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Yenson Sep 2018
Woof.....woof.....woof...woof....woof....wooof

Some Red setters dogs are eating Jewish people
in England
But why, do call them off, they are british people,
The are hard working, Industrious, Entrepreneurs,
Professors, Doctors, Lawyers, Bankers, Entertainers
Scientists, Writers, eminent Surgeons, Artists, these
are nice Britons....stop the dogs, stop the dogs.....

Woof....woof....woof.....woof.....woof...woof woof

Some Red Setters dogs are eating and biting some
Labour MPs all over the country

But why, do call off the dogs, No! we have a list and this list,  highlighted the behaviour of a number of Left MPs, including Jess Phillips for telling Corbyn’s ally Diane Abbott to “*******”, John Woodcock for dismissing the party leader as a “******* disaster” and Tristram Hunt for describing Labour as “in the ****”
and all the other hard working Moderate MPs who dared protest at Anti-Semitic stance or supported the Jews .

Woof.....woof....woof....woof.....woof.....woof...woof

Some Red Setters dogs are devouring some minor
Royal from Africa

But why, do call off the dogs. No that ****** has a big ****, he's
Charismatic, intelligent, wholesome, has good work ethics, polite,
wise, charming, generous, witty and a ****** good lover and to top it all he's Royal. Now that's ******* GREEDY, how much can a
******* man have. NO! he's a goner. He is too perfect, he must be hounded and persecuted to death.

Woof....woof....woof.....woof.....woof.....woof.......woof
Grrr­.....woof.....Grrrrr....woof...wooof...Grrrr....wooof

Congratula­tions People, we have got rid of them all
we now have real democracy, we have a real society now
Get in the dogs ... And all you useless ******* people shut up!
And report to the Labor Camps 7:30a.m. tomorrow
You're Working Class and now you ****** have to work!
Chuka Umunna says Labour has become an institutionally racist organisation as evident from those MPs and members forced out of Labour under Jeremy Corbyn, and he urged the leader to “call off the dogs”.
Grandad's gone.
He's still with us, but....he's gone...if you understand me correctly.  Hasn't been with us for a few years. We thought it funny at first, till we realized what was happening. Then it dawned on us....he didn't know us anymore. Lifetime's of memories....events, holidays, pictures, kisses, hugs and laughter....and only we could remember them. When we told him about them, he would smile and stare away...trying to find them in his mind, with no luck.


When it started, he was telling me about a dog that he had heard about. A poyne setter, he called it. I told him, I'd never heard of it. He couldn't tell me what it looked like, just what it was called. When I looked it up on the internet, the closest I found to it, was the plant...a poinsetta. I told him it was a funny joke, but he got mad. Told me he saw it on a dog  show on television, it was a dog, a Poyne Setter, and he was angry at me.

Not long after that, every time he saw me, he said "Anne, can you do this for me? or Anne, can you get me that?". My name is Sarah, Anne is my Aunty. She's been gone since 1963, car crash. I'm not Anne. I thought he was doing it to make fun of me for the Poyne Setter thing. He wasn't. We were losing him.

He talked a lot about the early sixties, kept on calling me Anne. I put up with it, because for every time he messed up my name, after a short spell, he'd get it right and we'd be fine.

A few weeks back, it happened again. I  hadn't been around for a while and he sat there, looking out at the sea from the porch, when suddenly he turned to me and said "Anne...I need you to find me something". I said sure Grandad...he didn't notice.
"I want you to find me one of those sweaters they keep talking about...one of those fleece things. But, he added...I want a wool one, a nice wool one. A Wool Navidad....not a fleece navidad, but, a wool one. This time, I knew he wasn't kidding.

I told him, I'd look. He smiled, and turned and kept staring out from the porch. He always loved his porch. Full of plants out there to tend, when he remembered. Most of them were dead or dying now, which was sad because he always took such care of them.

My favorite, was always the wandering jew....he'd kept it alive for nearly thirty years now. I was keeping it alive, he didn't remember it at all. We used to joke about the name, he called it a creeping jesus....just to get me angry. Now, it was just a plant, he didn't remember.

We've lost Grandad. He's still here, but, he's gone. I hope he finds us in there some day, creeping jesus', fleece navidads, poyne setters and all.
Ezra Apr 2015
A girl walked out of the thrift store,
Sporting a green leather pea coat.
She was accosted by a budding socialite,
Who complimented her garish green.

"How dare you call it 'Green'!,
Can't you see what this is?"
The socialite-turned-desperate shook her head.
"'Tis the colour of the trees after spring."

"Green?"
"No, silly. Beautiful."

And thus a trend was set.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2018
for all its worth, ad inviduum matters,
as any stress imposed
to, "break away from the herd"...
the ever becoming need for
flamboyance and bombast
to not be: the drowning man
in a sea of corpses in the inevitable
inferno...
      as much as the saying goes
about vanity projects,
   hair make-up, or rather:
less extravagence and more on
the lines of: you can walk in *****
and torn clothes...
       but at least you've taken a shower
prior...
             yet there still remains
a stressor on individualism...
    in that...
            as long as individualism
is accepted by a herd of "individuals"...
i remember that outside of school
i knew one black guy,
as the black joke goes: he was a drug
dealer, and a single father...
what the white boy knows a black guy
joke doesn't follow up is that
he was ostricized... a fellow *****...
because they really tell you
about the Bangladeshi workers
    dead beneath the burn khalifa...
even individualism has limits,
with the motto:
   as long as it doesn't mingle with
eccentricity,
    as long as individualism doesn't
mingle with eccentricity...
   because in the latter sense?
that's the individualistic norm shattered...
everyone gets to over-hit the mark...
which shows the cracks in
the so-called notion of individualism...
notably in the west:
        cogitans est cassus primo
                    gratia rideo...
      logos incognito.
                     as such, individualism
as spare, auxiliary / collateral change...
trend setters,
    if famous for 15 minutes,
   pack leaders for 15 seconds,
and then back to the frivolous intrigues
of peacocks on a catwalk...
by individual, i think of the:
                 hersch...
                      a dangerous line between
setting a vogue and a minor
sentiment for the vanguard...
and becoming ostricized as a *****,
humouresly being attached
the term: eccentric...
     or just plain weird in the harsh
tongue of the children's blunt...
phraseology...
                             the world comes
to the boundaries of a small town
exactly 1.5 days later,
  give or take the algorithm
via prior searches...
                                   perhaps how i
understand individualism is
how Narcissus might understand
the vampirism of his brother
     Solipssus...
                  a kind of people who
behave as if without a body,
a type of people who, like vampires,
can't see their reflections...
not that they can't in a literal sense...
      as everything small begs
a curiosity,
   as everything large astounds
with awe...
             paradoxical thus,
the content of a church,
                 and the church itself...
        after all...
     the legionnaires did soak
a sponge with wine and offered it to him
on the end of a spear... which he refused...
   a pale comparison
as blueprint, to what subsequently
came to pass...
              well...
it is pale... considering you'll
never actually know, upon giving
himself up so freely...
  that there wasn't anything,
remotely comparative
with the infamous example
of Albert Fish:
              self-embedded needles
lodged in his pelvis and perineum...
just as the other case in point:
marquis de sade seems more like
a scapegoat than the sadist
his imagination and only his imagination
allowed him to be...
because what,  screaming from
the window of the Bastille, or locked
in an asylum, he could really
compete with the power of the clergy
in the form of his uncle,
the abbé de sade...
                       how can it not be
a fiction, when the power of fiction itself
has become slowly obliterated
wriggling in a cul de sac?
     how could I ever write a work
of fiction, when what was deemed
as truth, credo, is facing up to
non-mainstream footnote reading
and the 1945 archeological findings
that match up to the 2000 or so years
of heretical speculation?
riht now, he can be brown olive
tanned mulatto or whatever Dalton
hue of orange...
              if white is ivory if it is
a scalped cranium a pharmacological
soup woth of brain...
             if white is white and even amrican
south: h'white...
        clingy *******
to the feet of the Urals...
    pardonable warm *****,
only Sveedish, and only at 25ml a pop...
talking to two old people
half-awake, half-asleep...
      buddha-eyed sleepwalking almost...
as i came in contact with
the dark chapter of medicine,
not even past the 1950s America...
                 the infamous tactic
of regression: also known as
    false memory implants...
                    two old people trying
to fall asleep,
   a bottle of *****,
       shy drinking, 10 years of celibacy...
with the odd purely physical encounter
like a rag and a hand and a ***** sink...
my grandfather bemoans that
he never had a chance to say: father...
i could bemoan not having said:
i love you...
                ascribed her an endearing
nick'...
                it seems this world
hides higher pleasures bound
to a rigour so few make eruditions of.
Big Virge Aug 2020
Ya Know I've Heard It Said By Older Heads...
COMPETITION Is Part of Human STRENGTH... !!!

That's TRUE I Guess But Now Detect...
Competitions NOW Have Got DEFECTS... !!!
And DON'T Give Wealth To Humanity's Health... !!!

I'm Older Now So See Just How...
Competitions... DROWN...
Because of CLOWNS...
Now CLAIMING Crowns... !?!

