"tier" poems
They say marriage is all about compromise. If that's the case, newlyweds Kia Parsons and Billy Bunning are off to an excellent start.
The UK couple had different visions when it came to their wedding cake; the bride wanted an all-white tiered cake with cascading sugar flowers. The groom, on the other hand, wanted to incorporate his love of comic book superheroes into the confection. So they met somewhere in the middle:
Julia Baker of Tier by Tier cake design created the cake for the couple's August 14 wedding in Milton Keynes, England. One side is the traditional-looking cake the bride wanted. On the other side, icing curtains reveal the logos of Marvel characters Captain America, Spider-Man and Iron Man, as well as Batman from the DC Comics camp.
"I loved every minute making this cake, as I knew it would be something that people would be surprised at and appeal to all the Marvel fans!" Julia told The Huffington Post.
In all, she spent 40 hours on the cake. It took 12 hours to make the sugar flowers, and the cake-baking and building took about 28 hours.
Needless to say, Kia and Billy were thrilled with the finished product.
"Julia did such a fantastic job and we were completely overwhelmed by how brilliant it looked!" the bride told HuffPost. "From most angles of the room, the cake looked like a traditional wedding cake -- just what we had wanted. It wasn't until the cake was moved for us to cut that our guests realized there was a hidden extra. Some didn't even realize until the photos went online after the wedding!"
On Tuesday, a photo of the cake began going viral when it was shared by the Life Of Dad Facebook page.
"I was surprised at how popular it was and how quickly the pictures circulated on social media," Julia said. "I have plenty more ideas to work on and I am calling these 'double-take cakes.'"
read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth
www.marieaustralia.com/white-formal-dresses
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
An away game at Leeds!
The Loiner Lion will have its feeds.
So it was, back in the day
When Revie’s Men held full sway.
Reaney, Charlton, Hunter, Cooper,
That defence was really super.
David Harvey, ‘keeper complete,
Guaranteed a solid clean sheet.
The midfield ruled by Bremner and Giles,
Billy’s energy, Johnny’s wiles.
Lorimer and Gray down the wings,
Recalling Eddie (Gray), oh my heart sings.
Jones and Clarkey gave us goals,
Lots of them, shoals and shoals.
73-74 our greatest year,
Opponents always full of fear.
Man U relegated that season too,
Better days there were very few.
We won the league by a merry mile,
Time to smile as we did it in style.
In 69 we lost just two from 42.
Opponents didn’t know what to do.
Burnley and City our only losses,
Otherwise we were the bosses.
92 was another good year,
Man U crying in their beer.
Then we sold them Cantona,
That really was a bridge too far.
The rest is history as they say;
We strive again to have our day.
In the second tier on Italian money,
Seeking the land of milk and honey.
The Premiership’s the place where we should be,
Please Messi, join us, on a free!
We hanker for those glory days.
God please help us with your mysterious ways.
Paul Butters
© PB 11\9\2015.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 5:42 AM UTC
The way a candle dies amazes me
A strong tier of wax
Simple
With only a string within it
Dies slowly
As it gives off light
Melting wax
Drips and drips
Until all that's left is a puddle
It amazes me how
Something that gave off so much light
In times of darkness
Ended up finding itself
Sitting in the same darkness
It had tried so hard to enlighten.
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 2:55 PM UTC
I dismiss the attention nobody pays,
To the way I stay in games for days,
They say "You're wasting your time away",
But I'll play till I hit the grave,
Cause,
One more level, another point, another match,
Double **** triple **** don't crash,
Every day, getting better, no sweat,
Zero deaths, forty kills, no regret,
Top tier, s rank, winning streak,
Don't lose, don't die, not weak,
Can't miss, gotta win, don't quit,
Flanking, execution, legit,
We've got Contacts, reload,
Spawn traps, implode,
Bringing heavy artillery,
This is the Gamer's Creed.
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 11:03 PM UTC
sure, first we had the schism
of the church & state...
"oddly" enough...
we now live in the 2nd tier
of schism -
the segregation of
state & media...
no?
really?
we're not?!
i'm kind of enjoying
this ongoing schismatics -
the segregation of church
from state, at least left us with
the Vatican (i.e. the church-state) -
but this, current...
segregation of state from
the media?
