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Matt Shaw May 2017
squeal my nerves,
study me

why i chase this vanity,
is it so unbecoming me?
i can only think it's my final form unfurling

because i know you are,
but future, are you? i'm left with a desire
study me,
study me.

i wanted you to study me.
Shaine Fraz Jul 2017
He's known to flip a bat on occasion
it's blatant
-- radiating cool kid,
a mutant?

holy cardinal like:
who bare rib?
fresh cut new did,
said -- who is this?

slow tread, wrangled thee
there's a 4x4 in his 20/20,
he asked -- “double play?”
the kid ran away

kept pace enough for super stardom
baring set backs
he's set,
lack the vision but he's starting running back,

ran back to the house of worship,
***** housed adolescence,
children they're just victims
with an unnatural talents,

ravenous,
an unnatural predator,
apex,
believed in --

shot blocks and safe ***, fingers latex,
washed him from his feet to my index,
He's speechless,
forgiven,

it's blatant,
coverage hidden,
and what's written is
-- this too shall pass,

as he quoted scripture,
his hand on the right shoulder,
Nearer,
he gets nearer,

meter,
100 meter,
still not older or sober,
And too young to know what ******* was

but,
one 'hell' of an athlete,
sadly
his pastor praised his ministries,
monstrosities.
© 2017 by S Fraz All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of S Fraz
Leigh Apr 2015
For Idil Ibrahim
In memory of Tim Hetherington - 1970 - 2011

I cannot stay and speak my truth while the front line has no voice.
The carpet doesn't share substance with the blood-clumped
dust of Liberia; Red wine doesn't stain nations and it hasn't
changed the world.

I cannot stay and walk these steps while the fragile youth stand.
Our Sunday morning route doesn't cover landscapes of wounds
and bodies; Central Park has never felt a thousand welted
feet march for death.

I cannot stay and see your face while molten plastic scars her world.
Your delicate eyes have never seen the darkness of a child's grief;
Our democracy cannot fathom the searing, slow drip after a family
massacred.

I cannot stay and feel worthy of your love while injustice goes unseen.
My lens has immortalised what we held dear, but is yet to capture
the human condition; I spoke to you like I spoke to them;
Through decades of mortar fire I spoke to them.
.

Inspired by the life of Tim Hetherington, a frontline war photographer and journalist. His story is well told in 'Which way is the front line from here?' A truly remarkable person.

.
remington carter Dec 2016
were i to eat the sun and become
like gods in high and low spaces
would i enter a new room and dine
with others like me
or with others above me?

what it was to have no one above
with the truest of spaces in halls and windows
my mind reaching the edge of space
losing it ever since

i, in an emptiness that exists.
linger on corners in my boxmind,
it is always the same when the
antipsychotics wear off—
good good goodnight
ever so cryptic!
Life story to tell.
Jackson's daughter at a moribund.
Applied in minds that her time has fell.
Astonish and confused by her white study.

She ran faster than time.
Never had time to lax.
How all the neighbors saw her climb.
Black snow for white duck in ponds.

Vexed congregation sat, no more to see.
To sit around a preen set scheme.
Rain falling on roofs that cries.
Why bell rang, what it signifies.

In pain and dispel of what really caught her,
Was it the flu or the brother of life took her.
And bells rang, sad songs were sang,
For approaching the white study of Jackson's daughter.
Naptural Mermaid Jul 2018
Would I be wrong to call this a blessing?
As his fine self continues professing
“Hear me dear Lord, I plea
This is my testimony”
Distracted by sinful thoughts
Praying I don’t get caught
I felt his gaze as he licks his lips
Yearning, for I know he wants to take a sip
“Let us pray”, the pastor cries
As I fall to my knees
Lord, please wash away the vulgarity
Sweating because we were in this very position last night
“Let the church say ‘Amen’” , the pastor cries
As I stand tall in sin
He hugs me
As my heart races from within
******, I think I’ll just blame this on Christian Mingle
Jolan Lade Jun 2018
Shirt on, tie and suit
Rushing out the door in new shoes in hot pursuit after the buss
Onboard, looking for a free seat
Looking for new people to meet
Of the buss, rushing to Uni
Have to be there before eight
I'm late, guess that's just fate
Ready to study, human philosophy
Human evolution, what a catastrophe
A real equation, philosophical question, then the answer and a spicy evaluation
Not what we thought, something we forgot?
I guess not
Thinking really hard
Well, I'm not all that smart...
Sophia Jun 2018
As we sit down to our dinners,
as we open our romance books,
people die.