As If They're... KINGS... ?!?
When They're Just.............
COMPETING... WEAKLINGS... !!!!!

Like Heads NOW Kicking Lyrics...
That LACK The Depth And Slickness...
In Verse BIG VIRGE Be Bringing... !!!

My Poems Leave Heads RINGING... !!!
Because My Words Keep STINGING... !!!
Like Cobras That Be... SPITTING... !!!

In The Faces of FAKES Who Just Can't Take...
STRONG BRANDS of SHARP Wordplay... !!!!!!

They QUICKLY Run For Cover...
When They DISCOVER The Rocks I'm Under... !!!

Cos' My Venom EXTENDS...
... PROBLEMS For Them... !!!!!

Because My Chem'... HITS Ventricles...
And Blends To FEND Like Tentacles... !!!!!

That STING These Kids Like JELLYFISH... !!!!!
A... " Man o War "... For SURE... !!!!
When I HIT Shores Competitors ROAR...

"Okay Big Virge, No More, NO MORE !"......

Or Like DURAN... "No Mas No Mas !"

When I Start To PEPPER...
Their Head Like... LEONARD...
Cos' I'm The... Sugar Ray...
Wordplay... HEAVYWEIGHT... !!!!!!!!

TOO HEAVY To Be Found...
On... ANY Dub Plate... !!!!!!!

My Competition Dissipates......................... ..............
And Disintegrates Because They're AFRAID...
of The Kind of Wordplay I Choose To DISPLAY...
... That DESTROYS These FAKES... !!!!!

Competition They CLAIM...
To Want... ALL DAY... !!!

Til' I STAKE My Claim...
To Enter... CENTRE STAGE... !!!
And HIT LAME BRAINS...
With My... MIND SPRAY... !!!!!

I DAMAGE These FOOLS...
Just Like... " JERU "...

Compete With... WHO... ?!?
I'm The Doctor... WHOSE...
Competitive Words Have BIGGER BOOTS...
Than... COMPETITIVE JERKS...
Whose Verse... Lacks Worth... !!!

COMPETITIVE Dudes...
Who Were Born To LOSE... !!!!!!

I Compete With... ME...
NOT GLORY Hunting Freaks... !!!

Because...

EVERY TIME I Rhyme Alphabet Letters...
I'm Trying To BETTER My Form of VENDETTA...
To STAND For... MORE...
Than THESE WHORISH Trend Setters... !!!

I'm A VERBAL GO GETTER...
NEVER Late But... FOREVER... !!!

A Man Whose VIEWS...
COMPETE To... CONSUME...
VOLUMES In Rooms...
Who CHOOSE To REFUSE...

WORDPLAY I USE...
I'm A Bit... " CONFUSED "... ???

When It Seems They CHOOSE...
To BELIEVE It's... COOL...
When These FOOLS Exude...
SO MUCH... ATTITUDE...
About... " How They DEFEAT ! "...

EVERYBODY They Meet...
When It Comes To... FREESTIES'...
That They KICK Over Beats... !!!!!?!!!!!

They're QUICK To APPLAUD...
These... Lyrical FRAUDS... ?!?
Who COMPETE To Hear ROARS...
When They're... Treading The Boards... !!!

COMPETITIVE... Actors... !!!
Kind of Like An X Factor...
For... Wannabee Rappers...
Who … LACK The Bite...
of..... VELOCIRAPTORS...... !!!!!!!!

As For The... Gun Clappers...
They Take JOOK' Like SLAPPERS... !!!!!!

When... Like A SLACK Gangster...
They Get SHOT In The CRAPPER...
Cos' Their **** LOST It's HAMMER... !!!!!!

I Make These FOOLS... " S T T T TAMMER "... !!!!!
When I Utilise... GRAMMAR...
That HAMMERS Like BANNER... !!!

OKAY I Mean... THOR... !!!
COMPETING... Fa' SURE... !!!
When It Comes To A Cause...
WORTH... FIGHTING For... !!!!!

I COMPETE On... Spirit Levels...
That DISHEVEL These DEVILS... !!!
Who... CLEARLY Seem To REVEL...
In Being Given... MEDALS...
For NONSENSE That They PEDAL... !!!

Like PRIEST My HEAVY MENTAL...
Is How I... BURN And SETTLE...

Scores With... BROADS...
I Mean... GIRLS Of Course... !!!

Who... CLEARLY LIKE To See...
THESE Gangster Wannabes'...
COMPETING For Their *****... !!!!

NO MORE Do I CONCEDE... !!!
To PANDER To Their Schemes... !!!

My Competition FEEDS...
OFF MORE Than They Could Be... !!!!!!!!

My Competition NEEDS...
To Make A... BETTER ME... !!!!!

NOT To PROVE To... " Peeps' "...
That I'm BETTER Than Jay-Z... !?!?!

I'd RATHER Be... " The V "...
Whose VENDETTAS COMPETE...
AGAINST The... Powers That Be... !!!!

And FIND A... HIGHER Mission...
Than Being... SOLELY DRIVEN...
To Fighting For... A PITTANCE... ?!?

In PETTY.............

……. " COMPETITION " …….
I was never one to believe that an artists' work should be something to be placed in competitions. People either like what you do or they don't ....

Voting on art is Hardly Ever, Objective .....
Ottar Apr 2016
beard-red explorers
pillaging-horror practitioners
tribal-family groups
insurgent-nomadic roots
that
trailed wave-rammers across never-ending spans,
continuously-toilfully matters not the demands
women and men side by each
beastly-feasters no table safe
stand up for yourself or be a weak-waif
in the bloodshot soul-panes, fierce
pagan-purveyors by rites
despised-womanizers
siege-setters
monk-murderers
a blood-spilling bee
treasure trove crash n’carry
Thor had his hammer
every wave-rammer had an oar for every
pair of life-stained hands, the stains
were borrowed and the very life-drained out of others
blood-smitten berserkers, heart-stoppers
and yet
discoverer’s children
wandering wet-wilderness
found a Stormy-Stop, a few
actually, and one be Newfoundland
may-haps they settled in peace.
Yup I am so proud of them, they made me who I am.
Inspiration Poetic Edda, did I tell you when my beard
grows it grows in red.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2023
National mindsets self interested suffer
forms of dementia as the order all confessed,
demands of each a concentration of self worth,
you bet your soul, but only in the spirit,
step into the fray, say, let me lead you,
say let me take elected office,
democratic to the edges, being your voice
in a popularity contest, not an intellectual joust.
Tutelary deontology 101.
Governing is managing the labor. Ask the king.
Any flock in the system, governs itself.
Business is business.
Some arrangements are always secret. All
grown ups are in the business of war supplies.
Let your children's minds be at ease.
Trust the checks and balances history proves,
have never worked on balance, for the poor.
Get rich quick as one can imagine, on a bet.
War meets Peace, like it is the storm
that left Greenland, a legend until now.

Easily intreated innocense, who could know.
Prosaic first morning pizz to prime the pump.

How deep is the generational debt due to war?
How many bonds have been sold to pay interest?
How many times has the national debt ceiling failed?
You know.
Every time.
"Each major conflict in U.S. history
has been accompanied
by a sharp rise
in debt as the government raises funds
to pay for the fighting."

But laws do exist…
"Without a declaration of war
to put the country on a wartime economy,
Congress paid for Vietnam
by increasing the national debt.
Over the course of the conflict,
America's debt nearly doubled, growing
from approximately $317 billion in 1965
to $620 billion in 1976."

Now the debt is rising
on interest alone. No need for another war.

And America's trade balance is hinged,
on the point of war.
The ideal centermost irritant, war's hate pump,
pain expanded by generational trespass acts
likened unto the pea
under the stack of feathered beds,
or the bit of grit forcing oyster stress
that has made the misshapen pearl sold
to sovreign entities, those colors on the map,
these mental aggregations called nations,
by nationalist mind frame riveters,
foundational eye beams, remove before demoting,
ah, slow, riveted beams spanning ferro-concrete tech- think.
Building a reasoning trap, children,
ask your fathers to whom we owe our national debt.
Ask also who sells the weapons to the world at war.
Semper fi,
no offence, but… holy hate is as crazy as hungry hate.

A voice from a song, from nowhere,
you just could rethink, or did, that first time think
a bridge over troubled waters being a truly old good idea,
come to rescue you,

in the early days of Boomer parenthood… being grown ups,
we never missed a Disney Movie, though by then,
they were losing the gnostalgia, old knowns to be like so,
were no longer even imaginably so.
Old Yeller,
Childhood's end, the separation
from hearth felt comfort,
to the class rooms and hallways
of massive cold concrete schools… where on day one,
the child pledges with its cohort of coeducatables,
the ancient bond of aliegiance...
I pledged mine first in 1954, the year "under God" was added.

In the just now settling down towns along the great freeways,
there has been no peace on earth in my generation,
at the level of military minds in conflict caused by stories,
boys bred with old hates just waiting for a sigh-psignal
sci-revealed to those willing to become Jason Bourne,
to the best of your abilities, ring the bell, any time.  

Welcome to the front. Sanity is on the line.
There is no conspiracy, we sell our souls for what money
can be demonstratively proven to allow and even augment.

