"straights" poems - Hello Poetry

"straights" poems

So it is a controversy. So they say, Marriage sours if your parents are gay, The idea of this seems like a self-centered View, that gay marriage partners aren't Well to do. Get over it, gays need rights as well, It's not to decide, as if you were a god, Whether they will wind up in this place You call hell. Leave them alone, let their dream be, You call this a free country where marriage is free? Or maybe you believe in the idea that all marriage Should be defined as only for straights, it's per my Humble opinion that is a favouritism argument Geared just against gays.

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Mar 19, 2015

Mar 19, 2015 at 9:42 PM UTC

Gay Marriage And "Equality"

So it is a controversy. So they say, Marriage sours if your parents are gay, The idea of this seems like a self-centered View, that gay marriage partners aren't Well to do. Get over it, gays need rights as well, It's not to decide, as if you were a god, Whether they will wind up in this place You call hell. Leave them alone, let their dream be, You call this a free country where marriage is free? Or maybe you believe in the idea that all marriage Should be defined as only for straights, it's per my Humble opinion that is a favouritism argument Geared just against gays.

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I remember being told right from wrong when I was younger, but how can I understand the right from wrong when this generation is full of discrimination. The discrimination against everything and anything a teenager does, we are told to follow in the footsteps of the ones. But how do we follow in the footsteps of each other if we are made up to follow in the footsteps of none other. How are we to live in a generation that's full of discrimination against the blacks and the whites, the gays and the straights when we are all different to one and another but equal to each other.

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Feb 13, 2016

Feb 13, 2016 at 6:16 PM UTC

A Generation Full Of Discrimination

I remember being told right from wrong when I was younger, but how can I understand the right from wrong when this generation is full of discrimination. The discrimination against everything and anything a teenager does, we are told to follow in the footsteps of the ones. But how do we follow in the footsteps of each other if we are made up to follow in the footsteps of none other. How are we to live in a generation that's full of discrimination against the blacks and the whites, the gays and the straights when we are all different to one and another but equal to each other.

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Today I had a bout of acute-you shyness one where I try to pretend I don't notice but have you noticed how difficult it is when outside idles but inside there's a race to views like you leaning side to side on the motorcycle ride slot machine driving my eyes to sly around your slides taking them wide as when I was eighteen I'd look for curves at Southend pier's end give out stares and start to take in scenes of free amusement at the Fun Bump arcade around and around the circuit you rode I was lapping up your every move sneaking a view through the coin drop peeping behind the pinball of Dr Who prying open the photo booth curtain gap faux testing the mallet with your strength playing air hockey with my thoughts were your short chic bangs a wig? they sit so still I long for the straights then swing to one side with a leg tight vibrant jeans in hairpin bends ironing out where the centre line is damp polishing the dashing leather saddle vibrating with wrist twist contempt loveliness revving up to red line exploding in my face with daring this bike crash heart of mine please forgive not stopping staring a race course habit never outgrown I go too fast and of course I fall in love as bad as deeply madly but the fact that it's with you.. well I have to forgive myself this malady I'm a side-road heading for a spin on ways to tell you you're beautiful dangerously close I risk self harm imagining that colour of pink and pale the flush u-turn will be a charm If I can get you climbing off hot and flustered I’ll have done my pit stop job at once a chance encounter and a fateful winning score to let you know you've entered into being my prize draw I'll walk away but don't be sore it's up to you to take it further but just know one thing more that if you call me to confirm and tell me that I’m worth it I would turn around so fast the world would gearshift and wait but not in neutral for us

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Aug 8, 2014

Aug 8, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC

anthony-williams

Not a slot insight

Today I had a bout of acute-you shyness one where I try to pretend I don't notice but have you noticed how difficult it is when outside idles but inside there's a race to views like you leaning side to side on the motorcycle ride slot machine driving my eyes to sly around your slides taking them wide as when I was eighteen I'd look for curves at Southend pier's end give out stares and start to take in scenes of free amusement at the Fun Bump arcade around and around the circuit you rode I was lapping up your every move sneaking a view through the coin drop peeping behind the pinball of Dr Who prying open the photo booth curtain gap faux testing the mallet with your strength playing air hockey with my thoughts were your short chic bangs a wig? they sit so still I long for the straights then swing to one side with a leg tight vibrant jeans in hairpin bends ironing out where the centre line is damp polishing the dashing leather saddle vibrating with wrist twist contempt loveliness revving up to red line exploding in my face with daring this bike crash heart of mine please forgive not stopping staring a race course habit never outgrown I go too fast and of course I fall in love as bad as deeply madly but the fact that it's with you.. well I have to forgive myself this malady I'm a side-road heading for a spin on ways to tell you you're beautiful dangerously close I risk self harm imagining that colour of pink and pale the flush u-turn will be a charm If I can get you climbing off hot and flustered I’ll have done my pit stop job at once a chance encounter and a fateful winning score to let you know you've entered into being my prize draw I'll walk away but don't be sore it's up to you to take it further but just know one thing more that if you call me to confirm and tell me that I’m worth it I would turn around so fast the world would gearshift and wait but not in neutral for us

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Life is short, we all know Whether we like it or not Maybe good, bad or holy One day we all have to go Our children may query Look upon a starry night Of the trillions there's us So why fret & why worry For what else can you do But to take it on the chin The straights, hooks, jabs Life throws swing at you

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Jul 11, 2018

Jul 11, 2018 at 7:40 AM UTC

Life is short, we all know Whether we like it or not Maybe good, bad or holy One day we all have to go Our children may query Look upon a starry night Of the trillions there's us So why fret & why worry For what else can you do But to take it on the chin The straights, hooks, jabs Life throws swing at you

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To some it’s all conjectural, Philosophically conceptual. You think you’re intellectual But your reasoning is ineffectual. Reviled both by heterosexuals Insulted as well by homosexuals And some ugly issues contractual We are the besmirched bisexuals. While it is the opposite of equality It is the essence of our reality, A warped straight-centric morality Based on a Christianist plurality. The straights tell us we must decide Then put the other gender aside. The complaints range far and wide Even gay people opt to deride. We don’t feel welcomed anywhere inside. Why doesn’t tolerance coincide When nobody seems to take our side? It’s freedom, get on the bus and ride. While it is the opposite of equality It is the essence of our reality, A warped straight-centric morality Based on a Christianist plurality. We know, after years of research Gender choice is not learned in church. It can be shaped with rods of birch But those are better for birds to perch. Denying us freedom is an ugly lurch Past including truth in a morality search. Back to when we were ruled by a church And any variance was besmirched. While it is the opposite of equality It is the essence of our reality, A warped straight-centric morality Based on a Christianist plurality.