**** me cram my testicles
into a monkey-wrench
and subsequently watch me laugh...
and there i was thinking,
that psychiatrists,
were the new priests of
the secular age...
prescribing the alt. to
the metaphor of cannibalism
in the form of big pharmacological
pills, to replace the wafer for
bread,
or the watered down wine /
grape juice of the...
so how does that party trick goes?
is that the wine turned into blood?
symbolically:
turned water into wine:
flag-wise...
white,
cardinal...
and then burgundy of
cardinal red teasing the bishopric
coloring of purple?
i'm not here to undermine
the faith...
i'm here for the self-deprecating
humo(u)r...
you don't even require
atheism to get a laugh
out of the conundrum -
you, simply need...
the deviation from the catholic
rites...
an apostasy -
but sure as **** it's there...
secularism has allowed
journalism a monastic status...
first came the schism of
church from state -
which remained intact in
the church-state of the Vatican...
so... FAIL...
secondly had to come
the schism of the state from
the media...
i'm watching a schism
take place...
apparently...
the comparative concern
of church's divorce from
the state was easy,
having imploded into the Vatican...
but the divorce of
the media from the state?
apparently... not so easy...
the media is already locking-down
on obstructing the schism -
arguing from an entertainment
perspective...
a century or so later,
and still, the persistent,
media symbolism -
of crafting caricatures of
a state...
as the state embodied in
nothing more than subordination
to its will...
media is the new church...
and if the separation of the state
from the church took so long...
how much time, do you "think",
it will it take, for the state
to segregate itself, from the media
baronage?
i suspect - as much time as it
took to segregate itself from
the church's cardinal-lineage.
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 11:34 PM UTC
/ innocent until prōven guilty,
contra guilty until
prōven innocent...
ah!
so the minority report?
guilty, while innocent,
based upon a premonition?
hindsight with a zodiac
type of interpretation...
innocent until prōven guilty
has no superiority
in practice over the continental
guilty until prōven innocent...
no... because the principle invokes
presuppositions,
of suppositions...
treating the two as propositions -
or rather... "verbs" inacted...
innocent until prōven guilty -
then no understanding of freedom,
at least guilty until prōven innocent
allows understanding
restraint, however unfair,
with 18 years lost...
and then the tears of relief!
Tomasz Komenda...
an "espionage" case of staging
empathy...
en masse...
an innocent man walks away
from falsely imposed justice measures...
a redemption...
a count de monte cristo
allowance...
but in reverse?
the evil man walks free...
succumbing to old age,
and dementia, a pontius pilate pardon...
there is no redemption aspect
of the saxon course of applying jurisprudence...
the... innocent, until prōven guilty,
contra: guilty until prōven innocent
schizophrenia?
the latter overshadows
the former...
because we're not babies...
at least with the latter:
there's a redemption exegesis -
but with the former?
bitter-sweet tears within
the confines, of an example akin
to jimmy savile...
guilty until prōven innocent
has much more authentic emotional
content, with a redemption narrative...
innocent until prōven guilty
has? not much,
just a grave,
and the stunted emotional expression,
what ought to be flowers
within the heart,
instead: fungus, growing in the dark...
and thus... translating
to other hearts:
let's allow this chemo-phobia
chemo-philia experiment
be left intact in its the momentum...
honestly... the study of law -
is probably the ********* game
in the allowance of games of
adulthood... one tier above gambling.
p.s.
because you know there's proof:
and that the past-participle
thrown into a future, does require
an omega rather than an omicron...
not an oh, but an ooh...
hence? reign from above,
on the omicron, with a macron (ō).
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 12:34 PM UTC
Slimy sea feet.
Sandy salt tongues.
Gabby gulls and cautious *****
Boardwalk smiles and sticky ice cream fingers.
Ripened hearts and eager tide eyes.
Tears in my ears from the satisfied sun seeking silence.
This is where I belong.
This is where I know God.
I don’t belong in a town that can offer me nothing.
I don’t belong in a massive city that’ll swallow me up.
I don’t belong at silly soirees or late night parties.
I don’t belong at the top tier or down with the underdogs.
I belong on the shores.
I belong arm in arm with my confidantes, walking through downtown streets of some sweet town.