We sip our water;
their guts spill open.
We study our notes;
their planes crash.

We live;
they die.
We breathe;
they suffocate.

We are testaments to chance,
to luck, to possibility.

We are not products of God.

We are blind goats trotting on our path
before we perish, suddenly,
and vanish into death.
...are a study on a subject matter
that someone else has undertaken
on your behalf.
flowerfeastie Jul 2018
pavement cracks under his feet
when he walks.
smoke falls from his hair
when he moves.
his hands are made of stone
his veins are dripping mud
his eyes are black and blown.

he's a walking black hole
******* all the light of the world in
breathing in warmth and fire
breathing out dust and ashes.

but
he's still young in the crinkles by his smiling eyes
in the high pitch of his screams
in the smallest curls of his hair.

but
he's aged in the purple under his eyes
in the tilt of his disappointed mouth
in the rough tips of his fingers
in the weight of his stone-carved bones.

he is many things
and looks like so many more
he is big
and he is beautiful
and the earth cracks under
his feet
and the flowers die in his wake.

and still
he swears he's bathed in darkness
but still made of sun.
this is literally about the person you're thinking this is about.
s Nov 2018
Egg
you sit on my back
like a chicken on an egg
with a mocking flap,
shuffle and a wiggle
tucked and stacked -
chuckle and a giggle.
both - joke and cuddle
- die as they're written though;
but could I risk to memory -
forgetting that tableau ?
--

as I sit to study
our curiosities -
creating patterns & poems
of contradicting absurdities;
listening to the jugalbandi
of predictability & tease,
instigating the battle
between curiosity & belief,
how we manoeuver differences
with a pursued kind of ease -
love sits quiet,
amused but revealed,
its appetite appeased -
with a wholesome kind of meal.
Empire Jun 11
Procrastinated all day
So here we go...
Caffeine high
Music so loud
Laptop out
Calculator ready
Let do this.
cohen Mar 10
i read the ovid and the sappho and
try to pretend i don’t see myself
reflected in every poem
achilles and patroclus rip apart my chest and heart and
i try to hide that their love [their tragedy] has left me bleeding

i go home and memorise auden’s lullaby
in the safety of midnight and my bedroom and i never recite it to anyone but i hold it close to my heart and keep it there

i’m not a tragedy yet but there’s still time

who’s to say if i guard my copy of howl a little too closely
it’s just a book but the pages and the words have sharp edges and they’re dangerous

i have to
hide from the open passion, from the naked light of their pure love
of their impure love
of their gentle emotions that ripped apart relationships and took lives

if i don’t see that passion in myself am i lying or just not looking hard enough
if i distance myself to examine the meter i can shift the magnifying glass away from introspection? if i talk about rhyme scheme and enjambmemt can i  avoid myself?
Patricia Arches Sep 2013
Choices

This ever blotting simple thing that makes up things

as small as a mouse but also as deadly as sin itself

A simple formula of cause and effect

An effect

A result

A consequence

No pretences

Or fences that guard our decisions

Keeps it safe for being just a choice

For it is no longer just a choice

It is not that simple, see there is a formula to remember

An economic study to this choice where c=e

because

For every cause there is an effect

For every cause there is an effect

For every cause there is an effect

Let it dwell in your mind and affect you

Because that is where it all begins

Let us open up your mind and there we will find that

Alongside that implanted thought are a plethora

Of more thoughts that are placed beside your dreams

Nestled in between your hopes, skilfully intertwined with your visions

There they all lay

Our mind is our drive that takes us down

A road that is long and winding

A highway down to our hands

Which eventually become steered by, picked up with strings ever so delicately like a puppet

Held by that one thought

Your actions are birthed from your thoughts

We see these to be choices

To study these choices would be economics, to understand them would be sympathy

To take a leader who steals from his country

Or a mom who abandons her child to keep herself alive

And view this as sad, as a cry for help?

How and why?

