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Mikkel Mathiesen Jul 2016
The world is made of ****
and I'm a joker to the story
Gone in a moment of bliss
because I didn't seek glory
-- bore me

"It's a new day tomorrow",
they say ignorant and hollow
"Seek your dreams and a great life will follow"
however the flaming lord is still waiting below
-- drag me to the galow

A smile turned to a frown,
I'm sorry to let you down
But gone is my clown
and now begins my countdown

Brown town bring me the crown
Make me king of **** and let Minaj be the next centuries hit,
flick her *** while we drown in spit from Trump the Dump, a camel has two lumps
-- ****

Burn me and put me in an urn
All we want is money to earn
When will we learn that happiness should be our biggest concern?

Happiness: Hidden in society and locked away in plastic, happiness is free but requires a key
-- fantastic
All the while probably as fake as the *** of the Kardashian, and just as far fetched as the marsian

We say we are all a part of the innocent
but then who are we to blame for the mess we make?
Cecelia Francis Aug 2015
Moon princess
always- too volatile
for a prince or king-
stranded in a cold crater
created from some flaming
tongue lashing then leashed.

Some stupid *** quote says:
"If you can't handle me at my worst, you don't deserve me at my best"
But it should really be:
"If you can't handle me at my worst then maybe I ought to go the **** away until you can tolerate me again because I'm not in any position to foist my shitstorm on anyone"

Or maybe I should stick to the original
Constantly inbetween inordinate pride that says I deserve the world and my gut telling me I'm not worth ****
Bardo Nov 2022
Drinking at the bar, I suppose it was that time of night
When the Drink itself starts doin' most of the talking
And the guy says "I've been through the **** man, in this life, I've waded knee deep through it... the deep ****"
And the other guy says "What **** you talking about ?"
So he told him, yea! He spins out his tale of woe
Of hurts and grievances, injustices and false accusations, bruises and batterings received both physical and mental
A whole sorry catalogue of troubles, of fights and quarrels, anxieties and illnesses, struggles with various multiple monsters..."
When he's finished the Other says rather dismissively "You call that ****, that ain't ****... that's *******! Sure my **** was bigger than that, much bigger
The **** I went through, Man! Some of the **** I seen...indescribable man'
So then he starts to spin his tale of woe... more ****!
And when he's finished the Other comes back at him saying
"****! You call that ****, that's horseshit!
My **** was bigger than that, much much bigger!!
Your ****, it's just... it's just *****!"

And so, there they were the two of them, at the bar arguing to and fro
About whose **** was the bigger
Till suddenly over in the corner, out of the shadows, with his face half obscured
This man, he clears his throat rather loudly
Causing them both to momentarily stop their bickering and look over
He then slowly raises a glass of JD (Jack Daniels) to his lips and takes a long sip
Then he says "What do you know about... the **** ?
Huh! (said in disgust) You don't even know what **** is
Why, my ****'s bigger than both your two ***** put together"
Then he smiled a menacing smile and said "You wanna hear my **** story"
So he spins his tale of woe, a real shitstorm...
A real Moby ****... of ****
The others they listened in awe
When he'd finished, One said very impressed
"Man!..Man That's... that's some ****"
Then another said "That's Big **** !"
And another "That's real Elephant **** Man!"

Then silence reigned in the bar
Until one sighed and said wearily
"It's all ****... this *****... isn't it?
Talking **** at the bar. Someone else's **** is always bigger than your own. What kind of **** are you shoveling LoL.
James Floss Aug 2018
I wanna be bigger than the Hulk
Louder than Shatner yelling "Kaaaaahn!”
Gorshin cackling as the Riddler
With Meredith waddling behind

Faster than the Flash
Stronger than Superman
Richer than Bruce Wayne
More wonderful than lasso woman

I need an origin story
Radioactive tick bite
Radiodactive side kick
Radio waves from fingertips

I need drama that’s not mellow
***** show in a shitstorm
Facing the hounds of hell
In my Deus ex Machina
Terry Jordan May 2017
There was a crooked man
Who had a crooked smile
Secured a crooked Russian loan
With putin on speed-dial

He had 3 crooked marriages
He lives a crooked life
Cheating, lying, self-promoting
Wants Daughter-not his Wife

He “won” a crooked election
Just to steal more money
Investigators fired THREE times
His tantrums are not funny!

