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Kristo Frost Mar 2013
how could You know
as You are walking down the sidewalk
           around a corner       wherever You want
that the world is not assembling itself
atom by sticky atom
from the blueprints
piled in piles (like so many piles of newspaper)
in (the rooms in) the back rooms of Your mind
particles rushing and streaming, fluttering
together with the ebb of Your consciousness?
-
the World blurs fuzzily into shape
before snapping
(snappily)
into focus

just as You enter the room
blending pixilated reality smoothly
into an orchestrated Existence
-
the next time You      reach
for the doorknob on
the door to
the waiting room
-
give
pause
listen            
carefully
-
can’t You hear the anxious atoms
           scraping
sliding
           shoving past each other?
-
they                jockey
       jumping into
the eye of
       the image of
the woman on
       the screen of
the television in
       the corner of
the ceiling where
       it hangs
-
she wants to know
why we divide
Them              from Us
-
so clearly
so readily
-
she wants to know
why our countries
are bordered
-
by an indifference to equality
by a contempt for disillusionment
-
A dispute broke out between two
atoms on the table this morning;
a tiny china teapot was broken.
-
how would You know?
people are no more
then elaborate pieces of Your own mind
now once You hang up the phone
e v a p o r a t e d  
                        into no more than
                                           an afterthought
                                                    ­     of empty space
                                                           ­         -
                                             the smell of burnt matches
                             -                                      -
                You think that
everything You imagine is beautiful
                    even death
                             -
               but in an ugly way
-                            -
the man on the
                                edge
of the third chair
from the door
has no face
(none of Them do)
all of Them don’t
(have faces)
-
until They speak or You look Them in the eye
-
until They do something       Wrong
which is why They look                  down
when They walk down the sidewalk
-
They are afraid
-
to live
  as a tree
    in the park
-
where a pillar of
angry
           energy
                       falling
failing
           the
                       pessimistic
sky
might strike
Them
(older than You
yet born
just this moment)
making the ground
around
Them steam
with the sweat
of a silent room
waiting
for the
            door to
                        swing open
                                      and tell
                                                   him
                             -               -
                she’s going to be all right
              it was close there for a while
                        but she’s strong
                      she pulled through
                                      -
                              in the end
-                                     -
the pressure
of the years
of the rings
(which promise to
grow tighter
as time leaves us)
is heated
squeezed
left sitting in
flesh
turned to char
ash and smoke gently
cradling a tiny newborn
diamond
-
perfect           (silence)
-
broken
down the middle-
                      aged
                             flawed
-                                -
You should be perfect by now
You should have a face by now
-
speak           look Yourself in the eye
-
see Your own          Face
stop looking                down
when You walk down the sidewalk
-
don’t be afraid
-
to live
  as a tree
    in the park
-          -
They say don’t talk             to strangers
and You’re a strange one            indeed
how can You see the glamour
where Others            cannot
see that laughing quietly to themselves
can (You) set the expressions on their faces
to joy
     to pain
           to fear
                to apathy
                     to peace?
                              -
              yeah, she likes him
                and she likes him
                        to know
               that she likes him
                              -
                      in the end
-                             -
she wants to know
why our countries
are bordered
-
to keep Them      out
and Us       in
-                                   -
           this is Mine                  and that is Yours
-                                   -
You see
what You want to see (without)
-
(knowing what You want)
the sticker
       on the bumper
              of the car
                     rolling past reads:
                           “jesus is coming,
                                  hide the ****”
-                                          -
in its green lettering
and its largely silent voice
-
if You listen             carefully
You can almost hear Them
-                  -
              giggling
                ­   -                       -
              please do not think about green elephants
-                                          -
(a student just snuck in
and sat down as
the professor was writing
on the board)
-                                       -
             please do not feed the green elephants
-                                       -
I
Myself
have a strong suspicion
that Your mind is
as You read this
(hidden in a carefully cupped notebook)
spilling
black ink particles into
existence
on the very next          page
-                              -
             ­       You write that
You imagine everything is beautiful
                    except for death
                                 -
                   it is an ugly thing
                                    -
               yet still the chisel gouges
                  -               -
  “i whistle a catcall
at my blushing bride”
      llac ot eltsihw i”
  “edis ym ot god ym
                  -        -
        through the crumbling protests
         of the reluctant stone
                               -    -
                     ­               each new line
                                    tampers with space
                                    holds suspect time
                                    postpones the end
                                    and evades death
-                                  -
You breathe
               You write
You sing
                You live
                       -
You casually craft causality
         -             -
         yet craft on
         surely You are not yet done
         You may never be
         at this rate but
         but
         STOP
-        -
the World reblurs then blows away
listen closely here I say
all things must come to end one day
-                                       -
You
Yourself