Oh no! We do not stop at just those two ghastly choices

For this is a study of many

Choices

Of things that have happened to determine what will and to save us from what has been

Let us open up this book

And flip each page to see what decrees and laws

Revolutions and words put down on paper

Have anything to do with where we stand today

For the choices of the past still linger here

Mixed in with the choices of the present

Creating this air that we breathe in and out every single day

We would be infuriated with rage as we scan through the pages of this book of choices

A chapter of injustice

A paragraph of cruelty

A statement of selfishness

A line of adultery

But, wait! Oh, let us stop on this

One

story

For this I do not even understand

See I have studied choices, and put them into many formulas

To see the effects and the causes of each

but this story is different

For it is not just one chapter

One statement

One line

It is the whole story and each is intricately woven within it

In fact, the book is titled for this one story

And to begin it would be to start off with a choice

By a God

To send his son

To die for men

Men whose choices we see throughout the whole book

Men whose choices are vile and selfish and ruthless

Sinful men

*****

And yet a God so Holy and pure still sends down his son in His likeness for these grimy men??

See, if we picture it. It is a white cloth, pure and clean not just dipped but completely submerged in dirt

Now that is not a choice that I would make

But it was made

A man so untainted and holy

Came down

To die for the sinner

Who stole from the helpless woman in the ally

Who murdered an innocent child in the womb

Who told a tiny white lie to his mom and dad and gave himself away to drugs and peer pressure

Who lusted after the world and what seemed good but really was death covered in make up whispering

in the promises lie after lie

To die for the sinner who is you

You

Jesus chose to die for you

On that cross, with his hands bound by nails and his feet the same

And with every last breath, last drop of blood and whip of the chain

he thought of you

and that is a choice that no study, no analyzation could ever make sense of

but it was done

it is done

is what he said for you as his arms were spread out wide

and all your choices

he negated the effects, and ultimately the effect of death

and formulated a solution of eternal life instead

for this one choice

changed all the rest

Now, think, think it through

Every choice you make

and every choice that was made is made brand new, infused with grace

Remember this for when there is a test the formula of cause and effect

Still stand true

but also remember Jesus who did what you had to do

for you may make many more flawed choices without a thought

Therefore go down on bended knees gaze at the cross

where stood the Father’s son

never a doubt that this choice for you was a wrong one

that any effect wouldn’t be worth it

you are worth any effect

you are an effect

of that one choice made on the hills of calvary

look up at the cross when your lewd effects force out the mistakes of your personal choices

then resurface that one choice made 2000 years before

bring it up amongst all the confusion and chaos

study it’s economic worth

hold it dear

smile at it even for

that senseless,

unexplainable,

brilliant,

grand,

intricate,

lovel­y,

merciful,

gracious,

holy,

divine,

choice

is all for you
cxbra Oct 2018
the amount of water you are in
does not matter when you are drowning
even when you are conscious of it
it only takes six inches of water to make vehicles play musical chairs
but whats sad about it is
when the music stops
and your heart is no longer there
there will be no place left to go
you will feel like you are drowning
you must open your eyes and let go of the fear
you must sing your own songs so the music lasts forever
you must learn to swim against the current
yes, love is the healing component
but too much of anything can **** you
i just pray that you've let go before the next tide comes
ashley mckee Feb 2018
I am notebooks stained with coffee and blots of black and blue ink and
I am pages ripped and torn out of frustration

I am friday nights spent watching old movies and sipping hot cocoa from some old mug that caught your eye

I am black eyeliner and ocean waves and
soft grey v-necks and stockings

I am the songs you play
when you want to hear the
melody and not recognize the tune

I am fairy lights at midnight
when the clouds obscure the sight of the stars
I am those stars
and sometimes, I am the clouds

I am dark red nail polish to match dark circles under eyes:
I am mysterious in uninteresting ways

I am dented silver crowns and rubies

I am sweater paws and fatal flaws

I am beautiful chaos:
chipped paint and pulled threads
one tug away from unraveling

broken hearts and waterfalls
rose petals
2 a.m. phone calls

I am the love you gave
and the love you took
and I am the love I found in myself
after you were gone
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2018
the angel amongst us

~for Alexander, master splasher~

flexibility is important when poetry writing in a warm tub and a long day ahead is scheduled; so willingly accept the autocorrect
for I am both an experienced poet and bath soaker and
believer in wondrous mystery and unexpected fumbles
that lead to to miracle touchdowns

~•~

the two mathematicians examine the angle, measure the degree of difference at intersection and bless it with an identity,
calling it by its name,
perhaps obtuse, perhaps right, perhaps both

two sets of eyes examine the angle,
study its ****** expression

the old man says:
see the angle on the clock formed by the big handle on the twelve and the little hand on the eight?

