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Wil Wynn Apr 2010
No One Knew His Name
when the woman called nine eleven she said
there is a guy sitting on the stoop
he's dead..
the nine eleven woman, martha, said
how do you know he
s dead we get plenty of calls like tha
t

she said, the woman, said
he
s got flies in his eyes

martha said we are gonna
be right there!

2.two condoms and a crucifix

when the coroner people cam
e he was still sitting on the stoop
still dead his breath no longer
straining the winter air
then they took pix and measured things
rigor mortis already had set in
and when they took th e pix
they showed two condoms and a crucifix
falling out of his pocket into the light of day

the woman who found him so still
she said it is strange
to see such disparate things spilling out of his pocket
he
was still dead and i believe he
s kept his state of being stubborn as he is/was
he remains forevermore stilled

we talked about those three things
two concepts really
two condoms and a crucifix
and we could not figure out which
he loved the most
because we never heard him speak of
anything but god crack *** amphetamine
trinity cooh, ya know?

3. Discovery Indeed

he came from wolf lake mn
population 31
when he left it went down to 25
ten thousand lakes
he could not imagine living there
anymore
but did he know at the end of the trail
what was he looking for?
two condoms and a xfix
my god he said
although he did not ever believe in such
extravagance
just before he went to sleep
perhaps to be still forever more
my god he said
as the soporific hit blessed
whatever was left of his short life
my god he said
although he was agnostic or so he said
my god
he could not have believed had he not heard them words
himself
as he grabbed the condoms and kissed the xfix
or maybe it was the other way around.

4. No ****
sitting on his ***** chair
he put his hands between his legs
reached for the ****
and squeezed:
yellowish stuff strained out between his fingers.

his grandma slapped him, hard

5. Things Looking Up

he lay down on the floor
to look up the neighbor's dress
he saw a pair of legs descend
from pink *******

then his grandma picked him up
slapped him, hard.

6. Harbinger

winter flew in harsh in minnesota,
battered houses, pine trees,
the wide landscape into submission
let the wind run whistling, whipping
subservient snow, whitewhirlwinding
down desolate fields and lanes

one day it got so cold
spit froze before it hit the ground
it made a little noise midair

7. Cold Dogs

one time he saw some fifteen dead dogs
piled by the side of a road
frozen like the rest of the landscape

even as an adult he wondered
what THAT had been about

8. *** Is Child's Play

in the first grade he fell in love with miss renee
the teacher who let him put his head down on her legs
and petted his head while he glowed glowed glowed
he learned to love school and read read read
so ms renee would say Joe, read!
and he would

one time he dreamed he had *** with miss renee
*** was tying something between her legs
a knot of love in her ******

so how did he know about such things
at five? he always wondered about that.

9. Revelation

his fishing pole was gone!
he looked and looked while spring time
raised giant mosquitos that buzzed and buzzed
about his head

he never found his fishing pole
he thought that maybe when you die
and go to heaven
god showed you in a sort of movie
what had happened so you'd nod yer head and say
yeh, i'd never would have guessed grandma

gave it away.

10. Alone At Last

say to the darkness this
emptiness covers all this
suffusing light scrapes away
some pain some excruciating i am
lucid preamble to my nevermores
in plural congruent universes
coexisting rapt in its own
say this is a dream a vertigo
a swirling metaphor for then/now/and again
can days still mean something new
today everyone left
everyone left


staring out the window at six years old
he saw woods slowly fade into the night
he thought they sank
into an oblivious fog

why didn't i go to the neighbors' house

11. Death Becomes The Fisherman

the lakes were all around
they said let's go see the drowned man
so they went to the shore
a boat with two men rowing
approached
you could see a hand and an arm sticking out
from somebody lying on the floor
someone said "hey, he
s waving"
close to the shore
the wind brought the overpowering
stink of death
that shocked him because he'
d not thought of "drowned" as "dead"

they brought the body out
to the shore
covered it waiting for the coroner to show up

mother and sister cried nearby
neither could approach the stinking corpse

he then realized that no matter what
you can't kiss a rotting corpse.

12. Rubber Match

the first time he met a ******
there was no formal intro
he just found it in his father'
s drawer
filled it with water
dumped it on the neighbor
s'
yard

later on he could hear them fight

13.Prurient Discovery

when he was 13 he made love to her
who was 16
and all he could think about
was how gross it was and wet

until he came

then his opinion suddenly
changed

for the

better

14. Death Is

his grandmother was sick
in the MN winter cold home
she coughed and coughed
so she
put kerosene on her back
and chest
he saw she got blisters
he did not want to help
clean them up
so he hid
until she was quiet for a couple of days

he went to see her she was dead
so he stayed drunk for a week or so
until he could not stand the stink no more

15. The Beginning of the End

he went to a foster home
there were 5 other teenagers there
the first night
he went to bed
someone put a pillow on his head
while hands turned him over
held him down
pulled his pjs down
5 guys ***** him then and there

the next day he ran away

16. The End of the Beginning

they brought him back 23 times
on the 24 he met one of the kids
by the lake
stuck a knife under the guys
ribcage on the right side

all the guy did was sigh
and slide slowly down

he pushed the guy into the water
somehow it took weeks to find the body
by then nobody could tell he'd been stabbed

but none of the kids ever held him down
again

17. COOH

alcohol alcohol
its sweet old name tells me all
i need to know how spinning
the world distances itself
in a warm blood red haze
and only a swollen torpor remains
alcohol alcohol
its sweet old name tells me all
i need to know
and not to know

18. Not Late, Just Timely

time 'sss a stone a sash a thunderbolt up high
a rudder a list a lisp a restless meandering
time 'sss a spire a fish still below the waves
a constraint a push a shove a deal a nothing
time 'ssss a look a lock a rail
a sunrise a fall a crack a vial
time 'sss a sock a pen a handgun
a radiant breeze a solid solid hand
two elbows and one mouth

he took his time and time took him
step by step he climbed the stairs of his cognizance
such as it was just this
no hope

i say no hope but no despair either
the world sometimes it's just the way it is
he understood that but what to make
of this breathing hearing seeing tasting feeling smelling
thinking self
he knew not
and in not knowing
he passed the time that isss not
what you think it isss
time 'sss not even a ticking tocking clock
just let it be he said to himself
time 'sss not me
yet time isss me

and he took another ****


19. Luger

his father came back to town one day
the war had been over for a few years then
they told him where he could find his father and he went
and watched his father, dressed in combat rags,
as he counted the fingers of his shooting hand

they exchanged glances and he left

got drunk and did not hear or see his father ever again.

20. Life As A Long One Night Stand

the girls are many the girls are new
every day they seems to look at you
and you melt and then you are gone
in another trip with another stranger
in your bed do not say much
cause *** is just another drug

just cheaper and easier to get
than smack

21. Epitaph

he learned a song and a little dance
at the emergency rooms where he got
the prescription pain killers man he could
lie and act and pretend so much
he knew they'
d really have to give him stuff
cause that'
s the way that things work
in big city hospitals
he re-membered a doc who smiled at him
saying man you'll be dead soon
although you think you are fooling me
the only fool in this room is you

he laughed cause he could not agree more
put that in my tombstone he said
the doc said no, you are gonna do it all by yourself

22. Lost Weekend
-.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.-
-.- -.- -.- -.-
-.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.-
-.- -.- -.- -.-

23. Dashes and Spaces
---- -- -- - - --- --
-- - -- -- -- - - -- - -- -- -
--- - - - - - -- - -- - - - --- - -
-- - - -- -- -- -- ---- - - --

24. Two Condoms

at the end of the road
the road the empty road
the sinuous complex road
the road the heavy road
where lust and love entwine
who knows the end or the beginning
who knows alpha or omega
who the what who the where who even
the hidden sentient how
the nothingness the emptiness
of come and come and come
just emptiness of not becoming
he heard himself saying screaming
at the end of something like a bumpy ride
she was who knows who but she was
you know the hole the whole the mankind whole
the all embracing whole the whole hole
the destination origin
the one and all
he said here i belong elementary
i exist because of this
he pounded pounded in his anguish
of becoming one and whole
he howled his grief intermittent
as pulse wave of heart
the heat of his despair
the only drug that it's living protein
he felt his way
and then was gone from virile crisis
to distant remote self acquiring its orthodoxy of despair
because as he put it once you cannot ever **** yourself
square the circle as it were
so he accepted two trojans
at the bar when a guy in the adjacent ****** said
these are the best and yes
we gotta protect ourselves
and left the couple of rubbers
by the sink
and he would have washed his hands
had he known how
but instead put them products in his pocket
a premonition of some kind of future bliss
tugging the sleeve of his presentiment

carving already a vast innocent tomorrow
while he walked out

he truly did not care

25. Crucifix

at the end of the road the empty road, the road full of lies, deceit and a hunger so great it overwhelmed all else, at the end, the terminus, the appointed hour, at the end of the alpha, the omega, the in-between, the road sinuous road that led down the miriad steps to the steps on a stoop in the city of new york, at the end of a long concatenation of minutes, each ethereal, insubstantial, a construct, a vapid dream or nightmare indeed he sat down one last time with his burden of hours to dream one last warm oblivious cozy, embracing shroud, sweet balm to assuage the freezing claws of grief. in the seedy bar last
night he met a blonde who said, your eyes remind me of a long ago boyfriend, he said well, he musta been one hell of a guy, she said indeed, he died in iraq, suicide, ******* he said that is not right, she said we are all at war, daily intimate war, i think, who said we met the enemy and it's us? he did not know but understood, he said although denial is more than a river in egypt, ha ha, but they both got it since they both craved the same intoxication, the same zig-zag and feint, she said the first time i got drunk i was eleven, that was my first time for *** too, he said the first time i got drunk i too was eleven, the night had fallen i was alone in wisconsin among the wolves of winter howling their relentless wind outside, i found a bottle of the hard stuff, not beer like everybody drank i could not stand the taste it was too bitter, but gin, and i drank it convulsed at first by the shock, then not, just drinking a few more gulps and believed i had found the greatest gift on earth, the greatest warmest kindest confidant, she said you talk funny, but i understand what you are talking about, i know the allure but my hangovers, wow, he said no, i never got one, but. here is the but. i knew a limit, i was never blind blind drunk until much later in new york, she said we each have our cross to bear and laughed and dontcha just wanna do a line now ha ha, and it went on like that for quite a while. when she was leaving she said, you wanna see something funny, yeah he said, she brought out a crucifix and it was indeed jesus, his mouth open, imploring relief from his harsh dad, and he had a gold tooth, blue eyes and dreads, he laughed and said that's quite contemporary and she said wha? you don't think he looked like that? but really who knows what the truth was, he said or is, so they both lifted one in memory of the dear departed one who had caused so much trouble here on earth, but, she said, he did not mean it, here keep it and he did. later on he found his fix it was extra good ****, too good in fact, and who knows, when he sat there with flies in his eyes, his life a dream, invention, make believe, whether any of the episodes were true at all, sob stories to assuage the beast of craving within, get his hand in your pocket and whether, as he sank below the surface of his tortured bliss, he saw his true light at long last.
Graff1980 Jul 2015
There is fire in the dance. The head of a candle burning and flickering in time to the dancer’s movement. The flame sways to and fro, responding to the dancer’s energy. Then the candle disappears.  