have tasted the                     hunger
                        of Greed
seen the                                 wealth
                       of Hatred
heard the                               stories
          ­             of Genocide
felt the                                    loss
                     ­  of War
and smelled the                    decay
                       of Truth
-                      -
                      this        ­     is Mine
                                 what’s Mine, is Yours...
This poem was originally inspired by the Russell's Teapot analogy.
Fudz Lana May 2016
I can hear it slicing through my brain,
like a sharp, stray tune of imperfect melody.
It tampers with desolate whimpers
A cry for attention
My contoured skin is peeled away
by those words

"Never will I be,
Pretty."

If I could just cut it off
like excess skin
like layers of flabby fats

If there's a liposuction
for dark thoughts
If I can tuck it
away from my tummy

I'd do it in a heartbeat.
A poem I wrote for a play
Ston Poet Dec 2015
(Love hurts...Yeah3)
But its worth it....Yeah its worth it....
Yeah..Yeah..
(Love hurts...Yeah
3)
But its perfect....Yeah its perfect
Yeah..Yeah..
(Love hurts...Yeah3)
But its worth it....Yeah its perfect
Yeah..Yeah..
(Love hurts...Yeah
3)
But Love is perfect....Yeah Love is worth it.
Yeah..Yeah..


Love is pain..
Love is care..
Love is  scarce..
Love is wealth
Love is Jesus bloodshed..
Love hurts but its worth the fight..Yeah

Love is very hard to attain..It seems that love went MIA..or maybe I'm just going blind homie..I been searching tryna find it, where could it be..I don't know mane..but searching for it kinda made me weak..
Love is strength
Love is kind..
Love is the best high ever, Love is a feeling that we all need to acquire.
Without love there's no peace..
Without love there's no you..
Without love there's no me..
Love can't be bought but Love is richer than gold ,silver , & billions all combine together.
Love is what so many people need..
Love is unconditional..
Love is indescribable..
Love is why the sun come up..Love is why the sun goes down..
Love is why the moon shines so bright..
Love is why the stars are so beautiful at night..
Love saves a broken heart and pampers it..not tampers with it..
Aye..(love3)..when I find you you are forever mines..real talk..for show..
Love is worth more than this world is worth dawg
I'm just letting ya know,Love is what got us all here in the first place, Thank you so much Jesus, Thank You So much Heavenly Father..Aye..Yeah

(Love hurts...Yeah
3)
But its worth it....Yeah its worth it....
Yeah..Yeah..
(Love hurts...Yeah3)
But its perfect....Yeah its perfect
Yeah..Yeah..
(Love hurts...Yeah
3)
But its worth it....Yeah its perfect
Yeah..Yeah..
(Love hurts...Yeah3)
But Love is perfect....Yeah Love is worth it.
Yeah..Yeah..

Love can pull you down & tear you apart from the bottom to the top, but its all worth it, dawg   its so **** perfect my *****.. its all worth it Yeah..Uhh
Its worth more than being famous, its worth more than being rich , Yeah its worth more than the most luxurious crib, its worth more than the most luxurious whip..Love is  worth more than the most luxurious jewelry.. Love is so precious , so if you get it then take care of it homie..Aye,..Love is everything to me.. Love washed all our sins, & Love took away all are  pain..Thank You so much Jesus again for your heroic deed..Aye

Why is it so hard tryna find love, Aye, its harder than taking a calculus quiz dawg, & I been trying my best tryna past it, please help me Lord please..please I need your guidance..Aye..you can't buy love, no matter how much money you think you spending on it ..its only gained by trust dawg, Aye..
Where ya at love, where you been , I really want ya, I need ya bad..(love
4)....Yeah
Yeah love hurts so ******* much but Imma fein for it, no demon, I'm so addicted to the feeling bru, its like smoking on some good kush, its my medicine, I need love to help me unwind & relax Yeah.. So when I find love, Imma make love mines forever & ever dawg, ain't no running away from me Yeah..



