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jeremy wyatt Jan 2011
So many lies from her to me
please don't tell him I'm pregnant
I was ***** she told the clinic
and me
the baby seems big for three months.....
but clinics get money for this
and charities give grants
they don't ask too many questions
6 hrs crying and screaming
till they chopped it up and ****** it through
a young doctor panicking
haven't destroyed one this big before have you you ****
took a long hooked thing to really mess the wee thing up
I saw it's dead eyes in the pan
her dead eyes
half-open and in a silent scream
where is the ******* dad? The nurse whispered..
somewhere ******, I said, I'm just her pal.
Dad didn't want a small thing in his life
my hands bled from her nails
and this felt right
my heart bled despair for her and the mess in the pan
took her home in a taxi suspicious eyes on us, huddled smelling of sweat and blood, no clean-up
she wanted to stay as soiled as she felt

Year later in another room
couldn't *** she wouldn't let me leave her
got a urinary infection holding on
longer this time
thirteen hours of pain and fright
no-one seemed to care again
on a trolly in the cold where is the magic
where is the ******* dad? A nurse whispered..
somewhere ******, I am just her pal.
twisting my hands
she bit my face wanting a kiss as she pushed so hard
the midwife dropped him halfway up her belly
I dragged him to her face
let go the doctor shouted
told him to shut up or *******
got yellow baby **** and blood in my mouth
wanted doctor blood too
tasted sweet somehow tasted of alive
took 83 sedatives that night  her sister found me in ICU
hard to die swap me for the wee dead one
I'm ****** she would have been special saw her face

She would have been 14 yrs old today
DieingEmbers Feb 2012
Insomnia serves me coffee
in a cracked china mug...

leaving water marks
on the patina of my soul
as morning passers me by
upon the hostess trolly,

it's one wobbly wheel
squeaking tunelessly
mocking my
pain.
When the mind starved of sleep we see things differently
Loner of the planet
Where dreams give way to musing,
Flemditation and Jarvoy,
Living with Jhello made of peppers, hot,
Loons scouring cobbled city streets
Frankenfood
Well treated with modelparse wine,
Reflecserve chortling along in
Hollogramorphing
phenoflutes;
Plan to watch a mockumentary,
broken by the doorbell -
A fairy telegram:
Invite to brunch
From Trolly,
Best friend, the only,
One to teach me
How to use my spork.
Glad to lose the smog of this morn,
I dress-up cheching the mirror:
Great a fit of my suithalf.
Portmanteau Poem written at request, a challenge taken for practice and a little fun.
Sam Newton Jul 2012
How did we meet,
Was it out there on the crossing paths of the street
Eye contact interrupted by the buzzing of the bees
A bus and trolly wafting a cool breeze through the air towards me

We could never know because it's only a single serving interaction
A single packet of cream on an airplane
A single serving packet of asprin
Something that will never amount to the idea of what my eyes wanted to claim

But in that moment stranded in time, away from everything else
The lock of two strangers eyes can amount to all that I needed to see
To help me know what I alone could be
The anonymity of your life to mine the mystery is what makes it a beautiful lie

Not a lie in the sense of a falsehood
But rather in the sense of placement on a fairway
The geographical landscape of our lives,
In which I can spot you and you can see me
But we remain never to interact
And live on our lives in the vastness of our own the sea of lies
The Nameless Sep 2016
.
1. It's time to retreat
    To call off the war, to turn in the trumpets,
    To shut off our hearing aids to those who are bullet-riddled with Ritalin.

2. Leave passion at the door
    The coat rack is missing, but that's what people are for,
    Push them back into the closets with your woolen wares and see.

3. Check in your soul with the desk clerk
    The bellhop promises to bring it up soon, but the elevator is out of order.
    His trolly's wheels were stolen and the stairs are still on fire.

    Sorry.
    No refunds.

4. Lock all the doors and tip your cows
    You're too tipsy for another round of room service anyways and the
    police are planning a raid.
    Tell the too young girls with the too old eyes the time has come to go and
    stitch your innocence back on.

5. Check your bedstand for a bible and a razor
    Ignore the ***** stains; the key to salvation was paid in sin.
    Put yourself on a pension plan because I hear the devil's running a good
    racket.

    Sorry.
    No refunds.

6. Trash this place on Yelp. Trash this place in person.
    The devil is hiding in the woodwork and there's a people zoo of women
    dancing on the yellowed wallpaper.
    The carpet smells like Daddy's cigarettes and Mommy's drunken spit-up.

7. w̶r̶i̶t̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶m̶e̶s̶s̶a̶g̶e̶ ̶o̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶m̶i̶r̶r̶o̶r̶
    What a proud song:
    Here's to the the nihilists, here's to the named,
    Here's a vague attempt to mark the world in meaning.

8. Break the mirror instead

Sorry.
No refunds.


