Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sum It Sep 2014
There is this kind of time in everyone’s life. That was what I was told. I was also told I was peculiar in a nice way. But I am not going deep down all this time and peculiar thing and all. It is just that sometimes I feel so empty and I was also told that when you try to write something you should try your best to describe all sorts of stuffs so that the readers will get to know the kind of thing you are feeling. Like for now, the kind of empty I am feeling. Kind of funny though, who would want to know what I am feeling and on top of that who would want to know the kind of empty I was feeling. Anyway, I was feeling very empty yesterday and I am writing all this because I just thought it was pretty cool to feel empty, kind of, just like that. I am not being emotional and all but that is how it is, you like to feel sort of lonely, sad, happy or whatever at time, just like that. And when I driving on my bike, I speed it up to the most it can bear or most I can bear and twist and turn and run over other motor bikes and stuffs that are moving in the road in a kind of modest way but I know they are as ******* as I am. But hell with that, I don’t want to know if anyone is ******* or not. I can’t even think about the right word to replace the *******. But, you know what I mean. It’s kind of sad to find that everyone is *******. Then, that makes me madder and I speed up more. I start to rip apart my accelerator, literally. You know what literally mean, don’t you? It’s when you do something in a literal way just like when some lousy guy start acting out too corny while they say they will bring down the stars and moons for the girl they love.  To hell with love, love is the stupidest thing that will ever again happen to me and if that happens then I will crown myself with all kind of stupid crowns and be the king of stupid. But love was kind of good feeling too.  Anyway I just try not to end up breaking my neck when I am in bike. But you know then I just intently look at the something something that is coming towards me and then I feel like speeding up more and just encounter that innocent ***** face to face. Yeah, I mean it. I feel like pointing the direction of my bike right to that something something truck or stuffs that, just like you know when an archer aims. You know then, I also have this shrewd kind of look in my eyes, like I am dead serious about what I am going to do. Its fun when you know you won’t but you act like you will. Yeah, I just feel like heading right towards the something something and hit it right on its grotesque face with some silly stupid art. Then, can you imagine what will happen? I can see every ******* retards gathering around me. I am lying down with blood over everywhere. I can see pieces of my grand motor bike here and there. I can see the driver of that something getting out and trying to explain that I was the one who came directly into him as if I was attempting suicide. To hell with suicide. What kind of person does suicide. I can see traffic cops and medics and all. They are just trying to carry me to hospital. But I know I won’t want to go to hospital because hospitals make me sick. There are lots of sick and depressing people around. If they would want to take me anywhere then I would like them to take me to mountain top from where I could see a bluest lake  all the clear reflection of clouds and the greens and rainbows and butterflies and all those stuffs the poets from nature describe in their poem. But I know they are too busy for that. They are some stupid people who just want me to admit to hospital. Anyway, when they start to lift up, I just get off the stretcher and start laughing out loud. I will tell them that I am okay and its all my ****** series of imagination and show them that I don’t have wounds and all but they will just vanish. I keep laughing and laughing because then I could finally feel or imagine the pain that I will go through. The pain that will fill me up and I don’t feel empty anymore. That is the exact kind of empty I feel. But that is not enough, I am still on my bike. If you have lost me, I want to repeat all that happened was just a part of my imagination. I imagine stuffs a lot and I think they are cool when I imagine stuffs about dying and just waking up as if I am just taking nap and waking up. Is there anything like that rebirth or stuffs? Anyway, I am still on the bike. I speed up thinking all these things and then I make my way through a very narrow alley between two moving something trucks or buses and there… That is the right kind of empty that just got filled. You know it or not, when you speed up and make a narrow escape from between the moving trucks just closely to save your life. Man, I can feel the air move through my veins and I can see my heart flying out of my chest. Man, was that crazy? I ask to myself. To hell with it. I am still alive and breathing and I am not feeling empty anymore. But as I keep thinking, I just get so mad. I don’t know at what or at whom. Everything is so pale and depressing. I try to cheer myself up looking at the clouds and green trees and trying to think about witty lines that’s funny to me and all and all and them , all it just makes me so mad, just more depressing.

