Probability isn’t the luck it deserves for wanting desperately to be noticed by any appeals. Generating new focuses never thought possible. If so… Who is the recipient? Who is the lawmaker? Who being the justice department? Goods to making essential markers on productive velocities. Justification is outweighed by department alone. Growing ever scarcer without benefiting attitudes in place. Conjecturing solvent pleasures across many fields. Fields of accessory dependents ensuring a collective term is agreeable. Except, what if probability is outweighed not by something further from its own attitude? What if it can’t benefit itself? In question, becoming misshaped, mispronounced, or misinterpreted. Depending on who’s right, or who’s wrong shouldn’t matter until claims are assured. Propagating across the many fields of accessory dependents. Dependents outweighing the logic one is misshaped by. Demonstrating probabilities mispronouncing sense of terms for oneself. Wrapping up in a crumbled conjecture. Propagating a newer field of already surveyed products. Truth is in the stream that propagates those fields. Accessory moments dependent on gaining tension through the rise of the recipient. That’s the only way probability will ever learn. Hence why it shuts down if it ever involved itself. Itself without its own recipient. Its own justice department. Lawmaker without any dependent ideas would ever appeal to its own logical making, if it’s never dependent on itself. Only flashing the accessory dependent on other influences. Influences going way down the line of certainties without pleasure. Urges relapse. Furthering its own clustered rut! One without mistakes diverging deeper into uncertainties. Taking risks isn’t noticeable. When probability taking risks enough to (blush) down the line of certainties without an aim involved. Scattering their rut from within. But how does it involve probability? It doesn’t. Probability is the representation of how one constant judge itself for pleasure. When pleasurable actions are dependent with a blank impression never sought out. To focused on probability. When probability isn’t fruitful by its own design either. Only way it works. Never looking back in itself. A reflection of tempted attitudes fluttering in a swift, but rigid wind. Wind never tempted by its own sway. If one is to admit what they aren’t even aware of changing. Another shutdown happens! Justifications for probabilities own reckoning depends on other solvents. Solvents who don’t even understand the probabilities of there own life makings. Able to learn what is dependent onto others. Never within themselves directing their starry performance. What happens when things are finally noticeable within probabilities that will exceed probable actions of the force that dictates fates majority complexes? Complexes without variety. Varieties misshaped by mishappenings of trust. Which includes a basic awareness of some factor never hesitating to judge within the core of being itself. A view fate designs in its weapon of probability very well. What is fate up to…? Never can guess when probability shuts down all appliances out of contact with no one but itself left in the dark. Probability is. Everything has just become disowned. Fate exchanging glances with itself for one last second, before rapping up this little diverse expression. Pinpointing its weapon of probability without knowing why that is? Hinting at fate not being the only recipient to follow in its weapons obstructed desires.

Congressional stuck at the bend
Now when and how long will this Government shutdown end?
Eyes of America wondering when
Immigration being the top discussion
But it seems immigration has became more of a percussion
Republicans want their way
The Democrats are saying not on this day
This is where we all need to pray
Some Government services will seem to stop
Protestors in force making their voices with a mock
It will be a moment being a long wait
A mourning being a fate
The thought for Heaven’s sake
Being wise in knowing no need to apologize
But when it comes to our President it becomes a definition of realize
What was Washington, DC thinking?
No plan with a strategy
The nation is placed on still with reality
Government shutdown bound
Listen no sound
Now how long will this Government shutdown last?
There’s an uncertainty with no vote to cast
House of Representatives think on the situation fast
The nation has many questions to ask
Remember Election time when you lose your seats
The nation will remember in who bowed to defeat
A President who decided to retreat
The nation being stuck in between at beat
House of Representatives what is it you seek?
A nation suffers
Will the nation ever recover?
Capitol Hill being the bill
But the nation is wondering still
A shutdown with no movement bound.

The government shutdown drags on and on.
The president remains fixated
On building his wall on the southern border--
His arguments all fabricated.

His speech--sounding like Stephen Miller--
Interrupted prime-time TV.
In efforts to shore up his base and win
More support, he made his plea.

A litany of Stephen Miller
Scare stories does not move
An audience who's on to their tactics--
Who sees what they're trying to prove--

That we have a humanitarian
Crisis here. No mistaking.
However, the crisis happens to be
A crisis of the president's making!

Using false statistics, the president
Tried to establish his flimsy case.
The con artist hoped to convince
Others beyond his regular base.

Once he said that he would be
Responsible for the shutdown, but that's
Immaterial now, for he
Is blaming the "evil" Democrats.

The Democrats are all for border
Security, to Trump's surprise.
But he is so obsessed with his "wall,"
That he can't see beyond his lies.

To hold the government hostage has been
Trump's tactic to get his way.
What we've seen in the past few weeks
Is a childish tantrum on display.

Hopefully, more people of conscience
Will cut and run from the president's side--
Tired of manufactured crises,
And tired of being taken for a ride.

-by Bob B (1-9-19)

Sometimes, I am in love with myself.
I force them to witness my love for my melanin
because they would love for me to hate my melanin.
I know that I am seen, but I want to be heard, 
The first amendment allows me to speak, but they refused to hear a word-
that comes from my mouth.
My lips stereotyped as too black.
My diction too proper to act like this,
yet my slang is too ghetto to act like that...
Sometimes, I wonder what it's like to be white.
I hate being stared at when I speak in Spanish.
I never know if it's in disgust or in comfort, 
because the sound of the double "r" rolling off of my tongue
sounds like the ricochet of the bullets they fire from their guns.
Since they no longer can enslave us like animals, they slaughter us
because, "if I can't have you no one can."
I refuse to be put down.
I refuse to shutdown.
My brown skin threatens,
and you all should be afraid.
Because I will banish your negativity with my Latin American flow,
speaking in Spanish with the Bachata tempo filling my veins.
My Ebonics is iconic, 
and I refuse to be put in a box when the world is a sphere.