Blisters begin to bubble up upon the dancer’s skin; then fully formed explode with liquid fire. Screams of agony reverberate across her tortured flesh. Her cries go silent as the pain slowly fades.  The dancer becomes a living flame.

So, she dances.  Each step scorching the soft ground, leaving little fires in their wake. Her legs ascend at an angle and descend in a spin. Hands clasped and rising upwards as her feet return to the earth. The fire trailing her movements like living echoes.  Enflamed arms opening and closing with billows of smoke expanding around them. The ground burns beneath her feet as she leans her head back slowly.

Her face consumed by the flames fury; she attempts to howl. Instead of sound, rivers of crimson liquid explode from her lips. Jets of blood red water congeal into shiny flesh. First, impressions of a face form in the flat flowing puddle of scarlet goo. Then, a neck, next something akin to limbs takes shape.
The red rawness is evident but not painful, as she spews the last bits of the red liquid. Drips of crimson drops from the newly formed figure fall on the flaming dancer. The droplets sounding a soft beat and sizzle in rhythmic fashion like a drum snare; T sss T sss T sss T sss. The flaming dancer shudders in pleasure. The flames, encouraged by the dark moisture, recede then rise, as rouge vapors smoke off its’ figure. The fluid form expands further forming sinuous strands of cerise liquid hair.

Pirouetting in a whirlwind fashion the dancer continues her ballet. Her leg rises again as she leans back. Her head, inches from the ground, drops liquid fire. Then she straightens her tiny flaming frame. Behind her the red watery body slides its hands across the ground, calming the flames, and leaving only scorched and sticky earth in its wake.

So it goes with each movement the dancer lights the earth afire, and behind her the flames are doused. Each minute passing the fire weakens and shrinks as does the scarlet body. Until at last they embrace. The dancer’s arms rest upon her sides as the crimson liquid figure envelopes her.
One more red stroke across the canvass and the figures blend perfectly. One color fading and bleeding into the next in perfect abstraction. The month long dance finally finished. The brush is rinsed then ceremoniously placed in its spot. The artist sighs, there is a slight sense of relief, for this dance is finished, but an echo of sorrow remains for this dance is finished.
[I accidentally deleted this, so now I'm reposting it]
This is not an attack, it is expression.
This apparently isn't a very popular subject,
but then again, when has popularity changed anyone's mind..

--
**** the 'Selective Service System'; the SSS.
It's neo-conscription.
FDR made us a deal we couldn't refuse
which included a stipulation
that about half of us still cannot refuse:

Selective Service
also known as
Peacetime Draft

But only for males. Only the males.
Not the females, though. Oh, no, not the females;

We need the Females
to bake the next batch of mindless soldiers/housewives/neoslaves.
We need the women to uphold the status-quo.
We need our women
to remain passive, docile, and beautiful ******* doormats
for our glorious and infallible western society.
We need our women
to be complaint, subservient, ***-starved, archaic-gender-role embodiments.

I see it as overtly 'cherry-picking' as well as misogyny both ways;
sexist, selfish, and prejudiced on both sides:

'Feminists' (read: Feminazis) claim to plea for true gender equality, but here is my plea:
If such is true, where then are their demands for mandatory selective service?
Why do they feel above reproach when it comes to the unsavory sides of society?
Why do they turn a blind eye to the ******* Draft if they ***** up such a storm about equality?
Why is it not a federal offense punishable by a $250,000 fine as well as up to 5 years in prison
for a female to not sign their life away to the military from when they turn 18 until at least 25?

How is that 'gender equality'?
Huh?
They, too, are cherry-picking.
-
Sieg Heil the SSS!
Sieg Heil Amerika!
Amerika über alles!
Wir lieben unsere Gewehren!
Wir lieben unsere Götter!
Wir lieben unsere Regierung!
A bit of this is me playing Devil's advocate, but at the same time I find that there is some innate truth to it.
-
All hail the SSS (play on the SS, the Schutzstaffeln, ******'s personal semi-secret paramilitary Police)
All hail America!
America over [it] all!
We love our guns!
We love our Gods! (hah! Monotheists.. get it?)
We love our Government!
Skylar Peek Aug 2014
Such simplicity
Sitting here alone writing
Stupid tales for you
I went above the roof of my so-called humble home;
Don't think I'm feeling lonely just because I'm alone;
My older brother is present maybe he is fast asleep;
Even my friends and loved ones have dark secrets they hide and keep;

I don't mind I have done much worst than you can think of;
Honestly, it doesn't bother me, there are many crucial problems we need to solve;
If we keep our eyes closed then yes we can smile, laugh drowning ourselves in ecstasy with bliss;
That is fine with me if everyone can do it, but if we see what is truly happening around us and we have a beating heart, tears in our very eyes would not cease;

If I just want to do what I wanted I would love to be with the girl, the woman who saved me, maybe hopefully I honestly love;
But If horrible war and all the crazy things around the world are still going on, what's the sense of everything I'll do, please enlighten me those who hear me from above, all your blessings I'll grab;

If I'll inspire the younger generation will it work?
I have already made many unacceptable things I'm worst than a ****;
If I do good or bad in the standard of this world could it make everyone happy and smile?
I lived in the City of smiles, but can every people be truly happy in facing life's trials?

All the ugly, disgusting things I've done whatever they are I don't deny it;
Some of it makes me stupid, a good-for-nothing fool any word you're hungry to add, no good all bad,
and at times makes me lose hope and end the very life I have;
but no I'll embrace every experience I have and endure all the aftermath and still fight, I'll never quit;

Honestly, I'm tired of pleasing people, but deep inside I want to please that girl/woman who saved me;
And most of all the one who gave me my life the one who created me;
Other people call the Father I know God or whatever any other name for the source of all creation;
So if it's fine for you, whoever reading this let me call the one who created me, my Father the one I invoke if I need immense inspiration;

Forgive me if the words I use bother anyone of you;
Yes I know, I have trouble using them, if only you have a clue;
If I'll be true in everything I do and say;
Can every ear and heart handle it? If it's the answer to every problem will you follow each step of the way?

If I'll be a righteous pious zealous man with the grace of our Creator in just one snap overnight;
Would anybody follow me and do the same and leave all the wrongdoings which are unpleasing to every sensible rational being's sight?
Yes, I know every human being have their principles, ideologies whatever philosophy in living;
But in life and death situations you can truly see if what you are looking and standing for is worth dying;

Yes, it's easy to say words, sing songs, write poems, or whatever at this time and age;
But you can only know what is true if your very life is at risk and face your life's unpleasing page;
When I was younger I easily get into a rage and make a reckless decisions;
But now I can just act like I'm angry with good intentions;

Yes at times I get ****** when someone, anyone bothers me;
And at times I get so cold everything vanishes in my sight not a single soul worth for me to see;
At times I wish this world could be a paradise once more;
But at times when I get blinded I wish this world would tremble to its very core;

The things I say may appear so vicious and malicious;
Isn't we human beings capable of that, kindly answer that, and don't be pretentious;
In my experience it is true I could do the worst possible thing I can imagine;
I don't care if you list my name in every sin;

But no I still have hope and dreams for the future of our world and every living being staying in this place we are sharing;
Who the hell I am to make a change in this world, I know one thing in the vastness of creation I am nothing;
That is why I have nothing to gain or to lose;  
I could just do nothing and be safe and wait for my story to end or simply die but now I'll be reckless and say things I bottled up, forgive me if that is what I choose;

I say these things because I see and feel what is happening here and around;
Violence is just around the corner great or small even in our very selves it can be found;
I don't say these things to put anyone down or destroy people's hope;
I just say what is true, but we need to face it and hold on to that redemptive rope;

Many of us want solutions to the problems we encounter may they be great or small;
But when the answers to the problems are facing us, some of us run and roll;
Sorry, I'll say a ***** word influenced by a well-known country;
**** it I'll spend all day writing until I'll run out of words even If I will sound crazy;

Honesty I'm not comfortable using this English language;
I love to speak in my mother tongue or just be silent but I need to do what is needed in our time and age;
Writing this, whatever you may call this would not give me anything;
but who knows it can stir something, make bells ring;

The first concern that comes to my mind is the
extreme weather and war;
Let me think about what will I talk about first
cause both things can leave bitter scars;
Many of us are always in a hurry to go somewhere;
We use and ride vehicles or any transportation that pollutes the air just to mention a few and say yes we still care;

Oh! I want to say the ***** word! but can we be true to ourselves and swear to vanish into existence or simply die?
If we including you and me human beings with our endless activities are the cause of extreme weather conditions please to ourselves don't we lie;
Can we give up the things that contribute to the devastation of our planet our home?
Or settle for a half-*** lukewarm solution and wait for the worst then we all tremble to our very bones;

Let me ask, those who have homes or shelter you frankly love to spend your time staying in every day;
What will you do if a pest or anything is destroying it I ask this nicely anyway;
Likewise our common home our planet called earth do we honestly take care?
Or just open our eyes every time there is a calamity happening anywhere;

Then close our eyes once more when it seems peaceful and calm;
Knowing we're slowly gradually contributing to our world's injury, I don't express this to everyone but maybe some;
I don't know maybe I have already done unimaginable damage to our planet;
If so I'll face any consequences but please let us do the things needed to be done before we all fall and regret;

I don't forget I'm just passing by spending some time in this world of ours;
If I ask forgiveness and do nothing to solve the problems, It's better to die or stay behind bars;
Let's not play dumb, we know we human beings are so intelligent;
Isn't human beings invented things that could destroy our world does that sound excellent?