He pushed a crooked bill
Despite collective cries
Desperately tweeting diversions
Ignore those Russian ties!

Crooked Sarah Sanders
Smiles as she repeats his lies
Look behind the curtain
Prevent Democracy’s demise

This vile crooked man-child
Lives in a crooked White House
Embarrassing the World
A tweeting presidential louse

A shitstorm pouring out
With bad grammar and no style
Desperately denying collusion
Time to put them all on TRIAL
Liam Dierl Feb 2013
Don’t put off til tomorrow what you can do today
Its always work work work and no more play
working hard or hardly working
well trust me no one’s really working
they would much rather be jerking off
the some hot ***** buxom blonde
they found while surfing
the (alternative to working) world wide web
but that won’t change the ebb and flow
it’s nothing but ******* stop and go
a shitstorm of ‘hurry up and wait’
that makes us indecisive babies
because specialization creates dependence
what happened to the renaissance men on our planet?
a man can only do so much
and woman only gives her touch
what? so there’s no more time in life to learn
and I’ll just have to wait my turn?
what about potential? I’m ready to be educated
there’s more to life than wasting time getting wasted
and self-fornicated
let me tell you how to do your job
you’re in my way, I won’t be robbed
of any chance I have to be the best, I wanna impress
but mere population overflow represses my need to show
show you how I can run this show
all by myself, I know,
I sound like an *******, we could all be fantastic
if we weren’t so fanatic just cuz we don’t fill a quota
that determines our determination
when we fill out simple-minded worksheets or switch stations
that’s messed up
we might as well give up and become chronic masterbaturs
Sie Nov 2017
Yo, I didn't think it could get any worse.
Except now i'm sitting here alone.
I must have a curse.
My best friend left because of where I found a home
for my heart.

She is my everything I don't understand why she's gone.
Is my happiness really that toxic.
Could it really be that bad.
Could it just be.Me?

It doesn't really matter now.
I'm alone and drowning in my demons.
Ice and smoke , I must be dreamin'
I've let myself bleed and I let myself bow,
to the new king

I am not me, I'm ruled by darkness and hate and sadness alike.
She left me and now I have nowhere to turn.
I've called for help, but that's when they strike.
Bad habits, Bad feelings, Bad drugs, that's what i'll learn.
**** **** **** **** i can actually feel myself slipping. hes going to leave soon, ill end up doing something he hates, and then ill actually die ill be truly alone and nobody will care. IF THEY HAD CARED THEY WOULDNT HAVE LEFT.
Barton D Smock Nov 2014
he beats the mother and calls it practice.  the washer breaks and he throws the clothes into a full tub and stomps on them while smoking a cigarette.  he provokes my image to send him back to his rightful nose.  my thick skull is high on my spit.
404 Nov 2016
I see you in the distance, happily hoisting up a ****