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Mar 9, 2016

Mar 9, 2016 at 3:01 PM UTC

NATURAL CONCLUSIONS

To some it’s all conjectural, Philosophically conceptual. You think you’re intellectual But your reasoning is ineffectual. Reviled both by heterosexuals Insulted as well by homosexuals And some ugly issues contractual We are the besmirched bisexuals. While it is the opposite of equality It is the essence of our reality, A warped straight-centric morality Based on a Christianist plurality. The straights tell us we must decide Then put the other gender aside. The complaints range far and wide Even gay people opt to deride. We don’t feel welcomed anywhere inside. Why doesn’t tolerance coincide When nobody seems to take our side? It’s freedom, get on the bus and ride. While it is the opposite of equality It is the essence of our reality, A warped straight-centric morality Based on a Christianist plurality. We know, after years of research Gender choice is not learned in church. It can be shaped with rods of birch But those are better for birds to perch. Denying us freedom is an ugly lurch Past including truth in a morality search. Back to when we were ruled by a church And any variance was besmirched. While it is the opposite of equality It is the essence of our reality, A warped straight-centric morality Based on a Christianist plurality.

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Out on the road in the middle of the night, I made my way with no one in sight. Hugging all the tight corners and vrooming on the straights, Burning tyre rubber at alarming rates. Little did I know at that hour along the next turn, There'd be another person. With the wind in her hair and one of the most lovely face, She rode her little pink vespa with amazing grace. I happened to have crossed paths with her in a traffic rule breaking fashion, A move I made with deadly precision. Instantly she uttered that lovely swear word with a sweet loud tone, ******* she said, raising her middle finger alone. Wrong I was and would've apologized if I could stop, But in a hurry I was and a high speed it all to top. Late that night, those stream of events ran through my head, I pondered on it as I lay in bed. Swear words! Instantly blurted in the spur of the moment, Yet originating from the heart's deepest cavity and vent. Pure to the core, No hidden meaning they store. Swear words may have been considered in appropriate and shunned in the world, Yet they convey what a person feels most appropriately when they are hurled.

0

Feb 26, 2015

Feb 26, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC

Out on the road in the middle of the night, I made my way with no one in sight. Hugging all the tight corners and vrooming on the straights, Burning tyre rubber at alarming rates. Little did I know at that hour along the next turn, There'd be another person. With the wind in her hair and one of the most lovely face, She rode her little pink vespa with amazing grace. I happened to have crossed paths with her in a traffic rule breaking fashion, A move I made with deadly precision. Instantly she uttered that lovely swear word with a sweet loud tone, ******* she said, raising her middle finger alone. Wrong I was and would've apologized if I could stop, But in a hurry I was and a high speed it all to top. Late that night, those stream of events ran through my head, I pondered on it as I lay in bed. Swear words! Instantly blurted in the spur of the moment, Yet originating from the heart's deepest cavity and vent. Pure to the core, No hidden meaning they store. Swear words may have been considered in appropriate and shunned in the world, Yet they convey what a person feels most appropriately when they are hurled.

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**** yourself… Is what they say To the hopeless girl With the scars scattered across her skin And tears going down her cheeks **** yourself… Is what they say To the frightened boy With glasses pushed upon his nose And school books just ready to learn **** yourself… Is what they say To the independent girl With a very unique flow and attitude And male clothing covering from head to toe **** yourself… Is what they say To the insecure boy With his lips all glossed up with lip-gloss And his hand clutched tightly between another boys’ **** yourself… Is what they say To the outcasts The Self-harmers, As if they aren’t already considering it! To the Nerds, As if they aren’t already being made fun of! To the Transgenders, As if they aren’t already been judged enough! To the Homosexuals, As if they haven’t heard it once before! **** yourself… Is what they say To the Gays The Straights The Geeks, And the Weirdoes **** yourself… Is what they say To the ones who are misunderstood And who are scared to even express themselves… ALL BECAUSE OF PEOPLE LIKE YOU! By Zyanneh Frazier

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Sep 29, 2015

Sep 29, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC

**** yourself… Is what they say To the hopeless girl With the scars scattered across her skin And tears going down her cheeks **** yourself… Is what they say To the frightened boy With glasses pushed upon his nose And school books just ready to learn **** yourself… Is what they say To the independent girl With a very unique flow and attitude And male clothing covering from head to toe **** yourself… Is what they say To the insecure boy With his lips all glossed up with lip-gloss And his hand clutched tightly between another boys’ **** yourself… Is what they say To the outcasts The Self-harmers, As if they aren’t already considering it! To the Nerds, As if they aren’t already being made fun of! To the Transgenders, As if they aren’t already been judged enough! To the Homosexuals, As if they haven’t heard it once before! **** yourself… Is what they say To the Gays The Straights The Geeks, And the Weirdoes **** yourself… Is what they say To the ones who are misunderstood And who are scared to even express themselves… ALL BECAUSE OF PEOPLE LIKE YOU! By Zyanneh Frazier

