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This story is called death of a superhero.

We see the superhero flying at full speed after a getaway vehicle.  A group of armed men just robbed over one million dollars in cash from the bank and are now speeding through the city.  He darts back and forth to dodge the shower of bullets flying at him from the car, which was preventing him from getting any closer.

"I can't let these crooks get away," he grunted to himself as he curved back and forth through the air.

Suddenly he was blind sighted by a large black object coming from the car.  It was a high powered electric tazer.  It hit him in the side and his muscles locked up, he stopped mid air and went crashing down and smacked and bounced on the ground.  This bought the thieves time to escape from his view.  By the time he got out of it and regained control of his muscles enough to fly, the crooks had maneuvered the city like a maze, and he didn't know where to look, they had gotten away.  He looked over several city blocks and couldn't find him, and was forced to give up.

"****" he said to himself.

He flew off to the nearby park and found a secluded spot to meditate and heal.

That was the forth unsuccessful attempt to catch bank robbers this week!



On the news that night

"The Tomerarenai purotto corporation just received over $5 million dollars in donations from an anonymous donor this evening for their new project on Zenchō hill outside city limits.

The project to build a new factory there has been underway for three months now and they've really been moving along thanks to the help of all these private donors that must really believe in their cause, which of coarse is to develop new "greener" technology to help the environment and cut down on pollution.

We have a spokesperson for the organization here with us now how are you?"

"Good and thank you, I'm really honored to be part of this amazing organization and to see such a great turn out of donors for such a good cause.  It's been amazing with over 37 million dollars donated by private, anonymous donors over the last three months, it's amazing..."

About half the city watched that news broadcast stream into their homes on their television sets.



It was about 2am when the superhero came out of his meditative state in the park.  

He got up energized and flew around.

He saw some guy trying to steal some lady's purse, he zipped down and stood right behind the guy without him even noticing.

The guy got the purse turned around and ran right into him and knocked himself down.

"What do you think you're doing?" the superhero said authoritarily.  Then he lunged in grabbed the guy by the shirt at the scruff of the chest.  With his other hand he picked up the lady's purse, handed it to her, and told her to go home and get out of the dangerous night city streets.  Then he flew the criminal to the police station, told them what he had witnessed, and took off.

Suddenly he heard police sirens all over the city they seemed to be closing in on a specific area, the superhero flew to that area to see what was going on.

He found a police sergeant standing next to a cop car, and stopped to ask him what's going on.

"A masked lunatic just killed 19 people and is now trying to escape in a small silver car, we've got every available unit trying to hunt him down."

He wasted no time, taking up in the air leaving a wind in his wake, the superhero started quickly combing the city for a small silver car driving conspicuously.  He found one, and when he flew over it to check it out, all of a sudden he had gunshots being fired at him from inside the car.

"This must be it," he charged the car with full speed but the driver sped up to keep ahead of him.

This isn't going to work, he thought, I should make them think they lost me and follow them secretly and see where they go.

The next time a gunshot was fired the superhero grabbed his chest and purposefully fell down, to make them think he had been shot.  Once their guard was down he followed them in secret.

They drove outside of the city thinking they had lost all tails, down a couple winding roads, then climbed Zenchō hill toward the Tomerarenai purotto corporation's construction spot, then went inside.  

The superhero landed outside the building and contemplated his next plan.  He noticed an open window to an office on the second floor, he carefully peered through the window and saw no one in the office, he flew in and landed on the floor careful not to make a sound above a mouse squeak.  He quietly crept through the empty hallways until he reached the staircase, when he heard voices whispering downstairs, "He's gonna be here any minute/ get everything ready."  

The hero thought he had no time to lose, he took to the air, bolted down stairs and with a loud dramatic voice yelled "Halt!"

"He's here!" they yelled as one of them ran toward a giant device that looked like a satellite dish, and the other one ran and pulled a rope, dropping piles and piles of smoldering coal around the superhero that immediately made him so sick he could barely move.  industrial type smoke was his weakness.  

"We've been planning for you to come here," the guy in the mask said firing up the satellite dish looking weapon and pointing it at him.  

"W-What do you want?" the superhero asked weakened, frail, and short of breath on his hands and knees on the floor.

"To **** you so you won't stand in our way"

The superhero was growing weaker, and weaker, as the giant atomic laser pointed at him started glowing red, I told you this story was called "death of a superhero".

"Death, of a superhero?"  the superhero grunted, "DEATH, of a SUPERHERO!?!" he shouted again, "YOU'VE BEEN ORCHESTRATING MY DEATH!" The superhero yelled at the narrator.  