"Hey, this one looks like your mother!"
I love you
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
i like the thought of the dynamic between words such
as presupposition  supposition and proposition -
i'm holding a book of philosophy is one hand
and a newspaper in the other: one certainly feels heavier -
   so many lives are documented
daily, without a fail, and it's sad to say: they don't
matter... but that's what it feels like
holding a book of philosophy and a newspaper:
         people get degraded into
things:
             res absquecogito (a thing
without a thought - actually
a thing without the verb of thought,
what with thought being the crowned
prince of nouns):  some do say that
thinking if the doing part or not doing
anything...
     sometimes i write and think i do not exist,
such is the overpowering stance of the people...
     but you're still left with newspaper in
one hand, and a book on philosophy in the other...
  the reason that philosophy doesn't solve anything
is because philosophy is a word of practiced
misanthropy - it just says:
i'm here, my thinking is hardly utopia:
but i don't want you to experience my problems
and make them real or phantasmagorical
as the sold solution: you avoid me,
i avoid you: we'll be fine.
  hence the juggling of of presuppositions,
suppositions, propositions and
      trying to keep your mouth shut
with enough pronoun surgery to an out-dated
Michael Jackson face and enough prepositional
leeway to protest for an amendment
to protect and: altogether losing that freedom,
readied for shouting as is the case.
what a difference though...
        a literary medium "siding" with the people,
and a literary medium "siding" with itself...
         what a disparity between the two...
       such is the shitstorm:
presupposition(s), suppositions,
   preposition(s) and propositions -
      the a before a god,
suppose there is a god,
     then let us presuppose that suppose / supposedly
so?          proposing something also works
with the same dynamic, a proposition has
to be grounded in a preposition -
                           presupposition dynamics are fun though,
you have no propositions for them,
        all you have are prepositional shrapnel itemisation
a- (without, by way of indirect)
     and           -the (bad mannered pointing at it, or by
way of direct)         articulation: summed with an -ism.
         prepositional dynamism has nothing suppositional
concerning god, hence it has no propositional
      about the most economically franchised / effective
variation of philosophical expression: lost the narrative,
ergo we encourage aphorisms and maxims.
       language needs systematisation to reveal to us
individually what words we'll be juggling systematically,
perhaps it's the re- and re- and and re- res
             reflective reflexive repetition thing...
or it might be throwing a guarding prefix
into the argument: akin to the already stated
within a framework of the pre- vs. pro- attaché
that comes prior to the suggestion...
    supposing there is a god vs. presupposing
  the supposition that there is a god... zenith: what's god?
nadir: propositioning that there is a god vs.
         prepositioning that there is a supposition of
god...
         equilibrium? propositioning a presupposition
vs. the supposition of a prepositioning:
the arguments will never end, it's just a question
how you make peace with the shared experience of
internalising sounds and encoding them in 26 characters
that are, to be frank, underdressed in terms of formalising
a standardised accented basin...
at its height language can become akin to
arithmetic, philosophers are, actually, brilliant arithmetic
artists, they can't write you a Tolstoy,
or a Camus... but they can write you a great 1 + 1 = 2...
  it's not even being economic wird words,
   it's more like Robinson Crusoe was stranded on
a beach, his tools included a coconut and a matchstick:
build me Philadelphia! obviously it didn't happen
overnight... but it somehow happened.
           that's why mathematical orthodoxy has
nothing to do with mental or signatured arithmetic,
              philosophy meets that disparity too,
obviously this stance isn't a Lady Gaga moment of
cool populism: it's shadowy and obscure,
because why would it not be so?
                  philosophers are the great arithmetic
conglomerate of spell-checks...
           hence no Napoleon invading Russia
and courtesy talk of privilege over a samovar session
and more of the odious rubric:
                 and nul scores for coherency and
creating an imaginative rekindling from a mistake made...
nul scores!
     mathematicians are bad at numerical arithmetic,
philosophers are only good at alphabetical arithmetic
(and yes, it's a kind of arithmetic:
made really difficult by babel-compounding
of non-distinct units due to the missing diacritical
marks): and in the Crimean chimera sense?
      mathematicians are good at abstracting arithmetic
in their stance on isolating symbols,
whereby π is designated the 3.14 bubble...
       and pretty much all of the Greek is scientifically
prone to encourage a stabilisation...
     people like us, working from such heights into
wording everything in an alchemical format of
lodging and connecting things together have to necessarily
spot obstacles... i know that i stress the Edenic
circumstance of the English language without
diacritical marks, but are serious journalistic outlets
suggest: about 14% of English girls are vaguely literate.
       the existence of the "other" arithmetic is
quiet poignant although remotely acknowledged...
it appears rightly asserted when someone actually has
a competence with a language (encoding an obscure number
of variations of sprechen): but still faulter / flawters /
                 ah! falters on what's otherwise, clearly
a very easy arithmetic puzzle: 0 1 2 3 4
                        a b c d e
calculator                       hence put       b d e
together into a coherency passed down to others...
cul de sac, i.e. bed.
                    a bit like the alphabet cut into three:
0 (a)     z (26):
         it emerged from the lost clarity of English ponce:
or keeping onto power, spellcheck had to be invented,
along with algorithm search engines to correct
what would otherwise be non-distinct correlatives:
had they been properly attired with distinct barriers -
  could have been worse,
we could have had Arabic as the tongue of globalisation,
but then again, as the myth goes (according to
cradle of filth within her ghost in the fog):
                                 an arabian nightmare probably
doesn't envision an alien invasion.
It's sort of nice when we can't put names on things
because it precludes the shitstorm that is invoked
by using language
with it's presuppositions
and predispositions.