Let us learn and go back to history what occur to that country Japan;
If that emerges once more, I don't know if we could still have some fun;
Wait I'm not done, why do we follow leaders or rulers who lead us to a pit;
I don't know if I have a leader who is like that the hell with him/her I'll quit;

Why don't those leaders fight their war and leave others be;
Imagine you're peaceful and someone bothers you or me;
They want peace and want to talk it out but they are ready to ****;
What on earth is wrong with our heads, we need to check it out is that the first thing we need to heal?

I have heard enough of myself writing in a foreign language;
With all due respect I'll use another for the next page;
Bato bato sa langit ang ma igo please wag tayo always galit;
Pasensyahi lang ko kung kis-a syado ko ka kulit kag bua-ngit kis-a gani ako yagit;

Ang panit ko medyo nang ***-om sang sulay sa adlaw;
Pero ako man kis-a maka yuhom kag ginagmay maka kadlaw;
May ti-on sang una nga ako daw isa ka patay nga ga balang-balang;
Mayu lang damu nag salbar sa akon, kag ako na banhaw kag daw alang-alang na mag talang;

Pero samtang ga ginhawa pa ako hindi ko ka hambal sang tapos;
Ka nugon sang mga tinaga kung indi mapasaburan kag mapabay-an lang nga gaka pan-os;
Sa tuod lang ka tawhay diri sa gina tiniran ko na panimalay;
Simpli lang ang kabuhi ga biya biyahi e-bike ga dul-ong sang pasahero nga ga sakay;

Sinsilyo ginagmay, biskan ang balay gani indi mani akon;
Salamat sa akon amay kag iloy daw ara lng sila gihapon;
Buenas lang ko sa mga grasya na akon na baton;
biskan wala na gani si nanay ga sulod gyapon iya pensyon;

Para sa SSS kung may sala man ko na himo ari lang ko sa balay kung ako inyo dakpon;
Kay kung mag sulod pa gihapon sa atm pwede ko pana ma gamit sa amon galastuson;
Wala ko kabalo kung inyu na gina hungod;
Bangud gatingala man ko ang grasya wala ga untat sulod;

Kay kung sa inyu layi dibala dapat wala na nga grasya ma sulod tani;
Pero kung sigihon ninyu pasulod ay ka tahum kanami;
Pero ka balo man ako damo na may ma batikos kag ma hisa;
Pasensyahi lang ako batunon ko na ang ihambalon ninyu tuod man gina paguwa sang akon dila;

Daw ka bug-at abi kung ang isa ka tawo may gina tago tago;
Amo ina nga tanan ko nga sala bahala kamo mag sintensya kay ako kadali lang mag ako;
Dumduman ko sang gamay pa ako na mana ko kay tatay nakon and iya hapo;
Medyo hubin pa ko kabalo na man ako kung ma patay ako kung diin ako ma kadto;

Sang gina ataki ako sang asthma daw ma bugto ang ginhawa kag daw ma ubos akon pwersa;
Gina hulat ko ang akon nanay nga ga langoy sa lamesa pero okay lang na siya intindihan ko na;
Natun-an ko sa kabuhi hindi man permi permi ara aton mga abyan biskan pamilya;
Amu ina sang amu to nga ti-on nag tawag ako sa kung sin-o man sa akon nag hurma nag tuga;

Kung lantawon ko gani liwat ang na tabo; akon man to sala nga ako gina hapo;
Sa bisyo ko na sigarilyo kag pahubog na inom;
Na ani ko lang mga bagay na akon gin tanom;

Amu ina mga kabataan indi manami kung inyu ma agyan ang akon na agyan;
Kay kadamo nga dalan ang akon na laktan;
May ara man kasanag kag mga matahum;
May tyempo man nga kala-in kag ka dulom;

Pero salamat sa nag patilaw sang kabuhi sa nag tuga sa akon;
Ako ari paman gasulat buhi pa man sa giyapon;
Pero balik ta sa isturya sang tyempo kag klima;
Kag kung anu anu pa ang gaka tabo isa pagid na ang mga giyera;

Sa tuod lang matyag ko ang kabuhi ko daw ako na hampangan na tripan;
Wala ko kabalo kung tungod sa mga gina sulat sulat ko, ahay ewan;
Sang una mag sulat ko kung ano ano daw wala man may ga sapak;
Pero subong ambot hindi lang ko sure daw hindi ko ka giyo kag ka palak;

Wala ko gani ka balo ngaa amu ini ang na agyan ko na direksyon;
Wala man ko ga riklamo biskan anu subong akon ma dangpan na sitwasyon;
pasalamat lang ko ka tilaw man ko mabuhi nga isa ka tawo;
Nga maka dumdum sang mga memorya kag maka paminsar sang mga bagay-bagay sa
sulod sang akon ulo;

Intindihan ko man ang iban mahambal sagi ka sulat wala mana pulos usik lang na tyempo;
Pasensyahi lang ko kay gamay lang akon kalipayan amu lang ini mahatag ko sa inyu;
Labay man lang akon na pamangkot kung ikaw abi gaan chansa kag ti-on;
Himo-on ka isa ka lider, presidente, prime minister; okon hari na may mansyon anu una mo na obrahon?

Sa mga bagay bagay kag gaka tabo sa aton subong nga panahon;
Kung kis-a gaka lipat kita biskan sa kahoy may pulos man na iya mga dahon;
Biskan ano kapa ka gamay kung kita tanan ga binuligay indi ayhan ina matawhay?
Kung ikaw abi isa ka lider okon amay nami-an kabala nga kita mag inaway-away?

Hindi ko ka intindi ngaa ang mga tawo ga pinatyanay;
Kung amu man lang ni ang bwas damlag sang mga kabataan mayu pa mag tulog na ga tulo ang laway;
Katawhay tani galing kung amu sina daw tinamad na man na daw buhi nga patay;
Dibala sang una kita tanan basi gina kugos man lang sang aton nanay okon tatay kag kung kis-a man mga tupad balay;

Ngaa dapat kung ga dako nata dapat gid bala mag dako man aton mga ulo haw?
Pyerdihon man ta gihapon sang baka kag karabaw may dala pa na sungay ka luoy man galing kis-a sa ila kung sila gina ihaw;
Sabagay ga mahal na man mga balaklon pati mga pagkaon;
Medyo maayo mana siguro ang sustansya sang utan para sa aton;

Kis-a maka hambal kita bay-e dira ang mga gaka tabo wala man ta gaka epiktohan;
Te kung ikaw gaan isa ka blessing para maintindihan mo, ibutang ka sa ma-dulom kag pwerti ka teribli na dalan sang kabuhi para ma inat imo nga paminsaron kag balatyagon kag imo ma intindihan;
Gina pangabay ko lang na imo ma sarangan ang mga leksyon sang kabuhi na tani aton tanan ma tun-an;
Buenas lang mga tawo nga permi lang sa masanag kag manami na dalan ang gina agyan, indi man siguro tanan;

Sa kadamo sang kala-inan nga na himo ko Amay nga nag tuga sa akon pasensyahi kag sintensyahi na lang ako;
Kung may butig kag indi matuod sa akon gina sulat subong maayo pa kilatan mo na lang ako;
Ako nga nag sulat sini isa ka tawo na indi perpekto sa mata sang mga tawo;
Ginoo Amay ko nga nag tuga sang akon ulo, mata, paminsaron, corazon kag ini mga kamot gabayi lang ako;

Sa kada tinaga nga ma sulat ko diri subong tani makabulig hilway sa akon kaugalingon kag balatyagon;
Kay mag abot ang ti-on na kina-hanglan ko ini balikan kag basahon may gabay na ako sa akon distinasyon;
Sa isturya na man sa akon kabuhi ang pahina parti sa gugma romantiko kag relasyon;
Sa edad ko subong na traynta-uno sa gugma
romantiko na aspeto daw bata-bata pa ako wala kabalo kung ano akon himo-on;

May ara ako na luyagan sa isa ka malayo na lugar;
Sa pwerte ka luyag ko sa iya kung kis-a wala ko kabalo kung ano obrahon ko daw indi ako mag andar;
Wala ko kabalo kung ako lang na luyag sa iya kag siya wala man ya sa akon;
Biskan gusto ko na buy-an ang luyag na akon gina dala gabalik man ako sa iya giyapon;

Ka ilinit na balatyagon nga daw ga kurog na corazon kag dughan;
Daw mahibi kung kis-a akon nga mga mata nga daw gal-um kag ga tubod na bagyo kag ulan;
Nga-a amu ini kung ma luyag-luyag ko haw kung maayo ang relasyon grabi ma hatag nga inspirasyon;
Kag kung buy-an ko na kag indi pag ibato ang sa sulod sang akon balatyagon daw delubyo ang dala kag distraksyon;

Paano ko ayhan mapa luyag sa akon ang na luyagan ko;
Tudlo-i ninyu man abi ako ga ayo ako sang sinsiro;
Okon buy-an ko na lang kag indi pag i-pilit sa iya ang kaugalingon ko;
Palihog please prangkaha na lang ako kung wala na ako pag-asa sa imo;

Ka balo man ako damo man mas responsabli nga maka palangga sa imo;
Hambali lang ko kung ano obrahon ko kay indi na ako mag sinabad sa imo;
Pero dako na salamat sa ti-on na gin bangon mo ako sa pag ka dasma nga gapa luya;
Biskan ano akon napanghimo na mga sala ara kaman giyapon naga uyat kag wala nag buya;

Pasensyahi lang akon mga tinaga kung ako daw wala sing huya;
Sa bagay kung sa mata sang mga tawo indi man ta bagay kay ikaw prinsesa ako ya kabalan na dukha;
Mabalik na man ako sulat sa ling-gwahi na hapos para sa imo ma intindihan;
Para ini sa babayi binibini sa malayo na lugar na akon na luyagan;

Not all letters at a post office are meant for everyone to read;
Not everyone in this world can make my heart and head gradually bleed;
For the woman who captured my frozen flaming heart;
From far away you are may you read this with your heart this annoying art;

If I bother you before let me do it once more;
I can't wield this feeling deep inside my core;
A woman whose 1st name starts and ends with A;
This part of this letter is for you, I'm expressing today;