War is all we sell. There is another game, it's a liar's game.
Many famous authorities have filled the space at the table.

Take your hat off, Bartholowmew, she does not understand you.

------------
Daily communication with myself,
one person, with no power to use
save the early cultural confidence;
sworn to tell the whole truth,
so help me, God. Yes, your honor.

Except we reactivate the curious why,
functionally suppressed during the standard
test taking by the proximate others
diligently filling in the blanks,
with graphite rounded just right, one swipe.

Except we see that hanging senselessly realized.
Each problem, one answer, not one option.
Only select correct answer.
Tell the child learning the pledge,
God is on our side, emphasize
how exceptional those who know so are,
extremely discriminatingly,
arranging the economy around
the great decussation at the air gap,
at the back of our national neck.

In this time,
thoughts and prayers, we hear
spoken of as easily done,
almost without thoughts, who
responds?, who, has ever responded
to the said to be going out constantly
thoughts and prayers, asking truth
to intervene and call the liars liars?

God is not angry, nor without resources,
according to the cultures now at war--
¿
Whose mortgage was not paid with earnings
from war readiness industrial complexes?

Whose talent was left with the userers,
because the Bible says y'sposed to earn interest?

Whose 401K deflated to oops?

Business begins with informed agreements.
Let's make a deal.
No killing, stealing nor needless destruction.

Minds join eye to eye, one mindwise agreed,
we become an entity, a being essential
to the parts, a mind in harmony, rank and file.

Greedy men with no agreement. Hmm, who loses?

Line up, not by rank, single file, fall in,
first and following, get in on the end,
and wait for the circle to close,
re done dances, life going wild as
we celebrate our circle, we sing of it
being unbroken in the sweet by and by…

The land of those who talk back to El,
yes, yes, we do, to honor Iyobe,
who first called for the Daysman,
who first
told reality, with all it's evil potential,
you cannot not be true, you know, in form
as spirit and truth containable in words, logos,
logos of all o-logies,
so powerful as to allow, in fact, cause, new mindforms,
species of thoughts that function as a system to make
sense, discernible, bits of valuation determinable in agreement.
--------------
Contractual obligations religiously adhered to
just between us, we take advantage for the nation's sake.
Madrassahs and aliegiance pledges set habits hard to break.

Set the cost of goods, lower than replacement cost of the price.
What does it cost a state to rear a warrior class individual
that self replenishes?

What does it cost me to scatter confusion in profuse create-ifity?
So, add a proper tip,
and pay the cost to ride this line to the next re-entering angle.
Middle east,
cauldron of all the holy empires thus far into the age
of entertainment so vast,
wise men can imagine, some day
there will be a war, and no parents will have
offered children to the infantry or made
righteous indignation acceptable national pride to k-ill for.

There Hamas, holy brainwashed haters of hatefulness.
Repents and perishes the very thought of peace.
Repay in kind, here, swear undying obediance,
fear not death, this is Allah's Promise, die killing Jews,
turns on the monstrous virgins awaiting you…
in post mortal walled places,
where the oldest civilizations occurred,
as God's great idea, I'll
empty the center of me, and seep
back in through fractured rationality
along trade routes between Africa and
the forested north above the desert.

Me, there, in mental efforting, thinking
thoughts, not prayers, but wishes, hopes,
thoughts that prayers attach to, as evidence.

"Ask and ye shall receive."
Love those who call you enemy, can you?

Face me, Mr. Nobody, the essence of other,
I declare peace, where none is, and you laugh.

No ritual, no enchantments with promise,
no sacred making of secular deaths, just
just just adjust the justice aspect, blame
the holy haters whose God dispenses vengeance,
at the behest of warriors fitted with military minds.

As when holy Americans gather to offer military aid,
blessed by the congregations alerted to intercede,
on the side that denies Jesus was God,--- ah, both sides,
in this case…
whither turn we, do we face Mecca, or Jerusalem,
or Petra or … Sol or Luna, all our enculturated faith,

blinks, a lense clarifying effort, rub the crust
of sleep fallen into while mourning, unsealing eyes
to see again, a war between two national identities,
both with warrior glory emulation traditions,
one with money as first de-fence, the other with hate,
nothing less than pure hatred, Cain to Able, sorry bro.

Old mean spirits.
If the hate can live in any man, wombed or un, it will.

Willingness to hate enough to k-ill a stranger, will
manifest as holy terror… enough to make Jesus weep.

--- and those were a few of the local thoughts made prayer,
seemingly automatically, as mysterious as most final secrets.

Part three, deeper, faster, harder… or not

Doings in the dark, are done by feel.
One, you or I, or some other sapien
augmented with the messiah's mind, feels the need for the deed.
Take the message from Garcia.

Mystic experience in story realms,
holding all the visions taken raw,
as revealed… as when a curtained
entry way is opened for inspection,

are we ideas in bodies?
are all ideas spirit in form?

Inhale an intuited absence of evil,
breathe the air of answered prayer.

Imagine that, let fly the idea of you,
beloved individuated potential saint.

Here is your sentimental inner edge,
your gnosis pressed flat as you see in.

The edge of this bubble, is distant
only to the holy cloaked in asceticism,
twisting wicks
for someday light in someday night,
circulate one way then the other,
rethinking perfected emptiness,
there are no others, up or down,
to and fro, vectors tie targeted states,
spider kites form single ray classic webbing,
slim banner, a flag unraveled long since.

Follow me, I say to me, follow me,
I say to you, saying back, I am not you.

My option.
Turn on, sit back and watch,
evolving cave wall interesting hooks,

look around, nothing interesting, eh?
Television as imagined by petrified apes,
during peak-info preservation history,
when men like Franklin and Voltaire,
met to share secret meanings of things.

Previous to any whole story
that remains, as when any mind mistakes
tzimtzum inside as first occurrence,

total emptiness, pre space, one time
this instant accepted as audience

in true gaseous we form, auto informing
the vegetable phaze passed eons ago, life
tells tales too esoteric for novices
to notice, in the ideal state, active
imagining, as with a child's mind, yours
since ever was, so far as you may wish
to remember,
a time when the state was deemed
comforting and beauty filled, chaotic
process of floating lipids, in form of air,
light has not dawned on us, we are
night scene setters of settings, nodes
of potential anything you can imagine,

level with me, even, straight, right… yes it
is the optional meandering mind engine,
an idol, or a daimon, madness of sorted
degrees, a little bit off the charts, sorted
out.
Not in, the bubble being becomes,
when one emerges in a self…

subtle is good, right, we agree?
Jesus, before Christianity, as a kid,
instructed with his cousin John,
likely by his temple servant uncle.

That can be imagined, projected
on the outerwall
of this bubble we be in.
At the moment,
on an Earth wired

for sound, elephants agreeing to meet,
to follow the pilgrimage, pilgrim beings
activated by stark necessity successful
to this degree…

by the reader's time's
at tension, pull
release
snap back, at what ifery, at once, push

most bottom centered point once sitting
in raw time thought processing, in
and out, efforting
- slightly off, not fully on
uncomfortable impression of holy
you better get better or else. Holy

blank slate, bubble pop, soft wow

Now, we're in the swirl, in the spin
toward, froward lips sealed, golden
silence,
subtler than any beast, creature,
living thing in the ruliad, am I? No.

BUT, you know, those penance prayers,
given you as a child, enchantments,
as with all your renouncements of evil
and pledges under God, in your child mind.

Look. To your own self, be true.
You still have private interpretation access
to your child mind.

If you put your worried mind to work
on some thought too deep to ponder then,

The idea of punishment by the Creator
of all that is not God, but was deemed good,
by God, because I said so, said the father,
in the child mind.

To know good and evil knowledge,
that talent, initial mark on our blank slate,
to know, not what you know, but ask
your child mind, how does it feel,

flat on your back gasping as others laugh,
and your child mind blooms an entire eon
- just to catch a breath takes for ever
and there were others, the whole family
of mankind of your kind, to your child mind,
stood laughing at your attempt to perform

a first flight, from an edged bet with an
I think I can virus perpetuated in ever after,

since mind made time make sense in chaos.
Instantly, things start to take shapes, in mind.
Non sense. Since. Processing time. Go.
Instants out of mind, in atari.
Fog of unknowns. I used to play the game.
Not really, only, one off thought forms,
cloudlike in symmetry, no clear tongue
and groove, fitting our pro-posed… pose

supposed, to listen and while listening,
learn the use of any knowing, can be
taken as granted possibility by your self.
- distant sound of light sabers actuation
Your blame and shame catcher, out front,
as we steam ahead across the gap,
thoughts made prayers must leap.

Keep your eyes on the prize, three
walnuts and a split pea with a hair, fine
infant hair, see it there, your old minds eye.

The unveiling of an artifice, an angle
greater than straight, from this point…
a re-entrant angle, like a point, banked shot.

in
Thanks, I needed you to ready become... said the little blue man... whatsoever we agree... indeed. Let us see...
"Going to be late for dinner. Rush Hour!"

Playing with the Platypus
pretending the Preying Mantis
made a makers mark
on the playing cards
secret Joker Deck.