I belong hand in hand with my true companion with our toes in the sand.
I belong sipping soda with my sisters giggling endlessly as we watch some cheesy chick flick.
I belong hugging my mama who I will never stop loving for an instant.
I belong sitting with my father drinking tea in the purest, sweetest silence, for that is how we were made to be.
I belong listening to my dad’s tall tales and my mothers soothing words.
I belong holding my stomach with my face streaked with tear drops from some joke that is only funny if you were there.
I belong forever in the future with that one, the one whom was made for me; the Tilney to my Catherine.
I belong holding the gazes of my friends as we try to hold back our cackles, tears, and even our own words.
I belong in the waves of the sea.
I only belong in the happiest of salty tears.
I can’t belong where I’m too afraid to face my fears.
I won’t belong in broken gears.
I’ll not for a moment belong in heartbroken wares.
I’ve never belonged in them, but they live inside me.
They have and always will be
My demons and my skeletons
Yet you will always see them on my sleeves
So everyone can see they do not devour me.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC
By day he wore a face of stone,
a man at work, a man at home.
Mid-tier, mid-forties, fading fast,
a shadow built to never last.
Unseen, unseen, the hours crawled,
his name half-heard, his voice forestalled.
Reliable. Invisible.
Forgettable. Admissible.
But night —
night gave him another skin,
a grinning mask, a skeleton grin.
Blurry selfies, pumpkin puns,
cheap delights for midnight ones.
And they laughed.
They saw.
He mattered more
than the man he’d left behind the door.
She answered louder than the rest,
late-twenties, lonely, dispossessed.
Her laughter quick, replies too fast,
his irony returned as gospel, cast.
“I know this isn’t you,” she said.
“I want the man who hides instead.”
He recoiled.
Deleted.
Ghosted.
Fled.
But silence is a mask that turns,
and absence is a fire that burns.
3:33, the phone alight,
a skeleton meme each waiting night.
3:33, a plastic hand,
a note enclosed: You’ll understand.
3:33, the offering grows —
a pumpkin smashed, its seeds exposed.
Her love became a ritual rhyme,
his jokes became a curse in time.
“You don’t get to leave,” she swore,
“You owe me you, forevermore.”
And he —
the man who sought the crowd,
who wanted laughter, not too loud,
who craved the gaze but feared the weight,
found every mask could seal his fate.
No one is innocent here, no one.
Not the trickster, not the one undone.
He wore deception like a shield,
she made obsession her battlefield.
Now only one mask still remains —
cheap plastic grin through windowpanes.
Spoopy, childish, still, absurd,
yet sharper than his final word.
The curtains gap, the silence bends,
a tilted grin that never ends.
And he knows, beneath the grin so slight:
her mask will never leave the night.
Sep 22, 2025
Sep 22, 2025 at 4:41 AM UTC
I admit that in the past I was a nice guy
But I think it's time I better make a switch
So you'll find that nowadays
I've changed all my ways!
I've slaughtered, spilled their blood, oh yes a switch!
Oh Yes!
And I fortunately don't care about you
It's a feeling that I do not posses
Oh my fans, I think it's time
To end them all just like those Limes*
Of all the Trolls so the story can progress
Poor Unfortunate Trolls!
In Pain,In Need!
D--> That one longing to be less Sweaty
This one wwants to get the girl
Should I help them?
NOT AT ALL!
Poor Unfortunate Trolls
So sad, so true
they come flocking to the fourth wall crying
Please Hussie, Please!
and do I help them?
NO SIR E!
Now it's happened once or twice
I did something really nice
but then next update
I RACKED EM CROSS THE COALS!
And I hear your sighs and complaints
but I simply am a Saint! (I made them after all)
To these Poor Unfortunate Trolls
---
Every Troll in either Session will be Slaughtered!
There's a lot of trolls to **** that's for sure.
The Kids in either session may stay
but I will **** them another day
and if they die then they'll go god tier yawn bore
Until you all adore you Huss
say goodbye since Haitus, my dear fans
In a sweep, and a song
the story will move along
and the pain, yes the pain will start again**!
Come on you
Poor Unfortunate Fans
Go ahead
hail your Huss!