That right, I then stop my bike on the side rail and start thinking about writing about all these stuffs. Because I have this group of friends who kind of poem and stuff and they are pretty good too. I also poem and stuff sometime but nothing that I wrote ever became good. Because I can tell by reading them all that, the stuffs that come in paper are not everything I feel. Like if I have to use percentage to say how near they are to the amount I feel, it would be like ten percent or around. That is not much. Even the government value added tax is thirteen percent. I was trying to be funny but hell with that. I was just feeling empty and all and now I am on my bike stopped on the side of the huge highways where everything is moving. Its depressing to find out that everything is moving , everything around you and you are the only one stopping to look at them moving. If only there was someone who was there by your side to hold your hand and look at all these moving vehicles and the traffics and kids holding the hand of their mothers and fathers and uncles to cross the road safely and those dogs and oxen lying over the road.  To hell with it, if there was actually someone who would be by my side, I won’t be feeling empty and imagining crazy stuffs and stop my bike trying to write a poem out of it or something or anything just so I can be more cool showing my rad poem to the group of my circle who poems. Man, do I love that ? I can certainly make a good actor out of me if I play in a move but it just make me feel more sad and I don’t know why. I look around if I can find any teashop or anything. Just so, I could sit there and order a tea and stay sad and pale and then someone would come and ask me. Hey boy whats the matter with you? Then I would just ignore his question. People can be real nosy sometimes. I am just siiting here having tea and something man. Head off to you own way, I will tell that. Why would I tell me why I was sad anyway. I was thinking about a beautiful girl like an angel that we see in movies , beautiful like that when the word beautiful fails to describe the amount of beauty she has,  I was trying to imagine a situation when I am sipping over my tea sadly and then this angel comes over and ask me what is that making me look pale. She would say nice stuffs to me and man, do I fall in love again? Man… love is the silliest thing ever. You can have enough of it. I was just feeling empty because some girl told me that she doesn’t have anything for me. Even I didn’t have anything for her . But you know there are times when you actually fall in love like madly in love. It’s the same person everywhere, all around you. You can’t just stop thinking about her. But the one who said she has nothing for  me, she meant no feelings or loves that she can do to me. We met few times, two or three and she was nice and all. I was funny and all. But even I haven’t felt anything towards her. Now she is really beautiful with this hair and this long slender face that she has. And then you know it when you want to fall in love. I wanted to fall in love with her because she was exactly the type of the girl that people have to fall in love with. She was active and hardworking. She has a good smile and dimples too. Man, those dimples drive me crazy. I just feel like diving into those tiny little cheeks and then right into her heart. And on the top of that wavy curly hair, it can drive anyone mad. Well, it drove me mad and that is why I am trying to fall in love with her. But anyway she told me last night or sometime in past that she doesn’t feel like that. I want to tell her that even I don’t feel like that with her. But I don’t want to because that may just drive her away from me all more. But anyway I was just mad when she told me that. Not mad like psychologically but like emotionally. I was just trying to explain her that we should may be spend some time together and get to know each other and all because you know I was kind of trying to fall in love with her and wanted to know more about her and make a lover like impression on her and all but man, was she crazy or something? She just said she doesn’t want to. It just made me so mad that I started my bike , yeah after paying for tea and all. I speeded up again and I didn’t want to stop but I had to stop because of this stupid traffic signal but my legs were all dancing because I was anxious and all and I just wanted to cry for nothing. But I can’t cry because I don’t feel like and when you feel like crying you cant stop it anyway. Those stupid tears will just fall off. Then The traffic signal goes green and I speed up and want to race with someone and feel good by beating them. But then there are other bikes that goes ahead me and that makes me feel more sad and then I just so over the yellow side line and start driving like slug. Man, I am extreme. I can feel it. I try to think about writing all this when I go home but I know I wont because I have done this many time and I have never written anything. Its just like that.

Its just like that. You have all these stupid to intelligent ideas an stuffs when you are walking or on the bike but I never do anything. When I reach home, I change my dress start it all again. I start to become normal like nothing is wrong with me. It just drives me crazy.. everything is so wrong with me. I have to be somewhere is some other good job that I will enjoy and that also pays me pretty good so that I can enjoy and all. I also have to fall in love with this girl. I have to complete one of my research paper so that I can earn good reputation among these technical circle of mine. I have to pen down some good stuffs so that I can perform it loudly in front of everyone and then everyone would cheer for me and all. I will just act modest and bow down. I also have to meet some of these my school friends and all and have some crazy times with them mocking the professional life and all. I have to be with my family, go to temples and stuffs and pray and ask the god to help me focus in my pursuit, which I am not sure what that is so I also pray and ask the god to show me the  right path. Its easy to pray and all and just stay happy thinking god will do everything but hell with god. I also have to prepare for this test and I have to complete reading this book and man, I have so much to do. I can’t just waste my time just like this.  