Sitting on the sticky stick of stickers.

Sitting in the setting set by the table setters.

Sitting on the soft sofa sipping the sour soda.

Alliterating the alternate wording worth alliterating.
Marian Dec 2014
May clover brighten your path
And sunshine lighten your way
Down the path to your farmhouse
Where daisies dance and sway
Inside the home where love resides
In a comfy arm-chair is where you'll rest
After a hard day's work, you now relax
As the dying sun fades in the west
May some charming thought
Bring a smile unto your face
As from your covered porch you watch
Our handsome English Setters race
So, go ahead and make a wish
For brighter days in store
Where our home upon the hill awaits
Waiting evermore

**~Marian~
Happy Birthday, Dad!!! :) ~~~~<3
I Hope You Have A BEAUTIFUL Day!!! ~~~<3
Here Is Your Fantasy Poem!!! ~~~<3
Enjoy!!! ~~~~<3
By The Way, This Is Dedicated To My Dad, Timothy
Who Is HP Also!!! :) ~~~~~<3
May This Be A Happy Day For Him!!! :D ~~~~<3
Lazhar Bouazzi Jan 2017
An ashy weeping willow,  
Lay in my wobbling garden.
Like a cosmic silver pigeon.

Up: the still, leaden flow
Sailed - a cold, prowling woe,
Charging to pounce on Carthage.

In: the wreaths of smoke letters
Gather as leaden fetters,
Then dart like Irish setters,
Released after a game.

LazharBouazzi, January 6, 2017
Cliff Schraibman Feb 2014
Part I -You are my top drawer man

Well I have to confess, my life has turned out quite nice to be fair.
Don’t think for one minute that I am not deeply thankful; do you think I don’t care?
There’s money in the bank and look even a new convertible outside
Zero Percent how could I resist, you would do it too if you could just feel the ride

The mortgage is all paid, so the money that’s left, it is all mine
My poor dad he worked so hard, he did lots of overtime
He held down two jobs just to make end
s meet,
And then they left and they left it all for me to spend
Bless

So I’m determined, the way they scrimped, I will not do the same
I won’t squander my life for that would be such a shame
So tonight I'm off, heading once more to one of those exotic places
Places where mankind has so far left very few traces

When one day I lie on my deathbed, Wracked by Disease and Succumbing to Pain
I will remember all those places and how I wish I could go there again
Nowhere will be where I haven’t been
On this earth there will be no wonderful sight that I have not seen

I am going now, I must get my flight
It’s the jet setters life for me, oh my what a delight,
But I just have to go and you knew this time would come, so no reason for tears
Promise to stay faithful and allay all my fears

You are the only man for me, and when I get back you and I can love again
You are my dream man and my life without you would be such a pain
You know how much I love painting the town red
We could do dinners and theatres, wine tastings and afterwards to bed

When we go out for a drink, as always you can drive
and as for me, well I will be alongside
Oh bear in mind, cash will be tight, these trips cost the earth you know
There won’t be much spare, so maybe we could just catch a late night TV show

Oh darling you definitely have a place in my life of that you can be glad
But there are things I must do and places I must go so please you mustn’t be sad
I know a man, he will come along, and luckily he lives in a drawer just below yours
I intend to open it before I head off and out he will come crawling on all fours,

I know it’s awkward but you will just have to get back inside
I won’t be gone long and when I come back you can pop out and come for a ride.
Oh and when you come over, you can put balm on my back
And afterwards who knows, you and me could even end up in the sack

What an odd question “Are you left or right handed” gosh indeed why do you enquire?
Well how should I know, I haven’t been watching and to respond to silliness I lack all desire
After all I don’t think you and I have been together for very long
Six years in June or was it April and oh my your love for me it is still so strong.
Reflective Commentary

I began writing to release myself from the ******* affair in which I was embroiled. I had always entertained grandiose ideas of the type of lover I was going to meet, blissfully unaware that my heart had its own ideas and wouldn’t see reason or comply with fantasy. I now find myself  in one of the bottom corners of an Isosceles love triangle; me being deeply in love with another person who takes self-obsession to new heights; one who neither sees, understands and indeed is incapable of acknowledging anyone besides herself. I'm ashamed to admit, she is seeing someone else as well.
This was just to be a trail run, chiefly intended to be cathartic. I wanted to help myself understand my feelings of self-loathing and jealousy; why I seem to be stuck in this awful place, why can’t I just move on, find someone else, get a life, get a new lover, get some inertia and move on. None of the self-help books about ending relationships came close to pulling me up out of my prison.
So one January night I began writing, I had a burning passion to imbibe some “healing medicine”. Thoughts were running through my head like a snake winding its way deep within me. I had to let it out, give it “air-time”. I wanted to understand my weaknesses and see them in “daylight”.
I wrote through the night and when I was done, I realised I was no longer in pieces, letting my heart flow to my fingers had somehow changed me; I was now an accomplished artist who could sing from his own soul.
It was then, however, I realised that I actually hark back to an “old school” one that is described in BRB as “Northern Ireland Rhyming”. I felt compelled to make each couplet rhyme according to some old fashioned scripture that is rarely used today.  Free-form didn’t do it for me, who would know it was a poem, it could be anything? I needed to ensure that mine looked and read like a poem. In hindsight, I actually think I lacked the confidence to let it exist in free-form.
Initially the first stanza of my poem looked lame: -
Well life is pretty good to me
Money in the bank
A flash new convertible
Mortgage is all paid
And here I was hoping to make the first stanza rhyme and take it from there, well good luck I thought.
After much persistence and juggling words, I managed to get the last words on each couplet to rhyme. I did have to sacrifice one verse, which I had grown attached to, being unable to find matching pairs that delivered the same blows of arrogance: -
So I'm determined not to die,
Not to die without having lived
I painstakingly avoided “We” or “Us” and especially eschewed the word “ours”.
I devoted time agonising over “Ends” and “Spend” in the second stanza, but came up with a workaround by playing with “Form”. So the “s” at the end of ends, ended up on the next line, as her parents were unable to make ends meet hence the “end” and its “s” don’t meet.
Brandon Barnett Apr 2012
Let’s take a tour through the galaxy
I’ll show you the stars hung just for me
We’ll dance in their light like Fred Astaire
Quite the pair, ignoring everyone’s stares
We'll be the two hottest on this date tonight
Let’s overdress and wink when we fight
We'll cut spot to spot, swanky jet setters
Limousine roof out, we’re red carpet steppers
Piano keys open all the doors for us to go
Slipping back stage to see the real show
Sipping martinis till the next party starts
Tripping farther down the boulevard

We don’t ruin the night with conversation
You and me honey we’re a revelation
We don’t mix the night with conversation
You and me honey we’re a revelation

Don’t say it out loud I can hear you thinking
It’s not about talking it’s the champagne drinking
I join you for another glass or three
I like the way it makes you stare at me
I get stuck in your quicksand eyes
Your two lips become my slow demise
The darkest corner of this club sparks up
Like diamonds and gems you light it up
then...

Your hair’s a mess, my tux a wreck
I wrinkled your dress, you bruised my neck
You lost an earring, you bit my chest
My back is scratched and you’re still outta breath

We don’t ruin the night with conversation
You and me honey we’re a revelation
We don’t mix the night with conversation
You and me honey we’re a revelation
lionheartlion Nov 2016
It was a neutral, fair weathered, mid October Friday night in downtown Raleigh, the sky painted with stars, but barely visible as lights are strewn out everywhere, glittering as they are draped across buildings to create a corner hidden from the rest of the world. There are also lights from the many expensive cars lining the already tight streets; Chrysler, Infinity, Volvo, BMW, but also there’s an array of Hondas and the Chevy I am currently riding in to get there myself.  The lights continue to follow my evening as the holidays are approaching, accompanied by Christmas lights hanging from local breweries. The skyline is made up of buildings mimicking an array of Christmas trees on a Christmas tree farm in December; one my favorite times of year.

The spirit of the air is carefree as people gather to unwind from the week before and have a good time with whomever they are with or alone. The variety of people is similar to that of Candy in a candy store; all there for the same purpose, but different in minor ways. Groups of friends occupying the sidewalks outside of restaurants, breweries, dessert bars, coffee bars, boutiques, and galleries. Hipsters walking proudly and dancing in the streets owning who they are in their hometown or possibly visiting to experience the uniqueness the beautiful city has to offer. Most people dressed their best to welcome the night before them and enjoy the company of their friends, walking around to whatever comes their way.

The atmosphere is quiet, peaceful, and chill but the night is nothing short of alive just like the people I experience. Young couples and individuals line the streets exuberating their young lively spirits into the air as they exhale smoke from their cigarettes. The streets are also lined with a couple individuals that seem a little sketchy, but that’s just because they keep to themselves and walk alone, not effecting the safe atmosphere Raleigh exuberates. Everyone seems to be focused on only who they came with, concentrating on what they will do that evening. My plans included dinner at The Pit, one of the greatest BBQ places I have ever been in my life.

