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David Ehrgott Dec 2015
1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4
1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4
1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4
1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4
  
Black and white and red, green, blue
Black and white and red, green, blue
Black and white and red, green, blue
Black and white and red, green, blue
  
We're building a sounder nation
We're building a sounder nation
We're building a sounder nation
We're building a sounder nation
  
Echo, echo, echo, echo
Echo, echo, echo, echo
Echo, echo, echo, echo
I can't hear you
  
An independent mind that thinks  
An independent mind that thinks
An independent mind that thinks
An independent mind that thinks
  
Politicians, Mobs, Celebrities
Politicians, Mobs, Celebrities
Politicians, Mobs, Celebrities
The really really big big three
  
We're going down and down and down
We're going down and down and down
We're going down and down and down
There's nothing we can do
  
Ignorance leads us to stupidity
Ignorance leads us to stupidity
The gateway to stupidity
Ignorance is insanity
  
More control over the masses
More control over the masses
Gas, tax, and uneven grasses
More control over the masses
  
Half of what we used to have
Half of what we used to have
Half of what we used to have  
And still no time to talk
  
Keep feeding all our enemies
Keep feeding all our enemies
No brains for independancy
We're feeding all our enemies
  
How can we lose everything?
How can we lose everything?
d*ck Cheney making Bling Bling Bling
And we're here losing everything
  
With nothing left we close our mouth
With nothing left we close our mouth
With nothing left we close our mouth
How stupid can we be?
  
We want to stay alive, we're dead
We want to stay alive, we're dead
We're dead if we say one wrong word
We want to stay alive, we're dead
  
We can't think independently
We can't think independently
We must believe, believe, believe
We can't think, we can't think
  
Echo, echo, echo, echo
Echo, echo, echo, echo
Echo, echo, echo, echo
I can't hear you
  
We're building a sounder nation
We're building a sounder nation
We're building a sounder nation
We're building a sounder nation  
  
Black and white and red, green, blue
Black and white and red, green, blue
Black and white and red, green, blue
Black and white and red, green, blue
  
1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4
1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4
1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4
1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4
Cherries of the night are riper
Than the cherries pluckt at noon
Gather to your fairy piper
When he pipes his magic tune:
        Merry, merry,
        Take a cherry;
        Mine are sounder,
        Mine are rounder,
        Mine are sweeter
        For the eater
        Under the moon.
And you’ll be fairies soon.

In the cherry pluckt at night,
With the dew of summer swelling,
There’s a juice of pure delight,
Cool, dark, sweet, divinely smelling.
        Merry, merry,
        Take a cherry;
        Mine are sounder,
        Mine are rounder,
        Mine are sweeter
        For the eater
        In the moonlight.
And you’ll be fairies quite.