**There are always enough stupid things to drain the best outof you and leave you in terrible vacancy.
I will look at it and edit it sometime, not too soon though.
vircapio gale Sep 2012
wakefulness demands a certain clearness when asleep . . .
it doesn't come as planned
"tat tvam asi"
LaBerge says to me in dream of me
"this world you are, withstanding even torments thou art never seen."
and that's enough to suffer aching, opaque psyche summit, forward
heart to rise an interspecies knell when danceless fades the bee in droves...
aimless whales who singing deep in love are cut from evolution's murky chain...
fungal blight of hibernaculum, in deafened sonar sending sudden drop of death;
to horror fragment melt, the ocean swill from ancient caps to sunken polar paw
diverse in massacre of tropic forest fertile mists, lives dispersed
and balance tipped from blindness not unlike the sterile statue's, there
                                                          i­n dusty courthouse corner, shadow-lined with infamy...
what imagined cartoon causal Captain Planet              
                            villainy to blare across oneiromantic globe? and (dreaming?) civil strife,                  
       eradication's alter triumph pose to measure blame in inner life?
of empiric meditation's top, in *******
churning out abuse in deeper,
                                                         ­   younger hidden traffics yet to terrorize the net...                                  
                                             the scraping of the sky had punctured through                                
                         ­                                      from metaphor to fact
                                       the sooty barbs
                            in radiance rebound    
and irony affected 'green'
                  folds crisis and solution into one                            we hope
                like what we say we are, becoming change                      in wartime summer fling    
we                                                        
say we can in world of 'me'                                      
in guilt-assuaging verve
                                  the heifer-gift to village fief
    but then to rest against organic pillow-conscience gray                                                             ­       
                                                               soundly snoring smokestacks fill from ground to sky
still for sly investment windfall   fog  billow, shake...                             
transcontinental scape of dream imbued anew:
i am the genie of my ownmost inner lamp
in dreamtime-being spacious constellational of reach distilled
in contemplation's tratak zoom mInute
   with jet black finger trace
    i net                                                              ­                                        from out the inter-earthen air                
                                             ­                                              the lump on lump of coal
                massaging from                                                             ­      as if an ivory atmospheric                  
lift                   of      weight  
                           the sculpture of our past condensed in elephantine ******
                                                 miasmic fossil shower-haze of sporogenic fear,
mneumonic nail-tusk night of carbon-spirit back into its hold -- originary dark,
Dark light from burning black                                                 once again contained                                                      in elemental subterrain                                                       ­                                                       
         ­                                        --now it underlies the ground inside for triple shielding outshine
--outer-- light to cool us breathing once again . , ,    
false convenience in abeyance in a human time!                                
i am right now of inward self my soul supernal carbon imprint copy                             
for accounting every speciesistic mind to open wide enough and quell the "all-too human plagues--                                                                           ­       cheering all penultimates, in beams reflecting ante-truth          
                                                 down halls of mirror-minds that lightly discourse
on the ingress of a centaur saving power
channeling the leylines of inception,
ecstatic dreamworld of apotheosic glee:
parting the eidetic clouds,
commune an avatar intentionality . . .
ensorcelling the foodstuffs of the world to feed a dozen million refugees,
insectile diet pride attends in homes of affluence,
the abstract mass of media, become eupeptic cud of understanding bats and even bees--
for biospheres a Goodall stewardship arrives
(her perfect chimp call too resounds across the earth!)
and dwindled frogs their former ponds (unknown, destroyed without a sound)
return to chirping vibrant green symphonic swooning life
the glacial march of tears to halt . . .
all ecosystems rife withall
the panegyric of marshlands globally reborn  
along with shining waters, algaeic sun alive at play
in double-helix breath of dolphin families' bubble art
a sudden resurrect from ****** harvest cove arise cascading joyous leap
on final absence of the metal herding knock of trapping pods
no longer hacked in waves of pink, mere preparations for a restaurant sink--
they are free to swim the depth of worldheart dreaming unknown dream entire real again
marine apsaras dip in spectra (flicker eyelid) rays, reintroduce the dawn
her fine apparel calling forth transhuman destinies
unsplicing brilliant minds from ****** task of splicing GMOs
recycled randomness accepting death before we die
mycelium in runs of spilling-- all undone --
migrational attuned our resource use
and CSAs to thrive in eco-city scapes
no solopsistic somniac pretends
--the dream imbued in final hue
a momentary lapse, creationary flux--
the bombs defused in flick of wrist
indentured and enslaved, imprisoned innocents, oppressed and even self-deprived released
through selfhood's metaviral claim
ground of each dependent intertwining
whatness will to be
a place in which to hum in tune or out of tune
to heal and in a another dream aside from this perhaps with me partake
in true oneiric panoply of conflict held
--with permeating rigpa geogaze--
colliding ideologies transmuted into trust
in panharmonium of varied vision
and what the ever present boons of real, imagined symbol-real
create awake












