Yeah, we have a great relationship. But imagine how much better this would be if I actually loved you back?
But oops, that's right. I forgot to tell you that I'm kind of incapable of loving another human being.

But it's okay, it's not like love is real anyways.

And even though a good percentage of the general population have the same opinion as me, I'm labeled by those around me as a cynical, lonely, pessimistic girl, simply because others can't seem to comprehend that everything I say is derived from my own personal perspective and observations that I've made.
What was it that the naively optimistic, overly positive young man from the book store called me?
Oh yes, an "unjustifiably, unnecessarily negative teen who is disappointed with her life because she has yet to 'experience love.'"
Despite his ignorance and obscenely immature mindset, which evidently accounted for his matching personality, I don't think he realized that my lack of belief in the existence of "true love" was the exactly the reason that I was in the book store.
Because, as I came to realize, it appears that the only form of "love" that I seem to recognize as being adequate enough to somewhat believe in are those spoken of and created in novels.
It's formulated by the birth of a ridiculously intense, love fueled storyline, supported by a mindful choice of cohesive, dramatic, and emotional words.
Hence, fictional love is born, except to most it doesn't seem fictional because it's so breathtaking to read about.
They believe in it, they worship it.
As if it actually exists in an alternate universe.
The unrealistic perfection of it gives them a disgusting, false hope which just drives them to cling to it more.
It's a drug to them, they can't live without the hope that such a "love" exists somewhere in the world; they need it.
And the sad part is, they're completely oblivious to the fact that they have just become addicts, that they just sold their soul and relinquished part of their freedom to a fictitious concept.

It's so fake, it's almost real.

Angels make horrible pets
and enemies
and devils
should be fluffy
unjustifiably weak
enough to mend organs and sink into the mind
enough to swallow ignorant earth
wipe off bodies
set down times
True-believers, and under-achievers
complacent *****
everyone is different
made of hydrogen and certainty
sinking through the orb of space
contracting and expanding independant of the nature of the universe
I shall not be the mosquito
the construction site down in your valley settled with liquid fluidity
couldn't survive paradise
straightened on the sands
whisper love songs
as quiet as fury
slow like my touch
tactile truth
realistic moisture
and this isn't how
a home is wrecked,

He saw her drop a wallet and nobody saw it
He returned it without her seeing it and she was glad
there was no thank you, no need to feel indebted to, no need to reciprocate, no belittling of the effort to not feel grateful, no aggrandizement of the effort to reward overly to the point of removing, no self-praise----all just a quiet act of kindness
but then someone did see him and blamed him for taking it in the first place and not only was the act not appreciated but it was scorned, misinterpreted, misunderstood, confused, defamed and finally ******.  When kindness is ****** could there be any greater crime?  The act was kindness and nobody understood it, and everyone jumped to conclusions, and everyone found one reason to **** for another reason, and nobody took the extra time, caring, compassion, and thoroughness and patience and love it would have taken to find out the truth---so the the greatest crime prevailed---far greater than the act that was understood to be the "justifiable damnation", but isn't it always the breeding grounds for justifiable damnation when conclusions about the biggest things in life are so quickly assumed to be true when they aren't.  Reverse the crime with patience, love, understanding, caring being thorough, being careful, and remember the act of returning the wallet held such integrity that your shine will show the light to everyone else sooner or later but your light will forever shine regardless so don't unjustifiably **** yourself either---love yourself---and thank you for returning the wallet

******* society
For making people believe
That there is a certain way to live and breath
Everyone is the same, there is no variety
You outcast those for rioting
And living their life defiantly
What gives you the right to judge me
You are not god almighty
You are the reason for my anxiety
And loss of sobriety
And visits to the psychiatry
But I stand in protest finally
I will no longer sit quietly
And let you decide unjustifiably
What I should be

Your judgment makes people feel insecure
Why do you believe that everyone has to be similar
Why don't you understand that no one is perfect
Why do I have to conform to your culture to earn respect
Why is money the only way to achieve success
Every person lives just like the next
This makes me feel so depressed

*******, I chose to be unique
I refuse to live a life that's boring and bleak
My life does not need to be critiqued
Your approval will not bring relief

Happiness is key
I will live happy and free

Do you argue your point
To argue for love
Or do you argue
Just because
Do you really care
For every American out there
What are you truly fighting for
Helping the millions poor?
Or are you morphing with society
Doing things unjustifiably
Our hypocritical democracy
A nation full of dishonesty
Soldiers dying left and right
Parents send their kids to school with fright
But all we care about are insignificant things
I’m told, “the ends justify the means”
A country full of hate
Keeping people out because of race
American is so blessed
But most are too obsessed
Many can’t even imagine
How a nation like us can have no compassion
We do not know others lives
For we walk vigilantly in our opportunistic thrive
So forgetful of where we’ve come
For a God whos love cannot be undone
To give back what he gave us
Something we always fail to discuss
We blindly became a nation
Who has no purpose for its creation
Future president, can you do it?
Will you help us get through it?
Maybe you can change it someday
Please. Change us back to who we were yesterday.

