac
dry with new year's even resolutions
to loße mass... (yes... since weight involves
gravity blah blah)...

this auto-correct science factoid rubric
around each corner...
i can only admit that walking...
is a sport for gentlemen...
cognitive ping pong ensues...
a solo game... perhaps...
it's not a matter of sport...
or attempting gentlemanly stature...
which could be the case...
say... if i were 75... years old...
but...

that's all fine and dandy... the psychology
behind darwinism 2.0
not even copernicus made it that far
with his "revolutionary discovery"...
or not that Ptolemy was still...
index... bibliography and historical
constipation when attempting to be
democratic and historical...
in a single poo'em... with no rhyme...
and certainly no overt-technique biases
to: "identify with"...

it's still an image burning in my head...
the gorilla that would / could wrestle
a lion to sleep with a ripped-off jaw...
the thumb-king of the jungle
and the savannah...
and of course the donning of the conquered's
mane...

but beside all the discoveries in the past
and the present...
i will find myself smirking...
laughing to myself...
that someone will find this too...
i can't stress it enough:

when i see people driving their cars...
some fast, some slow...
walking onto a bus is not a leisure activity...
it's not even a dignity...
it's a time-warp... a short-cut...
besides the point...

even this brain sometimes allow for
the dignity of walking to be eclipsed...
what its sometimes-odd bursts of egomania /
megalomania or all those other:
traits of the rational man...

perhaps this is the first day i've truly
appreciated the sensibility of walking -
much more in that: it became a dignity...
like the time i found the antithesis of narcissus
in my shadow...
once upon a nightly promenade
in the english outer-suburban labyrinth...
20 minutes walk from the fields,
grazing horses... foxes, badgers and...
no wordsworthian naturalism... i.e. the idyll...

superior intelligence, the fork,
the knife, the screwdriver the *****...
the hammer and the nail...
the scythe, the sickle and the lollipop...
the telephone the radio the television
the soap opera addicts...
the bedsheets the bed the cushion
the shampoo and soap...
all of it... but none of it at the same time...
with what comes a priori and with
what comes a posteriori...
the dignity of walking...
perhaps the only state of grace...

perhaps less "abilism" and more - upon reflection...
a mother strapped to a bed
after a hip-replacement surgery?
i.e. in a personal, very personal,
non-Teheran specific vicinity?!

perhaps the most basic meditation is required...
nothing grandiose...
nothing temporal or non-temporal...
something basic...
i.e. spatial... a meditation on cross the street
like a mindful hedgehog that you are...
and not panic driven like a mother goose
with her nursery...

walk long enough and you can even
experience bouts of spontaneous amnesia...
which is not related to actual memories
and their totality...
more in the immediacy: amnesia ex cogitans...
amnesia out of thinking...
10 minutes apart and you can almost
forget what you were thinking of...
10 minutes more pass... the labyrinth spits
you out and you recover from that temp.
bout of crucible amnesia: to forget what you
were thinking about...
which is a variant to that other escapism
of day-dreaming...
since you're walking... and no day-dreamer
is synonym of the thinker who also walks...

this variant of escapism comes of its own
accord... perhaps it's an ontological built-in-mechanism
that when you couple walking with thinking...
you'll most certainly experience these
bouts of "amnesia"... which of course doesn't
include walking in circles... but in a labyrinth
of your unconscious motives...
that the body is dissociated from a conscious will...

since... what sort of thinking exists
on a treadmill... or during running... to begin with?

how  dignified it is, to simply take a walk at night...
dignified in that: one is not so much able
to come across one's best ideas there...
but that one can simply come across... cogitans per se
-

yes... i.e.: to be free from cogito ergo sum...
to come across the res cogitans medium...
only while walking...
and not like Descartes imagining oneself
sitting at a desk of doubt...

i find no better alternative: walking opens up...
thinking-in-itself... sometimes that's merely translated
as: being... it does not specify / reveal itself
as a: necessity of narration...
thinking is not narration is not thinking...
if you have experienced the ugly spontaneity of
the ego... in that vein of psychology's
three-tier meta-brain dissection of the mind:
subsequently the soul... blah blah...

now i see... this has become a sit-down meditation...
it has to end...
now that the arms have been employed for
a period longer, than the legs were employed
for, prior.
Connor Reid Apr 2014
A duality of elan vital, two people
Spectres of emotion
Intertwined by a fuselage of bruised skin & tendon
Tissues become orbital, gushing towards grafts
Helixes of snot, **** and lymph
Boy & girl
As they embrace the animating principle and eachother, they fuse
A one piece tapestry adorned seamless with no hem, beginning or end
Always was, always is
Patiently turning to liquid as their being unzips
Lying figures of runny makeup and genetic *****
Quintessence, a texture of synaptic potential
Corpus Callosum
An entirety of self, lost in imbued disintegration
Theory of mind, looped & bound
I will water the thought
Roots envisaged in dystopian amygdala
Piercing data packets with a frost-like intensity
Forgetting our obsolescence moments ago
A neuron dipped in nylon
Theta waves and the non-euclidean crux of dissociation
Ghosts in the machine, your macro god
The sympathies of fractional distillation
Digitised/assimilated unto the nanosphere
Cold hands and brass backs galvanised in oscillated tears
Commodified, sold out and bought
Stretching, from purple, white and black
slowly losing its colour, amorphous in shape
brushed across a smudge, ambiguously chromatic
Monetised flesh god
An eternity bathed in starlight
Cutting an incision in the sky to allow entropy
Divided dimensions of energy
Fleeting and intangible
No longer a delirium of seperation
All semantics become light
As a rusted vehicle passes overhead
And all the worlds questions fade out of existence
Flutters of red tape and foregone growth of practice
Sinew flayed, integrated towards information
Our minds shared
In circuits and resistors
Photons and electrons
We radiate
Latiaaa Jan 2014
Poem #1
You see him very close to you in the rain. There are blurry visions of wet droplets on your eyelashes. Try to get close as much as you can and touch his fragile skin. You’re soaked in rain together with slow, soft music playing through the musky, thick, wet air. You’re trying to find him in the crowd full of humans, but the hustle and the pain makes it worse. Pushing and shoving to get through it all. You get closer to him with every wet footstep. With one big leap in those innocent arms, you guys connect with a wet hug, swinging and giggling in the raining air. Just the two of you guys. Doesn't matter, beyond the background is silent. All you see is just you two in the cold, but yet warm rain. A soft kiss on the lips. This is what you call romantic.  

Poem #2
Don’t know a thing about each other. Don’t even know you guys even exist.  Ya’ll never seen each other’s face, smile, and thoughts. You two are miles n' miles far from each other. You two were dating different people at the time. But then it all changes with one move. You see the new faces, new area, new everything. It takes days, weeks, even a month to finally notice each other. You two never thinking this will happen to you guys, but it does. The friend, buddy, pal feeling you guys are having is petite. Little things change even more. You two are closer, fragile, heated, and obvious. The anticipation waits. The texting, oovooing, Facebook-ing appear.  Then the question comes to place. Things get even more heated, intense. Love goes on and you two are just made for each other. From a faraway distance, a big change can put an effect on life. Two strangers, not knowing each other, being friends and all, become intense, fall in love from separation places. <3

Poem #3
Do you sit on the roof and dream like her? Do you write and watch the sunset slow its way down to the center of the earth like her? You think of courageous things like her? Is there a song that puts you to that place like her? Do you glare off into space and just think of the two of you like her? Do you wish and imagine like her? You pretend everything is ok when it’s not like her? Do you miss her like she misses you? You get up with a fake smile and attitude like her? Do things run in your mind like crazy ants like hers? Do you see a future with her like she does? If so, and surprisingly you do half the same things as her, then why are you standing like a bug on a wall? Are you afraid of the truth and reality like her? You’re afraid on what’s going to happen between you two? Speak! Both of you! Say what’s on your mind. Let it out. It’s best to know than not.

Poem #4
You guys live far from each other. Probably 10 miles far, 100 seconds, 10 minutes, and maybe even ½ hour far apart. Over the trees, through the streets, across the houses, and past the sidewalks. 3 buses to get to him and 3 buses to get home. Only the sweet technology to keep you guys in touch is the key. If only you guys lived close, you can share your deepest feelings. Being far apart is like being on your own, and it’s hard to keep guard n' close secure. You’re a loose goose when not being seen from each other frequently. It’s best to be close to each other than far as a drifty ghost. You’ll see each other at school hopefully, and things will be repeated again.
Allyson Walsh Jan 2016
Decisions are kind of a funny concept. Some people believe that everything happens for a reason. Others believe that each decision has a domino effect on other parts of life. Have you heard of the butterfly effect? This idea believes that every decision leads to various outcomes, and that there are multiple paths a person can take. I like to agree with this statement.

Decisions are what make a person. At least, they're what show a person's character...

I observe ordinary character on a regular basis. I work at a liquor store in a town of roughly three-thousand people. I know the regulars by name, and I can tell who's had a rough day or who is excited for the weekend by what they purchase. I know when Barb is furious at her husband because she buys two liters of *** and the smokes he hates. I can tell when Dave is on good terms with his fiance because he skips the Fireball and heads straight for his 24-pack. Bob... is really just Bob. He comes in and buys a liter of coke, a liter of Bacardi, and a pack of Marlboro reds every day at 4:30 on the dot. Each of these regular's decisions display part of their character. Many of their purchases can be influenced by their emotions... but what part of life isn't?

You're probably wondering when I'm going to get to my point. That'll be a couple hundred words further. You of all people know how great I am at ranting.

