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Bijan Rabiee Apr 2018
I'm  free of religion, politics and law
The triad of corruption
The rein of my body and my mind
Rest in the hands of my spirit
I'm not above anyone
And no one is above me
I was born unique
Like everybody else
I've kept it that way unlike most
No superbly skilled mastermind
Can infiltrate my being
No cutting-edge mechanism
Can alter the course of my craft
I'm a drifter in the land of mystery
Magical birds shall sing my history.
Fame brought many to the singer.
Fame brought many to the comedian.
And the last check they have wealth.

Money, attracts women, although they in this denial.

Fame brought many to this golfer.
Seeking fame brought many to this producer.
Giving credit to Dragnet.
Names not mention to protect.
Although we all can take a good guess.

In the darkness of lies many escapes.
While knowing money creates fun for joy.
And many cry innocent when trouble comes.
Truth a Stinging Bee Compassion promotes
Was ever by Chance I try to Avoid
But asking for such from your direct Mote
Was in fact Soothing as much as a Toy
Shelled? Yes as far as I have just observed
Those charmed Somniloquies your Voice expressed
In Art, why not? Mosaics are much conserved
Though tiled in Paradise of Colours concessed
Calming this haply your Passion consumes
Amongst Events the Water soothes and calms
Direct Object Happy; Go put out the Fumes
Which blinds Good Fish spitting Coins for their Alms.
Still this Summary chose you for your Grace
For me, next Spell, will adapt to your Face.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
abecedarian Sep 2017
he said/begged,
make love to me just like a woman!

kiss me toe to head, linger on my neck,
trace my waist, begin at my lips, pause at my hips,
quibbles intersperse, quips and licks on eyelids,
nibble me, near me, close and closer yet
unto the glorious victorious near death experience...

whisper me sweet everythings
before during after and over again,
when you must pause to exhale, blow all their warmth
upon thy fingers and bring that warmth inside

me with tongue and eyes,
take me slow then again,
even slower, for thy pleasure,
than execute summary judgement upon me

falsely accept, then deny, deny, deny
my every appeal to
oh my god
for anyone's mercy!

adjudge me then guilty yet again,
and to the tower take me
to drown in mine own lashing lamentations,
thy incontrovertible evidence,
mine own uncensored revelations
execute me twice,
slowly, goodly with lengthy and lovely measures

she said,  and so I shall, eventually,
do what you beseech, what you most excellently seek

but you may recall, somewhat earlier, I called out
so you must start my dear by following
all the precise driving instructions you just stated,
and bring your GPS^, and, oh yes,
I'm waiting...

too wit and sod this!
he gruffingly huffingly, hurrumphingly, replied,
all hell and damnation,
treat me like a woman just once pity-please!"

can't can't can't -
she be-witchingly cackled!

then sang to me the lyrical words of a
Nobel Prize winner!

You fake just like a woman
Yes you do, you make love like a woman
Yes you do, and then you ache just like a woman
But you break just like a little boy
^GPS is a permanently attached male guidance system.
The P does nots stand for Positioning.
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2016

for the early morning teach


she's young, beautiful and thinks her life is cursed,
in the past, subject of some of my poems, her health to nurse,
yet, as is normative, you fall into & out of a well of touch,
until you accidentally once again path cross,
she provides a precision mathematical status update

"i'm fairly certain things are like at least 38% worse."

it is 1:38AM for you,
the not unnoticed ironic minute and hour
when the night ether has prematurely worn off,
rising time close but not nearly close enough,
a dark dose of a sleeping nurse's aide seems inappropriate,
and TV reruns seem like an insult to your brain

instead you turn on some belle string musique,
a Grande Messe des Morts,
a chorus,
singing a high mass for the dead,
while opening all your various email luggage and baggage,
smiling as you read a poetess's message of
laughter behind tears

"i'm fairly certain things are like at least 38% worse."

and Mississippi ******,
your uncontrollable mixed drink of her emotional
Grenada grenade cocktail,
flavored with musique, paintings, and words and a nearby beloved's
gentling sleep sounds,
has you writing your own protest poem,
your very own,
oy vey, grande messe,
about lives that were supposed to be
pictures of perfect artistry
and for but a word or two,
instead, a painting of a life that got hung upside down,
and indeed,
leaving a grand mess and no one to help clean up

alternatively weeping, laughing as you are thinking,
smiling recall
Laurel and Hardy's summary definition
of living a life's of ill begotten, misventured adventures:

"Well, here's another nice mess you've gotten me into !"

but 38% worse?

not an even-steven rounded up 40%,

should I write you only 38% of a poem, teach?
or more accurately, more mathematically,
138% of what was writ before?