Forgive me if I've been reckless and will be in my actions and words, I write and say;
The way I am now and before can you accept me I ask you in a sincere polite way;
I write this not because I'm angry or happy just trying to keep in touch;
You have made me your slave a prisoner you made me crazy in many good ways I can't say
too much;

I have nothing great to offer you to make you truly happy;
I know millions of others can love you more and you can be;
Honestly, it makes me jealous if you'll be in the arms of someone;
But I have no right to do that for in your life maybe I'm just no one;

If it is God's plan for you and me to be apart in heart be far away;
It's not God's fault or yours but mine cause many times both of you I have dismayed and maybe betrayed;
I have played the game called life and I have no cheat code to win it;
I have times I'm on the straight road and at times fall to a pit but still, I never quit;

Even a writer just can edit and at times unnecessary messages he can delete;
And a witty singer can sing passionately so bitter and at times so deliciously sweet;
You made my heart beat truly beat in a romantic sense;
And at times in your presence I feel intensely tense;

We live in a dense world full of amazing people;
But I wonder in love and madness for you I fall;
I understand and know what I need to do or my Father's/Creator's/God's call my duty to do;
But if I pour my life and my heart into you I don't ask you to do the same I don't want to control you;

Forgive me if I'm madly obsessively falling in love with you;
Correct me if I'm wrong honestly this feeling I have for you I have no clue;
All I know now about me and you without you I'm so blue;
I want to please you in every way at times I can no longer be at ease and be true;

Please tell me what I need to do to capture your heart;
Or just even give me a place there to be a part of, just even a tiny part;
If you can make me your friend honestly for me it's enough;
But if you ask my heart what it truly wants for me it will be rough;

I dream of a future for you and me to be a happy family;
But who I am in your life now I don't know I'm lost I can't see;
Just tell me sincerely if in your life I don't have a chance;
If even a small there is I could leap for joy and madly dance;

But I don't want to manipulate or control you I want you to be free;
To say and do what you want and need truly even if it's not me;
Don't worry I can take it gracefully if you reject me I'll move on;
But the blessings you gave me the hope I'll treasure it and never be gone;

Please don't think if my heart will fall into pieces I'll become a monster;
Don't worry about that God is watching me our Creator the one I call Father;
If I accept the good things in life is it not fair to accept also the little trials;
Sometimes it's also good to shed some tears and cry not every time just laugh and smiles;

I'll do everything within my capability to make this world a paradise;
But without the grace of our creator God, our common Father I'm just a foolish man not wise;
So don't worry to reject me I just want us to be free;
If only I own all the things in this world or a castle for you to be;

If that will make you truly happy how I wish I would be a king;
And make every people our family and we could share a meal a home have fun and you can sing;
I know it may sound crazy and impossible but who I am now I'm happy, a life of simplicity is simple;
One thing I remember my mother wrote a note on a book she gave me, it says always be humble;

I'm afraid to be as powerful and rich as the kings;
It's not a joke to have all that and the possibilities it brings;
One thing I know is that everything I have is temporary;
The things I have, my mind my body, talents, and everything within me;

Only by the test of time, we would know;
If we'll be blessed with old age we can still live and grow;
Forgive me if I did not sound so romantic;
At distant seas we are apart I'm not sure the whereabouts maybe the Pacific and Atlantic;

But deep inside my heart I only wish the best for everyone especially you;
If we're not meant to be for each other I'll accept it but please let us be true;
I write this part of the letter for the woman whose name starts and ends with A;
I wish the best for you and in my heart, you already have a place to stay;

I'll just end here for now but I'm not yet done;
I hope I can hear from you even if in your life maybe you want me gone;
I have nothing to offer you to truly genuinely make you happy;
But if you are already truly happy with your life I will be happy too it resonates with me;

Now, this part of the story is for everyone for a human being who has an open heart;
Can we welcome someone anyone maybe a stranger in a time so dark;
Can we replenish what is missing from someone unknown to us what they lack;
Or just ignore an unpleasant stranger in our hearts we put a block, chain it and lock;

If someone needs something to eat just to survive and be alive are we willing to give;
If a homeless hopeless stranger knocks on our door will we accept them where we live;
If someone or anyone truly essentially needs something a matter of life and death that degree of importance;
Will we give or share and sacrifice what we have even if it hurts or put a lock into our hearts and do nothing but glance;

If every open-hearted people in our world who don't want and need war will unite;
And strive extremely to heal not only our heads but also our planet and disobey those who commands us to do violent actions and senseless fight;
Will we give time or a chance a shot for that matter;
Or just go with the flow and do our day-to-day routine to obtain our bread and butter;

Is it possible for all of us just for a day or a week to have a leave like a worldwide collective vacation;
To stop and cease anything which is harming any living creature/being and let the planet breathe, maybe mother earth is already in a state of suffocation;
Or can we just sit somewhere and be still whatever you may call it prayer or meditation;
I don't know I'm just giving an idea but maybe anyone there somewhere has a better answer for an open-hearted being who is willing in listening and doing the solutions;

We can be open-hearted to listen and do what is truly needed;
I'm no genius I need everyone willing to share their solutions and answers, for now, we are alive but what can we do if we're already dead?
I've become who I am because of my relationship with our creator God or our common Father;
But before I encounter our Creator I knew him through someone in some stories or letters;

I don't know for everyone but in my life experience it was the man called Jesus Christ;
Who let me have a glimpse of the source of all creation which is unexplainably nice;
I do some methods or ways trying hard to follow that man's footsteps and maybe accidentally;
  I have tasted and touched the one called infinite;
If I'll put into words what I've experienced it will be indefinite;

Everything pleasingly beautiful that I have made I can't make any of it just by using my wit;
But for the wrong ways and decisions, I have chosen it was my own will I will not deny it or disown it;
I don't know and will not assume anything about anyone practicing being still;
But one thing I know is we are all created by the same unfathomable Being for me that is real;

In this lifetime of mine I have experienced indescribable things I need not say;
But I thank you our common Father the Creator of all for the chance to live even this very moment and all the nights and days;
By the way, I know people are confused and fight because of what they believe or their religion;
If a person has a sincere conviction on what they know or believe they will have a clear vision;

So if it's the end times we are living in now will it change the way we are because of fear;
And if it is not will we just do anything that pleases us even if we hurt and harm others who are dear;
I won't stop anyone to be fearless but please can we human beings be harmless;
I have no right to say this I know in my life I have hurt and harmed someone I'm that careless;

If only we could open our hearts and not give them a lock;
And fill which have empty and shower them with what they lack;
May it be physically, emotionally, spiritually, or psychologically on any aspect of a human being;
I know things seem so hard but if we have an open mind and heart dark skies and times will be brightly shining;

I know whomever we believe or know the one who Created us all will not abandon us;
For the gifts, we have like talents, knowledge, wisdom, and many more given by our Creator I still have faith in humanity and especially in our common Father God I trust;
I always remind myself in the vastness of creation I'm just a speck of dust;
Even that man of steel in a children's story has a weakness like steel eaten by rust;

So if it's a must to open and stretch our minds and hearts then put away those locks;
For the time is ticking for all of us we better spend it wisely and set our clocks;
Set aside or sacrifice anything that blocks us to reach a common goal;
Then if possible we all communicate, and cooperate for the common good of all;

I wish and dream we can all have an open mind and heart to lift one another;
This is a wish coming from an ordinary child-man who already lost his biological father and mother;
Will it be beautiful before we end our life's stories this world will be so much better;
And the next generation will no longer need to read this lengthy letter;
It's not hard to enter a house quietly
in the dark
when weary
and drunk
with beer cans
swinging in a bag
clunk, clunk, clunk,
and a takeaway box
awkwardly tucked under one arm
while teeth
clamp keys
on a ring
jingle, jingle-ling.
When you have to hold up the wall
in case it should fall
and the light switch
mysteriously
shifted further and further along.
And you can't escape the tune,
but forget the name of the song
something like
“la-de-la-la da-dum, dum ****”
It's not hard to enter a house quietly
in the dark
when you live alone,
But,
If you don't
others will soon bawl
shout
and moan
“Will yah, keep it down;
what time d'you call this?”
It's then you find yourself giggling
at a joke
just understood
...hisss—sss-sss s....sss....s.
memories of times long gone,
the mornings were a *****
Raj Arumugam Sep 2010
come animals
you have no rights;
what rights can you have?
when the Almighty Lord has said
you are but food for man
for man is given dominion over all things

come animals
you have no rights;
so come willingly
and with a broad smile and grin
to lay down your lives
for man’s potbellies;
come animals
with gratitude
for you are the Lord’s sweet and delicious creatures

come with glad hearts and a happy song
no: moo, moo, moo
no: baa, baa, baa…
no: **** a doodle doo
no: bow, wow, wow
no: oink, oink, oink
no: sss, sss, ssss
no: meow, meow, meow
but happily altogether now
you shall sing:
Merrily, merrily
we serve mankind
with a
hee, hee, hee
and a ha, ha, ha
Merrily, merrily
we lay our lives
so that man’s potbellies be filled
and the Lord’s will be done
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2016
allowing for a two part volume
of Proust's À la recherche du temps perdu...
is unforgiving... it's asking a meat-head
to read such a body like exploring a woman's...
a gay-man's psyche is pretty much a woman...
or what a woman thinks in secret,
gay men merely vocalise what a woman does
not say... and yes, that a with a diacritical
mark... that grave above the a? the à?
it works like a comma... à! a surprise kindred
an eureka that's not really original,
an: ah! and then you say the rest of the title...
iconic pause: in search of lost time...
          it took me about five minutes to figure
that one out... lost time, but occupied a space...
  and so much political vanity is consecrated
upon the reverse.. ineffective space:
thus gained time... for all that protests are worth.