.
A Thomas Hawkins Aug 2010
Is there a place that one can go
to truly be alone
to escape the hustle of our lives
and traffics monotone
Is there a place where I can sit
notepad and pen in hand
And capture the true nature
of this majestic land.
My needs are very simple
just somewhere to rest my head
with a simple little woodstove
and a comfortable bed
I have no need of music
for nature plays my song
I will fall asleep to crickets
and awake to sparrows throng
I will read alone by candlelight
the poems of the day
And think of friends I left behind
who would love to live this way
But for now all this is just a dream
that one day may come true
And it seems a little closer
no that its been shared with you
Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
http://twitter.com/athomashawkins
mark john junor Apr 2017
traffic in dreams
the deeper the love
the longer it will be to pay it off
deeper the diamond to carve from your heart
the darker the desire
the more cold cash
the harsher the wind in the lonely night

take sandpaper to your luxurious soul
but you keep its stain from your pretty eyes
pretty face barter for fish n chips
pretty words barter your bed and breakfast
dress it all in fashion from magazines
the strange combination of gloss and paper thin disguise
the strange combination of truth and lies

the greasy haired stranger
peers with all his might into the mirror
trying to find the man hidden within
he traffics in dreams
will sell you a plot of land
and the rainbow that comes with
ten by ten souls wide
ten by ten deep
sell em to you for a taste of the pretty
sell em to you for a touch of the tender
so rancidly reflected in his greasy smile

you thought the weight was easy to bear
thought that the lie you tell yourself suffices
but dreams are brittle thin walls you hide behind
watch the cracks spread across the pretty picture
it is painted with
watch the colors fade like sweet summer sunshine
the sweet wine turned bitter like tears
he sells you a dream that must be forever replaced
with an ever darker version
he sells you a lie that you will come to see vividly
it won't taste so sweet for so long
it will taste like dust
it will taste like loss

you seek him out once again in the dark city passage
his greasy hair fallen long ago
skin gone gray
he found the man in the mirror
he found his answer in all the chaos
tastes like dust
tastes like bitterness
seek him out to find he is gone
only a shell remains
a brittle shell

no-one gets cheap seats
without paying the price
Evelyn Mar 2023
The last 5 years feel like a numb, confusing blur.
Like I laid myself to sleep for a while.
Like I needed to be dead to the world.

Then one day I suddenly awoke to a longing in my chest.
A feeling I couldn't fight.
A quickening of my breath.

The outside world shone through the cracks and my legs guided me straight outside.
Fresh socks on the grass of spring's early morning dew.
As it soaked through to my feet, I felt alive again.

But who am I now?
And who the hell do I want to be?
What just happened?
And what am I doing here?

I keep blinking to wake up but I'm finally awake.
It feels like I've forgotten everything, I'm trying to remember who I am again.

I've been playing Eurotruck Simulator for 2 days straight.

Mindless driving through virtual country roads.
I've jack-knifed my truck and need to pay the service toll.
Have to deliver this big bag of seed to Hamburg but I'm stuck in the middle of the road.
The traffics piling up and everyone's honking their horns.
This is way too much pressure.

“Don't Worry Baby” By the Beach Boy's plays softly in the background.
But in fact I'm very much worried.
Whether in my online trucking game or the real world it just never seizes.