and you recall your older, prior words
about the love hate affair between
you poet,
and the beauty of written brevity
(her style)

and you give her this then,
this rambling, scrambled, attention paid notification,
word attentiveness, a summary of your readings
of her cheddar sharp and honey mustard sweet retorts of
pained poetry,

it is insufficiently but perfectly sufficient,
a summarizing phrase that opens
and yet
briefly encapsulates all that
you are feeling for her

"thinking of you"

or the 38% larger version thereof -

*"Well, here's another 38% more
nice poetic mess
you've gotten me into!"
2:44 AM,
of course
Angge Dec 2015
It's uncanny.
I find it funny.
Some use this as a story's summary.
Day 5 - Write a three line poem about lemons without using the following words: lemon, yellow, round, fruit, citrus, ****, juicy, peel, and sour.
karin naude Jul 2013
a very nice lady
that greets me with hugs
asked me to prepare a final thought over you
a last summary for as long as forever can last
you have been the subject of s many poems
the pain you cause has been inspiration for many pen paper relationships

i think of the unspoken promise between your heart and mine
of love un-wavered for eternity
to create and keep a safe haven
teaching me to sail rough seas
i'm left holding this promise letter
it will never be fulfilled
it leaves me longing, endless searching for comfort
makes me gullible
that have lead me to the gate of hell more times than i care to remember
you never gave me a home
just emptiness,pain and endless regret
a bitter price to pay for not my actions

the best gift you ever gave me is strength
from taking beating after beating
yes i am an abuse survivor and i am proud of it
i made it this far
crawling and scraping, thanks to god
with him by my side i will keep going
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2017
humans born a mess,
messengers carrying blank notepads, sheet music,
brought from within to the without

a baby-sized handful of historical residues retained,
garnered from all too brief a prelim existence,
arriving possessing hints of what may be

most emerging crying,
crying over loss of the womb security,
for seers all, all see unaccountable futures clouded
by an inevitable chance of rain
and death

all of us, no one excepted,
covered for months in **** stained fluids ,
a holy, ***** combination
of amniotic nourishment,
and our own waste

a hint of what is to come?

human then spends the rest of life
cleaning up after himself,
mostly with tasks of addition,
punctuating by the occasional cleansing of
elimination subtraction

making room for the next love,
labored birthing of a baby poem,
from your womb, midwifed,
haunting ghosts of three note tunes,
begging for a set of lyrics and a
great chorus everybody can sing,
a completion competition

going along, all along, to the goings on,
all our routes preternatural crooked,
lived a life of pretense, a straightened out life,
which is the nuanced, connected summary of our components
which are all curves, dots on a line

and the composition source,
the secret chords employed,
tech installed just prior to birth,
effacing glorious sadness, glorious joy,
the human building blocks,
with the certainty that
everybody knows,
that's how it goes
everybody knows,

only fools believe,
you'll live forever

but live at least long enough to sing and write of
a man cleaning up his own life's messes,
and perchance, after our absence,
leaving the world better for it
Joe Macintosh May 31
My eyes are filled with tears,
My brain is filled with lies,
Everyday I'm living, a part of me just dies.
My heart is filled with love – but there’s no one there to take.
These people all around me, are all so ******* fake.
My will’s always been bent,
but now it’s 'bout to break.
I don’t know how much more
of this **** I can take.
Mary Frances Oct 2018
Understand and know me
not just by reading
the summary and the prologue.
Read all the chapters
until the last period
where I bared my heart.
We've been judged by other people but they haven't read everything. All they know are the things being passed on from one mouth to one ear. It would really help if they will take the time to read everything before they make judgments.
Nat Lipstadt Apr 16
every poem is a test of character,
holy/profane all the same,
algorithm entirely humanized-you,
the elected words cannot be voted out of office,
by a recall petition, regardless of
constant corrected incorrectness.

sorted by size,
nocturnal alliteration,
do they sound in the dark
like your bleeding or you’re breathing?

holy/profane all the same,
Gertrude truth is a truth is truths,
you think my name matters?
Artificial Idiocy. Everyone poem faceted,
a chip off the the naming blockchain idiot.

when I imagine-lie,
it is a truth in and of its own

call me baffled.
that is a god enough
one word summary.
and so true.

baffling perplexing cryptic and opaque.
in all honesty.
if you’re reading this, you are
testing my character.

what have you found, or even, lost?

in the midst of the characters is

inspired by Leonard Cohen
Dr Peter Lim Aug 12
but memory
middle age
but worry
old age
but ambiguity
the summary
The blue dew is raining in
roaring fury!

It's a love cascading violently
from ****** blue mountain,
inviting grit from ocean of
courage, to offload tons of
bashfulness overload.

I reach a dime with hazel gaze
to a blue-eyed goddess in the
love garden, popping ogle
champagne in blind lust to
******* world.