When I sound the fairy call,
Gather here in silent meeting,
Chin to knee on the orchard wall,
Cooled with dew and cherries eating.
        Merry, merry,
        Take a cherry;
        Mine are sounder,
        Mine are rounder,
        Mine are sweeter.
        For the eater
        When the dews fall.
And you’ll be fairies all.
Now when Dawn in robe of saffron was hasting from the streams of
Oceanus, to bring light to mortals and immortals, Thetis reached the
ships with the armour that the god had given her. She found her son
fallen about the body of Patroclus and weeping bitterly. Many also
of his followers were weeping round him, but when the goddess came
among them she clasped his hand in her own, saying, “My son, grieve as
we may we must let this man lie, for it is by heaven’s will that he
has fallen; now, therefore, accept from Vulcan this rich and goodly
armour, which no man has ever yet borne upon his shoulders.”
  As she spoke she set the armour before Achilles, and it rang out
bravely as she did so. The Myrmidons were struck with awe, and none
dared look full at it, for they were afraid; but Achilles was roused
to still greater fury, and his eyes gleamed with a fierce light, for
he was glad when he handled the splendid present which the god had
made him. Then, as soon as he had satisfied himself with looking at
it, he said to his mother, “Mother, the god has given me armour,
meet handiwork for an immortal and such as no living could have
fashioned; I will now arm, but I much fear that flies will settle upon
the son of Menoetius and breed worms about his wounds, so that his
body, now he is dead, will be disfigured and the flesh will rot.”
  Silver-footed Thetis answered, “My son, be not disquieted about this
matter. I will find means to protect him from the swarms of noisome
flies that prey on the bodies of men who have been killed in battle.
He may lie for a whole year, and his flesh shall still be as sound
as ever, or even sounder. Call, therefore, the Achaean heroes in
assembly; unsay your anger against Agamemnon; arm at once, and fight
with might and main.”
  As she spoke she put strength and courage into his heart, and she
then dropped ambrosia and red nectar into the wounds of Patroclus,
that his body might suffer no change.
  Then Achilles went out upon the seashore, and with a loud cry called
on the Achaean heroes. On this even those who as yet had stayed always
at the ships, the pilots and helmsmen, and even the stewards who
were about the ships and served out rations, all came to the place
of assembly because Achilles had shown himself after having held aloof
so long from fighting. Two sons of Mars, Ulysses and the son of
Tydeus, came limping, for their wounds still pained them; nevertheless
they came, and took their seats in the front row of the assembly. Last
of all came Agamemnon, king of men, he too wounded, for **** son of
Antenor had struck him with a spear in battle.
  When the Achaeans were got together Achilles rose and said, “Son
of Atreus, surely it would have been better alike for both you and me,
when we two were in such high anger about Briseis, surely it would
have been better, had Diana’s arrow slain her at the ships on the
day when I took her after having sacked Lyrnessus. For so, many an
Achaean the less would have bitten dust before the foe in the days
of my anger. It has been well for Hector and the Trojans, but the
Achaeans will long indeed remember our quarrel. Now, however, let it
be, for it is over. If we have been angry, necessity has schooled
our anger. I put it from me: I dare not nurse it for ever;
therefore, bid the Achaeans arm forthwith that I may go out against
the Trojans, and learn whether they will be in a mind to sleep by
the ships or no. Glad, I ween, will he be to rest his knees who may
fly my spear when I wield it.”
  Thus did he speak, and the Achaeans rejoiced in that he had put away
his anger.
  Then Agamemnon spoke, rising in his place, and not going into the
middle of the assembly. “Danaan heroes,” said he, “servants of Mars,
it is well to listen when a man stands up to speak, and it is not
seemly to interrupt him, or it will go hard even with a practised
speaker. Who can either hear or speak in an uproar? Even the finest
orator will be disconcerted by it. I will expound to the son of
Peleus, and do you other Achaeans heed me and mark me well. Often have
the Achaeans spoken to me of this matter and upbraided me, but it
was not I that did it: Jove, and Fate, and Erinys that walks in
darkness struck me mad when we were assembled on the day that I took
from Achilles the meed that had been awarded to him. What could I
do? All things are in the hand of heaven, and Folly, eldest of
Jove’s daughters, shuts men’s eyes to their destruction. She walks
delicately, not on the solid earth, but hovers over the heads of men
to make them stumble or to ensnare them.
  “Time was when she fooled Jove himself, who they say is greatest
whether of gods or men; for Juno, woman though she was, beguiled him
on the day when Alcmena was to bring forth mighty Hercules in the fair
city of Thebes. He told it out among the gods saying, ‘Hear me all
gods and goddesses, that I may speak even as I am minded; this day
shall an Ilithuia, helper of women who are in labour, bring a man
child into the world who shall be lord over all that dwell about him
who are of my blood and lineage.’ Then said Juno all crafty and full
of guile, ‘You will play false, and will not hold to your word.
Swear me, O Olympian, swear me a great oath, that he who shall this
day fall between the feet of a woman, shall be lord over all that
dwell about him who are of your blood and lineage.’
  “Thus she spoke, and Jove suspected her not, but swore the great
oath, to his much ruing thereafter. For Juno darted down from the high
summit of Olympus, and went in haste to Achaean Argos where she knew
that the noble wife of Sthenelus son of Perseus then was. She being
with child and in her seventh month, Juno brought the child to birth
though there was a month still wanting, but she stayed the offspring
of Alcmena, and kept back the Ilithuiae. Then she went to tell Jove
the son of Saturn, and said, ‘Father Jove, lord of the lightning—I
have a word for your ear. There is a fine child born this day,
Eurystheus, son to Sthenelus the son of Perseus; he is of your
lineage; it is well, therefore, that he should reign over the
Argives.’
  “On this Jove was stung to the very quick, and in his rage he caught
Folly by the hair, and swore a great oath that never should she
again invade starry heaven and Olympus, for she was the bane of all.
Then he whirled her round with a twist of his hand, and flung her down
from heaven so that she fell on to the fields of mortal men; and he
was ever angry with her when he saw his son groaning under the cruel
labours that Eurystheus laid upon him. Even so did I grieve when
mighty Hector was killing the Argives at their ships, and all the time
I kept thinking of Folly who had so baned me. I was blind, and Jove
robbed me of my reason; I will now make atonement, and will add much
treasure by way of amends. Go, therefore, into battle, you and your
people with you. I will give you all that Ulysses offered you
yesterday in your tents: or if it so please you, wait, though you
would fain fight at once, and my squires shall bring the gifts from my
ship, that you may see whether what I give you is enough.”
  And Achilles answered, “Son of Atreus, king of men Agamemnon, you
can give such gifts as you think proper, or you can withhold them:
it is in your own hands. Let us now set battle in array; it is not
well to tarry talking about trifles, for there is a deed which is as
yet to do. Achilles shall again be seen fighting among the foremost,
and laying low the ranks of the Trojans: bear this in mind each one of
you when he is fighting.”
  Then Ulysses said, “Achilles, godlike and brave, send not the
Achaeans thus against Ilius to fight the Trojans fasting, for the
battle will be no brief one, when it is once begun, and heaven has
filled both sides with fury; bid them first take food both bread and
wine by the ships, for in this there is strength and stay. No man
can do battle the livelong day to the going down of the sun if he is