All I asked for is a day where I'm not incapacitated by my own thoughts.
They're useless, nonsensical pesters that make everything go wrong.

Stupid worry gremlins with bells on their ankles.
The harder you try to ignore them, the louder they love to play.
Until your mind is an orchestra of gremlins beating their feet into your brain.  
It's impossible to get anything done when they're dancing away.

What matters is I'm still trying my best.
I'm leaving the house again, changing my old routines.
I even went out past 7pm.
What a real rebel I'm becoming.

Breaking old boundaries takes time but false 'safety' doesn't serve me anymore.
I sat in the pub last week and finally felt 24.
Maybe I'm a little behind compared to everyone else.
But I managed to save my jack-knifed truck and ship the seed to Hamburg, everyone has their own strengths..
Jack of all trades.
Master of none.
But in Eurotruck Simulator I'm No1.
Beep Beep I'm here
Micheal Wolf Apr 2014
The noise of the night now comforts me. The stove creaks as it cools, jets decend to the airport and the traffics throng wains.
The day unwinds, its events now memories already. Each event, each thought like a train on its own little railroad, disapearing into the depths of the mind. When morning comes a clean slate. Then within seconds the thoughts that dwell, stress and depress, once again tear along the tracks till they overwhelm you. They just circle the mind on little railroads. No journey to speak of.
JT999 Nov 2015
I swear to god I've seen that pole
about a kilometer a go
I swear to god I've seen that tree
barren, wasted of it's leaves
I swear to god I've seen that barn
bent and crooked on that farm
I swear to god ive seen that pond
the ugly geese have spooked the swans
I swear to god I've crossed these tracks
our shocks are shot and so's my back

I swear at god everytime
I have to make this god dam drive

I swear to god it always snows
humongous flakes, down in droves
I swear to god it always rains
when the gas tank's almost drained
I swear to god the traffics jammed
every inch of the trans
I swear to god the coffee's weak
like the towns, bland and bleak
I swear to god it's all the same
this road must lead to hells gates

I swear at god everytime
I have to make this god dam drive
Anyone who frequently drives on a Canadian prairie highway, this is for you.
Mike Essig Apr 2015
TWO ENGLISH POEMS For A Woman

I.
The useless dawn finds me in a deserted streetcorner; I have outlived the night.
Nights are proud waves: darkblue topheavy waves laden with all hues of deep spoil, laden with things unlikely and desirable.
Nights have a habit of mysterious gifts and refusals, of things half given away, half withheld, of joys with a dark hemisphere. Nights act that way, I tell you.
The surge, that night, left me the customary shreds and odd ends: some hated friends to chat with, music for dreams, and the smoking of bitter ashes. The things my hungry heart has no use for.
The big wave brought you.
Words, any words, your laughter; and you so lazily and incessantly beautiful. We talked and you have forgotten the words.
The shattering dawn finds me in a deserted street of my city.
Your profile turned away, the sounds that go to make your name, the lilt of your laughter: these are the illustrious toys you have left me.
I turn them over in the dawn, I lose them; I tell them to the few stray dogs and to the few stray stars of the dawn.
Your dark rich life…
I must get at you, somehow: I put away those illustrious toys you have left me, I want your hidden look, your real smile –that lonely, mocking smile your mirror knows.

II.
What can I hold you with?
I offer you lean streets, desperate sunsets, the moon of the ragged suburbs.
I offer you the bitterness of a man who has looked long and long at the lonely moon.
I offer you my ancestors, my dead men, the ghost that living men have honoured in marble: my father’s father killed in the frontier of Buenos Aires, two bullets through his lungs, bearded and dead, wrapped by his soldiers in the hide of a cow; my mother’s grandfather –just twentyfour- heading a charge of three hundred men in Perú, now ghosts on vanished horses.
I offer you whatever insight my books may hold, whatever manliness humour my life.
I offer you the loyalty of a man who has never been loyal.
I offer her that kernel of myself that I have saved, somehow – the central heart that deals not in words, traffics not with dreams and is untouched by time, by joy, by adversities.
I offer you the memory of a yellow rose seen at sunset, years before you were born.
I offer you explanations of yourself, theories about yourself, authentic and surprising news of yourself.
I can give you my loneliness, my darkness, the hunger of my heart; I am trying to bribe you with uncertainty, with danger, with defeat.
One of the greatest writers of this hemisphere and the world. Look for his other work.
Ottar Mar 2013
Where are you now, where do you live?
What do you value, what can you give,
or take and learn, absorb you sieve!