Yes I have, the narrator said all the people in the room could hear me, I've been planning your death since before you went after that getaway vehicle, I have such omnipotent like power over your world, I'm the reason the taser gave the one's working for these two time to escape, I'm the reason you never checked this place out until everything was ready, and now I get to watch these two **** you, and laugh, knowing that you'll never find me and there's nothing you can do to change events.

Now, the beam was fully charged

"No!" the superhero thought, "up till this point, I thought I had to go along with everything the narrator said, but no!"  He started to slowly manage to get up.

The masked killer hit the button, fired the laser, and killed the superhero instantly.

Wait what?

"You think you can just **** me by saying so," the superhero grunted out louder slowly rising to his feet.  Mentally forcing his body to work even in the presence of his weakness, in reality, contrary to what the narrator said, the beam was still charging.  

"No!" the superhero continued, getting stronger and healthier, "THERE WILL BE NO DEATH OF A SUPER HERO!!!" suddenly the superhero's personal energy was strong enough to clear a bubble around him of fresh air pushing the smoke around it.  He flew through the air at bullet speed and punched the masked killer across the room and out of consciousness.  Then he went for the assistant who was running to the door, in the heat of the moment, the superhero, hitting him up from behind, punched a hole straight through his skull and he fell to the ground head-gored-dead.  The superhero deactivated the laser. and stood and looked around to try and find that supervillian mastermind, the narrator.  

"You will never find me," the narrator said, "I exist in an inexcusable part of your reality."

Then another voice broke through, "I will open up a portal to the narrator for you" the author said, "be wary though, even in his own part of this dimension, he is very frippery and slick, you must not let him break free into you're general reality, lest he end your world."

Suddenly a glowing golden sword appeared in a light before the superhero, he took it and bowed, understanding what he was to do.

A shimmering white and grey portal swirled out of thin air.  He looked at it for a second as it grew outwards until it was big enough for him to walk through.  He slowly marched into it, guard heightened as he did not know what to expect, carrying the glowing golden sword behind his back.

Inside the portal was a large white room where the narrator lived.  there was a large white shelf, four walls and a ceiling, the portal remained open.  

He looked around but didn't see the narrator at first, when he realized the narrator had filled half the room with a thick white fog to mask himself.

"Show yourself you coward!" the hero yelled.  Sudddenly a large fist came out of the fog and punched the superhero right in the face, he stumbled back a few steps, but didn't let it knock him over.  Suddenly a humanoid figure stepped out of the fog, it had a body like a man but a head like a king cobra.

"S--sssss--o" it said, "you found a way to find me," "Hisssssssssssss..."

"I found you and I will destroy you to free my world from your evil," the superhero said.

"Is-s that sssssssssso" the beast said.  "And how do you plan to do that? Hisssssssss".

Then the narrator's eyes widened when he say the glowing gold sword behind his back.

"I will cover myself in armor that that sword can't pierce." He said.

"And an armor appeared around the narrator, except it only appeared to cover his head, and his face was still bare." The narrator said and it happened.

The superhero lunged at the narrator with the sword but the narrator slipped to the right and shot ***** of fire at the superhero, but the superhero dodged.

"And his hand got shaky and it greatly effected his aim," the narrator hissed out.

The superhero swung at the narrator, but missed everytime.

"I've got to steady my aim" the superhero thought to himself, putting most of his energy into his arm to hold it steady.  The narrator backed away from him, hissing and darting back and forth as if antagonizing him, perhaps trying to distract him and his focus.

Suddenly he felt a surge of energy push back from the sword, flow up his arm and flood his body, the sword glowed brighter and he was in control of himself again.

He went after the narrator full force, swinging and jabbing the sword, but the narrator dodged every attack.

"You'll never defeat me!" the narrator hissed.

But while he said that he lost focus, and the superhero swung the sword right into the side of the human part of the body, so deep it hit something metal and stopped.  

"Then he dropped the sword," the narrator said quickly and it happened.  The superhero's hand snapped wide open before his willpower could stop it, and the sword dropped to the ground with a "shink".

Acting super fast, the narrator dropped to the ground and picked up the sword with his teeth, and slithered out of his fake, damaged human body into his true form, a giant king cobra looking snake, covered in a heavy metal armor that was scaly and didn't restrict his movements.  Quickly, he slithered  over to the portal, but the superhero grabbed his lower armor before he got a chance to escape into the hero's world, and used his body to anchor the snake to that spot.

The narrator swung and slithered his body to try to free himself from the hero's hold but he was holding on to well, and the serpent could not escape.  

The hero did not know what to do, he needed to get the sword back and slay the serpent, but he had to keep both hands on him to keep him from getting free.