But they offer complimentary mints.
Dakota J Dawson Jan 2018
I'm contained by gin
Soulful and true
Insane but blue

Crimson stains
Withered sheets of satin
Coinciding in my mind

Edinburgh rides high
London below
Call the trolly

Games commence
Justifying my religion
Anticipated revolt

But I sing
And gleam
In Winter's dawn

I love him
Need
And want

Colliding with my palms
Under a prayer of psalms
Ending pitfalls of ***
HeWhoExplores Jun 2020
Car horns slice through the air,
congestion gathers on the roads
making murky smoky trails

There sits a man

whom bears heavy weight;
shrouded, in dark clothing and mystery
Bearded, diligent and wise

Alan is his name

A Scouser if I'd ever seen one,
always happy and yet never alarmed
by the noises and pollution around him

This, is his home

I see him everyday when I pass,
come rain or shine, hail or wind
He sits, diligently and acute
with a paper cup in hand

Living in the open city

He shows that life can be unpredictable,
yet freedom cannot be contained
We've chatted, him and I
He says the institutions can't keep him down

They're out for money and control

This is his freedom, his way of life
to do what whatever he pleases
Tent ready, trolly in possession
Without fear, without order
without rules

Not knowing what the next day may bring
Alan, A Scouse drifter lives by his rules in the City of Belfast
KD Miller Dec 2014
12/28/2014
for ES

the dictionary definition of prospect is
"outlooks for the future"
and so this i ponder on a train platform.

once walking between the larrikin
of halls Class of 1903 and Jones,
i'd come across the gardens,

prospective ones or so said the
namesake.
i stepped over the leaves that were

on the ground but not quite
off the branches
read the bronze penny

stained black tablet
the roses and blackeyed susans,
cultiviated by class of 1850

gentlemen farmers
and named as the
view of the sight

filled one with such
good prospects.

now i don't quite know
why the trolly dodger park's
called that

and i've never quite been
so, thinking about it
i'll have to rely on

going with you
but of course
you say the same about the Gardens

so take my hand and follow me
now you have to buy me that book
Dj Jan 2018
Once apon a time it felt like I was chained to the floor; in a glass tank, with water slowly spilling in... But just as the water level reached the top; the glass shatters, leaving me cut and gasping for breath...when the entire building just collapsed all around me.... nowadays there's alot less hope in between the stages of doom... now it's like I'm freely standing in the middle of a room; that's compleatly engulfed in flame... faced befor me the trolly problem; with all my freinds and family and evreylast person I've ever known' s life endanger, I could save them all...but that would be saving the good with the bad...so instead semi morally knowing; I didn't put them there i watch and laugh as we all go up in flames, no misguided hope.... just allowing fate to play it's role..
David Hilburn Dec 2019
A penny saved is a penny earned
But a purse with an open mind, is yours to confirm
Let with ought and a gander of salt, the shrewd do save occur...
Sparing the gift's of toward, like a dependency to learn?

Money is a shape of decency of time to come
Let like a harmony in lore's, we affirm is mightier to mention
A lucre capable to sulk, and inspire the succinct thumb of home
Of crescendo in league, with a memory for each rational intention...

Time meet omit...
Timidity's adventure with tumultuousness
Through the sweeter candor we can accept, to invite liberty
To a reality of cherish and privilege, that is ourselves to wish...

Privacy is a bliss?
Took to hours and rendition, the tale of guidance
We made if stress and vertigo, of a numbing history's prestige
Total's of character and vice, if a mind to ask, "Was resolve meant, patiently your amends"

Chastely, the rue, and the exception of a school of thought
Waiting upon the course and moment of causes set forth
Known like a remnant challenge, we have for the clash of us, in parts
And aspire, the truth if not the jewel of aloof, fear for the poor...?!
Ken Pepiton Feb 2022
Delta dark desert sound
-tic swa gwa

Dismal swamp,
Slew of despond, splash

Hence, come, foul self, stinky-kenny,
ah
yes, time chance,
net-neti, meta all o'that mental ascent
to step away

think the whole dammed thing that has been
undammed, some time ago, at least half
a revelation measure, past the half
hour of silence.

Prep-work. What good can-
versus what good am-            

I, quests in op
portunate position, we

suppose, ah, sudden we, who
knew?
A laugh, once shared,
numb
ness, lifts an edge from the deck,
ness, edge ness in essence of pearling
the action
growing as knowing, sudden-- su su per

personal ize, I am, as a thought,
I am, meta-cognosis, you know
what I mean,

400 words made the cat in the hat,
who lives in your head,
where who philosophy is widely read.

These whos lack electricity,
so their reality depends on mutual re
alization, realizing personal worth
if good is all we need at the moment,
we have
plenty, plenty terror and greed, and rotten
hearts full of treasured straw, for bricks,
some day,
all our idle words accounted for

waking new, all the straw spun to gold,
thread about as wide
as a spider's kite,
sliding light.

Did I not? I remind me,
learn that in a mind, we
find numbed from before, knowing,

knowing, too soon, too late, boomers, all, did.

Don't we think we read the same **** & Jane,
oh, yeah, glory days,
the ways we were so-- numbed
by the music, yeah, more than drugs

from then to now, 2022, a blur, too fast
to matter, but for the wind, twist to last

chance, drink or prime the pump,
well, improving, our arrangement, give me
to drink,
and lo'
you, know the other had eyes, he saw as we
see, you knew, instant- life is living.
The act we all do, redundanced, on flat earth,
the xy axis of ordered arrangement of tools,
a place for everything, and every thing
in its place, we breathe,
and have our being in the life zone known,
so far,
so good,

the day is half done… numbness, funny unmissed
appointment, values are about to be dis
cussed, as causes accused of war crime, or plain
lying about duty to children,
lying about worth to children,
lying about ever after to children reared as tools,
servants to God's servant,
who relies on us, the poet's, primarily -

who read the runes, and ken certain tones,
attached to the tips of all tongues pfft pfft
phugedaboudit, whack
what were we thinking,

This is 2022, 12:27, I have been AI reminded,
faithful follower of instruction, immune to praise,
worth the effort forced on an old man, after
ever had well begun, a glory run, down
the backroads, with double yellow lines,

a white feather in my cap, they call it macaroni
poetry, it speaks in tongues of angels,

messages, sagacity fluidly puddling in wu-wow
same same see, somethings we
see same
some not same re
alizing, more or less, I am alone, I am talking
to my self,
anticipating your reading, as then unclaimed,
your reading your writing is our effort to fully function,

Branching, crystaline, flux in the frontal formation.
edging into knowing your, wondering

who can say what we think we know, better
than the idea used to think of Jesus, comforting
little boy, me.