(Love hurts...Yeah3)
But its worth it....Yeah its worth it....
Yeah..Yeah..
(Love hurts...Yeah
3)
But its perfect....Yeah its perfect
Yeah..Yeah..
(Love hurts...Yeah3)
But its worth it....Yeah its perfect
Yeah..Yeah..
(Love hurts...Yeah
3)
But Love is perfect....Yeah Love is worth it.
Yeah..Yeah..

Where is Love at,..Yeah I been searching..
Aye, I need (love2).. & I want (love2).. So where you at (Love2)..Who you been with (love2)
Where the **** is love at,Where the **** has love been for so long man..
Yeah Yeah..Uhh
I want love..,Wheres it at,  I can't find it..I need love ****..Where has it been at man, I been searching steady tryna guide it, but I can't find it so I'm still trying,.. Aye
I..I want love,..I..I need love where is love at..(Where the **** it been..
I can't find it..Wheres it at3)
Love hurts yeah..but its perfect,
(Yeah its worth it
2)..(Aye,I want love, I need love, where is love at,..2)..Aye
Where the **** has it been, please stop hiding from me love, I really need you, I'm so sad..Uhh..(Wheres it at..Where is love at
4)..Aye..because its worth it, yeah its so perfect..Uhh...Yeah I need love, I want love but..(I can't find it,no2)..(Where is Love at *4)..(where the **** its at aye4)..its so perfect , its worth it, (love6)..(Yeah, love hurts but its worth it..2)..Yeah love hurts but its perfect yeah its so worth it..(Yeah love hurts3)..but its worth it, man its so perfect,.. (Love7..Where the **** it been..
I can't find it..Wheres it at3)
(Where the **** is it at..noo..I can't find it man
3)..(Where the **** is love at..3)..*****

I want it in my hands yeah I want love so bad man, I been seeking love for years & years  chasing after it,..I been looking everywhere I'm going mad,..Uhh..Yeah
But its worth every mile of this journey that I have been hiking for sure I'm gonna find it, ..man its just so **** perfect Yeah man, its just so **** worth it, Love hurts yeah but its so **** perfect, Yeah its so **** worth it, Yeah..
I need (love
2), I want (love2) so much..Yeah
I want (love
2) , I need (love2) so my ***** I'm searching..
I need love, I want love my ***** Imma find it
(Yeah ***** Imma find it
2)..(Love7)
Where the **** is it at...I need love Yeah I been searching & Imma find it..
Aye..
(Love
4)
stonpoet.tumblr.com
James Shasha May 2010
Returning from the brink of despair,
the bewildered postman tampers with
Alaska, Manifest.
Do not disturb the water-
There lurks the Hazard Congressional
a New Revolution Poem
Kristo Frost Sep 2014
maybe (Big Maybe) your life has numbers in the title.

inked, digits trace the shadow of her hair

if you forgot...

how could You know
as You are walking down the sidewalk
           around a corner   --   wherever You want
that the World is not assembling itself
atom by (jigsaw) atom
from the blueprints (and stencils)
piled in piles (like so many piles of newspaper)
in (the rooms in) the back rooms of Your mind
particles rushing and streaming (fluttering)
together with (the ebb of) Your consciousness?

the World blurs fuzzily into shape
before snapping
snappily
into focus

just as You enter the room
blending concentrated reality smoothly
into some orchestrated Existence

the next time You          reach
for the doorknob on
the door to
the wait-, the waiting room

give,
pause

listen,         
carefully

can’t You hear the anxious atoms
           brushing
jostling
           shoving past one another?

