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Crimson fades away into a sensation of touch
As silence reigns admissibly
Courage stakes a privileged claim insomuch
To become known as chivalry

Existence of noble-spiritedness speaks of gentle blue
Drifting in on courtesy divine
Magnificent to behold, never given quite its due
Delicious as a fruit
Upon a vine

Majestic is the profile of chivalrous comportment
Daring held within a gentle sign
A quietness that speaks to hush the detriment
Stirring among the crimson
In my mind

Crimson fades away, hushed by your presence
Upon your gentle blue I feed
Your gracious strength completes my essence
Silently you consume
All crimson shades
In me
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
Randy Vera Nov 2013
"BUG"

I saw a Bug Battle,
in the cracks of the street Blood and Struggle
Their plastic screams and cellophane curses were almost like yours and mine.
Until a brave one crawled to my ear,
and he told me of his trial in the street crack theater,
I grinned as if I cared, he smiled like he had the time
He said "in whose camp does your banner fly, and can I have you on my side?"
He loaded a Pistol while I replied:
I said: I'm anti-pro no shout catechist, so keep your pamphlets political activist,
You take your cause for lack of a purpose in life,
pursuit of happiness, "eudemonia"  good spiritedness
you're living proof that ignorance aint bliss
Pray "Libira nos a malo!" and Free Tibet!
But you never prayed for the souls with affixed Bayonets;
so I wave like the man being shot from the cannon;
born on this chunk of warm rock hurling through nothing;
who only on the front of spirit can fight;
Storm the Bastille of desperate life;
and dance in the street every night till the day I die.
The Bug Replied:
Know All, Know all, in the dialog to win,
two grants are a Franklyn one Lincoln's just a fin?
Posit value for this bug since you're so well balanced,
gaining perspective from the outermost valence;
you never killed what you eat and confuse "labor with action,"
  but you think you're to evolved to fight for my faction;
We're currency baby as we live and breed,
BASTILLE for you ATTICA for me!
better get in the frae my anti anti teacher
before it ***** you along with every other fighting creature;
I'm going back to me cell where I breathe a little freer;
but let me give a final though like I'm Jerry Springer:
If happiness is purpose than you can call my purpose love,
to survive I fight the Battle and to me you're the bug.
Thunderstruck, I sat on the curb,
realizing I could be a "social surd;"
then I saw my small confessor get killed in a raid;
I would have stomped out his assassin if I wasn't so afraid;
instead I rose to my feet, and walked straight home,
locked myself in, and wrote out this song,
I think of the bug while I'm dancing in the street,
every time my neighbor throughs a sneaker at me;
I feel his wrestles spirit longing to fight,
while I'm drinking and singing in the middle of the night,
than it hits me:
The bug was right
Sara B Dec 2015
You’re the furthest thing from any form of knight in shining armour
In actuality I’ve already found mine
But I am captivated by the vigour of your free spiritedness
Somewhat consumed by the brooding of your aura
I am addicted to the way in which its easy
and the way that nothing ever needs to be said
I am captivated by our relationship of metaphors
Stimulated by the subtext of our blunt conversation
Deep ocean blue eyes that suppress everlasting adoration
Mischievous smirks that speak a world of sharp truthfulness
Truthfulness that should never be spoken
I am entranced by the shameless way you talk it anyway
And the shameful way you know it
Viseract Sep 2016
The wind blows,
The leaves twirl
Drifting through the air.

Nature becomes violent,
Sends a storm
And the leaves are whipped into frenzy

Yet even this is a balance,
For too much evil,
Or kind-spiritedness,

Is not good for anything

The wind blows and the willow bends
Stay strong,
For it will pass soon
Alice Burns Aug 2013
I realized one of the peacekeepers tonight
And, as always, I spoke honestly
But against tendency, I was specific
-Maybe it was the drunken haze, but the vision had so much clarity

I spoke words to him, that formed without thought, nor doubt of mind
And when these naturals were vocalized, there was no need to speak uncertainty of that what was said
- in fact, these words, alike these at the making of my fingertips
Felt as though their mortality through speech or visibility, gave them truth that me or my subconscious could question.