I'm the creator
Their Maker
and I've got Eternal life***
If you speak against me
then boohoo
You Poor Unfortunate Trolls
Life ***** for you
If you want to go adventuring
then you have to pay the toll
**** it up and get to dying for me
since I'm in full control!
And with my precious power, dear
All their heads will roll!
These
POOR
UNFORTUNATE
TROLLS!~
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 11:05 PM UTC
She said there was zero squared chance of reconciliation
That our lives were not the circle she dreamed,
But two separate lines diverging at a point
Arranged in rays, and some other math terms I never understood
Because she finished top of her class, myself a comforting third
Tier, of the last tier, of those who made it through the door.
And the story has stayed the same, regardless of the term change
I was back in school, receiving a bad grade,
Thanking God for the bell curve, which rang
"Some things always stay the same, but keep trying anyway"
And my averages will remain somewhere between middle of the line
And the bottom of the drain.
So
I will raise my hand for hope,
I will raise my hand for shame,
I will raise my hand to look good,
And to never learn
Quite exactly what I should.
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
Breaking his enthusiasm as my pencil spasm insanely random like a Gatlin cannon my magnum blastin shots taken so I'm shootin then walking off like cam Nuked'm these civil lies causing an evolution I'm killing guys its the only solutions dude blowing smoke too much pollution on the same page until I go rampage and start looting enraged second phase using the bars from my cage to punch lines through these frames I'm battle rappin as quick as they can match'em let it happen captain Hook I'll patch ' em in tandom with passion my fraction got these ******* trashing like DJs scratching I'm thirsty for action these weapons I'm packing get rowdy they start clapping like jacks sons put a cap in your captain capitalize off what happens I'll top 5 of your top 10 you fighting for your life I'm just saying one with a slight of hand I'm disarming this man King of Kings Schooling these Lord of rings on thier aim, I'm top tier they lame I'm **** ' em all with the same ball and chain pen dragging them all to my hall of slain, this a deadly game, and I bringing the major pain.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
I wrote this for a slam to explain who I am
It's PoetryByMAN
Yes I am a pseudonym
Mystery I provoke
Take it in let it soak
Word playing every stroke
Savor every ****
Next level set the tier
I'm here to make it clear
Though Twisted is the mirror
Rhymes you shouldn't fear
Competition vital
Here questing for the title
Who shall be my rival
In this game of survival
Hit with love
Vibrating like a hub
Ba doom Ba doom
Hit like a Sub...Woofer...
Heart full not hallow
LIKE ME!
If there was a button would you follow?
Messenger I am
Also I'm a fan
Diggity **** he thinks he's a rapper man
Simple..direct
Vocabulary wreck
All due respect..
Don't want to be correct
Commercial break watch me pop my snapple
Many skills acquired hope my talent is ample
Kung fu poet
Choose style I'll flow it
Talent the seed
Nurture grow it
From my bones
A melodic tone
Comfort comes from coming home
Shaman Buddha
Hybrid to school you
Sand a vibe
Runs right through you
Play my part
In this world of art
Butterfly to a new start
Blow nose with prose
Words without flow
Stand on stage
Put on a show
Hope you enjoyed PoetryByMAN
Spoken in 3rd I am
Blogs on tumblr..Facebook can't stand
Throw all in the air top rope poetry SLAM!!
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 7:03 PM UTC
you kidding me, right?
nachos? tacos? tortilla wraps?
guacamole molé molé?
sombrero(s)...
the revised eastern european
moustache?
tequila!
that's it?
well... not if you consider
the second tier of soy boys -
the ones that drink that...
budscheiss that's
"der könig aus bier"...
one word... no... actually two:
CER-VE(H)-ZA(H) -
probably the spanish word,
that sounds better than all
the other spanish words...
what did mexíxíxíxíco give
us?
the orthodox script
of a german beer:
yeast, hops, barley, malt,
water... fizz: boom!
a fine summer's day...
mexíxíxíxíco beer?