i know i go on about this a lot, surprise surprise,
i'm actually engaging in systematisation...
once you enjoy writing as much as walking
you get to reach a systematisation,
     it's a painful process, i'd never do the editing process
of a Hemingway... write something: shoot some
camels and reindeer and go back and revise a piece
of writing: drink a *death in the afternoon
-
a shot of absinthe inside a champagne glug
or the modern: shot of Jägermeister inside a glass
of red bull... (yay-gay-mr.) -
                       or how do you make snakebite?
half a láger half a çíder - and a head of blackcurrant
squash... scoot meine good look.
  but diacritical marks are what punctuation marks
are... it's only that they've become elevated,
and unlike punctuation marks governing paragraphs
and sentences... they govern the words,
         they are syllable incision indicators...
  i mean: i don't revise something i've already written,
unless it's a spelling mistake... i just write
something new... it's sadistic in my mind's eye to
revise and revise a single effort of writing...
                i'd rather centralise a theme of the paradox
of re-, in the year 2018 i will still experience
the tetratempus - containing four seasons -
         and i will never return toward making a piece
of writing become a morbidly corrected statue...
     what's done is done, let us move toward another
circumstance of being able to acquire a new kind
of observation... i can't be a sadist in terms of also
being a perfectionist... i break a leg, i break a leg...
if i write a ****** poem, i'll write a ****** poem...
but i won't be bothered like human history has been
by preoccupying itself in forwarding the drama
on Golgotha Street...
    the newest addition to the vogue scene is a corset
paired with a waistcoat...
   the snooker championships are taking place,
and i says to my father: 'a bit like chess, ain't it?'
   'sure is', he replies, 'you have to think 3 moves ahead.'
and it is... a smart sport, actually the most intelligent
sport there is... ****** boring obviously,
unless you fake the boredom and think about angles
and triangles and Newton...
   and cover the game with such congestions of
pretending to hallucinate it all...
                or take to thinking about rebellious
Saturn spinning out of orbit and doing a Mike Tyson
to Jupiter...
          but it's very much like chess...
                   it's sporty chess... snooker is chess...
  and it definitely ain't pool...
         you could actually have a ******* on a snooker table...
while either doggy or missionary positioning on
the snooker table... so what are the odds?!
         but i'll tell you one thing... snooker beats golf...
i don't know why... but once colour televisions came into
existence: it made much more sense for both
spectator and commentator... and how dare you
not cling to the 20th century if you were born in it
to translate to the 21st androids how we experienced
an evolution of technology, that made much more sense
after what i just heard...
      so there's this woman in the U.S., and this is before
president-elect and whatnot...
  and she's 22, and it's all over vice news,
and she's scared, and she's a mother of a 1 year old...
    and then this picture emerges
(don't worry, it's not anything like playing the Sims
   and moving your Sim to play computer games
and seeing a wormhole, or the infinity mirror effect)...
and there's a scene when she's talking Donald Duck
to the child... there are no meaningful words being
said... merely sounds... onomatopoeias...
and yes... this makes perfectly good sense when
stressed as a cut-off capsule...
because Darwinism doesn't really provide much
history... Darwinism is a historical erasure:
the past 2000 years could have happened,
but not really...
  but it just fascinated me...
         when did we learn or who did we learn it from
given we were placed at so many different
plots of the globe and became convergent -
anyway - the woman is teaching the child
words via the onomatopoeia of a hoarse quacking
of a duck! i probably will not find an answer
(primarily because i'm not supposed to,
if i am to perpetuate what Aristotle taught, i.e.:
be wrong and continually circumstance being in awe,
given the mundanity that nonetheless
everything keeps repeating itself over and over again,
for sustenance, and you are not sustenance bound
as corrected by your language deficiency to
ever merge into an unconsciously organised module
that might also argue an ego) -
    but i wonder how difficult it must have been
to extract something beyond the minimalism of animals
that identifies a duck with a quack, a cow with a moo,
an serpent with a sss... a cat with a meow, a dog with a bark...
    i cannot conceive how difficult this explanation
will be... but given the timeframe, i'm more awe-stricken
by this than merely being awe-bound by the time-scale...
which becomes the least affordable option of being
struck by awe, because one becomes merely awe-bound
by it, and therefore apathetic towards such a time-scale.
       how did we suddenly extract an understanding
of an onomatopoeia to distinguish our own ontological
basis for making a sound by infusing a sound that
doesn't resemble us? when did the first ape bark like
a dog? but then again, looking at the canvas already
apparent to us... what was the point of such an adventure?
hippy culture says: monkey accidently ate a mushroom,
monkey suddenly was blown away and reasoned of
a higher purpose other than a tree and a coconut...
     mudvayne quotes the guy on l.d. 50...
what's the guys name... uggh! not Timothy Leary...
ah ****! Terence McKenna! that's it!
        am i high? nope... my respectability of argument
comes from the mystical properties of... whiskey.
hmm...      that rarely happens to people.
                   it's what's called being earthbound, or gravity
prone... sink like a skipping pebble across the lake...
          and like a tonne of lard.
             tomorrow i'll wake once more and still
think about how we encouraged the discovery of
onomatopoeia to teach our children the multiplicity of
sounds, and later deconstruct such a multiplicity to
create meaningful words that go beyond knock knock! jokes
and grunts and barking...
                     but i will never know the man who
created the fermentation process from potatoes to make
*****...
                or the guy who brewed the first pint...
or the guy that smoked the first marijuana bush ensemble
while clearing the land for a place to harvest wheat...
   all the fame that exists is simply scholastic...
  schoolboy fame... which is why so much attention
goes into becoming famous in school...
                        but still that woman teaching her child how
to speak by going down into the blobby-gurgling
  tongue of the toddler, stiffening it,
      and tightening the **** and bladder too...
  by talking Donald Duck to it...
                        i probably could have had a family myself...
but can you imagine someone writing this load of
******* and having a family? there wouldn't be any time!
           still (god, what a need to repeat!)
         how did we progress from saying ape-****?
surely if we started to imitate other animals they'd join us
in our need to usurp those ******* lions!
  lo and behold... we managed to pet dogs (so they were
in on it all along)... and cats (who came from Japan,
if **** sapiens came from Africa... cats came from Japan...
bonsai frocked and all) -
                            but you have to admit...
from what is written history, to what is history and
a gap in history going back to a similitude of form -
      you can write as much historical fiction as you want...
    and you'll never have to write a bestseller about
some centurion in the Roman Empire...
   or a quo vadis by Sienkiewicz (nobel prize winner)
for the depiction of emperor Nero...
                               ******* Sesame St. giggles...
still, the question beckons... if animals can behave in
an ultra-intuitive way as if fashioned by a telepathy...
then telepathy can only exist upon a very simple,
atomic, terse vocalisation of an identity...
   a dog barks... a man can bark too...
                                but we have completely lost our
intuitive talent (if it can be called that)...
          to have sacrificed intuition is to have created
cults or counter-intuitive hierarchies...
  so a 1000 blah blahs later i still prefer to write what
i like... than write what people "might" understand
and talk to a girl about...
                                     a bit like a woman discovering
you faked writing a poem 20 years into a marriage...
                  obviously the setbacks to boot...
                            dyslexia is an optical dimension...
no one dyslexic says a word they don't understand
a meaning of... dyslexia seemingly came from
finally having enshrined the "secret" to the monopoly
of writing sounds...
                          nonetheless... at the end of the day...
it's just too much history... there's too much of it...
            there was never going to be a world
where carpe diem ruled it...
                               it was a question how we clung to
certain things, within a framework of
                                             salmon dye omni:
sure sure... piglet pink and innocent for the rest
of our lives... once Darwinism pointed at the ape,
and once physicists dropped the bomb and the bang...
no day has had any significance at all...
   + the 24h news channels...           snuggle up to a hog
             and say: fog over Heathrow... all flights are grounded.
Steven Martin Feb 2014
Sss
Slowly proceeding toward substantial studying
Currently satiating sorrow and sadness with scores of sullen sonnets...
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2017
english humour?
       they call it black...
             black as in: i 'aven the foggiest...
sure... it's witty, but up to
the point where slapstick origins
do a dodo and ******* into nothing
while at the same time inviting canned laughter...
               it's black humour they say:
what... you mean bile?
                  now ask a pole about
humour... and he'll be like:
         i'm flying a kite over auschwitz...
i can't believe it's two things at once:
   a "tourist" attraction for some...
                an islamic deterrent, for others.
sure... we can fire up the ovens once more...
             it'll be like that scene in the hobbit
where a few dwarfs started to imbue
life into the abandoned mine of the lonely mountain...
see... that's the thing with english humour,
in that it's black... in that it's too intelligent,
which makes a lunatic laughing for no
perceptible reason...
            enigma jokes... you know the kind...
       but a comedy that forgets itself, having
origins in a schadenfreude... well, it becomes
desperate... it's gagging for an auxiliary settlement
to be staged in the first place:
  canned laughter, enforced laughter,
                  the tyrannical face of western humour:
***** you better laugh! or i swear i'll do
      sum-fin                    nah      sss    tee... tea...
                ty           ti      taikwondo,   taekwondo?
eh?
                   this is starting to look, very much
like kabbalah for the party kids...
                 let's levitate an inch above the alphabet
and **** around with syllables...
         chi       chai                 china       chichen itza
chicken eats ya                 oh you... yes you.
       that's the thing though:
   translate humour from poland into english...
                             it's night... and it's foggy...
             and there's no moon...
                         or crescent... of that northern
star that sometimes aligns itself
        when there's a crescent and you think:
turkey!            no! no!                         pakistan!
                           pompous bozos...
     but this magazine is funny...
   first they write an article that's sorta related to
serge gainsbourg - and then onto
                the doctor who tweaks the faces
      of millennials
-
                and i'm thinking: did i suddenly get something
wrong?
            what a horrid piece...
                   it's journalism, for sure...
   but i'm thinking: the stepford wives...
                  austin powers: fem-bots...
                                ex_machina robot *** slaves...
no, nothing else...
              let's just say i'd sooner find a £110 an hour
bulgar ******* in her 40s more desirable
          than these women think they'll become...
                odd, isn't it?
                             so you pay ten quid to enter
the brothel... and there they are: sitting pretty
                               and all the more intimidating...
a £110 an hour beauty...
                and then this drops into my lap...
an article about my generation bracket doing
  all this fancy **** with bough-toxicity that leads
neither to the roots, nor to the drowning-man's
arms of branches trying to cuddle or at least
                          allow birds to perch on them...
  now i'm really going to have fun with this...
                  pinch of malice, dab of a rotting corpse
of a fox... hey presto! you're in essex,
                                   with the cliche of oranges.  
                        poo poo pout! ooh!      
                              **** underwear or a diaper?        
as random as you can get...
                           but you know what this boils
down to? obviously on a serious note...
    it's whether you care for darwinism or
etymology more.
                         i'm pretty sure the monkey and
the man will lead        (led) - leash - huh? -
           lee lee....                    le!             ole!
(acute e missing, couldn't be bothered inserting it) -
     it's almost like bypassing the whole genus
concept... of family traditions...
   e.g. the family ****.... the tradition? sapiens!
  i wish that was true...
                            how about proto erectus?
or    mono erectus?
                              darwinism has become such a yawn
after it became a form of cultural indoctrination...
    honestly... i rather go to a zoo and watch
a monkey scratch it's ***... sniff it's hand
and then scratch it's head...
                   so yeah... etymology...
     i just spent the afternoon shooting words out
of my gob, going: well... that's funny...
          a dog with three legs, go!
       w                ł
  