How is my minimum-wage job connected to decisions and character? That's a good question. Each decision leads to a specific outcome. These decisions are based on the character of a customer. Their character is displayed in their decisions at my dead-end job. Anyway, back to your decisions.

Decision Making
Relationships are basically a hurdle of decisions. Deciding how to sleep together. Deciding the best way to kiss despite the height difference. Deciding what to say when meeting the in-laws. Deciding when to say "I love you". It's decision after decision after decision.

I like to think that each decision can lead to various outcomes. For example, if I would have never lost my virginity to a one-night-stand and cried about it to the girl living across from me, I would have never met you. So, if I waited to take off my clothes or if I cried about it to my roommate instead, this last year would have gone a lot differently.

I'm beginning to work my way to your decisions. First, let me state that you were the most indecisive person I have ever met. You were passive. You were lukewarm. You were flat. You were only certain on one thing: your admiration for college basketball.

I have to admit that you were decisive on your verdict to be with me... for a time. I guess I have to give you a little credit. You weren't all bad. There was a lot of good in you. But, there was a lot of rottenness underneath your tall, dark, and handsome physique.

The Beginning of the End
You decided to avoid a decision from the very beginning. Sure, it was me that you wanted. I mean, I was great. I still am. I may be biased, but I don't care. You wanted me... but you didn't want the price-tag I came with.

What did I tell you from the beginning? Let me refresh your memory. We were sitting on a lime green couch in the lobby of our college. It was close to midnight and I was exhausted but didn't want to be without you. I told you that I expected you to:

1. Be honest.
2. Be faithful.
3. Pursue me.
4. Make me a priority.

I didn't ask for much. I was searching for... Oh, I don't know, a relationship that sounded pretty standard in my terms. I wanted something serious, but that doesn't mean that I wasn't looking for fun or liveliness. These requests were normal, in my mind.

I then asked you if you would choose me over your mother. I knew you were close to her... and I hadn't met her yet. Also, for some reason, I already had a feeling that she despised the thought of me, and the idea of her little man bringing a girl home... (God forbid she have a brain on her head).

I didn't want to be tantalizing. I believe I am gentle in nature. But, if everything worked out, I wished to be the number one woman in your life... not your mother. I restated my question after a few beats and you continued to ponder the thought. After a few seconds you told me, "No, probably not. But I might change. I want you." That should have stopped me in my tracks.

But it didn't. We were together for about a year since that night. We kept things quiet for a few months before becoming "official" or whatever. Your decision or avoidance should have sent me running... and it did... to you.

I think part of myself knew that I deserved better. Also, part of myself believed that there was beauty in maltreatment. But, I saw potential in you. You were my best friend.

You were... I was in love with you.

I was willing to fight for us. I was willing to fight for you. I was willing to battle it out... and I saw myself coming out victorious, like the warrior I truly am... but, you were a battle lost from the very beginning.

Whatever "Fighting for Me" Looked like to You
Things got worse when confusion arose between your mother and I. She thought I was sleeping with you (when I wasn't). There was a lot of yelling... most of it was in Spanish. I was scared. I was petrified. She believed I was ******* up her perfect son. This put us on unsteady ground.

This was also the first time I saw you cry.

It was a battle between what she wanted and what I wanted. She wanted me out of the picture. I wanted you to stand up for me, and to stand up for us.

You chose me. This would be the one and only time I came out as the number one priority. I believe this was because you were over three hundred miles away from her piercing eyes and thin lips. It was easy to put us first when she wasn't there to "knock some sense" into her son.

Your mother didn't speak to you for months. She was furious. She was angry. Her dislike toward me grew with every passing day.

Letting the Bruises Heal
For the next six months, things seemed to get better. We fought but made up. We talked of the future while understanding that we were still young. We grew as lovers and as friends. We made promises and kept them.

But, the semester was ending. The snow was gone and the grass was nowhere near green. Three months of separation were just around the corner and I knew of the trials to come. I also knew that if we could make it through the summer, that we could last. That is, if we could make it with your bitter mother by your side.

Seperation Leads To...
Three months of fifteen minute phone calls every once in a while dragged on. I was patient with you. We were both working our tails off. I was taking summer classes. You spent any and all of your extra time off working for your dad or training for soccer preseason. Still, I was patient.

We saw each other twice during the summer. Those days were some of my happiest within this past year. Distance really does make the heart grow fonder. Those first moments of seeing you were like revelations. All of the time away made sense. The eight hour drive to see you made sense. We made sense.

It was during your stay at my house when I realized I didn't want to be with anyone else. Ever. It was the first time you told me you were in love with me. I felt the same. We didn't just love one another, we were in love.

It was during my stay at your house, a few months later, when I realized things were heading south.

Temptation
We fought. We fought a lot during the month before I drove to Wisconsin. It was almost daily. Somehow we made up... somehow. You were stressed and I was anxious. I was anxious and afraid.

But, I came down to see you, nonetheless. Most moments, I believed we were healed. We could conquer anything. Others... I knew your mind was elsewhere.

Although, when we said goodbye, I believed we were true. You made me a promise I was sure you would keep. Our goodbye was the second time I would see you cry.

Looking back, I think I know why. You were tempted. You were more than tempted.

Decisions and Indecisiveness
The day after I got back home, you said you "wanted to take your promise back".

Two days after that, you left home to go to a camp I knew nothing about. You "couldn't take your phone" but I knew better than that.

We went an entire week without talking. And I knew something was wrong. I had never felt so sick in my life.

You eventually returned home from camp. But, it took you two days to respond to me. Once you finally called me, you told me you "couldn't do this right now". Then you hung up. That's when I knew it was over.

I was furious. I was jealous. You were tagged in pictures on social media with a few girls in particular.

1. Phones were allowed.
2. You were awfully close to one girl.
3. You were lying through your teeth.

We met up on campus a few days later. I had a list of questions that just about vanished into thin air when I saw you. You were ruggedly handsome... And I was still in love with you.

You greeted me with a hug. I just about cried.

You explained to me that your parents gave you an ultimatum. It was me or college. Stay with me, and college was out of the funds for you. Break things off with me, and college would be paid for. You told me you chose college.

You explained how you "needed to do this for yourself".

You also told me you didn't love me anymore.

You decided against me.

The Entire Truth
I was confused. I was heartbroken. Nothing made sense. It was like you gave me a puzzle that was missing more than half of the pieces. I spent the next month trying put the thing together. I came up with one single solution... but I didn't want to believe it.

My hypothesis rang true through a friend. I believed you cheated on me. Yes, I was sure your parents pulled their big levers; but I believed you were hiding information from me. You were.

I can't go into the details because I don't know all of them. In fact, I probably never will. I've ran through every scenario a thousand times in my head, and I still come up short.

All I know are your decisions. Your decisions show your character. Your character is flawed. Your decisions broke a large part of me. I am still attempting to put myself back together.

Out of all of your indecision, out of months of tug-of-war, you were so decisive on leaving. You were set on cheating. If anything, I wish I could ask you why.

Why did I always seem to come up short? Why wasn't I good enough for you? Why did you choose money, college, and your family over me? Why did you choose her over me?

So many questions I will never get closure on.

Deciding to Decide
I have moved on... for the most part. There are still days (like today) when I miss you more than anything. But, I am stronger. I am certain that I was good enough for you, even if you couldn't see it. I am also certain that you were the first person I was truly meant to be with.

Remember when I mentioned the butterfly effect? I know that different decisions lead to various outcomes. We have the choice. We decide where our life goes (or we choose indecision).

Your decisions led to a different life. A life without me.

And I think, as of right now, I'm okay with that.
For WY

Not poetry. I don't know where else to put this.

Insanely long. A lot of ranting. A lot of heartache. A lot of decision making.

I can't pack our story into one piece... but I tried.
Rai Sep 2011
She wants to feel the softness of feathers upon the tips of her toes
Reaching out for comfort that will surely come
Caresses the moments before midnight
With suger kisses so sweet
Like honey coated forgiveness
She smiles into her lovers eyes of crystal dew
Beyond
Her sences reeling
Twirling, dancing
Like the figurine within an ancient music box
As the music surrounds the childs mind so pure
And yet
There is more captured within
The sweetness is soured only by memories
She paints with fingers in the suger
To forget
There are things so worth forgetting
She sees him sleeping and places
mirrors where his eyes once looked upon her
For now she will see herself
The way he see's
The blood from the girl child dried as he slept
There was to be no more sugered moments
No more honey for him to savour
she had seen
Her worth in his eyes
Such a shame sweet child
She should of loved herself with toes touching feathers
Reaching for a comfort
That would only be found in forgiveness of self
Far beyond the place he sleeps
With mirrored eyes of crystal dew

He awakes to find his beloved drenthed in death
He reaches for moments which never come
Her projection of him so false upon this moment
As in a moments seperation
She sees with her angel presence
The suger he tastes on lips so pure
His tears now mingle with the blood
As he tears her mirrors from his eyes
He understands not
The reason
Why white feathers are falling from the sky
Rai Mar 2014
She wants to feel the softness of feathers upon the tips of her toes
Reaching out for comfort that will surely come
She caresses the moments before midnight
With suger kisses so sweet
Like honey coated forgiveness
She smiles into her lovers eyes of crystal dew
Beyond
Her sences reeling
Twirling, dancing
Like the figurine within an ancient music box
As the music surrounds the childs mind so pure
And yet
There is more captured within
The sweetness is soured only by memories
She paints with fingers in the suger
To forget
There are things so worth forgetting
She sees him sleeping and places
mirrors where his eyes once looked upon her
For now she will see herself
The way he see's
The blood from the girl child dried as he slept
There was to be no more sugered moments
No more honey for him to savour
she had seen
Her worth in his eyes
Such a shame sweet child
She should of loved herself with toes touching feathers
Reaching for a comfort
That would only be found in forgiveness of self
Far beyond the place he sleeps
With mirrored eyes of crystal dew

He awakes to find his beloved drenthed in death
He reaches for moments which never come
Her projection of him so false upon this moment
As in a moments seperation
She sees with her angel presence
The suger he tastes on lips so pure
His tears now mingle with the blood
As he tears her mirrors from his eyes
He understands not
The reason
Why white feathers are falling from the sky
Shrivastva MK Jun 2015
I can't live without you,
Because you are my heart & life.