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There's a stream, splashing and gurgling, sending up in the air a single bead of water, sun beams giving a lightbulb's twinkle and inside lying fragments of it's history, I wonder if it has a tomorrow As I daydream about it's mysteries; The path down the stream, taken within the flow with other waters, weaves, in and out of the gills of a baby minnow, over and through smoothed rocks, Seeping from a canal racing through locks, drifting down straights with no bends Left from the **** of a stag weekend, And before that a can of cider, and before that a tube in a mechanical assembly line, from a water tap, that came from a reservoir, Which fell from clouds above it's perimeter, and before that splashed from ocean froth, lifted up in a collision of waves like a table cloth after being taken on the hull of a speed boat carrying ******* from a river, where it had once briefly been on a paddle from a man fishing to make his living. And further up the river where it divides into streams and then nothing, and then famine, moist ground from tears, It had been someone suffering. A million lives entwined in a drop of water, each one a coincidence, coinciding just by chance the spectrum of it's experience of us is wide, and with each and every drop the water empathised, Tears at a wedding, At a funeral, Christmas spirit in mulled wine, A plume of sea water from the belly of a jellyfish, Pushed forward through it's life, A trillion drops of water helping to make gravity decide How high or low to go to make the tide, Unified in direction helped by the sun's and the moon's light, Does it take the love of one direction (not the band) to be unified?

0

Jul 15, 2013

Jul 15, 2013 at 8:35 PM UTC

anomalous-anonymous

There's a stream, splashing and gurgling, sending up in the air a single bead of water, sun beams giving a lightbulb's twinkle and inside lying fragments of it's history, I wonder if it has a tomorrow As I daydream about it's mysteries; The path down the stream, taken within the flow with other waters, weaves, in and out of the gills of a baby minnow, over and through smoothed rocks, Seeping from a canal racing through locks, drifting down straights with no bends Left from the **** of a stag weekend, And before that a can of cider, and before that a tube in a mechanical assembly line, from a water tap, that came from a reservoir, Which fell from clouds above it's perimeter, and before that splashed from ocean froth, lifted up in a collision of waves like a table cloth after being taken on the hull of a speed boat carrying ******* from a river, where it had once briefly been on a paddle from a man fishing to make his living. And further up the river where it divides into streams and then nothing, and then famine, moist ground from tears, It had been someone suffering. A million lives entwined in a drop of water, each one a coincidence, coinciding just by chance the spectrum of it's experience of us is wide, and with each and every drop the water empathised, Tears at a wedding, At a funeral, Christmas spirit in mulled wine, A plume of sea water from the belly of a jellyfish, Pushed forward through it's life, A trillion drops of water helping to make gravity decide How high or low to go to make the tide, Unified in direction helped by the sun's and the moon's light, Does it take the love of one direction (not the band) to be unified?

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In dire straights the human being's collective conscience coalesces compassion. Always to create in those moments nothing short of miracles.

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May 3, 2016

May 3, 2016 at 8:28 AM UTC

Powerful Miracles

In dire straights the human being's collective conscience coalesces compassion. Always to create in those moments nothing short of miracles.

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There once was light where I stand; Now I'm unable to even see my hand. A time of darkness has dawned upon us; Just makes me want to scream and cuss. Loadshedding is what they call it; Unable to see I sometimes trip. It happens at times when we are hard at work; Or at home while making dessert. It's something that's beyond control; Or at least that's what we are told. The energy grids struggle to take on the pressure; Thus reducing our times of leisure. It's something that drives us insane; Yet there is nobody we can blame. How long long will this dampen our spirit? Even they don't know it. What are we to do in this dire straights? Well nothing, just sit and wait.

0

Feb 12, 2019

Feb 12, 2019 at 1:30 PM UTC

Akshi-WordsFlow

Time of Darkness

There once was light where I stand; Now I'm unable to even see my hand. A time of darkness has dawned upon us; Just makes me want to scream and cuss. Loadshedding is what they call it; Unable to see I sometimes trip. It happens at times when we are hard at work; Or at home while making dessert. It's something that's beyond control; Or at least that's what we are told. The energy grids struggle to take on the pressure; Thus reducing our times of leisure. It's something that drives us insane; Yet there is nobody we can blame. How long long will this dampen our spirit? Even they don't know it. What are we to do in this dire straights? Well nothing, just sit and wait.

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lovestruck Romeo sings the streets of serenade Laying everybody low with a love song that he made Finds a convenient streetlight steps out of the shade Says something like you and me babe how about it? Juliet says hey it's Romeo you nearly gimme me a heart attack He's underneath the window she's singing hey la my boyfriend's back You shouldn't come around here singing up at people like that Anyway what you gonna do about it? Juliet the dice were loaded from the start And I bet and you exploded in my heart And I forget I forget the movie song When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet? Come up on different streets they booth were streets of shame Both ***** both mean yes and the dream was just the same And I dreamed your dream for you and now your dream is real How can you look at me as if I was just another one of your deals? When you can fall for chains of silver you can fall for chains of gold You can fall for pretty strangers and the promises they hold You promised me everything you promised me thick and thin Now you just say oh Romeo yeah you know I used to have a scene with him Juliet when we made love you used to cry You said I love you like the stars above I'll love you till I die There's a place for us you know the movie song When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong Juliet? I can't do the talk like they talk on TV And I can't do a love song like the way it's meant to be I can't do everything but I'd do anything for you I can't do anything except be in love with you And all I do is miss you and the way we used to be All I do is keep the beat and bad company All I do is kiss you through the bars of Orion Julie I'd do the stars with you any time Juliet when we made love you used to cry You said I love you like the stars above I'll love you till I die There's a place for us you know the movie song When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong Juliet? A lovestruck Romeo sings the streets of serenade Laying everybody low with a love song that he made Finds a convenient streetlight steps out of the shade Says something like you and me babe how about it? You and me babe how bout it?

