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LearnfromBOBD Dec 2018
I don’t even know what you saying,
Speech like phrase’
Fear is our biggest enemy nothin’ holds any meaning’
I am reminiscing our memories we spent together in a dream.
Where is nature’ when it dies, who will bury it.
Or who will throw away its ashes.
I wish life could be forever without another life,
Every one says the right thing’
No one is ever wrong.
Why should I care,
When life is unfair’ I couldn’t hate death for am powerless.
You have no enemies, Am telling you’
you have none.
Life is a drama, full of miracles and mysteries.
I can’t hear you’ gimme time
just my words Aug 2018
And it reminded me so much of life!
How when life starts off, our  little hearts can be heard
everything must seem so very confussing.........
so many far off, faint muffeled sounds, we must hear
inside the womb.
Our mothers sometimes crying
I wonder if we could tell
if our mother wished we were not there.............

and on and on we grow
untill that day when we inhaled the light
for our very first time
Oh! how it must have felt at that very moment!
as we streched out, our little blood soaked bodies
and cried out with every bit of strength we had!
for all to hear...............
I wonder if we wanted, someone to cheer,
that we were born?
Ben Tol Dec 2018
Grey man with a grey face,

Living life at a fast pace,

Rammed in like a multicultured paste,

Next to no breathing space,

Enter and exit with a pompous haste,

Leaving the underworld is step-by-step race,

Each contestant on the credit chase.
False Poets Feb 2015
the mathematical statement in fluid mechanics that, for a fluid passing through a tube in a steady flow, the mass flowing through any section of the tube in a unit of time is constant**

instantaneous our love defined,
a fluid mechanic in the realm of ethereal,
where unlimited immeasurable undefinable

mass time flow sweat pulse anger forgive caress kind

quantifiable terms of our equation unique
in this poem
no waxing poetic,
excellent pure licked lips
are quantums and quarks visualized
though invisible the flow constant per unit of time from
initial good morning kiss to intemperate
indulgent good night conclusions
submitted here for your
analytical digression importuned

the square root of the continuity equation's solution
zebra Feb 20
scarlet haught
queen of mirth
dog ****
drooling jewelry red splits
pulled by a chariot  
of six hundred million house cats
dissembling for freaky insertions
of scarlet bud flowers uterine tube

breath of spit
while ballet toes kiss fingers and tongues
glazing thickly tides sweat
bamming greased ****

Christ *****
"once upon a never more"
bi-sexed up
**** twitch glistening holes
drizzle fish
in red tents overturned
for fabulous *******
and angelic *****'s
flirty dance the come **** me  

her throat a never ending squealed gullet
sublime Madonna of Oor
bare thighed and pulpy spread
scissor strokes and stride
wagging tongue for rosy oleo sticks
and **** pastry rectums pulled tight
in lop sided temples of split flesh

another ambulance to the emergency **** ward
in a dreamland of leggy nurses

sacred fig of Freyja
Goddess to **** toys
and pretty pretty who go that way
hocus opus poke and stir
freckle face **** mouth
a lapping menagerie

i gird my ***** and follow her
into a cologned room; of dark rim box butter
***** yelping for
a slow grind in a belly of clams

red and velvet pageant
she nests in the heart
a midwife disturbia
to pregnant lust
being pushed down and worked up
till loosened in thick ****
and black whip afterbirth
like flowers of curves and blood

her banquet; a platter of wet orifice
trilling vibratos ******
and anxious kisses crawling through her mouth
like fallen angels flying
dire sister of knock out *******
pleading goth nuns for lesbian heated
Satan loving veiled Christian crotch
and a thousand delicious gaped
******* **** poundings
and mouth ***** **** plunge

crucifix of wrack and *****
****** and beaten senseless
instructions from the  book of night
of **** and spite
written by
Abrahams primitive nations
arms of the cross she is nailed to
sweet ***** waifs beaten dead
in a tillage of brokenness