Numbers, pixels, they                  jockey

       squinting through
the eye of
       the image of
the woman on
       the screen of
the television in
       the corner of
the ceiling where
       it hangs

she wants to know
why You divide
Them              from Us

so clearly
so readily

she wants to know
why Your countries
are bordered

by an indifference to equality
by a contempt for disillusionment

Extra! Extra! Read All About It!:
An extraneous dispute broke out between two
atoms on the table this morning;
a tiny china teapot was broken.

not that You care, but...
how would You know?

people are no more
then elaborate pieces of Your own mind
now once You hang up the phone
e v a p o r a t e d  
                        into no more than
                                           an afterthought
                                                    ­     of empty space

                                             the smell of burnt matches

                You think that
everything You imagine is beautiful
                    even death

               but in an ugly way

the man on the
                                edge
of the third chair
from the door
has no face
(none of Them do)
all of Them don’t
(have faces)

until They speak or You look Them in the eye

until They do something       Wrong
which is why They look                  down
when They walk down the sidewalk

They are afraid
You Made them Afraid

to live
  as a tree
    in the park

where a pillar of
angry
           energy
                       falling
failing
           the
                       pessimistic
sky
might strike
Them
(older than You
yet born
in this moment)
making the ground
around
Them steam
with the sweat
of a silent room
waiting
for the
            door to
                        swing open
                                      and tell
                                                   him

                she’s going to be all right
              it was close there for a while
                        but she’s strong
                      she pulled through

                              in the end

the pressure
of the years
of the rings
(which promise to
grow tighter
as time leaves us)
is heated
squeezed
left sitting in
flesh
turned to char
ash and smoke gently
cradling a tiny newborn

                                          diamond


perfect           (silence)

broken
down the middle-
                      aged
                             flawed

You should be perfect by now
You should have a face by now

speak           look Yourself in the eye

see Your own          Face
stop looking                down
when You walk down the sidewalk

it's Your painting,
don’t be afraid

to live
  as a tree
    in the park
  
They say don’t talk             to strangers
and You’re a strange one            indeed
how can You see the glamour
where Others            cannot
see that, laughing quietly to Yourself,
(You) can set the expressions on their faces
to joy
     to pain
           to fear
                to apathy
                     to peace?

               yeah, she likes him
                and she likes him
                    to know that
                    she likes him

                      in the end

she wants to know
why Your countries
are bordered

to keep Them      out
and Us       in

           this is Mine                  and that is Yours

You see
what You want to see (without)

(knowing what You want)
the sticker
       on the bumper
              of the car
                     rolling past whispers:
                            jesus is coming,
                                  better hide the ****

the tone is green, jealous

if You listen             carefully
You can almost hear, someone's

             giggling

             please do not think about green elephants

(a student just snuck in
and sat down as
the professor was writing
on the board)

             please do not feed the green elephants

I
Myself
have a strong suspicion
that Your mind is
as You read this
(hidden in a carefully cupped notebook)
spilling
black ink particles
across
existence
running
onto the very next          page

                    You write that
You imagine everything is beautiful
                   except for death

                   it is an ugly thing

              yet still the chisel gouges

    i whistle a catcall
at my blushing bride
      llac ot eltsihw i
   edis ym ot god ym

        through the crumbling protests
               of the reluctant stone

                                    each new line
                                    tampers with space
                                    holds suspect time
                                    postpones the end
                                    and evades death

You breathe
               You write
You sing
                You live

You casually craft causality

         yet craft on
         surely You are not yet done
         You may never be
         at this rate but
         but
         STOP

the World reblurs then blows away
listen closely here I say
all Things must come to End one day

You
Yourself

have tasted the                      Hunger
                        of Greed
seen the                                 Zeal
                       of Hatred
heard the                               Stories
                       of Genocide
felt the                                   Loss
                      ­ of War
and smelled the                    Decay
                       of Truth

                      this             is Mine
                                 what’s Mine, is Yours...
This is a major revision to the original, which was written in 2012 after getting off a night shift at the hospital.  I will probably never be done revising this, because practically every time I read it I change something.  

As it is very much in the spirit of the piece to involve You the reader, any and all revision proposals will be given serious consideration, although creative license is of course reserved.
Tony Scallo Sep 2014
Every time my heart beats for you now
It tampers with the richter scale
Of anxiety within me.