MALTED, BARLEY...
don't ask me how the genius
figured out a smoothness
so subtle,
that you actually had to shove
a lime wedge into the neck
of the bottle...
or, as i did - buying an almost litre
sized bottle,
and a lime -
looking at this ***** goliath
at the checkout thinking:
david?
am i david?
did we really enslave such people?
david, meet goliath...
goliath wanders off like some
happy ****** giggling and brings
another strawberry milkshake
to the checkout...
so the west, enslaved these
nearing 7ft Baobabs?
king david's audacity,
nothing more...
so i buy the CO(H)-RHO-NA(H),
and a lime (30 pence a piece)...
**** no knife...
guess teeth will have to do...
shove a whole lime in bits and bites
and walk on...
seriously?
guacamole molé molé?
that's the best you can do?
drinking a beer with lime...
compared to the h'american
budscheiss?
who... apart from the japanese...
extracts alcohol...
from: ******* rice!
malted, barley...
whoever that sergio
sanchez was...
hats off to him...
sometimes it's just nice...
to take a break from the heavy cavalry,
orthodoxy brew of german
beers...
americans?
know jackshit about brewing
a decent beer...
mexicans?
they put a lime in it!
**** you have to drink it!
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 6:44 PM UTC
Fade to scene--pallet: blue and green--wide shot; mood: serene.
Establish view; a stock or few; pan right to view a distant two.
A hazy rim; we cut to HIM--so clean and prim--just as we hear the hymn...
A tear rolls down his chin. The brightness dims; music shifts to grim.
Cue the screams; cut the scene.
We're back in the now and the mood is mean.
HE'S back in a view--pallet: black and blue--the shot askew.
The mood's muted; sounds of shooting. Cue dialog:
"Look what you did..."
Camera jerks; extreme closeup: a smirk; let the ANTAGONIST work.
The wire crew's here. HERO sheds a tear. Signal stuntman on the tier.
Orchestra on my mark...
Deliver line then cut to dark.
Light's back to reality. The view won't change, you see.
There's no crew or doubles. Just a wide sea of troubles.
No second shots; no calling "CUT"; it's all open-shut.
It's not like a filmmaker's lens; it's not just pretend.
Let me script this out what you're all about:
An overconfident lout, but backlit with doubt.
All part of a cast, direct you like I did the last.
I see that you're furious, but you're hardly fast.
Now I'll produce the fear as the shoot draws near--
I've got the schedule set; we're not finished here!--
You're calling "cut," but I'm just cutting you more,
And then I'll edit you out on the cutting room floor.
I appreciate that you feel you've come so far,
But never forget this is MY movie, and I'm the STAR!
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
Chased by demons born in childhood fear
Nightmares reclaim their former tier
The man with no eyes sent to steal my sight
Run and hide, panic causes my flight
Concealed in my haven; I hear his infestation
Bewildered and enraged at his vile molestation
Hidden, my breath catches, silence falls, heart pounds
Frozen in fright, steps fall near, voiceless scream, I’m found.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 11:03 PM UTC
Here I can't explain you the date,
May be it's humanities fate.
We have reached a way higher,
In science and technologies tier.
The age is of time,
Where you can sublime.
Into the verses of technology,
Into the time and space's analogy.
This is the era of warm-holes,
And the era of time travel,
In which you can travel whole,
Into the any world's navel.
Set up to stop the light and time,
And get into between of it,
To hear the travelling chime,
From that dark narrow slit.
Getting into the dark tunnel,
Moving, getting deep inside,
Rather shaped like a funnel,
You get into the time's ride.
Jun 22, 2020
Jun 22, 2020 at 4:33 AM UTC
its tha return of tha gangsta thanks to ya
too many blacks out here livin' they life in fear
families seeing tears problems tier
blurry visions make it hard to see clear my dear
cant get through the atmosphere
feel me it's the return of the gangsta I'd like to thank ya
Malcolm for giving me the principles and reaching a few people's
opening minds to grinds and you'll find
me chilling on the corner puffing marijuana yep I'm a gonna
in society outlaw outcast put my thoughts on blast
techs is humming cuz I smell war coming armies drumming
po folks crying innocent victims dying
for no apparent reasons caught in daily treasons which gives me a reasons to put an end to Americas sin but too many folks stuck in
a fantAsy called reality in actuality
they plotting our burials G
troops overseas findings empty caves so the government can make saves war profiteers racketeering gangsters hustlers
exposing lies don't be a busta like a Douglass no diamonds in my cutlass couldn't move so I had cut less people out of my circle I'm nerdy as urkel yea my intellect carefully selects
what's real from reality I envision myself as well as my enemies in a fatality so battling me I was made for war built off the backs of my ancestors sore yea white house was built by the slaves for white supremacy kind of irony they sayin' my folks was lazy?