He had an idea, he used his legs to help anchor the serpent, and climbed him to get to his head to retrieve the sword.  Slowly he worked his way up the snake as he slithered and struggled to get free.  When it seemed inevitable that the hero was gonna get the sword back, the serpent spit it out and it landed next to the door.  Then he shot fireballs out of his mouth at point blank range at the superhero which distracted him enough for him to loose his grasp, and let the serpent break free.  The serpent quickly slithered over to the portal, hissed "goodbye sucker", mouthed the sword once again, and slithered out the portal.

The superhero jumped up and flew after the serpent, and crash landed onto of him on the other side of the now closing portal.  

"The masked murderer woke up and came over to help the narrator," the serpent hissed out.

Suddenly the masked murderer came over and the hero was trying to get him on his side to break the stalemate.

As the snake and the superhero wrestled, the superhero called out to the masked murderer, "Don't help him, if he escapes me now, he'll destroy the world!"

"Don't listen to your enemy," the narrator hissed out, "**** him!"

"Don't listen to him," the superhero tried to reason with him, "he's just manipulating you, everybody, he's the reason you wanted to **** me and do this whole project in the first place, YOU ultimately have free will! and we need to **** him."

The narrator strikes and bit the superhero's arm for telling the masked killer he had free will.  

"What do you need!" the masked ****** shouted when he got over there.  

"**** him" the serpent hissed out!

"The sword!" the hero shouted.

The masked murderer, not knowing what to do, picked up the sword and handed it to the hero.

The superhero used it to pry off a piece of the serpent's armor, poised it into position and struck down.  The narrator shifted his body however so the sword narrowly missed, and curved his tail so the open spot in the armor was underneath him, "Grab him!" the superhero said, hold him steady so I can get a good shot."

The Masked murderer did just that, and the hero drove the sword through the opening and impaled the narrator right there, and actually cut him in two.

"But then the narrator's body sealed at the womb and he slithered free" the serpent said and it happened, and he slithered at full speed toward the same door the masked murderer's assistant tried to escape through, and he was making distance.

"And then a layer of cement formed around the superhero's ankle so he couldn't chase the narrator." and a piece of cement attached to the floor formed around his ankle.

But the superhero made quick work of that, a **** of the leg and it reduced to crumbles and he got up and chased the serpent.

The serpent got outside the door and mumbled something, suddenly the door was a pure steel wall.  Three punches by the superhero weakened the steel and severely dented it, the forth punch and it went flying off and the superhero ran outside and saw the narrator escaping into the brush.  He knew what he had to do, he lunged at him and grabbed him just by the head, and ****** the sword through a hail of fireballs straight into it's mouth, the narrator couldn't speak to reverse that action and he died shortly after.
This is not a poem
I just found this old poem from 2006 and I kinda liked it ....

SSSSS

Silver solar sails slither
******* slowly stardust
sending slurping syrup sounds
so sensitive so sirreal  

Sunshine slaves
stand static, silent
savouring sweet sullen sweat
sinking slowly sighing slightly


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Wanderer Oct 2014
Slithering smooth seduction spans synchronizing sacred satin sheets*

The letter S
Has much power over our hormone driven lives
*** and Sadness
Being two that drive us/hinder us
The most
Why not spiral out, keep going
See where the end takes us
Our comparison to every single thing that we know or have thought of
Is relative and personal
Each experience unique in that you experienced it
Speculation drives our curious natures to question
To create
*What will inspire you today?
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2017
it's not even funny... there's no etymology,
                                                as a matter of fact,
there's no rosetta stone either...
        there's the three tier concern for
                                taking a ****...
            **** till the **** is nibbling out of your
    ****... you know... taking a sneaky peak
into the greater confines of: here be thy world!
         a "lake"! and then a ******* whirlwind
                                    'ere we go 'ere we go...
    southampton football hoolidans in addition
chanting: oh when the saints! oh when the saint
come marchin' in!
                           the turds are like?
                                     i thought you liked ****?  
is this the part where you tell me...
   psst... mate... you're telling a really ****** joke....
get off the stage before they take out rotten
t'oh m'ah t'ah                   sssss
                         and those god awful cabbages!
me? it's saying: i'm ready for my ******... princess!
   foo!
                         and so it's thrown and my face
turns into a miracle device...
          the face... that turned a rotting cabbage...
   into a plum!
                              even jesus was like: w.t.f.?!
true story.
                    but the funnier side of things is
etymology within the groundwork of bilingualism...
polymaths? they can... *******...
                  they know enough languages
and use them to a sufficient standard, that they
can buy a cup of coffee in either
    paris or seoul (sea owl.... flap flap... flap) -
             they're rigid *******, they know the basic
arithmetic that's a mongrel of letters
            and numbers...
                 they try but can't tell a rottweiler
from a doberman apart...
                but they can tell a schnitzel from
a hamburger... as quickly as you can snap your fingers...
   boom! crescendo.
                   but being bilingual isn't fun...
you're sorta into digging trenches...
     it's like: western europe really gives a ****
about world war uno!
         eastern europe? really gives a **** about
world war deux!
                                  scandinavia? really gives a ****
about bonanza; or how the japanese pronounce it:
BAN! ZAI!
                             i really want to laugh...
but i can't... only because i spent the past half hour
trying to mediate bilingualism in etymology...
               it took only one word...
   hedgehog...
                  that's all it took...
   hedgehog...
                                                   ­  iglak?
   iglasty?
                                       iskra?
                                 maciupka świnka?
coś między drzewem a kwiatem... krzak!
nie... nie nie... to nie to...