I can't stay away from you,
Because I want to see you day & night.

I can't do anything without you,
Because you are my work & time,.

I will surrender my whole life,
Because you are my values & respect.

I can't see nothing without you,
Because you are my eyes & its sight.

Sometimes, I freak out,
Because I fear by your seperation.

I always straggle without you,
Because you are my direction & might(Power).

If you don't meet with me,
then I will end my life.

Say  MANISH   about love that
It is very beautiful & symbol of light.
I TRY TO MAKE THIS POEM ERRORS FREE.
BUT SOME ERRORS MAY BE AVAILABLE IN MY POEM.PLZ LEAVE A MSG IF YOU SEEN ANY TYPE OF ERRORS.
THANKS FOR SUPPORT.
Anonymouse Jane Dec 2014
I fell asleep to the sound of your screaming,
the melancholic melodies of our sinister love.
I woke shrouded in silence;
the dark room shifted and squirmed around me.
My hands groped the sheets for you
but were left wanting.

The sun comes up
and I’m still waiting.
The room now a temple of hate,
an auditorium of ludicrous lamentations

Too late for recess from the pain
too tangled in a cancerous web of thoughts
too late

-our sweet wine now vinegar.
heather leather Oct 2015
first you will cry. you will feel every emotion that you've ever felt being washed
down the drain and you will taste the sour, bittersweet heaviness of sobbing at 4:35 a.m. on your lips and you will scream so quietly it will be a whisper to others
but a clap of thunder inside of you and your lungs will stop working and your
ribs will feel as if they were collapsing and you will not be able to walk the next
day because you will feel as heavy as a truck full of rocks

next you will be silent. you won't speak you won't nod your head you won't smile
you won't write you won't move; you will suddenly be able to feel your bones and your stomach caving inwards inside of you and your skeleton will become so thick with the secret carvings in your skin that it will
be a labyrinth that even you will not dare to explore and the world will continue
to spin, everything will go on and you will just stay numb to keep yourself
from falling apart

then you will hate him. you will curse every single being that pushed you to talk to him you will rant about what a terrible person he was and how ****** up your love was in the first place and that it hadn't meant anything and you will say he was just another burning star in the sky you will say his light has started to fade you will say he never cared about anything you will say it doesn't matter and you will yell until your voice is raw and your throat is hurting and you will go to sleep silently wishing that the tears on your cheeks would stop pouring and you will feel an inner self loathing at the core of your chest for being so stupid, for caring about him in the first place, for being pathetic enough to keep all of his things neatly in a box at the corner of your closet because you cannot bear to throw any of it away

then he will call you.

he will make you question every single thought you've ever had, every single moral you had created for yourself and he will tear down your walls with an ax made out of love and nostalgia and he will say he still loves you and he will say that leaving was a mistake and he will make you remember the memories you had blocked out he will give you a new phone number and you will attempt to talk to him but it won't feel the same and all your old conversations have been deleted all your photos are no longer on your wall and you will realize that you are in love with the memories you had together, not who he actually is and you will still cry at night sometimes and you will still be overwrought with anxiety and helplessness and your heart will become a boat sailing on rocky waters but you will be okay.

the word finally will come on a cold tuesday morning and you will be rushing to get to school because you overslept and you will search desperately for your red sweater but you will not find it and you will mutter every curse word you know and pray that your mother doesn't hear you and you will stumble across his sweatshirt and you will throw it on lazily and run to school and you will forget all about it until somebody asks if you like that band and you will smile confusedly and say that you haven't listened to them in a while and you will go home and he will not call you and you will not care because the word finally is branded on your chest and it means that you have moved on. it means that your lungs still work and your ribs are in the right place and you will go to sleep that night with the taste of happiness on the tip of your tongue and it will not matter that he was toxic, it will not matter that all the flowers you grew together have died, in that moment you will feel better than you have in months and you will realize that you are okay, your boat will not sink the storm is over the aftermath has passed and you will be okay.

(h.l.)
Six Degrees of Separation by the Script
Rebecca Croston Nov 2011
I am,
Him and Her.
My Sister has Her infectious laugh and sparkling eyes.
My Brother has His humour and bad habits.
I hold His behaviour.
Cynical and depressive.
I hold Her sad expressions and moods, tired and lonely.
When I am not cynical, depressed, tired or lonely,
I am happy.
Which together they never were.
I exist outside of him
A strange concept to process
Eleven years will bind you to a man
Seperation is a storyteller
A strange concept to process
This time apart has told a story
Of a woman reclaiming her sanctuary
I exist outside of him
We are over
Alas!
I am still breathing
i am still breathing
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
.i do expect you to become lost in this labyrinth - at least that's what i'd rather say - sleep-deprivation is for "some" reason to escape the mediocre of having catched the "8 hour wink"... or whatever the Minotaur wouldn't call it... because i wouldn't call it a "problem" of "gender-neutral pronouns" either... i would call it a "problem" of noun-acquisition-status of letters; notably in greek and hebrew.

friends of "the" family have been looking
for on fb,
****... the caron S (š) will not do!
i need to use two alphabets that...
did not nurture yiddish into existence!
cyrillic didn't accept hebrew...
it'll have to do...
it wouldn't be enough to simply write
my name in cyrillic...
and no... in hebrew no less!
since the vowels are hidden...
and inserting the proper hebrew vowel...
it still wouldn't matter that...
my surname is missing... the galician germanic
e(ch)lert or the e(sch)lert...
no... but how is one to insert
the right kind of vowel: all in hebrew niqab
harem of diacritical markers subscript...
when... you don't have...
enough letters as nouns as scientific
constants as the greeks... do...
i guess only η (eta) stands out as a sore thumb /
black sheep... but i am bound to be wrong,
in the meantime:
well it's hardly a letter-with-a-noun
inclined akin to alpha (α) -
otherwise all is well...
we use the prefix prime (the grammaton per se)...
and discard the suffix when constructing words...
ergo? a-lpha...
and so an so forth...
till be arrive at...
blasting your ears nearing deafness because:
beethoven's mrs. H is:
music so you have to shout over it!
loud! what?! loud music!
loud music what?! loud music
to shun the "pain"...
oh... see you in one of those classes
when you can write sign-language for the dead
when you've been allowed to write braille!
see you sputnik ****!
yeah, see you deaf in one year divine John!
but you get the promise that's:
not your everyday latin castrato sing-along...
those greeks sure have all the best
science... stabilizers... not a lot of songs
to sing along to... because their letters
are also noun-status: also have noun-status...
otherwise the ol' prefix use...
and the suffix recycling centre...
a word like: matter...
well...
   ματτερ - no... i will not use the greek word...
i'll state... mmm... hm!
mu implies m- and cutting off the -u...
alpha implies a- and cutting off the -lpha
tau implies t- and cutting off the -au...
epsilon implies e- and cutting off the -psilon
rho implies r- and cutting off the -**...
and so... we have the word matter...
and the recycled materials for...
some other words...

hebrews? hebrews do have... noun-status letters...
(א) aleph - what's vogue?
inserting the iota into the omicron that's
the marriage: φ (phi)...
or whether it's the turning of the iota in
the omicron to provide the opening of the door
θ (theta) to see: that light at the end of the tunnel
delta (Δ)... again... it's only aleph we're "investigating"...

the other letter in hebrew with a noun-status?
(ג) g'imel...
another is (ד) d'alet...
(ז) z'ayin...
(ל) l'amed...
(ס) s'amekh... most certainly (ע) a'yin...
(צ) t'sadi...

interlude: what is the distance
between (א) a'leph and (ע) a'yin?
a kametz...

now we can "debate" - noun-status letters...
the greeks are in the same sort of pickle
as the hebrews...
there can be a debate whether...
the greeks have more than:
alpha, beta, gamma, delta, epsilon, iota,
lambda, omicron, sigma, upsilon, omega
as noun-status letters...

why? because it becomes silly...
(ק) qof and (κ) kappa...
(ר) resh and rho (ρ)...
(שׁ) and... well... to be honest...
that's heading into cyrillic territory...
and the caron S (ш)...
given (ס) samekh and sigma (σ)...

this always happens to me when i come
across a hebrew...
even if he's old and riddled with dementia...
i see him with his polish bride
and i see a "romanian gypsy"...
the feeling is... strange...
this hebrew is like an old cousin of mine...
but it's always a touch of magic...

i am not good at solving crosswords...
(כ) 'xaf' and chi (χ) -
perhaps i have exagerrated the letter-as-noun
status on some of this greek and hebrew...
tightly-knit bed-fellows...
as the boasting resounds in the labyrinth
of the rise and fall of the roman empire...
and the barbarian attempts to have
settled the lands near the seven hills...
and revived the eagle...
spec-ta-cu-lar failures!