worked up from Sun up to Sun down
I can't believe my folks walking with they heads towards the grounds
how bout we get mad and let off gun sounds pound for pound
you know they can't hang with us
that's why they had to make laws against us
scared of rise and corruptions ain't a surprise through the eyes
of real people who realize pain ain't a substitution for happiness bliss
I guess I was sunkissed
by wisdom mouth open hail Mary entered me and told me
we all family eyes lit no **** no fit nothing
but a glowing brain exemption of fame down goes my name
in the book of life made wisdom my wife
she took my arm she's my charm
as I glance at the souls gunned down on plantations farms gangsta....
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 2:49 PM UTC
.*pre-scriptum alternatives... either a bus-driver... or a garbage-man... ha ha... Leibniz... was a ******* librarian!*
a zookeeper,
a warden in a prison...
or some obscure,
accolade role
in an asylum...
i'm being pushed the role
of a chemistry teacher...
mind you... i know that the best
way to pet cats,
is to "ignore" them,
let them play their
solipsistic hide & seek game
with plain view of the target...
but i'm thinking of 3 dream jobs...
horticulture isn't an option...
must be the sort of man
with a floral pattern
rather than a sky-scraper
in my underwear
to provide gender
exclusive role play...
whatever the hell the means...
but teaching children
chemistry?
d'ah ****
i want to be on the forefront...
a gorilla zookeeper,
a prison warden,
an accolade
for what's the upper tier
of nursing,
namely, inside an asylum...
but i won't ever get a chance
to prospect myself for such roles...
hence the poetry...
given that i'm a chronic drunk
in England, but a sober
sparrow in Poland...
come to think of it...
i'm ever only drunk,
when i start talking...
alone, drinking?
i can catch a judge
play-thing sober...
but those are my dream
jobs...
and in all three instances...
none, are advertised for
potential applicants...
like a safe pass into a business of
past, trans-generational funeral homes...
just like they said:
it's not what you know,
it's who you know -
unless of course there's a merger,
and you're thinking
about emperor Nero stabbing
himself in the neck...
within the confines of a self
acknowledgment, "question".
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 8:29 PM UTC
ohlil'elf I SPEAK magictricity
boastsevenafter manyayear
myluv TO THEE, 2b a dynamo
myheritage isasoft taleincandy apple gold
AND THEE IS HER, AND SHE IS THEE, dirtdiggerdigup edgars poems; AND TO W H O M I REFER.
andso COULD SHE BE oncemine
protectherfromAS MUCH damage
as oncewas INTO ME itseems
AS I AM INTO HER?
we'll see
AND IF SO, THEN THIS PLEA FROM ME WITH W O E F U L
rocket TEAR,
stars WILL NOT GO TOO LONG moon
ringing UNANSWERED HERE, opalstone
iou FOR HER SILENCE HURTS, BUT IS inpearly gems
R A R E.
benfranklin deadseafrom SO FAR AWAY! acrimsonsky and YET SO NEAR! even tiny bugs heedseen
we arewherewe are
BUT I WISH YOU WERE NEARER, DEAR! indialogue
love-in-a-mist
lone BECAUSE stars
by EACH DOMINION dawns
early ON SUCH OCCASION light
silver MUST UNWIND, streak
bombs SO AS TO burst
solely BE a sole
redredrosy
heaven REBORN IN THE MORNING SHINE, sent
RETURNING AS GLORIOUS and
mighty AND AS FRESH AS THE NEW DAY SKY, might he
repent
once AND THEREUPON SHOULDST CARRY ON upon
adream WITHOUT IMPERFECT MOAN OR a my tier
luving SIGH. ofluv
fortunate I PLEAD WITH THEE TO MANUMIT cookie
wrench YOUR TIGHTENED CLASP chromium
calcium THAT BINDS, petalstems
ouija heArts knoweth
asdf REST fdsa
zxcv YOUR WEARY vcxz
lkjh HEAD A BIT ON MINE, hjkl
mnbv AND EASE INTO PLEASANT REVERIES. vbnm
yeseth noeth
isitasif or asis youwillhaveme
oh AFTER ALL, THE DUSK HAS COME TO GIVE REST TO THEE, to all
pay AND I AM YOURS AND YOURS AM I notmuchattention
to me yet
openmetoyour -I AM RESTFUL SLEEP. interpretation
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 6:47 PM UTC
What can I say that I've broken the Baha'i Fast so that I won't be overly anxious on a busy day at the restaurant?