hedgehog...   bush-eating-"pig"...

                                                            jeż­!

it's not even etymology what just happened...
        it's a juggling act...
                       but it's quasi-etymological in that
two tongues are competing
    to source a "coincidence", that
       a translation might not require third party
politics of a dictionary...
   but come on...  
                               what sort of bin bang
theory can you compensate
  when the etymology is polar...
               i.e. parallel divergent...
            hedgehog                           /
            jeż            \
                          
      ­   but that's what exists in a mind of a bilingual,
philosophy is the last possible point of entry
into a bewildered mind...
                            etymology on the other hand?
the 1st.
                                 that's not to say:
source the origins...
                                       knock knock?
who's there?
    eh              co!       eh           co!             echo!
                                     ever try doing that in a cave?

all and just that, a simple word,
                hedgehog... and half an hour thinking of
the equivalent in another language...
     half an hour... ****!
     you could probably count to a 1000 in the same
space of time.
SSS
SSSS
SSSSSSSS
SSSSS
S
S
S
SS
S

SSSSSSS

S

S

SS
SSSSSSSSSS
S
S
­S
SS
S
S
SS
S
S
SS
S
S
SS
S
SSS
S
S
S
S
S
S
SSSSS
SS
S

S
S
SS



S
S
S
SSS
SS
SS
S
S
S

S
S
S
S
SS
S
SSSSSS
S
S
SS
S
S
SS
SSS

S­S
S
S
S
S
S
SSS

S
S
S
S
S
S
SS
S

SSS
SS
S
S
SS

SS


S
S
S
S
S
­S

SS
S
S
S
S
S
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
Jennifer Cheung May 2010
If I could...
I would have the

long
looong
looooong

s
k
i
n
n
y

legs of a model,

A TINY

   tiny

     t

   iny

WAIST,

beautiful hands

(to wear those byooooootiful RINGS),

and flowy, wavvvvvy locks.

I could wear any sunglasses I wanted

(not just the ones with nose pads)

And still look modest in shorts.

I could be a bit taller,

taller than this

FIVE

FOOT

FRAME

and still look good

in peeptoe

l o
u  bo
u    ti
n     sssss.

I would have glowing

smoooooooooooth skin.

BUT

Despite

wishingwishingwishing

for the perfect body

I still love my

palm-sized lumps,

my blemished spotted uneven skin,

my thick thighs,

and my ugly hands.

At least I can wear high heels

to make me

TALLER.
Written May 9th, 2010
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2017
honestly? it was the best part of the day,
drawing those electron-migration diagrams
when conceptualising organic compounds...

       plus i like the culinary aspect of the whole enterprise...
ever sniffed esters?
            sweet *******...
          if i remember correctly: the basis for
                            the art of brewing perfumes.