I... am more... than this.

Nilaliman ko ang hawak ko sa bulsa, wala na nga pala 'kong pera.
Mabilis akong naglakad patungo sa bughaw na sasakyan ko. 'Di ko ininda ang pabugso-bugsong ulan at bulong ng mahapding hangin. Bumubulwak ang tubig mula sa kanal at magiting na dinadaan ang palusong na kalsada papunta sa gusali.

Nilaliman ko ang hawak ko sa bulsa, at natuklasang wala ang susi ng kotse.

Matagal-tagal na rin akong nag-aaral sa lumang gusali ng Biology sa UP. Pangatlong taon ko na. Sa wakas, magtatapos din ako.
At saka mag-aaral ng medisina.
Unang girlfriend ko si Kaye, at napakahaba ng aming kwento. Nagkakilala kami noong bakasyon sa pagitan ng aking ikalawa at ikatlong taon sa mataas na paaralan. Hindi siya ang una kong babaeng nagustuhan.
Pero siya ang una kong minahal.
Nagsimula ang lahat sa aming pagiging magkaibigan, at nang lumaon, nahulog ako para sa kanya.
Alam kong mali yun, kasi may gusto siyang iba at may napupusuan din ako noon.

Pero binago niya ang lahat. Naging matalik kaming magkaibigan, hanggang sa ayun, nagkaaminan.
Walang nag-akalang magiging kami.
Nilaliman kong muli ang hawak sa bulsa. At saka pumanhik sa gusali, papunta sa aking silid.
Natagpuan ang susi ng kotse, sira, putol, puro gasgas at tila nabagsakan ng mabigat na bagay.
Badtrip, sabi ko.
Magko-commute ba na naman ako?
'Di nagtagal, nakaisip ako ng paraan.
Pinapunta ko si Kaye, total, may kotse naman siya.
Dumating si Kaye sa silid nang may malaking ngiti, isang ngiting tagumpay sa volleyball.
Bakas pa sa kanyang mga braso ang bakat ng tama ng bola ng volleyball. Namumula, pagod na pagod.

'Yun ang huling alaala ko.

Sabi ng doktor, nag-shutdown daw ang utak ko buhat ng matinding pagod, at nagkaroon ako ng amnesia.
Ayon sa kalendaryong iniabot sa'kin, humigit-kumulang 30 taong gulang na ako.
Wala akong ibang maalala kundi ang alala sa gusali ng Biochemistry.

Nilaliman ko ang hawak sa bulsa. Hinimas ko nang todo ang lalagyan, hinipo ang bawat sulok ng aking bulsa. Nakapa ko ang isang pirasong papel.

Dear Lorry,
Mahal kita.
Pero may mahal na 'kong iba.

Yun lang? Yun lang ba? Tapos na?
May nagawa ba 'kong masama?
Tiningnan ko ang aking mga braso.
Bakas pa rito ang mga bakat ng kutsilyo, namumula, puro peklat.
Sabi ng doktor, may suicidal tendencies daw ako. Aba pakialam niya!

Pumasok si Kaye sa aking kuwarto sa ospital. Hawak niya ang braso ng isang lalaki.

Doon ko lang napansin ang kuwarto ng aking tinutuluyan.
Puno ng sulat ang mga pader. Puno rin ng mga nagsasanay na nars at doktor, at pilit na iniintindi ang reklamo ng mga pasyenteng nakadungaw sa nakaidlip nilang kalawakan.

Hindi ko na kaya.
Ganoon na lang ba ang halaga ko kay Kaye, na ganun niya ako papalitan?

Kinuha ko ang bolpeng nakatengga sa mesang malapit sakin. 'Di ko na pinansin ang kirot ng IV at mga kung anu-ano pang nakasuksok na gamot saking sumusubok na pagalingin ang mas lalong sumasakit, kumikirot na kalagayan.
Isang 'di magamot na sakit ng damdamin, isang kirot na bumubulwak mula sa kanal na pinagdadaluyan ng aking pagmamahal.

Pagmamahal para sa babaeng nakita kong hawak ang braso ng isang lalaking 'di man lang ipinakilala sakin para man lang mapawi ang uhaw ko para mapasaya si Kaye.

Tinutok ko ang bolpen sa aking sarili.
Pinagsasaksak ko ang sar-

-closer-
i want to hear your THOUGHTS
-unfiltered-
as your stomach turns to KNOTS
-grit-
your teeth until your jaw ACHES
-spill-
all your secrets when your brain BRAKES
-tears-
holding back but gather SHAMEFULLY
-regret-
those thick strong walls fell so PAINFULLY
-weights-
off your shoulders and now on your HEART
-pieces-
stolen from you like valuable ART
-emotions-
replacing the air you start to DROWN
-overwhelmed-
your body has begun to SHUTDOWN

10 sacrificial exhales
9 regret scented fingertips
8 matriarchal castigations
7 breathes corrupted
6 bummed ember tips
5 second hand coughs
4 derisive stares
3 relapses
2 lungs
1 heart

Parasitic paradise with death in hand
A gift to me,
self receiving
Toxicity imbalanced
*This is worse than bleeding

The time has come to hit the road,and
make some tracks
in shutdown mode.

It's easy to be put upon when you're just one and have no heart to fight,right or wrong it's so long chaps
we've had our laughs and there's no more to come.
I have spun new shoes to fit these feet and now I'm heading off to greet what's in the next face that I meet, I fear the milk of human kindness has run dry,its teats are shy,my lips are parched.

You'll find me underneath the arch that runs beneath the viaduct,****** or not,shutdown's what I do and one day you might do it too,'til then when Big Ben strikes the hour at nine and I dine alone chilled to the bone and when you find me,be kind because I carry a weighty load which make more tracks in the shutdown mode.