the germans should console themselves
with having a crow on their marching banners...
and polacks should...
satisfy themselves with the unicorn myth
of an all-white bald eagle... albino eagle...
and so the harry potter: minus ***** 'arry
can have their unicorns, swans,
honey-badgers, welsh dragon,
st. andrew's gryffindors... etc. -

name, a name... i need to... change it...
obviously...
no hebrew vowels will be used...
since... their use... is devoid of what's already
concrete usage of diacritical markers
in established letters...
if cyrillic and hebrew is to be used...
and not greek and hebrew:
because... well thank you for the new testament
riddle... let's move... away...
to "greater" / other... things....

i can't use a kametz alpha
a tzere epsilon
a chirek iota
a cholem omicron
or a shurek upsilon (omega)...
so all the vowels will have to by cyrillic...

my... latin, name?
mateusz konrad... let's drop the surname...
let's call it a game of:
ibn... or ben... matthew son of konrad...
and since i don't have a... confirmation name...
what name? i would have chosen: Isidore...
after the saint of seville...
or... Ignatius (of Loyola) -
the only fun part of going to a catholic school
was... learning about the counter-reformation
and writing an essay about it...
and their library was decently stacked...
so... plus plus...

this is but a simple exercise...
first the name in cyrillic...
there will not be a full name in hebrew...
which i'll probably lace with greek...
and it will still make all the more perfect
sense... should it be transliterated back
into anglo-ßaß...
yeah: why i don't have a girlfriend...
with these sort of interests?
i guess an hour with a *******
once a year is enough for me...
and for womankind in the hospice of omni...

just following the laziness
of the russian visa authorities are the embassy...
they didn't translate mateusz into matvei
or konrad into: Дракон...
мат-вей...

these are the sort of idiotic tier-1 level
кaцaпс... working in the russian embassy in Loon'don...

because i was never going to be the матвей
who'd **** an илoнa like the 300 deadly mongrel
saracren mameluks or the spartans... no...
i counter the 7 headed beast on her
with every ****** in that one night
i was making my final goodbyes...
but keeping the mikhail bulgakov novel...
through a repose in Warsaw and...
i finished what, "apparently" i wasn't supposed
to finish...

and she is one of those troubled girls...
every ****** partner that meant anything to her...
she will have a tattoo of that lover
on her body... i know my place on her body...
it's on the right shoulder-blade...
the tattoo is of a dragon...
i know because i've met girls like her...
elsewhere...

even as i was being driven home after taking
my mother for her rheumatoid arthritis check-up,
blood test, x-ray... and the pakistani cab-driver
was talking about all the precautions he needs
these days: video ahead of the bonet for insurance
policy... a camera looking in...
and audio recording on his smartwatch...
because what he said... didn't surprise me...
i once picked up a spanish girl - Tamara in a club...
and she decided to take me home
for a one night stand...
as we were approaching the house she was
sharing with three homosexuals
she decided to jump out of the cab...
and make a runner... i calmed the cabbie:
i'll pay for it...
we tried to later **** the hetreosexual way
with her calling me angel because
of my "erectile dysfunction" under the bed sheets
in that putrid smoke of cocoon ***...
like the birth of a rancid moth embryo and
choking from the heat of dust and alcohol
and... what i am alluding to is that some girls
do jump out of cabs to avoid paying the fair...
i knew what the pakistani cabbie was saying...
she owed him 40 quid...
he filed the whole thing to the police...
she accused him of ****** assault...
the story would have fit...
she run from the cab when he tried to sexually
assault her... but... he did have
that audio recording from his smartwatch...
in the end the girl was fined 700 quid...
which is nothing... compared to...
what's that called in h'america? a false accusation?
slander?
i know that girls jump out of cabs...
to avoid paying the fare...
i drove with one... who did just that...
i guess she was so used to this act that she
forgot i was sitting next to her...

- all the *****... but then all the chem-soup
post-psychiatric *******?
the ***** i can stand...
the pills are just tasmanian devilish when
it comes to catching the perfect
battery insomnia recharge...
and always meeting and respecting
the elder of the group darwinistic:
prat pact... a hebrew...
there always needs to be a yew
a *** in the equation...
no... not some english society
uncle tom worth of a high society rabbi...
i mean a jew that will support
west ham... because...
it's an irrational team...
it can fathom beating chelsea (A)...
but then... "forget" to win against...
for god's sake! Norwich (H)!

i know! i know! joseph conrad took his place!
here's my part anagram!
Mатвей Дракон...

the near non-existent diacritical presence
in the english language...
well... no "surprise surprise" if...
you're starting with
и (i) or rather (ı)...
and what's being the flock of salmon
up the river, being caught?
the j but not (ȷ)... imagine my... "surprise"
that the russians arrived at...
и and ı - in tow... ȷ and the й...
the breve...
parabolla or... my eyes only see
the microscopic details when someone
will simply slurr?

- borrowing from yesterday and...
in the early night of winter standing
in the garden with four potatoes
and something else...
looking up at the sky...
i am used to seeing unusual "things"
in the sky -
i'm not unusual when it comes
to having seen a u.f.o. - fluorescent
and squid like in colour -
but i'm also the sort of person that
would carry a few beers for such
spontaneous encounters -
rather running around like a raving
lunatic armed with a camera
filming the whole thing...
i have no proof: i hope my words are enough...
and if they're not?
well... if it can be seen with a naked eye -
i don't need to blink via a technological
feed and argue about: quality of the picture...

but even i wasn't ready for...
what i saw today...
those are roaming stars? aren't they?
and i really did forget to count how
many moved in the same direction
askew - one by one with equal distance
between them - before the distance between
extended - there must have been more than
10 - i'd say there were around 20!

is this always how things are -
when one contemplates the tetragrammaton?

part anagram? well because the russian
do have a version of the hebrew matisyahu...
but they do not have the german conrad
in their language...
probably as to why the germans do not
really have... a yuri or nikita in their language...
nikita after all sounds more feminine than
masculine - anyone could with hindsight
speak of mr. rocketman's lover of
the same same... as not some russian beau
example of the fairer ***...
but a comrade khrushchev...

- and why wouldn't i call those russians
that work in the russian embassy in Loon'don
кaцaпы? for one... they just type letter for letter:
a mateusz / a matthew is a мaтэусз...
for all "legal" purposes...
they already have the сз = ш...
bureucratic purposes...
and no wonder some are like:
how do you say that?
too many consonants some add...
and i really did think that all of us were
allowed to be fully literate...
that's not the case... blowing my own horn...

having a wet ***** over: because i like my given
names... perhaps that's why i didn't want
the confirmation option of being allowed
to change any of my given names: legally...
to one of my own chosing...
when i was 15 / 14 i didn't even known
or think about a name like Isidore...

when the german name became coupled
with a hebrew loan...
otherwise the russian with the first
being an anagram... drakon -
Mатвей Дракон - it's just a name -
it's my name - what's in a name is what's
precisely not in anonymous names
.666 handles and avatars on the internet...
i can own my face - and i can own my name...
because - i kind of like it...

again: on in russian can the west slavic
C be distinguished from the K... Ц -
and back into the cyst of the western lands...
Ç or what came with sigma's tail...
it's so... boring... to have less the different
sounding letters - given no diacritical markers -
and only the "exotica" of spelling -
all the metaphysics in the world combined
and concentrated in greenwich...
but no real orthography...
i could begin the day by bemoaning this poverty
of the english language...
oddly enough as both the outsider coming in...
the immigrant who became a citizen...
and as the insider coming out and coming in
again on that expatriate spectrum of
working from the thesaurus: IMMIGRANT...
for all the beauty of Macbeth...
i can have to ruse myself to bemoan
conventional english... the formal english...
the antithesis poetica...

but i do somewhat "know" why it's called
a tetragrammaton...
i wouldn't classify any of the letters that make it up
as noun-worthy letters...
the kametz (a) and the tzere (e) are nouns...
and letters... but you don't see them when
the hebrew doesn't exfoliate and is left
crude with "missing vowels" for the gentiles
to read...
saying that... calling ה (he) a noun is pushing it...
as is calling ו (vav) a noun...
or י (yod) - although...
the yod could be allowed a noun-status
as... an apostrophe... or a version of the caron -
but the remaining letters of the tetragrammaton...
are "syllables" in that they are consonants...
and when the tetragrammaton comes face
to face with noun-status letters of its own
universe: g (ג) gimel, d (ד) dalet, z (ז) zayin -
l (ל) lamed, s (ס) samekh, ц (צ) tsadi -
resh? shin? the gates are open to allow the question
in... but when...
there's also siamese Adams aleph (א) and Ayin (ע)
being and nothingness respectively...

what could Islam possibly offer me...
intellectually?
when i once asked a muslim what...

alif, lam, meem                                      meant...
he replied... only god knows...
so i thought... only god?
i must have been talking to one of those muslims
who have arabic overlords...
before they can catch a whiff of the almighty
blah'llah...
ا, لَـ, مَـ
again... greek only touches upon...
the initial - the medial and the final
version of sigma...
isolated you would see the capital sigma...
Σ - which could also be treated as the initial
letter - given that the σ looks more like a medial
form - although it's also initial -
whereby ς is the final form -
almost like the english: 's... apostrophe s -
which could be claimed to be an article of possession...
or the plural article when the apostrophe
disappears - or when the ς altogether disappears
when: the possession is plural:
a teachers' strike... e.g.

no not with a fatha - we have our own diacritical
markers... thank you...
but good question...
so... why is the meem written in an isolated
form in the word - yawm (day)...
but not in a final form?
but i do not write in a squiggly line in this digital
arena... perhaps my language looks simply
written... oh yes, the aesthetic of the arabic script
is always stressed...
but even the hebrews think like the greeks
and the latins... in a way...
nothing has to flow in one river-wry format...
there's no isolated letter... of a letter -
as there's no initial no median and no final
form of it... but there is a "question"
of the hiding of vowels...
for gentiles and muhammadians alike...

