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Magdalyn May 2015
It's almost 10:30 pm and I am thinking about the woman on the radio
who sang about how she's made of "dirt and stardust"
and, sleepily, I wrote those lyrics on the back of my sketchbook
And about how I wish I had an
accent,
every word drenched with butter
or spices
the flavor of my country
but instead I just have
grease.
As I'm writing this the flashlight's
spot of light
is half-spilling onto my wall,
"Helena Beat" is stuck in my
head, and has to stay there because
I wrote it down.
I know tomorrow I will wake up
with a cramped hand
and remember that I wrote.
look back on it, and think that it is
stupider
than I
thought.
written 10-29-14 10:37 pm
Poetoftheway Oct 2018
how do you know (when a broken human can be fixed)


https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2644586/how-do-you-know-when-a-human-is-too-broken/

supermarket checkout line, so lazy broken down dressed,
I’m probably arrestible for disturbing the peace,
my haired piled, and held together by a broken clip,
makeup at home in
a drawer labeled ‘why bother’
my t shirt, don’t please look too closely,
yesterday’s coffee spillage outline
only mostly gone,
and the skinny jeans that felt inappropriate
ten pounds ago,
now looking semi-completely ridiculous

is this a tv show?
wallet, a twenty and a single,
who knew a pound of ground blue mountain
cost the better part of the the twenty
in that case no need for a gallon of milk
and *** a box of chocolate frosted donuts
silently slid far far away,
evidence of a guilty plea of irresponsibility resignation

short $2.42 (cut up the credit cards)
and no convenient pit to fall into
when the teenager cashier snickers,
when a sam elliot voice says here ya are,
stammering a no, a thank you, and thinking getaway direction

truck safely, made it,
knock on the window
sam elliot soundalike is a lookalike as well
standing outside with my wallet in hand,
two heads taller than my ex-petite figurine

more stammering ******* could I look any stupider

but inside a piece of brown shopping bag torn
with ten whole digits
I’ve never seen prior to this disaster
saying call when you want to return my $2.42

turns out he got, no, he is glue and paste,
an eraser man for fine lines and sad times,
and a lasso to keep me held together,
a pocket red handkerchief hanging half out
of his back pocket, never without, calls it his tear catcher

pulled out that too tight blues-blouse
from back of my closet
that still complements my complexion,
wear it ever time that day rolls around

just dumb luck ain’t much of an answer
so I’ll rephrase, dumb luck is in the everything
cause his number was 917-242-2424
and he is a gambler in matters of the heart

bust his ***** when he says he’s a lucky man,
reply he ain’t got no luck at all
compared to me on that daft day

and every daft day thereafter
I glue his lips shut to mine, no escaping,
and paste a new $2.42
into his wallet
when he is sleeping mine,
no erasing our lines,
just redrawing them deeper and finer,
just making sure my
dumb luck is working overtime
Grace Jordan Sep 2014
There's a feeling I've felt hindering on the tip of my tongue, twirling with sawdust at the end of my bed. Its tingled my toes and tickled my nose and killed all hopes that this is just happiness.

Sleep is for figments and products of sanity, neither of which I can claim heritage. Well perhaps figments in the waking hours of the darkness, but that is a tale for another time.

I can feel his fingertips stroking my sides, reminding me what it is to feel human and vulnerable and perfect. Didn't know he boosted me ego and turned me into the self absorbed maniac you see before you today. Tyrant, remembrr? Oh wait, that's another tale altogether again.

I ramble in the night, in the morning, all the time. My thoughts wander with echoing clarity to encompass the truth about me; not everything is quite right. The teacups are lopsided at the unbirthday table tonight.

Yet again, speaking in riddles and stories unbeknownst to you. Stupid me, stupid Grace, stupider you. Why are you so open to my madness anyway? Maybe you're the crazy one.

This sick godlike embodiment I feel is one I forget isn't real, isn't me, isn't life. But wait. Its a part of me, so perhaps it is real as well? Call a jury, wake a judge, there must be a verdict on my elation. Am I a minor deity or are the synapses playing some cruel joke on my heartstrings?

Heartstrings, why did I bring them into this? I have shut them off for now, for they are dumb and deaf to honesty and logic and do whatever the hell they feel. Or is it whatever the heaven? I forget sometimes where the real misery is, or how the expression goes. I've never quite gotten everything right, being as upside down as I.

Insomnia brings out the manic in me, and I know its not real, but for a moment, just a moment, I belong. I am real, I am loved, I am powerful. Weak little Grace is no more, with her fears and contradictions. Just strength is left, and it is glorious.

Just remember not to let the heffelumps get you in the night, for they are the true evil behind your honey ***. Or am I a heffelump? I can't remember anymore.

This is going nowhere, everywhere, somewhere.

Wake me up inside before I destroy myself, or simply perpetuate my perfection with a caress of your hand. Whatever suits your fancy.

Call me Aphrodite and we'll call it a night after hours of mindblowing ***. But you expected that all along, of course you did, because you know my bones better than we both realize.

When you put your hands on me I feel ****. But yet again, right now I an perpetually **** and twitchy and awake and fake. Dare you to kiss me anyway.

Dare you to see me, psychotics and all.

Bet you'll run like the rest, yet like all good hiders its refreshing to be found every once in awhile.

Find me, and see. See the monster behind my beautiful eyes. That's the day when you'll see what true danger looks like; me.

Insomnia makes me odd, but yet again I'm always odd.

Little miss muffet sat on her tuffet, eating her curds and craves, for a man betwixt her to tell her she's killer and make her a siren next day.