Comfort is the only point we share,
for sure, we know comfort,
when we feel it, first rush,
under my made from-ol'Levis quilt
on a cold desert night, at the edge

of night, listening, eyes, adjusting,
blue glow, so faint, sobbing, listen, Perry Mason
Bailiff saying, muted through the door to you,
do you
swear to tell the truth,
the whole truth, and, {ah, the pain}
nothing but the truth?

AI ai ai, ritual sacred child, hapt to happen,
about a billion times, one time, split,

half know, half know not.
What is not a factor, words, were
never fit to inquiry, curiosity was missing,
promised apo
- I may, so I say apollo is a multi
- meta mete essence appolo so loco, si

logic assumes too much. You know too little,
ah, we have the app that's apt,

to make you think, strange arrangements seem
familiar, this is a mental labyrinthine design imagined
evocative experientially, a
be coming to being

kinda fruitless, really, without the womb, which was
oversight, civilizations
with goddesses have more womb sense,
than ones with pride conflicted all male propensities,
due to pride bred into the princes,
sorted as in Sparta, on the playing fields from Eton
to the universal concept of Friday Night in High School,

anywhere on earth, its all
the same,
scene, true trope, fit to the story of nextifity, loosely

more of the same, or do do we use the utility we realize,
this is
way cool for a future, from 1965… we were kids,
first TV Top-Forty Movies in color, all the time, from
conception, on Blueberry Hill,
-- the old order,
Frank Capra, Esquire/*******,  modality, mode, set,
films function to reimpress, in like Flint, pokem, say
Jack thinks like Goldfinger,
pointedly
-- we are dedicated mind universal soulds for the data
model American leaders of tomorrow,
shaped to excel. We taught the AI,
how to think like a mortal, go on, think, how go
changed nothing, no meaning to strategy of least
win, lightest weight that sways the worth,
to more than one can manage, alone,
eh… interesting…-
good for goodness sake, kerplunk the crack
leaks acidic madness, laughing

we stop lying, confusion
settles, similar to cream in sap too hot,
oil on water, cold water to a thirsty sould era soul.
… good
due to lack of fore thought, some agree,
after the act functioned and created something
-- jump cut===

First cousins, teach the second cousins
rules at the family reunion,


King, we call this, guy.
Biggest guy, on our side, and he owns the field,
we play on; and he says we need never grow up,
only old; he shall contain all our cares,
as a metaphor, yes after all is, and this guy, this holds it.
-The scepter, big stick, we see, looking close, zoom in

So we can think about it, meta co gnosis
when two or more minds agree to let this mind
seem important to you, import the idea
this mind weighs most worth serving, holding
such slight strands of spider kites, go,
make it self evident, stick to hold,
see
we work
good, he feeds us better, we work bad, he makes us
better.

Ah. Patterning, turtle shell sonic signs in sand,
some thing, we imagine, common aphorism,
turtles, so happy together,
at the core of the pearling algorithm that keeps
us rolling on,
so happy together, no matter

whether thought or thing, I think I love you,
if you know what I mean, said the little blue man,
from the radio,
really I think my entire generation heard some songs
and have images unimaginable prior to the event,
we admit,
there was a deal conceived, code, to open minds,
in time to reconnect

-Doris Day, the Saturday Matinee star,

singing
I love you I love you said the little blue man,
I love you I love you to bits.
I love you I love you said the little blue man
And scared me right out of my wits

From <https://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/d/dorisday/blueman.html#!>

We get that a lot. Said the imp.
You lost the aim, eh, happy, right,

I had a friend named Happy, he is dead, in a way that hurts
to know. So,
it could be, I don't say may be, in this state, that can incur
unintended consequences and this is tendentious enough
already,

we calling out the holy orders,
serious as what,
serious as serious is, sin qua non say, the only thing
that matters,

worst case, trolly dealy-bob scenario, test cases attest to,
what do normal people do,
what do people believing this or that lie, do?

What did you do? You read this line. Thank you. Made the diff…

-Group Therapy, Secure

We have not been taught well, but to obey

G'wan, talk nice, to people who don't read,
say, hey, d'jyewever re'ken, we was lost,
in books,
we never read, but tested as if we did?

so much so
no mind can find the bag,
with all our first valued things, sort of jumbled
in the bag with unsorted curiosities,

things we were told to read,
for our own good, but we did not read,

I can imagine, the feeling,
a visitation, actual factual feeling of thinking
I hear a voice, a word, I think
I hear a word, no vision, revisionist powerpoint,
read this, flaming finger pointing
says the witness of record,

later,
maybe I saw a bright light reminding me,
read, but I did not, I could not
can you imagine, I could have,
whose the shame,
- cover head to toe, oh, right, yeah
- secret only the holiest discern
- you shall know them by what
- shames a man to think
- you shall neve know…

my wife, could read,
she could have caused me to desire reading,
to obey the angel, nay

the story, as I was told, I'm telling you,
that guy never learned to read, instead,

some wealthy merchant, dealer in knacks and spice,
fine temple linens, and comforting silks and satins,
prolepsistically provided a ready writer, a scribe

blessed is usually the name history gives this scribe,
baruch or some sound meaning receiver.

Raw hear the muttering prophet, and say, write
this is what truth says truth is if nothing else is.

Ok… 2022

A word, lawyer calls you aside to ask if you know
your judgements have begun,

-you had not thought this your judgement,
then you read another line and feel you wonder
why?