The cracking and clatter of ice from the shingles
Is my overture—
The woken cardinals,
My chorus—
Both hailing proud to me, their Caesar
And his triumph of Spring.

Snow sublimes and bleeds on the pavement
Like YHWH’s flood—
The earth will clean itself, having given birth,
It licks away the treated salts
That offend my foot and step—
Quelling there, the wrath on Gomorrah
Giving wife back unto Lot,
Or so it can be said.

Unjustifiably, I feel like a badass
With newfound swagger and perspiration
Down my back—
I shed my second skin in the virile breeze.

So, up the noise and whet your words
It’s time the poet took herself back
And without fear makes due on nothing but life
To die early and die right—
We’ll stand naked on a precipice
And scream out the world’s song
While we imagine ourselves there.

upping the umami, the fifth taste

“Umami is the last-to-be discovered fifth basic taste, along with sweet, sour, bitter, and salty, and triggers a distinct class of taste receptors on the tongue. ... The most notorious (and often unjustifiably maligned) source of umami is monosodium glutamate (MSG), the sodium salt of a naturally-occurring amino acid.”

a chicken soup recipe^ says it’s time,
time to up the umami,
me-the-no-cook is sidelined and intrigued,
then taken to another place

sweet, sour, bitter and salty
are the tastes of you life,
but it’s time to up the game
release the amino acids of my fingers
into her body, the tasting menu scrapped,
go direct to the boardwalk hotel,
railroad her unto my jail,
teach and share the notorious
fifth perception of loves taste,
the elixir of our combinatory sensationalism






————-

The Best Chicken Soup with Rice, Carrots, and Kale
Saveur
Tomato paste and fish sauce add depth and umami to our best-ever chicken-and-rice soup studded with sweet carrots and silky kale.

Forty eight, the number of so called “friends” that I have lost on Facebook since voicing my opinions.

One of them was my uncle, who thought it better to simply unfriend me instead of following my polite request to stop sharing certain opinions with me.

Red, the color of the innocent blood that Officer WIlson drew.

Three, number of days since the Grand Jury decided that Officer Wilson was justified in his slaying of a college bound, unarmed black teenager.

Youth, the group of people who have become fed up with all the lies told to us, all the injustice perpetrated against us, all those telling us we’re not good enough, we’re not complacent enough, we’re not thankful for what we have.

Eighteen, the age Michael Brown was when he was unjustifiably slain while unarmed. A college bound teen, Mike was taken from this world far before his time. “”He should have been in college. He should have been spending all night in the library studying for exams. He should have been going out with friends and making the most of his time. He should have been getting ready to come home to his family for thanksgiving. Instead, he’s 6 feet underground, because that is where Officer Wilson decided he should be.”

I don’t have a gun, stop shooting - Michael Brown’s last words

Gofundme, website that brewed hate and racism, and assisted Officer Wilson in raising nearly half a million dollars

Hatred, the thing that has allowed Ferguson to happen the way it has.

To the ‘change’ that we have seen in the past 50 years since the Civil Rights Movement. To the ‘change’ that has allowed systems of institutional racism to remove innocent black lives from the streets. To the ‘change’ that has allowed Officer Wilson to have zero punishment for taking an innocent life. To the change that we may one day see that will allow Blacks to live freely and happily, and to allow them to have zero fear in situations where they are innocent. To the change we may one day see that will erase the racism that still haunts this country. To the oncoming revolution, may it be strong, may it last, may it save

-m.j.

In a nation torn with racial strife
where killing seems a way of life
where rappers hold the people’s court
and looting is a favorite sport
where drugs and thugs, both black and white,
govern day and rule the night
seems Superman is fast asleep
as shadows o’er the addicts creep
no soap will wash away the smell
of stories we’re afraid to tell.

Truth isn’t always as it seems
judges judge, the lawyer screams
there are two sides in every fight
yet everybody “knows” what’s right
for the FacebookYouTube miracle
sends evidence empirical
across the globe at speeds of light
while the real truth stays out of sight
oft hidden by grey overcoats
of politicians gathering votes.

Words conveniently disguise
weakness clothed in pompous lies,
historical infirmities,
unsupported generalities,
privileged complicity,
intentional duplicity,
centuries of grief and pain
suffered for another’s gain
twenty score and one year more
pounding at the tiger’s door.