Forget, no, yes, its all I do. Its not how that goes, for sirens are certainly not temporary. I am certainly a black widow every day, not just each odd thursday.

Go to bed, Grace. I beg of you.

Close my eyes and say goodnight to the beloved moon, for the sun is nearly up and it certainly hates me, I am sure of it.

Just never forget all this is wrapped up in one little old me. No one seems to remember that until its far too late, so might as well run now, because otherwise little miss muffet here on her tuffet will be the death of you.
Bus Poet Stop May 2015
Restless hungry, found a tiny scrap of a brownie in the back of the refrigerator, wrapped in plastic about the size of a large 35 cent quarter.  
Gobbled up and gone.

Eye had purchased it a week ago, maybe more.  
Actually it was more like eye was held up at gunpoint by a sad young face for a large and green single dollar Bill.
In return, was bequeathed said brownie eye dropper-ful.

The  apartment I live in a big city, many apartments were recession empty for a long time.  But in the last few years, the empty apartments in the building were almost all sold to foreigners.  
Now the bldg is an amulet melted of the lucky overseas fortunate, those overseers overseas seizers, who come to reside in the most fabulous site in these United States...and buy a piece of the dream away from the be-headers, secret police or governments that decide you are now an enemy of the state, as of this morning. No judgement.

anyway, this doe eyed child of estimated six or eight years of age accosts me in our large lobby, proffers me the brownie scrap for a Bill.

me a sucker of a salesman myself, and an eye affician-doe, well those doefuls, those eyes, no one could resist!

so eye asked her name,
but all she could say in
Anglais was...

"Brownie One Dollar?"

laughing out loud for no apparent cause,
the hanging about lobbyists looked at me staring...
Why was eye laughing?

laughing cause eye realized
this elfin child had become
fitfully but fully Americanized.

and I loved her eyes in mine, and when I see her periodically, I say:

"Hey! Brownie One Dollar, How are ya!"

and everyone snicker smiles at the old man with the even stupider grin upon his eyes.

That would be eye.
Drinking the vin in vignette
brownie salesman
her profitability now legendary, she travels in a pack and woe be to the poor fool entrapped in an elevator surround by fawns with a hungry look in their eyes....
MoMo Dec 2012
I hate this time of year.
Everyone's always singing
stupid christmas songs
and wearing even stupider sweaters.
People say 'bah humbug',
I say **** it.
I hate the cold and snow.
The getting totally twisted off of disgusting eggnog
and falling into bed with your best friend
only to regret it in the morning.
I hate that everyone's so giggly and rosy cheeked.
The old men in the malls posing as the
overweight **** that watches us all while we're sleeping.
I hate the gaudy wrapping
paper hiding pointless gifts
no one really needs.
And the people who're usually *******
kissing up to get something good.
I hate how lovey-dovey everyone is,
holding hands and snuggling in public places.
And how everyone has someone to kiss
when the ball drops on New Years.
Everyone but me.
“Chip!” Ernie bellowed.; “What do you want you stupid, *******?” Chip answered; “Who are you calling a stupid, *******? You're the real stupid, *******, not me!” Ernie exclaimed.; “Oh yeah?” Chip questioned.; “I'm not half the stupid, ******* that you are!” Ernie informed.; “Yes, you are!” Chip retorted.; “No, I'm not!” Ernie indignantly replied.; “I say you are!” Chip boldly proclaimed.; “No way am I a stupid, *******!” Ern, as he was hardly ever called, reasoned.; “Listen,” Chip began in earnest, “it's no secret around here, and you can ask Uncle Charley, that you are the dumbest and the stupidest ******* ever!”; Ernie stood up and faced Chip. “Well,” he began frankly, “Uncle Charley is senile so he's not able to judge who's the stupidest ******* here!”
   Just then  Rob, played by Don Grady, came in. “Hey Chip. Hey Ernie.”; “Hey Robbie,” Chip muttered. “Who's the stupidest *******: me or stupid, ******* Ernie?”; Rob put down the shoe box that he was carrying. “I guess Ernie is.”; “Thanks, Robbie,” Chip thanked Rob, thoroughly relieved because the issue of who is the stupidest of dumb *****, he or Ernie, was settled once and for all even though one must use stupider as the comparative (comparing 2) & stupidest as a superlative (comparing 3 or more); even though stupider & stupidest ain't even proper words.
Jack L Martin Sep 2018
Moonlit sky
Why
Do you try
To lie?

I see through
the treacherous
waste
of time and space

Saturn and Jupiter
make you look
stupider
You talk through Uranus

Milky way
You say?
Maybe
Some day!

Satellite
saddle bright
ride the horse
Ursa's delight

Universe
Witche's curse
Hide dark matter
In your purse

Atom, quark
In New York
Higgs-Boson
Keep your nose on

Big Bang
Big Crunch
Do not mention
The 12th dimension

Let's all send
our cars to Mars!
Maybe the aliens
Will choose ours?
Ellie Stelter Nov 2013
I used to bury myself in huge jackets.
I'd mope about and hate my curvy body,
hate the way my lips puffed,
my long hair, the way I was soft all over,
the way I was expected to shave
everything but my face.

I used to hate makeup and dresses,
girly movies and shoes and bobby pins.
I hated boybands. I hated pink things.
It took me a long time to realize that
I didn't actually hate these things.
I hated women.

Femininity was lesser. I was not good enough
because of my two X chromosomes,
because of my *****, because of my period.
I was weaker. I was stupider. I was
statistically less likely to succeed,
less likely to be important,
less likely to be loved.

These things weren't right. They were never true.
But it didn't matter, because nine-year-old me
believed them. My opinion didn't start to change
until I was thirteen and I wore a pretty dress
as a character in a home movie we were making
and I walked down the stairs and my friends
whispered whoa.