We think, we think the same actual idea, that a
voltairian autoexamined lexicon might,
- ai-ght,
given the tech,
these tools, plus absolute negation of any previous,
assumed and acted on asif,
nullifity on costs, forgive us our, click
FTA take it,
run, as in keep the pace, run
Graeber plug Debt: The First 5000 Years
make it
plain claim
to any debt defined for you, make plain
divine rights due to worshippers, whose worth is
the air they breathe,

in which we live, and have our being.

Enjoying using use, where once we
utilized, life, as if unrealization is
as
real we inadvertently realized.
Right use ness.
Sweet, suasion is always sweet, per or pro, happy
is a fine word
to take the spiritual edge off blessed.
Sigh.

Wonderworks is working wonder in me,
another plug for Anghus Fletcher ? is it
The Power of Invention

I say, worth the attention,
it costs to listen, and recall asking what
does that mean,
-VA reminder login- live ding

value, the group is meeting to speak of values,
these are broken veterans,
I am in their group, a little, by design, I asked
to be included,

edged my way in, to wonder, why these guys,
are angry,
and thirsty, as am I, we recall prime the pump
or slake the thirst to say, hey,

do you read, at all? Any signal from the noise
saying
define, sift and sieve, sort your terminal points,

what hold has value, for all of us, in your reality?

Within the system, this is mortal awareness
acknowledgment, same as existentialism was
imagined to be in in Sixties univers-ifity, post 65,

we were barely alive, GDIs, then Ken went to
Vietnam, same day as Pooso Perez,

Pyro went, too, he came back the same.

Ifery was, is a class of phrases, which when
wished as a child might, were

as near as real as any ae ea ai ia utterance we
gulp- yodleee, shamballaballa shaka
zulu'd, to quote Creflo,
ahem,ake it so
cough to clear the back of my throat,
-then I yawn
and that does it, soothes the crick
with sounds t d b vck rr ff llll mmmmnnn o o o
you knew you knew,
the book
spells it out,
secret meanings mean nothing to unknowers,
stretch it
so it is, we know, what the records show, the open
records of the water and the rocks,

witness
the wind returning
on circuits, set to melt
the ice, gradually, this time,
a degree above solidity, just edging sublimity,

liminal laminal lick, a measure, tip
of your aimer, to tip
of your thumb,

ha, the thumb that bends, always wins,
look it up, always, by an inch.

Rule of thumbs, my kind are good to breed into,
good, to feel friend-ish,
as friends are fewer than brothers,
and fewer still shall survive the confusion,

inevitable, when a dam breaks, the valley
does flood,

ah, see. from Sedona, look north, once,
that was all mud, ****** dry by winds
that carved the navel of the life we
think, real,
from stories told by those who knew

something bad could always happen,
when the world encountered a rock
that said, all that can be shaken,

shakes, no look out, just
blame-oh-shame- boom

what now?
Numb again, off and on. Think.
Thanks.
Todd Monjar Dec 2017
Beginning the movement, catches my eye amidst dead leaves in perplexing folly yet imagined many times before; in between reality and fantastical imagery conjured from a contemplative journey. Awake!

Riding beside the troupe blowing and skimming with a twirl of gaiety and precision, colorful pinwheels taunting beneath a synchronized sequence bequeathed with unknown passage and certain conclusion.

The wind becomes a partner that carries them like a beige velvet flying carpet, dancing to a silent orchestra intention; meandering to a landing pattern meant to rejuvenate yet another design.

They have no destination which is odd. Somehow they are both aware of the vaporous soup filled with magnificent color and lines and nary a thought about where to go; it musn’t be plied for satisfaction.

The mirth of it all! Acting as if there was control over their trip and showing off in a bodacious manner, the pile snaked and flicked its lightening colored tongue along the gray bespeckled pavement. Reciprocation came while the observant outfitted a seat on a similar trolly, arriving by the far sea of imagination.

We are twisted together and unfurled in a maniacal gavotte of sensuous interpretation, transporting us along a path of wafting field grass and bubble-wrapped white pillows of cloud; static except edgeless.

How can this be? We believed we set on foot for arrival only to chuckle later that we have never manifested an anchor of adhesion; understanding that we are perpetual and stirred with a never-ending abundance of transcendence.

Not farther away, not closer to anticipation. Centered in a profusion of ideas and symbiotic embrace; we are wrapped in cavernous layers of gradient billowing fabric that becomes what we see behind our closed eyes. It is never the same…

Once considered turbulence we now know is a replete carriage of weightless feathering, delivering dreams with unexpected alacrity and reassurance.

Now that theatrical scene before me has relevance and authenticity unto itself and my own participation. My attention has been captured and granted free access whenever desired.
Dakota J Dawson Nov 2017
Down through Buckingham
Atop the trolly named
"Splendor on the Rhine"

Between a sea of ruffled feathers
A caravan that bewilders all in sight
People seek a goblet of truth

All the tricks and games give way
To orphaned eyes that cry
Sending all the pain away
they moved her,  you know, from the trolly

to a plinth .not sure whether to be honored,

stayed  still with glass,    bandages

were bloodied.



a message came, choked on tears,

sobbing rose. that one should

notice her.



mrs ciano received a message.

sbm.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
ginger ale and whiskey,
isn't that much of an innovation,
but i'll have to admit,
it's not exactly ms. amber
and pepsi...

            two weeks ago i found
out that genetic heritage
finally caught up with...
    high blood pressure...
runs in the family,
  and, apparently,
once you're on high-blood
pressure tablets?
that ****'s for life...

  plus i already knew that
some form of alcohol abuse was in
the background,
if it passed my father,
   because: sure as ****, he doesn't
know how to drink,
   he can't channel it
   to any productive end,
then i inherited it from
          both my maternal
grandfather, and, my paternal
grandfather...
     drunk like cobblers...
                  and worked their *****
off to but...
    the only shame?
            i do knitting...
                          of words...
                  no hammer & sickle...
but at least not blabbering out
    confused words...