Unjustifiably we cringe
when the door bursts open, rent from hinge
an angry mob spills from the dark
pent-up powder keg; a spark
ignites a nation, blacks and whites
protest filled and anxious nights
sweep our nation shore to shore
conscience values cut to core
Will the bell of freedom ever ring?
“The Voice of the Unheard,” said King

As always, angry mobs subside
rise and fall just like the tide
perhaps will leave a water mark
remembrance of the now cold spark
buildings, broken glass repaired
protesters home their grievance aired
reporters and the camera crews
move on and search for other news
We, silent privileged, sit in chairs
and watch the news with vacant stares.

“The Voice of the Unheard,” said King
will the rest of us learn anything?
will any of us hear, and change?
examine values, rearrange
priorities and constitution
sincerely seek a just solution
go marching forward hand in hand
endeavoring to understand
can centuries of wrong turn right?
and win the war with peaceful might.

Will 2020 be the year that starts the revelation?
Do we have the strength and skill to cure the ill
  which permeates our nation?
Will we ever hear our anthem play
and look around and see
all men, all women standing proud
not compelled to take a knee
if hand on heart we do our part, it cannot be too late
to gather strength together
and make our nation great.

Phil Lindsey 6/10/2020

Today was not a good day.
Nothing particularly awful happened,
Nobody was particularly upset,
But today was not a good day.
I wasn’t too hungry, or too tired, or too hot.
But today was just not a good day.
I ate meals, I smoked cigarettes, I drank coffee,
and I do not understand why today was not a good day.
The people around me were happy, and supportive, and very kind,
My atmosphere was overall congenial,
Yet today was still not a good day.

My forsaken heart yearns greatly for the answers to these questions I have in plentiful quantities. My castaway soul yearns for all the solutions. My distraught mind longs for the certainty to fix my conundrums, so tomorrow can be a good ******* day and not blend into this blur of unjustifiably somber days, I feel as though I have been living for so long.

imagine the day you
find someone and,
enthralled with them,
you cater to their every wish.
slowly, they demand you change the core
of your very own heart
and soul.
and after you have
transformed
so radically,
that your reflection is
unjustifiably unrecognizable,
they get up and they just
*******
leave,
and
you are left
in a foreign expanse
of a space that you once knew
like the back of your hand.
~imagine that day, and promise yourself it will never come~

Every hug, every touch, every moment noticed and oftentimes the only one who did
every running to the rescue, every tear wiped away, every feeling catered to, and every whim satisfied
every question answered, every bully dealt with
every intrusion defended, every pain averted
every day of meaning glorified, every attention given
every song sung, and every need met
every resource provided for, and every extra detail taken care of
that I would ever have to help you recall is beyond belief
every moment of a million discarded for what was done
flushed away for what was some, for what was one?
every moment of a million forgotten for what was really none.
Every moment of a million remembered and love given back when it was needed most?  Where is that?
Anyone could be there when all is good and coming their way but what are we when we're not there for the person who was pummeled unjustifiably while fighting not only theirs but yours?
Is it the old saying when you laugh the world laughs with you and when you cry you cry alone what should prevail?
Or is it the saying that when a person cries that is when they need you most and that is what determines who you really are?
Anyone could give because they know they're getting but isn't it the person who can give for the true act of giving that is truly REAL
One for a million, a million for one, either way when love is given without measure for itself that is what love is.  Not to say that we let people purposely hurt us while we love but to love someone even though others took a punch at them that is pure love. To go with the bandwagon of adversity would be weak.  What is the greatest feeling in the world but to be shown as the greatest truth when you took the blows of all those who didn't believe and you still fought through it.  Martin Luther King was imprisoned 22 times while he had every right violated and he was as right as right can be.  Isn't this why he is considered great?  Isn't it the battles against naysayers that show greatness?  I AM A CHAMPION and whether it's realized now or after I'm dead I know I'm a CHAMPION.  Yes, one for a million, or a million against one.  Right is right, truth is truth, love is love, real is real and whether there's a parade today or tomorrow there's a parade in my heart every day.

don't even know why I wanted
to shape this as a poem
perhaps because Poetry is
the only Love
that ever loved me back
it's all I've ever known
despair lays heavily on a heart
that beat for so many others
now it just beats for one
and even then I wish I could
just stop it, shock it into dying
it beats for no reason, each season
it tick tocks upon the rocks
of where it has been bashed
by another's unsupported anger
unjustifiably angry with no reason
but I don't ******* care anymore!
Used, abused and given little hope
that I made a difference in breathing
just a little same oxygen that you do
it's irrelevant that the eyes are unseeing
the heart is still beating
just don't ******* care!

Do you?