The first place I went to this evening was a Chocolate Shop called Videri Chocolate Factory with the most intriguing vibe I have possibly received upon coming into a store. There are lights strung from the ceiling and a glass case containing expensive, gourmet chocolates made in house. As I continue to walk around the store there is a whimsical feeling I get when I notice the coffee bar and more Christmas lights hanging around and intricate glass cups behind the counter. Continuing down the corridor there is a large glass window displaying where the chocolate is made, making the experience even more real. As I continue to look around the store I notice most of the people are middle aged to older; the people with money. The chocolate in the store is not cheap, but I think most of the people who come to downtown Raleigh are also paying for the experience.

Upon leaving the shop I notice the outside of the store and this is one prime example I think of when I think that people physically impact the place in which they live. The picture shown above of the chocolate shop mimics so much of the personality of Raleigh that I have noticed. The store is made of bricks on the outside that you can tell have been there for a really long time, but displays a modern, exciting font and the final touch of bright white lights adds a perfect finish to the display of the store. The people of Raleigh (or the ones I have noticed the three years out of living here myself) tend to migrate towards vintage, old things and appreciate the beauty of unique sights that make you feel special and unique yourself upon going there.

Another key factor in the imagery of this shop that reminds me of the people of Raleigh is the artsy aesthetic that the door holds with the lights. There are so many art students who consistently go to downtown Raleigh and they are a part of what makes the atmosphere so bright and exciting. While the people who visit downtown Raleigh are looking for those vintage vibes and artsy aesthetics they are also incredibly modern much like the font the door holds. They are caught up on what is currently in style and trend setters themselves, but interpret it in a way that fits them personally. This to me is the only thing that people of downtown Raleigh have in common; they are old fashioned, vintage, modern, and unique all at the same time, perfectly mirroring the city in which they live.
An excerpt from a paper I'm working on
Poetic T Apr 2016
He languished in the stocks but never was hunger
A problem. For he caught apples between his yappers,
Playing catch with each bite, it flew through the air
And once again a pinching of it till a stalk was left.
The crowd stood around in awe of his culinary
Performance, then they threw once again.

Released his time of languishing ended and returning
To his ship, "never slap the mayors wife's ****, he
Thought but who was he kidding he would do it
Again but next time not in front of him. She was where
He had left her, pride on his bearded features.
Daddies home, as his hands caressed her wooden features.

He went to his abode, lingering views of a picture
Of the oceans essence of high pitched waves. He pressed
Upon a singular spot and a secret revealed itself on his views.
A small casket, others would have seen it as a trinket box
Of lessened value. My precious thing of beauty that I hold,
I'll let you free when from port we discard the solid land.

The crew were pleased as the waves graced the ships bow
and the captain discarded his weavings of land lubbers
threads that clung to tight. Raise our flag my mates of
what is our nature true. Captain Black Heart Bart,
"Yes I know its a mouthful, but its my pirate #tag,
The chest came forth and with an even hand opened up.

The wisps clung to the captain as if a loving embrace,
my love, soul of the ship, lend us your breath to move
to our destination where the tides are silent and the
wind is death, motionless and soundless where ships
linger in a graveyard of wood and bones of the lost.
With a gesture the mists encircle the sails migrating forward.

Her breath kept motion where there would have been neither,
they stared at the wrecks of those lost in time. Were those
of white washed echoes, moving dead eyes following or
was it but the motionless reflection of the static seas grasp.
"Sir we see the place that her breath has taken us too,
"Thank you my love, you can now slumber, rest your breathe,

Upon the shores or blackened sand, they were called the
Remnant Tears, old lore said it was the tears of a lonely
god as he watched the sunset of his life, and these are all
that is left the residue of a time long past. They were sharp
as well, like jagged torn metal. We wore hadderned leather in
layers to save the blood from tearing from us as his did long ago.

We were home a shelter from those that would hunt us upon
ocean waves never did we take souls we just took material
things of value to sell, we melted precious metals, released
gems of equal sizes from their clasps, and in bowls they gleamed
of the suns rays ravishing the walls with a kaleidoscope of
colours that's changed with even shards of light gleaming through.


He sat on the crows nest of a ship, of older design than known,
made from not wood or metal another of majestic times long
faded into obscurity glance. Gathering thoughts on the mirrored
façade that never moved just like a reflection of above, one could
Be sent crazy in thought of which was land or sea, below or above.
He liked this illusion on his senses that was art to his perception.

Breezes of sea air rustled his beard and it was relaxing him
to slumber. but only when the waves graced him descending
into its eternal grasp would he rest these sea legged bones.
But now was the time to inspire the charmers below, with
a voice he greeted ears below. "Ya lazy dogs, move them bones,
And like mice they scurried to there hidey holes.

Nodding his head he discarded gravity as he plummeted to the
waiting deck below. Right or was that left no he was facing the
wrong way, she was playing tricks with her breath.  He burst in
to laughter and they nervously laughed with him, come on
my woman and men of the sea lets do some gentle persuading
that other relinquish there cluttered possessions to our ship.

With heart felt cheers they, sang their song to the stale winds,

"We're not pirates we be releasers of others greed,
"Possessions are who ever holds them be in cargo hold free,
"We'll never hurt you, we'll just gently nudge till you agree,

"Pirates that's a name we be called who we be,
"We be good looking, folks don't listen to history,
"We walked many a walk way plank to you and me,
"Yes I said we not above but that between you and me,

"Get done with the cutlass, respect the captains beard,
"We sail the high seas cos low ones make me sick,
"Trend setters of the ocean that's what we be,
"My flag is named skully, black & white he be,

"Pirates that's a name we be called who we be,
"We be good looking, folks don't listen to history,
"We walked many a walk way plank to you and me,
"Yes I said we not above but that between you and me,

Repeat and rinse sing what you feel, that's when I call upon
my beauty, "Awaken from slumber, breath to the wind,
And in to the great blue we sail, never a life have we took
never shall there be. For we are the new version of the old
but we will always win with her breath in front of me.

See you soon if to plunder I do mean, sail happy if your
not of greed and wealth or we will set our sights on thee.
The waves splash upon our bow, spray invigorate the souls
of all upon our beauty "The Wind Of The Sea, now ill
wish you good travels its time for us to earn our keep and
to visit those who need to lightened to heavy on the sea.
Zoe Lynne Mar 2012
Where the off keys are the subtleties
Missing symmetries linking beats
Rhythms rhyming daytime stories
With nighttime attitudes
Dudes and ladies
Going crazy in lime light
More impressed by concept than conception
Misguided perhaps
maybe blinded
Influenced so greatly
By something stirred gently
On the off chance
What they need to say
Matches what was heard
Wheezed into a microphone
30 feet away
Elevated, but not above
Their ability for connection
And desire for attention
Packed rooms full of people
Wanting a label
To cling to or sing to
Making it easier to declare with conviction
Instead of trying to stick out by fitting in
(Afruitless effort, except by the trend setters)
Jerry Salcedo Jan 2017
There's a silent war going on
Going on
Going on
There's a silent war going on
Going on
Going on

What happened to the days of true scholars
Nia who acquired knowledge not just dollars
We keep regressing as time goes on
We gota do it better than those who are gone long
Ago
When times we're more difficult
Gota get back to the origins on how theories were born
F
k rules
Be the exception and keep on going
Growing to infinite possibilities
Study everything under the sun
Be one with the universe since it begun
We ain't gonna win the war be we still gotta
battle
Cause
 
There's a silent war going on
Going on
Going on
There's a silent war going on
Going on
Going on

We gota shake society like those who have come and gone
Make a everlasting impact
Before you're done
Fk following the rules and
Getting a job that's cool
And sit in a office just to be a tool
Go out there
Risk your life
Become incredible and **** the hype
We can't win this war that is true
But we can fight and break open the truth
Cause

There's a silent war going on
Going on
Going on
There's a silent war going on
Going on
Going on

Those considered outcast or wierd have it clear
They understand that what we are shown doesn't come near
Of the true potential we hold
We must be bold
To bypass all these corny measured goals
Be an individual
Don't conform
We are born to break past social reform
I wanna preach love and individualism
Not stay stuck on hate and be subliminal
Embrace your human spirit
And block out the political
Those policy setters
Carry an umbrella
While we stay roofless and go toothless
Cause

There's a silent war going on
Going on
Going on
There's a silent war going on
Going on
Going on

Go against the grain
Embrace your heart
F
k your mind
It's been molded by the naysayers
Who just want to increase their dimes
Be you
No one is you
Set out on a mission and do it soon
Don't stay stuck following polices set by bullies
I know people need the money to get by
But if you take that thought out of your mind
One by one
Human nature will return to it's true kind
And maybe we'll have a chance at winning this war
A lot of us battle
And that's a real goal
Cause

The silent war just begun
Just begun
Just begun
The silent war just begun
Just begun
Just begun....
Lisa Ann Rakow Mar 2013
Watches
Great trend setters
Designed fashionably
Time-telling trap around your wrist
Quartz face
Sherry Lore Aug 2015
where the beauty is?
why do we only see the beautiful ones on display,
perfect as complete perfection, photo/makeup/cosmetic correction can make them stay...

replay, forever young, caught in some perpetual still life like on a canvas,
flawless, braless with ever perky ******* and bright white teeth polish,
bronzed skin and too tight everything, my god how the world must sing

whenever they strut their **** all around and bring
the rest of us less than perfect ones down by saying... nothing
according to the magazines, there go my dreams,
all in a too fat, too flat, where the ****'s my **** at,
reality in play, myself is where I stay,

stuck, in 6 weeks you can be like them, in six months you can be like her,
in 6 years you'll be like you... cause that's the cards we're played,
the genetic makeup, life breakup, reality shakeup is
that the impossible really is just that,

the beautiful really are just that,
and inside I'm just that
so wake up all you magazine covers, look up and take notice all you trend setters,
stuck up, rich *****, fake ***, wanna be real but gotta fake it *******

this... is where the beauty is
Hidden in the pleats
where all of life's defeats
are sewn into the kilt
behind the walls
I've built.