I grin!
I grin in summary epic!

The amorous picnic turn and caress
me in mercurial adjectives, embalm
me in emotional stiffness,  aloof
from the real, unfrozen me into
insatiable insanity.

Not long, the craze evaporated
into eternity!
Bella Oct 2017
I keep finding peaches
I don't think it's possible to not smile when you say the word
they turn my cheeks the same color as their skin
it makes me grin and laugh to see them sunbathing on the banister
lining the window sills like shining trophies
on my porch like children climbing to Set upon the tallest object They can find
beaming as children do

Maybe it's cuz I grew up in the south
Knowing you have to set them out And wait for them to be soft to
     the touch
let them ripen in the Sun so you can then pick your fruit that up
     until now has been forbidden
it's like a little fuzzy ball of gold Sunshine warming your face and
     your mouth
I love the word peaches

maybe it's the memory,
the name,
“chin up, peaches”
it carrie's such an innocence such a light-hearted, free-spirited
something warm and welcoming and something I could only find at home

maybe it's the breakfast
peaches and cream
three ingredients
so happy, so creamy, so sweet, smooth, summary, comforting
it's what my grandma would give me
so sugary, yet so filling
it reminds me of her
it tastes how she act
it is her hyperbole
peaches and cream is a grandmother
it's as sweet as her voice
as comforting as her touch
as filling as her hug
and as smooth as her skin.

maybe it's all three
either way
this time of Peach field windowsills will come again next year
and the year after that
and the year after that
until I am the grandmother they represent
and every year, I will smile.
I wrote this in peach seasoned, if you couldn't tell and as silly and stupid as it sounds peaches bring back beautiful memories for me. I tried to convey some of those memories in this poem, such as they're embodiment of my grandmother (who  makes me that dish to this day).
Fullfreddo Mar 2018
“the ones that feel everything already know...”  Harlon Rivers

curse this blessing. leeches leach this blessing.  
this summation this summary judgment
this sum of my addiction addition
where from this mark of cain upon my eyes, intended to drown
a brimful poet in a wellspring of their product?

blood sweat and tears the tea my quill is
in the rivulets that drown the scarred pathways perforce dipped

walk the streets and all secrets to me betrayed
yours not mine for in my possess but one
feel everything

every scowling every halved smile the ecstasy of belly laugh
I know I know
the libretto of a thousand operas
that do not all reach a final act

a-few cogent my x-ray ability aNd and the most
desperate  with out the disparity of no partition

curse this blessing bestowed, I rather

Tatenda Ncube Mar 18
Promise me,
Promise me that one day she'll be nothing but just a distant memory
Another " i used to know her", another demon that lasted in my life not longer than a summary

Lie to me,
If you can't promise me then please dare lie to me
Call this an infatuation, a passing feeling soon as my heart finds its perfect fitting

I hate this zone, in this zone she claims to be my friend
I hate this friend, this friend dared place me in a zone
I hate this friend zone, can't she at least be more than just my friend in a zone
In here she says she loves me, in here she shares with me all her ****, in here she's in here with me and it feels lovely
"She's mine, truly she's mine", my heart sings full of conviction
Like she's built only for the sole purpose of my heart's demolition, demolish it she does
" you're the best friend a girl could ever ask for", with these words demolish it she does!!!
I thought to myself
You're not just another chapter
You're what the whole book is all about
that the past ones have gradually built
and i'm the actress
trying to get into your words

Chapter 1
The summary has fooled me
they gave you labels and to me warnings
instead what i found was the right words
i wanted to put my thoughts into
you said it first, and i added where necessary
we somehow felt the connection,
so we both moved on to a screenplay.

Chapter 2
I couldn't keep following the lines,
for that's something a kid can also do,
so i mended where i thought defined me more
that it won't let me stand still on the stage
thinking, wondering and questioning if i'm really exploring
for i'm not supposed to repeat exactly what has been said
cuz what's the point of watching if you can just read.

Chapter 3
I thought I was doing great
cuz you've been applauding since the beginning
but all of a sudden you stopped, and i heard "next!"
then i realized I wasn't longer something you wanted
That i turned out to be different
from what you had in mind

and suddenly it felt like
somebody has just untied a blindfold from my eyes
cuz that was when I finally knew,
it was not yet a rehearsal but just an audition
with numeral candidates behind me
and I happened to be the first person you judged.
I wrote this about a month ago after a heartbreak. Sitting in the dark with only the moonlight as a company, wondering where did I go wrong.  But I stopped at half of 'Chapter 2', my eyes were too tired from all the crying lol. Until today, something happened that made me dig in where I left off. I'm not sure if I completed it with the same feeling still, but as I read it again I just knew this is what I wanted to say.
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