I began to understand then the power I had.
As a girl I was never lesser. I was never weaker.
Maybe physically, but that was more my personality,
and all those lies I'd told myself about success
about my importance about love
I began to reconsider.
I thought hey wait hold on
this can't be right, I'm not stupid, I'm not weak,
I'm not ugly and I'm not fat
and I'm not any of these things because
I'm a girl.

When I started to see myself as worthy of
other peoples' love, I realized I should love myself.
I don't hide my femininity away in huge jackets anymore.
I don't walk down the street fearful
of the people walking past who seem stronger.
Because in my lipstick and my cute heels,
I am in total control.
Geovanni Alfaro Jan 2013
I'm a dark and twisted guy
Who wants to shred El Burnside
With a bullet shot by *******
Like Erik Clapton best said it.

I'm on the Dark Side of the Moon
Smoking Pink Floyd listening to Cudders
Smoke anything to hyphen my mood
I'm a conartist who laughs at everyone's misadventures

But cries when something bad happens to my ancestors.

I listen to psychedelic music to put me on the Devil's Swing....so I can let my soul and spirit sleep.
A dose of ecstasy in any given music festival.
Sasquatch! Lollapalooza, a river dressed as an animal.
But I'm acting like a citizen of planet Jupiter.
Because of the way I've been living.......
I can't get any stupider.
arubybluebird Jul 2013
I really, really don't like myself sometimes. Most times. I like coffee, books, birds and flowers so much better. I've been listening to Ready, Able for the past four years. I'm still not alright. I'm no good at most things. Introspectiveness is not a talent. If I were a porcelain centerpiece, I'd scoot myself to the tables edge. My mum has reassured me that my head is not on right. My head, my least favorite accessory. I've yet to master the proper way of sock-folding. I've yet to master how to configure my heart. In less than five months time I'll be twenty-one. I get stupider with age. I like it when wine makes me dizzy. I wear old crazy-cat-lady coats in the summer because I can. My noir Remington is starting to build up dust. What use is it if not put to use? Useless, useless, useless like a harmonica without blow holes. I want to melt like ice cream in the sun of your pupils. Instead I sit here far from absent-minded, alone. I cannot be held still or perhaps I simply choose not to. If you wait too long for the others, I'll still be right here. Here, in the corridor of the memories we never had. I close my eyes in hope of seeing matters clearer. The world is composed of messy closets and ***** hands. Many youth wasted behind closed doors. Can we ever be sweet again? Will you hold my hand and mean it? Hollow voices frighten me but not as much as hypocrisy. I don't need to understand you, but I want to.
Lover, it's worth crying in your sleep if you've got somebody to dream about.
Zumwalt Fan Aug 2011
Something Bad

Something bad is coming
Worse than any Grand Funk Railroad Reunion Concert
Worse than watching a full episode of Meet the Kardashians
With all commercials included.

I not only have read about it
I can feel it
So much more bothersome than
Hay fever in May.

It's the Universal Fender ******
Havoc beyond compare
It's Universal Affliction and Ruination
Heavy weight and high-profile kind of stuff.

This universe is dumb
So much stupider than the armadillos that get hit by my little Fiat
This universe is worse than any teen age driver
Not watching where it goes
Or what is coming down the road.

Ten to the ten to the ten to the ten and more universes out there
Outnumbering all the cable channels both regular and High Def
More numerous than all the cockroaches in all the cities on the East Coast
Going any which way they please
Not planning ahead
Or working with the AAA or the highway safety department

More universes than every single observation ever made by every single person
More than every single argument between all the married couples
In all countries
On all existing planets
In all existing galaxies.

Each time you think of a possible universe, it exists!
Unless we all stop thinking there will be more and more and more.

Each universe moving
Some fast
Some even faster
Some inches apart from each other
Concealed behind some hidden dimension
About to turn the corner at full speed.

There's a collision
A crash
Not too far up the road
Every universe distracted
As if they are texting away
Following their own set of laws
Without regard for any right of way.

There's a smash-up coming up very soon
One universe piles into another
with one of those universes being ours in particular
The one that I live in.

I am scared
I know that adding a shoulder harness to my office chair
is not going to be enough.

I am terrified
I cannot figure out
as I make my last will and testament
who I can leave the house and dog to.

Today, tomorrow or maybe later
It is sure to happen
All my plans for no purpose
All my purposes to no point
I panic
Abandoning all my activities
Crawling into the attic
Taking a pen
A flashlight
And a notebook
And wondering
If there is any new thought
I can have that might make this all better
Without creating
One more
**** reckless
Out-of-control
universe.

--Zumwalt (2011)  (copied from www.zumpoems.com)
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2018
death, apparent,
or...
apparently so...
was never a concern to
concern oneself
with the debate
between a man,
and a god....
i,e.?
funny...

   the little **** sleeps
like a baby...

little ****?
a maine **** cat,
male,
extracted testicles...
falls asleep
listening to
the dead can dance...
only album favorite....
  
my cat favored
to fall asleep in half the time
it took to listen to the track...
you can state your
Apocalypse Now! counter
in half the time...

beginning with....
now!
           i'm done begging,
i'm imploring you...
added minutes?!
  michele campanella...
WAGNER's
       walhall
from,      das rheingold...

