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Classy J Dec 2016
They call me the smartest *****; they look at me like they would at Sauron.  Maybe I am just destined to be defined like an oxymoron, and also why do people shut their doors on me like I was a Mormon. Did I make the right choice when I took the blue pill and moved into Zion? Don’t know how to feel or who or what I should rely on. Bygones are bygones, got to follow the drill, so best not pull any funny ones. Being spied on, got no where to run, after all when your under a dictatorship there is no time for fun, there is only time to train one how to shoot a gun. Blang blam got a cross on fire on my lawn from the dreaded Ku Klux ****.  One extreme to another, what happened to Jesus’s teachings of how we are all heavenly sisters and brothers? **** the American dream; **** this apparent land of the free where anyone from anywhere can attain cream. Not a joke so turn this into a meme, this is serious if you only saw the things which some claim as the unseen.

Open your mind; don’t bind yourself to devilish things that appear kind. Charging up my chakra, hypnotizing you with my words like I’m the unclaimed child of Big Poppa. I am so waka I get yawl flocking to my flame, my bars aint **** yeah they as lit as Mary Jane. Bulking up like Bain, natural leader and I got a big brain. Some stalker ******* get so shady, thinking that I will spend my gravy, or that I will have their baby. Sorry I am not interested in getting rabies or taking a taste of your dead daisy. This is my loot; ***** the only thing I’ll give you is the boot. Scoot away from me, best stray by the bay before I write a restraining order on thee.  What is this world coming to? Harold be it that we stuck in a rut with a storm beginning to brew.  

People say I should stop drinking because I got family duties and responsibilities but I drink because I have to deal with the stress from family duties and responsibilities.  **** it all; **** my *****, better duck down because one punch and you’ll fall. Got the gall, Pokémon master man **** right I’m about to catch them all! I’m super and I like to smash bro, so better hide your ***** and your side **. Classically unclassified, mentally traumatized from a fall out of a genocide. Time to be unfiltered; rhyming from a heart that used to be good but now has been altered. Maybe I am just an oxymoron, just a sly fox that know how to survive because no matter what my hope for a better world will stay strong. I may live in this world but I am not of it, I may continue to give until I decide to say ah **** it! Isn’t it ironic? Isn’t the whole point of being a rapper to make a profit and strive to rap as fast as the speed of sonic? Let me puff some **** and drink till I’m subatomic. Wouldn’t that be ironic? Wouldn’t that be something if I chose to become like everyone else and live out a life of being toxic. So am I ironic or am I just an oxymoron? Don’t give a **** either way because I am iconic and will take anything you haters bring on!
David Nelson Aug 2011
Romance Unclassified

lover
wanted
times are bad
need some romance

my love life has gone to hell
need me some sort of magic caper
need to find someone who I can tell
put me an add in the Sunday paper

let me see what sort of response I get
do you think maybe I should add my pic
so far only a call from some guy named Chet
I told him sleeping with guys ain't my schtick

he said he could teach me a trick or maybe two
teach me to play sweet guitar make the ladies sigh
write sweet words is another thing he said I should do
soft sweet voice and sappy sad guitar sounds make them cry

maybe a fine new hobby would be good for me
heck I could learn to weave a basket
I need something don't you see
before I wake up in a casket

need some romance
times are bad
wanted
lover

Gomer LePoet ....
Marsha Singh Jan 2011
Should it matter what we call it?
What sound our mouths make?
That's just typology, interpretation;
my love for words doesn't mean
I find them adequate.
Do we have to call it anything?