mans club
shore of incinerated witches and tortured justice
shut up when your talkin to me
clan of honor
duo troupe
almanac of hell
zebra Dec 2018
come here with the jackknife and see what I'm made of
i'm **** candy she said
taffy and blood
a steaming deli
doomed chicken of the sea
doll parts, splayed pomegranates
femurs left in a ******; wish bones
eviscerations to admire
peaches and cream sprinkles
skin like cold grey soap
barbed wire ******'s spas
like a toilet flushing
spirographic squiggles
at the museum of modern art

video girl
video girl
video girl
butter flies flutter bye

dead movie star dancing
a matinee cyclops
everybody wants a glitter ****
incandescent candy store
a piece of her to take home in little bite size chunks
in a heart shaped pink box leaking red meat
enshrined crucifix; kosher
an **** of heretics like me
and maybe like you

god is whatever is in your heart

i pray to modernism
to be saved
by *** death and resurrection
and a bigger ****
impregnation ghoul
like a solar ******* hero
*** heroine
a Bedouin and a Jew ******* each other off
in a New York City
Holiday Inn
while the Kabbalah and Koran read each other

I packed the suit case
with a yellow mucous colored rubber tube, a razor and stockings
I don't know what ill do with it, but ill think of something

God spins death
so why cant you; or are you to good for that
albeit a narrow construction
to carve my fate in such short order

ill get into my short short funeral skirt and girly bobbles
ill go up and down on you like a yoyo
sea Venus foaming *******
til you flip me over
a deli sandwich
and cut me in two
splattered ketchup
on the blue plate special; extra mayo
while a huddled sabbath of *******, extra ******
groan like Pisgah turned to mulch
indigo shards suicide note
ending in
i don't mind
and precise instructions
please chew slowly while I **** on your teeth
stuck rot
while still kissing you
better bring a napkin and floss

you know I would get hot,
seeing my one way ticket next to your return one

wish we could
**** candy
pastel chew
blood bubblegum
melts in my mouth like quicksand
hissing fruity drops looping
you go down like squid
clawing your way back up half chewed with that hurt look
making wet mud holes blink
dark vapors tear my eyes

you wont need a head stone
your feet will look good sticking out of the ground
with anklets
a fashionista
except upside down
your funeral; a foot kissing ritual
religion; follow dead feet, to paradise

head down *** up
you know; the position of power

your the new aeon
grave stone arches with toe ring twinkles
rectitude striving
hot head buried in dirt
antagonizing worms
because your to hot to chew
like molten core
a zombie ******
velvet tabernacle
smooth leg art
and pretty pointy toes
where glitter lights shine
pickle brine
in a
Promethean ******* ballet
phantasmagorias dark embrace

this is no ordinary love
dialog of paraphilias
surreal horror subversive
a poem about the non-rational sacred
untethered poetry
song of a shattered world

Across the spectrum of religious experiences—from the archaic and chthonic experience of sacred power to organized religion—surrealism arises in that elusive threshold between the sacred and the profane, between the illuminations and of everyday life and the more formal expressions of the sacred. The mysterious, contradictory nature of this liminal zone is embodied in surrealist literature and art: matter becomes metaphor; the ordinary object becomes extraordinary; and images evoke emotional disturbance and ambiguity rather than specific ideas. The ambivalent force of the surreal resists conventional rational categories of intellectual discourse. Behind its elusive potency of mood and charged associations lie the fundamental ambivalence and non rational power of the sacred.
—Celia Rabinovitch, Surrealism and the Sacred
ConnectHook Sep 2015

        See Other Caution on Back Panel:

I’m hot for you Cowgirl – you’re so flammable my glue-gun starts to melt; my screwdriver starts twisting when you loosen that low-slung belt. You make me feel like laying re-bar in a freshly-poured foundation. Shoot me up with that caulk gun baby – I need you like salvation. Ten and one-half fluid ounces – pull off your top, pop a love-cap in me. Fingerin’ your trigger while the job is gettin’ bigger so take me for a ride to the hardware store, honey, cause I’m seeing red and feeling white on your golden background’s sheer delight.  Hammer me a heart-full, spike me on a cross of blonde, I’m hanging ten, surfing the tube of your magic wand. I’ve been in love ever since I first waterproofed my seamy undersides with you… stand over me in those red, red boots, you Liquid Nails Girl – and from your pure white Stetson let righteousness unfurl. You won the shoot-out long before you even drew, my dear. Lost hope of the Wild West, Final Frontal Feminine Frontier – there’s only one side of you…  your GOOD side.  Just one look and your fearless gaze silences the foes, my blooming prairie rose.
YEE – HAW !  Be my angel, be my dream, my valentine rodeo queen, be my bodyguard, my therapist, long & tall & hard & wet – be my Liquid Nails Girl forever and I’ll ride right into your sunset…
They took her off the trademark tube years ago but she will NEVER be forgotten:
i just want to take a polaroid of us
at the covent garden tube station
i miss london too much
sean pomposello Mar 2017
Seven nuns
at the Seven
Sisters Tube
Station ready
for their trip.
Planejane2 May 19
I was searching for some love.
Thought I could find it in your touch.
Thought I could feel it deep inside me,
But it was *** & not intimacy.

I was confused on the feeling
Thought it was something that was reeling
But I had no idea that it could be so complex
This was not intimacy, it was just ***.

I thought this was something we could do
I was young just like you too.
We didn’t really understand what we saw on the Tube.
It was neither *** or intimacy.

We are both here right now.
Staring each other’s souls down.

A reality and a fantasy.
I used to
  Drink my face off
     'get lost' to this world

I'd stare at my insides,
   My red raw meat

Up to full speed
    I  wiped more off my chin
       Than most others drink

    Life was going down the tube
And I wasn't helping the situation none

Everywhere I went I wore out any welcome
  My rude, angry self, had no restraint at all

The face left me
   Was nothing I could live with
     I  had to clean my act up,
       Make me a more presentable me
           Blend in with those  I chose as my peers

Imagine that,
No more 'Bums Rush'
No more bloodied noses
No more " Here's your Hat, what's your hurry"
Northern Poet Feb 14
Up north there's this thing called queuing
Down south it looks more like ******* looting
I can see the trouble brewing
Squeezing on the tube – can't even get my ******* shoe in
Some of these miserable ******* look like they need shooting
Stuck on the northern line back to Tooting
Evan Backward Jul 2012
The flower opens softly.
Welcomes the sun into its depths.
The seeds slowly take flight,
Wandering between shafts of sunlight.

A baker walks home after work.
He, or she. They nod to a passerby.
Must be friends.
How nice.

A ribbon falls gently from the hair
Of a little girl.
Tied there loosely, as it was.
The wind had no trouble starting the dance,
That would lead it fluttering down the busy street.

I smell you, see you,
Hear the call of the ocean.
The roll and rumble.
The fall, and tumble.
Maybe I've just had too
Much salt water today.

The muscles contract.
Air flows through the tube, to bring about
The vibrations of song, and moonlit afternoons.
Laughter floats unimpeded into the wind.

I must be insane to think
That my feet actually touch the ground.
I'm sure they just fall through it.
I really shouldn't walk in graveyards anymore.
ogdiddynash Jul 2018
daily provisioning

wallet  watch  testicles  spectacles
cash (single bills) cell phone
bottle of water   hairbrush with vanity attached,
personal technology baggie
(earbuds, variety of charging cords etc.)
loose change in order to fall from pockets & annoy yourself
sunglasses (idiot! summers half over) and something else...

pocket tissues!