Look out a window, any window at all,
watch in silence the rainfall,
close your eyes and listen to the call.

What do you hear?
Does it generate fear,
Or a sympathetic tear?

Open that window for sounds and more,
of wind and the not so distant traffics' roar,
close your eyes, listen to the waves rush the shore.

Breathe in slow and deep,
Hold that breath, take a leap,
exhale, with control the air you keep.

Touch and taste with good sense,
your life does not end at the fence,
be a kid, or a wild child, no offense.

Wear boots then jump and step in puddles,
It may leave you a lot less muddled,
There will be those who walk away befuddled.

Live your life do no harm,
Wear experiences like charms,
Hugged, closely held in your arms.

Simplify, do one thing alright,
Start the day early and pray, at night,
too, give thanks and express any plight.

I know you not, yet, I but want to do,
About Him, who am I to say to you,
With an tender heart, pursue, pursue.
The last line was going to be "Try to say all this, in Haiku!" Okay maybe not.
Micheal Wolf Jun 2014
Once upon a yesterday all the trees stood still.
No wind blew between their leaves only silence filled the air.  
No birds sang, no grass grew, on here or the otherside.
It was simply green and motionless, as though frozen in time.
Clocks stopped, no traffics roar, no planes flew overhead.
It was as if time itself had left the earth as well.
There was a sound he strained to hear, was it one or two?
The sound of their beating hearts as her eyes looked at you.
For in that moment time stood still and all around them wained.
The world they had come to know was fading away.
No longer could they live as they had done before.
For once upon a yesterday had now become today, all their thoughts and dreams had gone, as they had now met.
Yesterday now gone, today is at its close and all we yearn is tomorrow, will it be mine and yours?
Dark n Beautiful Mar 2017
The morning comes, and dark clouds appears
Facebook notification alerts me about those clouds
Are clearing today and I must look out for sunshine
So what about me: what about our equanimity
in the New York city?

What am I going to wear?
Here I am dress up like polar bears
Watching my window curtain clings again the window pane
So cold inside, so are the contents in the tupperware
Looking forward to this sunny day, before the night comes
Longing for that special trip to the Caribbean sunshine,

The air in the city seem so misty and *****
The loud traffics sound is deafen, it's sicken
It’s time for some March morning moonshine

The traffic light by Walgreen pharmacy is on the ground
The black ice still hangs around in the big city

A poet lamenting about the well-being of the city dwellers
As many folks filed grievances about living conditions of Newyorkers
A poet might as well filed a complaint over conditions,
that led up to her cold, cold **** and *****
Big Virge Dec 2019
I'd Rather Feed Brains Than ... " ENTERTAIN " .... !!!!!  
How Many Who Do Now Use ... ******* ... ?!?  

I'm Saying ... I'm SAYING ... !!!  

These People Maintain ...  
That Doing ******* Helps ... raiSE Their Game ... !!!  
  
They ... ENTERTAIN ME ... !!!  
They're ... Ever So FUNNY ... !!!  
When Acting Like ... DUMMIES ... !!!  
  
From Poets On Stage ...  
Who NEED To Be ... "CAGED" ... !!!!!!!!!  
  
To Girls These Days Who Do ENTERTAIN ... !!!!!  
  
Words From Their Jaws Now EXPOSE Their Flaws ... !!!  
  
"I'll send you a text later on this week,  
then give you a call, so that we can meet definitely !"
  
But What's In Their Mind ...  
Are CLEARLY Some Things of A DIFFERENT Kind ... !!!!!    
  
"You said you would ring, it's been two weeks !  
What happened to you, now you want to speak ?"  
  
"I've had some issues !"  
  
"Yes, clearly you do !  
Don't try to play me,  
i'm no Rubix Cube !"  
  
"You're so cynical, and really, quite rude !"  
  
"Hey, i'm not the one who said, I would call you !  
So you deserve to hear some truth,
be careful now, watch your attitude !"  
  
Actions Like These Should Give You  Some Proof ...  
That Girls ENTERTAIN ... When Acting The Fool ... !!!  
  
YES Men Do It Too ... !!!  
  