but it had to happen... i was going to become
     a heretical linguist of some sort, having taken to
the organic chemistry diagrams
                              that state how electrons migrate...
well... "state"... first they tell you they're in orbit,
then they tell you they're in clouds...
                         and then... they go back to the orbit
theory with how            H H
                                        |   |
                                   H-C-C-OH
                                        |   |
                                       H  H                  (ethanol)
is broken down, or used... to make something
else... it's usually a canvas chemical...
                    you don't want the impurities of
water...
                        **** knows what breeds in that
liquid... ethanol? you know that whatever could
have bred on a microorganism level would die
off from the fire aspect of ethanol...
                    what is funny is watching this website
over the past few days...
                      are these critiques concerning
   the improvement a bit like:
                               oh no! digital eugenics!
     christ quote: seperating the sheep from the goats...
                       i'm more bothered about being
constipated and trying to figure out
                     a laxative from natural materials than
buying synthetic products...
                on this level of medical advice: i'd be
considered a quack-doctor... but then best before
yogurt mixed with milk... **** me...
             considering my bowels?
                         i'd be a 100m sprinter
                          all the way through a marathon...
    oh by the way: ʒ is covert way of indicating
                           ż - which, as you can see,
has a diacritical distinction encapsulated...
                         capital version?    Ƶ -
                 and that's rare, it's a bit like seeing a yeti
on a page... rare as ****...
                                      so i'm thinking... is this
the spot where the german (es und zed) ß came from?
              chopping off the head on the particular?
            oh look... they correlate... Ƶ and Ł -
    but that really depends on your linguistic palette -
depends what century you were born in,
                and what the vogue of a tongue invoked.
   but now for the critical part....
       several things... all at once...
               ever made a schnitzel / a schabowy?
                                            sh       ­         s ha    v
you know... when you get a pork fillet
  and you have to flatten it out with... tłuczek...
      o.k. (hand signal... index + thumb
   touching for an O... and the remainder:
         K = III... that's middle, ring and pinky fingers)
               the only transalation i have that's even
remotely accurate is                "pestle" -
but you see, to flatten a pork fillet you use something
akin to a maczuga / a culinary bludgeon -
                   then you put the flattened pork fillet
into egg goo... and then into breadcrumbs...
                               anyway...
    the archimedes bit...
                          it's the opposite of having that quote
ring true: give me a lever long enough and i'll
move the earth...
                                to really flatten a fillet of pork
you have to hold the tłuczek close to the tip
          of the metal-head...
                                i don't know why that's true...
maybe because this isn't a problem for archiemdes
to use a lever, and lift something up...
             but it's a case for hammering something
down, flattening it into a schnitzel form -
                             you need to hold the instrument
really close to the metal-head tip, rather than
    at the end of the wooden stem...
                             it's just the opposite of what's
true within archimedes...
      and yes, i know that schnitzel refers to chicken fillets...
but do know you what else?
                 when you wake up the next day
and have a nicotine hangover?
                        and you're coughing?
              it's also called: coughing up a schabowy -
                                     sssss    ha              bo'h     v  
            and by now you realise this y
                                          is not related to an i -
rather a "dried" out sound... equivalent to the metaphor
of swallowing your tongue;
                                        i.e. enter hades.
Pen Lux Dec 2011
The best burn I've ever felt
came from a small reflection
tucked away, strong,
removed from temptation.

Share your selection: perception.

Something about this weather makes me sick,
and cuddly. All I want these days is to be alone,
with a body, and nobody, and something to help
me forget a few things: less personal.

Moving around, faster, each by three.
So in love with this moment, I start to catch on fire,
a page full of ****, and forget me please.
You tasted better in the morning, I hope I did too.

Contamination through determination.
We're going back in time for the last time,
it's the beginning of moving forward.
What haunts us haunts us only in subconscious,
so we lay on the floor, curl in the kitchen,
inhale: new decisions.

Getting on tracks, hearing about the ones that got loose,
and the ones that go too close
avoiding getting ran over,
running over,
rereading
listening
listening
listening
I can hear you listening in the silence you create:
thank you!

This progress is beating it's way inside
of us, the way we beat into each other.

Um, um um um uhhhh Ah cha rah cha cha cha
I love you,
and I'm not going to say it more
than I feel it
and I feel it, oh honey, it's coming
faster than I do on the weekends.

Sttttrrrreeeeetttcccchhhhhhhhhhhh
rip feathers, wash away the leathers.
Last nights reminder sent me shivering
shocked.

Your voice is changing,
there's more than one
and you can talk about her as much as you want,
'cause I spend most my day doing the same thing's
inside as you do outside, just we do everything at the
same time, so there's no need for questions, because
everything's an answer.

Answering yes.
Yes yes yes yes yes
yes yes yes
y e s
  y  eeee sssss
ssss
ssssss
eyy yeeuh yes
yesh.


I've always liked the shape of a woman,
long hair pulled back.
It makes sense.
Since when?
“I just woke up and you're already attacking me,
all I want to do is just go to sleep.”
     you told me when I write,
and I proved you                     wrong.
Proved myself                         wrong.

Wrong is a word said quickly and distorted at the same pace,
it's manifest destiny in the form of emotions in motion.

Wrongwrongwrong
wrungwrungwrung
riiiing riiiing riiing-
don't answer that!
beneficient
warmbody
breading
thein
theun
theorsunic
alra
RA
iffi­c
sensunsultie
sssss
solar communism in short pome format
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
Gigi Tiji Oct 2014
I fell deep -
into the dark pit in my
screaming stomach, but you
lifted me out, and filled
it right out, and
drifting, there lied
a tight knot festering
in my chest you so
tenderly untied, a hard shell
'round my shaking heart,
broken to spill the
love inside

I choked hard,
on the lump in my
thirsty throat, raw
and unspoken for,
but you taught me
how to spit it out
of my mouth,
like a sigh -
ahh...