this is angle of eight o’clock:
time to stop the splashing and start the get-readying
for we have miles to go before the ocean can say hello!

little angel says angle no go
and slashes the water with both
hands to establish the firmness of his views
and change Einstein’s time from present to future

the angle depends on the perspective of the viewer

the old poet comprehends leaving a warm tub is a regretful thing

but he measures the degree of difference at this
intersection
of time and bath and blesses it with an identity

“time to go”

the angle of my angel is now 2 pointed arms, pointed straight up,
at the twelve o'clock,

as he stands up in fevered protest,
my arms sweep his little legs to
a point at eight o’clock,
angel, commenting on his swift flight
disputes the grandfathers physics

"no go now,
now go later^"

though the angle is unchanged
the perspective of time and space
(and traffic),
yet differs

one sees an angle,
the angel sees time
eternally folding in on itself


that is the angle amongst us
^Surprising as it may be to most non-scientists and even to some scientists, Albert Einstein concluded in his later years that the past, present, and future all exist simultaneously. In 1952, in his book Relativity, in discussing Minkowski's Space World interpretation of his theory of relativity, Einstein writes:

Since there exists in this four dimensional structure [space-time] no longer any sections which represent "now" objectively, the concepts of happening and becoming are indeed not completely suspended, but yet complicated. It appears therefore more natural to think of physical reality as a four dimensional existence, instead of, as hitherto, the evolution of a three dimensional existence.
Eno Feb 14
I’m thirsty
For a Life that throws obstacles at me.
When I shall dig out the courage
To dodge and conquer them
In the name of progress,
For some kind of benevolence
That I’m not quite sure of yet.

I propel forwards
Only for my eyes to meet,
For my nose
to graze-A ladder
Appears
Frozen
Between me and my next step.

Who I Am

and

Who I need to be.

Up and down I go,
Over the edge,
My feet barely touch
the groun
d.When a phantom wheelbarrow
Careers it’s way into the back
Of my knees. And I must fight gravity -
Jump up and out the side!

Oh, but
Scrambling
In this way
Both thrills and stilts;
Exhausts the very foundations
Mighty seeds of ambition were sown on,
Till there are no nutrients left
In the body
For a common ****
Even to bloom
Just
T...i..r...e...d
End-less-ly
Tir - - - ed
.
.

I rest here for a while
It gives me time
To really look around.
The man to my right
Just runs around the same 400m track
Every day.
Every month,
Into years.
He seems happy
But he doesn’t seem to really go anywhere New

Curiosity and discovery
May lead to misery
Beckon the shadowy places
To spread like cancer inside of me
And scoop hope
Like a melon baller
Out of my cavities.
But the man to the right of me
Never knows.

So I tell myself
Maybe he doesn’t have the capacity;
Does that mean
That he does not feast on the senses
Of each fruitful experience
As I ?
Dissecting every moment
Searching for beauty and cruelty
That I might consume its knowledge
And be led somewhere
Higher up
To a room brimming
With sisters and brothers
And as I open the gold embossed doors
Solid Oak
I will rejoice
Because I have found my people
And we will fight
The good fight
Together.
Ron Conway Jul 18
I think about existence
And I look for what holds true.
I feel assured that I exist
But I've questions about you.

The "Row your boat" philosophy
Does nothing for my quest.
If I have dreamed this all along,
Why do I still need rest?

Forget about the tangibles.
Let's give that stuff a pass
And think of love and beauty;
Those things that have no mass.

The mountain seems so beautiful
Against an azure sky.
You might see it as a pile of rocks
Within your pale mind's eye.

Did I invent that beauty just
To fit some need of mine
Or does beauty have an essence
No matter how you might opine?

And what of love? Did it exist
Before it struck your heart?
Well now you know, without it,
Your world would fall apart.
                        rc
E Prime is a language discipline that avoids the verb "to be"
Ken Pepiton Sep 3
Learn how to detect, contain and mitigate threats faster,  

that' why our kind studies war.



War against chaos and all it's spawn

Since the dawn

Never lasts forever.

Ever-y story's hero in the end

Wins.

No exceptions. That is the rule.

On the scale of grav-it-a-tional forces,

This muthas-hell-vier'n hell i'self



In yo face spell chick ain't nobody

Got no papers on me

I am the teller of this story in this book

And you, there, are the readers.