without food; however much he may want to fight his strength will fail
him before he knows it; hunger and thirst will find him out, and his
limbs will grow weary under him. But a man can fight all day if he
is full fed with meat and wine; his heart beats high, and his strength
will stay till he has routed all his foes; therefore, send the
people away and bid them prepare their meal; King Agamemnon will bring
out the gifts in presence of the assembly, that all may see them and
you may be satisfied. Moreover let him swear an oath before the
Argives that he has never gone up into the couch of Briseis, nor
been with her after the manner of men and women; and do you, too, show
yourself of a gracious mind; let Agamemnon entertain you in his
tents with a feast of reconciliation, that so you may have had your
dues in full. As for you, son of Atreus, treat people more righteously
in future; it is no disgrace even to a king that he should make amends
if he was wrong in the first instance.”
  And King Agamemnon answered, “Son of Laertes, your words please me
well, for throughout you have spoken wisely. I will swear as you would
have me do; I do so of my own free will, neither shall I take the name
of heaven in vain. Let, then, Achilles wait, though he would fain
fight at once, and do you others wait also, till the gifts come from
my tent and we ratify the oath with sacrifice. Thus, then, do I charge
you: take some noble young Achaeans with you, and bring from my
tents the gifts that I promised yesterday to Achilles, and bring the
women also; furthermore let Talthybius find me a boar from those
that are with the host, and make it ready for sacrifice to Jove and to
the sun.”
  Then said Achilles, “Son of Atreus, king of men Agamemnon, see to
these matters at some other season, when there is breathing time and
when I am calmer. Would you have men eat while the bodies of those
whom Hector son of Priam slew are still lying mangled upon the
plain? Let the sons of the Achaeans, say I, fight fasting and
without food, till we have avenged them; afterwards at the going
down of the sun let them eat their fill. As for me, Patroclus is lying
dead in my tent, all hacked and hewn, with his feet to the door, and
his comrades are mourning round him. Therefore I can take thought of
nothing save only slaughter and blood and the rattle in the throat
of the dying.”
  Ulysses answered, “Achilles, son of Peleus, mightiest of all the
Achaeans, in battle you are better than I, and that more than a
little, but in counsel I am much before you, for I am older and of
greater knowledge. Therefore be patient under my words. Fighting is
a thing of which men soon surfeit, and when Jove, who is wars steward,
weighs the upshot, it may well prove that the straw which our
sickles have reaped is far heavier than the grain. It may not be
that the Achaeans should mourn the dead with their bellies; day by day
men fall thick and threefold continually; when should we have
respite from our sorrow? Let us mourn our dead for a day and bury them
out of sight and mind, but let those of us who are left eat and
drink that we may arm and fight our foes more fiercely. In that hour
let no man hold back, waiting for a second summons; such summons shall
bode ill for him who is found lagging behind at our ships; let us
rather sally as one man and loose the fury of war upon the Trojans.”
  When he had thus spoken he took with him the sons of Nestor, with
Meges son of Phyleus, Thoas, Meriones, Lycomedes son of Creontes,
and Melanippus, and went to the tent of Agamemnon son of Atreus. The
word was not sooner said than the deed was done: they brought out
the seven tripods which Agamemnon had promised, with the twenty
metal cauldrons and the twelve horses; they also brought the women
skilled in useful arts, seven in number, with Briseis, which made
eight. Ulysses weighed out the ten talents of gold and then led the
way back, while the young Achaeans brought the rest of the gifts,
and laid them in the middle of the assembly.
  Agamemnon then rose, and Talthybius whose voice was like that of a
god came to him with the boar. The son of Atreus drew the knife
which he wore by the scabbard of his mighty sword, and began by
cutting off some bristles from the boar, lifting up his hands in
prayer as he did so. The other Achaeans sat where they were all silent
and orderly to hear the king, and Agamemnon looked into the vault of
heaven and prayed saying, “I call Jove the first and mightiest of
all gods to witness, I call also Earth and Sun and the Erinyes who
dwell below and take vengeance on him who shall swear falsely, that
I have laid no hand upon the girl Briseis, neither to take her to my
bed nor otherwise, but that she has remained in my tents inviolate. If
I swear falsely may heaven visit me with all the penalties which it
metes out to those who perjure themselves.”
  He cut the boar’s throat as he spoke, whereon Talthybius whirled
it round his head, and flung it into the wide sea to feed the
fishes. Then Achilles also rose and said to the Argives, “Father Jove,
of a truth you blind men’s eyes and bane them. The son of Atreus had
not else stirred me to so fierce an anger, nor so stubbornly taken
Briseis from me against my will. Surely Jove must have counselled
the destruction of many an Argive. Go, now, and take your food that we
may begin fighting.”
  On this he broke up the assembly, and every man went back to his own
ship. The Myrmidons attended to the presents and took them away to the
ship of Achilles. They placed them in his tents, while the
stable-men drove the horses in among the others.
  Briseis, fair as Venus, when she saw the mangled body of
Patroclus, flung herself upon it and cried aloud, tearing her
breast, her neck, and her lovely face with both her hands. Beautiful
as a goddess she wept and said, “Patroclus, dearest friend, when I
went hence I left you living; I return, O prince, to find you dead;
thus do fresh sorrows multiply upon me one after the other. I saw
him to whom my father and mother married me, cut down before our city,
and my three own dear brothers perished with him on the self-same day;
but you, Patroclus, even when Achilles slew my husband and sacked
the city of noble Mynes, told me that I was not to weep, for you
said you would make Achilles marry me, and take me back with him to
Phthia, we should have a wedding feast among the Myrmidons. You were
always kind to me and I shall never cease to grieve for you.”
  She wept as she spoke, and the women joined in her lament-making
as though their tears were for Patroclus, but in truth each was
weeping for her own sorrows. The elders of the Achaeans gathered round
Achilles and prayed him to take food, but he groaned and would not
do so. “I pray you,” said he, “if any comrade will hear me, bid me
neither eat nor drink, for I am in great heaviness, and will stay
fasting even to the going down of the sun.”
  On this he sent the other princes away, save only the two sons of
Atreus and Ulysses, Nestor, Idomeneus, and the knight Phoenix, who
stayed behind and tried to comfort him in the bitterness of his
sorrow: but he would not be comforted till he should have flung
himself into the jaws of battle, and he fetched sigh on sigh, thinking
ever of Patroclus. Then he said-
  “Hapless and dearest comrade, you it was who would get a good dinner
ready for me at once and without delay when the Achaeans were
hasting to fight the Trojans; now, therefore, though I have meat and
drink in my tents, yet will I fast for sorrow. Grief greater than this
I could not know, not even though I were to hear of the death of my
father, who is now in Phthia weeping for the loss of me his son, who
am here fighting the Trojans in a strange land for the accursed sake
of Helen, nor yet though I should hear that my son is no more—he
who is being brought up in Scyros—if indeed Neoptolemus is still
living. Till now I made sure that I alone was to fall here at Troy
away from Argos, while you were to return to Phthia, bring back my son
with you in your own ship, and show him all my property, my
bondsmen, and the greatness of my house—for Peleus must surely be
either dead, or
Keith Ren Jun 2013
Floating like fans
How we're lovers undone,