Can't I just say
*I will love you tonight, 
like that girl you write poems for,
only better ?
Simon May 2021
"Being Processed Overload", doesn't come with many benefits, when your already tolerant of one thing, and one single thing...ONLY...!
By any chance, what do you think that one single ONLY thing is...?
Well, it's nothing more than what's come beforehand, or afterwards...
After all, what becomes fully "silence" at the end of the day, is nothing more than what is generally written, or seen, or even displayed (fully), "between the lines".... And it won't make a single slither of sense, unless your willing (to give yourself that one single "affordable" chance), to not be in a state of "Processed Overload", anymore!
Implying, that the most obvious results ("had"), and ("will"), always hide from deep within the states in-between the things that "can be seen", and the parts (of those very "things", that for some strange reason haven't fully yet been discovered), had remained entirely significant in part towards those very things that..."can't be seen"). Hiding, (when you least expect them to do so).
So, the whole point of being processed overload, is the very claim, that you are witnessed to something that can't be entirely seen... Or else, you'd become entirely "Overloaded" with too many processes!
When you’re already dealing with enough as it is... Especially when those very states in-between are hard enough as it is to see ("from within"), to begin with.
It's a full contact sport (when life get's significantly rough for your own eyes to become terribly outwitted by all that processed overload)!
It's when a totally realistic testament for truth (in itself), when being faced with so much, (without enough benefits to help you grab hold onto what's entirely tolerant that comes and goes either beforehand, or even afterwards...) Eventually speaking, it is the very basic lesson of things being entirely...ruled out.
So, it doesn't keep sticking too you, like a VERY BAD THORN IN YOUR SIDE! Forevermore telling what you should and should not do. And lastly, forcing you to see reason, as nothing more then for "control" to be seen as a pure...illusion.
While being so discouraged of (once being able to see from within, "at one moment" beforehand, then entirely fully dropping afterwards, when met with yet another, "specific moment", that most important...)
This most potential realization, (if at all you have caught onto it by now, of simply being so, where you'd learn from it, as who knows...you haven't particularly been doing it to begin with, as of yet...) Then, it's safe to say, that (while you try and try some more, eventually coming around to some type of partially known/partially unknown progress being involved...), doesn't exactly mean there's a type of significant progress in your failures, (for simply being able to understand).
You understand because you think you've made progress with the main issue, which is now clear for...ALL TO SEE!
Then suddenly out of the blue, (and as if it hadn't already been obvious enough...) Things start eventually becoming baseless. Coming to a very abrupt "fixated" halt!
But that doesn't actually mean you have seen (and then most prominently, "recognize") "why you do it!" Which forces you to start believing that everything is truthfully..."unclassified." Enabling everything (you once held dear).
Typical beliefs (within your own once secured belief system), now suddenly become...flawed!
Since the only expectation, was other's approval (apart from your own). And if you’re not able to see what is obviously in the states from in-between, then you’re literally going to see a one-sided viewpoint of everything for the remainder of your life. Controlling you in a pure illusion... From never explicitly being able to see (the other half of that entire viewpoint), with a straight open-mind.
Meaning, lifestyles will remain forever warped!
And your own lifecycle will continue to both shift drastically. Which in tune will remain as the very same dramatic "repeat", forevermore!
For the lack of reason that slowly but surely keeps both flowing inward, and outward... But not in the right type of recognition for your very self to both handle with careful consideration towards that very recognition, or for that very basic of acknowledgements just so you can handle yourself as you make your way through the different "fields full of clutter" (that seem to forevermore block your sights from simply being able to see clearly), with careful consideration...for your own identity to bear!
Because at the end of the day, identity (especially one that is trying to ALWAYS find different ways to sense, then fail here and there...)
Is nothing more than a tired effort...full of such actions...that keeps significantly turning into consequences...full of doubt.
(However, it may never be real doubt happening, when the consequences are just blaming you for your past, AND present faults of a tired effort that can't use their own actions very well anymore, when you’re also not seeing clearly again, anymore, either). Except, when your own presently perfect and overused (always in the limelight) doubt that of course, starts "sugar-coating" the very truthful actions (when you know you obviously already did something wrong), with nothing more than a good old dose of...guilt! Your regular and normal perception of things becomes utterly...twisted! Mangled! Bent out of shape! Stringing you up and wrapping you ever so tightly! Abruptly popping out a random pitiful bow (like on a present) full of both negativity and unprecedented bad luck on top of an entirely disfigured and misshapen present! (Not to mention the very wrapping paper that had become this HUGELY distorted pattern, that influences you in such a wrong sort of way, because again... So, you won't see clearly!) Until there was nothing left but...silence!
Silence at the end of the day, is seeking pleasure (in the moment of doubt, which significantly amplifies guilt), without taking the necessary time to fruitfully take noteworthy details into account...), that you truly have been "duped" this entire time...by your already currently corrupted self...who had been entirely "compromised"...long ago!