such esteemed people!
such awaiting people!
such... nuanced...
of what could be claimed as...
people...
            what wonder!
what ignominious
   ingenuity of retraction!
       to, have, fathomed!
      the last of what ia esteemed
to be deemed,
the, *least"...
              finest upon the finest,
and, supposedly,
no more,
that a utility of a hammer,
for whatever came the observation,
to make comprehension
of... the noun: nail,
and the adverb...
nailing it...
with the verb and noun
of final utility of: hammer...
dear... prospect...
of whatever was inclined
by your stressed ingenuity of fault...
how have you....
my... oh my...
          your creation wss
supposed to be more stupid
than the people you already deemed
stupider,
and already demanded
yourself to, despise?
         and your intelligent
"creation"...
wasn't supposed to notice this,
discrepancy?

now ensure you retell this narrative...
'mother...'
'yes, David...'
'play me... the raconteurs'
old enough.'

mother knows, best.
Raye Chung May 2014
All humans are broken inside
They are all just shattered glass
Held together
By some ****** up duct tape
The more they live
And move on in life
The more troublesome shards
Fall from them  
They rot slowly
Until they are dead
They are all dead men
Each with a due date
Carved on their hearts
That is when their debts are due
And they have nothing
But their soul
To pay the price of living
Humans think they're so smart
But really, they're just as brain dead
As the next species
If not stupider
They have their cliques and societies
Those cute little clubs
Where they harass anyone
Who is considered other or lesser
While the animals roam free
Living short but happy lives
Without a care in the world
Except for the destruction
That the humans cause
In the natural order
How can they be considered superior just because they can have thought?
Thought only leads to depression
Thought only leads to jealousy
Thought only leads to killing
I am ashamed to say that I am a
Human.
dan hinton Aug 2015
I
I thought that it would last my time –
That children would always read books
There would always be fields and farms
Where whippersnappers would climb
Where they would run and play in brooks
I knew there would be false alarms
II
But I never thought the malaise would spread this far
Kids not knowing what it is to be out in the air
What it means to use their mind and creativity
Just plugged in to their DSs and their Ipads in the car
Kids rooted to sofas, couch potatoes in the chair
Somehow I always thought their innocence would be free
III
There is always another day, just
As there will always be another excuse
Why we cannot go outside to play
Just sit glued to the idiot-box if you must
Passively watch this world of abuse
As our generation becomes stupider day by day
IV
Don’t write a poem or read a new book
Don’t go and sit out in the sun
The malaise is spreading and infecting us all
The crowd is young and beauty, but rooked
Rooked of their youth, it’s done
As they sit and stare at a screen in a stall
V
This really is what Orwell said, 1984
A world of computers and screens
Before I ***** it, the whole boiling will be bricked in
Nobody wants to play chess any more
A logged on generation, logging up through their teens
First cyber slum of Europe, a role it won’t be so hard to win
VI
Facebook, VK, Kikitalk, Instagram – a world that doesn’t exist
Just a world of fast past insubstantiability
****-eyed spelling and refute of grammar
And yet we let these kids get on with their imaginary bliss
We buy them the latest gizmos just for pacivity
And when we ask what’s to be done? You stammer
VII
We, the older generation, who knew a world better than this
A world of trees, and parks and streams
A world of old values, an idyllic pastoral
But with all pastoral, a world that can no longer exist
A world that can only reside in our dreams
Today’s world is ‘fast or nothing at all’
VIII
And I feel sorry for those kids, really
They never got to run around with a stick as a gun
They’re just getting angrier, as the malaise takes hold
Manifesting itself through boredom so easily
And then they go out and buy an AK-471
Oh well, most things are never meant, we’re told
IX
It seems, just now,
To be happening all so very fast,
For the first time, somehow
I feel that good values aren’t going to last.
The broncos won and I'm still at a dead end job
Didn't even watch the game, I was washing trash cans.
Heard about it through social media
About all the different things lady gaga looked like when she sang the national anthem.
Heatmiser, pizza rolls, dolly parton
Because one time dolly parton wore a red suit.
Which i thought was kind of a stretch
But i've read stupider things on the internet so i let it slide
I saw a commercial saying that tons of babies are born 9 months after the super bowl.
You know what else is right around that time in February?
Valentine's day
I don't think i've ever been less **** than during the super bowl.
Nobody looks at their man covered in nacho grease and beer stains and goes
"Oh yeah!" Its baby making time!
My girlfriend is in Florida working for Disney right now.
Thy have her doing laundry in a musty basement with middle aged Mexican woman.
It's apparently awful.
Ruins the magic she says.
Seeing cinderella scurrying around half naked doing her make up.
Wig cap and undergarments
Snow white with her nose up asking for kombucha.
Won't even make eye contact with the laundry vets.
Let alone my intern girlfriend.
I asked how the magic wasn't ruined before that.
After watching the play hairspray when they yell cut and
All the actors go back to their miserable lives, i figured it out pretty young.
This middle class manifesto
Where making 15 dollars an hour is a goal.
But she is the faithful type.
Loves her a good hoping.
That's why she hasn't cut me loose anyway.
She says she needs me around because i'm a taurus.
I have no idea what she means by that.
But i love hearing stories about mexican woman yelling in spanish at their iphone screens. And half naked princesses doing their makeup in hair nets. And her still believing in magic. I think it says a lot about her.
She gives me something to dream about while I wash these trash cans.
A Persona Poem
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2022
i'm slowly figuring out how it works...
"content creators" always boast about their number
of members... but? rarely...
their viewership counts ever match
to their number of members...
rarely... they might have a membership
count of 200K but their videos probably
mean at about 70K... it's a game of give and take...

me? hmm... well... me...
    one website? 142 "members"...
         another website 181 "members"...
i'm always happy when i exceed my "membership":
when writing i always aim at that: exceeding...
with 181 "members" i managed to accumulate
a viewership of... nearing to 50,000...
not bad... that's how Pythagoras and Jesus achieved
their fame... start little: grow big...
out of? well... the natural worth of your worth...