This drunken conversation that was in obedience to circumstances
Was extreme and unnaturally passionate
Yet, disorbedient to sobriety, was fluid and understanding
I feel now, possibly to be regretted in the morning, completely confident in the impact made

He is good- as good as he is a keeper of peace
And my words spoken, although never able to be retold in accuracy
Affected me as much as I, possibly am mistaken to believe, he was to be
But here, in this poetic security, I wish to share them

He is a peace keeper, I am sure
As we conversed I looked to the greenery around us and they showed no warnings
Their leaves , as they do in sunlight and rain, continued to show love without worry
And that love, I felt strong, and thanked as it kept my speech strong

I asked- or even in my possible dillusion  of high spiritedness, commanded, this man
In all the goodness that I possess and could show
To pass his negativity to my mound
As I do to all that seek peace rather than create it

You don't need to fight in this battle, my friends
For your role, is one much needed when the time comes
So save your fight, and save that energy
For your light is strong, and crucial for darker times to come

Should this message, this realization raise alarm
And the puppeteers ask of you those sins frequently ask,
Don't worry, don't hesitate, don't fight against their orders
Just breathe, sigh even, and act as you always have

I see your hearts
I feel that love long forgotten
The fact that you don't want to obey is in fact in our favor
Because we all know, deceit is their favorite game

But this deceit is the beginning of their downfall
As your want to avoid passing me the negativity, will unnaturally cause them to cast it in rebellion
But I am strong, and my strength is yet to show
I have your back, because I know you will soon have mine.
Rlavr Apr 2013
My guess is that
I will love you forever
Even after the darkness

The pain

The lies

The betrayal


Because you can take away
My spiritedness
But you can't take away
My love
Because it's MINE
Travis Green Nov 2021
I never believed that you
Would be the man
That would give me
A hot passionate fever
Magnetize my senses
Slide your body up against mine
I want to feel your **** chests hairs
Your plush brown *******
Sweet lickable fingers
Trendy thick beard
Bright aesthetic eyes
Astonishingly dominant shoulders
Massive crashing biceps
He brings undiminished pleasures to me
How your lips are marvelously formed
I could kiss you and replenish my world
With your peerless spiritedness
Attributed To Concerned parents
of Traumatized Refugee
Dear Fred and Mary Anne MacLeod Trump...

Posthumous belated tattered letter fragment
recently discovered (liberally sprinkled with
hyperbole (presumed for greater audacious
zealousness), sans accidentally acquired
by yours truly.

Miscellaneous personal item highly valued
when thwarted from auctioneer, whose gently
persuasion collectible merchandise requisitioned,
thence keepsake property perfunctory mandatorily forfeited.

Due compensation from sole male heir (me),
whose long since (resting in eternal
peace) papa suffered degradation,
humiliation and understandable lamentation
as a kid living in Flatbush.

Authorities and expert legal scholars
pieced together what probably comprised
a lengthy epistle rivaling the Epic of
Gilgamesh).

Recollection recounted torturous,
malicious, and flagitious mean spiritedness
visited upon the ambitious, cadaverous, and
timorous body electric high-jinxed introverted male,
whose abstemious, conscientious, and nutritious
dietary regime, could not forestall rigor mortis.

A postscript (purportedly penned prior to
once philosophical pensive poet's papa's passing)
stated that said personage felt bitterness,
disharmonious envious self loathing.

That grownup man known as mine father,
though once upon a time, said recently
anonymous deceased old fogey ironically
registered as an atrocious, cantankerous,
and egregious deplorable high school student.

Also, the author of what constitutes partial
opprobrious litany attests during his
idolatrous, notorious, and semiconscious
Arab zombie school daze.

He ranked as de facto semiprecious,
tremulous and unanimous scapegoat
bullied by a bumptious, callous,
disputatious hippopotamus of a brat
infamous bruiser later in his life to become
forty fifth president of UnIted States.

Though documentation incomplete, the un
named subject referred within torn shred
recovered included signatory couching
ambiguous references to a tenebrous,
unscrupulous, and vicious ******* initials.

Dee Tee quickly intuitively assessed
as one inhumane specimen, whose pugnacious,
pretentious, and pestiferous, persona characterized
impetuous, adulterous apprenticeship appetite
for erecting ******* skyscrapers.