(And here's the very sad, and worst part... You didn't even see it happen....) Totally not your fault. It's just lives very bad tempos full of those constant rhythmic beats (that turn entirely into HUGE gimmicks that detests the very pattern...), which doesn't become soiled...when it's (even worse then EVER before), where the very beats have been already weeping alongside your own strides full of hesitant footprints that don't relate to the same old size shoe of the many lookalikes of footprints that followed after the other.... Almost as if everything then started with a beat full of such a rhythm (that came and went, as it naturally would). Then become suddenly confused when it's nothing more than for the sensation/feeling to become abruptly filled...as an everyday common joke. Then...for a pattern literally too weep alongside moving forward ever so gently, (by gently striding with the slightest of common footsteps you could literally muster, where there's no such accumulation where everyday common footsteps could be seen...) But here's the catch (which comes with a GREAT kicker involved...), where you can seriously see it from within, (and not entirely from the outside of yourself). Which entirely distorts this very meaning to begin with.
Even if you had... It had already been too late! When you were truthfully blinded from the very...START!
If only whatever comes (beforehand), or fully starts tolerating the (state that comes beforehand), where the (state of coming afterwards), then of course comes...after, (that which "what is beforehand"), is then helpful enough in being simply portrayed as nothing more...than what you could have already fully expected.
Except, when you anticipate something even more wrong...because your very own expectations (about the very main situation at large/involved), had become unsteadily stranded for dear life. Drifted away, since the very compatibilities didn't match up correctly. (And while being potentially forevermore left adrift without so much as a single change of scenery, (since you'll always stay the same...) Because you simply didn't know how too! Or even worse, being so processed overload, that you have let everything grow around you like this constant "Underbrush"!
An Underbrush seems to always be full of such twists and turns! Overly protruding vines that both poke and ****, according to your very own limitations wasting away the only strength that you held bear for so long... You are just lucky enough...you had lasted this long...! A truest claim among such miracles, that can only tolerate itself long enough...before it truly realizes what's been in front of it's very self (this entire time). And at which time...forces you to again, realize (and then sadly force you to then in its entirety, to acknowledge...), at just how much you've been in the "wrong"...this entire time....
Which in doing so, HEAVILY influences the very reasoning right out from under your own logic, which makes your own reason EXPEL that very logic, and just...throws it directly straight out the window like it's some yesterdays unimportant choice of reasoning! (Even going as far as to then look at it like it's pure...trash!)
(When today, it isn't truly looked at as the very center of one's own ordeal!)
I mean, of course it is...but your now stuck in that very illusion, (where now thinking control is this very illogical, negative, immoral, etc.), piece of obstructed, and nonsensical piece of doo-doo! ...And that isn't right about ANYTHING! Except, for what you have yet to ("properly see").
Guilt then (forevermore) forms into doubt...and the same lifecycle repeats, repeats, repeats...REPEATS! Until it had ****** YOU DRY! Of every type of energy reserve, you had (within yourself), in order to now begin compensating the very same structure of energy again, (in your very self, by simply using back-up energy reserves, or whatever "juice" was left from those previously already still presently being ****** dry/infected energy reserves that had already been literally either fully, or at the very least, nearly ****** DRY in itself!), of everything it held within it's personal possessions from both ends of the same spectrum.
Just so you can then simply "use" in order to clear away the many obstructions that have spread FAR AND WIDE...!!!
But word of both warning, and that of course of...caution.... Is that it's not going to be some easy and sane type of task, where you are able to just miraculously cleanse...EVERYTHING!
Just so you can then become (even more) an inner victim of your own already corrupted self.
"Being Processed Overload", is a state of INTENSE "ramifications"...of being filled with an already unrecognizable consciousness!
Limiting yourself (by chance itself), is a necessary battle for the forthcomings of both an "inner war" to begin seemingly out of NOWHERE! And for the efforts (if there was actually ANY from the very start), to not simply follow thoroughly through from what was already too structurally important from the get-go.
Simply hinting at, if you can truly follow-through with that main logic, (if you haven't already "expelled" anything worthy of your own self, from not EVER AGAIN being actually able to equip yourself and combat the very such obstructed force from within...) Then you might just have that very chance at recognizing what had truly happened to you.
onlylovepoetry Sep 2017
sometime before sunrise,
when the morn world is
still a dusky daylight, unclassified blue, me slip-slide out
of the communal bed,  where I have been up all night,
draw-drafting poems for manufacture, sale, & gift wrapping,
to await the sunrise, the sunrise, in the famous sunroom,
in a vainglorious attempt to salvage forty winks, full knowing,
that even if I'm successful, the risen eye poking rays of
one the most glorious sights which we earthlings
have been privileged and entrusted,
the sun coming with a clarification of life renewal,
will stab me into consciousness