i was just re-watching Jurassic Park today...
hold hold... in between cleaning the house...
hold hold...
how the **** is man certain of his own
psychology and socio-political dynamism
while at the same time so ******* certain
about the ontology of dinosaurs?!
fossils read: the T-Rex is movement sensitive?!
so... he... can't smell you?
let alone see you when you don't move?!
for ****'s sake! the Shakespeare of cinema!
Spielberg! *******!
              
i recently watched an advert: it's true:
you taste food by sniffing it...
i can quickly drink a diluted bottle of black cherry
squash... i taste nothing:
because i'm glug glug glug
drinking it... i refrain from drinking i start sniffing:
it's like my nose dives into the oesophagus
and retracts what i was just drinking:

you sure it wasn't some strong salt (alkaline)
or some... sugar? are acids sugars?!
well if there's a corrosive salt...
shouldn't the antonym be: a strong sugar?
aren't acids really strong sugars?
citric... yeah... they are...
strong acids are sugars as strong....
****... strong sugars are acids
and strong salts are alkaline...
                        BOZO WATER BOY...
d'uh!
        get out y'er spazz-mr.fantastic-face-douzoh...

how?! reading ******* fossils?!
FAKE NEWS... wait for the rumble... wait...
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.... FAKE HISTORY...
from what? reading fossils?! we knew how
dinosaurs behaved?
                             wow! oh! ah ha ha ha ha!
wow! the selling gimmick in full shwing!
boys! girls! we don't need the swings!
just listen to these ******* try to sell you toilet paper!
seriously...
and for a while i was like:
oh yes yes... that's how dinosaurs behaved...
from a flimsy ******* film with by the current
year: ever more ****** CGI...

                oh man... the velociraptor was a wolf
of its species... sure... now all the dinosaurs are birds...
morphed into birds... birds are small...
dinosaurs were big...
hmm... what's smaller than birds?
insects... ergo?
there must have been a kind of animal
akin to insects that lived prior to dinosaurs that
were also large... ******* gigantic
morphs of mosquitos...
if the dinosaurs adapted to become birds...
although: spies! spies i tell you!
spies! snakes and crocodiles!
rationality makes no sense given enough time...
best aim for ice-cream and brain-freeze...
seriously... **** it...
it's not like anyone is going to remember this
century like any other century given
the time expanse we've allowed ourselves to give!

what i am curious about though is...
DRAGONS...
right... it was inbuilt into our psyche to conjure
dragons: long before we unearthed
fossils of dinosaurs...
dragons... fire breathing creatures...
what killed the dinosaurs?
the day the moon went to sleep or was like:
**** it... have to keep the tides...
might as well get rid of these gigantic Goliath-Nimrods...
eh... i'm sure something stupider and more
entertaining will take their place...
BAM! fire! a meteor hit the earth: lizards breathing
fire... DRAGONS... how do we know this?
is this dream-talk? do people dream-up this
*******? me? i don't dream-up ****... i just sleep...
i admire the people who can fall asleep
in transit: on a bus or on a plane...
me? i'm bothered by the imaginary fidget-bugs
of keeping composure and pretending
to allocate time to my mind as i measure
mental minutes to actual mechanised minutes
of a clock... i always get it WONG... revelations
of lost vibrations... esp. in flight...

where do these anti-history i.e. pre-history stories
come from? fossils? ******* dinosaur fossils?!
we know how a certain type of dinosaur
behaved based on their ******* fossils?
wow! we should dig up Elizabeth Bathory
and Cleopatra and tell apart which bathed in milk
and which in ****** blood... i'd... FFFFFFucking love
to know how fossils tell which apart!

it's just ******* silly... i'm semi-drunk semi-sober
i'm bordering on arrogance: clearly mad...
because... this... gradual increment of a collective narrative
that was supposed to be soothing?
isn't soothing anymore...
                  i'm turning my mind toward solipsism...
not unlike an actual medical claim of autism:
but as a theoretical: only i exist...
whoever i encounter?
inauthenticity... actors...
                 people of shallow depth...
after all... what's the most popular artistic expression
in our society? isn't it, acting?! it's not painting...
it's not poetry... ergo?
     fake... fake...           oh: more fake.... fake...
actors have become brutal in the dealings of
every man in how he or she might interact with
fellow ever man or woman...
absolutely brutal: tyrannical!

that's how i saw it: the devil ascending: monarchy...
a god descending: tyranny...
there is a clarifying distinction that can be
summarised by the continued existence of England...
a country my heart is enthralled by...
and forever will be...

yeah... sure sure... looking up the gorilla's *******
to figure out our ontology... great!
it's not like we didn't have sages in the past...
it's beyond "god is dead": "jesus is dead":
it's already a common name in Spain...
hey-zeus... Darwinism won like the Copernican revolution
never envisioned it: after all...
Galileo robbed Copernicus of his discovery
because he had the telescope and became the martyr...

with one swift move: a god died and the gods
were reborn...
but jesus is dead too...
why? who's imitating him?
Darwinism teaches the universality of imitation-monkey!
imitation-lobster imitation-ant!
no? isn't that what the secular psychologists are
preaching?! "evolutionary psychologists"?!
evolutionary: partially... there's still no concensus
on "soul": i.e. sigma: the totality of what's being...
not ontology: i.e. being qua...
rather what's "motivating" being: what's WILL...
the ****** of existence per se...