But Trust Me Girls ...  
I'm ... NOT THAT DUDE ... !!!!!  
  
My Movements Are Shrewd ...  
And DON'T Entertain In .... " Foolish Ways " .... !!!  
  
I'll Say It Again ..... !!!  
  
I'd Rather Feed Brains Than Just ... " ENTERTAIN " ... !!!!!  
  
I'm Not Frasier Crane I DON'T Do ******* ... !!!  
  
My Wordplay Displays A Clever Array ....  
While Most Now Want To ... ENTERTAIN ... !!!  
  
From Women To Men MANY Are The Same ... !!!  
And Feed Me Lines That Deserve A  REWIND ... !!!  
  
I'm Saying Some Folks Are ... " LOSING THEIR MIND " ... !!!!  
  
Check These TRUE Stories Told In Rhyme ....  
  
"What time will you be there ?"
  
I Get Via Text ...  
  
"What time will you be there ?"
  
Is What I Then Sent ....  
  
So Next I Get These Words In Text ...  
  
"I'm gonna move soon,  
chill and have a drink when I get in."
  
I Send ....  
  
"Alright cool, i'll have one too !  
I'm gonna be late, because of train delays !"  
  
I Get ... " No REPLY " ... ?!?  
  
And When I Arrive ...  
The Girl Who Was Texting Is ...............................................................  ­
................  ..............................................­..... NOWHERE In Sight ... !?!  
  
I Then Send A Text ...  
  
"Where are you ?"   
  
From My Mobile Tool ...  
  
"She's stuck on the road, traffics moving slow ... ???"  
  
Which Goes To Show ...  
What Comes From Those Who SNIFF The Coc' ... !!!  
  
Things They Quote Just Give Me Jokes ... !!!  
  
They Make Manoeuvres That STINK Like Manure ... !!!  
  
These Stories I TWIRL Are YES The SAME Girl ... !!!  
  
Of Course I'm Now Thinking She's In ... " Her OWN World " ... !!!  
  
Now Here's The LAST FIX of This Youthful ***** ... !!!!  
Easy Now .................. CALM DOWN Feminists ... !!!  
  
SHE Chose To Enlist The Usage of ... " ***** " ...  
When Using Her Mouth ...
To Speak About HOW ...
She Acts Like A COW ... !!!  
  
One Night I Asked .....  
  
"Why do you act like you're on crack !  
Trust in this madame, men like me, aren't into that !"  
  
I Then Chose To Say ....  
  
"Wherever the wind blows each day, makes you sway,
and then you're swiftly swept away !"  
  
She Then Said ....  
  
"I'm an addict of living organic,  
where nature sways, is where i'll play !"  
  
I Guess That's Cool At The End of The Day ...  
  
But Then, Of Course I Had To Say ... !!!  
  
" You do entertain, Coc' isn't organic !  
So don't try to say, that natural ways affect how you live,  
from day to day, for heavens' sake girl, give me a break !  
I've got things to do, so, be on your way !"  
  
She's Really Quite Young ...  
And Could Be Some Fun ...  
  
I'd Like To Find Out What She's All About ...  
But Only When SENSE ... Comes Out of Her Mouth ... !!!
  
I'm Saying Folks ...  
  
This Girl Gives Me JOKES ...  
Through The Things She Quotes ... !!!  
  
If You HAVEN'T Laughed ...  
  
" Do You SNIFF The Coc' ?!? " ....
  
I'm Saying ... I'm SAYING ... !!!  
I'd Rather FEED BRAINS ...  
Than JOIN The Brigade ...  
Who Say ... STUPID Things ...  
  
That DO ....  
  