I jumped, into
thick throbbing thoughts,
that bred anger
in my soul, but
you doused me
in stars, and I surfed
in your smiles,
that crashed
on my shores, and
put it out like a flame -
sssss!
TreadingWater Aug 2016
believe me
i _ know _ how _ sure
{you'llsay}
i fell for whoever i
think. you. are.
face it; darling
you know
Soooo.  Ooooo many
>>give >> lessssss
for so¡ much¡ more¡
{certainly romance is dead}
&woman;~
you just. stopped. keeping. score.
so convinced//broken// is
what\hearts\
are\for\
i guess five-hundred
miles-away-was-safe
to ex》plore》
how the. time. spent.
onyourmouth;
it just ^meant ^more
& i know #youknow
& you wouldn't
let | it | show
did¿ you ever¿
ask yourself
¿₩hat
for¿
Rhymey timey
TreadingWater Apr 2016
that #smile
liGHT me uP!!!
Sssss. Smack. a. grin. all. over. my. face.
<<<sh^^^a>>>>k^^^^^ing>>>>>my head
So_ silly _ I _ guess
{when you talk}
trysohardtohearthewords
While; the.  whole. time
my ¡ head¡  screams¡¡¡

You are s. I m. P. Ly  

the most bE-A-UtifUl

    .girl.....
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2017
so you think that .zip filing
a profanity is an escape?
you know what bs.zip actually
sounds like?
     a minor phobia -
  if that, or perhaps the cookie
jar of "orientating" yourself
around an omniprescence -
yes, that's how
i conceive him:
     within the confines
of an article, in this case
the indirect articulation of
a "supposed" attribute -
no, don't, don't make me
into a vanity zombie
that only fuels "his" pride -
if anyone was going to make
east london / essex english
tacky, degenerate, it would
be the americans...
    *******.
you know, i had great respect
for bukowski, once,
then i heard he didn't bother
to learn spelling...
    that's like someone telling
me that they can't do basic
arithmetic, akin to 1 + 1 = 2...
mate... there are limits
of kissing ***...
        and that broke me...
i'm thinking of donating all
the books i own by him to
a charity shop - with a piece
of toilet paper as a bookmark!
there are limits!
    and no, hiding profanity
in acronym form (as is the american
custom) doesn't do anything
other than leave you:
either stupid, or dyslexic.
look at it!
         whatever happened with
the english phrase:
    pardon my french, after
a word like: ****!
   a german once complimented
a polish word,
  as a word that influenced him
in discharging emotional
constraint...
   sure, for some people
the word kurva (originally
with a w) can release
a lot of emotional constraint -
but only if you trill the R...
and that's telling you something,
coming from a german...
evidently scheiße wasn't good
enough... i'm not surprised:
what with its oily hard to "streß"
consonant to pivot on...
          why don't the germans
like the scheiße-profanity?
ask them in english:
   shy-(t)sssss-e(h) / shy-(t)sssss-é...
ooh, look at you,
with that python on your shoulders...
if the poles balance on R -
  the germans balance on S...
  the french balance on R devolved
from trill and bound to an H-phlegm -
the english? also an R...
   although an R in dentistry -
the anaesthetic - thumbing...
thumbing, phumbing...
     ****! numbing! numbed R!
oh sure, the the surd G: gnome -
noumb - but ****! fickle thing:
reappears in diagnostics -
of all the languages in the world:
english? the most fickle -
which really does explain english
women.
so yeah, there you have it.
no, crafting acronyms to "hide"
profanity, is one thing, i will not do,
because:
a. it originated in america,
     and as a european
     i can't accept anything beyond
     music, film, literature
       (******* will not laud me
    with their phonetic alpha bravo
   charlie romeo *******!)
and...
b. i swear there was a 2nd point
    to be made...
    alpha beta rho, cistern...
    cyst...
            ah! that's why i can't
     do crosswords!
             i'm already looking for words,
     and the "poem" is already
     in quasi-semblence with a crossword...
no, wait, that wasn't it...
  **** it...
   coming from a country that invoked
prohibition...
              i never trust a man
that doesn't enjoy a drink...
                      which also means
a woman...
                 all these complaints,
and off she goes into the ****-hole
of an amazon jungle and drinks
a "magic" potion...
then comes back to the city
and starts to turn the drinking part
into an injecting "ceremony"...
       **** me...
you know how entertaining cooking
and other household chores
are when you're a little bit tipsy?
yes yes... you need a smoke and a drink
to "sooth" the palette...
        well, that's why it's "sooth":
basically numb it...
             so you can guarantee you
will not add too much salt
or chili or bay leaf to a dish.
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
microcosm at the end of the garden,
micro-dosing whiskey and a joints:
tobacco and green anger
the one to subdue in the pockets
of anxiety attacks -
that can be channeled into a focus -
all those people on chemo anxiety blockers
at least with the green anger
and the fire water managed to intellectualise
in focus - equivalent to:
painting - if done by solo venture of scribble
scrabble 'n' 'sum                  ... threat of violins
falling and slicing in the rain (demonic)
slicing water and sound and the sound of
water and the sound of fire
and the sound of air and the sound of the hearth...
nights
days
nights
days i spent listening to the four orchestras
of the elements: water had waves
of the sea and the skies of the seas falling
as rain... the grand kidney of god that is this earth