no no... i can't think of existence as merely summarised
as simply: "experience"...
we don't know how dinosaurs behaved...
it's POP CULTURE ****...
we don't know! we will never know!
i hate living in this fantasy world...
really? a meteor killed them off?
a freak accident... but i thought the moon was
the shield against all other meteors...
and most meteors burn out when reaching our
atmosphere...

listen... the Biblical strand of the story is: POETIC...
it's simplified...
it's like... journalism on an everyday basis:
the difference being: it's repeated day in day out...
it's journalism of a Groundhog Day...
i admit: pretty **** ******...
but the secular aversion to this?
             mein gott... when it's right... akin to chemistry,
biology, physics, medicine and engineering...
fair enough... grounded in reality...
but when these disciplines becomes... "humanised"...
all hell breaks loose!
did i forget geology? oops...
            these are disciplines of the demigods!
they are not to be trivialised!
made into narratives! they are strict rubric sentiments
of complimenting chaos with man's ingenuity
of crafting a sense of order!

yeah: wow me... 181 "members" that morphs
into an audience of reaching 50,000...
unlike those video guys with 50,000 members
and an average of half of those members switching
off... with some roundabout clued-in *******
****-jobs...
the revised ingenuity of internet anonymity:
oh sure sure... i'll just buy a book and leave
a comment in the comment section
of the book's back pages that no one:
esp. the author is going to read...
                          title: make your own mind up!
i'm alone: you're alone, we're all alone
in this ****-wit buggery of all sorts!
PK Wakefield Feb 2012
soAndso with yesterday went
down to Emerald and spit
went down to see the particular
jeer of howsome comely girl
things parading elephantine

the promise of whose wet
unwinter's courser hairless
majesties
                 in february even
call stupider the boy war
cringing aggressive sound

i thoughtlessly and also
going weren't less than
a toy but to their agreeable
*** flung shivers and
dainty pinks atoped
with tighter neon growling
articles

              (so i've felt like (with full and engorged membranous) never less a fool
               than when a shortly cropped fairy haired tousled perfectly bob
               slipping me her number snugly in my hands i called her 3 times
               without an answer)
a m a n d a May 2020
i was sitting here
searching for how to
do something mundane.
worklike.
syncing accounts.
trying to find passwords.
downloading data.

i sprinkled eucalyptus around
earlier to try
to make myself feel better.

i lit a candle and everything and
even pretend made my bed.
cranked the air conditioning.
so i could cool off.
and calm down.
and r e s t.

i took 2 dove milk chocolates
and ice cold water to my room.
i just wanted to watch
Stargate Atlantis
and go to sleep.

lazily mining for data
half paying attention
and suddenly an
  intergalactic time portal
opened up before my eyes.
and boom.
(i'm here again)
in this place
of so much
l o v e
my heart pounding
as if no time has gone by.
as if you had just come around
the corner and i see your face
again for the
first time.

literally tachycardia
a loss of all logic
a stupid, stupid grin
my body shaking
in anticipation
of hearing your voice.

by accident.
gigabyte after gigabyte after gigabyte
                and year, after year, after y e a r
and no matter which
one i choose,

i find pieces of you.
    funny little pieces.
        big, honest pieces.
secret pieces.
my pieces.

tears are streaming
d o w n my face
but i don't care
because it is the only
time i can remember
what it was like.

to be a different person.
in a different time.
to overlap with you.

every click
and swipe
songs
artworks
words
photos
texts

the reaching and
the r e t r e a t i n g.
     the coming together and
the sudden
   f
     a ll
in g
a p
art

all neatly in chronological
order like i'm
reading my own story.
but seeing it from
the outside.
the entire picture.
and i can see
where i was wrong
   i n t e n s e
younger
and stupider
and flailing.

but i have always seen you.
     always from the
           very first moment.
you were like an assault
  but in a cosmic sense.
and at the same time
a peaceful, serene, beautiful,
rare combination of atoms and ****.

and i don't think something like that
   could ever happen again.
i can't even imagine it,
   and imagining is the
only thing i'm good at.

curse the interwebs,
saving all this ****
i didn't even realize.
and thought was lost.

but also thank you,
google overlord.

i think it's ok to cry
  about loving someone,
and missing someone
so so so so much.

because nothing matters more
  than being honest
about your love.

and then i looked out
my window in despair
and i saw
a crescent moon.
Elihu Barachel Aug 2015
If I write a poem, and make it extra dumb
A lot of reads it gets, what has this world become?
-
The stupider I make it, the more it is received!
Like a purple chicken and green cow, who would have believed
-
But if I make it serious, like WW3 is almost here
Just a couple read it, no one I endear
-
So what am I to do? I'll say I told you so
I'll keep on writing Gloom and Doom, and pretend I am Rousseau
Nicholas Fogle Jun 2015
I want to be a Dragon, breath fire, and read the minds of liars.
Grow wings or gills and visit a land fill.
Do like Wall-e
I want to build

I want super powers to spend hours on Jupiter
Then out the galaxy and do something stupider
I want to be kid again, and laugh without worry.
That's when I was free and not in a hurry.

I want to dream about not kissing girls back when it was bad.
Redeem some innocence before I made my parents sad.
I didn't let anyone down or disappoint.
But I want to be child, there's something different at that point
Memory
jeffrey robin Oct 2014
(                                                                ­  
(                                
                              ­               )
                     )
(          
)
\/
/\
/    \
                                ###



She was a cute chick
Almost hot

I told her I loved her
****** her awhile
And dumped her sorry *** !

SHE AINT CUTE NO MORE !