Your weapon cuts like a knife,
deep and sure, a piercing through the heart
I am your victim, a casualty  of words
they go flying, straight to my head
Mean and unjustifiably wrong
Now I wish myself dead

Can I cry into my pillow,
the emotions I have are great?
I just want to blow,
and be rid of the heaviness in my chest.
Days are filled with hatred,
each one wondering why.
The more I hear I want to ****,
**** the person wanting to wreck my life.

This is the end of you,
the more I see your face I want to destroy;
break **** and tear **** apart,
but I would rather take these hands of mine around your neck,
and choke the very breath out from your eyes.
You are the one setting the course,
creating a death sentence of your life.

is your dryer driving you mad,
dried up electric or gas?
are the walls melting all around you,
gooey with paper and damp in the mist?
has your garden been taken over by spiderwebs,
each one with a hopeful hungry orange
little being in the center, a thick closure
of soft sticky strands filling up those well planned paths?
have the flowers all fallen away, admitted defeat in august,
to be covered up by eternal mums or merely weeds?
Does the dust creep back into each corner
unjustifiably fast, so that all you can do is to watch with disgust?
Do the dishes grow heavier and more plentiful
with each passing meal?

Well, have I got a solution for you...

So cheap it's nearly free.

Just burn down your house,
wrap yourself up in rags,
and make your way to the temple.

Because I hear at the temple
they need someone to help clean.

if your humor fails you **** yourself
because they will tell you why you failed
in far too great crippling detail
enemies of play
goose stepping to a zany polka
entire regiments ready to die
for the Nut in the Nuthouse
in a deep cover psyops mole operation
****** with my head like candy from a baby
weather permitting we'll visit the ruins
ancestral whorehouses and wretched genes
but they chose him and the billiard ***** flew
he was known as the glider pilot artist
painted a series of blue canvasses
with a single line down the center
because the mystery is an airy one
held together by a paper clip chain
though we were unjustifiably scared
out of our muttering wits to look
oh dear I believe I've lost
my transparent all-seeing membrane
it was the limpid dawn of another millennium
and its less than daring innovations
by the Mercantilist Association of Research
did its work upon the landscape
and the picture was anti-ros
for Seduction Delightenment and Elongation
their devil women had an undulating beauty
and boy they could really dance
having 3 legs and the gaze of the converted
she snipped his cigar and they got smoochy
it was a Robusto and presently the lights came on
in the passive calm of logic he screamed
with the strength of the oft bamboozled
not so passive then
her tongue curled round the back of his teeth
artillery pounded the trenches all night long
she had always been too much for any man
her star sign was Capricornucopia
one of several million methods
for eating the hearts of strangers
Nature having its benefits and liabilities
as welcome as a volcano as usual
we play lotto on her occasional flowerings
flail at doom and leave spoor
and try to make tension beautiful
what other species is there
that apparently actually wants to die
life has a lot of puzzles
on your way to
the bonfire
in the sky

From "Pageant of Naked Mischief" available on Amazon

I am infatuated by the fact that I should be ignoring these feelings
but they are simply too strong to put aside

Even though I know it is hopelessly and unjustifiably wrong
I am so drawn to taking the risk
obviously I know I never would

Doesn’t make me feel like less of a ****
For considering it in the first place

Look at the ways--the despicable ways--
That Trump tried to achieve his coup
By pressuring officials in Georgia
With a repeated turn of the *****.

First, a ballot signature audit
In Cobb County. All was fine.
Next, he pressured Governor Kemp--
This time also crossing the line.

He wanted Kemp to do something
To which Kemp raised an objection--
To push for a legislative session
To change the results of Georgia's election.

That didn't work, and so Trump called
Georgia's secretary of state
To pressure him to do his bidding
In hopes that he'd step up to the plate.

He asked Raffensperger to "find"
Enough votes so that he could win.
Of course, Raffensperger declined.
To him, cheating would be a sin.

So then Trump asked the U.S. attorney
Of the state of Georgia to make false claims
Regarding election fraud, another
One of Trump's deceitful games.

That attempt also failed,
So Trump tried to weaponize
The DOJ to pressure Georgia
By sending a letter full of lies--

A letter written by Jeffrey Clark,
One of Trump's toadies and partners in crime.
Once again, Trump's efforts failed,
But people say it came close this time.

An election worker, Ruby Freeman,
Was the following target, for she
Was accused of election fraud--
Accused unjustifiably.

Both Freeman AND her daughter
Have been harassed and threatened as well.
Because they wouldn't support Trump's lie,
Their lives have become a living hell.

In January, Trump told his thugs
To march to the Capitol, and when
They did, utter chaos took place,
And we all know what happened then.

Georgia was merely one state among many.
But Trump even now continues to plot,
And even though his coup attempt failed,
The next time he tries, it might not.

-by Bob B (12-11-21)