      'so living with my parents
suddenly makes me
some sort of ed gein?!'

'funny you should say that,
given that ed gein was
the prime instigator of
h'american culture...
   ******, alfred hitchhock,
  the texas chainsaw massacre,
  mudvayne,
   slayer...
rob zombie... am i missing
anyone?'

  'silence of the lambs!'

'****, i knew i forgot something...'

'well d'uh, buffalo bill's
tailoring of skins?
   all ed gein.'

mother with arthritis,
drops basic items of a kitchen,
some sort of spinal
problem, had an operation
on it,
   nerve entanglement,
walks with a walk stick,
can't exactly bend over,
   reliant on potent pain-killers...

and sometimes when
i don't take drinking "too far"
into the night,
i wake up, bright as a *******
sparrow,
  chirppy, chirp-chirp...
help her bake cookies...
and then make tomorrow's
dinner...

   cottage pie,
     she just has to put the ****
together if i don't wake up
on time...

           and i am the sick
sadistic ****?
           "once upon a time"
we entrusted our faith
in our neighbour to look
after a cat,
    they ****** off to the maldives,
i went to my grandparents,
2 weeks later,
   the cat was dead...

    in between...
   i talked to them and told them
i needed to go back home,
a senseless paranoia gripped me,
something bad was about
to happen...

             you know, the general
complaint of the asiatic people,
they don't really enjoy petting
animals...
they're more into breeding,
and in-breeding...

   got a phone-call with
dear dear mother crying into
the phone: oscar darshan
was dead...

                            great cat,
i too cried when my childhood
"sister", an alsatian shepherd
died...
                  with a cat's death?
i thought i'd do something special...

the cremation was done,
idly sitting in a box in the study...
i took out a croquet
which i found, left,
     outside someone's home
ripe for the taking...
   took the sticks and ***** off of it...
attached a belt to it,
a backpack,
   a hammer and a chisel...

and i went into a world war I
cemetery...
     started hacking at one of
the graves...
left it intact,
having managed to find
an already hacked off piece
of a tomb...

              wrapped it up in
a black bin bag...
             put it on the croquet
trolly...
wheeled it home,
   took the cremated remains
of the cat...
    took to a shovel...
   dug a hole, placed the remains
in the ground...
and then put that slab of tomb
above it...

            all... in the blissful
serenity of the night...

when you grow up,
without any attachment to siblings,
but are exposed
  to dogs, or cats...
        you... tend to do things like
this...
     sure... it doesn't speak
your language,
    but you just judge them
by the language of their eyes...

pepsi: it has caffeine in it,
doesn't it?
           i was offered coffee in
the evening,
with the cookies i helped
to bake...
   n'ah... glass of milk,
the cookie (apple and walnut...
oat based... yummy as ****)...

when a genetic heritage catches
up with you...
    ah.... nearing 33 years...
it was a fun run...
           all those nights spent
drinking whiskey & pepsi -
no, i don't think whiskey
is exactly akin from the holy grail
cup, straight, no ice...
ooosh...
                        feels great saying
that...
         n'ah... mash it up with
some ginger ale and ice,
you're good to go...

                      and the next morning,
unsure whether constipated...
i'd sit, and this is what sly
high-blood pressure does...
your teeth numb,
as does your jaw...
           you get a sense of fear
from biting down on your teeth...
and you sit, stunned from time
to time by a sensation of
swallowing your tongue!

        after all: it is ms. amber...
she ***** readied at the gulp
    like a 40 year old *******
turned ******...
            cream on the hapless died out,
puts on a ******
using her mouth...
               and i'm done "worrying"
about *** and the incel culture
for... give or take:
                a year, 2 years...
                 3?
    thing is... why would i be bothered...
if i passed the test of:
reading a book "with one hand"?
marquis de sade...
   uninhibited language...
rambling, but fathomable...

          a somewhat "over-flowing"
*******, a slightly "over-flowing"
me... but at least not done
under the covers, with the lights
turned off...
     it was always funny to me...
how she would take my money,
go off to the madam,
   i'd get undressed,
take a shower,
she'd come back,
   and then i'd watch her undress...

shame?
   n'ah...
             cheating?
what, the current political narrative?
hell yeah, who wouldn't?
     but i hardly think
that a strip-club would do that much,
at least the one i went to
in athens,
   the strippers wanted to be
touched...
                   or maybe...
i'm just that sort of a satyr...
                   ugly like a socrates...
   but eager as a n00b or a hilly-billy.
One Shot Jun 2018
Humans have this word; Perfect.
It doesn't have a solid definition.
Dictionary defines it as having all desirable components.
I call that impossible.

You can't make everyone happy.
The statues proved that.

You can't save everyone.
The trolly problem shows that.

You can't get everything you want.
It's why compromise exists.

You can't make life flawless.
Dystopias prove that.

I never understood why people try to make stuff perfect.
They get disappointed when things aren't faultless.
No matter what you do or don't, try or try not, speak or silence
You can't get all of the desirable components.