there I lay with eyes closed, either noisy napping dreaming
like baby wendy, gurgling or emitting contentment noises,
or perfectly still, having slipped a fiver to some tenors,
to entertain me while I slide lie still on the composing continuum

the sun round seven
is maximus glorious and cannot be
looked upon by the audience in direct prayer askance,
so my eyes closed in pleasured servitude, me,
my lumpen proletariat rubenesque carcass corps is

bath burnished in sun glow so warm, so living,
that the warming words are causing a major traffic jam
in the ventricle where the love poems are formed and stored,
but fervency disguised by an unmoving, close lidded human shape

shortly after seven,
the slip soft padding feet of her rumbling noisily,
knowing where to look for him from
much practice, beginning her experimentation to determine
if me-he still among the breathing, or gone to poem heaven

since she aware, the poet in his possess, a
Masters Degree in Pretend Sleeping, must eventually
take drastic measures including kissing my keppy,
then climbing aboard my fetal incongruently angled body
with no warning other than a grunting of deep satisfaction, when,
with all her modest weight in a single swoop, intended to fell,
causing me to emit a volcanic exclamation of

you're killing me*

satisfied, nah, more sated, with a sense of
feminist goddess power ranger satisfaction,
she prepares coffee, grinding the beans, just in case,
I return to my sleep fakery status,
literally, a literary impossibility, as now
the compelling transfusing heat from sun and coffee
impel me to write this pas de deux ballet down in words, a/k/a,
only a love poem

8:32am
p.s. not only a true story,  repeated each week from June thru September,
I have signed confessions frim the serial killer.
Paul Butters Jan 2020
Please don’t view me as white
Or working class
Maybe middle class
Or straight or gay
(I happen to be straight)
Or Leaver or Remainer
Believer or Non-Believer
Aristocrat or Commoner
Patrician or Pleb
Or Anything else.

Don’t put me in a box
Or file
Or stereotype.

I’d rather be Unclassified
Or seen simply as
A Human Being.

Paul Butters

© PB 18\1\2020.
My heart is hanging far from sight
Am dozing off the wheel of complaint, its a lesson well mastered
A journey travelled so long.
Who am I, not to branch and why not keep the track.
Ooops maybe was led by one's blindness
And what happens I didn't realize it was only the small light at hand
I wont blow it for you to loose sight
Am going to build a better ray of light to guide you with your nature
Prune the plants you let to fade
Water the seeds you left to dry
And your reward will be written in catastrophe.
you offer me a glass, I dare to return it with juice
You leap my run, I still run your race.
Emeka Mokeme May 2019
Everything melts as
my heart speaks,
of love and
compassion.
Not of sadness
and pain but
of relief from
burden of pesky
unfortunate and
unsolicited approach
to close an
unclassified heart.
Secrets hidden within
are all out
in the open.
Even if a
piece of boundless
classified
heart is huge,
i can find you.
Because you are
my life.
Lost in the
paradise of love within.
Deserts are nothing
compared to
the huge expanse
of what is
inside the heart.
The heart never
yields to the
lukewarmness of
a dull soul,
for the fire
of the spirit
burns up everything
that sinks the heart
into the mud.
But as slippery
and fickle as
the heart is,
it must also
be consistent and
constant in this matter,
or everything will
crash by itself.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Lorenzo Soldera Apr 2014
I do not claim to represent.
I humbly present my claim.

______(Begin Forwarded Message) ______

3 April 2014
Classification: UNCLASSIFIED
From: me@example.com
To: THC@TheHumanCondition.net
RE: present

To whom it may concern:
I have been subscribed
To your service
Involuntarily.
Two springs ago there was an anniversary.
An old friend tempted me
Under the guise of celebration.
That is not to say
There weren’t suspicious omens about;
Oh, what I would give
To have heeded them!
I’m afraid you provide
A service which far surpasses my needs
(Such that it is the only thing I want).
Your free trial led me to believe
Led me
To the promised land
Only to enslave me there.
The fertile grasslands,
The forests, and the island shores
Mock me in my imagination.
Your service has been
deemed surplus.
The benefits
no longer
justify
the cost.

______(End Forwarded Message) ______

I humbly present my claim.
I do not claim to represent.
3 April 2014.

a lyric addressed to & written under the influence of tetrahydrocannabinol. first poem from the "Disclaimer" series.