When Donald,
who was my Uncle,
on the Scottish side,
took his red setters for a walk,
they more than often ran
through the fences
along the old track that led
to the power station.

He would call and they would
stop
tails stretched
like fingers pointing
to an adventure
denied.

Donald died many years ago
I hope he still takes his dogs
walking along different
tracks in the same place.
A deadly task at hand , see the November broom sage conforming with the lay of the land
The smooth stones are secure in their creekside homes
Adolescent Crepe Myrtles abide in the company of elder Oaks
Every plant allotted soil and very much aware of their place
Under the ever meandering compression of man with a valuable lesson of humility and grace
Behold the wall builders , the ceiling setters , the clothed and the rambunctious
The soil breakers , the ravagers , the fire starters , the problem
solvers mingled with the war mongers
The breath of creation fueling their thirsted conflagrations
Behold "the thinkers" , destroyers and the manipulators* ..
Copyright October 23 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
David Ehrgott Feb 2016
I'm not a hippie she non sequitured
as I asked her questions
I'm not a hippie
I'm not a hippie she vociferated
  
It's okay I'm not a hippie either
I overly averred
  
Then we talked and agreed
and got warm
and got wet
  
Two years later we met again
It's like that sometimes for the jet-setters
  
"Hi" she smiled
"Hi" I returned
  
Did you hear the new (hip hop/rap star) album
she inquired
I'm not a hip hopper I stated
"What?" she questioned
I'm not a hip hopper I re-replied
StaticNSage Dec 2016
I caught my man panhandling I handed him my last thread of common sense, he only wanted the dollar
That's all I had left, reds an ugly number
Sensitivity is rarer than ever when you can barely feed you're kids on those old vendettas
I bought a bottom level house when the promise of higher living was brighter than sun setters
Told my girl we'd be living better
Now her head wrap, look like Erykah and I stole the fabric from the thrift shop, the irony did not register
Ain't no love in the struggle
Even less in hip hop
But I'll keep ******* around with **** until my ******* mix tape pops
Margot Mar 2019
Héroes

You and I, You and I –
Are heroes who are misaligned
With countries, guilty of restraint
With folks, born under quite a different reign

With foreign thought repertoires
That couple monolingual stars;
With fledged serenading creatures
Behind shut windows of indifferent teachers,  

And alien, dry air in one’s
chest,
Deserting lungs after the heart had been undressed.
Yet for a brief period of time
Whilst a busker performed for a dime

There was a pact between jet setters:
To roam the Roman soil no matter
What it takes, for it has been professed
That we embark on this exhilarating quest.  

As much a blessing as it is curse,
It has no expiration date, unlike this verse.
Dear designer of a multi-universe!
Please make, at last, a place come forth

Where writers, both rereading Keats,
Could start a revolution on your paper sheets  
Would you allow?
Might never know, because for now...

...You and I, you and I
Are festive effigies they call their shrine.
Rising above confetti-covered streets,
We regenerate to liberating pagan beats.

Who knows, perhaps, this self-repeating theme
Is, indeed, a dream within a dream;
Perhaps.. The nightly waves after demise
Are morning rays that make up the sunrise.
asgarth Jan 2017
get your head up off that floor and stop making yourself the animal they've always tried making you think you are--don't you see them laughing at you, the ladies' arms craned around their men's necks and in their free hands, flutes of champagne as, in their own minds, they see themselves as jet-setters, stage-stutters, world-changers, male-enslavers, and it's all thanks to what they have between their legs--they are strong, they are women, they are mothers and daughters and nieces and aunts, they are friends, they are comforters, they are salvation, they are life, but they will bring you death if you ask them to--all of this and so much that you can never conceive, this is all that spins about in their heads as one stands and one sits and all smile at the tale of you heading down that hill in a shopping cart--that's you'd even told them you were an expert in navigating a shopping cart was a joke, but for you to demonstrate for them, and then for you to almost **** nearly everyone you'd almost run into: well, it didn't look good for you, and what did it matter that they hadn't invited you to stand there looking up as they couldn't even be bothered to look down on you?--what was important was that you see how you looked through their eyes, that you see you seemed somewhere on the social food chain between clown and worm--and you needed to see yourself like this, you needed to be taken out of your own head where all of your real problems were that you might begin to fix what was the biggest of all these, that this self-image you have of yourself where you are a jester, a buffoon, a trickster, that you are none of these, for these things are not anything even close to what you wanted yourself to be perceived as...but it was all you'd come to take as you couldn't be taken seriously, so you accepted being the one they laughed at--you'd win them all over like that, right?--but it hadn't really occurred to you that they'd never think of you as an actual human being like this, and even as you considered ******* one of them, you came to see that you could share with her whatever you wanted, you could tell her whatever thing you thought was most serious, most pressing, the thing with all the gravitas and drama, but it still could never shake the idea of you she'd already formed in her head that you were a ******* backwards-*** man who wasn't even really a man because you never hit on anyone, you never threatened anyone with physical violence, you never ordered anyone around, and you never even raised your voice--the only way she could tell you were a man was that you kept to yourself, that you didn't talk to anyone, that you preferred your own company and didn't have a wife or a girlfriend or anyone to love you...but there was no way you were ever going to sidle up to her and tell her how amazing she looked in that dress that clutched at her every curve, there was no way she was ever going to accept what you were saying as being part of the larger "dance" that always began with looks and words and ended with ******* and regret and in the most terrible of cases, as you'd already experienced, ******* lifelong regret...which was passing strange to you because she seemed to smile, to regard you in a way she hadn't before, but hadn't you been standing in this very spot in times past where you believed one thing while something quite contrary was taking shape before you?--this was one of those times and you had realized it without being told this time, you knew that she was either lying to herself or she was just toying with the idea of being with you to titillate herself, to pass the time while she waited for something or someone more exciting, more important to come along...but it had occurred to you here and now that that could be said for all of them, and if you were being honest, it could be said of everyone, everyone except you because you were the last one standing, the last one who would pass up the opportunity to be with someone more exciting because you were someone who was loyal, someone who could be trusted to behave like a faithful boyfriend or husband or whatever should behave like...and you despised yourself because of it, and you saw that that whole dream you'd conjured up about her, the one where she had become homeless, where she had lost everything she had had and you had swooped in to help her track it all down and get it all back, that truly, it was in vain because she wouldn't understand your love of antiques and sense of the "old world" would help you be a better person because it would make you see that however fine those things were, that however rare they were, they were just things and when you saw her crying and in need of someone to listen to her, someone to hold her, how could you not come to understand that that love for old things couldn't compare with your love of people, that you'd only ever wanted to be surrounded by people who would try to do as you did, that you too had wanted to be held and stroked, that sometimes you could've cared less about ******* because all you'd wanted was to fall sleep against the breast of the one who'd told you to relax and close your eyes, that no harm would come to you because she wouldn't let any harm come to you, that you should just get whatever rest you could and that she'd be more than happy to be the one you trusted enough to fall asleep against...you could've told her all these things about your but, really, what good would any of it have done you?--remember, you had wanted to win friends, you had wanted to not be alone and so you'd allowed them to paint you as you'd made yourself appear out of thin air: as the one who would make them laugh...you couldn't have known then that it was something that'd be impressed upon them as the one and only thing you'd ever be, you couldn't have suspected that in its own way, it was a ******* death sentence for you and for the kind of life you'd always dreamed about living, for no, you'd never get a woman like that, you'd never attract a wife or girlfriend or any female who'd want to have and raise children with you, for you were the ******* fool, you were the freak of life who'd made them laugh for years and that's all you'd ever be, and that lie you'd told yourself that that's how you'd win them all over, through laughter, that was only for men with money, men with striking hair and striking good looks, men with the patience and the intelligence and the soul to endure the pains of having to reinvent oneself, and this last one, this was most definitely not you--you had told them all in action and in spirit to go **** themselves--you never had to say and they never had to hear it, especially the way you'd gone about things: first by making them laugh and then when you discovered the ugly repercussions of your choice, by ignoring them completely, by seeing them and saying nothing, by not even greeting them--this is how they had come to eventually you, for what were you now but this controllable, unpredictable creature that did one thing and then did another totally unrelated to the first?--yes, you had succeeded in doing exactly what you'd never wanted to happen: they feared you, they stayed the **** away from you, and you were never on their minds in any way you'd like to smile and swell upon...unless of course you had finally sold yourself to the fiend, unless you'd come to see that you had always been the fiend, that you had only tried to re-invent yourself as something other than the great satan and when you'd failed, all that was left for you to do was to smile at your own isolation and loneliness, for isn't this what would've happened in any case, even if you hadn't tried to make them laugh as a desperate gambit to win them over?--so no, you weren't about to share with her the dream you'd had where you two had lived in the same apartment building but in different suites, that one day in this dream she'd come over and after spending some time together you two had come to see how much you'd always had in common and never knew it, so much so that you had fallen in love and married and broken up all in the span of minutes when after a brief conversation you found yourself alone all over again and looking over at the spot where she'd sat and wondering why it always had to be like this even in your dreams--why bother sharing something that she'd find funny as hell when it had been the crux of your soul?--that your suffering would be the cause of her laughter, something that she'd share with her friends and end with, "...can you imagine that?: being married to him?!"--it's not even that it was too much to conceive of, but that it was only more than natural for you to conclude a dream of trying to connect with her, or with anyone--that you had seen failure in your mind long before you would ever consider trying to talk to her or any of them in real life, this is what made you want to walk away smiling at yourself because in some outré way, you'd always been right about them being beneath you, so beneath you that you had to play the fool to entertain the idea that they were worthy of your time...it was only that you'd forgotten your true worth and when you remembered, it's not like it was a celebration of your acumen or ability, no--it was just another ******* funeral you'd love attending in the rain and with that smile spreading wider and wider and that threatened to crack open the very jaws of life and death in its silent scream--
Zac Walter Jan 2018
Anti meta
Comcrete set up  
Setters of faulty
Metaphors for people
Who lift up lofty heads
But live up to sheeple
Templetes originated
from deathly dates
With themselves
us who help also need help    
Dark and light felt
Then dealt like oh well
Welp in the wealth of emotion
a potion of feathery pelts donned
Like ethreal dust held on songs
time pawned from before time
When life was long,
horizons  dawn  held in cymatics
of gongs, elastic and long light
Semantics derived of mind
Conciousness aligned like nature upon paper
The concious cant arrive at a savior. Plight of those lost in the layered  reality catered to totality
the  fader is  banality
Launches fate in fame and fatality
Poetry Boulevard Mar 2018
I think I should make it public
How my love for compsci’s static
                     My hatred is a void
                                             main(String args[]){
Where should I start?
Where DO {
I start?