Play neat,
Look long,
And clean.

Tablatures razed,
We read songs for none.

The empty
Is marked
And deemed

A Sounder's Facade,
A Shuffling Nod.

The sequence
Is set
And sown.

A vastness to reap
No illusion to weep.

I grin the substance of
All things unknown.
wah Dec 2013
I’m rummaging through the sounder parts
Of my brain trying to find
The important parts of
Where I touched you and where I felt you
How I touched you and how I felt you
Like old photos

I’m trying to configure every speck
Of color in your eyes that I saw when you looked
Into the sunset through the window –
There were blues and greens
And everything in between

When I roll over
To lie face down in bed
My sheets smell like the warm parts of your neck
So I reach down to grab your hand
And lace our fingers together
Like grape vines
But all I end up with
Is a fistful of duvet

This morning I woke up with the echoing
Of your voice calling me “honey”
Tonight I will fall asleep with the echoing
Of your voice saying my name
In the morning I will warm up
With a cup of coffee
And with the image in my head
Of how bright your eyes become
And wide your smile gets
When you talk about the ocean
And how the barnacles would get stuck to your feet
And how beautiful
The colors of the sunset
Looked against the evening sea
He undertook
  Such a jolly folly
To search for his heart's twin

O'er plain, and peak
   Never sparing daring
Mad quest he did begin

He careless spent
  All his funny money
For he spared no expense

Heard of a man
   said to uncover lovers
Without a recompense

"He's only known
   as the Giant Bryant"
For there were none bigger

So off he went
  For how dare-he tarry
With the greatest vigor

Within one moon
  He did righted sighted
The giant's stone castle

And cautious stepped
  Midst the towers flowers
For he was quite facile

With guarded prose
  Lest he adverse converse
Relayed his quest of years

And though none be
  A more mighter blighter
Tall Bryant shed six tears

"Your search for love"
    Reflects gallant talent
And will surely quench thirst

In yonder vale
  In a deeping sleeping
A daughter who's born first
    
A true love's heart
   And hair flaxen waxen
Braids tressed with a blue fleur

She longs for love
    To keep-her deeper
Hope steels her to endure

It was just so
  For he found-her sounder
In the vale with fields green

Her braided hair
   In breeze saving waving
With the suns golden sheen

As he held her
  In their blissing kissing
Knew he'd ne'er search again

For in her eyes
   Shown a growing knowing
Reflecting his hearts twin
Sam Temple Nov 2015
looking across time
from my etheric perch
or was it a pike
as I sat on my flounder…
as I was perched on a flounder…
perched on a pike I floundered
pike perch flounder
flounder perch pike
pike flounder perch
mike’s rounder peach
like sounder greetings
tricycle ground feet
triglycerides around meat
polymorphic lounge ****
people forget
poetry is expression
silliness for its own sake
nonsensical whimsy
for laze-abouts and lollygaggers
with unicorns and dragons
nothing is more magical than language –
Lucy Tonic Nov 2011
Van Gogh lost an ear
And ****** was born
Something tells me history
Will repeat itself
Is repeating
Roots to grow
Roots to pull up
Like the near future
My star-clock keeps resetting
Connect the dots
I don't believe in accidents
And I'm the most sane I'll ever get
Call it what you will
In the waves and on the ground
Is where I find myself
And yet that's where
The enemy lies
Or say they tell me
Another truth turned on its head
The weight of my decisions
You can't handle
Yet it's not your heart
Frozen to the mantle
In the clouds
Eyes peer down
A ***** on a mechanical bull
A cup transformed into a robot
They sure have eyes everywhere
Turning big sister into a threat
And if we're all headed underground
Why the mixed bait of suicide and peace
Danger or sleep
And if it all happens for good reason
Why the dependency on TV skies
Hearts or eyes
Read the diagram of a head
If it makes you sleep sounder in bed
But the anatomy of a mind
Will put your concrete beliefs in double-bind
Roots to grow
Roots to pull up
The future is here
Our star-clock keeps resetting
James Palmer Nov 2013
It must be a great feeling
To be that guy and get to say
"I'm in a good place right now"
Where is this place? Why wasn't I invited?
What short straw did I pull that left me here
in this bad place
With nothing to help me fend off my responsibilities except a pen and pad.
And the pen doesn't feel all too mighty right now.
I long for love and acceptance
I do not like what I have become
Maybe people expect too much from me
Maybe it’s the defeated attitude I run around with
But I will never believe myself to be anything close to great.
Sometimes I do a good job at what I do
And sometimes, the right thing comes naturally
But if before I were a kite, now I’m a safe with walls four feet thick.
And I keep locked inside of me those memories of days when I would sore
I still dream of hot days
But secretly hope for storms
Because sometimes, silver linings get mistaken for rough weather.
Right now, I’m sitting here, with my tea going cold.
My door is open, yet I feel like it’s locked.
The weather is bright yet I am cold
And I cannot bring myself to get up
Because I do not know what I am getting up from
And I do not know why each day I come home and get straight into bed
Still hoping for something good to happen
When what I am doing is putting myself into a cage
And treating it like I am taking myself for a walk.
And so every morning I get up and I wonder what happened in my sleep to make me look so rough
And I tread on wooden floorboards that are splintered
And I make myself tea, that always has a bitter taste
And I can’t help but wonder, is this a delusion?
Am I looking at things through eyes which do not want to see the possibilities
Or am I merely living in a world in which nothing can bring me happiness?
Or at least I don’t let it.
Because what I could do
I could wake up
I could buy a better bed in which I sleep sounder
I could sand my floor so that I can walk on smooth ground
And I could get up and have juice which tastes like juice rather than tea which tastes like ****.
But still
I sit here.
And I wait for motivation.
But I fear I only get such motivation when something dies and I feel inspired
Because life lost leads you to believe that you are wasting your life
It puts a spark into a dark place
And I do not want to sit around and wait for something to die before I feel the motivation to change my life.
That isn't how it should be.
Mitchell May 2011
An abstraction of the mind
Which left a mind blind
From all the beauty
Of the outside world