god is filtering equivalent to men censoring
each other other...
      Edie will love another, Edyta will love another
but the whole legality business visas
H-1B plenty of unskilled security men out there
so 1 - 0 to the locals...
          marriage visa? now thanks to Martin's judgement
i will sooner inherit my grandmother's apartment
with a glorious view of a cemetery....
from the balcony... and then this house in essex
this little island of abode brooding...
in exchange for a life on Kauai?
her doubts her words her disqualification of self
that she's 18 years apart in bodies...
we are 18 bodies apart... aparts... a partitioning of sigma
the splitting of the soul not by ******
but under the guise of the many loving expressions...
i have lived a life since September 2023
when i traveled to the island of Kauai to meet
a girl for the first time since i talked to her mother...
i was also looking for a transcendental father...
a father of transcendentalism: no, so no, not my mythological
father - yes: because i am currently living
with my biological father and mother and by extension
the Elephant Phantom Martin and my grandmother...
so elaborate:
from September 2023 on a writing hiatus...
brought them back Edie and Reyla to London and Reyla
****** me off for not wanting to go and see
the Phantom of the Opera...
now in the background a Hanz Zimmer crescendo from
the Dune soundtrack...
                mini puncture and now by marriage...
to say: by the duty of the wedded this monstrous wound
of tongues licking eyes and gently using like worms into
their last state of being veins of the sclera...
                  a text from my nigerian next door neighbor...
lived for 3 years like that like
no woman no cry
                             like that 3 years known to me casual
formal...
only a few days earlier
been smoking and drinking on the roof overlooking
the garden
talking poetry and not talking poetry Ayo Ayo Ayo texting
me now... i waffled back to him that he cought
me in the middle of this composition this new groove established
in infected and mushroom cancer in the brain
we are born with a brain fungus
a dormant brain fungus
what is a parasite a cancer on a tree if not the evergreen mistletoe
dormant fungus... brain... typing listening to music
text from next door neighbor thinking that Edie
will love again can love again loved in the past
we are 18 bodies apart
                                  and so so just a one sided communication
a barrier... the butterfly to caterpillar transition
of... none other expected than a St and a Martin
the ghoul the phantom the missing...
             the ego in the ego the self without self
the id so...
                                  primitive man of pre-haunt of death
most apparent to self and the shadow upon the curtain...
a talk with self most relevant now:
re-imagining what a good chromebook keyboard would
feel like so protruding like an old nokia
and the burners
and what my poetry would be like without Edie and to find
resolve i will have to reply: do you want me to stop writing
forever? because that's what you would have
to destroy... my mother could think that you killed her brother
because you came and i didn't go to visit martin
when grandmother was slowly killing him
you heard me you saw me over the phone
you heard when you heard me hear the message...
could you have said? can you come with me to Poland
blah blah...
i don't know... but blood is blood and blood is blood
and what's bothering me is family
but in the end my mother blames my grandmother
but i also thought about being blamed
and who isn't to blame but Martin himself and i wonder
how happy he is now that he has gone toward
the ******* land of la li lo le ole and lulu or lullaby
because i'm thinking about alcoholism as a zombie taboo
crawling and ******* and frolicking in open wounded
vowels like o cut up to u
or i used for a hyphen and a dot to punctuate better
to say a being stitched up to e to make
the Adam and Eve monstrosity of Eden
found in the Latin script... dated: some literary ******
just remembered that he used to write and so does...
there were nights filled with fire
there were nights filled with thoughts of women
there were nights filled with fuckless women nights
there were nights within nights
there was chaos in order and order in chaos
there was a dualism and a schizophrenia
there was certainly god and madness
and i was so almost killed by a friend of mine from
high school a Samir... in Canterbury...
try this other than **** spice
this Chilean spice...
SALVIA will make you see elephants
and you riding elephants quickened hallucinations
so smoked **** then toked the miracle...
turns out my face slid to one side and i slouched
into a dying fetal position...
them giggling... until seriousness took over and they
realized that i was not going to die...
my impressions of a death party...
death parties exist... i suppose in dark web lingo
a death party involves
at least 3 people...
           2 people plan a ****** of someone by poisoning
subtle: not like the case of brianna ****...
scarlett jenkinson and eddie ratcliffe organised a death
party... samir and mr jivandoo organised a death
party by poisoning...
              to their horror and my own i am alive aged 38
should have been dead aged 21
should have...
there were years in my calendar when writing
that i would drink a liter of whiskey a night...
i would drink a liter of whiskey a night
i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night