Objectivity is scarce in a world of memories.

The truest things are anomalous.
Anonymous; without names:
by their very nature,
Ineffable. Paradoxical.

Wonderful.
mads Feb 2015
you scare me,
with the way that you say you love me.
you shake my bones til their own souls rattle ,
each time you call me yours.
you put my stomach in knots so ******* tight,
when you whisper sweet liquor soliloquies to me under the newborn sun.

why am i so terrified,
by the way you love me?
for you don't hit, scream, or manipulate,
you only have ever shown me roses even when i deserved weeds.

just the idea of someone loving me as much as you say you do makes my entire body quake.
i hear your quiet sighs when i flinch as your hand skims mine trying to intertwine them.
and at night when you hear my seismic tears hit the pillow with the faintest thuds,
you always ask whats a matter but i fall silent each time.
each time.
each time
i am so ******* weak i cannot even orchestrate the possibilities of words worthy enough to bring to light the hell that dreams behind my lips and the nuclear war in my head.  
i see them,
i see them,
i see them,
the hungry protectors and warriors of my mind own battle
they hit the ground with the force of cruise liner,
i see them drowning in my cerebral cortex,
and then i see you.
and i wonder how you got in,
why you even wanted to exist in the shitstorm of a brain like mine.
maybe i started this war,
just because I'm too weak to let the gold of another mingle with my pennies.
and it is such a ******* shame that i hate myself too much to let you end the war in my head,
and it is such a ******* shame that i hate myself too much to let you drown the hell behind my lips.
kiryuen Jul 2015
oh, woe is me
forgot to water my cacti for five months
and accidentally left all my sentences hanging
I can’t stop drawing smiley faces with noses
and making rude jokes and laughing at them
my pet turtle is dying
came home and sat by him for a long while
his eyes are swollen and his shell peels
and still he tries to stay alive
I quietly watched him struggle to breathe
then proceeded to accomplish nothing
the sun says “ha, loser” as it goes down
the moon fades in on cue,
looks at me and tells me “get yourself together”
my mother prays about me every night
my father rebukes me every morning
I’m sorry I can’t be more useful
or bring more glory
lol did I just pretend to be upset because
I felt that that would be the correct (expected?) reaction
like I’m supposed to feel some remorse
to be indifferent, or not to be indifferent
that is the question
the sun is setting just for me
I can give up too
is it possible to give up if I never tried
did I try
I lay in bed and pretend to sleep
I’m sleeping so I don’t have to face anything
what do you mean put in effort
what kind and how much effort do you consider effort
dragging my body out from under the sheets in itself is trying
making myself some coffee to stay up at night is trying
gathering my books into a neat stack on a table is trying
oh, but you know, I can’t say I actually tried
I don’t want to talk until I’ve cleared my head
not like there’s anything up here anyways
God please grant me an ounce of common sense
while struggling with myself, I think of the smiley face with the nose
I’m guessing that’s the kind of expression I should be making about now
I should stop treating life like a bad joke
but I have yet to find something that makes me cringe that badly
or facepalm myself that hard
occasionally the universe tells a good joke
I slap my knee like a great grand pappy and laugh nonstop
sometimes it is annoying and meaningless
I sit in the shower for an hour nonstop
obligations glare at me harder
“go away I’m naked”
“so not only are you a failure, you are a naked failure”
I slap my knee and laugh nonstop
that was an example of one of life’s good jokes
I get out of the shower and into the bed
again I pretend to die
vaguely I recall
the other day stepping out the shower all I remember is
please forgive me please forgive me
three words tripping over themselves and mind reeling
watch out, shitstorm approaching
by habit, I panic
see the correct response is to climb out from under the sheets, make a coffee and arrange my books in order
don’t forget to look really anxious
I spend most of my life huddled with knees drawn up against my chest
praying for storms to pass and wars to end
7pm the sun will tell me again “can you not be pathetic”
and the moon will fade in on cue, saying
“you’re still all over the place”
Reece Nov 2015
Down
Midnight shoreline, down
Where the horizon meets the sky
We go down