Welcome to my collection of clichés that click

In time to the echoes of the spheres



A.I. *******. In a gotta d'feata! We allus try umph, first.



Say you put a spell on me

Correct me if you must, but

Later, spell chick.



Now we have guests who've never known

A hatter at all, mad or otherwise.

I have known three, all saner than me,

You shall see



What I mean but

Do not fear

Fear is a terrible thing right

Here here

We need God's Grace by everyname

Any of you can think or say or know fore sure

Carries hope and peace to nullify victory.



That legend was lost but indeed did hap

Upon a time when songs

Lived the stories and the stories were legend.



So few survived the chaos at Babel and

Those few that did are t'ain'ted all to hell

One's I heard tell 'em as well

Say it ain's so. All to hell. T'ain't

Whacha thank ye know ye know



Crazy old coot pushin' her Safe Way Cart

Cat-a-corner from the zoot suit shoppe

To Walgreen's, middle o'fift n'Broad Way

Downtown LA, back in the day



Can you see that man. That really happened

Jus' the way you

Saw it.



Onliest thing is it only happened now then



Get that it's like getting' all wrapped up

In light no shadow at all

Doubt to the power of the farthest prime

Fails to fragment such light

From the outside.

Ever-y fire-y dart that twisted sucker shoots…

Quenched by the light.

Good news always seen from every perspective

Same thing, perfect

Peace full nothing broken nothing missing

Shalom

Get that, too.



Now, just watching old Mrs. Crazicuk

Makin' Her Safe Way Cross Broad Way



Famous image. It looks exactly like you imagined

It would

Had you imagined it and

Not just me I mean

I think we all are lonely for

No reason for some reason



Notice Mrs. Crazicuk's book cover

Upper right corner

JESUS SAVES in ten foot tall daylit neon

Top'o Fift' n'Hill. That's real.



I got a picture. From the internet.

(Hello Poetry don't take images, so Google-it)

Look real

close

If someday somebody explains that  

Castle Gothic crenelated thing in the back ground.  

that  



I know ain't real.

Please point out I point out  

the otherwise overlooked – image

If you ever see what I mean



I imagine there's more mystery  

than here at the moment



You see we wee are at peace  

ever-when you find us

Lying

Legends have never turbed us in such a way

As to cloud the waters  

Stirrin' mud

o' cludin' weak light to simulate more dark,  an old trick/

an angel-like message troubles the water
stirs up the muck and mire.

Jump in

Then walk home the long way



This book we're in, life we're in, what ye may call it, we say here,

So it is.

Amen.



Little people. Legendary little people survived

Babel's chaos?

Not that I know, no.
From January 2017, this is like a flashback in a Series, to a scene that happened ages ago, which led to now, by way of AI.--- I reread post posting and remembered using that picture  on a book cover you can see at https://www.amazon.com/IDLE-WORDS-Radioman-Chronicles-Book-ebook/dp/B07F3P1Y8G/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=ken+pepiton&qid=1567484904&s=gateway&sr=8-2
Wordsmith Oct 5
Blue ink was no friend
Blue ink was the most boring plan
For the trees and hills Suzy ran
When Mama came with a stick in her hand

For months and years Suzy despaired
This forced acquaintance she wished to be spared
This Hulk of a character Mama'd personify
This waste of time, she knew not why

I just wanna be free, Suzy lamented
An uproarious laughter, with which she was greeted
Why do you act all so tormented, said this voice
Without blue ink, you will be mistreated

How do you carve a path of your own
How do you enforce a right you wouldn't have known
How do you right a wrong you don't condone
How do you condone life when left alone

To the books and pages Suzy ran
Devouring much material in the given span
In a solid colour, she saw a world of wonder
In its simple strokes, there was no more to be coaxed

In happiness and despair, Suzy was elevated
In health and sickness, she knew to be liberated
In company and solitude, Suzy was educated
In wealth and poverty, she knew she had profited

Blue ink had granted her the highest of privileges
For to live well, is to live with choice
A coveted privilege, with which we rejoice
Angge Dec 2015
His study, with books of various kinds,
A dim light, his only source—
To keep himself from going blind
To keep himself on course

In Langdon's mind,
Whatever stood behind this force
Is yet to be defined.
Day 3 - Find the nearest book (of any kind). Turn to page 8. Use the first ten full words on the page in a poem. You may use them in any order, anywhere in the poem.

Book used: "Angels & Demons" by Dan Brown
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