© 2014 by Lorenzo Soldera. All rights reserved.
orion j Jun 2014
only ever caught a glimpse of love off of your windshield
nothing more than a reflection

closest encounter of such was when the windscreen shattered upon intimacy,
leaving these….. bruises i can’t get over

a colour somewhere in between azure and lavender that remains unclassified and unlabelled as of now
things without a name, like majority of the past and various faces.
i’ll admit i’ve lost sight of some.

some i’ve spent trying to recollect in contrast of being haunted by various locations i’ve yet to gather the courage to re-encounter
unavoidable, i’ve learnt.
too many to count using just two hands.


you’ve sewn the teensy bits of sadness in between your fingers
if anything they’re filling the gap that managed to find its way to you
scarred and bruises but darling you look fine, if not better off.

when it’s your time to go, wouldn’t you want the cuts to show?
Mystic Ink Plus Feb 2018
It needs greatest courage to feel weak,
Weak can be an ideal humanist.

Humanist has a love for life,
of self, and of others.

Having,  
higher educational background,
stored wealth
or/and
greater strength,
never gets bigger than
being Humanist.

  Humanist classification as follows:
Silent Humanist
Naïve  Humanist
Vegan Humanist
Paid Humanist
Titled Humanist
Part time Humanist
Religious Humanist
Accidental Humanist
Unclassified Humanist
Theme: Beyond Poetry
They forgot to mention the sand storms, the mosquitos, the scorpions and god knows what else is lurking out there in the cultural desert.

I am not just a number said numero uno
secretly pleased at being placed first.

Hey,
don't pull a face
it's Sunday
and
preachers gotta preach.

Remember,
if you're in a three-legged race with one arm tied behind your back playing blind man's bluff and holding a spoon with a boiled egg on it, it's either Easter or you're dreaming.
Mystic Ink Plus Feb 2018
Nocturnal eyes
Poisoned by the light      
No Nicotine, Caffeine, Alcohol
Sound mental health,
Unclassified reasons
Vivid dreams without a sleep

Searching sun at night
In standby mode
Listening to breathe
Minute counts >60 seconds

Autobiographic life
No one to say something, anything,
In night, tomorrow comes today
Time hard to slip by,
Join Stars society,
Still no gain
Science has nothing to offer, and  
No God is gonna help

Carving for Sleep
A good rest is truly a bliss
Experience of heaven on earth.
Autobiography
Shared from my Anthology, Canvas: Echoes and Reflections, 2018.
UA Slam Aug 2020
For the pessimists you were born the day you hurt,
For the optimists you were born the day you survived,
For those unclassified you were born the day you decided to live,
For the realists you were born on the day you touched air,
For the dreamers you were born everyday,
For the independent you were born into your first thought,
For the hurting you were born on the day you died,
For the empathetic you died with them and you were born with a burden,
For the diplomatic you were born head first,
For the curious you were born skeptical,
For the brave you came out colored,
For the kind you were born battered,
For the lost your were born found,
For the found you were born lost,
For the new and untouched you were born fearful,
For the evil you were born most perfect,
For the forgiving you were born with an undeniable strength,
For the newly classified you were born to change the world,
Fate paves the roads ahead of us and obligated are we to follow,
except, why else did God build crossroads?
Mystic Ink Plus Dec 2018
It needs greatest courage to feel weak,
Weak can be an ideal humanist.

Humanist has a love for life,
of self, and of others.

Having,  
higher educational background,
stored wealth
or/and
greater strength,
never gets bigger than
being Humanist.

  Humanist classification as follows:
Silent Humanist
Naïve  Humanist
Paid Humanist
Vegan Humanist
Titled Humanist
Part time Humanist
Religious Humanist
Accidental Humanist
Unclassified Humanist
Theme: Beyond Poetry
Onoma Nov 2023
an unclassified angel

dreams of wake-up...

just to uphold a sledgehammer

of clouds.

she couples with that sound,

to sing aloud.

in twune.

without a sound check.
AmazingsanPoetry Feb 2020
THE WIND
He wants to be like the wind
the breeze ever present, yet not all ways felt ever blowing, ever so soft and translucent, it voiceless  rhythms with such a fine melody that it makes even the mighty oak tree dance to its tunes, ever so underrated yet more precious than all the finest lucre known to all, it's a void, vortices of ether,ever so empty yet none can exist without its  presence..
Though never seen, it stirs up and agitates the most calmest of seas to a magnitude unclassified..
The memories of the wind..

— The End —