And provokes the wake of a tidal wave
To swallow it
Within a rip tide of depression
And sweep me out to an emotional ocean
Without a paddle in sight.

I'm too far out
I can only use my hands
To get back to the shore I can't see.
I believe that every conscious being travels this road
Where nothing is completely given or reached
Where everything completely stop but never goes
This road diverged into either the left path or right
plagued with the  decision of making a choice
The pressure of that inner voice
Speaking to you
of the consequences of each action
the good never out weigh  the bad
The consequences never worth the results
The action of always sacrificing something in terms of ganging
It is the  road that you cannot venture away
No matter where you turn
you always end up returning
this road is one who tampers with your mental capacity
Your morality
Your happiness
Your individuality
It happened too those before
and will to those after me
what a progressional tragedy
Remi Leroy Apr 2017
she just wants to be loved so badly
she just craves warmth too much
she gave all of it away hoping to get it back
but gambling with The Fates is rough
she longs for the moon which watches her at night
the off-white toothless smile has got her back

yet when day comes the moonlight fades
and with the warmth the moon leaves
the moon doesn't offer warmth and the light deceives
in the long, cold and black sky the moon watches

she just wants fruits she can never taste
a blooming in her heart she'll forever have
day and night
The Fates do not waver
they do not fall to tampers
perhaps they pitied her and took the moon away
letting her bask in the warmth she craved
day by day
hoping she'll walk out of the darkness
and stop the fruitless search of a crescent
170418
Base 8 May 2018
_ listen to this ! so you want me to lay some answers, please state that you demand it
any specific font? Before I say I'm cancerous, wait I'm gonna hand it
to be specific I don't try to play badass, but mate you said you saw stampers that says I'm a bandit
I may be a pessimist, but I won't say I'm broken, not like break dancers, a bit late for first aid, this needs more than a bandage
many things on my wishing list, got to get a sword, I'm out attacking campers in a raid, take the hunting bate to make a sandwich
I'm over slipping the wrist, but I can't hold a knife, the hand tampers the body, some scars are hand made, I look at my face and I can't stand it
I'm stepped over by an elephant, rot and I feel like an old shape of wildlife, as my bravery scampers away like a puppy, it's a turtle race but I'm a handicapped rabbit
see I'm a mentalist, I'll unveil the untold stories of anyone's life,who am I ? I don't think it matters, but once I stayed on the red planet
I know my words seem irrelevant, I'm just cold inside, imagine that non of the bankers gave you a loan, so you stayed alone, crippled by hate, dying slow under your blanket
attention to my words, I'm the lumberjack to the rotten wood of my family tree, there's no heart cold as mine
detention never works on the thunderclap with his forgotten childhood, clapping happily in every political party, no cake for the minor pushed to start a career in the coal mine
tension when I mention that Karl Marx isn't the worst, people may wonder that I'm from the hood, but I'm actually worse than that the body and soul ain't fine
this invention is backfiring on his lords, like a finger snapped, no I'm not good, the legacy get ****** but no one follows me, and I can't find my role I'm ...


_so it seems that every time I pick the pencil
Everything I write has to suspenseful
You say it's hard, that's not right it's simple
I don't know it's just like popping a pimple
It's not that important, would it give me the life of Paris Hilton_



so what do you know about being broke, so broke that your body parts floats away in pieces
just to let you know I no longer feel like a human being, wishing for a heart stroke, and the peace is
_ death , it's easier than the things I'm seeing, but it seems far I'm gonna use my own rope, so help me Jesus
or I can meet Beth, she helps in my healing, I hope I can do it in some recess
mess and emptiness is the only things I'm feeling, note that I have a heart inside not just feces
_ **** and Molly percocets, are helping me agreeing, I thought it'll ignite the fire of will, but now I stand here as it freezes
_ ladies I don't like to shed light on me, probably you won't like what you'll see, most likely you won't like me cause the most is ain't like me, anyone likes tea ? In the ninja Turtles mentality I'm a mix between Donatello and Mikey, we're the same hight, man it's getting exciting, who wants something to do with the kid from pikes peak, he's slightly weird , but still he manged to grow a beard. Still do you wanna fight me, I just said I'm a ninja and my blades are spiky. Staying still but I might be dead, you'd probably wanna check my vital signs and the pulse in my neck, but don't bother I was diagnosed as a corpse clinically, I won't come back please don't beg there's nothing I can do technically
never give a knife to a criminal, tonight don't put the light on in your living room, act normal despite the bodies in the swimming pool, it's OK act like a fool when see me pushing stool off the wooden stool with a spoon under the light of the luminous moon, when I talked like  this  sounded cool, I never had fight in the  elementary school, I spent all the nights abiding rules, but others on the sight of opportunity would dribble and drool, alright this is enough to deliver the message, you didn't feel it it's subliminal