This once pacific pilloried pupil, whose grown
son (myself), now recalls father's misty eyed
anecdotes dripping with acrimonious, curmudgeonly
grouchy, grizzly and crotchety old sorries,
viz refashioned abominable kamikaze
psychological sorties.

I can vividly recall (how painful unto his old age)
oft daddy's repeated quotidian taunts, whereby
that bad ***, acidulous, avaricious, contemptuous,
enormous, and grievous big boy trumpeting
bruiser exuded devious, heinous, libelous, and
parsimonious tightwad, though born into wealth.
Bill O'Bier Sep 2016
Hello, dear friend, you say,
bestowing what was our special greeting.
It's been a year, but I still succumb to your spell.

With good reasons, our past time together  
ended in suspicion and resentment.
I came away from it delicately gored, forming
what became my illusions of finality.

There was a time I welcomed your fiery high spiritedness.
But, inexorable time ticked away, and I wanted more.

I spent years scavenging your empty, oppressive heart.

Now, you cling so fast to me as the nights
soft breath declares its presence.

You struggle to erase my sorrow of yesterdays.

But for me, all our days of despair wash ashore.
I find myself settling in on the secret pain
you can't perceive, and will never see.
“Getting out is not giving up on someone
                            but staying is giving up on yourself.”
Samm Marie Nov 2016
She was told
Only she controls her heart
No one can take that away
Always choose love
Never choose hate
Always choose kindness
Never choose mean-spiritedness
She was told
Only she controls her thoughts
No one can take that away
Always think positively
Never look down upon others
Always be uplifting
Never take what isn't yours
What she wasn't told
Was that these thoughts
These morals
Were not her own
And therefore contradicted everything
Her mother raised her to believe
She chose love
She chose kindness
She choose optimism
She even chose happiness
But she didn't choose the consequences
Of ending up heartbroken
Bullied
Ridiculed
She just wanted to make the world
Better
And it tore her apart
Madelyn Annette Nov 2023
A garden on my arm
I started as a teen
An insect that does no harm
I got tattoos to show my keen
Sense of free-spiritedness
I love my art
My bare arm I won’t miss
It’s just the start
Of my self-expression
Journey to the center
Travis Green Jun 2022
There’s no one for me
But the love I share with thee
When I peep your light bright delight
When I stare into your fiery striking eyes
You take me to another time
You make me want to fly
On a first-class flight to your paradise

Bask in your immaculate passionate majesty
Relax into the soft cosmic rhythm
Of your dopacetic majestic body
Lapse into your starry solacing ardor
Take in the way you sparkle
Like the unconquerable March stars
Float in your boat of strong, engrossing emotions

Fill my resplendent romantic poetry flow in your soul
As you fold me in your globe
Envelop me in your cold potion
Overflowing with machoness
Shower me with your high-spiritedness
Provide me endless seamless tenderness