                          v                ­        there...
    you'll get v'eh (fff'uckers!) joke łen sum' fin
                     really 'appens...
             and ven... you'll be like:  please me sir...
         m'ah  łoman -            went into labour...
        plus there's no concept of v in polish (st. paul
on a leash) -
                      there's w = v
               there's  ł = w
                                                       and there's u.
back to the botox beauties...
                                          at £110 an hour?
these bulgar women? (they're not *** slaves
if they get paid) -
                               what's the difference?
   they're mandible...
                              like play-dough...
                                like clay... you can mould them
into an ******... these instagram perfectionists?
         why would i want to **** a porcelain girl?
i'd be scared to **** her thinking i might break her...
   but back to quasi-etymology, that's quasi
for a bilingual fascination...
                   winda (v) = lift... so no, it's not windy
        when govinda yawns... qui?
     wróbel (v) = sparrow...
                      or...          in the russian currency...
     hold a sparrow in your hand? you're... a ******* millionaire!
               tulipan = tulip
                        tu (here) is where you impress your lips -
    and that is an actual conjunction, i.e. tu -
                                       róża = rose
         hmm... maczuga! maczuga = bludgeon...
      wω                             buttocks, with a missing H:
                               or wow or: woah!
        curve 'ere v(u)               ******* sharpenings 'ere ω(w).
honestly, i still think that there's been a diacritical
****... two proofs:                 i          and             j.
         that's ****... it's presupposing that ι (ιota)
                            needs a diacritical mark hanging over
it, a bit like damocles' sword....
        just hanging above it on a single hair of
a horse's mane... i'm guessing it's also called:
                                                      pre­cursor of the violin.
but if you really want to pronounce an acute z (ź) -
      you'll have to use a syllable from the word euthanasia.
oddly enough, when in st. petersburg
   i didn't spot a single mcdonalds...
                       it's like this odd feeling that you're
in a chiral environment, being used to seeing this
  outpost in little england...
                   and they don't really drink coca cola either...
they drink this carbohydrate drink called квас (kvas -
    western slavic?                    acid) -
           and eat pancakes with orange caviar...
black caviar? that's for the opera people who
  nibble on it on canapés... orange caviar is
                for the no nonsense people.
raingirlpoet Dec 2014
i-iii-i
i-i-iii can't
let me catch my breath
and get back to you

she whispered a secret into my hair
ruffled it like she does
my skin burned beneath her touch
ccc-c-can you not?

sshhhh she said
it's okay
no it's not
if i could only say the words

sss--sst--
what was that, honey?
ss--ssto*
you're a snake?*
no

stop.
SamBee Jan 2013
I find myself hidden beneath the moss infested trees of the forest that chatters
Noisily in the air behind my house.
Sunlight mockingly sings on my legs:
Dances between my bloating, crooked knuckles.
I am compelled by its glow,
As well as a low rumble that quakes my whole body with hunger,
To suddenly grasp at its illumination.
I shall catch the very speed of light,
Pop it on my tongue
And swallow its jellied consistency:
Fleshy fruited sweetness
Down my gullet,
Allowing it to marinate in the oceans of acids of my gut
Festering in the tender walls
Of the chambers of my stomach,
Fighting against decay and erosion -

Causing my brow to sweat,
My hands to tremble
Mmm-my ss
sss peech to stut-
tt t
t
er
A-and my belly to ache with agony,
Oh, this agony!
Throbbing beneath the seams, stitches,
Threads of my clothing
Drawing blood away from my heart
Toward my stomach, pulsing and pumping
Pulsing and pumping -

I feel as if I have reached my limit:
B e  n
-----  d
      |  i
      | n
     |g
    | o
     | v
   | e
    | r,
                  \  Re
        g   \         \      c
         n  \        /   o
       i    _   /i
      l
in defense
Cringing and crinkling my eyes
Scrunching my nose
Lips pursed in vile disgust
Begging, pleading for a speck * of relief;
For an ailment for this hideous torment!

I feel as if I may perish on this very spot
Below the trees that birthed this demonic,
Deceivingly attractive sphere of heat
That I so daringly consumed.

I feel it now,
Inching its way up the tunnels,
Reaching the depths of my throat,
Rolling its way past my molars.
My jaw feels as if it may erupt from this
Ignited stick of dynamite that is lodge under my tongue.
My eyes are tearing-
My claws tearing-
My face sneering-
My moth searing-
AHHHHH!

And who knew something once claimed so divine,
So pure
Could cause such a build up of anger
And distressful disease in the pit of my being?
And I blame it all on you.
Ahhh, love. Hahaha
Mohd Arshad Apr 2015
Flies the clock, so fluffy;
The silvery droplets trickle,
And cuckoos play tunes!
Notes (optional)
writerReader Jan 2015
SsS
slightly
sobbing
  silently
Ron Sanders Jan 2020
I AM THE WEDGE

O blackguard or fellow. Arise!
Nay.
Bridge that light that bridges all.
Nay! Peace…
What peace!
In sleep’s blue rictus, borne naked, supine—I am…roused.
Opine!
I exhort ye:  know thy fine.
Be bold or benign, be ****** or divine.
But know thy fine.
Exhort? Harbinger:  we are One!
Ye are cloven! And these be your bridges:
Worms.
Sss!
Maggots.
Sss!
Bigots, charlatans, sycophants, thieves…
Ignominious leeches all!
Ssssss! Ssssss! Ssssss!
Yes, yes, yes—ye art ethos without sinew,
Eloquence without spine, witting captives of World’s design.
Ye are carnal, mundane:  ye are sane, sane, sane—
Sane beyond redemption, sane beyond profane!
Prithee peep, prostrate. Now behold:  ye are Mine.
O piercer of nights!
I am he.
O dasher of dreams!
I am he.
Truther! Augur!
I am, I am.
I am all ye allege.
Be still!
Nay. I am the wedge.
And ye shall labor and love with accountability!
Ye who menace the frail shall burn.
Sss!
Ye who lie with same shall burn.
Sssss!
Ye thick, arrogant, groping,
Proliferating plumes of flesh…
All conformists shall burn! And burn and burn
And burn afresh. Within thine own World, where Virtue rots—
Miscarried, misnamed, unrealized, unborn—Nay!
Do not cosset possessions, nor flatter the beast!
They are myth, they are illusion. They are soulless.
It is not death…it is soullessness I scorn.
O be caring. O be kind.
That one egg might bind, all sons must bleed.
Womb and grave lie equidistant.
******, madness, sorrow, sickness, are seed.
And I am fecund.
O Life!
Hypocrites.
Ah Love!
Hypocrites!
Peace! Peace!
Hypocrites all! Blind as cadavers are ye,
Running in lockstep, sniffing thy self-serving,
Snuffling peers’ rears; disdaining the night,
Succumbing to light. And I? I?
I am Neutral. I am Gray.
Then name thy vein.
I am he who severs One; soldier’s specter, specter’s son.
Of faith and compassion mine fibers art wrung.
Ye living die a thousand deaths, yet remain in arrears.
Let thy live corpses lie a low while longer.
Sweet coma, black drug—
Beware thy Pale Master’s tongue!
Blasphemer! Vigilante!
Vengeance is poetry. Vigilance is mine.
I am he who doth sunder, to center from edge.
Thou art…Comeuppance!
I am the wedge.
And this blade ye ride be thine own design!
O Sunlight save us!
Save? To cling to the light, heaping woe upon woe,
Forever hurtling downward, smashed outright, yet still crawling?
Broken beggars bleeding, drowning heartless, gutless…
To, on dying’s cue, lift thy shattered fingers in brine
And be born anew?
Assassin, then!
Thy logic is *******. Have the greatness to be mute,
Suffering seaward, to that brave expanse where all salts art borne.
But we—
Unwitting? Never be!
The same tide shall return for ye:
Aweigh, forlorn, into the ravening
Tempest torn; a million billion testaments—
Defrauder!
Am I? Consider the beast:  electric pastors preaching,
Merchants plump, in line, beseeching.
Still ye puppets slumber, too rife to number,
Too fay to vie; strutting for thy hollow “Maker’s” eye.
Whirling, jumping, twirling, pumping;
******* random shapes and shadows,
Prancing in tandem, dancing solely to die.
Nay. I am the wedge, both hawk and dove;
Neither This nor That, neither Either nor Each.
Descending, I rise, thy facade to breach,
Mine soul well-bled of light’s lovely lies.
To the vortex, then! From one whose essence
Waives assimilation.
No grace! No peace shall ye posers reap!
Lash thine ears, thine eyes—Run, lemmings! Leap!
Preen thy prettified husks, let Inspiration go!
Or rip out thy roots and…Grow!
Sacrilege! Make public thy shame!
Shame? Shame? Ah…Ash, conceive us!
Brief spirit cede, sweet Flame relieve us,
Sunlight leave us lie.
May ye ****** and ye wicked
Fall to thy knees and cry.
Through gates of naught I lead ye,
Bleak day, bright night, precede ye.
Butcher!
There is black! And there is white!
Between extremes lies only gray.
Nay!
Said stain bleeds left and right:  less black, less white,
On that stage too deep to fathom,
One dapple distant, one ripple wide.
Outrageous!
’Twixt solace and horror,’tween torment and balm,
There ye will find me, in rages of calm.
The wise man hath his discipline, the lunatic his ledge.
And I? I am he who doth sever, I am he who doth cleave.
I am the wedge.




(Sorry about the missing italics and indents. I don't run this site.)

Copyright 2019
contact Ron Sanders at:

ronsandersartofprose(at)yahoo(dot)com
kereso Mar 2011
ee eee
ee ee eee
t tttt tt
tt taa.

aa aaa
ai ii ii i
i inn nn n
nn n oo.

oo o oo
ssss sss
rr rrr rr
lll ld.

dd dh h
h hcc cu u
u mm mf fp
pyy gg.

w v b.
Ted Scheck Apr 2014
Rivers dry up, except
The Mississippi.
If/When
That particular long and wide
And fat and deep
Body of Wa-Wa
Completely dries up,
The World, as SK
Was fond of saying of
Roland of  Gilead and the
Shadowed Spire,
"Has moved on."