- perhaps some will call it the trans-community...
there was once a dead poets' society...
evidently with the rise of de-transitioning...
there's now a nag hammadi library society...
circa 1945 when this library was left unchecked
in the hands of: the children
with too many toys and too many sandpits...
probably that one neu-mecca of san francissco...
at least the dead sea scrolls:
that were unearthed at about the same time...
treated the hebrew far better than
the nag hammadi library treated its children...
and why the former power, the vatican,
didn't step in... to control these text...
as they flew out on a *****-nilly without
herr zensor... herr inquisitor...
i will never know...
the scouts of medicine left... black holes
of having advanced in the field of anaesthetics...
too many toys for the the children
with too many sandpits...

- because i would rather the fascination
with a language... than its immediate...
polyglot acquisition and use...
if i put my head to it... perhaps i could
speak the 7 languages my great-grandfather spoke
before jumping into the Niagara Falls
leaving a postcard sent...
but when i peer into the details...
i quiet like these two trenches of mine...
this english this canvas and my eye toward
the east and the south and semites...
just because english is a language without
diacritical markers...
a language filled with metaphysical dialectics:
but missing any mention of orthography...

a hebrew might hide a vowel...
and write only consonants on street signs
for a gentile to read...
but then the gentiles' languages morphed...
and a vowel became distinct...
there is A that begins the word: ah-men...
but there's also an A that is invoked with a tail
to point and identify a tree, an oak:
dąb...
so much for kametz being hidden...
if there's no 2nd tier "complexity" of kametz...
but there is one for the visible...
A - vowel - a vowel with a tail...
but without a name -
as all letters are - whether vowel or consonant...
in the litany and choir of the castratos
of ancient Rome...

pause with me...
what music are you listening to?
i'm listening to... years of denial - burning sun
(veyl channel) - 1,319 views...
i like to... find the better alleys of my entertainment...
as i can't hate kevin spacey...
not because of kevin spacey...
but because of lester burnham...
or more to the point...
why thomas newman reminds me of a...
reincarnation of Satie...
not a Chopin or a Liszt virtuoso of the piano...
not a when a hammer strikes
a line of 88 nails...
but when a butterfly chances the here and there,
on a shy-loot of a beauty of scarce sounds...
just the same of nostalgia for this era of
movies borrows me from out any new
suspence... as that sort of nostalgia creeping
into people born in the 1960s who truly
admire h'american movies from the 1950s...
even i am to blame when i feed
a nostalgia - more to the point for the technicolour
acryllic glow akin to...
richard quine's 1958 bell book and candle...
but of course scandinavian existential cinema
of a Bergman would be in black and white...
black and white photographs...
but if we're talking movies?
Undogmatic & Kernfeld - thought experiments...
Amanti d'oltretomba (1965)...

i will have to refine the greek to hebrew to greek
similarities...
an Ezra Pound can hide behind counting
matchsticks and reading into chinese ideograms...
when lo and behold! some japanese *******
comes up with a minimalism of the on'yomi...
or perhaps japanese is a language
that fuses elements of braille?
no point question the matter since
the mongols famously didn't come over to Japan
to add to the already Mandarin caste of
the kun'yomi...

but no... these greek letters are nouns...
even though π is equivalent to understanding
the wheel a posteriori: as a circle -
prior to there was only a wheel but no
knowledge of the dynamic of the radius,
or the diameter...
but it's still a prefix weak hardly a noun...
alpha and beta are nouns because they
denote something - prefix category shared -
but... the alpha and the beta male...
even gamma rays...
what's that? π-networks of coming back
to point (0, 0) in terms of:
no more than three powers of seperation between
you and some random from hugh yawn'khh?
my bad...
but η, μ, ν, ξ, π, ρ (ρ requires delta epsilon
and sigma to imply island of Rhodes)...
τ - but this is not China and tau is not Tao...
to tow is... to tow...
φ, χ, ψ... these could be names...
but ψ is like a crucifix for psychologists...
so these are... but at the same time:
are not names...
working from Latin, "borrowed"...
A (or aye)... B (queen bee)... C (i çee)...
D (dye or dry or d.i.y.)... E (eh? vowel catcher
arm no. 1 of the tetragrammaton)...
surd if the other arm... most notably in gujarati...
or not...
but this leftoever ancient Latin:
                                sing along! sing along!
a, be, cee, dee, e, ef, gee, h "hatch" / hay,
i, jay, kay, em, en, o, ***, que queue cue,
Ar, Tee, U, Vee, ekhs (x), why (y), zee or general Zod /
Zed... etc.
do i remember the "correct", french pedagogic
sequences of: letters of the alphabet?
i thought the whole "game" was about
the lexicon? and the lexicon within the lexicon
of the correct spelling?
are there 26 letters in the english alphabet?
there are! mein gott!
do i have to monkey-play-me-harmonica -
monkey-play-me-the-acordeon and tap to play
the drums... really? now?!
there were never going to be any alphabetical
sequence of events...
if i can remember that there are 26 letters:
the order of the pedagogues doesn't matter...
the lexicon matters... one's own vo(gue)-ca-bu-Larry...
short of Lawrence...
and shouldn't i give up my Lawrence Vogue...
i will certainly to remember to give
the "correct" order of what begins
with abc- and ends with -xyz...
this is the inbetween...
please see fit to spot a sparrow or a typo...

becuase if the british are to be proud of their past...
proud in the sense that it is...
fermenting and all this decline of the west "thing"...
of the people that has to "somehow" welcome
a revival... кaцaпы (plural of кaцaп)
is a racial slurr - designated for russians...
by those who had a pseudo-isarel interlude...
of what was known as the polish-lithuanian
commonwealth - of the last european pagans -
who didn't become the prussians
and made the bavarian spirit rigid
and militaristic...

i find this part of history... rather... infantile...
i have been taught a version of history
through the lense of infantalism...
perhaps science-fiction was the serious medium
of literature after all -
all of the past - if it is to be called a past -
is prescribed by zeitgeist -
my contemporaries' suggestion to be an infatile dream!
it must be a version of infantilism!
at least: that's my response in relation to:
the past having any aspect of being worth
celebrated...
me struck dumb being coerced by a...
genetic archieology of a past...
what some of the current people invest in...
mirror mirror: on no wall beside
mirror mirror: my face...
speculum speculum: well! there's always history
as etymology!
i don't like the word faciem...
where does visage come from?
oh... right...

quest to perfect the algorithms to escape
the everyday speculum was prime suspicion:
to speculate...
i guess any search engines requires:
etymological root...

mirror mirror: my void eating face...
my pulpit of vanity -
my valley of aeons...
my detail of the smirk the demonic glee...
of your most greyish glee...
of no concern for celebrated beauty...
or at best: no beauty to be exemplified
and stealing memory having invested
in the memory of cinema...
mirare mirare: comesse vacare visage meum...

now that's rather different...
isn't it? a history lesson with...
a stress for a post-scriptum in-and-out
"epilogues" (misnomer) and a return
from the trivia interlude back into the narrative...
only with an understudy of etymology...

who do i look like? some ******* ***
who would use such a ***** word as epistemology?
"epilogue" is a misnomer in the context when...
there was never a justifiable metaphor...
a misnomer is a metaphor:
for the **** by the ocean of the shore
in the vicinity to claim town status - Dover -
albino cliffs: more or less...
epistemology is a word most frequently used
by people... who read to people...
encyclopedic entries... cyclopes reading...
all that matters is the cwowd: which is the Velsh
variation of: that already numb-R lost trill
of tarantula bit anglo-ßaß...
which didn't require zeppelins or h'american
spaghetti accent westerns of draw and drule
and drawl...

such a minor racial slur when it comes
to the russians... soviets or red barons...
you must have never visited Moscow or St. Petersburg...
**** the right sort of ******-up russian girl...
and... if you're lucky!
she's take you to... the russian versailles!
Peterhof -
the racial slur stills remains...
a thank you matka rosiya...
satellite son over 'ere: the bellowing from Berlin
is like a sudden plague of hyenas attempting...
no... the foxes are imitating the hyenas...
which is which or rather: which is why?
a mutual agreement: reciprocated...
a great a great much decent ****...
for both of us...
the memory still feeds me...
oh no, it doesn't haunt me:
it feeds me... i could only find replicas
in brothels... i would never dare usurp
this catherine this tsarina of my memory...
i would never dare invest my personality in someone
else... she can be married her... 3rd time...
and this might be her 10th repentence...
of an 11th lover...
on this sinking ship: Potemkin i go as one -
reincarnation or no...
i still don't believe: this hindu myth of:
only a fixed number of people were every to be
born... and the rest are the harsh realities
of the base focuses of animals...
as we somehow drag these n.p.c. mysterions with
us... whether strangers or fathers or mothers...
are you not attached to your grandson:
dearest "catherine"?

such is the tyrany of the hindu polygamy
trans-temporal polytheism...
a diadem with a mouth for an eye...
and an eye for a mouth: or what better way
to salvage this grief of being only being 20 and 21
when having met and having to vow to
allow ourselves our each his and her seperate
lives...
at least some people call it:
the house of lords... and the house of commons...
on a much grander scale...
oh i'm pretty sure tsar (ras)Putin is much amused...