Take over my cosmos
Love me the most
Keep me close to you and never let go
Let me slosh on a dose of your dopeness
Feel you forever in my vessel and never reject
Your extra delectable and unattackable flex
‘Cause it’s all I need in this lifetime to treasure
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2021
i once walked from Boulevard Pershing,
near the hotel Concorde Lafayette to the west of Paris city centre
300 metres from the metro station Porte Maillot
to... the 3 ducks hostel... 6 Pl. Etienne Pernet...
upon arrival i was welcome by an American
bartender... and when asked how my journey was...
well, i walked...
you walked?!
yeah... i walked... my first time in Paris...
like my first time in Stockholm... solo... in a hostel...
upon landing it really was a city of lights...
the Eiffel tower was my beacon and my hypnotism...
once upon a time i had that pet project
of going to capital cities alone...
Athens... well... i thought: Venice might be better
than Rome...
i sure as hell i visited Berlin... i was going
to hit on Prague before... the last year & some happened...
3 years in Edinburgh: i wish there were more...
London dragged me back in...
but... it's one thing to walk in a capital city...
taking the public transport...
it simply doesn't allow you to sample the entire:
horizon of the city... the nooks & crannies that
otherwise: a bicycle ride allows...
just today i thought... enough of this area of
makeshift London that's being eaten up...
that the county of Essex is willing to give up...
i need to get some urban salt on my face:
you do return from a heavily urbane area
with a residue on your face that looks like
***** salt... but feels like the purest of sands...
from circa Havering-atte-Bower...
a little village on the hill with Bower Wood
Havering County park... oh... i'd say
1 mile from my home...
from there to Canary Wharf via Canning Town...
via Barking...
taking the CS3... i passed... just after leaving
Barking i came across architecture i can only
best describe as...
postmodernism "gothic"...
            gothic architecture looks menacing...
so did all i passed...
but it was gothic tinged with postmodernism...
it was very much cubism meets Lowry...
although there's this very short segment
of the CS3 where you ride past the
recycling centre at Beckton...
all shaded by trees and a roundabout
underpass... the route becomes very narrow
and there are just enough turns to make you
galvanize your speed a little...
it's a brutal landscape... Barking in general
is brutal... it feels very much like:
Babylon with Pyramids... but the sun was shining
today: and you know what happens
when sunshine glees over Glasgow:
it can almost feel like Edinburgh...
sunshine elevates everything... just like Edward Hopper
said: i just want to paint sunlight...
even the grimmest: grimiest of place can
be elevated & it doesn't have to feel all ******...
before arriving at Barking i had to pass through
the multicultural hub of Ilford Lane...
sari shops... halal butchers...
as a white immigrant: since i'm not... English
per se: by the demands of "born & bred"...
& even thought i was the only one of about
3 white, male faces... it somehow didn't bother me...
seems like being a minority has had its perks
all along!
Asians girls looked at you like some curiosity
equivalent to a spice mixture of cumin,
cardamom, coriander... cinnamon...
must be the suntan: the copper-neck appeal
i sometimes acquire in the summer months...
if these people are "supposedly" conquering these
lands... do they think their...
high-spiritedness and vigour will not
wane under the scrutiny of the weather?!
i sampled some of their imam rhetoric...
yes yes... but once all the english girls have been
vehicles for **** & revenge and rooted out...
while the white boy'ohs are not reproducing with them?
where's the revenge going to come from?
that desert is going to dry up...
these people will return to their own
sacred rites of: oculus per oculus...
an eye for an eye... no?
i'm starting to see the bigger picture... the tomorrow:
i'm starting to like living with a minority status...
it's called Darwinism: proper...
not Darwinism upon inception: with all
that eugenic crap: let cousins **** cousins!
this is... how a species adapts...
i can't exactly grow a pair of wings or become
invisible... i make concessions...
i adapt by... well... making compensation
leverages...
if i'm not a white: native of these lands...
i'll fit in such fine: or so i hope...
after all... a monochromatic society makes much
for nausea... esp. when i return to Warsaw...
my grandmother is still living... when she dies...
though... what reason will i have to visit that
old... fable of a land of my birth?
the English in me is already my own...
i own it...
i'm not just going to give it up...
like i won't give up reading philosophy books in
****** since... they make no ****** sense to me in English:
i'll just read them in one language...
and translate myself an interpretation...
that's how it's going to work...
it worked just fine up to now...
why should it stop?
come to think of it... what happens in eastern vs.
western households?
oh you know:
in western households if a man / woman is still living
with their parents... rather than:
living alone... & paying rent to some stranger...
for some hope of reaching some one night stand quota...
then they're LOSERS...
there's a particular spice to this word...