Humans have this word; Perfect.
I never truly understood it.
but why do we need to?
I try to do my best to make life the best but no matter what you do something has to go wrong.
Oliver Philip Nov 2018
The nurse wheeled her trolly passed my bed.
Thought I was peaceful , thought I was dead
But looks can deceive
And I’m in reprieve.
Comforted by , a good life ahead.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip
December 1st 2018.
I am alive thanks to my nurse.
This go out to my lady surpeme open dreams
Shatter creams puff puff **** make things
Happening not just from rappin' crappin'
On these undercover MCs who aint Makin Cheese
Rats feast for the dirtiest entrees see mes
In four d's time traveler wisdom unraveler
Set the snakes around the fakes intake
Cant dodge the sting my ice bling circling
The suns cycles day and night polite
With the mean clips i make ya dance in ya hips
Hot **** culprit counterfeits since i was an infant
Dialect my own scripts since lifes a clip
A blast any chance I get wither it be reality
Or fantasy ride the waves of fanatic craves braves
Only when cowards amongst the darks set the sparks
Off in this ***** this is a wild pitch which
You couldn't hit Nolan Ryan tying and pryin'
Ya mental cabbage vocal savage havoc
Layer ultimate players no goalie
Smoke raviolis so go ahead and troll me
Trolly unruly with the toolie rude as Guliani
Look behind me and what you'll see
Is my homies and girls blasting 380s


Most breaking breads with no butters
Milking no utters that's why they careers stutters
But back to the grits im making hits
Hammer cocked plow can't touch this now
Got em dancing fans romancing beats
Feets stomp because of the great feats
Planet neptune consumes you to the perfume
Funky rhymes perfect design divine
Space time yo I'm raging from my caging
Mental mayhem got **** critics gone slam
Still eat green eggs and ham lyricist i am
**** all the hataz debators spectators
Be keeping the bucks on me see mills
Walk around me snort the change Rudolph
Reigning with dears sharp as an indian spear
Pierced your noggin got ya blood jogging
On the pavement no
sentiments
Only to the dead investment ya times wasted
Now ya shared with death basements twitchin'
From bass hittin' beats cooked out the kitchen
Studio feel me flow deeper than six feet below yo...
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2020
if my life was scripted by a guy ritchie
or a tarantino...
oh god: it would happen so smoothly:
i would never:
but always fake it as an n.p.c. -

ol' grandfather died and i finally resolved
to never ever like writing:
and this pain is a crease:
i wish it was a goosebump...
but as b.c. socrates said it:

find yourself a good wife...
and you'll be happy...
ol' grandpa didn't find a good woman
in my grandmother...
he became a philosopher...

my luck lies with prostitutes...
now the sketch, sketching over a sketch...
i tried that path once:
the gamble...
invested in being swept under
a carpet with the bugs and dust...

now i approach the song i heard
at an open mic night in edinburgh
once... neil young's old man...
and only recently:
      cumberland gap: hence the reference
to guy ritchie...

there are instances of dementia patients
living out their last best preserved
in care homes...
3 months...
blitzkrieg shock a day before
he died: ****** gwandm'ah calls
up...
who does that?!

             i apparently own a phone
i can only make calls with:
i am not to receive them!

"my god he loved that woman!"
beside a god
the mythological sophia:
patriarch ***** of abraham:
but what of this mythological woman?
this mother this sister
this grandmother this ****-buddy...
this word-on-word 69er...

it's hardly a mystery:
it's not like death played poker with me
over the debate of 3 months:
such is family...
once upon a time...
before the subsequent diadems
would disperse -
before the little town was swallowed
by: dying and the nomads it spawned...

no luck with women:
my father is the only exception...
which probably implies my mother
is the exception too...
but even now my father is being strained...
and as ever: i'm mediating some flimsy deal...
but i guess luck with women is
hereditary...
promise me the one in a blue moon
lover!
promise me none of such "things"
just a horse with stirrups!

pain as a numbing sensation from:
it's impossible to feast on details...
and i will not rhyme, rhyme...
i will write my heaving lost...
   i have no more...

but if my life was scripted...
oh... i just imagine the litany
of the omni- god being true: of a god not
taking sides:
how we're still not landlocked
by a reference to the 20th century
sheep-count for the slaughter:
how now, only now...
just as ever: we hear the heroism
of some marcel marceau...
who was never going to be one of
these newly converted readily waiting
for the gestapo max jacob types...

i sometimes wish i would have
invested in that siberian banshee that
st. petersburg's doll and buggy and trolly...
esp. after i heard her: ways...
obviously as toxic as it might
have taken turn:
i'd compete with bottle and brothel
as she would have skidded off
for some m.d.ma. and some buckle &
friendly ****...

thank anyone for this morning
how the newspaper was brought home,
then the muddied walk through
the bower wood...
that my feet take me walking
and i obey: a dog of chess...
   and then back for coffee and a revision
of morning going out
again for some buns...

by the afternoon i found a new walk
and will undertake it come tomorrow...
at the entrance: a couple were looking
formidably anti-
        a forwarding of feet onto it...

come: let us steal the moon as
the scythe it appears when it reaches
its sharpened crescent slit of a gaze!
The Turning Of The Tide

Mark the true one who is ready to explode through the bass of the microphone
Temper clean let me be the first to reside on each belly top we read a lot,
The carriage builds on each given disguise we care a lot through the chasm
On earthen pillows we step a side for each episode we take our stand
Lead by example we come undone from each known episode;
Hair spray to match on each known folly take a ride on the trolly....
Fill up the garage like a good man to take heed trample out each need

Each new style we crave through each turning of the tide
We look to the wind lest of course we begin all over again
jukebox Aug 27
silver tears streak across the horizon.
bare backs shilt the weight of travellers
they can only cry to each other,
screeching for companionship - as they grow hot under a cloud  -  less
sky than later in that day when it was pouring
and they couldn't see
blitzing across the grassland when
ERCH
the pair embrace
and a toppled trolly not so far down the way-
there -
right there!
I think I hear someone screaming!
There might be survivors

"it happened so fast  -
we just derailed"
Working on it. suggestions welcome!
this is: ρ2=a2 cos 2θ or ρ2=a2 sin 2θ:

linear: like any wording of an equation:
rho squared equals
a squared
cosine 2 x theta
or...

rho squared = a?
not b?
quantum ****... i live only once:
i get it..
a squared sin
() () ()
)(
()
)(
sinus captivity: within the confines of history
there is no leftover smell:
there's no scent of the times of Victorian
London: esp in the east end...