Was it the word or the world?
Was it the mystery of the swirl?
Was it the majestic benevolence
Of that 2am girl?

Maybe it was something,
Maybe
It was nothing

But there was some beauty in the way that Her
Nothingness
Moved about in a room full of somebody's
Some
Bodies

With faces that pinch their pennies
When they catch the whiff
Of a dismembered mutant
Smeared in a politically corrected rightness

Ye' faith has been tampered with
There ain't much else to do
But accept that faith you were born with
And dance with the Devil's mischief

Dance the two step with someone
That shrinks when you move their way
There ain't nothing much else to say
When you know we all gonna' pay

High wind take me on your scheme
There ain't another stitch in this seam
My wheels are weak creaking white powder
And I'm hearing a late midnight sounder

Eh' lady you know where you've been
And I can bet you remember half the things you've seen
Member that egg shell moon that broke white crash?
There was something in that wave
That makes me wanna' obey

But forget about the things that I never said I knew
And forget about the face that hangs forever blue
A current ripples at the top of this afternoon sun
Lets go out
And be the bullet
To this gun
You kiss the light in the fragrant air and free its sweet perfume
Looking for a place to spark my colors ever changing
I hear the most beautiful things you say
Wrapped in a warm blanket
My skin consumes

I whisper promises to the clouds up high above the sunlight
Hoping love sends me a storm my eyes can meet
I have not felt this way in forever
Desire given here is sounder
Because it’s right

You tame those places in me where patience is speechless
When I hear you say the most beautiful things
Until I disclose my colors ever changing
Unwrap myself from this blanket
Shining like Venus

You kiss my colors with the iridescence of your own promises
Sending a storm my eyes cannot help but meet
When I hear the beautiful things you say
I want to feel this way forever
To be complete
Copyright *Neva Flores @2011
www.changefulstormpoetry.blogspot.com
www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/Changefulstorm
ZWS Mar 2015
Time to concoct something the doctors can't counter
Callous my temper with imitation, an elation that makes an earthquake feel a bit sounder
If I told you I was a chameleon you would think I'm a laughing sensation
Like a small town crowd of people with personalities no deeper than flounder
But if you hit me I temper like brass in a manner of class saturation, trying to become a metal that cannot be bent or shaken by voices that are louder

Your mirror's can't see me, only you
I copy and pasted your binary in my caffeine induced computer architect blues
If I told you the color of envy was green, would you see right through my chameleon mirage tailored J. Crew

My scales aren't slimy, although you'd figure so by the way I march around in the conviction of my intelligent muse
I'm so perfect in being perfect, it's almost a clue

But paint me another color of your choosing, to mask the mask I'm wearing over my bruising
You wouldn't know what I scream behind all that I'm hiding because it's sealed under all of the mumbles of my crying

I'm calling your faintest noticeable attraction to grow to know my horrendous transaction interactions
When you sit in your desk chair with your tobacco relaxion, judging every crescendo of my orchestra tastes and core reactions

What say you demon for your jailing taxes, and your horns and your perfect brand named wood stained glasses?
Your cuff is off, your deliverance remarkable, you're becoming a ******* classic just by the stale look that your grin passes
Im not ready for aerobics, I'm not elastic, most will tell you if you try bending me into fantastic, I'm not very static
That's why imitation is suicide when you're not dynamic, looking down the barrel of a factory stack of envy plastics
Dorothy Quinn Jul 2014
I've never wanted people who didn't want me.
But I know one day you won't want me,
and I'll still want you.
I'd leave right now if I didn't love you so much,
I make your eyes light up when I say your name.
I'll keep adding scars to my heart as long as you are happy.

I wish your feelings for me wouldn't drown,
but they will.
You'll find a girl who has a stronger heart and a sounder mind.
It's okay,
I love you.
I'll stay with you for now.
Its ByrnByrn Feb 2014
It seeped from your pores that day.

I've never seen anyone grow up so suddenly;
From t-shirt to tie,
and blue Gatorade to black coffee
A transformation from boy to man,
then man to stone.

You stood solid as a statue,
and stolid as a soldier;
as those days melded together.
They say being on the mind of another keeps you awake;
you must have not slept.