it's best associated with Sichuan Pepper...
that tongue numbing sensation best associated
with: how the French & the English slowly: but surely...
lost the trill of the R...
there's not much to LOSE when the fatalism
of mortality has your ***...
there's only a waiting game while
some people amass more... and have to give it all
up or... leave it to... failed ******* sons
akin to: how the amassing of wealth & prestige of
the Krupp family became
  Arndt von Bohlen und Halbach....
these supposed "losers"... amass nothing...
leaving nothing... all the better for it...
at least not a dead-end lineage... just dead-end
per se...
but... i can clean around the house... take care
of the cats... be a custodian to the affairs
of the "estate": make a variation of tortellini
with a beetroot borsch...
and... chances are... i will not see my parents
enter an old-people's home...
neglected: relegated to merely a dementia
status...
clingy or... how do those eastern
inter-generational households fair...
compared to the west's championing
of individualism when...
  rent goes **** knows' where: Arab moguls?
two fine examples...
one door down a Nigerian couple in their 60s...
their son & daughter still live at home...
two doors down a Sikh couple likewise
living with their son & daughter...
their son recently managed to throw a houseparty
that attracted circa 30 guests...
oddly enough: he wasn't regarded as a: LOSER...
opposite my house: an English household...
the younger daughter will be moving two doors
down parallel to my house with her would-be hubby...
so she will be in: screaming distance from her
mother's home...
if i am to be paying rent?!
to some anonymous ghost face ****...
forget it!
Darwinism doesn't imply: adapt to the hard-earned
orthodoxy of eugenics in tow:
after all... eugenics came prior to Darwinism:
i don't care much for Darwinism...
i didn't care much for the Copernican inversion
of whether it's a heliocentric or a geocentric model...
in terms of perspectives and coordination:
orientation: i need the "flat-earth" model
to get from X to Y... i don't exactly need
a Z... unless i'm... ******* sailing!
but even then... "Z" doesn't require me the allowance
of... "the earth isn't flat"...
sure as **** it does... if i'm going
from X to Y... no?
the anglo-saxon households will fall, last...
when it comes to inter-generational living
"fall-outs"... i don't mind the periodic celibacy
patterns... if i feel the urge to "get some"
after one of my feline companions entices me too much
while grooming her:
i'll ******* to the brothel and get it over & done with...
i don't need a dating app to... waste my time over...
dating apps... i so *******
oblivious to their existence i can ast least attest
that happens in real life...
i'm also out to not crave ambitions for
offspring... funny how that works...
well... so who's going to take care of you?
me... with the proper incisions when the game is up...
i figured out around cruxes on my body where bloodflow
is concentrated...
under my right-arm-pit...
in my neck... all that's required is a hot bath...
and plenty of mr. whiskers und ms. amber...
i mean: for ****'s sake...
reinterpret Darwinism with individualism:
the "premise" stands:
i will not give up my private library collection...
cooking food others enjoy...
ownership of two cats... but still "living" with my
parents for... four empty ******* walls...
and a chance to somehow... merely...
bring back a dating partner for nothing more
than a fling...
it's like that quote i heard about Neopolitan cooking:
minimum effort: maximum satisfaction...
that's all life has to be...
mind you: is it so... ******* unbearable
to not be able to love your parents, esp. when you can?
i'm always put off my white, western women,
they want too much...
they're never of interest to me:
i know what game they're playing...
i never heard of a herd of "individuals"...
sure... rent... but we can **** in the garden...
in the forest... like this one spice-up i picked up
off of a park bench... a Thai Surprise...
we ****** in the garden... so?
Darwinism without a superiority complex
of the people who conjured it up...
can become... refreshingly... revelatory...
you just don't need to line other people's pockets...
i never used darting apps... never felt a dire
greed to do so...
CS3 is fine while cycling towards Canary Wharf...
i like the grift... the grift...
but the CS2 from Ilford towards St. Paul's...
it's great *** Mile End: on your way back...
but little Bangladesh coming in...
it leaves me with a distaste... too much of
Asia... not enough European postmoderist
"gothic" grit.... nothing too much familiar with
industrialisation...
coming back on the Bow overpass
at Stratford... an Asian couple...
let's just leave a tinge of scrutiny on her...
she looked like Cindarella: before donning
on her ****-up make-up and her glass
stiletto...
she pushed the various traffic buttons
and
stood... in the middle of the bicycle route...
thank god i was d0nning my sunglasses..
it's impossible...
i was eyeing her up...
she was eying me up...
her boyfriend was next to her...
eh... the niqab does little...
easier to don a pair of sunglasses:
if the concept of playing poker arrived for the Arabs
"too late":
i'm pretty sure the ninja attire could be made
simultaneous to the niqab...
chicken or the egg...
did the niqab give birth to the ninja
attire, or what it...             ?