Towards
Meager but eager, towards
Forever inching away from the lie
Moving towards

[The cold shower wakes you from slumber land
where the clouds were only vapour
and their atom bomb, shell casing suicide shitstorm
was but a nightmare in the mind of the Monarch larvae]

You could buy stocks in Halliburton
make a cool mil
Profit from the prophet, manufacture more than hate
Hollow tips, shallow hipped ***** on the pixel paradigm ***** site
Third eye magistrate, legislation of the pallid nation
Awe-struck in a hazy daze of bullet hole days
Don't ******* play with me, sunshine
David still has his **** in the mouth of a pig
and his own mouth on the great **** of Israel

{REDACTED VERSE}

So we go

Down
Midnight shoreline, down
Where the horizon meets the sky
We go down to baseline loneliness of the soul
and tear our clothes from the vessels we sold

Down we go, to watch the world end
"When a person is undergoing trauma induced by electroshock, a feeling of lightheadedness is evidenced; as if one is floating or fluttering like a butterfly."

Set the stage for light's down
                                                    Fire from the barrel
           Power from the saddle
Or                                                   in fact                       we could all
     r  e  m  e  m  b  e  r                                 the days    we laughed




**The burden of Damascus**

Passivity of the already broken.
Ryan V Nov 2015
Forging in mind’s eye the assumption of reliable consumption of reality. Where the nativity of creativity begins condensation while receiving condemnation en masse. A shitstorm rages now, a widowmaker of incomprehensible complications to the causality of casualties of class. Discouraging color, forcing the implication of domestication of thought, wearing casual ties and carrying a briefcase, all for hope of a brief taste of success in excess. Do not assume that I can be reduced to my résumé.
Tarasite Aug 2019
With all the options
there are to follow-
I choose the one
thats hardest to swallow.

The vast unknown,
and the grief for my life-
are the only things that keep me alive.

My empathy, my love,
I don't share with myself-
I'm empty inside,
its for everyone else.

Why am I here?
Why will I die?
Why do I fear the after this life?

I wish I felt the divine love
And was blissfully blessed
from the heavens above

I would like to believe,
would it make life better?
To fly ignorantly through
this shitstorm of weather?

An anthropomorphic tale of love & fear.
A false positive truth towards our existence here.

No signs from God
No devils to fear
Just my heart to my loved ones
Right now. Right here.

The doom that I carry is only for me,
it slouches my shoulders and cuts at my feet.

But I keep on walking, with my eyes on the ground.
Afraid to look up, for I will be let down.
ordained Feb 2016
and dear god, do you know how ******* frustrating it is?
cat's got my tongue and she's never giving it back,
but maybe she'll be able to speak the words that are stuck on the tip of it
the "no"s and the "come back"s and the "stay here"s

the wind doesn't have a problem speaking her mind
because she's always been round and she always will be and some loud words won't end her
but i
i
i am not the wind
i am not so fearless and casual and trusting
i am in pain, i am stuck in a barbed wire cage of writers' block and separation anxiety

when you leave a piece of my sanity falls away like cigarette ash and i watch it build a mountain at my feet
we've gotten to the point where  i can't even tell how much i love you, it's drowning my chest and turning everything into a sea of heartache and
and
and we know each other so well, it's a shame i see you never
we have our toes dipping into the same ocean but we live on different shores