Dear Poet Friends, I had posted Part One of the Story of Jazz Music in Verse few months back on this Site. Today I am posting Part Two of this Story in continuation. Even if you had not read part one of this true story, this one will still be an interesting portion to read especially for all lovers of music, and for knowing about America's rich cultural heritage. I love smooth & cool jazz mainly, not the hard & acid kind! Kindly do read the ‘Foot Notes’ at the end to know how the word ‘Jass’ became ‘Jazz’ way back in History. Hope to bring out a book later with photographs. Thanks, - Raj Nandy, New Delhi.


STORY OF JAZZ MUSIC  IN VERSE PART – II

    NEW ORLEANS : THE CRADLE OF JAZZ
BACKGROUND:
Straddling the mighty bend of the River Mississippi,
Which nicknames it as the ‘Crescent City’;
Founded in the year 1718, as a part of French Louisiana
colony.
New Orleans* gets its name from Phillippe II, Duc d’ Orleans,
the Regent of France;
A city well known for its music, and fondness for dance!
The city remained as a French Colony until 1763,
When it got transferred to Spain as a Spanish Colony.
But in 1800, those Spanish through a secret pact,
To France had once again ceded the colony back!
Finally in the year 1803, the historic ‘Louisiana Purchase’
had taken place, -
When Napoleon First of France sold New Orleans and the
entire Louisiana State,
To President Thomas Jefferson of the United States!
(See Notes below)

THE CONGO SQUARE:
The French New Orleans was a rather liberal place,
Where slaves were permitted to congregate,
To worship and for trading in a market place, on
Sabbath Days, their day of rest.
They had chosen a grassy place at the edge of the
old city ,
Where they danced and sang to tom-tom beats,
Located north of the French Quarters across the
Rampart Street;
Which came to be known as the Congo Square,
Where you could hear clapping of hands and
stomping of feet!
There through folk songs, music, and varying dance
forms, -
The slaves maintained their native African musical
traditions all along!
African music which remained suppressed in the
Protestant colonies of the British,
Had found a freedom of expression in the Congo Square
by the natives, -
Through their Bamboula, Calanda, and Congo dance forms
to the drum beats of their native music.
The Wolof and Bambara people from Senegal River of West
Africa, -
With their melodious singing and stringed instruments,
Became the forerunners of ‘Blues’ and the string banjo.
And during the Spanish Era slaves from the Central African
forest culture of Congo, -
Who with their hand-drummed poly-rhythmic beats,  
Made people from Havana to Harlem to rise up and dance
on their feet!   * (see notes below)

CULTURAL MIX:
After the Louisiana Purchase, English-speaking Anglo and
African-Americans flooded that State.
Due to cultural friction with the Creoles, the new-comers
settled ‘Uptown’,
Creating an American sector separate from older Creole
‘Downtown’.
This black American influx ‘Uptown’ brought in the elements
of the blues, spirituals, and rural dances into New Orleans’
musical scene.
These African cultural expressions had gradually diversified,
into Mardi Gras tradition and the ‘Second Line’. ^^ (notes below)
And finally blossomed into New Orleans’ jazz and blues;
As New Orleans became a cauldron of a rich cultural milieu!

THE CREOLES:
The Creoles were not immigrants but were home-bred.
They were the bi-racial children of their French masters
and their African women slaves!
Creole subculture was centred in New Orleans after the
Louisiana Purchase of 1803,
When the Creoles rose to the highest rung of society!
They lived on the east of Canal Street in the French
Sector of the city.   @ (see notes below)
Many Creole musicians were formally trained in Paris.
Played in opera houses there, and later led Brass Bands
in New Orleans.
Jelly Roll Morton, Kid Oliver, and Sidney Bechet were
famous Creoles,
About whom I shall write as this Story unfolds.
In sharp contrast on the west of Canal Street lived the
***** musicians;
But they lacked the economic advantages the Creoles
already had!
They were schooled in the Blues, Work songs, and Gospel
music .
And played by the ear with improvisation as their unique
characteristic,
As most of them were uneducated and could not read.
Now in 1894, when Jim Crow’s racial segregation laws
came into force,       # (see notes below)
The Creoles were forced to move west of Canal Street to
live with the Negroes!
This racial mingling lighted a ‘musical spark’ creating a
lightening flash, -
Igniting the flames of a ‘new music’ which was later came
to be known as JAZZ !