but there's a trajectory where household living
resembles little what: investment in
wholesale looks like...
i like to think of Darwinism as a way
to adapt...
to make concessions...
  they're not pretty concessions...
as an ape... supposedly... i can hardly make
peacock remarks... or therefore:
peacocking... years later though...
but by then...
the fear of exploitation will summon
a paranoia in me of diabolical proportions...

i will have to summon: ****! mode.

that being said... CS2 ius great on your way back from
Canary Wharf.... to... the outskirts of...
what is London... what isn't London...
best life in Paris, though...
best life after life's over: Edinburgh: for sure...
in that respect... London's traffic.
Ryan O'Leary Sep 2018
Fame mixed with celestial
genius, free spiritedness,
wealth and being Italian,
is why the Lacoste socialists
are wishing he would go away
and die somewhere else but
not here as it is a Midi Evil
Village and they do not want
outsiders to discover this by
the mass media coverage that
would ensue when he'd died.


Ps.

Cecile Lindfors, a French native
Lacoste resident, said she has a
bottle of Champagne in her fridge
to celebrate Pierre Cardin's death.
Lacoste is a village in the department
of Vaucluse in Provence. Pierre Cardin
owns Chateau de Sade and 30 houses
here.
Travis Green Sep 2022
I want to hold you close to me
Discover your ***** thuggish construction
Rugged robust ruffian
Let me vacation with your captivatingness
In your immense and intoxicating man cave
Great, enchanting muscleman
You are a constant and ebullient delectation
In my headspace, deep, eye-grabbing grooves
In your lustrous, smooth abs
Breathtaking unmanageable chest
Addictively intriguing shoulders

Fold me in your wondrously
Phenomenal and popping arms
Put your charmwork on my heartland
Be in command of my gayness
Keep an eye on my delightfulness
Be a major factor in my inner space
Tall, gropeable, and irreproachable Casanova
I revere your superiority
Your measureless treasured high-spiritedness
Your season region thick with bewitchingness

Enrapture me, grasp hold of my emotions
Tackle my keen sensual palace
Show me your rowdiness
Make me chow down on your profoundness
Dive into your expressive, passionate ocean
Of sheer irrepressible pleasure
Delicious malicious litness
So mighty and spontaneous
So exciting and spellbinding
How I hanker to sink into your high-pressure
Powerhouse incredibleness

Taste your deliciously exponential equations
Emanating with meltingly hella swell finesse
Leave me in a mess with your teasing
Prepossessing manfulness
Flawless ****** lips that put me
In a state of puzzlement
Craving to bask in your badness
Lick your fervent hairy bareness
Like arctic buzz *****-spiked ice cream
Stream in your infinite reverent limits
Resplendent with steaminess
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2022
- lingo-princess -

tries to rhyme...
too rhyming:
no better use.      502 bad gateway bypass.