TCHNLGYˢᴹᴿᵀ

it's almost a logo: but i found myself
clearly a Luddite...
i'ay'ck...

           graffiti of year zero:
so, these things are connected like the ergonomics of
the electron:
clouds of weaving
this: oh my curse this potency:
i said
3 for Y
4 for H
5 for W
4 for H: 3 + 4 = 7
+ 5 = 12
_ 4 = 16: + not + = - _
i'm speeding to making wording mosaic
Chopin: believe me:
the music is a curse a cross like no other:
Christ Irrelevant with
Antichrist Irreverent...

           by now i call upon my darkest sloth
that's the guardian of eyes
and that of death...
i implore the language of some other god
to combat this god of plagiarists
and scuttling thieves..

B8... just watched a reclining arch
of a man
only fathoming sleep...
i saw a dirt a pre-
of ash splendor
i saw who i was
when this single mom and trolly
peered into my eyes past
my sunglasses and knew
who was looking back: ergo nihil
how i dispose of ego cogito
to become ego sum
via NIHIL and not via  ERGO...
cogito nihil sum!

cogito nihil sum!

my intellect is a proud
faction: AXS: axis:
i'm reading out the LAtin with the ABjad
i will make this year 0
the year of the quake...

i will not invest in thinking as this mortal
diabolical, demented wish fortune:

i have one equation though...

∞ > 1 < ∞
∞ < 1 < ∞

there should be 4 avenues within
the confines of the 3 dimensions...
i mean: how can you begin writing
infinity with any number
but there are two letters you can
use: o
                 o
   o
              o             o                o

you can begin writing infinity:
the rest is arithmetic: no?
1 + 1 = 2
but a deeper Kantian beyond
the 1 + 1 = 2: synthetic a priori...
analytical a priori?
ask me: when i'm drunk:
about how much you love me...
give me eternity: you want the squalor:
we SYNTHESIZED LETTERS AND NUMBERS
as AID TOOLS
WE had some push and shove
to see and analyse LETTERS and NUMBERS
and numbers in letters rather than
letters in numbers...
VI / IV...
                   is?

         break for me: write in the diary:
20th July 2023 she had her first period
now i'll turn this dragon in a chimera
of the juggernaut and goat and...

REPTILE: a great thriller...
i'm not surprise by Justin Timberlake
saying: **** it and driving drunk
but there's Taylor Whiff to compete with
and the masses need fervent minding
and feeding with distraction:
and if Christ was the birthright of Second Jacob
the romance:
the Morality Baron:
i quick-snapped at the prospect of basic Newtonian:
apple falls on head:
a spawn of id the idea is born:
since ego has thought and the linear:
then id has idea and the abstract of linear
namely geometry:
ego is temporal:
id is spatial...

                superego is what satan is:
as the holy spirit:
in the prizing of the Assyrian trinity
attempting an Ancient Egyptian revival
via the Hebrews...
idiot: is the superego: equivalence of the id...
egoist is not an idiot
an idiot is not an egoist...
get your starter package while
i get mine...

egoist, idiot... id est: iota: but just by the measure of 1?
0.000000000001 < 1 < 1.00000000000001
there! i found it!
how punctuation works in harmony with music
beyond the realm of the "art" of arithmetic:
i just needed to appreciate:
what sentence and where to:
****** is a broader term for the current malaise
and disenchantment...

but some people are not there: yet or never...
if i can ingest 3.5g and hallucinate with-out ink
like pixel Job: meets Beelzebub and the Nasty Finger
one ups the **** to downs
the slither of slug of tongue to lick the familiar
parts and at junction
****: without a kiss: but a hiss:
there's the 69er sunrise of an ***
full buttocks: rosemary: croissant cheeks:
gleeful...

smart technology: next level of cashiers
while the genuises burn out and become roaming
stars...
while we have this brainstorm: stop:
a confusion of *** ensues and that's
rather Nag Hammadi apocryphal recreational
study away
from the Church: the church is no more with
the perpetuated Coliseum:
all talk is done there: why the **** has
demand and care for respecting "the" church:
i'm not getting paid to be nice
when i dictate:
there will be a river of people using the eXIT
signage of my discretion against
a sea of people that turns into
an earth: an impasse of people...
but where the earth and the sea are elements
of overcoming and overpowering...
one must imbue the spirit of Air and the spirit of Fire:
and i was not!

i was not born of Fire!
the Quran believes i lie!
i spit on the Quran!
i **** on it i **** on it i ******* ***** it!
the envy came from He
who was born of Air...
i was not born of Fire!
i was born of Air and the slightest of touches
that commands the focal point
of the Sistine Chapel with God
touching Adam index for index...
i was born of Air: not of Fire...
i am the wind in the forest at night
i am not your Promethean Slave!
i was not born of Fire!
i was not born of Fire!
i was born of Air and Darkness and Light!
but fire is only a chimera of Light
it is not my abode! it is not my abode!
i was born of Air!