skin and bone, muscle, all flavors and multilayers,
a language of music only you hear,
the pumping station internal, the gaga motion
product of the palette of body following souled emotions,
the antacid pills after that burrito;
and that strangely named thang called


your teeth  your smile, your shyest guile,
to catch that lady’s hopefully.        
reciprocated pearly whites delight,
pen and pad to record being a sad and mad good lad,
a Swiss Army knife if the tube or bus
should (will) breakdown,
your tiny little bottles of
inspiration  perspiration and perspective,
that you forgot to


the list to do and the list
to add to the to do list
and good heavens,
a serious writing utensil
to fool yourself when
thinking serious thoughts like


the last but should be first,
the house keys!!
keys just an enabler
to do it all again


July 11, 2018  10:22pm
DivineDao Jun 2016
A Cat              Avoids his hated food, whimiscal purrs around your legs are tranquilizers for a weary soul, the golden dreams of wise whiskers  ~ alert and conscious ~ so they seem ~ soft paws from tree top landing among green blades of grass ~ as telepathic tigres they look directly in your eyes and heal you when your life energy is in demise.

A Dog             Believes you're his best friend, come on, let's run with rustling winds along this summer fields! Bark loud my lovely friend when devious burglars start to creepin' in and lick with loving love my every wound away. You are the greatest love of all ... Come on  ~ let's howl this soulful song together with u-tube tunes and fetch the stick and search for stones and pebbles thrown in running waters deep. Sniff out the mice and moles in hiding holes. And try to climb a tree when bushy tailed squirrel is laughing at thee. Wiggle your tale and give me your paw. Do joyful air jumps after the frisbee is aloof and when yours favourite bouncy ball desires the firm grips of your white fangs. You are my best friend for ever and ever at my knee, walking besides me, protecting me and my dear family.

A Giraffe        Constant yearnings for the highest leaves
gives her a slender slide ride wonder tall neck. A delicate head is reaching out to grasp the clouds ~ or see the secrets well hidden within you ~ with those wide dark n' dreamy eyes. Reflective mind and funny tongue, and soft two horns ~ ossicones called and lovely thick eylashes ~ they all bathe in sun's blazing heat. Standing in shades, sunrays and playful flickerings have drawn unique pattern patches upon her skin ~ Nah ~ patterns are there for fun ~ cause a giraffe knows pretty  **** well how to fast run! Her peacful charm is gained through a level of a vision's hights ~ above us all who stomp on earth; by being humble at below when reaching for most needed waters of our lifes. Giraffe's gentleness is no surprise!

A Hermelin

A Koala bear
A Lady bug

Okapi Otter Owl Opposum Ostrich Orangutan Orca

Panther Panda Python Protheus Puma Parrot Penguin Polar bear Porqupine Papillon Possum Prairie dog Pelican

A Snail Snake
A Turtle

A Water heron Walrus Weasel Wolverine Wolf Wombat Wild boar Water buffalo Wallaby
X~ray tetra luminous aquarium fish
A work in progress.
DivineDao Apr 2016
When an Author of poetry gains zero likes
                And the reads did occur:**

- you're unlikable, no one loves you, or your poems anymore

- your poem is a total crap

- your abstract art is so intense, people have to yawn and yawn, on and on, to get more oxygen for their brains (if there are any left, right ;) especially when being "deeply" in love => therefore => the lack of a like       
                            implies   =)             Pure Magical Love

- your poem was dealing with the fatal and devastating love nobody else could have possibly comprehend. To you the love-pain is still mean in its torterous palid beauty; and where the poem becomes an altar where you go, when you need to cry out all those beautiful teardrops.