it's very logical...
the Japanese approach, to say, something like
the following:
it begins with an ideogram for bird 鳥 (トリ)
                              TO-RI
an archetypical noun-idea complex
but then... follows down into pure sounds...
the Katakana syllables:
カラス (KA-RA-SU) -
i imagine it's the same with other animals...
yep... just checked the category: dog...
and then Alsatian...
            Bukowski wrote this melancholic poem
about bird watching...
me... i like to watch birds as well...
esp. pigeons, urban pigeons and woodland pigeons:
those that are much fatter...
and appearing cleaner...
   but when i watch them... it's the same story...
i'm a ****** of their almost constant courtship
failures... i've never seen one male have
success with the female...
     there's something to learn from that...
stiff: prickly virgins i'm guessing...
                     fun's currently the issue...
       a backlog of the fun previous generations
had from being sexually liberated has sort of stalled
us: also having fun...
   a blatant shift in the Victorian direction...
mind you... if women want the full package these days...
a guy with his own apartment...
sure... and if i had a wife and kids... or if i was
a single father... i just might swing being put on
a list for council accommodation...
fat chance of that: ever happening...
       it's like people on a diet of ready-made food...
if there's no effort in making it...
why bother eating it?
          whatever happened to that free-spiritedness
for celebrated with nostalgia for the 1960s?
gone... fizzled out... died a very strange death...
attempts to celebrate it again with
modern technology and hook-up applications...
yawn... please: up-front...
       i don't want fakery of emotional attachment...
barnackle hearts... clingy...
                no... but looking at these pigeons...
all their recurrent failures...
in my vicinity? how many guys are still living
at home? with the dreaded western concept
of ****** men... with their parents...
      ooh... scary... Ed Gein just around the corner...
with the coroner...
a different reality... to my best estimate...
there's me... there's Joseph next door...
the guy next to my left, Nigerian... and his sister
is also living at home... two doors down...
Sim... and his sister... opposite the street this other
guy... and a few doors down... the case is the same...
because what's the alternative?
sharing a house with flatmates -
would it turn out like from Friends episode?! magically?!
because... those flatmates wouldn't be jealous
if you brought a **** home?!
pigeons get rejected all the time...
but... i see a crow...
             hmm... that's another matter...
   on the continent esp. in central Europe crows
are more sociable... they actually flock...
you can sometimes spot clouds of them that if...
properly arranged... could overcome the sun...
but in England, this mythical land...
once... i'll give you that one...
i saw crows congregate for a meeting of sorts
in a tree... once...
   but the rest of the time?
they usually fly in pairs...
   Huginn and Muninn
                (ᚻᚢᚷᛁᚾᚾ und ᛗᚢᚾᛁᚾᚾ)...
and if they're not flying in pairs... and there's only one...
then it's usually Huginn... the will...
memory... ha ha... sort of forgot to come
along... ****** off somewhere...
had a spontaneous spell of amnesia...
that crow was always going to be unpredictable...
like my memory... it's selective:
i never remember what i want...
i remember what i must...
it must be that pedagogy erosion of rubrics
of alphabet and arithmetic...
  and biological facts that... really don't brighten
the day when you're stuck doing menial
physical labour... seems like... educations
ends up being a waste of time for most...
but... i've never seen crows attempting mating...
pigeons... all the ****** time...
they make it so ****** obvious that they want
to get it on... but crows....
when do they do it? in the night?
otherwise... they look pretty content with
being intrigued... even with boredom...
if birds could yawn... a crow would be like:
what the **** was that?!
  and he'd remain in a pensive pose imitating
a relieved Atlas...
but there must be a slot in me within
the confines of Darwinism - after all...
Darwinism is going rampant in the dating game...
once: the awe of the natural world...
now... the murky world of human affairs...
i'm sort of bored with Darwinism...
   probably because man is on some variation
of autopilot... there are strict ontological parameters
in place... and... you're expected to
not go beyond these: to not transgress them...
seems rather, boring...
too many loops to jump through to get
to a status that might allow you to exercise certain
freedoms...
            who ever said that high quality ***
exists in the upper-echelons of society...
            a year ago it was Madonna...
a month ago it was Rihanna...
                a week ago it was Dua Lipa...
a day ago it was either Mabel or Billie Eilish...
rotation: on rotation: roll on roll off...
                         girls are really on rotation...
the tyranny of youth the tyranny of beauty...
at 35... i've finally sorted out something...
oh: blessed hours of being alone...
well: "alone": this Maine **** is a real clingy
bloodhound sort of a cat, sort of a dog...
why even think you can get the best ***
with as much money as you can muster?
look at me... i'm not bothered...
i like well worn leather...
   i like beauty that resembles something mandible...
ugh... frigid... tight-knit ****** bodies...
inexperienced... almost... ******* alongside
a necrophilia advocate...
        how many? i, either... lost count...
or... i forgot to count...
  but a poet is not a musician in a rock band...
and it's not the right time to boast like
Bukowski might have boasted... just after world war II...
with so many widows and girls who lost their
boyfriends in the events that took place...
always sloppy seconds...
   Mr. Crab-Second-Slurp...
                    ****... i was about to write: Slurb...
**** me... buy a car... and then what?
pay insurance?! pay road tax...
so you own a ride... but you still have to pay up
to owning it? and all that maintenance...
i buy a bicycle... i pay for...
the maintenance that is my own right...
of ownership... tubes and tyres if they get flat...
oil for the chain... what insurance?!
what road tax?!
             could a bicycle leave... ***-holes in the road?
it's refreshing having this monetary ******
in place...
you always know... when not to overspend...
it's very character building to be "cheap":
cheap... well... not being flamboyant with spending...
only yesterday i met myself with a revelation
that only arrived today when i weighed myself...
a few hills up and down between Chigwell Row
and Havering-atte-Bower...
dropped from 102.1kg to... 99.1kg...
   in one session... three ******* kilograms dropped
in 2 hours worth of cycling...
       i'm going to take it easy today...
lift more weights... do more push-ups...
ugh.... this springtime phlegm is getting to me...
i abhor waking up and harking it out;
hold up... hold up...
a glitch... in terms of seasons in Japanese...
why is Spring... not in ideogram?
all the other seasons are in ideogram form...
but... Spring... isn't?