Using my arms and back to wash dishes.
Tactile placement of the feet around co-workers.
Remembering every detail needed for deliveries.
Baha'u'llah has exempted heavy labor from the Fast.
I couldn't do my work without constant water and a store of calories.
But what of smoking on work days?
What would God think?
The fact that I'm overly anxious at work without them has made me know how addicted I am.
So anxious as to question whether I should quit work.
"Don't do that to me again," my body tells itself, "last night was too much anxiety to simply be without smokes."
I suppose my soul will go to a tier of the afterlife where people are addicted to cigarettes.
Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 4:22 PM UTC
Vast, empty, midnight hour,
hunchbacked lampposts glaring over parasitic black earth
choking its host.
A parking lot,
an ecosystem’s blemish—
hot tar seeping into the pores of the earth
like a stubborn blackhead in a lip line.
When no cars burrow into the blackened hide
like lice
the great absence of life
is an atrocity.
I imagine myself skateboarding across the tier
as the small town cops
watch languidly with vague interest—
A skateboarder’s paradise
where wheels and accomplice minds roll across celestial barriers
blasting infinite pulses
into the microcosm.
What greasy punks have their mother’s van parked here,
huddling by the heat vents
and jerking off into a Pringle’s can?
Empty parking lot
looks like a cemetery
filled to the brim
where headstones meld
over a mass grave—
delineated by white lines,
the apparitions of vehicles and their hosts
haunt the frozen space.
Another horrible excuse
to waste land,
a wasteland in and of itself
where Tom Eliot saunters aimlessly
and buries the dead.
The saddest sight to behold,
this vacuous parking lot
littered with stray shopping carts,
phantasmal plastic bags,
gum splotches,
***** stains,
candy wrappers,
cigarette butts,
used condoms,
lonely cops
and patient drug dealers,
ambulant skaters,
tired punks,
bored teenagers,
somnambulists,
stumbling drunks,
hunchbacked ***** lights
prying for life beneath its sallow gaze—
The air encapsulated within the perdition
stifling,
the pavement below stifling,
a constriction only visible
when emptied of its contents.
A cop wakes from their choking nightmare gasping
to find themselves trapped,
****** in this parking lot
where the walkie-talkie buzzes
with the weeping and gnashing of teeth.
The warehouse store
looming above the waiting room
lifeless, silent, dark countenance—
Big Brother sees all in the gaping maw.
Cascading before me,
stretching towards the highway passing by,
waiting for the panorama to finish scrolling,
the treadmill to cease its cycle—
all the while lamenting life’s absence
and reveling in the potentiality it possesses.
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 10:18 PM UTC
Twist and twist
That's what they all do
Twist and twist
**** those insides of mine
Why can't they learn that I don't like to tango
"Eye Spy with my little eye"
The reason why my insides learn to dance
Feats of contortion on display
Each pair of salsa dancers going for the gold
These duos never know when to quit
They want those mighty 10s but...
**** this brain of mine
This little dancer is satisfied with last place
He once was prized to finish out top tier
**** this brain, stop shaking feathers
Get the foxtrot down and finish this waltz
otherwise let the inside rest they having feelings too
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 5:53 AM UTC
Cancer that murderous thing
can happen to all and kin
and the suffer and fear
will make you pray on the tier
Don't think God is easy
as he kills all over the world
he did not slaughter millions
not with his might almighty
Oh yes he did not want children to die
but oh dear he is a child killer
and what in Cambodia
and the rest oh these wicked wars
More then I can really believe
you have done to yourselves
none here have sanity in heaven
for you lead the Earth to hell
For you are Cancer
a wound on earth
you died long before
at the day of your birth
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 3:29 PM UTC