BREAK; it down
To packages to classes
I might just need glasses
Primitives and variables
Freedom: Inevitable.

Step 1: Initialize
Step 2: Declare
Step 3: glare
Then pull out your hair.

Int and Strings
Those petty things
I’d rather float
Than write oop notes

IF my love for this
Was put digitally
boolean love = true;
You have no ******* clue!

Private or public?
A Return or a void?
Oh functions
Just send me to oblivion

Those red squiggly lines
I’d rather be blind
It’s only one sign:
There’s millions more of its kind!
Case 1:
The brackets that contain
everything.
There’s the round ones
The squiggly ones
The square ones
That come in a pair

Case 2:
Dots.
I’d rather be on ***.

Case 3:
Capital
Letters.
Static
Behaviours.
Comp-sci, my saviour
I love shedding tears.

G
U
I.
More like ******* goodbye
Grid layout my ***
Only way it’d look nice
If it was FOR Windows95

I should just make an arraylist of MyLove[];
Because my love for compsci
cannot be bound by numbers

Oh! OP -
Don’t forget the getters
And the ****** setters
I’ll set this straight.
I don’t get
your
traits.
}
}
The spit ran down the flag pole as a thousand people ate cabbage in Poland, noodling & nudging each other like monkeys on television,
unaware of sportsmanship that was imported just for them from Turkey when nobody had good jobs and waiters were too anxious, or filled with anxiety, to operate operations in an operative mode...
jeffrey robin Jul 2015
"


I love  YOU

YOU YOU YOU !!

( you mean .... Me (?) )

No no !

It's just a generic term --- meaning " my love "

///

I love YOU

YOU YOU YOU !!



( well -- Why are you addressing it to ME ?

Why don't you just tell " your lover "

And leave me out of it )

///

Because

This is the APPROVED STYLE

Of poetry here on HP

And I want to be popular

So I write the way the

Popular Poets write

I know all the poems sound the same

And the same ole LIKE pictures come up

And the same inane HELPFUL

and COURTEOUS comments appear  

BUT

this is what our

TREND SETTERS

want

&

I do so want to be popular

So

I love YOU

YOU YOU YOU !!

//

( Version # 1, 643, 810 )

Hope you like me !
jeffrey conyers Aug 2019
Church, don't like you to point out the truth.
It would affect the direction they trying to lead you.

Like, how can you preach folks being on their job on time?
But not a church on time?
Sound good, sounds great.
Then why is your church always late?

Remember, the church doesn't like you to point out the truth.
But these the rules setters trying to guide you.
And don't get upset when they invite a few guests and they state the same thing too.

Outsiders, judging you.
But these leaders trying to lead you.
Guide you.

Leaders, in positon but always late.
Deacons that collect the tithes and offerings have lateness down.
And your choir there every now and then.

Oh, the loyal faithful members are very aware of this.
Many, when ministers around address this.
And still, you hear various excuses.

And that infamous phase-God not on our time.
Sound good, great truth.
But if Jesus was coming in the flesh.

Watch, how many would be requested to be on time?
And will be there.
Yes, those leaders crying be on time.
Always late.

And that is their biggest mistake because all eyes on them.
Zee Jan 2022
And now that it's dying, we'll ******* to space
Instead of ever trying to fix up the **** place
Like a careless land lord, exploiting the slums
All that matters are our buildings' incomes

We'll go to school and learn to be better
Do our best to earn an award from a debtor
Then enter our sector with these older wage setters
And realize we were tricked by a scarlet letter

I don't know, maybe we're all just ******?
Tired of pushing our luck?
You pushed a gun up to our heads

There's people always dying out East
To look and listen really is just the least
******' thing we can do for them, ain't it?
If only the domestic Nazis would quit

"We ain't got a problem with guns," we got a problem with killers,
Police, race, wages, gender, ***, and the community pillars
Blame drugs and depravity 'stead of the system that ****** us
Like a date-***** co-ed sent home on the last express bus


I don't know, maybe we're all just ******?
Tired of pushing our luck?
You pushed a gun up to our heads

I don't know, maybe we're all just ******?
Tired of pushing our luck?
You pushed a gun up to our heads

Trigger finger, now we're dead
Big Virge Sep 2020
See I'll ...
ASSASSINATE Your Character ...  
If You Expose Vernacular ...    
That Proves You **** ... !!!    
    
WHAT ... Yuh Like Dracula ... !!!    
    
Like Jeru’ I Will Damage Ya ...    
With Wordplay That's ...    
    
... " SPECTACULAR " ... !!!!!    
    
That Proves That I'm ...    
..... "NO Amateur" ...... !!!    
    
See My Prose HITS Cons ... !!!    
Because It's STRONG ... !!!    
And Clearly Belongs ...    
In A Place BEYOND ...........................    

WEAK Characters Patter ...    
Because My Grammar ....    
***** Back That HAMMER  ...    
Like A ... BAD Mamma Jammer ... !!!    
    
But I DON'T NEED Guns ... !!!    
Cos' My Wordplay ... STUNS ... !!!    
    
If You SHOOT I've WON ... !!!    
Cos' Like … OB1 …
I Will Simply Become ...    
MORE POWERFUL Son ...    
Than A Government Run ...    
By ... ATTILA THE *** ... !!!!!!!    
    
See My Wordplay's CLEVER ...
Just Like MY MIND ... !!!    
So DON’T You … EVER ...  
DISRESPECT My Rhymes ... !!!    
    
Because That's A CRIME ... !!!    
For Which You'll Face TIME ... !!!    
Before You're Resigned ...    
To Face A ... FIRING Line ... !!!    
    
of V's ... " Vendetta Letters " ...    
Which Means That I Will END YA ... !!!!!  
    
So NO Return to Sender ...    
I DON'T Have Time To Render ...    
Trend Setters Whose Agenda ...    
Is That of ... Bone Collectors' ... !!!    
    
Their Assassination's ...    
My ... " Vocation " ... !!!!!!!    
    
NO Relating ... !!!    
Just Straight Berating ... !!!    
For Characters HATING ... !!!    
    
Those Whose Station's ...    
… Next To SATAN ... !!!      
    
LYING And CHEATING ... !!!!!    
Because Their Being's ...    
Lacking The STAMINA ... !!!    
To Be A STRONG Character ... !!!    
    
If ... Seeing Is Believing ... ?!?    
Then BELIEVE THIS Son ... !!!!!    
    
I AIN'T The One  ...      
To Be Treated Like ....    
    
.... A HEATHEN .... !!!!!    
    
I Can Hear It In Your Speech .... ???    
You're Breathing Needs ...    
...... "RECEIVING" ..... !!!    
    
It's Clear That You Are WEAK ... !!!    
And I'm ABOVE Your Ceiling !!! ...    
    