p.s. find the rest, here:
https://allpoetry.com/poem/16435789-%E6%98%A5-%E5%A4%8F-%E7%A7%8B-%E5%86%AC-by-Matthew-Conra­d.
Travis Green Apr 2022
Embrace him with sheer sweet pleasure
Taste his deep, exquisite treasures
Lick him delicately and passionately
Focus on the flow of his poetry in motion
Immerse myself in his submerged mind
Delight in his divine starlight brightness
Give sensual smoking kisses
To his deliciously wild and potent flesh

Take in his rude, rugged, and ruthless masculinity
His sheer, clean, and pristine virility
Stimulate his sensations, inhale his refreshingness
Linger in his distinctively keen and sensuous memories
His remarkably copious dopeness
Such a fond, glorious, and impeccable maestro
Notably inspiring machoness, bright, striking indescribableness

I sink into his ingenuiousness, high-spiritedness, and lithesomeness
I am highly beguiled by his momentousness and stylishness
I want to traverse in his entrance of dreaminess
Allow my fingers to ooze over the smoothness of his physique
Feel his ever-growing, romantic, and creative passion
Explore his hot, wild, sensuous, and unrestrained domain
Travis Green Nov 2021
You are a memory now
That is inside my heart
Glistening greater than anything
A sophisticated lover
Hotter than molten lava
A rock-solid mountain of magicalness
So super groovy like a superstar in a movie
I want to cruise in your coolness
To feel your soothigness
Wondrous saffron beauty
Smoky loving bad boy
So right that I can’t dislike
Anything about him

You are like a dancing sea of bliss
An eminent, illustrious star
A bright, glorious galaxy of dreams
I could disappear from sight
Into everything that defines your existence
Receive your warmth, love, and serenity with open arms
Ravel in your maze of mantastically mesmerizing limits
Revere your high-spiritedness and invitingness
Your sweet talk to my heart
A crescendo of affection, a pure blessing
I watch you more, and I seep into your storm
Of fondly teasing and unbounded joy

There is enchantment in the dimensions of your body
Romance that amplifies in your chest
Sheerly exciting, profound sensations running through my mind
Hot, unadulterated passion raining upon my flesh
Your breath mingling with my neck
Reeling me into your erupting spark of arousal
Short wavy hair that feels so comforting to touch
How I rub the back of your head
Leave a wave of sweetness upon you
Kiss your cheeks, your ears, your lips

We can go far away into a world of nirvana
Tantalize your robust and warm chest with my tongue
Let my gayness stream over your aroused skin
Steal away your straightness, let you feel the magic
Of my mouth on your abdomen, your **** pelvic area
Your exposed, dopetastic pole, your ***** nuts
I want to delve into the innermost parts of you
Devour you delicately, our hands attached
Our emotions running wild, our moans strengthening
I am so exceedingly gay in the way your captivatingness
Attracts me to you more, makes me get lost
In the seconds, minutes, and hours that we love each other

You are all over me, my mouth, my *******, my hard, large pecker
You consume everything; you make me explode
An ocean of cherishable, milky ecstasy on your hands
As you stroke your incredibly beefy meat
Using my sticky creaminess as ****, then beckoning me
To bring my mouth nearer to manly enchanting pipe
Releasing thick, delectable clouds of pleasure inside my mouth
Travis Green Sep 2021
I want to melt
Into his divineness
His poetry of dreams
Drift into his sereneness
Into his kingdom
Of impeccable poetry
His warm, wondrous lips
How our breaths stream
In unison, how our eyes
Stay aligned, how our minds
Are full of insight
Full of spiritedness
Lay on the sofa with him
Sheerly naked, spacey
Rest my head on his big shoulders
Travel in paradise
His hands on my belly
With his kisses on my cheeks
My neck as I feel his
Supreme thighs
Drowning in his strength
Calling him my prince
Everything that spellbinds my senses

— The End —