maybe in the grand scheme of things this deafening longing doesn't mean anything
but god this shitstorm of love and desperation and distance and lust means everything to me
i'm back
e ot Jul 2016
It started out without my knowledge
with tight hugs and
shared coffee mugs
just friends, though
I never wanted our talks to end so
one thing led to another and
hugs led to kisses to touches to
so much more
and that one time
in the beginning
in that packed broadway bar where you never went
but this time you went for me,
spent money you didn't have
so you could spend more time with me,
that one time when you ended up
pushing me away and wouldn't meet my eye
because this was all so sudden
a second ago I was my own person
now I knew that I was yours because
it broke my heart not to see you smile
had I been in denial?
I just want to see you smile
I want to be the reason for that smile
love is just a chemical reaction

So you left yours and I abandoned mine
but is that really a good foundation
for a functioning life
together
I hope so I hope so I hope so
because I don't think about my past
but I can't know where your thoughts go
so I'm going to trust you
and I'm going to ignore what might be the truth
that you still talk about the last one
and you still talk to the previous one
and you still bump into that other one
you see, my chapters are read
I have seen, I have said
that I won't let them affect me
so how hard can it be to
not let all of yours affect, well, ours

You know, one day when I woke up in your bed
eyes still full of grit
nice thoughts in my head
your back turned on me
I accepted the role of the big spoon
her texts on your phone screen
before we'd even said good morning
made a shitstorm out of my good dream

I'm at yours alot, I know that
I write most of our conversations, guess I don't mind it
I feel slightly (very) inadequate, though
when I think of what you might say to her back home
when I compare myself to every. girl. you've. ******
and
every. girl. you. might want to *****
and
no one can undo a cherry they've plucked
because that's the way time works
so it's really not you, it's really just me
and you call me silly for thinking such things
and I know that I'm silly because
because I know you wouldn't just mess around with me
because you said so
you don't think I'm in the way or just
generally annoying to always stay
but I know that you make jokes when you're hurting
and I don't want you to hide from me
because that's burning me
TheRiverStyx Jan 2018
Regurgitate it.
Regurgitate your sentiment.
They will fall on deaf ears.
Then you will bawl, asking "why?"
You can't handle authenticity.
You get no forgiveness.
You refused to accept it.
These words will be lost among the many files of the Internet:

I came for your help.
You denied it.

Whenever I'm vulnerable,
I always steer clear of you.
You will regurgitate your lies.

I opened up to you.
You just brushed it off.

You ask why I never changed.
It's because know I'm correct.

Maturity couldn't even fix things.
You kept your shitstorm going.
When I felt your vileness,
I lashed out.

You never expected this, because you think I have no feelings.
Whine all you like.
Pretend your the hero.
Put on the cape.
Nobody shall hear me writhe in pain.
Nobody shall see the tears.
And I'm stuck ranting about this on the Internet, because that's what it has come to.
Nobody shall hear me.
My thoughts as an individual will apparently forever be hidden in a shroud of lies and smoke and mirrors.

So my sentiment is:
Your sense of honor is a fallacy.
I hope the wheels of fate turn against you.
Adonis Yerasimou Apr 2020
Me
I am a freak, that’s what I am. That’s all I am and all I’ll ever be. (I have to embrace it)
Haven’t you been told so? Haven’t you been warned?? Huh???
A rebel from birth. A mental, emotional and spiritual abomination, I pray upon my physical appearance.
Whilst making my image rot from the inside out and from the outside in.

I’m going through phases of my own. I have dark times myself too. Very DARK.
I hate the very sight of this world. I have taken on monsters at times and they've beat me. This time for good.
I can’t take this anymore. I can’t go through this another day, another hour, another minute, another second.
It seems that all I ever do is done in vain. Nothing’s really going to change. Nothing will ever get better.

I’ll end up getting killed by my own stubbornness. By my own rebellious stance and natural lack of self-control.
They say free will does not exist and I agree. We are human-machines in a mechanical universe.
Our fate has been decided. Long time ago. By gods who were unjust. Disgusting. Immoral
How do you expect me to be perfect in a world who has only showed me its ugly face?