Yes you looked even stronger;
felt even stronger;
the exhale of your lungs sounder stronger,
the day that they closed
your father's casket.
He blew in on what appeared to be a gentle breeze. Little did either detect the tsunami that was to follow. He brought Oz trailing behind him. Everything turned technicolor when he tipped his hat. Each blink revealed that twinkle in his eye and the flash when he grinned was contagious.
In Oz the sun is warmer, the rain gentler, the sleep sounder. In Oz the words that come easily unfold without effort but everything can be said with only a look and a sigh or even a touch.
He isn't aware of his departure,  disappearing as fluidly as he first appeared with the technicolor cape billowing and folding in on itself. Like he has jumped into a black hole ....or....he finally found the magic to make that carpet  fly like we always joked about........only he's just returned to the emerald city (not really (-; ) Bright  lights beam in that emerald city while I remain in the black and white version of Oz
I know, the Oz metaphor is a little trite but fits so perfectly.
August Dec 2012
I had a memory of when I was little
That wasn't drudged up by pictures
This is very rare
I used to sleep with a bible in my bed
I thought it would keep the monsters away
Kept it under the sheets at the foot
If only I still believed it worked,
Than maybe,
I'd sleep sounder.
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
Anna Lo Apr 2014
muscle and teeth bite into her
tearing apart her sensibilities
eating her whole
swallowing her soul
and the worst part is
is that she doesn't mind
she doesn't mind at all

the strangest thing this relief is
sense to sense, nerve to pull
powder blue restrains me so
it's the way it is
or should've been.
mother raised her right
it could've been--
strong bones shiny eyes
sunny milk and porcelain
pretty girl pretty hair
spiteful shaking windy air
tossing golden dead cells
off her shoulders
feigning no awful mystery
giving nothing to hide
for youth has been kind

but what if, the sultan cried
what if the sparrow died?
to the bird that lost it's flight
from being powdered blue
from windless nights?

soaked in water-like tendencies
she'll become like you--
amphibian needs and transparencies
water drops on countertops
sniffing noses every night
runny eyes dry sockets
chains held tighter the safer and sounder
of the faucet transgressions
to the sewer conventions
to the minor inventions
of the heart

and beat beat beat beat
who cries heart
who cries wolf
my Rogerian adventure
cries the moonless girl
and powdered blue this muscle tee'd man
he's her solider her painted town
oh la la she cries
on his shoulder
running dripping faucets
on his shoulder
you see
there's nothing here
and Gui Jun will stand here, eternal flame,
And soon, there's only one thing left to do
i promise
When people trash talk Bitcoin
Ask them some simple questions
See if they’ve done their homework
Below are a few suggestions

Who started Bitcoin years ago?
And what inspired this founder?
And how does fiat money work?
And why Bitcoin might be sounder?

When was Bitcoin started?
What’s relevant about that year?
And from the short whitepaper
What is meant by peer to peer?

Name two countries where it’s used
To protect from high inflation
And two more where Bitcoin helps
The people in oppressed nations

Maybe they know, maybe they don’t
Yet you’ll see how much they know
And maybe asking these questions
Will cause their knowledge to grow

An opinion based in ignorance
It’s worth?  Not very great
And maybe they will do the work
To improve their financial fate
This is Bitcoin Poem 030 at BitcoinPoems.pro and you can see it displayed on a background when you (copy and paste the link below).
https://www.bitcoinpoems.pro/delivery030SimpleQuestions.html
Zach Short Jan 2019
of a million strands of kite string - forming tornadoes through a heartbeat:

you release like a whisper - thin; but intentional.
you are a call to listen.
you are a prayer to red blood cells;
a promise of sounder sleep.
a comfortable thunder.

so send up your kites (no matter the weather).

erupt.

and rest among the whispers.
be deep.
Georgina Ann Jul 2011
~

Abraham Lincoln used to lie.
So did my mother.
 
Remember that time when we were little? The night we wrote our names on the sidewalk with the guts of a thousand mashed-up fireflies?  I asked.  The night the birds and their babies forgot to sleep? The night we felt free because we had nothing left to burn? Do you remember the way the sunrise dribbled over the horizon and leaked into our tattered converse sneakers?
 
As soon as you said Yes
I knew you were a liar too
 Because 
I made that memory up.
 
When you run your gritty hands through my hair, is that a lie too? I bet you’re just pretending when you put my head on our chest and breathe slowly so I’ll sleep sounder.   I know the stale sweat sitting on our skin isn’t real. I guess it doesn’t matter.  Because
 
One hundred years
is just a gasp
and a
breath
 
And you make me gasp every time I let you lie with me. I pant and heave and choke as your stories wiggle their way across my tongue and stick to the inside of my throat. And by then the truth doesn’t matter. You’re either a memory or a mirage or a dream and I don’t care. All I need are those 

Goose Bumps 
you leave scattered 
across 
my 
sheets.
Even the night makes a noise
and in the dark, every noise is a danger.

Carry a flashlight or a Kalash' tonight
and get your shots in first.

Turning the other cheek
would be good
but in this neighbourhood
they'd just burn your ***.
Ottar Jun 2013
Is it the number of toys you own and use,
gathering mud, blood, or dirt,
to figure out your worth.

Is it the number of people you have met,
share a smile to an intimate encounter,
all relationships are life's echo sounder.

Is it the number of days and the misspent ways
that the grains of sand
fell from your hand.

Is it the number of experiences, of all that you have absorbed,
from head to toe, inside and out with every sense,
in those moments of past, present and future tense.