as i am now speaking with a borrowed tongue:
someone lent me a tongue -
i desired to speak with it -
imagine this complete lack of horror with regards
to being lent -
when reicarnation comes to the fore...
i agree: with "him": a most disagreeable
metaphor for... whatever it is the hindus truly believe
to be: the most humane form of
being allowed a human: self-consciousness
and a relationship to all those teenage
*****-dear-diary entries of... precursors
to the menapause and... the blue blood gremlins
of the big pharma pills-down...
the big pharma *******...

unless asked... always in uniform before your "majesty"...
as with any decent *******...
god forbid one of them thinks i'm jesus christ...
come back...
but never with these... grey-area maidens...
this "tool" will not be aroused
on the simple signature end contract promise
of: he made it to the finish line of a one-night stand!
where's the finish line of a one-night stand?
the next day? the *******, the *******...
her ******? at least the new generation
have the... cipher password for sexting...
or whatever has become of a good old fashioned
**** your brains out?
via you **** a plum sore tattoo into my pelvis
with your coccyx like a well balanced
african body of ivory beauty?!
you know the type... it looks like butter
in moonlight... like... what's the point of a niqab
in africa?! it's already... a warewolf has come
among the wolves...
and how i miss you, i esp. miss you when
i sit on my windowsill and listen to foxes
mating...
how those ******* squeal yank and bite nothing
but bone having omitted both the flesh
and the fur!
i miss you the most when i sit at night -
and listen to foxes mating;
after all... this is essex... this is england...
foxes at around 1am are my cognac...
beside ms. amber: and you know you'll also
be ******* her when i've had my fill...
but oooh... look at me: oooh...
gravy...
but i've watched! crows don't attempt fucky-fucky
tow-dollar sucky-sucky bangkokh style
during the die... all that is black that's worth
the crow is done in the night...
perverted pigeons during the day!
****-*******-me-into-a-voyeurism of their
greedy insect esque antics of coo coo...
then jump onto the rucksack of a female...
and all those beta-male pigeons... and that: huh?!
moment of bewilderement when he "thinks"
he has cooed like an alpha...
only the memory of you...
and all the prostitutes after you...
which always made imagining ******* you again
all that more simple; there was no кaкaшкa
with them to begin with.
Rivers Kay Dec 2015
They, where just two kids. She was so new to the world he lived in and she waltzed in like she was looking to win a prize. MAYBE just maybe, she did.

No one knew nothing of her. Naomi, Naomi Quinn was her name. She was by far the most beautiful disaster he had ever laid eyes on. Naomi didn’t ever have it all but she made the most what little she did have. At least she tried and sometimes she broke and when she broke her skin would separate with a close of the eyes and just one swipe. As simple as she seemed her story was not.
Mommy and daddy where known as just some people she used to know. Not around much to stop the tears and certainly not to see her pain. She relied on her best friend. Winnie was sweet and Winnie would never back down from stopping the hurt that Naomi had to deal with every day. The names, the hits, the pushes, the shoves. No one asked Naomi how her days where or how she felt. No one but Winnie. Winnie was cautious of every step anyone took towards Naomi simply because she knows how delicate she is.
A normal day was just Winnie and Naomi each school day and weekend until the kid with the big brown eyes showed up. He walked with a mind of certainty and he talked with a purpose. Brown hair and a great smile. Tall and handsome with a name that seems to make her want to melt. Spencer Ray was not the kind to fall for a girl like Naomi. Spencer was confident and loved by anyone and everyone.
On a normal day the girl went to school and the girls they went home, but this day was different. The skies where bright the air felt fresh and the day was good. Naomi freezes mid- sentence next to Winnie rendered speechless. He stands there speaking as she blinds but does not awaken. A dream, she must be dreaming but she’s not. Spencer speaks to her. Why her? “Dinner at 8?” spencer questions the look he receives from Naomi and with just a blink of an eye he—wait nope he’s still there. Spencer asks a new question “how does a walk on the beach sound?” With just a nod of her head it’s a date.
“What do I say? What do I wear? Why me? Is this a joke?” Naomi panics completely forgetting Winnie is still there she sits down and just sits and sits and sits.  Naomi sits until she figures out an outfit and she figures out what to say and she walks only after Seeing Winnie leaving in a car of a friend.
Racing home with a pounding heart she arrives only shortly before Spencer does too. In Jean shorts and a purple tank-top she hears the door and takes a breath. With a ragged old blue t-shirt and cargo shorts he hands her a flower and escorts her to the car.
The ocean breeze and the smell of his cologne with her hair down and hand in a pocket while the other dangles freely, he grabs it. Like the waves creeped up with not a noise made, her breathe is shortened. They stop and watch as the waved crash and the sun set as the sky turns darker for the night to sneak quickly. Not a word said all night then he speaks “Such a beautiful sight.” Naomi turns to see where he is looking as he is already staring into her eyes. “I have always loved the ocean its…” Naomi begins to say as spencer grabs her quickly and kisses her. On the third set past the white steps Spencer speaks the words “I wasn’t talking about the ocean” and he kisses her once more.
Weeks they pass and they begin to be in Love. Something Naomi would have never thought to know. Then something happens. The sweet loving kisses turn to loud hateful screams and the warming hugs turn to forceful shoves. Through this all Naomi stays not matter the many protests of Winnie. As this goes on Naomi becomes less strong and one day Naomi broke. Feeling like a failure she looks to spencer for comfort and all she seems to receive is question after question. “Why did you do it? How could you do that? Why are you like this?” With a response of a quiet sobbing “sorry” Naomi breaks once more.
Doing the one thing he swore not to do Spencer leaves for weeks. Naomi breaks and breaks and breaks. Weeks go bye and he calls. “I’m leaving you here with no return you are not my love I hope this won’t hurt.”
She thought she would make it. She was so strong but what’s there to do how should she move on? Bewildered destroyed once again by the one who held her together for so long. A best friend the one she loved and now what does this mean? Worthless? Replaced? Was she always JUST a friend?
The night it was cold and the skies had no stars the rain it poured down and she stood there looking at the ground. One two three four Just a couple more. Put them in swallow them all and right before the fall……..one last breathe…she jumps …
They never knew of her she was the background they all say but never questioned. Mommy and daddy where just some people she used to know. Her best friend she was the best that there was. The boy she once loved gets looked down on from above now with wondrous-hatred and tears in the eyes that loved like a fool.
Not until she was gone did they question her long sleeves and why she wore pants in the summer. They began to see all of her pain and all her troubles. They learned what they lost and it won’t be back tomorrow.
Falling, loving, sorrow and pain. Close of the eyes, pinch on the skin, just one swipe and that was the end.
“Separation of the skin”


Love you, Never Forget
I grew up knowing to accept hate
It was a childhood version of how to segregate
Children were never kind to me through the years
Forming more hate that built up and filled with fears
I was lucky compared to most kids though
I never had a true taste of hate I had yet to know
In the past kids were segregated for their race
It was as if this entire world bashed them for taking up some space
The entire nation was once split in two
Brother after brother is something we all knew
The north and south each all fighting for something not alike
But that only made the hope of happiness winning to begin to spike
A great man stood in the great battle field between us all
Un-segregating those who needed it afterall
He was shot dead fighting for what he wanted
Some people really didn't know his hopes and they felt daunted
Today we fight another battlefield of pain
Thought must of this fighting is in vain
A man took the lives of many Americans twelve years ago
Destroyed the very being of America that we used to know
When the depression ran throught the nation
We still had to deal with all of the segregation
It ran through all of us as people living in peace
Chopping us up as humans without need piece by piece
Another war is in sight though we choose not to see it
A fatal blow to many of us as if we got hardly hit
Seperation throught the nation through segregation in our own eye
Whether we be gay, straight, trans, or even bi
We're all still people and still human
If only we truly knew about it then
I grew up in a world free of most types of hate
But we all knew we all live in a world who chooses to segregate
This is like my own rant in poem form, or a slam poem as some call it. So it is all true. First time attempt at one of these, so... yeah.
Rai Oct 2015
She wants to feel the softness of feathers upon the tips of her toes
Reaching out for comfort that will surely come
She caresses the moments before midnight
With suger kisses so sweet
Like honey coated forgiveness
She smiles into her lovers eyes of crystal dew
Beyond
Her sences reeling
Twirling, dancing
Like the figurine within an ancient music box
As the music surrounds the childs mind so pure
And yet
There is more captured within
The sweetness is soured only by memories
She paints with fingers in the suger
To forget
There are things so worth forgetting
She sees him sleeping and places
mirrors where his eyes once looked upon her
For now she will see herself
The way he see's
The blood from the girl child dried as he slept
There was to be no more sugered moments
No more honey for him to savour
she had seen
Her worth in his eyes
Such a shame sweet child
She should of loved herself with toes touching feathers
Reaching for a comfort
That would only be found in forgiveness of self
Far beyond the place he sleeps
With mirrored eyes of crystal dew

He awakes to find his beloved drenthed in death
He reaches for moments which never come
Her projection of him so false upon this moment
As in a moments seperation
She sees with her angel presence
The suger he tastes on lips so pure
His tears now mingle with the blood
As he tears her mirrors from his eyes
He understands not
The reason
Why white feathers are falling from the sky
midnight prague Nov 2010
I dont know how I let this certain mist evaporate in my catastrophic realm
out of all the things I have held on to

I let you go

waves flowing through my obscured destruction
I was left without a doubt
that your eyes didnt belong here
that your scent shouldnt linger on my clothing everday until you left

I would never want to get aquinted with it
what would I do when I smelt like myself again instead of you

being around you was like finally breathing fresh air
after living in black water suffocated
this I have gotten use to
but I had a taste of what is was like to breathe otherwise to have my eyes cleared of the blurry film
--

and it hurt
so much more than where I stood before

to have it taken away from me at such short notice
you might never even know young gentlemen the impact you had

on my cold fragile little soul

but I will never forget

your air will always linger around me even if its sways behind a million other thoughts
SoulSwirl Jan 2012
There's a pain in my back.
Moved my arm to touch you
and feel the clouded steam shovel
rip into what grounded me.
Roll over and save it for that rainy day
that may never ***.