- your descriptive sloppy skills repel the mighty sand castle grainiacs who claim they've reached to the bottom of a tremendously important words  ----> "The cunning Itch" and "This ****** **** Anguish" ~ long before they could have conjured and
      comprehend the totality of an idea of fertile feromones colliding with written opiats of a maddening desire

- your poem was overlooked because it does! I repeat! It does not play on the like-ability or un-like-ability of other writing subjects whose libido has to be saturated and satisfied as when dearest bjork and pj harvey are having a slowly approaching ****** of a concert which was deleted from the u-tube ( from un-understandable reasons ), but never from the sweet memory images and ability to play the song just for your self satisfaction

- your poem' is flying up up up above the mundane passing~stream of warhol's 15 minutes attention ... cosily stretching across the heaven's cerulean grey sky like a fine artistic sofa would undoubtfully do ~ in its utmost beauty : ;engaged to offer the after tired bohemians a nectary respite and those unutterly ******* delights

- you're probably having the enormous amount of the incognito anonimous league of wild n' witty obsessive admireres who pretend they don't read your poems < ==> when they don't press the like, you know you were pressed to any convenient dreamy surface in their daydreams

- or   you   absolutely don't write poetry at
nja Jan 8
Filing errands makes you drowsy and nautious.
The tube dampens your senses.
The highrises make you feel down.
Your values are re-prioritised.
You become the binmen’s *****,
but all is not charred.
You have the chance to remember before,
and you grasp redemption as sand now sifts through your fingertips.
The stars awaken the you beneath the superficial.
The water nourishes your ignored thirstiness for passion.
Written while spending time in Mexico. I had just finished my first term of university and despite all the fun I had had, I was depressed. Away from evweything, Mexico gave me the chance to work on myself and recover.
spysgrandson Sep 2012
I was...

encased in a silver humming tube
shooting through blue sky and soft clouds

the attendant (my daughter’s age) stood
thin knuckles gripping the seat in front of me
whiter than clouds zipping past the window
her doe eyes transfixed on the men
praying with each shallow breath
they would ask nothing of her

some spoke English, some gibberish
waving their razors in ominous dance
slicing the air that carried their words

a pilot at their feet,
a thin red trail, a single line
the only biography he had
written on the cabin carpet
between the cockpit and
where they stood
barking at us, punctuating their orders with prayer and praise
to some God I did not know

“Al lah, A lah…”
more threatening chants
“Allah, Al lah”
more—a shrill scream interrupted this dream
as one yanked an attendant to his side—more venomous words
flying at us like poisoned arrows
(but all of us too frozen to move as these flew through pressurized air)
“please” the only word she uttered before she froze
eternally in the arms of her ****** assassin

the lump in my throat fell, I leaned forward and others did too
(I never saw, but surely they did)
trying to think through the hateful haze
to younger days
how to disarm an assailant—they had to teach me that
I had to remember that—we did that for our beret
but I couldn’t reach back
not further than that morning
when I said good bye to my son

still (“Al lah, Ah lah”—ripping anger from their guts)
I thought, I can do something

the attendant beside me, tears now flowing from lost eyes
(whose smooth blond hair now even looked like my daughter’s)
backed up, her trembling hand brushing my shoulder
(did I think, the last human touch for her, for me?)
my hands grabbed her fingers and I squeezed them gently
(just as I had my own child when I left her side at the altar—
did I say the same words, “Be happy, you deserve it...I love you”)
she looked at me, raindrop tears now instead of fears
we smiled faintly as I pulled her to my seat and rose to my feet

outside the windows
gray square stones now filled the air
blocking the morning sky
where are the clouds I thought…
but only for a second
we are…going to…

I did not feel the cabin floor as I moved towards the miscreant crew
between me and the cockpit door
I was young, light and agile again, sailing at them
their words no longer calling for their god
but now they spoke in direct command,
nothing of some promised land, but
we will…what?
Could I have laughed at the irony…
or we will what?

another now with me, no older than my son
(and looked like he as well)
headed down the aisle
towards men now racing to meet us
four against two
but somehow I knew we would never meet

the lump was in my throat again, my clenched fists relaxed
my own teary eyes turned to the windows, away from the maddening screams
and between endless glass, steel, and stone
I got a glimpse of pure blue sky
last night CNN had a special about 9/11--reminded me of this narrative written on the 5th or 6th anniversary of the event
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