Is it the collection, of the cells that make you who,
and the places, moments you share
with God, you who, He spared.
Any questions are purely rhetorical and do not require question marks
Money allowed to ever expand
Brings scarcity to every land
Money scarce and tightly bound
Creates abundance all around

An ever increasing money supply
Destroys our freedom by and by
We’re not even free to choose
We must spend now or we will lose

The Bitcoin Standard echoes true
A sounder money for me and you
Allowing us to save, or invest
Or buy the things that we think best

Let’s build the world we want to see
With lots of wealth and energy
A world where money’s scarce and tight
With freedom sure, our future’s bright
Based on a quote by Jeff Booth
An abundance of money creates scarcity everywhere else
Scarcity in money creates abundance everywhere else

This is Bitcoin Poem 031 at BitcoinPoems.pro and you can see it displayed on a background when you copy and paste the link below.
https://www.bitcoinpoems.pro/delivery031BitcoinIsAbundance.html
Fay Slimm Oct 2016
Those who take life and shake it a bit,
to make trauma less,
And fit all error into pockets of love,
will also enmesh
Forgiveness in and around each hurt,
to become a breed
With rarer hearts, and sounder minds,
who, with no vested needs
Are free to serve the spirit of giving
as from their core emits
Understanding and quiet acceptance
of facts befitting
An air of compassion, then, easier
their souls will soar
Toward untroubled lives, more ready
To show rarer love than before.
Unknown Apr 2017
The distance fed the boredom grew
Our facades, I abhored them too
I crawled upon the floor for you
Not one hand out, I bore you two

Though humble and in pain I kept
Not even but a tear you wept
Though ever since the day you left
Not sounder have I slept...

...see in that heartbreak, there is truth
A heart did break, one heart not two
I brandish mine, untouched and new
For who could love a beast like you?
Zac Walter Oct 2017
Wrapped together
Pieces of me in enamel
Embalmed in enamour

Right and left brain sampled
Pieces of me scrambled
Personalities i see in myself
Pampoured and enamoured

Trust in whats felt.
But love is hampered
In personalities i see in myself
A tragic hell pondered
A beautiful future floundered

Hold true to a certain candor
What i show in public is
prospective grandeur
A slight slander
To those who think they know what i meant.
Its really just provocative pander.
Cause im really hellbent
On destroying your grammar of self

And mine. restore my health. this world is asinine. But at least i found her. But im sounder without her.
In memoriam G.N.


what is this landscape?

a void so vast
so constant
of a Constancy so deep and all-encompassing
that a sounder reads no depth
that the specific becomes generalized
and the general becomes pointless
like a compass without hands

my heart knows this landscape
has taken readings
and scanned maps
with ineffable instruments
to follow The Way

if I seem to ramble
I do
because this landscape bids me to
it gives no bearings and nor do I

simply: flow

I am the flow-er
the flower
minute among minutae
moving and stilling
in Constancy so vast
it leaves me breathless...
until it doesn't

c. 2009/2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater
mike Sep 2015
how many clowns
can you fit
into your
tiny
mind

before they start
licking off
all their paint
and
*******
from their
many different
*** organs?

and the audience
rushes from the bleachers,
a sounder of hungry swine,
devouring
every puddle
and every pile
from the floor
that was rejected
by the paintedclownsbodies.

and,
eventually,
the hunger,
its madness,
makes famine flower.

there is a layer of soil
cultivated from this scene
of ****** cannibalism.

flies
are the
sole patrons
of this flesh market.

the other patrons
have turned product
and start to turn.

the only spectator left
is you;
the tiny
frail
child
shining
pale
naked
in the stands
with hands
clutched around
their privates.

and when you go
and curiosity brings you
to the center
of the circus,
to the center
of this zoo,
you tare your hand
from the safety
of your privates
and kneel.

you find a piece
of face left,
a paintedclownsface,
and you reach down
and peel back
a piece of the paint
to see that underneath
was nothing.

just clear.
Nick carter Mar 2017
Looks flash and it won't roll like the old one faking its way through circulation .
Shinny and new like its mk2 it will be still sounder than the old round pound.
Welcomed into 2017 the new sound pound.
Johnsdavidburg Jun 2018
do you care?

what i do
far away
far from you

do you fret?

over these
things I do
things unlike you

do you anger?

over that
which is said
unlike yours

do you sleep?

sounder still
knowing all
must be like you

would you take?

that which makes
me from you
to call me ******

would you condemn?

everything
not endorsed
by a silly book

that you barely knew

beyond. . .
what you wanted to

beyond. . .
what is just, like, you
Ken Pepiton Mar 2022
Three days after the ides, and the story
told of a spirit that calls for vengeance,
to this very day, while it is called Today.

Entranced, couchlocked, looking dazed…
but none see me, to challenge me, vie with me
for watcher-alarm sounder silencing
clouds of knowing growing deeper, thicker, sort
of jello-time from post -2022

Monstor Fighter wannabes, realize
your fantasy, word to word,
sword to sword, progress, keep time, watch,
imaginations
bound in bundles and packeted for consumption,
- feel like a hero,
- just like that, that's the spirit, believe
- in the dream
Really,

see the lie you first believed, take your life exam.

Who really established
the stack you stand your ground rule upon.

Tell me no lie, I can check your facts, and my own,
a gazer into the abyss, must dare the awareness,
more than once, of the abyss staring into the gazer.