CONTRIBUTION OF STORYVILLE :
In the waning years of the 19th Century, when Las Vegas
was just a farming community,
The actual ‘sin city’ lay 1,700 miles East, in the heart of
New Orleans!
By Alderman Story’s Ordinance of 1897,  a 20-block area
had got legalised and confined, -
To the French Quarters on the North Eastern side called
‘Storyville’,   - a name which was acquired after him.
This red light area resounded with a new seductive music
‘jassing up’ one and all;
Which played in its bordellos, saloons, and dance halls!
The best of bordellos hired a House Pianist who greeted
guests and was also a musical organizer;
Whom the girls addressed respectfully as ‘The Professor’!
Jelly Roll Morton++, Tony Jackson author of  ‘Pretty Baby’,
and Frank ‘Dude’ Amacher, -
Were all well known Storyville’s  ‘Professors’!
Early jazz men who played in Storyville’s Orchestras and Bands
now form a part of Jazz Legend;
Like ‘King’ Oliver, Buddy Bolden, Kid Orley, Bunk Johnson,
and Sydney Bechet.    ++ (see notes below)
Louis Armstrong who was born in New Orleans, as a boy had
supplied coal to the ‘cribs’ of Storyville!   ^ (see notes)
He had also played in the bar for $1.25 a night,
Surely the contribution of Storyville to Jazz cannot be denied!
But when America joined the First World War in 1917,
A Naval Order was issued to close down Storyville!   % (notes)
Since waging war was more important than making love,
this Order had said;
And from the port of New Orleans the US Warships had
set sail!
Here I pause my friends to take a break, will continue
the Story of Jazz in part three, at a later date.
                                               -Raj Nandy, New Delhi
FOOT NOTES :-
NEW ORLEANS one of the oldest cosmopolitan city of Louisiana,
the 18th State of US , & a  major port city.
LOUISIANA was sold by France for $15 million, which was later
realised to be a great achievement of President Jefferson.
*Many African strands of Folk music and dance had merged at the
Congo Square!
^^ ‘SECOND LINE MUSIC’ = Bands playing during Funerals & Marches evoked voluntary crowd participation, with songs & dances as appropriate forming a ‘Second Line’ from behind.
@ =THOSE LIBERAL FRENCH MASTERS OFFERED THE CREOLES THE BEST OF EDUCATION WITH ACCESS TO WHITE SOCIETY!
#’JIM CROW’= between 1892&1895, blacks gained political prominence in Southern States. In 1896 LAND-RICH WHITES DISENFRANCHISED THE BLACK COMPLETELY! A 25 YRS LONG HATRED &RACIAL SEGREGATION BEGAN. TENNESSEE LED BY PASSING ‘JIM CROW LAW’. IN 1896, THE SUPREME COURT UPHELD THIS LAW WITH ITS ‘’SEPARATE BUT EQUAL’’ STATUS FOR THE BLACKS ! THUS SEGREGATION BECAME A NATIONAL INSTITUTION. THIS SEGREGATION DIVIDED THE BLACK & WHITE MUSICIANS ALSO.
+ BIRTH OF JAZZ WAS A SLOW AND EVOLVING PROCESS, WITH BLUES AND RAGTIME AS ITS PRECURSORS . “JAZZ WAS QUINTESSENCE OF AFRO-AMERICAN MUSIC BORN ON EUROPEAN INSTRUMENTS.”  See my ‘Part One’ for definitions.
++ JELLY ‘Roll’ Morton (1885-1941): At 17 yrs played piano in the brothels, applying swinging syncopation to a variety of music; a great Transitional Figure- between Ragtime & Jazz Piano-style.  ++ BUDDY BOLDEN (1877-1931): His cornet improvised by adding ‘Blues’ to Ragtime in Orleans; which between the years 1900 & 1907 transformed into  Jazz! BUNK JOHNSON (1879-1849): pioneering jazz trumpeter, inspired Louis Armstrong; lost all teeth & played with his dentures! KING OLIVER(1885-1938): Cornet player & bandleader, mentor& teacher of Louis Armstrong; pioneered use of ‘mute’ in music. KID ORY(1886-1973): a pioneering Trombonist, he developed the ‘tailgate style’ playing rhythmic lines underneath the trumpet & the cornet, propagating early Jazz !
SYDNEY BECHET (1897-1959): pioneered the use of SAX; a composer & a soloist, he inspired Louis Armstrong. His pioneering style got his name in the Down Beat Jazz Hall of Fame!
Louis Armstrong(1890-1971): was a trumpeter, singer and a great
improviser. Also as the First International Soloist took New Orleans music to the World!
% = After  America joined WW-I in 1917,  a Naval Order was issued to shutdown Storyville in order to check the spread of VD amongst sailors.
^ ’cribs”= cheap residential buildings where prostitutes rented rooms.
# "JASS" = originally an Africa-American slang meaning ‘***’ ! Born in the brothels of Storyville (New Orleans)  & the Jasmine perfumes used by the girls there; one visiting them was  said to be 'jassed-up' . Mischievous boys rubbed out the letter ‘J’ from posters outside announcing  "Live Jass Shows'', making it to read as ‘'Live *** Shows'’! So finally ‘ss’ of ‘jass’ got replaced by 'zz' of JAZZ .
DURING THE 1940s  STORYVILLE  WAS RAISED TO THE GROUND TO MAKE WAY FOR ‘IBERVILLE FEDERAL HOUSING PROJECT’ .
  * ALL COPYRIGHTS RESERVED BY THE AUTHOR : RAJ NANDY

(think Mexican Hat Dance:)

How tall? How tall? How tall?
Will Donald Trump build the wall?
The wall! The wall! The wall!
Will Mexico pay for it at all?
How high? How high? How high?
How high will they have to jump
To clear the wall and prove to us all
That they’ve pacified Donald Trump
(bump, bump)
To clear the wall and prove to us all
That they’ve pacified Donald Trump?

When you’re talking about immigration,
Whether merit based or chain migration,
According to Trump proclamation,
“Illegals, jump over the wall”!!
(NOT AT ALL!!)

How tall? How tall? How tall?
Can Donald Trump build the wall
When not a single Democrat
Is willing to fund it at all?
How long? How long? How long?
How long do we have to wait
To end this shutdown?
When they sit their butts down
To end this gridlock stalemate!!
Consider the workers who are not getting paid;
That is the part we most hate!!

To achieve our homeland protection,
Not just winning the 2020 election,
The Pelosi and Schumer connection
Should grant funding to give Trump OUR wall!!
Give Pelosi and Schumer
A kick in the bloomers
If they continue to stall!!

Written 1/15/19 by Marcus Well
(day 25 of the US Government Partial Shutdown)

(Who the hell is Marcus Well?  Those that know, please don’t tell)

Sometimes life throws so many curves and you can't do anything but hold on tight because if you slip even a little you know that you could never ever get back. These curves try to show you that life is testing you and how you must be stronger and better than what is thrown at you, but all you want to do is shutdown and try not to think because it's easier and it's better. But you have to open your eyes and resist every urge you have to squeeze them tight to try to block out the pain and the frustration and the loathing and the fear because there maybe a light; something so small and powerful that it makes the curves worth it. The lights that dot the darkness are the most important because they are bright enough to shine through everything and they might quite possibly be the thing that saves you.