••

Some babes got big ***** which is fine
but they tend to get a lot of attention

Girls with small ***** are more desperate

So // if YE got the time  / take the girl with
the big *****

If yet in a hurry  // take the girl with the small *****


Remember // when yer about ready to dump the ***** she WILL turn ugly

So // string her along until YE got the next one in line
cause the jealousy the dumped one will feel will
make her weaker and even stupider than she is



Also // most of the trash chicks you will meet will love Anything !

But they can only love one thing at a time !

So // YE take em for pizza / they might fall  in love with the pizza and forget about you !

Take em to the movies // they might fall in love with the movie
and not you !

So it's best to simply do nothin for em ! // even to abuse them !!

Then they'll love only you !



Remember !
Most of these babes are mindless
Even brainless !

They exist only as *** toys !

If YE don't believe me read their poetry !

Mindless // even totally heartless !

One chick always eager to betray even her best friend
for a SHOT AT BEIN HOT !
( see ! // I'm a poet too ! )



Of course

They don't really love YOU !

that's why all the boys **** with them

They're deceitful little rascals really !



I'm not makin this up !

••

Just read their poetry !
NeroameeAlucard May 2015
Am I adjusting to the *****
that time brings along
Am I all out of hope
what am I doing wrong?

Each thought I think
gets stupider each time
my brain is starting to stink
from my rotten tired rhymes?

Have I reached my peak
has my slide begun?
should I end it now?
stop abusing ink?
Liz Humphrey May 2012
I used to be
someone who
never told anyone
anything she wanted
I kept it all inside, and so
I felt, I breathed, I lived my life.
That was enough and that was all.
Now that I'm older, wiser and stupider,
I name them. I claim them, ashamedly and
unashamedly. And I don't think I ask too much.
So listen, please. with your heart and consider:
to be important as others are important,
to be greeted with a hug and smiles,
to be missed when I'm not here,
to be listened to and heard,
to be part of a whole,
to be respected,
to be loved,
to be real,
To be.
Alec Astaire Sep 2018
Oh, long lost Melody,
Antagonize me with your cadence:
That song, dripping from the tip of my tongue
I know you- but not well enough to know how you went

How one moment we were finishing each other’s sentences
But then the very next- I never got the memo I guess-
We switched to syncopation as if I was just supposed to know
The things you loved about me would become my greatest downfall

How foolish was I to think a crescendo would lack a diminuendo
How much stupider was I to think I could still remain your friend though
For how could we have a song without our melody:
Those notes we no longer sing but still remain a part of me

As the itch I can’t scratch or the tip of my tongue-
The parts of me that realize there’s something that I must be missing..
formerly: Untitled 9-24-18
Cordelia Rilo Sep 2015
I never knew how to tell you when we first met.
Those long silences we exchanged had such meaning behind them,
I was afraid to remember myself.

It was so different back then,
in those memories of youth
now turned to sickening realization.
In the beginning you would always ask me to show you pictures
or tell you stories about my past,
but how could I explain something
I didn’t want you to ever have to understand?

How was I supposed to bring up Bobby J?  
You didn’t even know he existed.
How could I begin to tell you about how he and I would sneak out, without bursting into tears?

We would sneak out
after dark had just covered the rooftop of our house,
down to the riverbank that was just feet from our backyard.
On warm summer nights we would dip our hair in the water
and pretend we were sea creatures,
back to rid the world of humans
and giggle for hours.  

He would always call me Chrisy back then,
a name you’ve never known.

“Chrisy,” Bobby would say quietly
as the stream whispered in our ears,
“when’s that man getting out of the house?”

I would splash him then and tell him,
“When you stop lettin’ him bother you!”
and we would continue to play
in the wilderness of our imagination;
pretend we were soldiers in the deep of a war,
or wild cavemen with swords made of wooden sticks.

Momma always caught us coming back
but it didn’t matter none back then.
She would catch us sneaking in the back door
and she’d grab us and throw towels over our wet,
creek watered hair
and say what trouble we were.
“Just two bundles of trouble these two!”
she’d always say to us and to no one in particular.

We’d go to bed then,
afraid he would be coming soon,
and then all of Momma’s logic
would go up in that crystal pipe he’d bring over
that got black as Momma got stupider.

How was I to tell you about the night everything changed,
when the bad got badder
and Momma didn’t make it?

I didn’t want to remember the good days;
I didn’t want to remember any of it.

I just wanted to forget the sound of his gun,
the way Momma screamed,
and how he shouted for us to keep quiet or never see her again,
and Bobby J was never good at being quiet.

How could I tell you that one night
I kissed his ***** bruised face and walked away?
That I left that horrible man,
the only home I had ever known,
my real name,
and my baby brother,
and I never looked back.
Francie Lynch Mar 2018
Isn't it easy to write during these times,
And difficult to write on these times,
Without ripping off figurative comparisons.

I want to use wasteland
But I'd be the one compared,
And that won't work. That's not my intent.
Besides, Townsend and T.S. worked it.

There are the platinum choices
Like Satan, Lucifer, or Legionnaire.
But Milton has his scent all over these,
And the Bible invented them.

Those times.
These times.

Apocalypse, or any version thereof,
Would surely bring Brando to mind,
And Kurtz's heart of darkness.

There are inspiring descriptors like,
Cataclysm, devastation and destruction.
Well-represented in cinema
Since Birth of a Nation.
Now there's irony.