Monstrous
Glaciers partied hard inda
MIDWEST!
For, like, endless freezing
Nights and equally
Chill-laxing daze,
Man! Man? Dude!
Dudes? Little dudes
With spears takin' on
The Mammoths! No
WAY!
Way.
They'll not outlive and
OutLAST US, My
Frozen Bros!

(But we had fire, the roasting
Kind and the hot burning
Coals within our spirit,
Fire to perpetuate our
Species through endlessly
Cold nights and days)

Whoo-Hooo!
Dude! You plowed
DEEP last night, Bro!
What's that stuff on yer
Brow. Sweat?
Hey is it me or is it
Hot in here?
Dudes? We're like
SMALLER

Irregardless, or
Re, the You SSS of
A has a large dent
In its midsection.
Because those partying
Glaciers were forced back
Into polar hiding, shedding
Great earthen chunks of their
Fatty selves, carving and
Slashing
The most fertile watershed
In the country.

Their ageless and
Timeless enemy, that
Bright Yellow Orb,
Opened its great
Cyclopean eye, and
Focused, yet again,
Blessed rays of light
Heat, and life.

The melting...
Water lying on the ground,
Unsure? How about we start a
Pool? I bet it'll pay
Off to flow on not-flat ground, the
Pool collapses and begins flowing
With purpose, streaming
Together as a larger
Body of water:
The Miss
'Sippi.

Any number of
Numberless great and lesser
Lakes up North
Decided to be hole-
Y. Gravity
Did the rest.
Mohd Arshad Dec 2014
Always trust your confidence;
If you left it,
You are the most alone everywhere!
Notes (optional)
Obadiah Grey Apr 2010
A slice o’ pie

ya cut me a slice 'o yer liljeeezus pie,
a religious high, - "oh my oh my,"
ya pour me jug, o' yer godly whine,
inebriation fer the disinclined,
ya sugar it, with sweet salvation
roast me 'bout my masurbation,
cream it off with liberation --
all ya needs my soul donation,
but I'll not eat yer pie - yer religious lie,
'bout some meta -- weelllll -- sss-super guy,

Alan nettleton.
Brycical Apr 2012
You remind me of the living,
breathing.....  
    (  (  (s t r u g g l e)  )   )
within my mind constantly.

I can relate to your questions
and fears, outcasts' s ' sss tearss' s''s'' ' '

But there is a light,
oh man,
there is a light
so bright that will release so much energy
into this universe one day we may find ourselves
in a similar utopia. I promise you
it's there, inside you.

The answers are out there,
you're very close.
Much closer than I was at your age.

Simply believe in yourself......
Yours Truly,
~The Bryce Post
TreadingWater Jan 2016
be _ ginnings arethebest
...the spinning swell of joy. in. your. chest.
the hours con((sum))ed
by thoughts,...she/ and /you

pinS. Sss and g _ lass
workingupto a 》》kiss
reading ev\er\y mo ve me n.  t
dizzy in-the-bliss

The plung@ing thro>>ugh
...places so Un//shown
Un _ sure Un _ seen
Un ^^^^imaginable  Un~ known

and you knot your. whole. existence;
in an
        ti
          ci
             pa
                    ........tion of  _  her _  lips
Fingers slow》ly.  edg》ing closer
press. Your. thumbs. Into. her. _  _  _  hips

You'd/say/anything to see¡ that¡ smile¡
...how; her laugh can-make-your-day
And her e y e s will make you w^o^n^d^e^r
If you'll
....everseeanother c o l o r.......a/gain
TreadingWater Aug 2016
how i wish you
would{n't} call
your voice
》shoves 》me 《back《
livingroom\ _waltzes\ _ _
[ed> ray > amos]
~singing ~our ~songs
Tuesday ○pancakes○
&you;
inthosetiiiiIiiiinyshorts
Sundays _ trippin' _ in _ the _ sand
waves&clouds;
snuggledupintowels
cho/k/ing°°
on° laughs° as
umbrellas wisSsk byyyyyyyyyyy
all. that. slow. lovin.
<inourcozysheets>
& your breath [onme] was
all. i. could. ever.
need.
it | was | just |
a moment ago
i swear;
when-you-call
[mydarlingsweetestlove]
it's {no} hellllllll - p
At. All.
Xy
TreadingWater Dec 2015
my
LipPps

On.your.

LipPps
and

d e
...lic
...i
o...
U... S. sss. sss
Circa 1994 Jul 2017
I’m looking at your mouth
you’re looking at me,
my fingers curled around the blunt your plug has graded as a “pearl”
we’re passing notes with her eyes and
you’re playing it cool, that is until your eyebrows give you away – springing up towards your skull.
I find an excuse to say “****”
so you’re thinking of mine as I push wet fruit between my lips, still hot from the smoldering
I sense the very moment everyone else in the room catches onto our game.
lowering my gaze as a hit goes straight to my face
the smoke clears
my fingers linger
dangling the roach over your water glass
I let it fall
Ash hisses as if to whisper
“it’sss cassshh.”
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2017
SSS
no, this isn't exactly a self-appreciative
sentiment to provoke
a need to prescirbe a compliment
that encompasses the uno...
              but appealing to a younger
audience, esp. of the opposite ***
is like asking a male cat
                   to **** akin to a male dog -
god i love the bear-trap of inquisition
leaning toward the desire to find me
self-loathing, or self-depreciative -
or in that narcissus-pose:
fathomable and worth the critique...
but hey, when was the last time you
asked for a compliment,
without giving yourself a chance to
give one yourself?
                  once upon a time,
drunk,
       you wrote something that became
a surprise...
  what you later did was the most
uninhibited take on things...
                        but you know, i was
trying to suggest an ulterior motive...
and the motivations?
    slacking in fakes, wooing, workaholic;
never the ambitious alcoholic
     intelligentsia ***** whipped
                  wet-coal sucker asking
for a turbo chewing gum:
mention the ottomans one more *******
time, and i swear that lunar cycle
will soon turn into a scythe, sickle,
                               and a scimitar!
Mr Xelle Oct 2018
SSS
I left my heart in my chest,
I left words behind my cheeks.
Cause sometimes it’s better left unsaid,
And to say something you don’t always have to speak.

I don’t think I’m focus on my dreams
Cause  I’m to busy trying to find sleep.
Chasing it so much these days It’s like morning has found me.

Rest young one
Rest for everything that’s for you you will see
Dead ends turn to lessons and your  lessons fight for truth.
Truth is something that we all need cause lies can make a person you knew become as nothing but a issue
Mohd Arshad Apr 2019
War might destroy bodies
But the spirit and desire of living
Is immortal
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2016
it's a story of girl meets boy,
who's reading milan kundera's
the unbearable lightness of being,
girl falls in love,
boy laments this falling in love
with a wish to be dead,
girl ***** the boy's high-school friend
and asks the friend to ****
the boy in a cunning and sophisticated way,
the ****** fails,
boy lives on,
picks up a girl in a park drinking beer,
seduces her for a **** when she forgets
miles davis' kind of blue,
and listening to michael greilsammer's
הוריי שלי (https://goo.gl/DZlekQ)
gives sway, they ****,
celibacy of the boy
abolished, more fingers on
the hand than ***** for 8 years counting,
walking home in the cold
night the girl from the park
drowns in the boy's jacket, in terms
of fraction three fifths his size;
concerning title? i don't know where
to cut-in or cut-off from he (heh), shin (sheen),
or any other hebrew letter is,
for if in the case of vav (ו)
the breath is in ***** of the sound
where is the incision for a phonetic unit
of speech to begin or end, akin to greek alpha
and omega, so too with the hebrew examples
ש (shin, not s) and ל (lamed, el or la ahmed)?
i.e. you say omega, but only utter o,
you say alpha but only utter a,
beta but on b etc.
so when giving nouns to units of sounds,
expanding a into alpha aleph, d into delta daleth,
b into beta and beth... how then uncouple
the unit of sound from the noun and couple
it into a word that deviates from noun?
we can sit all day musing this...
the existential philosophers philosophising
with the syllables ego... and i with snoring snorkelling
(zzz)... if ever the serpent slept (sss sizing up
a psst) for man awake then the serpent endeavours
his chance to sleep, brought on by digestion.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2018
pierdole, jade do Turka, bo inaczej ni-ma rady: pospolicie, czyli na pszysięge: klnąć! nad to:  ścisk ‘zora, o! tyle! gleba!  ścisk - tym ‘zorem siekać, i u-ci-sss-kać! no to dopić: pod ten brak  šatana - tego Ukrainskiego atamana - brak mu ręki - bo na ścisk - jak to mówie: cisza - szmer i śmiech! a to wiadomo czemu tak auto-matem iota ma główke - czemu nie ćιsza, jeno cisza? a no, dla tego! ja nie prosie by tak prosić na gotowe! a tu wysłane! cygan z dywanem perskim, a i tak nie wygoda! bo czemu kropka nad ι‘otą? a bo sie czyta Spinoze i sie pyta: nad literami grawituje tym pytaniem. - to też znaczy: poza lewą nie wie co prawa ręka robi - bo to oczy czytem jedno, a zór lepi drugie - kto by domyślił sie inno turkie ğ to jak ‘glika ha, ha gag - ab surd! grav’ niet kā’ron! bo i tak: śmierć metafizyki jest nowo-narodzonym szczylem (ščylem) ortografii - czyli dwa razy po krótkie i - jakby jota - głucho puste widzi-mi-sie (brakujący ogon, czytem: diabł ma rogi - a zatem: pytń  o ‘gon... jom ci pszepisze Ajrysza Finnegans Wake, tym bogatszy, a przy tym powiem: pierwsza cegła pod ten mur: al-buraq - czyli ten burak - czyli, die rotebeetemauer - jebaniec poniemiecki, jeszcze mu mało pożyczonych słowików... cirp ci kuźwa dam’nom, bedzie bi-da! bi-da! kozmopolitan tylko górali i szkocki akcent bawi na lublu... to cie kurwa zabawi, prędzej dziób pingwina skryje sie w moim łokciu, jak i dąb na tle mojej dłoni! pije, pali, konia wali... w imie ojca i syna, i duchownictwa szarańczy. post / pre scriptum: wolno myślący człowiek nie ma teorii ego, jeno mape, nie algebre o ten niedosyt znaka X - dawym imie - dycha! co pincet znaczeń, dycha! nie nie, aby podpis analfabety - tzn. X i ego, ** i superego, *** i id - tzn. to tamto, owanto. wu czy u - czy wiem i nie wiem, czy: kiedy piszesz i wydalasz cieć klaustrofobii - czyli: chłopie nie pisz jak plotnik fobii jesteś - ad abstractum - od nowa: Zyd na Gestapo - pewnikiem nie żaden: Brzeczyszczykiewicz - schusza - jakby odwrót: syty - szyschkami - šon - ko-kurwa-konery! jebudjed; budujem? da da... ja ni kocham tybi ty ni koi me. a to co? działa NA-WA-RO-NE-SO-LA-TI-DO. ponownie - sprość: ğnome - ğnostic - cisza nad gje.*