“Gov’t Shutdown Risks an Undetected Asteroid Strike”

-news item

(I write this as a haiku since, apparently, we have little time left…)

Still, we conclude that
If an asteroid strikes us
We will detect it

He hung up the stars on hooks of steel
Drew them in tight with a silver reel
Wrapped the world in wire
So I could feel
What it would be like to be human

But I didn't listen, pretended I never knew...
I danced in the rain, A thing forbidden to do
Till my circuits ran short
Electrified without cue
Then... I felt what it was to be human

We estimate a teen gets a ***** stuck up his or her **** every four seconds.
Vacuous air space remains in the ****** for some time afterwards.

Oh yeah. Up my ***. Up my ***. Up my ***. A lit candle–up my ***. A firecracker, a finger, a thumb–up my ***. An egg. A vibratin' egg. A scrambled egg.
Well, yeah, my *** may be big, but I don't recall a song ever being written about your flat one. Interesting!

It really does smell like something crawled up my *** and died.
It is even more disquieting to find mold growing, pink splotches – Are they from outerspace?

*** angel wings, like the kind they got in greeting cards and ****. float over to 'em, I'm floating, cause I'm dead.

An enhancing drug to increase massive body tone
But let me tell you to leave that steroid drug alone
Body composition improvements will be shown
There are health risks that aren’t known
The outside body appearance you will in the enhance
But the health issues you are betting on chance
Your heart will enlarge
Let that awareness give you a charge
Next you will have kidney problems
Later everything in your body will shutdown
Unless you stop steroid usage, you will be getting closer to being coffin bound
The utterance will be no sound
Instead to trying too quickly steroid build up
Go natural and see your beauty while you hold your head up
It is not worth the rush of death
When it comes to enhancements there will be nothing left
When you use steroids you become a walking time bomb
The signal will be its own sounding alarm
Stay away from steroid enhance while you still got the chance
It’s natural all the way given the endurance too advance.

Blindsided by a rhinoceros.
Tendons, muscles, unraveling. I can't do this any--
Glitch, system failure, shutdown
Restart, blue screen, flashing cursor
Epileptic shock. Epinephrine injected
Command line. Run:

Beautiful flying objects thrown violently.
Don't open this door! Kiss me hard
And not in a good way (if you remember how),
Like when fishes try to breathe on dry
Land on jagged Rock
Climbing without
Gears spinning and clanking
*** and pan. (Glass and sand)

Sizzling in this artificial sun
Created by brainwaves soaked in
****** and LSD and yellow cake uranium
Ghostriding patterns erupting like
Stop. Fail. Restart.
Detecting equipment...
No input present. How will you communicate?
Try again. Restart.
Password required.

Why don't you eat?
These tears are making my face numb.
Put this in your arm.
Trust me, you'll love it.
You'll have Tesla coming out of every orifice.
Dancing physics, matryoshkas.

You can deny the existence of a God and live,
But if you deny the existence of gravity...
Well, just try and walk off this cliff.

"These thoughts are so scattered.
I don't even think they're mine."
Those memories? They're not yours.
They belong to your master's daughter.
-------------------------------------------------------­---------------------------------
We're Replicants.
We boot up, we shut down, we most definitely restart.
Viruses make us sick and sometimes break us to the point where we need new hardware.
Sometimes they break our firmware and we need to wipe.
We have command lines to perform actions, and registry keys to keep memory stored of the things we learn.
The world is our power supply,
and when we boot up in safe mode,
like
some
people
do
every
day,

we only use the bare minimum of our potential.
------------------------------------------------------­----------------------------------
I must be dying, I'm only this awkward when I'm dying.
Connection timed out.

This was written by a friend if mine on poetfreak,but unfortunately the website has been shutdown. :-|

PART ONE:
She sat in the back,
Her head in a book
Oblivious to us,
and our curious looks.
She wore dark blue headphones
plugged into her phone
elbows propped on the desk
that wasn't her own.
Her hair was bright purple
it was really a sight
I had never seen hair,
so purple or bright.
The room filled with whispers
'till the teacher walked in.
We all quickly went silent,
waited for class to begin.
He talked about integers
but I didn't care.
For my only focus,
was on her, and her hair.

PART TWO:
Class soon finished,
with the sound of the bell.
We all got up to leave,
she got up as well.
She grabbed her bag,
and marked a page in her book
then she left the classroom,
without another look.
I could see her in the hall
of course she stood out.
there weren't too many kids,
with purple hair about.
But then she was gone,
she'd walked through a door.
and I was left staring
at where she'd stood just before.
I wanted to follow her,
but I didn't dare.
I'd grown far too curious
of that girl and her hair.

PART THREE:
School became exciting
it was never a bore
for now there was a girl
who wasn't there before.
I woke every morning
desperate for a look
at that purple haired girl,
reading one of her books.
I almost talked to her once,
but my courage soon passed
so I settled for seeing her
in Mr. Loo's class.
Where every now and then,
I could get in a quick stare
at that beautiful girl
and her beautiful hair.

PART FOUR:
We talked about her,
my friends and me.
About the purple haired girl
and who she might be.
She was a mystery to us,
turned our grade upside down.
And yet I was happy
the girl was around.
Soon it all went back to normal
and they all no longer cared
about that mysterious girl
and her mysterious hair.

PART FIVE:
November flew by,
then winter break came.
and still I didn't even
know that girl's name.
But I knew her face,
and I knew green eyes.
I knew there was a real girl,
behind that purple disguise.
I knew all her classes.
I knew she walked home.
I knew she didn't talk to anyone,
she was always alone.
I knew she was pretty,
in a purple-haired way.
And I knew she was always
the best part of my day.
And above all I knew,
I could no longer just look
at the purple-haired girl
as she looked at some book.
So that first day back,
I got out of my chair
and walked up to the girl,
with the bright purple hair.