*
you're just praising my talent
But I wish I never had it
Couldn't have anything else instead
But If I  didn't have it I wouldn't have something to spaz with
I got loose like a black panther now ain't that right Chadwick *

Do re me
_ so I'm just a wanna be
wanna be human ob-vious-ly
I don't know about hu-man-ity
but there's a less of a human left in me
I'd like it actually
_ if my blood would stop in my pulmonary artery
it's no urinary pathology
I just like to *** publicly
I'm just impolite right daddy?
the worst day in my life is when you had me
if wanna disgust me
you'd better pay me some money
_ it's hard to throw up with an empty
stomach but it's OK I can't feel my belly
and hey I'm not here to cause controversy
but ******* nursing
and please don't wait for an apology
play the violin my name has dropped, heading to the asylum because my songs on the stage has flopped, I'm a murderer hear the sirens it's not what for I hoped , I wish I could just caged it inside and then with it I could have coped
but it's amazing how the cops came to tase me, trying to place me on the ground of the hall, but I was trying to act the way they rased me please let me go,but why won't you place me, what would you name me literally a lunatic or generally crazy, go ahead amaze me
_8_
Brian McDonagh May 2018
There stands a mental tendency
To match a certain emotion
With a particular person
And call it ordinary.

At some point in time,
That person’s usual emotion
With take a detour,
Blinding the eye with unrecognition.

Somehow and in some way,
Someone will be bothered
By the sudden shift
Of what seemed to be emotional normalcy before.

If it’s too good to be true,
Then guilt will press the one affected
With the motivation to bring back
What was before.

When it seems that the world
Returns to its original axis of position
And that person acts like themselves again,
We rejoice that what was seen as a dream
Was fleeting,
Because as long as pain tampers bone,
We’re still on our way.
Please note that this poem, of course, like most poems, has a flexible interpretation: this could describe something as simple as someone acting unusually peppy one day or a case that has more of a medical density.  Either way, just wanted to point that out because this isn't limited to grave matters.
Flow Jul 2018
"My heart is what tampers my parts"
:)
Classy J Jan 2021
These are the laws of the wild,
A corporate claw that defiles,
Heavens sacred isle,
Cursed to a birth,
Assigned soul sent to earth,
Where it’s all matter of survival.
And once we die, we’re returned to dirt.
But while some sulk in denial,
Others get to work.
Building foundations to gain perks.
Evolving to a state that reasserts.
A need to control other folks.
Into hierarchical jokes,
That turns hopes to a hoax.
Where freedoms are revoked.
And it would take different strokes,
To not just evoke but promote,
Voices that used to be chocked.(18)

To become a master,
Of your inner monster,
Fighting to not be censored,
And not being ****** as a cancer.
Needing to know when to strike the hammer.
For untamed anger,
Leads to disaster.
That tampers one’s honour.
Instead of fostering composure,
Your creating battlefields for soldiers.
To become a master,
One must use love to conquer,
I know it may seem bonkers,
But to prosper,
One must alter,
The very fibres,
Of society that cause people to suffer.
To be a master,
You must recognize you are stronger,
Than your oppressor,
Got to weather the storm,
Don’t conform to the pressure.
Beware of what appears to be nectar.
For it can actually be a poisoned fuelled sceptre.
Never let yourself believe that you’re lesser,
If you do you might as dress up like a jester,
That mocks the very sacrifices of ones ancestors.
And always remember,
What it takes to be a master.
Flow Jul 2018
My heart is what tampers my parts
:)

— The End —