As much as Holocaust would be perfect to plagiarize,
I, nor anyone else, should ever attempt,
(And it would be a vain glory attempt at best)
To use this singular word
In an analogy for anything, ever again.
Ever!
Unless absolutely necessary.
Unless someone we know gets stupid.
Then more stupid.
Then stupider.
Then most stupid.
And finally,
Not with a whimper, but a bang.
I falter.
Not exactly plagiarism is it?
Shouldn't be repeated either.
Thus, our plight. Tip of the cap to all I've taken from, willingly.
Michelle M Jan 2018
Cruising along mudddy
mountain back roads
in my father's Bronco,
A misty rain hovering,
on the horizon,

The Eagles,
Or Fogleberg,
Or Little Feat
drifting fuzzily,
into the back seat
Dad intermittently,
singing along,
and cursing the fog.

My Grandfather's musty trailer,
Atari games beeping and blooping,
from the television,
A jubilee of pixles,
thrumming on the 32 inch set.

My cousins chasing me,
through the hay lofts,
Michael falling from the rafters,
Six feet into a cow pie,
the size of Mt. Everest,
Neck high and flies buzzing,

Jake and I making the long trek,
back to our parents,
to report that our charge,
had been accidentally,
suctioned into a vortex of ****,
They were mostly mad,
that we had left him there,

The sweet strumming,
of my father's guitar by a bonfire,
Beer cans hissing and popping,
morphing into alien shapes,
in the flames.

Stars a cacauphony,
of tiny lights overhead,
If you walked just a few steps,
away from the blaze,
you could get lost
in their cosmic spiral,

My dad had a story,
about the time he saw a ufo,
in those stars,
How one shot up into the sky,
then straight down,
like a plummeting rocket,

Only he didn't belive things like that.
Ever the pragmatist,
quick to interject that we were all,
just worm food,
but when he told that story,
his hairs stood on end.

Days spent
picking grapes off the vine,
gorging myself in the,
strawberry patch,
and in the orchard,
There were so many apples
that we left some for the deer,

I recall being jealous,
that the boys got to go hunting,
while I stayed back canning fruit,
with the women.

Weirdly wishing,
that I could amass,
rank and file,
with the men,
Douse myself in animal ****,
and sit painfully still,
for hours,
in a rickety tree stand,
Our play house was probably sturdier,
and better insulated.

Looking after those stupid beagles,
and gathering eggs from,
stupider chickens,
Feeding infant cows with,
oversized baby bottles,
cradling them,
kicking and *******,
in my skinny arms,
barely aware of the pervasive smell
of manure.

Eating Papa's tomato casserole,
and drinking buttermilk,
Thinking they were only things
in his whole kitchen,
that weren't mouldy,
or mildly terrifying.

Walking wooded trails,
on cold mornings,
catching quick glimpses,
of foxes and grouse,
before they fled,
Warned off by the snapping
of small twigs underfoot.

Such rare and beautiful moments.
I didn't appreciate them then.
Only now that those days,
are long past,
just wistful songs in the mountains,
can I recognize their worth,
and sing their twangy melody,
with warmth and love.
EJ Aghassi Jun 2014
pretty thing
I've met stupider
Don't worry about it

Baby doll
I see only you
Don't worry about it

Sweetheart
I'm happiest
when I'm sad

darling
I don't know
any better
Mrs Timetable Mar 2020
Don’t catch stupider
We get it from ignorance
The cure may cost us dear
And its very lengthy
And we don’t have
That kind of time
Be careful out there
I edited this to "we" instead of "you"...to include myself. No one is immune.
Dr Strange Feb 2017
When I was a kid...I was innocent
Believing everything was just perfect,
Or if it wasn't perfect, it would work out when the time called for it
However, when I grew up that innocent mind died
Shot at point blank range right in the eye
Causing me realize that society was ****** up  from the inside
Crying tears that was made up of this substance that leaked from other bloodlines
Now I sit here wondering how did I miss this as a child
Was I that naive that I believed everything was made up of sunshine and rainbows
Completely ignoring all these ugly *** fuckboys and ***** hoes
Now I'm just soaked in my own rage and regret
Failing to determine if I'm just getting angrier or if society is getting stupider
So I just scream at the top of my lungs screams
Falling through the ground still pondering as to what happened here
No seriously, someone please tell me what happened here
Devilgirlzdream Mar 2014
you look at my and go, what the hell?
you see my face and go, what the hell?
you see my clothes, what the hell?

you see my scars, what the hell?
you see pain, what the hell?
you think I'm a freak, what the hell?

I say hi, you say *******, what the hell?
you pick on me, what the hell?
you see nothing in me, what the hell?

you think you're all this and that
you talk a lot of smack
you aint got crap

I say ***** please
you laugh in my face
the anger in my eyes, the anger deep inside

you got nothing on me
so go fly away
you haven't seen pain,
heard pain,
felt pain.

you think you know what im talking bout
you ain't gotta clue
you act blonde as can be
you seem stupider than me

I have my problems,
I have my pain,
got my doughts,
got damage

you should think before you speak,
you should ask before you judge,
try and help me out instead of kick me in the dust,
you keep trying to act all bad
ain't working for ya, is it?
ravendave Oct 2016
Say there, you old fool,
what have you been up to?
Day and night you chase the moon
till daylight comes again. Why?
Her glow is much the lesser light
than yours. Don't you know
her sheen is you reflected?
Yet you persist, while other
stellar bodies stay neglected.
Best not to fuss with Venus-
her Mars is much too jealous.
Mercury is much too hot, thanks to you,
and Earth is way too quarrelsome.
Saturn would run rings around you,
and as for Jupiter? I know
of no planet stupider. Neptune
is altogether frosty, and Uranus
is simply out of the question,
in this or any other dimension.
And Pluto hardly seems a proper
planet anymore- not in this galaxy,
that's for sure. No, old Sol,
you'd best retain your sorry lunar love-
as the moon evades your grasp
and flirts with stars above.

— The End —