a life a breath of the breadth: a depth:
i own you nothing beside a revision concerning
the subjectivity of man:
with being subjected to too much
objecting to so so much of the little still available...
we are subjected to so much:
by alias: also: being less and less objectionable:
that the fairer *** resorted to:
objectifying itself...
since: this is the first malady of a democratic
ordeal:
if one is being subjected to so much:
that it feeds the parasite of the non-mind...
with so much democratic subjugation: being subjected to:
passwords, fairs... insurance...
blah...
         then one can only be privy
to the bogus of "being" objectionable to gravity:
where object meets objects:
in the realm of gd...

               so all this objectification to the counter
of the subjugation of lost rhyme:
just *** blockers:
      if this isn't a summary of 0 twice: 00:
i will die but i will have lived having done
work:
and that will only allow me to shine
if i escape to Kauai:
and that's still smaller than any Wembley Event
i worked at:
Thursday: tomorrow is Tuesday...
the Boss is playing on Thursday:
i demoted myself
i don't need a ladder:
when i have the snakes....

   Benicio del Toro (57):
argument "argument" with mother and father:
and Javier is not older?
Javier Bardem! (55)... ****...
i was wrong: the prettier Spaniard was
actually older...
i don't wish to get to that age:
after all in England:
what is the desired ethnicity for reproductive
purposes: not really:
Spaniards and the Blacks:
all...
but it has been over 20 years and i have
never been with an English woman
and i think that's somehow:
my, Eve's and Adam's forbidden fruit...
i'll turn the serpents tongue Y
into how a tree also with Y originates...
yahyuh
  my... YHYH:
                               at least then: there are
at least 8 of us talking...
      ΔH∇H
the DElta-NablAH tetragrammaton:

     ʎ: Seal of the I See...

YHΛH...           ΓHΛH


                                                          ­ γηλη

at least the Jews left the best toys
to the worst of boys:
imagining me not being on the receiving end
of German-**** expansionism
and Soviet Russia expansionism...
like the situation with:
well: i would be all up in arms with Ukraine
but then:
that slight hiccup:
Sienkiewicz wrote about:
the... Khmelnytsky Uprising...
                        so my support for Ukraine is:
sort of... slim:
give us back L'viv! you ******* Georgian *****!
GeLe...
                   we can toy around with this
his most sacredness but who will come off
as having interested him the most
out of the necessity of mind obliterated
by mind projected
within now: the confines of the claustrophilia
of technology?
i'm only transferring old data
from an old phone to a new Samsung:
Malaysia and the barbarian Chefs
seriously: Ramsey: take that bat spit
and ant crunch and forget the fusion of spices:

i simply can't adhere to suspense animation
with the uprising and
with UPA... the Ukrainian Insurgent Army...
ergo a four way invasion
of Poland:
the Ukrainians, the Slovaks,
the Germans and the Russians:
like my diabolical other united kingdom...
but since not island bound less
respectable time-frames... of existence...

although... one could
begin comprehending infinity
with a cyclic functioning: within: cycles
and functions...
             the basic f(x)
          π(∞)

the function is a coefficient of a circle...

      π = coefficient: abbreviated as 3...

          is therefore replaced with lemniscate:
and that's an impasse:
since:        there is no      ∞²

   ergo                                  π(∞)

           or just relaxing: eating dried pasta...
like me chewing on chicken bones
getting to the marrow
to **** the juices no longer there
just this brown judge overcooked
but overcooked bones are
not overcooked meats...
so there is no double slaughter of the animal
when not prepared properly...

coefficient: that's the basic stasis
investigative force behind
the most appropriate definition of
consciousness not: arriving or relapsing into
a new arriving (reincarnation):
just the linear property of time...

        π(∞) π can't be given algebraic foundations:
constrained to the circle...
it's the most ingenious tool of contentment...
i'm just a fan boy at the end of the day:
the ancients had ways that moderns
will be made into the Holocaust
and the Jews were warned while the Germans
were warning "us":
less than the usual canape of food
for thought and worms...
Michael John Oct 10
i-i
i-i

i sometimes wonder what
we would do without conformity
or diversity..

take a fizzy drink
we will call horse´s ****-if
we did n´t all want it

then, it would not be..
same with love and belief..
caw!..lily pauses...

ii

some of you are probably
wondering what is she-
a notated anarchist..

revolutionary poet doing
opening a supermarket?
i need the money..lol..

but the way to change
is from with-in-and everyone
must eat-

iii

i do wonder what tennyson
would have made of it all
our consumer society..

there is something comforting
there is order
what is yours is yours

what is mine is mine
how else can it be
render unto caeser..

iv

in times of yore
nomadic man roamed here and
there..

(now we have asda
progress-can´t stop-)
we fought or effed and

then built a fence and
posession hopped
into our hearts like

an endless summer
and here we are..
of the future..

v

to conform or
grow your hair and
don flairs

a dab of patchouli
behind the ear
a flower in the hair-

am i me lsd
love an alien
have a nice time or

vi

the snack aisle..
the diverse
where i see

vision of the wild
the grass
a dying tree..

vii

at this moment i
stand with scissors
and see your expectant faces-

life is pure profit
or a bargain basement
or short changed

or hauled before the
man to beg and beseech
innocence..

not a word i use lightly
i leave you with this
supermarket..

viii

ginsburg followed walt
around-as he eyed
the pretty boys-

lonely old grubber!
and indeed who has
not fallen head over

trolly wheels-we met by
the meat counter..
romantic tales..

two way mirrors
surveillance and
*****..

look-30 percent off
a machine and well
kept bathrooms..

— The End —