Life, lived a breath per moment of note, taken
as if this were me alive, and well taken care of,
by a benign monstor arm of benignity itself,
war feeds me and clothes me, I survived,
so the proof of the nation's promise,
I am, a trained-will that will obey rules,
conserved as rights held by heads of state,
- liberal conservation of meaning trees
- frees old readers from fishing for facts,
- we, the augmented, have public access…
- good citizen status, unto death…

as paraded boys, with fixed bayonets, pledged
and inspired by ancient incantations, patience,
steady cadence, rank and file,
perform as a mass minded thing agreed, a team,
- call to attention, respond
Testudo, hold. Sistere, hobnailed to your ground,
our
ground, hold that line, hold it,
hold it, get the rush,
without the dread duty of picking up the dead.
- Flash, my first duty in Vietnam, was
- to identify a body, that was not there…

shield walls, all games now, stories tell life
as a game, a test for bestness, or likestness,

yet, ever spun off, a few, a little leaven,
welsh held tongue song word long whole ideas,
by and bye, ye ken the less,
what's an hour's worth?

when does saving time, as a way to change
the season, in an effort
to increase productivity,
cease being a grand plan
for empowering all the needs intuited,
solar- leanings, shade and sunlit,
future from now, reckoned some how,
- wait, the engine driving the beast
- global economic collapse, is war, the idea
- that it is a god idea,
- monstrous fact of what we are, in agreement.
Peace, as proven ever winning, edgewise,
at the core, the intention we assume is true,
people have a reason in the whole ever idea,
immeasurable,
from inside.
..
the reason I wish
to live, longer,
money, use of it, actually,
literal debts for my luxury,
paid by the rules, the game, I won,
my life, in soul possession,  
is the rational measure, the cup of essence
of mankind to be supplied
to all agreeable minds, all free, to try, read
grown-up learn to read as teacher read
from the abundance of answers,
already to be taught to form
foundational anchors,
fears, joys, honor and disdain
of the garden earth is,
under, or behind great magnetic shields,
set to let life function to frame a state,
a stasis, relative to ever, after time
has no measure, the racer's mind,
long run pace, cadence call,
hup, two, three, four, heart beat

fit to the cultures of old, when all boys
were tough, or never boys at all.

"A rather Spartan lifestyle", an eastern reporter,
for Sun Jung Moon's Washington Star, said
of my cohort, during the prepper years.
---
old days --- always better after survival
from warstory to biography
--- look inward

Cranking jams in my haptic suit,
leaping valleys, sweeping down
canyons like I'm little Luke Skywalker;

When my eyes accept the invitatory story
challenge, vie for the power try,
triumphant,
meaning #2, spiritual victory.
Define spirit - breath, breathe, the one to the other
spirit of the bayonet - the word as command, ****
****, ****
take life take life take life, imagine too long,
as the addicted to hormones video triggers,
words
unspoken, live to prove the lie,
ready, read

I feel your pressure, fused with super lies,
unbelievable incredible opposition to peace or mind,
manifested handily as joy in breath,
imagine loving your enemies is your duty,
smile,
laugh and sigh. Some never try.
What can possibly be true, is;
what cannot possibly be true is not and never was.
A poet's perogative is the ready writer role, pulling down imaginations
that exalt themselves against truth... the weapons in life's battles are not carnal.
Bob B Jun 2019
I met a guy the other day,
And this is what he had to say--
And yes, he says he is for real--
Despite the leaps of science, he
Says that he must disagree
For he has something sounder to reveal:

"Come join our Flat Earth Society.
Don't fear notoriety.
Come on: there's no degree of risk.
Just be a flat-Earther AND
Help the world to understand
That Earth is not a globe, it is a disc."

Astounded, I asked, "How can I
Accept your theory? Tell me why,
When that was disproved so long ago."
He said that science isn't true;
Scientists don't have a clue.
He knows because the Bible told him so.

I asked how he can prove his case.
Photos shot from outer space
Show that Earth is round instead of flat.
"Conspiracy, for goodness' sake!"
He said, "Those photos all are fake.
'Flat Earth News' is really where it's at."

He said, "You see: we allege
Antarctica is on the edge;
The Arctic is the center our plate.
Scientists all severely
Hurt us with their theories clearly.
Flat Earth truths are what we propagate."

Obviously, it makes no sense
When certain people are that dense
To try to reason with their addled brain.
As scary as it is, I guess
I have to say I must confess
It's humorous to hear their strange refrain:

"Come join our Flat Earth Society.
Don't fear notoriety.
Come on: there's no degree of risk.
Just be a flat-Earther AND
Help the world to understand
That Earth is not a globe, it is a disc."

-by Bob B (6-8-19)
Kurt Philip Behm Mar 2022
Call me a Poet,
but I’m just a writer
these words that I breathe
respoken much later
Call me a Poet,
my couplets in rhyme
each stanza to shorten
with meaning sublime
Call me a Poet,
my retinue sounder
to live by the moment
my squares getting rounder
Call me a Poet,
I’ll call you the same
if one phrase you’ll tender
—attached to your name

(The New Room: March, 2022)
Onoma Jan 2023
a sunshower burbles —

as it trades hemispheres

with the opposite side

of a street.

laid out bone-dry,

sped into the sheering turn

of a mountainous cloud.

the washed out curve

of a storm’s prophesied

color — left to unbox its monster.

commanding the ogling eyes

of fish schooling town.

their sloughing motions

opening and closing like

purple umbrellas —

prepared for a far off

land too near the refuse

of fading shelter.

the template of promise,

poring over unmanifest

milk and honey.

silence becoming the culmination

of a mass exodus —

a version of itself long

to roam.

until another version of

itself thoroughly destroys it.

all that would be the aghast

ramification of encounter…

disposed of as neatly as what

was, and then is not.

an unrestored space — where

there is not much to tell.

another purple entelechy

that went on as if

varied.

here is a whole…

that does not oversleep

when sounder than sleep.

resurrections are not singular

events — they can not be,

if death is to be revived

as much as exhausted.

which is that whole,

finally yielding no place —

where a storm’s color

may be prophesied.

gone too — purple entelechies…

gone too — The Purple Entelechy.

— The End —