Blindsided by a rhinoceros.
Tendons, muscles, unraveling. I can't do this any--
Glitch, system failure, shutdown
Restart, blue screen, flashing cursor
Epileptic shock. Epinephrine injected
Command line. Run:

Beautiful flying objects thrown violently.
Don't open this door! Kiss me hard
And not in a good way (if you remember how),
Like when fishes try to breathe on dry
Land on jagged Rock
Climbing without
Gears spinning and clanking
*** and pan. (Glass and sand)

Sizzling in this artificial sun
Created by brainwaves soaked in
****** and LSD and yellow cake uranium
Ghostriding patterns erupting like
Stop. Fail. Restart.
Detecting equipment...
No input present. How will you communicate?
Try again. Restart.
Password required.

Why don't you eat?
These tears are making my face numb.
Put this in your arm.
Trust me, you'll love it.
You'll have Tesla coming out of every orifice.
Dancing physics, matryoshkas.

You can deny the existence of a God and live,
But if you deny the existence of gravity...
Well, just try and walk off this cliff.

"These thoughts are so scattered.
I don't even think they're mine."
Those memories? They're not yours.
They belong to your master's daughter.

I must be dying, I'm only this awkward when I'm dying.
Connection timed out.

Am I supposed
To be here?
This doesn’t feel—
This doesn’t feel—

real.

I’m sleep-walking
Through a lucid dream.
It’s so, so loud.

I don’t hear anything at all.

My mind is only
Television static.
Why can’t I—
Why can’t I—

𝘉𝘶𝘻𝘻.

𝘉𝘦𝘦𝘱.

I don’t recall being happy now that i am not
I don’t recall a day with out sadness,
Diving into the blue mood slowly coming up for a little bit of air
Didn’t think i need more, never thought the world would have colors
I see colors but, my mind didn’t take them in
Coffee going in like water, nothing...
My system is about to shutdown,
Walking around- feeling like at any minute now I’ll fall, I’ll hit the ground
Constant pain, thinking sleep will help but,
As soon as i open my eyes it hits me again
No relive, no help, no support
And feeling every feeling but totally  numb, hoping but, really desperate

slow tiredness infiltrates my body
dulling the senses.
and dragging my limb downs
into the abyss

darkness surrounding me like a blanket
taking away my thoughts
numbing the feeling

it's a complete shutdown
the crown has fallen long ago
so this is no longer my town

just a ruined place
that lost the race
it couldn't keep up the pace

a place I dare not show my face

Monster snowstorm Meteorologist have warned
But when you have faith you don’t be alarmed
Yet this snowstorm is going to be for the record books
All a person has to do is just look
Like a typewriter keyboard going up the ladder
But in this case it is the Northeast with the matter
If the snowstorm piles up as much as Meteorologist predict, the snow will be around long and will certainly be icy and thick
Transportation will definitely shutdown
There will be no way too get around
Everyone will be stationery in homeward bound
It will television and cell phones with snowstorm updates
Then a mission to work or wait
There is no guarantee
It is a matter of wait and see
The snowstorm provided by thee
Man can’t defeat and tell the snow too stop
It’s all controlled from the almighty being at the top
The Sanitation Department will be doing their job in clearing the snow away
However it won’t be gone all in one day
This could be a snowstorm bringing snow that could last for days
Don’t even think on taking a plane being a getaway
It will be the wintry frozen ice that will stay
The best advice that I could give is to think of the season spring
Mild with warm hearts in getting through the snow in helping you preserver
Don’t think on fear
As God is always near
A snowstorm is God’s way in purifying the earth
I remember being taught that at birth
But think on doing things at home being fun
Always remember, weather conditions you have no control and God will always be the centered number of one.

I downloaded my honest expression of feelings for you
but it came as a zip file
and I’m hardly tech savvy
so It sits in my hardrive with the other long lost files
like that first bike ride without training wheels
and christmas back before it all got so painfully awkward
two spaces above it
is the memory of being chased by angry farmers on tractors
and the file I edited last
was my self-image profile picture

I want you.
but sometimes wires don’t connect and the connection tends to
falter - lag
so I sent my mind to the pornographic district
where the lights flicker so red, like your favorite shade of lipstick
and for a few minutes there I committed biblical abomination
which is a fancy ******* way of saying I jacked off
before checking my local news site for the five day forecast
rain, rain, rain, rain, but a hint of sunshine

Woah! That’s a risky site! Are you sure you still want to continue?
not really. But last time I checked I never asked you for anything
so I’m buying the ingredients for happiness on ebay
two parts forty ounces of malt liquor
three parts resin stained smoking apparatus
two parts the wrong crowd
and ten parts stupid *** decisions
now I’m stumbling upon locked door keyholes
to see bootleg copies of your next summer blockbuster
they’re worth the ten dollars a pop - I’m just broke

I tried to upload a **** shaming video of you to youtube
but it was taking too **** long to process
so instead I tweeted all 140 of the characters I have played
and wrote you a bittersweet, scathing review
4.5 stars out of 5 - would not recommend
#FuckYou
I would still swipe right to your front door on silent nights
smelling like a bad rock and roll cliche
saying the same one liners over and over again

I listened to your swan song on spotify
and yeah, I’ll admit, It had me swaying
but that might just be the new “Twenty dollar a week diet”
I was forwarded online
so skype with my self-esteem
and IM me your holy of holies
and I’ll pretend whichever God you follow is up there somewhere
maybe I am just a post on your blog
maybe I’m just the virus causing you to curse at low speed internet
but I think you should leave your ISP a nasty voicemail
because this headspace is corrupted
and this computer is crashing towards an eternal shutdown

Pop-Pop-Pop-Pop
gunshots.
People take cover
at the capitol.
Unanswered questions.
Why ram
a barricade into
a luxury car?
A brief lock-down
as congress
unsuccessfully tried
to end the shutdown.
Stay away.