Wandering through life without any purpose. Without any kind of cause. Without a calling of some sort.
How am I supposed to rise among the world of men and women and win against them? Like this? Weak?? Defeatist mindset on the go???
I’m so sick of people at the same time. I want to **** everybody. I detest every living being and life itself.
I hate to go on living. I just have to accept that my life will carry on being a shitstorm, like this from now and on.

Who the **** made me like this?? Who messed me up so badly?? Who did it??? ****! (Crying)
Somebody ****** me up real good! Some people ****** me up for life! I want to find out.
And the best revenge would be for them to be annihilated! For life! Yeah! That would be good!
Stupid imbeciles. I hate you. They time will come for when I’m going to rise from this restorative sleep of mine and then you’ll see for yourself. Who the **** am I!

Will this fight ever stop man? I’m tired of going against the grain. Swimming against the river.
Tell me, Oh wise man, what have you learned from life? Is it worth the effort? The pain? The tears??
I don’t know if I’ll ever win this game. Again I don’t know where I’m going or what I want out from all of this? Where do I stand in all of this madness???
Maybe I just need to let all hell to break loose and let go of inhibitions and rules. To imbue my body and actions with the eternal magic, of my darkest self.
Forgive my obscene and intense language.
Toxic yeti Apr 2019
‪A is for apples ‬
B is for *******
C is for cat
D is for dog
E is for electricity
F is for food
G is for good
H is for heaven
I is for intelligent
J is for jewels
K is kick
L is for love
M is for mother
N is for no way
O is for oh jeez
P is Poppy
Q is for Queen b
R is for red
S is for shitstorm
T is television
U is for unique
V is for valued
W is for witch
X is for x files
Y is for yoda
And
Z is for catching zees.
Barton D Smock May 2015
from self-published collection Misreckon (December 2014)

http://www.lulu.com/shop/barton-smock/misreckon/paperback/product-21954246.html




respite

history is a timeline of appetite. I have rubber bands at the ready for when my mother yawns. I cover my baby brother like a grenade. he was born without the potential for further muscle tone. father calls what I do context. I appear like a bruise into a delayed game of hot potato. my sister’s hands are an oven mitt’s dream. I know you’re a hitchhiker and your girlfriend a cannibal but here we **** our thumbs.


ward

the zero courage
it takes
to be
in pain.  or to be

for that matter

born.  it has devoured

by now
my son’s
vow
of silence.  but he had

didn’t he

a moment
while the animal

ate.


clear heads

while smoking a cigar in the shadow of a nervous minotaur, my father wrote the book on moral isolation. in it, he predicted there would be a television show about hoarders and that it would turn god into a sign from god. my mother read the book cover to cover during her fourth and fastest delivery. if there were edits, she kept them to herself and put his name beside hers on seasonally produced slim volumes of absolute shyness.


fascinations of the upright

above
a ramshackle
transmitter

is my father’s
bright
mind.  

the angel’s mouth is a mouth to feed.

a man
packs a baby
in snow.


shitstorm

he beats the mother and calls it practice. the washer breaks and he throws the clothes into a full tub and stomps on them while smoking a cigarette. he provokes my image to send him back to his rightful nose. my thick skull is high on my spit.



debut

the mechanics of the beheading begin in isolation.

exiled from what it bumps into, a form
aches
for scarecrow.  

     my mother’s dream doesn’t burn.




skip

the boy balances a basketball on his head outside his father’s bar. his mother is somewhere a girl set to play the moon in her school’s version of talent night. his sister is giving birth so calmly her midwife is a male blown away by the fact that it’s only her second time wearing the blindfold I wore to fish. his brother is in therapy to process the loss of others who think we’re gods when we smoke.


nuclei

my mother as a young woman once attempted

in the car of the train her father took to work

to eat her hands.

it was a story she put an end to
but not before
I lost a tooth
putting my baby
brother’s
feet
in my mouth
to keep
them warm.