i to prawda,
   ta Grecja...
       kołyska zachodniej
cywilizacji -
   tzn. bahory,
      młode gówna:
   kakaшki -
lecz! Virgil i co Turek dobrze
wie... Grecja? nuda
i szambo murmur
w Edenie pirackim zwanym
Loon-dyn...
       bo ci powiem co ci powiem
a ci powiem jak Zagłoba -
   tym bardziej kochać
jak czerni syn w pieśń nad góry ‘niem:
   Bo-***! mój to ulubieniec.
           pisz wiersz ‘ciupki -
maciupki paniczku -
   pisz wiersz po każdej
książce...
              a co w Polsce?
meandry uczuć!
   tak, tak, z babcią ci powiem
nie o Greckiej piekności -
powiem ci o Turkeckiej -
    - co, za... SIKSA!
- i sam bym głowe w ogniste dupsko
diabła wsadził po modłach przed
ołtarzem nie jednej iskry Aten
                          blednącej -
   w tamtą strone jedzie w czern
ubrana żałobą piękna -
w pół kroi sie Ukraina i Grecja...
a tam, tam w post scriptum
Byzantina - siedzi wicher serca
cerkiew i meczet cukrzynka -
martwe to morze, morze,
martwe, lecz nie sól inno cukrem
lśniące błoto, jakby
   z Szanghaju *** świnski -
   córa dla starego i młodego -
Sühan - Sühan - Sühan Tuğba -
     po nią znów 100,000 łajb płynie -
dawna Troja -
  bo ci powiem co ci powiem -
     Turk nie Muzułman -
po Alim drugi - godny sfat Pers'a -
bo jak nie - Turk u progu Europy -
nawet i ja na podziw przed
    obchodem Kaab'y siedem razy
motłochu wart ogląd szkarabu -
i ten słodki adhan -
           bo dla szczoła śpiwać to
na marnie -
     boli też pruch po tych starych
bakach pośmiewiska papistwa...
   jebana kurwa mać w koło to samo -
nie wiem jak, ale
    wolałbym zdradzić chrzest
niż go przyjąć -
           ponownie -
ale jeno pod chorągwięm Turka -
jako janczar -
         chociaż tam jest: śpiew!
a nie, dzwon, dzwon w głąb 'pusciany!
czy też krokiem: kra kra krasnoludy!
fu!
     gorzkość i brzydota!
          mówie! Turek po łacinie
zacina? zacina - alfa-kurwa-becik
po jakiemu? nie po Ł'cinie
godnym Lwowa?
           z Turkiem moge, bo sie
chce, on i tak już lizał Bałkan
   i prawie zawstydził Wiedeń!
    ale to ciwilizowany Pan,
         bo umnie ubrać i nawet
pozwoli wypiç kiedy kości wychodzą
z ciała ogrzać cień!
     o tyle lepszy -
jaki przy Turku z Troją w ręku
i przy Perskim stygnięciu jest
ten prostak Arab...
     a jak im sie skończy czarny glut
to będa eksportować pioch!
    już wiem gdzie,
         na plaże Albionu!
             i tyle powiem -
   o Turka warto byłoby zdradzić -
bo skąd inne, piękniejsze od
  Greczynek niż ciup-ciup pijące
         wróbelki z nad Bosforu?
   Turek drugi Ali i trzeci podział
Izlamu - bo wkręt Ł'ciny -
             i tym też -
               sfoboda -
                 tym też dawny Byzan -
i Troja - i co jak nie Rzym -
        ostatni kalif -
                    i tym Arab w świecie
jak Żyd -
          ale o tym mniej od Żyda -
bo to bogacz na wielblądzie który
nie tylko nie może sie zmieścić przez
oko igły, a co też nie może
zmieścić sie w swe portki!
Mike Adam Apr 2016
Out of the blackness
milky-white eminence rises
omphalos umbilus of the world
dripping venom and solace
in equal doses

Is not creation myth
of sunrise or moondance
****** charge of being
connection of ether
asserted from nothing

Uncoiled sss thick body
glowing colour grey
black edged scales
vast hood of metallic
green lozenge flanked
by blind yellow flash

Out of blackness the
milky rainbowed cobra
source of destruction
of chaos of growth
KorbydAngyle Jul 2020
Word of the 'SSSSS'
Austere as yeast in formidable winter snow,
tosssed from sssunken cobbled English shack, struts
       tied by ample legged wires to housess of bare boness
            and break neck...  fairytalessss ...
"void are the prohibitssss now" said the sssanake
   and full crucible of wieght dashes  splinters of
leads and copper wispsss that only the dark can sssseee
and knows the laws of the takesssss
          Scythes dances and ssysstemss  a xylophone void
                               introverted frail call to step by sstep by
                                                        ssstep pounding ssstep!
         The feeble minded prey acquires my touch feel
      and wanton disgracesessss "I shall **** yee sss my
little unchained peachy mutton chop!" though jabs
saliva ringing the ground bury blood before
and after such was known, so ssory..
the simple Sandra D didn't
       know to walk by my tree and
        the night of the sssnake!
     And Eve took the first bite of the apple but ultimately
         what was learned?... A vat turning vapid or strains of
                Demonthankyig ancient webs spun silken worm
                     negligees no easier than supple thoughts betray
                            they burn and singe the fire is a coy thunderous
     lightening strike on the weaning little break in the toes
of light that step foot here... "ahhh that's better" said I
the snake no more lisp in my words?! but the constricts
      uh.. uhh.. constructs of my mind are
         still absurdsssss... hmm...
      "astress astresses.. no *****!the assertions!"...
    ...so easily so aesthetically theres she... is austere
with no simple selecting for the stake, for sake of sectioning  ssscertain.. Aus! So once holy
thunder beguiled thee, the intrepid
self now begotten by florid visions
of the dire, meal left on the
     pantry the continental shelf
        grown of breezzy sss and
            wave ssss and land ssss
                and'I'mssss able as
                 transcendentalist
                        sincerity.
       So it shall be this beauty did not pass but fed me!
                  And the equivalence of higher learning didst
                    so take the fire from the girth of mirth revived by
                     the thought I might be a flight of fancy of wits rather
                  than feckless for and feather brained for no reason but
                 to feed on the eventuality that governs all nature
          respectively...  survival of the ssssneakiesst... so you see
    were it not for the bit of you dear humans
         in me then the sworn enemy of the eternal
            staunch stalwart support haven of godly lifestyle
                might soon catapult its way down in a spiral of death
                     almost as if a mating eagle had found fortune and
                       purpose in it and off with thought and reverie so
                            soon as Satan had spoken a word! See how
                                  important thisss meal
                                         isss to me?!
well edit with an 'S' attempt I don't know if I'm supposed to not repost after an edit however this time if not i'll make an exsssception
KorbydAngyle Jul 2020
Austere as yeast in formidable winter snow,
tosssed from sssunken cobbled English shack, struts
       tied by ample legged wires to housess of bare boness
            and break neck...  fairytalessss ...
"void are the prohibitssss now" said the sssanake
   and full crucible of wieght dashes  splinters of
leads and copper wispsss that only the dark can sssseee
and knows the laws of the takesssss
          Scythes dances and ssysstemss  a xylophone void
                               introverted frail call to step by sstep by
                                                        ssstep pounding ssstep!
         The feeble minded prey acquires my touch feel
      and wanton disgracesessss "I shall **** yee sss my
little unchained peachy mutton chop!" though jabs
saliva ringing the ground bury blood before
and after such was known, so ssory..
the simple Sandra D didn't
       know to walk by my tree and
        the night of the sssnake!
     And Eve took the first bite of the apple but ultimately
         what was learned?... A vat turning vapid or strains of
                Demonthankyig ancient webs spun silken worm
                     negligees no easier than supple thoughts betray
                            they burn and singe the fire is a coy thunderous
     lightening strike on the weaning little break in the toes
of light that step foot here... "ahhh that's better" said I
the snake no more lisp in my words?! but the constricts
      uh.. uhh.. constructs of my mind are
         still absurdsssss... hmm...
      "astress astresses.. no *****!the assertions!"...
    ...so easily so aesthetically theres she... is austere
with no simple selecting for the stake, for sake of sectioning  ssscertain.. Aus! So once holy
thunder beguiled thee, the intrepid
self now begotten by florid visions
of the dire, meal left on the
     pantry the continental shelf
        grown of breezzy sss and
            wave ssss and land ssss
                and'I'mssss able as
                 transcendentalist
                        sincerity.
       So it shall be this beauty did not pass but fed me!
                  And the equivalence of higher learning didst
                    so take the fire from the girth of mirth revived by
                     the thought I might be a flight of fancy of wits rather
                  than feckless for and feather brained for no reason but
                 to feed on the eventuality that governs all nature
          respectively...  survival of the ssssneakiesst... so you see
    were it not for the bit of you dear humans
         in me then the sworn enemy of the eternal
            staunch stalwart support haven of godly lifestyle
                might soon catapult its way down in a spiral of death
                     almost as if a mating eagle had found fortune and
                       purpose in it and off with thought and reverie so
                            soon as Satan had spoken a word! See how
                                  important thisss meal
                                         isss to me?!
well edit with an 'S' attempt
Paige Jun 2014
If I
didn't write
poetry,
I would
l
o
     sss
e
e

my
m i n d ..

— The End —