..... " ENTERTAIN " .....
People REALLY are very entertaining, when all's said and done !
JonW Jun 2016
I was born, I was born
to a world, I could have sworn
made for me, yet I am torn
between two lives, for both I try
for one is true, the other a lie
yet the latter one will not comply
to the way I wish to fly
for one is made of wild things
of mountains, trees, lakes and springs
birds and beasts
green grasses, and broad leaves
of wind blown meadows, of rain soaked earth
of sun shine skies, where clouds role by
yet of late I find that I must pry
away, and back to the life where I cannot fly
to the life of work, routine, and traffics cry
I was born, I was born
but away from this
I long to be torn.
Classy J Nov 2023
Verse 1:
Boom. Bombs going off me.
Check the meter, grab the coffee.
Trek through with the Beamer, come on Scotty!
Traffics running a muck, creeping on me.
Beeping on they horns, swearing at me.
So, much for Canadian hospitality.
Sure is wild in the city, especially at night,
Where’s I gots to protect my shawty.
Who be like a melody in my head,
Nagging at me.
Where 5 minutes turns to a couple hours probably.
A broken record of almost done, like sure you will hunny.
And even though I’ve been around the block,
I still can’t find parking.
Going around in circles,
Like it’s a synopsis of my whole life story.
Except this **** makes less cents,
Than a Canadian loonie.
Guess we can thank Trudeau and his liberal carnies.
Man, At this point I’d rather our Prime Minister be Barney.
We live in a world full of injustice just ask Johnny.
A man who got cancelled and labeled an enemy.
Without proof in the pudding,
Unlike Bill Cosby.
Ajita Sep 2020
This is a tragedy which came
like a wave,
And with this
the silence spread.

The lane which used to be
No-gap place,
Today it is a clear
passway.

The traffics are no more
annoying,
The Clock seems
stop saying the time.

As, nature is saying...
It's a WAR stripe.

A war where...
our weapon is the medical science,
And the soldiers are
in the hospitals,
Not in the border line.

Fear spread their wings
in every mind,
And the only way to be safe
is to be home quarantine.

Everyone can hear
the horrible cries,
Of those who lost their beloved
in this fight.

This is no more the same world
where we all enjoyed,
The taste of freedom..
Dunno when it'll come back to our life.

For now,
To Stay safe
We need to stay inside.
Cedric McClester Jul 2019
By: Cedric McClester

We’ve been patient
With this embarrassment to the nation
Who put civility on vacation
Which is the present situation
He plays his games of race
For the benefit of his base
Though an outlier in any case
He is readily embraced

We watch this demigod
Going in whole hog
With the hateful Tweets we log
As we read his daily blog
He’s openly misogynistic
According to the statistic
What he’s not is futuristic
Nor is he a sage or mystic

And there’s no debate
That he traffics in hate
Just as he anticipates
Many people take the bait
So, if you’re not on his side
When his strategy’s applied
The field is opened wide
He lives to conquer or divide

He pours on the oil
To fuel the fire or to foil
His enemies who toil
Just to bring it to a boil
And he’s fully aware
Though he doesn’t really care
About the women he will smear
With the lies that he will share












Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2019. All rights reserved.
Yenson Aug 2020
william is a ******
katherine an anorexic *****
poor charles a plant talking mad man
camillia is ugly with a face like a horse
and good old queen wears an incontinent *****
harry is a lazy woke entitled unemployed sponger
mehgan is an american gold digging black *****
andrew is a ******* who traffics teenagers with the rich
all this spewed and vomited daily on social media
they say its a crisis of hate by the voiceless deranged
with unhappy lives and too frightened by their insignificance
royal hating is a thriving industry in this disunited kingdom
it should be prescribed by doctors as a cure for the mentalist
here take your phone or PC an go hate royals as required
these sickos we do know there are lots of them around
both young and old and all disadvantaged
so when they sing their demented blues
and spill the rancid contents of
diseased minds and sick heads
like all above and more
Philip is a greek ****
and a ponce
ME
i say thank God
I'm getting off lightly
I just at times get to read poems
by the mad poets society
Yenson Aug 2020
william is a ******
katherine an anorexic *****
poor charles a plant talking mad man
camillia is ugly with a face like a horse
and good old queen wears an incontinent *****
harry is a lazy woke entitled unemployed sponger
mehgan is an american gold digging black *****
andrew is a ******* who traffics teenagers with the rich
all this spewed and vomited daily on social media
they say its a crisis of hate by the voiceless deranged
with unhappy lives and too frightened by their insignificance
royal hating is a thriving industry in this disunited kingdom
it should be prescribed by doctors as a cure for the mentalist
here take your phone or PC an go hate royals as required
these sickos we do know there are lots of them around
both young and old and all disadvantaged
so when they sing their demented blues
and spill the rancid contents of
diseased minds and sick heads
like all above and more
Philip is a greek ****
and a ponce
ME
i say thank God
I'm getting off lightly
I just at times get to read poems
by the mad poets society

— The End —