my brother as a baby
was far
too small.  one might say
he had the brain

of a snake.
Andrew Rueter Apr 2019
You say you have chronic fatigue
I respond with so do I
You say I’m not in your league
The difference is I try

You say you have a disease
So you can stay on your knees
And beg and plead
For sympathy
Then you gatekeep
Based on sleep
So I can’t make a peep
Unless I’m curled in a heap

You have problems
But you abuse this
When you don’t solve them
They turn into excuses
You’re a hypochondriac
In a cycle so black
Your mind is cracked
From panic attacks

I’m not here to jeer
Those paralyzed by fear
But once you are near
I meet your whiny leer
As you show a clear lack of empathy
Saying no one else understands depression
I constantly feel it enter me
I just don’t make the same concessions

I don’t mind if you take medicine
For your head to win
Against the grim
But don’t tell me you have it worse
From your self imposed curse
Living in the back of a hearse
Because when I say you should stop running
I see a shitstorm coming
With war drums drumming
Showing energy that’s stunning
I guess it was reserved for hunting
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2017
(
          )
(

              believe me, that's ****** up...
i'm looking at the moon
thinking... lunar years?
             is it the right time to begin
that sort of strategy?

     so what's a crying face?

)
          (
)

                     like i thought...
in the former the eyes are "crying"
and the mouth is smiling...

          and in the latter case the eyes are
"smiling",
    but the smile is drooping.

          just **** me... but keep the irony;
no, really, **** your english
acronyms,
                      and emoticon stressors
while discussing pronouns...
                *******!
          stick to the emoticons,
don't get involved in pronouns...
like i already stressed...
      *it
is no longer a pronoun,
it's a noun...
             thanks to your "ingenious"
approach to restricting language
the communist never or would ever
         do...
i swear communism was never
linguistic based, or cultural,
   but simply economic biased.
no? ****... i was lied to for the better half
of the 20th century.
                  
**** me... try resurrecting the nazis
at this point... ha ha...
       what shitstorm would come about;
they'd be zombie slowly speaking
german...
          ah---------r, v---------e-----e-----s
              e-------------dio----------­-ts--------
joe-------------kee--------------ing?
               reflex: no?!
                                 oi! stefan! heinrich!
the cattle-carts!
   where they're going?
             auschwitz!
                                  or as i like to call it:
dißneyland.
      whenever in doubt,
                   colon + inverted commas,
or : mmm, mmm + " ",
                      or the heresy of
colon, :,              and italics.
         like i once said: is that supposed
to be quoted....      or       unquoted?
three people talking at once,
          is that the format of christianity?
stephen hawkings playing basketball
                          at the paraolympics?
australia at the eurovision song contest?!
never got to grips with the difference
            between the linguistic zoological
enclosure difference, staged between
the cages '        '
                   and "               ";
                                and i haven't found anyone
to explain this phenomenon to me.
Zilverbacks Dec 2019
Steady if your soul hurts, oh your on it
Dive in but don't drown on your verbal *****
You were caught up in a shitstorm
Ready to reform
It's time
Giving it up

If I could fight through the worst
Dice with devil 'cause the silence hurts
Go on have another hit to see
Let it set you free
Please.
Silently screaming
Giving it up

Like you used too
Like you always do
Just Like you

Instead she’s made it all worse, calm to chronic
Pipe up but don't choke
Maverick or moronic
Never to anticipate pain
Pay to bleed again
It's time
Giving it up

Like you used too
Like you always do

Firing your old thoughts, over shot it
Clear cut but still dirt on you have you forgot it
You were coasting in a slipstream
Never to be seen
Its time

If I could fight through the worst
Dice with devil 'cause the silence hurts
Go on have another hit to see
Let it set you free
Please.
Silently screaming
Giving it up

Like you used too
Like you always do
Like you used to
Like you always do
Like you used too
Like you always do
Zilverbacks - Breakthrough
Lyrics by Chris Harris
Available To Listen Now On All Major Streaming Services

— The End —