0

Dec 28, 2016

Dec 28, 2016 at 8:16 PM UTC

Dire Straights Romeo and Juliet

lovestruck Romeo sings the streets of serenade Laying everybody low with a love song that he made Finds a convenient streetlight steps out of the shade Says something like you and me babe how about it? Juliet says hey it's Romeo you nearly gimme me a heart attack He's underneath the window she's singing hey la my boyfriend's back You shouldn't come around here singing up at people like that Anyway what you gonna do about it? Juliet the dice were loaded from the start And I bet and you exploded in my heart And I forget I forget the movie song When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet? Come up on different streets they booth were streets of shame Both ***** both mean yes and the dream was just the same And I dreamed your dream for you and now your dream is real How can you look at me as if I was just another one of your deals? When you can fall for chains of silver you can fall for chains of gold You can fall for pretty strangers and the promises they hold You promised me everything you promised me thick and thin Now you just say oh Romeo yeah you know I used to have a scene with him Juliet when we made love you used to cry You said I love you like the stars above I'll love you till I die There's a place for us you know the movie song When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong Juliet? I can't do the talk like they talk on TV And I can't do a love song like the way it's meant to be I can't do everything but I'd do anything for you I can't do anything except be in love with you And all I do is miss you and the way we used to be All I do is keep the beat and bad company All I do is kiss you through the bars of Orion Julie I'd do the stars with you any time Juliet when we made love you used to cry You said I love you like the stars above I'll love you till I die There's a place for us you know the movie song When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong Juliet? A lovestruck Romeo sings the streets of serenade Laying everybody low with a love song that he made Finds a convenient streetlight steps out of the shade Says something like you and me babe how about it? You and me babe how bout it?

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patterns reflect patterns reflect history repeating itself I see problems in humanity because humanity corrupts seriously, we can't have a movement for "better" without making it worse listen, slavery, right? whites hated blacks deemed them lesser deemed them nobodies, nonexistent that's putting it generic so what do we have now? an era of white-haters! so many "minorities" standing up and saying "I hate the whites" we have done a 360 and it kills me it was supposed to be about blacks being seen as equals being seen as people instead of blacks and now, yeah, I'm going there gays I love gays, man but y'all are killing me too this is what I see gays oppressed, dismissed, told they're sinners unholy, bad, gross, wrong, backwards, ugh they were beaten, bloodied, bruised, murdered, silenced so the gays stand up what do I hear? "I hate Christians" "I hate straights" "I hate everyone who is not gay" people hating on macklemore because he tried to stand up for THE PEOPLE! they say "a straight white man cannot represent the gay community" I'm sorry WHAT???? we act like no one has gone through HARDSHIP we act like if you're white, straight, and a male, you're golden free happy perfect wake up. what no one discusses is that the issue is right vs wrong right vs wrong right vs wrong I'm not a straight white male but I know right vs wrong I'm not an Irish Jew but I know right vs wrong I'm not a Haitian Creole Indian goddess but I know right vs wrong you don't have to BE the oppression to SPEAK on the oppression you have to know right vs wrong I say macklemore knows I know you know let's speak up what is wrong is discrimination what is right is taking a stand to end it so please blacks, gays, minorities, whites, humans, majorities, stop obliterating good or else you'll be confined to the chains of oppression and silence until the day you die and so on amen I'm a human being tell me what I cannot speak on

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Sep 10, 2014

Sep 10, 2014 at 5:06 AM UTC

brokenperfection

Politically Never Correct

patterns reflect patterns reflect history repeating itself I see problems in humanity because humanity corrupts seriously, we can't have a movement for "better" without making it worse listen, slavery, right? whites hated blacks deemed them lesser deemed them nobodies, nonexistent that's putting it generic so what do we have now? an era of white-haters! so many "minorities" standing up and saying "I hate the whites" we have done a 360 and it kills me it was supposed to be about blacks being seen as equals being seen as people instead of blacks and now, yeah, I'm going there gays I love gays, man but y'all are killing me too this is what I see gays oppressed, dismissed, told they're sinners unholy, bad, gross, wrong, backwards, ugh they were beaten, bloodied, bruised, murdered, silenced so the gays stand up what do I hear? "I hate Christians" "I hate straights" "I hate everyone who is not gay" people hating on macklemore because he tried to stand up for THE PEOPLE! they say "a straight white man cannot represent the gay community" I'm sorry WHAT???? we act like no one has gone through HARDSHIP we act like if you're white, straight, and a male, you're golden free happy perfect wake up. what no one discusses is that the issue is right vs wrong right vs wrong right vs wrong I'm not a straight white male but I know right vs wrong I'm not an Irish Jew but I know right vs wrong I'm not a Haitian Creole Indian goddess but I know right vs wrong you don't have to BE the oppression to SPEAK on the oppression you have to know right vs wrong I say macklemore knows I know you know let's speak up what is wrong is discrimination what is right is taking a stand to end it so please blacks, gays, minorities, whites, humans, majorities, stop obliterating good or else you'll be confined to the chains of oppression and silence until the day you die and so on amen I'm a human being tell me what I cannot speak on

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. what's the difference between thieves, and magicians? not much... both have quick hands... and an awake, yet asleep public communal presence... the thief has a public of the victim, and the c.c.t.v. "stage"... the magician? has a public of the crowd, and the "dajjal" stage of a camera replenishing a concept of: not enough public... thieves and magicians are bedfellows... you allow one to flourish... the antithesis will come along, and in an indiscriminate fashion... allow the "magic" / "thieving" to take place... what is a magician, a public figure... compared... to a thief? i can't see the difference... the audience was fooled by the magician... the individual was fooled by the thief... are they... so much unlike each other? magicians can own a theater stage... thieves, sometimes... just sometimes... own the, basic... pointlessness of english c.c.t.v. mechanics, to make police officers make: a follow-up investigation... oh, but i have genius interrogation practices... no one wants to listen to... like 10 hours straights of listening to stefan molyneux... or 48 hours, sleep deprived... listening to BBC 24 hour news reels... that **** could crack anyone... what the americans did to the Iraqis? last time i heard... they blasted the slayer oeuvre down headphones into their ears... Americans... feeding conquered Iraqis with a slayer oeuvre? BRAVO! BRAVO! ENCORE! and didn't the encore come? ******* retards... crows feeding seagull chicks with sinew and regurgitated scavenger meat! if only they played them some Bach... i'm pretty sure... the Iraqis would still be left... disorientated... but the American army "interrogators"... ha ha! played them the slayer oeuvre! WEE-TARDS! anyone... and i mean anyone: will relieve themselves as being "tortured": doubly charged up, and ready to ingest hyper-coffee in the form of the Luftwaffe tactic of ingesting amphetamines (pervitin) - night-raids... the londoonoirnischt blitz, sloth krieg... ya ya yawn... urgh... burp... and always... those poncy - english, gay, aristocratic men... and their... psychotropic women... so what's the difference between a common thief... and a spectacle magician? one "owns" cctv footage, the other owns a stage... yet both share a: quicksilver take on, what cannot be interpreted in either handwriting or stenography... hmm... can't be sure whether both could be considered legal.