That's funny cause i thought
you were so warm yesterday.
Hank Pym Oct 2016
No matter what our races were...

Over four score and seven years ago
We the people of the United States of America
Had pledged our allegiance
And written our John Hancocks
For the country that we love
It gives me life, liberty, and happiness
But after all, a little rebellion now and then is a good thing

And I have a dream
That it will get even better
For all men are created equal
This poem was made in a specific way.  In the second stanza, every line is made up of a famous White American quote.  These were put first to show the superiority of whites in many people's eyes.
Then in the third stanza, I put the famous African American quote, "I have a dream" showing what is to come for other races.
I finish the poem with "all men are created equal," a famous white patriot quote that also shows white support for the idea of the equality.  I have disregarded the final line's original historical intention and that it was directed for only white men.

This poem might express some argument but I want to express what I feel.  After all, poetry is expression of emotion. :-)
I imagine myself, one of them, some of them.
I break down the shield that keeps me
in the shallow water.
That open vast expanse of you and I
that flows on forever
sliding in and out of boundaries,
of consciousness.
Life beats down upon me, as a hail storm
might beat upon the concrete
its cracks imbedded with the spark of life.
That brown and green of
Soil and its brainchild.
I am so alone and so together;
so very different than what life has become:
reliving and reliving
my experiences.
Published in the 2010 Pasco Hernando Community College Literary Magazine: Mobius.
aviisevil May 2016
standing on the edge
waiting to fall
tears don't speak of the ill
they don't whisper at all
in silence i break my part
how many times
have i begged you apart
don't you hear me
when I'm screaming your name
how is it
that we're strangers again
with nothing to speak
words don't mean the same
too tired to leave
slowly falling in love with the pain
i remember when we used to
forget everything else
and since I've lost you
i'm somebody else
picking up the pieces
that no longer fit the same
holding my breath
until you leave once again
for another eternity
Maya Caroline Dec 2012
And I swear it’s you
in every pair of eyes I see

every laugh I hear

every touch I feel

every sideways glance

I’m looking for your
face in the crowd.
Vampyre Kato May 2016
Free Time I'm 3 Mind
Right Now No Rewinds
Im In A Place With A Numbered Race
I Don't See Time
I'm On The Beach In The Sandy C
The Waves Gaze Does Some Something To Me
Colorado Creeks
The Peaks Steep
Its A Warn Snug Hug In A Winter Scene
Trees So Green
Life Is Beautiful Let It Be
Take An 8th To Outer Sprace
SHrooms Will Wake & Help You See
No Window No Screen
The Vaunaruble Honorable
Behind Intolerable Screams
I Don't Ask Why
Although I Question Every Thing
Like Some Will Hearing The Real
Like What Does He Mean
7 Beam Extreme Connecting Wings
With Streems
The Moon It Glows Shows In My Dream
Embers In December
Sniker Doodle Ice Cream
I Turtle Through Threw Black Flames
I Scream Opera In Acid Rain
Green Heart Enlarged With Beings That
Riase
Harmonic Rays
Life Is Just 1 Really Long Day
The Sun & Moon
Please Our Moods
Shift To Okay When We Wake
Mother Earth Father Sky
Hyper Dimensional Presence
Suggest Leverage Where Are We Headed
Orion's Belt Tell It
No Seperation Through My Perception
Idea Is Were Passing Through
To Learn A Few More Lesssions
We Become Creators
& Make Our Own Heaven
Focus On Interactions In The Present
Its A Present
Not Back When
Don't Stress If It Went Unexpected
You'll For Get It
I'm A Light Pole
& My Nights Glow
Vindeseal On A Mountain Peak
In The Theatere Show Riddick
When Ego Egals
Were Awesome We Blossom
Gardens With Silver Grass & Purple Trees
Green Leaves
Mushrooms Stuck In My Teeth
Its 3 Sun Gazing
Amazing I Don't Need To Eat
I Don't Like Sock & Shoes On My Feet
I Don't See Fashion Queens & Kings
Fresh Hygiene & I Mean Neat
My ***** Smell Better Than My Breath
Might Be Mushrooms That Nest In My Cheecks
Lightning All Through This Skin & Flesh
My Current Complete
Light Poles In The Sea Fliker
When I Swimm Passed With My Mermaids
& Tea
Vibrating At My Highest Frequency
In tune With My Key
Universal Downloads I'm All Know
I Don't Suppose That I Read
Oh Then My Ideas Are Wrong
What's That Supposed To Mean
I'm A Consciousness Projecting
A Cognitive
Your A Controlling Opertive Inside Your Idols Jeans
Bianry Beats Healing My DNA
Okay Transcending Our Genes
Energy ***** Are Ways To Make Calls
No Electrical Subliminal Mind Altering
Things
I See A Dream Like Old Filmed On A Beach Black & White Sceene Type In My Minds Eye & The Swings Drys
No Body Sitting Down But It Looks Like The Place To Be, Place Of Peace, A Space To Lay A Quilt Down Eat & Drink, A Safe Place To Sleep  Die Or Even Drown
My Emtions Are Oceans Of Potions
Although I Am Miss Underatood
Its All Good
I'm A Head Of My Time
I Won't Come Down From Ethers
Who I Am Is Not On This Ground
But The Pen Js So My Lyrics
Seriously The Only Thing Coming Down
If I Seem Distant When People Come Close
I'm Still Listing In Side Of Your Soul
My Verbal Emotions Are To Giant Their Silent
When Projected So,
If My Response Seems Of Its Not I Promise Inide I'm Feeling More Than What's Out Side
I Am Deeper Than The Sea Floor
Higher Than The Clouds Depth
I See More Fire On The Mountain Set
I Don't Need A Monk To Confirm & Bow His Head I'm True To Me Till This Owls Dead
Not Dressing Up
No Cap & Gown
No Towel Head
Intentions To Lessen Defesive
& Seperation
If Over My Words Your Ofensded With Verbs
You Sizzle Like Saton
Its Obsersd Cos The Physical Is Just
Communication
I Am Here To Do Me
I Don't Need To Bleed An Explanation
Or Reciece ForgiveNess
Our Mission Is Sacred
Kato Telsa
37 Sages
Johnnie Rae Mar 2013
I like this.
This freeing feeling.
Being away from you,
Has somehow let me,
Become new.

Now, I'm realizing,
That you were a crutch.
Enabling me,
My pain.

Because when there was a "we"
There wasn't..
It was you,
And me,
Two people,
Tangled in thorn bushes of distrust.

I'm not saying I didn't love you.
I'm not saying I don't now.
I'm just thinking,
Maybe it was leaning,
More towards infatuation.
Which led to strangulation.
Suffocation.
No breathing.
Wire ties, tied so tight,
They cut the skin,
And left us wounded,
Openly bleeding.

Maybe we were meant for seperation.
A trial, meant for error,
Maybe we were meant to hurt,
Feel the pain we caused eachother,
And learn,
Then make better choices based on the lesson,
And so on.

Maybe being together,
Taught us its better that we're apart.
And also, that after awhile,
The pain stops coming back,
And we learn to move on,
Like I'm finally starting to.
Because let's face it,
I said I was fine,
But I was practically dead for a while,
Faking a smile for your benefit,
And crying behind the comfort of closed doors.
Turning up the radio way too loud,
And screaming until my throat was raw.

Why do you think I wouldn't sing for you?
Even after I promised to.
Not only the nervousness,
But, also being scared that you'd notice,
Notice the difference in my voice,
When I try to hit the higher notes.
I've screamed myself sick so many times,
My voice has changed,
There's a certain aspect to it,
The over all raspy tone,
And it would have killed me for you to notice.

For the longest time,
I was so afraid of you peeling back the layers,
And seeing the reckless hatred for myself,
But now, I honestly don't care.
I will cry and scream, and just let it go from now on.
Because I can no longer live in hiding.
I'm done.
And not just hiding from you, either.
Everyone.

I will roll my sleeves up,
And take these ******* bracelets off.
I will no longer be ashamed of these marks I've created.
They do not define me.
I am not that girl anymore.
She was never me.
And I will never again become her.
You know why?
Because for the first time,
In a long time,
I'm ******* free.
All because of a little bit of seperation,
And mental disconnection.
Sara Beth Cannon Apr 2017
Never again will I let myself be someone's back up plan.

I was a back burner, in the shadows, half forgotten back up plan. The last thing to be thought about, and the person to be considered least. I was a placeholder to keep the loneliness and isolation at bay.

All I wanted in life was to be made to feel wanted. To finally be able to claw my way up the priority list. Maybe that's what it was.

I was not a priority.

I was nice to have around. Convenient.

I mean, distance, seperation, empty promises... I took all of it. But not only did I take it, I returned it with love, patience, loyalty. I gave time, money, energy.

Everything I had.

Everything that made me who I was as a person.

In fact, I gave so much that I lost who I was. I forgot what it was to be...me.