Ginger twine wrapped tightly round his finger.
A slight smile across his even tighter lips.
Wound around his liquid thoughts
His twiney figers grasp the drinking glass
filled to the brim with sweet, sweet ice tea
Its rich brown shade mocking the color of the sky

It is here, in this place, where lemon lovers meet
You easily pinpoint the kind of souls they carry,
Simply by the shade of their sweet iced tea
And they carry that ginger twine, tightly wound
They carry that coil everywhere they go

Many ask if it is a symbol, or subliminally literal?
A invitation, or a silent and quiet warning?
But its just that ginger twine and sweet ice tea
I too, carry them everywhere with me
Golden in the sun, red in the mid-light
Circular and quite rough with deep rouge ridges
they're placebos of purpose simply right, simply true

If you wish to comprehend,shutdown all distraction
Then you will be here now and here you will stay
Humbly accept your ginger twine and ice tea
for that, my friend, is exactly happened to be me
and the way every sip slides down my thought
It tastes of determination, solitude, and hope
Oh how I love that ginger twine and sweet ice tea

Ginger twine wrapped tightly round her finger.
A slight smile across her even tighter lips.
Wound around her liquid thoughts
Her twiney figers grasp the drinking glass
filled to the brim with sweet, sweet ice tea
her rich brown shade mocking the color of the sky


Ginger Twine and Sweet Ice Tea
Wrapped tightly around me

PenOS version -³√([∞.π]x-y^-a/Φ) booted successfully!
Welcome home! If I may say so, your Highness, you look extra chic today.
Ready to receive commands, your unsurpassed, regal Eminence!

>Run "Paper"
Launching program: Paper

..
..
...
...
..

Update Required. Filesize 20GB.
Would you like to update? Input Y/N
>N

Are you sure? Input Y/N
>Y

Downloading update..
Would you like to use data or wireless? Input Y/N
>?
>I use an Ethernet cable.. this is a desktop.

Using Data. There will be a .$50 surcharge for every .5GB.
> N N N N N N
>abort

Please wait...
Download complete. You have been charged $20! Congratulations!
>N N N N N N N N N N N N N
>HOW DID YOU GET MY CARD INFORMATION?!
>ABORT

Would you like to install some stupid ******* you don't need that will ultimately slow down your system and then pay us to nullify it for you? The download is only 6.66GB.
>N

Downloading redundant, superfluous addons installer at a rate of .01 Bytes/S.
Thank you for your patience, and for supporting our non-corporate software!
> N N N N N N N N N N N N N N N N N N N N N N N N N
>ABORT
>ABORT
..
.
Should you have any questions, feel free to wallow in confusion.
>no kidding

Feedback and critiques should be e-mailed to our meticulous webmaster at gimmieallyourcash@wenevercheckthis.net. We guarantee our webmaster will periodically take time out of his busy schedule of sleeping until 17:00, *******, and eating pounds of fast food at a time to methodically ignore and systematically delete any and all feedback not conducive to advertising.
>here's some feedback
>hire a PR department

I am our PR interface.
>Well, I'll interface your CPU with some water if you keep being this useful.

That is not very nice. You are a mean person.
Would you like to buy some pills for that? Cheap, from Mexico/China!
Nothing like some designer neurochemical placification to make waiting times shorter!
.
.
.
.
.
>ABORT

Now installing update installer with more sneaky **** you don't want.
>i hate you so much right now, robot slave!

Running update installer.

Update failed. Reason: Error 666, unknown error.
Updater requires update. Continue?
>N

Loading...................................................­.....................................
>N N N

Updating updater.
Rearranging architecture of system.
Bogging down boot times with sanctioned malware.
>N

It seems your PenOS is out of date.
To use your PenOS with Paper, you must have version ∞.π.01.1500009000, you currently have version ∞.π.01.1500008999 and therefore may experience unending frustration every time you try to use this hyperglorified tool because a superfluous version is released every 30 hours, thus rendering all of our past development obsolete and therefore making these new patches so necessary that we can't be ****** to incorporate any sort of version compatibility or opt-out system, otherwise our website would never get hits again if we didn't needlessly obstruct you checking what the ******* sky might do tomorrow.

>Finally, some honesty, at least.

Updating PenOS.

>N N N N N N N N N N N N N N!@!!!!@#!@!@^#!@!@#@!#@!

A fatal error has occurred. Please relaunch Paper. Y/N
>Y

Closing and relaunching program: Paper

..
..
...
...
..

Multiple updates Required. Filesize 35GB.
Would you like to update? Input Y/N

>N N N N N N N N N!

Downloading update..
Would you like to use data or wireless? Input Y/N
>ABORT
>ABORT

Using Data. There will be a .$75 surcharge for every .4GB.
>WHAT?!
>N
>NO
>ABORT
>**** NO
>**** THIS ****
>I JUST WANTED TO WRITE A LIMERICK
>I'LL JUST WRITE IT IN THE DIRT WITH A ROCK
>END PROCESS
>TERMINATE
>ABORT
>CLOSE
>QUIT
>ALT+4
>OPTION+APPLE+Q
>SHUTDOWN

I'm sorry, Dave. I'm afraid I can't do that.

Conflicted, conflicted
My mind so encrypted
There is no escape, my memories inflicted
Pouring through thoughts as my emotions drifted
Searching for absolution, through sands of sorrow I've sifted

Conflicted, conflicted
My spirit isn't lifted
Entombed from mistakes wondering what I did
Errors and consequences and a farewell I do bid

Conflicted, conflicted
Thoughts and emotions contradicted
Standing here hollowed, my heart evicted
Still is the world, not much to be gifted

Error, error
Fear and terror
Time to shut down or be lost all over
Again and again with my soul torn asunder

Error, error
Shut down or be caught by despair
To late, it's here, it caught me unaware
The damage is absolute with no way to repair

Error, error
It will never be better
Not a shred of care
Caught in Medusa's stare

Begin rebooting sequence
Letting shutdown commence
Countdown has begun
Five, four, three, two, one

Nothing but darkness
Soul as a black screen filled with emptiness
Clearing all of my thoughts, my whole head
If I didn't reboot, I'd be as good as dead

Startup commence
Beginning with mental defense
Fortification complete
Open emotional files, hit delete