0

Jul 31, 2018

Jul 31, 2018 at 12:16 AM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

thieves & magicians

. what's the difference between thieves, and magicians? not much... both have quick hands... and an awake, yet asleep public communal presence... the thief has a public of the victim, and the c.c.t.v. "stage"... the magician? has a public of the crowd, and the "dajjal" stage of a camera replenishing a concept of: not enough public... thieves and magicians are bedfellows... you allow one to flourish... the antithesis will come along, and in an indiscriminate fashion... allow the "magic" / "thieving" to take place... what is a magician, a public figure... compared... to a thief? i can't see the difference... the audience was fooled by the magician... the individual was fooled by the thief... are they... so much unlike each other? magicians can own a theater stage... thieves, sometimes... just sometimes... own the, basic... pointlessness of english c.c.t.v. mechanics, to make police officers make: a follow-up investigation... oh, but i have genius interrogation practices... no one wants to listen to... like 10 hours straights of listening to stefan molyneux... or 48 hours, sleep deprived... listening to BBC 24 hour news reels... that **** could crack anyone... what the americans did to the Iraqis? last time i heard... they blasted the slayer oeuvre down headphones into their ears... Americans... feeding conquered Iraqis with a slayer oeuvre? BRAVO! BRAVO! ENCORE! and didn't the encore come? ******* retards... crows feeding seagull chicks with sinew and regurgitated scavenger meat! if only they played them some Bach... i'm pretty sure... the Iraqis would still be left... disorientated... but the American army "interrogators"... ha ha! played them the slayer oeuvre! WEE-TARDS! anyone... and i mean anyone: will relieve themselves as being "tortured": doubly charged up, and ready to ingest hyper-coffee in the form of the Luftwaffe tactic of ingesting amphetamines (pervitin) - night-raids... the londoonoirnischt blitz, sloth krieg... ya ya yawn... urgh... burp... and always... those poncy - english, gay, aristocratic men... and their... psychotropic women... so what's the difference between a common thief... and a spectacle magician? one "owns" cctv footage, the other owns a stage... yet both share a: quicksilver take on, what cannot be interpreted in either handwriting or stenography... hmm... can't be sure whether both could be considered legal.

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as you keep reaching for the stars, always remember that you too are a star and speaking of stars... being a Gemini, always be mindful of: your hots and colds, your highs and lows, your lines and folds, your dulls and glows your starts and ends, your whites and hues, your straights and bends, your credits and dues your triumphs and woes, your lies and truths, your yeses and noes, your reds and blues... in all this tho' I pray of you just never lose sight of the "Gem In You"

0

Nov 11, 2023

Nov 11, 2023 at 3:16 PM UTC

as you keep reaching for the stars, always remember that you too are a star and speaking of stars... being a Gemini, always be mindful of: your hots and colds, your highs and lows, your lines and folds, your dulls and glows your starts and ends, your whites and hues, your straights and bends, your credits and dues your triumphs and woes, your lies and truths, your yeses and noes, your reds and blues... in all this tho' I pray of you just never lose sight of the "Gem In You"

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Us hippies and straights from the baby boomer generation grew up with two great television myths which determined how we turned out and they are "The Wizard Of Oz" and "Peter Pan" and every year as we grew up they were the TV events on Sunday night so as we got older we went to Oz like on LSD and stuff and realized that we wanted to go back to Kansas but like Peter Pan we didn't want to grow up so we didn't so here am I, an old baby boomer, back at his childhood home in Kansas, Michigan and I still refuse to grow up. I wish I could fly.

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Nov 15, 2011

Nov 15, 2011 at 5:06 PM UTC

kongsaeng-chris-everson

The Two Great Baby Boomer Myths

Us hippies and straights from the baby boomer generation grew up with two great television myths which determined how we turned out and they are "The Wizard Of Oz" and "Peter Pan" and every year as we grew up they were the TV events on Sunday night so as we got older we went to Oz like on LSD and stuff and realized that we wanted to go back to Kansas but like Peter Pan we didn't want to grow up so we didn't so here am I, an old baby boomer, back at his childhood home in Kansas, Michigan and I still refuse to grow up. I wish I could fly.

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The call of the open roads, a city still asleep… The slow burn as the dawn takes a bow, and sets the stage for another show... Of curves and straights, and odd complexities of going under or over… Of freedom. Of pain and sweat and sweet victories. Chirping birds and jarring horns... The familiar silhouette of wagging tails, and jagged paths... Of people... Strangers or just familiar faces. Of friends. Same places and faces. Conversations punctuated with heavy breath. Of silence amidst noise. Of solitude in crowds. Thoughts meandering in rhythm with the motion, sometimes not… The brake and breaks. Seeking pleasure in the usual, which seems same and yet unusual… Day dreaming, lost and yet aware. Fast and slow. Laughing and cringing… Gleaming legs and the last leg. It's time to get back to the 'other' life, the other side… Until, it's back to spinning again.

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Nov 20, 2017

Nov 20, 2017 at 5:15 AM UTC

The call of the open roads, a city still asleep… The slow burn as the dawn takes a bow, and sets the stage for another show... Of curves and straights, and odd complexities of going under or over… Of freedom. Of pain and sweat and sweet victories. Chirping birds and jarring horns... The familiar silhouette of wagging tails, and jagged paths... Of people... Strangers or just familiar faces. Of friends. Same places and faces. Conversations punctuated with heavy breath. Of silence amidst noise. Of solitude in crowds. Thoughts meandering in rhythm with the motion, sometimes not… The brake and breaks. Seeking pleasure in the usual, which seems same and yet unusual… Day dreaming, lost and yet aware. Fast and slow. Laughing and cringing… Gleaming legs and the last leg. It's time to get back to the 'other' life, the other side… Until, it's back to spinning again.