So when he left, when I was no longer convenient to him, he took everything with him. My laughter, my joy, my ability to find the silver lining in any situation. He took my faith, my trust, my belief in others...

But, he did leave me with something at least.

He left me with a shattered life. He left me with trust issues. With depression, and anxiety attacks at work. He left me with more tears than can be counted and endless empty tissue boxes. He left me with a shell of who I once was.

And he was gone.

I guess when it's not a priority, it's easy to leave. When the one person who sacrificed everything she had...who gave every piece of herself.

But, HE was his priority.

So no. Never again. I will never be a back pocket, third place, maybe one day girl. I will never let myself beg for affection and love again. I will NEVER be made to feel unwanted. Forgettable. Disposable.

I want to be wanted. I want to be THE priority. Because when you truly love someone, they will always be your priority.

Otherwise, you never loved them at all.

Just the convenience of them.
Wendy Feb 2015
August;
Afraid, and lurking in corners at 2:00 a.m.
In search of ***, in search of someone to make love to me,
but nothing compares to that one time it had happened before.
Yelling out at 3:00 a.m. how much I had wanted it,
at 3:30 how much I regretted it as I abused my skin in the powder room.
Oh regret, still showing up for my duties but some switch had
made itself know to myself before my consciousness..
I had begun to seek fulfillment,
the likes of which I had never known before.
My birthday comes and passes with a woopdy doo,
and a firm lack of caring.
Still I try,
and still the she-demon inside lurks...dragging me into alleys
into selling my heart for a thrill of being wanted.
October;
I am still with this man....but something is wrong with me...
I have begun to play and it hurts me however
the seperation and the dissonance begin to build
this wall comes up around me and the emotions that still
reside for my loved ones in my home valleys of Texas.
I meet the realization of my demon,
smelling sweet with a hint of Chlorox and Coke,
cleansing me of my pain, here I
come home to my hills and blue skys high,
and I feel so tainted...but so full and lacking at the same time the more time I spend without her sweet enthusiasm pumping into me.
Killing time and hearts on a ranch in West Texas,
******* in the fields giving my heart a wrenching once I realize
that I am resembling the one who gave me this poison...
the one who nudged me off the deep end.
Punishing an innocent man,
and torturing a criminal with ****** games, and false loyalty.
I had become the grotesque...the bitter woman....
my love and impassioned glances growing dry
day by day.
No one cares.
The beginning of a poetic description of a time in my life.
JL Apr 2015
I am too bold the obsession of our seperation
A child torn from childhood shattered hourglass
In her eyes I see myself swinging from a limb
Her words tying the noose and the smiles pull it tight
She would have me gasping goodbyes spittle laced
Bullet hot fingers tracing the blown out blue veins
Dopesick for her cracked lips I would lick them clean of venom
But she is too bold for such infatuation
She would rather pick the lock
The cage in my chest where  it quietly rests
One yellow eye open fangs glimmer scarlet hues
Her neck hangs back in laughter
Nape porcelaind frail statuesque
She would snap my fingers
Like a branch and I would laugh
At pain syringed and sterile
Alcohol stained breath
I think you've  found the sweet spot
Hot barrel to my temple
Do me one last favor
Release me from this tabernacle
Facing the Gorgon
Gem S Sep 2013
Chests rise and fall
Hearts exchange in each others eyes
Whispers leap into gaping ears
A hand gestures a new idea
Body presses closer in acceptance.
One more whisper leaps-
But lands with a pound
Bruising the sound of a pleasantry
A **** back.
A blank stare.
A tight jaw.
Exclamation points,
capital letters etch across the mind.
A desperation for distance,
seperation,
withdrawal.
Assemble a  new language to be decoded.
A worry,
A curiousity,
Voices dance in irregular beats.
Then seize.
Clasp.
Waltz.
Tia Henricks Jun 2015
It was not a choice, intimacy filled our souls touching every tender bone with the sleekness of silk
From blood to bone
Screeching every bit of emptiness
Swallowing any shallow monster that tended to our loneliness
From tongue to toes
Not a desperation hollows between the beauty of embrace,
A world around slows, all disspearing to his sweet kisses stealing my breath
And addiction sets in, an instant craving when distance is your temporary belonging  
And addiction such as a cigarette
Smoke filling your lungs
Only intimacy filling you heart with bright yellow flowers, desperation fulfils its duty.
Seperation, our anxiety
With howling winds a cooling breaths that is not yours every moon and star looks like you
Intimacy, a passion
A passion in touch for your hand wrapped round mine
  The sound to be dragged so close it fuses as one beat
To be brought to the insides
Craving the sense of settled home in unfamiliar places
A hunger to never leave
Bur to fall to the deepest pockets in our wholesome loving souls
Just to come back again
Ariella Cynder Oct 2016
Welcome to America, in 2016.
Where "all lives matter"
Except Syrian refugees
Where you can't even breathe
Without offending somebody.
Where parents are taken from their children,
Because of the color of their skin.
Where we normalize police brutality.
Where you can be a racist,
And still run for president.
Where injustice is served, with a side of GMOs.
Where the citizens of Flint have been without clean water for how long?
Who knows.
Our minds are diluted by capitalism and celebrities.
Where people will look at you crazy for saying,
"Save the bees"
Meanwhile they're out there, planning WWIII.
When you're told "your vote counts!"
But we're stuck with Trump & Hillary.
Where women on the red carpet are glamorous and sexualized,
But if you're ***** they'll ask,
"Well what were you wearing that night?"
A guy selling marijuana will serve his whole life.
Whereas Brock Turner was released in what felt like overnight.
Where white privilege has never been more real.
And our generation is learning that
"You're weak if you feel."
People being told we have nothing to fear,
Meanwhile the media is controlling what we hear.
People fighting for clean water, as if that wasn't our God-given right.
Our women are afraid to walk home alone at night.
You can work 40 hours a week, and still not make enough to live.
But if you ask for government assistance, you're a "lazy *******."
When in reality, it's just enough to feed your kids.
The Elite have created this illusion of seperation.
They have torn us apart as a world, and as a nation.
The color of our skin doesn't make us any different.
I promise you can love someone who practices a clashing religion.
Underneath it all, we're all the same.
All this person on person violence just makes us pawns in their game.
We should be coming together as humans, who have lost their humanity.
Maybe this all makes my "liberal."
But in all honesty, the current state of the world has me questioning my sanity.
Love thy neighbor, respect their spirit.
Or we won't be around much longer to experience it.

Welcome to America in 2017.
We forgot how to love one another so we were wiped out, mercilessly.
If only we had come together before we tore ourselves apart.
If we remember who we are,
We can be our own light in the dark.
The movement starts with one.
Mahadin Oct 2013
Love vis-a-vis Hate ..
Electric storm sweep the planet Love from Moon ,
thousand light years passed ..
a blue heart stuck under a big stone on Mars..
Souls floating on the cosmic sea ..
muffled scream, heart socking ,bleeding love
in cosmic UV Rays ...

Secret desires Lost in milky ways ,
wishes  barried in space...
Big bang changed the Universe ...
Love blind universe.... as if a landscape of tears ..

Hearts eagered ... skipped beating ,
in every disconnection of retinas ..
Our hearts failed to colide ...
explosion caused us seperation .

Cosmic vibration...
Waiting for another big bang ..
A new stelar structure .
where every galaxy ,planet ,
milky way axis to love ..
Evolution of a new Universe  Love ...
Apocalyptic of ' Hate '...world...
Blue heart got his soloar system back
with planet love and moon in orbit...

By Mahi -Galaxy
www.mahadin.co.uk
Brian Carson Oct 2013
She spat blood from swallowing rust
and I drank it up from a paper cup
then poured in some of mine from a paper cut
no matter how much we drank it was never enough
I broke a mirror and walked through a wall
she followed the trail of blood and licked it all
wrapped me in newspapers, then turned on the skill saw
ran the blade across her fingers, drained the blood down my throat through my broken jaw
I drift out on a paddle boat into the abyss of my mind
as I see her across the water on a cliff near the power lines
holding a vacuum cleaner and a coyote spine
the fog sits on the lake during this seperation between life and time
I watch from space as she closes my eyes
almost drained, she lays beside me to die
with our hands entwined
confined in a room during this seperation between life and time
Flower Scent Nov 2010
a misty reflection
in the mirror
of  life

a fragile shadow
on  the wall
of boundaries

a deep echo
in the tunnel
of thoughts

a soft whisper
in  the voice
of dreams

a broken emotion
in the beat
of hearts

a flashback
in  nightmares
of death

a roller coaster
in  the subconscious
of minds

a thunder storm
in  dilemma
of souls

a water mark
in  the  shade
of light

an immersion of words
in a baptism
of truth

an ultraviolet ray
in a shattered prism
of glass

a moonless sky
in presumption
of total eclipse

a tempting apple
in the garden
of forbidness

a holy angel
in   dark joy
of sacred sin

an ardent paramour
in fervent yearning
of passion

a jealous lover
in distruction
of love

a stop watch
in the beginning
of time

a deep crack
in the crust
of  the earth

an earthquake
in the seizmic core
of hot lava

a forest path
in a wild  jungle
of tamed lions


a gold circle
in waterfalls
of a crazy affair

a wave of trust
in the vast ocean
of betrayal

a soften glacier
on the bedrock
of seperation

a chequers game
in bereavement
of a king

a monopoly
in the loss
of forever

a white swan
in the well
of a lake

a weeping petal
of a daisy
in last goodbye

a new today
in yesterday's
tomorrow

a big question mark
on the edge
of destiny.

— The End —