ENLIGHTENED ... Yes ... !!!!!!!    
    
So DON'T You Test ... !!!!
UNLESS You Express ...    
To Get ... DISTRESSED ... !?!    
    
See Your Character LACKS ...    
A … GOOD Defence ..... !!!!!    
    
So I Think It's Best ....    
That YOU Just REST .........    
    
Before I PROSECUTE ...    
Right To Your END ... !!!!!!    
    
And It DOESN'T Make Sense ...    
For You To REFUTE ....    
Your Characters' DEATH .... !!!!!    
    
It's Better For You To just Be Cool ...    
BEFORE You Get Schooled ...    
On Your .... " ISSUES " .... !!!      
    
See I've Seen Em' Come ...    
I've Seen Em' ... GO ...    
    
Most Get Struck ...   ...    
By BIG VIRGE Prose ...    
Cos' It Flows It groWS ...    
And Eventually BLOWS ...    
A ... Force Ten Gale ... !!!    
That Then DERAILS ...    
    
ANY Train of Thought ...    
That Is NOT PURE ..... !!!!!    
    
So Son Be SURE ... !!!!!!    
BEFORE Ya RUN Your Jaws ... !!!    
    
That Words You Use ...    
Air … LOGICAL VIEWS .... !!!!!    
Cos' I'm A  Logical Dude ...    
Who AIN'T Confused .... !!!    
    
Does Confused Define YOU ... ?!?    
    
If It Does You Should Choose ...    
To Do ... LESS SPEAKING ...    
    
Come On Now Son .... ?    
SAVE YOUR BREATHING .... !!!    
    
Before You're Caught Short ...    
Cos' of Views You Court ...    
That You SHOULD ABORT ... !!!!!!    
    
See That's A Character FLAW ... !!!    
Running .... " BIG TALK " ....    
When You Should ... LISTEN ...    
And STOP Your ... Hisssssssing ... !!!    
    
See That's A Trait of SNAKES ...    
Or A ... Straight Up FAKE ... !?!    
    
Well NOT QUITE Straight Up ... !!!    
    
Just FAKE As .... WHAT .... ?    
NO NEED To CUSS ... !!!    
Cos' My Vernacular's ABOVE ...    
Those ... TARANTULA Bugs ... !!!!!    
    
Ya Know ...    
    
"Creeps that crawl and don't go to The Ball    
cos' their mouth's TOO BIG for the shoe to fit !”    
    
Characters Who Enlist ...
Behaving Like ... PIGS ... !!!    
    
Feeding From The Trough ...    
of Those NOT STRONG ... !!!    
    
YUP Those Who WREAK ...    
of ... "FEEBLE SPEECH" ... !!!    
    
Who Like To DICTATE ...    
Then ... EXTERMINATE ... !!!    
    
The Type of INGRATES ...    
BIG VIRGE ... ASSASSINATES ... !!!
    
Cos I'm A ... " CHARACTER ASSASSIN " ... !!!    
    
Whose Flows Are EVERLASTING ... !!!    
And Sometimes Kinda Funny ...    
Just Like  THAT ****** Bunny ... !!!    
    
"So, what's up son ... ???"
    
"The Doc's been hung !    
Your time has come to face questions ?"    
    
"What's that you say ... ?    
I ain't so great, okay okay,
well let me set you straight      
with these last lines !"
    
See My Character's STRONG ...    
While Yours ... BELONGS ...    
In A VERY .... "small box" ....    

Where Your … very small **** … !!!    
    
Can Feed Your Brain ...    
With ***** For Your Demons ... !!!
    
Son You Should REFRAIN ...    
From Taking AIM ...    
At Those Whose Prose ...    
Shows CHARACTER Bro ... !!!    

Cos' Your COLLATERAL ....    
Could Get DAMAGED ... !!!!!!!!    
    
When FACTUAL Words ...    
of ... Seminal Verse ...    
ERADICATE Those SLAMMING ... !!!    
    
Cos' Tha' Brother BIG VIRGE ...    
Is … Simply THIS ....    
    
The ........    
    
... "Character Assassin" ...
LISTEN HERE :

https://soundcloud.com/user-16569179/character-assassin-recorded-at-shoestring-studios?in=user-16569179/sets/the-shoestring-acapellas
Big Virge Aug 2021
Todays’ Speed of Life...
Is More Than Trife... !!!!!  

In Fact Like A Rifle...
It Can Quickly Stifle...  
Or Shake Like Trifles... !!!  
  
When Stability’s Made...  
To Make UPGRADES...  
Just To Keep Pace...  
With Life Today... !!!  
  
From Getting Laid To Getting Paid...  
The Pace of Change Moves Like USAIN...  
When He Would Run...  
At The Olympic Games... !!!  
  
But As With Him...  
Todays’ Speed of Life...  
... Inevitably Wins...  
  
When It’s What Makes...  
You... PULL Up LAME... !!!!!
  
Because of New Breeds...  
of... Systemic CHEATS...  
Whose Speed Is GREED... !!!!!  
  
Well By This I Mean...  
The Type of Teams...  
Who Nowadays Lead...  
  
LIARS And THIEVES...  
Who Act As Though...  
  
They’re ON A Diet of SPEED...  
******* And Dreams of Supremacy... !!!  
  
Yeah That’s Right...  
The Speed of... WHITE... !!!  
  
WHITE This WHITE That...  
As If They’re The Ones...  
Who Deserve To Stash...  
  
The Type of Drugs...  
That Do MORE Than Hash... !!!  
  
Like The Type of FAST CASH...  
That Passes Through Hands...  
That Live Life... FLASH... !!!  
  
While The Rest of Us DASH...  
... To Pay LAND TAX...  
For Land We Don’t Have...  
Or Actually... OWN...  ?!?
  
THINK About It... YO... !!!  
  
Where You Call HOME...  
DEMANDS Bank Rolls...  
That Bankers HOLD...  
  
Just Like The Deeds...  
That Go To Show...  
That When They Say...  
  
“Whoa, We Need To Know,  
About Your Cashflow !”
  
They’re Proving How FAST...  
They’re Developing Clones...  
Who Are FAR From Smart...  
They’re Now Walking JOKES... !!!  
  
Whose Form of FAST...  
Is DEFINITELY... SLOW... !!!!!!  
  
You See...  
Todays’ Speed of Life...  
Is Confusing Minds...  
And Excluding Child...  
  
Because of Agendas...  
That Are Filled With Letters...  
Now DEFINING Genders... ???  
  
So... V for Vendetta...  
Is My Stand FOREVER... !!!  
  
When It Comes To These Fellas...  
... New Age Trend Setters...  
  
Whose Closets Now Open...  
Like I Keep Flowing... !!!  
  
Cos My Speed of Rhyme...  
Is Synchronised....  
With... LOGICAL Vibes...  
  
So Yes Those UNLIKE...  
Todays’ Speed of Life... !!!!!  
  
Because My Mind...  
Feeds What I Write...  
At The Speed of Light... !!!
  
Well A Speed of Rhyme...  
Beyond The Crimes...  
That Are Now Designed...  
  
To RESTRICT The Speed...  
That TRUTH Gets SEEN... !!!  
  
On SCREEN Or In Speech... !!!  
  
It’s A SPEED MACHINE... !!!  
That Feeds These Teams...  
Whose Beliefs Now Seem...  
  
To Be Mean And Demean...  
Basic FREEDOM of SPEECH... !!!  
  
Now That’s NOT RIGHT... !?!
  
But Is Now The Design...  
That Seems To DEFINE...  
  
... “ Todays’ Speed of Life “... !!!
In these CRAZY Times, I think much can be drawn from the speed at which most people now live their lives !

Sometimes, maybe people should just slow down a lil' bit and THINK !
Qualyxian Quest Aug 2021
Father Greeley was so unique
Never seen another priest like him

If you play with Irish setters
You can surely spike 'em

Me near the Book of Kells
Quite far from Chicago

I mentioned him to the man
Mystery? Now they know

                  Overthrow!
Qualyxian Quest Mar 2023
Ms. Allison Clark
Surprised she kept my letters
The mysticism of the Dark
Open. Irish setters.

Prayers for the animals
Indigenous eagle feathers
All God's Dangers
Follow the wind and the weather

I like stained glass windows
Genuflected twice
South Side of Chicago
Oooo dat girl looked nice!

My brain bleeds poems
Some times I'm an egg
John Brown. Nat Turner.
Ahab with the peg.

          Bulkington!
It has been my hope to turn hamsters into Irish setters but right now
I'm too busy collecting from dead debtors & ******* off bed-wetters
Ken Pepiton Aug 20
The instance in sequence,
pure, take away support
premises fall as objects of thought.

Exceeding material enclosure
falling in perfect form enclosing us

as we think we both agree
words form information,
we live in a new message set,
click, catch phrase, signature lines,
the work of the letter setters set minds,
with the time saving stretch to compress
the sense of trust from a sense of true rest.

Cliché  click, carry on my wayward son.
Amen means what one may imagine.
And if two or more agree, we see
it all fits, eventually, nothing to fret.
Inspired click during Anais Vionet's
the old poets

— The End —