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I decided today when I woke up To write a poem for everyone I'd start off with the very old And end up with the young In between I'd have kings and queens Along with a peasant or two A genius with a dozen degrees Even a few without a clue For the in-laws and the outlaws Though at times they act the same If right now they're sitting next to you No need to mention names I'd also write it for the Catholics Protestants and Jews So as not to leave anyone out A Methodist marching band with kazoos What would a poem for everyone be Without rodeo and circus clowns The ones that paint happy faces Over the top of their life's frowns The tall the short and skinny of course Those that are tipping the scale Which these days are most of us But let's not dip into that well And of course I can't leave out All the gays and all the straights Who never knew that they were straight Until the gays knew they were gay I guess we've all been labeled I really don't mean to offend Oops...I almost forgot to include All the mustached women and hairy backed men If you find you weren't in here And think that your unmentionable I'd like you to know my friend My rudeness was unintentional You may take this poem for everyone And do with it what you wish Perhaps the closest receptacle Where it may join it's friends...the trash

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Oct 7, 2013

Oct 7, 2013 at 8:42 AM UTC

A Poem For Everyone

I decided today when I woke up To write a poem for everyone I'd start off with the very old And end up with the young In between I'd have kings and queens Along with a peasant or two A genius with a dozen degrees Even a few without a clue For the in-laws and the outlaws Though at times they act the same If right now they're sitting next to you No need to mention names I'd also write it for the Catholics Protestants and Jews So as not to leave anyone out A Methodist marching band with kazoos What would a poem for everyone be Without rodeo and circus clowns The ones that paint happy faces Over the top of their life's frowns The tall the short and skinny of course Those that are tipping the scale Which these days are most of us But let's not dip into that well And of course I can't leave out All the gays and all the straights Who never knew that they were straight Until the gays knew they were gay I guess we've all been labeled I really don't mean to offend Oops...I almost forgot to include All the mustached women and hairy backed men If you find you weren't in here And think that your unmentionable I'd like you to know my friend My rudeness was unintentional You may take this poem for everyone And do with it what you wish Perhaps the closest receptacle Where it may join it's friends...the trash

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bernie the cheese collapsed at the side of the road his measured response depleted he watches as she folds up her neat and meticulously spelled words plied on silver tongue into her rucksack and through such ******* ********** of kings english she entices him ever onward where faint lines can be sought and yet to be found that echo the face of true madness its laughing sweating continence painted with watercolours and can only be seen in the reflection of a mirror reflecting another mirrors image her face slowly releases its dire grip and her eye looses it screaming aspect as she finds herself alone on the ***** alleys cobblestones the battered dumpsters spilling treasures for the divers to find she begins to hum a beatles tune from '63 and fingers the lace shawl hiding her deformed mind trying once more to capture that vast lost feeling from girlhood that dances a dubious little jig on her headstone of the heart singing 'lookie here....look at whats buried here' she remembers his face but not his name he drove a silver buick with a skull painted on the hood his blond features engraved in the notions his words mixed with foul smelling chicken soup he was a soup of the day in her salad years bernie the cheese chews on the charbroiled taste of his blowup doll lover's lips and tries to say the three magic words 'made in china'?? his own words spent he casts about in terror for a phrase or two to quote from the masters of deception who gather round in long grey coats sinister eyes on the fruits of his labour their wooden faces warped by rain their mouths only a dim perceived line of mumbles written in childlike scrawl on the backs of closet doors we hide here because we cannot see therefore we cannot be seen you cant touch me because i cannot feel they gift him at price unnamed some loose parable naught more that glib reprise of his own perilous straights his is the beast that labours in their stead he is their human face she is but the road they walk today

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Nov 20, 2013

Nov 20, 2013 at 7:36 AM UTC

mark-john-junor-1

bernie the cheese collapsed at the side of the road his measured response depleted he watches as she folds up her neat and meticulously spelled words plied on silver tongue into her rucksack and through such ******* ********** of kings english she entices him ever onward where faint lines can be sought and yet to be found that echo the face of true madness its laughing sweating continence painted with watercolours and can only be seen in the reflection of a mirror reflecting another mirrors image her face slowly releases its dire grip and her eye looses it screaming aspect as she finds herself alone on the ***** alleys cobblestones the battered dumpsters spilling treasures for the divers to find she begins to hum a beatles tune from '63 and fingers the lace shawl hiding her deformed mind trying once more to capture that vast lost feeling from girlhood that dances a dubious little jig on her headstone of the heart singing 'lookie here....look at whats buried here' she remembers his face but not his name he drove a silver buick with a skull painted on the hood his blond features engraved in the notions his words mixed with foul smelling chicken soup he was a soup of the day in her salad years bernie the cheese chews on the charbroiled taste of his blowup doll lover's lips and tries to say the three magic words 'made in china'?? his own words spent he casts about in terror for a phrase or two to quote from the masters of deception who gather round in long grey coats sinister eyes on the fruits of his labour their wooden faces warped by rain their mouths only a dim perceived line of mumbles written in childlike scrawl on the backs of closet doors we hide here because we cannot see therefore we cannot be seen you cant touch me because i cannot feel they gift him at price unnamed some loose parable naught more that glib reprise of his own perilous straights his is the beast that labours in their stead he is their human face she is but the road they walk today

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Dublin is soaking, ink running on sentences, churning on the page. America is splintering, (the suburbs specifically, not the nation) into leftovers of Ticonderoga No 2. These streets breathe in and out and up to clouds illuminated by the Temple Bar, as people stream through Dublin's narrow straights, running thick and bright and damp soaked with the scent of amber, brimming with warm words like barley and hops, the world reflected through the half-empty glasses abandoned to rest stale at the bar. This boy is a livewire to a madness, quivering gasps flying to spark on her tongue when she finds the kiss in the corner of his mouth is tightly stitched in with the sound of each smile. Her hand still clings to the smells of sweat and beer with miles of backtracking ahead.