what killed martin a bad death of still being alive?
beer... manslaughter by grandmother?
is it in her to be able to **** both husband and son
because they were alcoholics?
genuine questions... interlude for a cigarette and
an auf wiedersehen (oꟻF vderzeen)

ꟻ: ah... remember to find Adam and Eve
in the letters... diphthong... doip doip doup dupe dulla loop
oop                              poo             sssssss
                                                        s­ss
                                                   ssss
                                                        ssss­s
                                                     ss

    s
   s  s                        5S5S5S5S5S5S
       did numbers really originate from the Raj and
thanks be to the Arabs for our modern numbers?!
b6b6b6
                  1I1I1I
                       ­                                3E3E3E
9P9P9P
                                       O0O0O0
             7 Γ7 Γ7 Γ
                                     B8B8B8
          2Z2Z2Z
                                         ­        4G4G4GQ

Q! Q! Q1 Q1 not G... i.e. 4Q

                    (    )               (     )

                                 A

                       ___


(&)                    (&)

               L

      
__

  the Doppelganger Series of Portraits
noses will be letters
the mouth will always be the flat-line of expression
status poker quo

            ($)                    ($)

                    ­      I

                  __

         (£                                 hmm...

no... I looks good...

              (#)                   (#)

                           Y

                   __

                              (Beelzebub... hashtag eyes)....
song switched to type o negative's
christian woman... but i quickly have to switch
to the recent taylor swift song i heard today...
tortured poets department...
typewriter?
                    like a tattooed labrador...
lebrador labradoor
chelsea hoes?
                            labaradorable...
              ­           no ******* body ooh what a sweet
sing along...
  smoke and bears and chocolate bars
smoking and golden retriever?
                                           cyclone of dehydration(s)
this mouth this wake up 8am with summer...

indeed... the poem has exhausted itself
         with god-flow of needing to take a **** -
switching to the memory of Jemminah
and homemade wine and foster the people six next to me...
or this is this is...
                    this is a slowly pealed grape...
                                       this is a reflection on slowly peeling
a single grape...
the unusual request to return to a former writing habit
or habit of the mind to spend an hour
elsewhere... with one's own to one's own sense of self...
and all the Wembley folks in security were hush hush
and bothered about the Netflix documentary
thinking there would be a story against the security teams
if any...
       or rather to hear first rate accounts journalists would swarm
the site post Euro Finals 2021 and ask us about any details
well the film itself became more a documentary for
anti racism...
                     it was the most comprehensive and positive
lesson in  adhering to an anti racism focus...
         i was expecting that...
the security personnel were actually praised... and there was
a sense of empathy....
   i recognized one face in the documentary:
Lee, the son of the owner of Achilleus Security who's
name is not Ralph not Romeo but probably Ricci...
           Italian connections if i were not mistaken...
                       ooze.... hit the snooze before bed
go down smoke dip mouth in some whiskers and beddie beddie
bye bye.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2018
at least "appear"
   to appreciate,
        standing in a tuxedo
  (alt. tuck-sssss-
        -e- via D' and an o['H])
"worrying" about a
           lemmings' cliff-end.
i don't know what
i know and i certainly don't
know what i don't know...
but if we're going to
be all h'american
about it?
******...
                just enjoy the free-fall!
at the point of falling
there's no regressor knowledge,
given the lost potential &
anticipation in the theoretical
realm of objects...
      there's but
the potency of engaging
           in the actuality...
which ends up being
solidified toward
  saying anything, but everything
as this:
     ram horns... +... shrove tuesday!
what?!
   am i supposed to
flap my hands in silly
re-animation
  of a sea-gull taking to flight?!
if am... fair enough...
but can i at least
master handling a speeding
train...
while at the same time
inquiring the kid
that wanted to usher in:
choo-choo!
                                 eh?
no... thought so...
*******, on your way then;
why ezra pound
didn't fall in love
with the tao motiff is beyond
me... even now...
scuttling like a maggot
in the life that he became:
post mortem.

— The End —