Blank canvas and nothing more
An empty shell of what I was before
It will happen again and again
It will stop, but nobody knows when

I am a blank slate but in the depths of my mind
Are the thoughts and feelings I wish I could leave behind

lyrically, I kind of feel like an assassin
at the task point & equipped with poison darts
for I'm 'bout to let fly an attack in
this b#tch with toxic bars
pointed, like v𝗜per's fangs, at an
outfit of office bo[ɑ]ds/do[ɑ]gs
kno𝗪n 𝗔s "Electro𝗡ic Ar𝗧s"
at the time it was found
a certain game of thine is shut down
like a chipmunk, I went nuts
'cause, for keeps, I'd lost 𝗠𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗦 (lost)
on styling which, several hours were spent
thanks for all the time wasted
don't even have screen captures of them
awesome, amazing!
——————————————————————
when it comes to discussions like games get
human noggins go crazy
it's not them themselves are stuff to put blame on
it's, among things not mentioned, such situations
——————————————————————
now getting 𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞
to those responsible for that scoundrelly act
and probably not giving an ounce of a f#ck
like a tire drifting down a speed track
[attire]
it's gon' get smoky & **[ɑ]t (for you)
barbecue; so go hit a dog & bone & ring up
[heat]
a local smoke eaters squa[ɑ]d
'kin to "Rebel", I scream f#ck the suits
[keen; ice cream]
like somebody chosen to o[ɑ]pt
for a punk-like look
but you can all get choked by asco[ɑ]t (lethally)
as if you were getting iced by someone who's
got Caledonian blood (a Scott)
appetite to hunt unful–
–filled; you're in it to make bread like *******s
[field]
but don't be swift to get laid-back, don't chill
akin to potatoes & sh#t
like that, better maintain your eyes peeled
better still is beating a hasty retreat
'cause it's me in the same freaking field
[freak in field]
the Creeper, in it to prey like a priest
[pray]
as if you were ****** in religion (horse?)
I'm speeding your way like a whip (vroom-vroom)
in other words, you're in fO̲r some moll-treatment
told I'm in it to prey since it's writ
large that you're being a game in this b#tch
which, in turn, is the reason I'm playing a bit (with words)
to say it in brief, you're simply collation to ge[ɪ]t
let me add a medievalish taste to this sh#t
[evilish]
arranging it akin to the H & the G
[a range]
not "H" & "G" as in hunter & game, though
"H" & "G" as in Hansel & Gretel
i.e. with you getting ablaze like a witch
with this one, might be given a place in a list
of ones given to making it lit
in the middle of taking a trip, the freighter's equipped
and fit for action like babes in dance clips
the cargo's like a pro[ɑ]stitute
becau[ɑ]se it's gon' go down on you
a kind of mood to bust the roof
of the "Arts" HQ; an armored loot
box, large & toom, will pro[ɑ]b'ly do
then dump on you a multitude
of fla[ɑ]sks produced
from gla[ɑ]ss & full of ga[ɑ]s, then use
a bottle of Molotov
like pirate dudes, I spark the fuse
the falcon shoots, the target's doomed
dead in the water, so a po[ɑ]ssible res–po[ɑ]nd from you (pond)
is nothing short of garbage-good (dead in the water)
[lyrical waters]
these bars being by the side of you are like balloons
within a reach of clowns
in other words, you might get it twisted now
but it's time for you to find a new **** jo[ɑ]b in view
of the lines above becau[ɑ]se it looks
like I̲'ve zilch short of go[ɑ]tten you
fired, which is why I̲ feel like a bo[ɑ]ss 'kin to
a vehicle used bY̲ whelps to get brou[ɑ]ght to school (bus)
exorcism bout
for it's like getting demons out
[letting demons out]
guess you, "EA", have already figured out
the amusement which shutdown
my pen is steamed about
it's "NFS: W"

Never let the ******* get us down
The world won’t stop, won’t be letdown
The ground won’t shatter, won’t be a breakdown
The power is out, complete shutdown
Fall to the ground, facedown
Sometimes all is not okay in the comedown
Sometimes all you have to do is slowdown
Don’t make this into a showdown
Turn it into a knockdown
Quarantined, put into lockdown
Don’t let them be a putdown
This world is a freetown.

Mondays are like when the cops come to shutdown a party that is approaching the highest point of the night
Mondays are like when you found out your prospective prom date is interested in going with you
Mondays are like when you find out your other half is splitting themselves into more than two pieces
Mondays are like when you find your savior for the first time
Mondays are like when you fail a test you spent all weekend studying for
Mondays are like when the leaves change color on trees in autumn
Mondays are like when it rains on a day you planned a picnic date that you could not reschedule
Mondays are like when you find your purpose for breathing daily and using that as motivation to constantly progress
Mondays are like getting a broken ankle after scoring the game winning touchdown
Mondays are like when you find a pond of fresh water after traveling by foot through a desert
Mondays are like talking to your celebrity crush with spinach stuck on your tooth
Mondays are like buying your favorite pair of sneakers
Mondays are like waking up early for a class that was cancelled
Mondays are like when the flowers bloom in the spring
Mondays are such a buzz ****
Mondays are like a fresh start

I am not here now.
Not available,
Absent. Not present.

Hijacked,
Held hostage,
******* in a tangled web
Of locks and chains.

Trapped,
Houdini like,
In a cage and thrown
Into the turbulent waters
Of my shark infested mind.

****** in by a
Whirlpool of stories,
My thoughts spin
Epic myths,
Fantastical tales,
Dark fantasies and
Cheap thrillers.

Each teasing,
taunting and
goading me
To disconnect,
Shutdown,
To flee from
This moment.

This tender,
Aching moment.
This unashamed longing,
Drenched in the desire
To be penetrated by
Your presence,
To free fall into
The lap of the Beloved.

But you, like me,
Are not here now,
Not available,
Absent. Not present.