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May 4, 2013

May 4, 2013 at 9:46 PM UTC

Poetically Reproducing A Dublin Fling

Dublin is soaking, ink running on sentences, churning on the page. America is splintering, (the suburbs specifically, not the nation) into leftovers of Ticonderoga No 2. These streets breathe in and out and up to clouds illuminated by the Temple Bar, as people stream through Dublin's narrow straights, running thick and bright and damp soaked with the scent of amber, brimming with warm words like barley and hops, the world reflected through the half-empty glasses abandoned to rest stale at the bar. This boy is a livewire to a madness, quivering gasps flying to spark on her tongue when she finds the kiss in the corner of his mouth is tightly stitched in with the sound of each smile. Her hand still clings to the smells of sweat and beer with miles of backtracking ahead.

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curve turn round. only to fined straight there. then circle, who was straights uncle. curve knew him well and was allowed to past. past was a munite. curve was confused. You have to move or you can not win at the time.

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Mar 6, 2012

Mar 6, 2012 at 3:55 PM UTC

curve turn round. only to fined straight there. then circle, who was straights uncle. curve knew him well and was allowed to past. past was a munite. curve was confused. You have to move or you can not win at the time.

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Aug. 10. 1653. Answer me when I call God of my righteousness; In straights and in distress Thou didst me disinthrall And set at large; now spare, Now pity me, and hear my earnest prai’r. Great ones how long will ye My glory have in scorn How long be thus forlorn Still to love vanity, To love, to seek, to prize Things false and vain and nothing else but lies? Yet know the Lord hath chose Chose to himself a part The good and meek of heart (For whom to chuse he knows) Jehovah from on high Will hear my voyce what time to him I crie. Be aw’d, and do not sin, Speak to your hearts alone, Upon your beds, each one, And be at peace within. Offer the offerings just Of righteousness and in Jehovah trust. Many there be that say Who yet will shew us good? Talking like this worlds brood; But Lord, thus let me pray, On us lift up the light Lift up the favour of thy count’nance bright. Into my heart more joy And gladness thou hast put Then when a year of glut Their stores doth over-cloy And from their plenteous grounds With vast increase their corn and wine abounds. In peace at once will I Both lay me down and sleep For thou alone dost keep Me safe where ere I lie As in a rocky Cell Thou Lord alone in safety mak’st me dwell.

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1.4k

Aug. 10. 1653. Answer me when I call God of my righteousness; In straights and in distress Thou didst me disinthrall And set at large; now spare, Now pity me, and hear my earnest prai’r. Great ones how long will ye My glory have in scorn How long be thus forlorn Still to love vanity, To love, to seek, to prize Things false and vain and nothing else but lies? Yet know the Lord hath chose Chose to himself a part The good and meek of heart (For whom to chuse he knows) Jehovah from on high Will hear my voyce what time to him I crie. Be aw’d, and do not sin, Speak to your hearts alone, Upon your beds, each one, And be at peace within. Offer the offerings just Of righteousness and in Jehovah trust. Many there be that say Who yet will shew us good? Talking like this worlds brood; But Lord, thus let me pray, On us lift up the light Lift up the favour of thy count’nance bright. Into my heart more joy And gladness thou hast put Then when a year of glut Their stores doth over-cloy And from their plenteous grounds With vast increase their corn and wine abounds. In peace at once will I Both lay me down and sleep For thou alone dost keep Me safe where ere I lie As in a rocky Cell Thou Lord alone in safety mak’st me dwell.

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To begin with, We have YOU, And we have Me. And we also have THEM, THEY, THEIRS THOSE, WE AND US. As well, we have: SOGIES Asexuals Allies Intersexes Bisexuals Lesbians Gays Homosexuals Pansexuals Queers Straights Heterosexuals Gender Binaries Afabs Amabs Agenders Androgynes Gender Blenders Bigenders Cisgenders Cross-dressers Drag Queens Drag Kings Enbies Gender Dysphoria Gender fluids Gender Non-conformists Gender Queers Gender Variants Non-Binaries Questioners Transgenders Transitions Transsexuals Two-Sprits... and LGBTQIA+ (Flora and Fauna?) Does Genesis have anything right?

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Nov 30, 2023

Nov 30, 2023 at 10:35 AM UTC

Alphabet People and Others

To begin with, We have YOU, And we have Me. And we also have THEM, THEY, THEIRS THOSE, WE AND US. As well, we have: SOGIES Asexuals Allies Intersexes Bisexuals Lesbians Gays Homosexuals Pansexuals Queers Straights Heterosexuals Gender Binaries Afabs Amabs Agenders Androgynes Gender Blenders Bigenders Cisgenders Cross-dressers Drag Queens Drag Kings Enbies Gender Dysphoria Gender fluids Gender Non-conformists Gender Queers Gender Variants Non-Binaries Questioners Transgenders Transitions Transsexuals Two-Sprits... and LGBTQIA+ (Flora and Fauna?) Does Genesis have anything right?

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it was that i was. gurgling a valorous *** of cells at the bottom of the notched brick habitat of sickly algebra. and i and. with all the dirt meticulously skeletal. trenchant chaotic lips blathering skinny vocal animals. the smooth monkeys pinstripe about the square in my needle city. well and i am an we. with your habitual pocket of blood and dust in correct lumps small and large proportionately spitted on your ideal, at my hips your hips(hand in hand). we walk bythe specific straights towering sky breakers hollering reflective skin. the neon electric residue of light smacks my eyelets. and some ****** **** with the night air agreeably. but i,m a yours and only. yes. so let's make some drips of clear tremulous benedictions to this vibrant lovely hell

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Oct 6, 2010

Oct 6, 2010 at 12:07 PM UTC

patrick-wakefield-1

it was that i was

it was that i was. gurgling a valorous *** of cells at the bottom of the notched brick habitat of sickly algebra. and i and. with all the dirt meticulously skeletal. trenchant chaotic lips blathering skinny vocal animals. the smooth monkeys pinstripe about the square in my needle city. well and i am an we. with your habitual pocket of blood and dust in correct lumps small and large proportionately spitted on your ideal, at my hips your hips(hand in hand). we walk bythe specific straights towering sky breakers hollering reflective skin. the neon electric residue of light smacks my eyelets. and some ****** **** with the night air agreeably. but i,m a yours and only. yes. so let's make some drips of clear tremulous benedictions to this vibrant lovely hell

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There are some mornings When I look at you asleep And know, In fact, That you are not, But thinking through Those steps and plans That occupy your resting state Before you have to face the day, Propelling into action All and more there is to do, All and more that must be done. Do know I so admire the tenacity You hold, the way you navigate The shoals of life’s narrow seaway Through salty straights and tidal floes, Your own pilot Keeping faith with the hand-drawn chart of the diary on the notice board. Dearest, I am lost at sea, My small boat sail-less, Drifting, turning this way and that. As you rose from our bed That hand you placed On my shoulder seemed For the briefest moment A tweek on the rudder. Brought into the wind And before the canvas fills, There was a moment’s calm A second’s rest.

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Oct 8, 2012

Oct 8, 2012 at 2:45 AM UTC

There are some mornings

There are some mornings When I look at you asleep And know, In fact, That you are not, But thinking through Those steps and plans That occupy your resting state Before you have to face the day, Propelling into action All and more there is to do, All and more that must be done. Do know I so admire the tenacity You hold, the way you navigate The shoals of life’s narrow seaway Through salty straights and tidal floes, Your own pilot Keeping faith with the hand-drawn chart of the diary on the notice board. Dearest, I am lost at sea, My small boat sail-less, Drifting, turning this way and that. As you rose from our bed That hand you placed On my shoulder seemed For the briefest moment A tweek on the rudder. Brought into the wind And before the canvas fills, There was a moment’s calm A second’s rest.

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I wonder why everyone can't just flat-out, God-blessed, love each other- freely, purely, and explosively- why are some people allowed to hold hands on the street and others must keep it in the privacy of their homes some bodies must be hidden and others can be exposed some kisses must be kept secret from those who love you the most some heartbeats must happen outside of your own house some moments cannot exist in the presence of others and some lovers can only love a certain type of other lovers. Why is it that I must be fearful in a group of people that they can see my brainwaves and know what I am feeling and that it would be dangerous if they knew? Why must it be this way that I have to be in the vast minority and that the chances of me finding someone to love is minuscule and difficult; everyone is at a different stage regarding my certain type of love, and it carries a baggage straight people don't have it carries a complication, a heartbreaking rope of knots and pain and confusion and 'do I even feel this way' because you have been taught that you shouldn't and 'why isn't there straight pride' and 'just don't shove it down my throat' these type of misunderstandings create this impossible disharmony 'stop queering the straights' 'oh so you're basically a lesbian' no. I am not a lesbian- please stop classifying me and while you're at it, please stop acting differently around me because you're scared I'm into you chances are, I'm not. Please stop asking me why it's necessary for me to come out and say it, its because every single other person, me included, is assumed to be straight, and makes comments about dating boys and just boys and it's this eternal 'no homo' and my own parents want me to bear children and it's part of me, okay? It's me and it's my self expression and it isn't shoving it down your throat I just want to know that I can still be completely me and still be completely loved, that's all, that's why I have to say it out loud, because it carries with it a kind of suffocation that builds and builds because everything around you pushes you down and tears at your foundation and when you finally say it, there's a pain that's gone that you know will never hurt again but it will always sting, little daggers when your friends won't get quite as close as they used to and your mom gives you different looks in public or I am constantly misunderstood and misperceived and it's scary, it's a scary world for us, it's a scary world for us, it's a scary world for us and it will be that way until we speak loud enough that we are heard.

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Sep 25, 2014

Sep 25, 2014 at 11:15 AM UTC

sexuality rant- not really a poem

I wonder why everyone can't just flat-out, God-blessed, love each other- freely, purely, and explosively- why are some people allowed to hold hands on the street and others must keep it in the privacy of their homes some bodies must be hidden and others can be exposed some kisses must be kept secret from those who love you the most some heartbeats must happen outside of your own house some moments cannot exist in the presence of others and some lovers can only love a certain type of other lovers. Why is it that I must be fearful in a group of people that they can see my brainwaves and know what I am feeling and that it would be dangerous if they knew? Why must it be this way that I have to be in the vast minority and that the chances of me finding someone to love is minuscule and difficult; everyone is at a different stage regarding my certain type of love, and it carries a baggage straight people don't have it carries a complication, a heartbreaking rope of knots and pain and confusion and 'do I even feel this way' because you have been taught that you shouldn't and 'why isn't there straight pride' and 'just don't shove it down my throat' these type of misunderstandings create this impossible disharmony 'stop queering the straights' 'oh so you're basically a lesbian' no. I am not a lesbian- please stop classifying me and while you're at it, please stop acting differently around me because you're scared I'm into you chances are, I'm not. Please stop asking me why it's necessary for me to come out and say it, its because every single other person, me included, is assumed to be straight, and makes comments about dating boys and just boys and it's this eternal 'no homo' and my own parents want me to bear children and it's part of me, okay? It's me and it's my self expression and it isn't shoving it down your throat I just want to know that I can still be completely me and still be completely loved, that's all, that's why I have to say it out loud, because it carries with it a kind of suffocation that builds and builds because everything around you pushes you down and tears at your foundation and when you finally say it, there's a pain that's gone that you know will never hurt again but it will always sting, little daggers when your friends won't get quite as close as they used to and your mom gives you different looks in public or I am constantly misunderstood and misperceived and it's scary, it's a scary world for us, it's a scary world for us, it's a scary world for us and it will be that way until we speak loud enough that we are heard.

Continue reading...