"unregulated" poems
Ultra Violet magnetic field of high voltage adrenaline showers the streets like speeding sports cars.
It's a rare occurrence of unregulated foreign madness.
I felt my inner chambers open and through them I explored my city in a new fashion.
Pulsating skies and electronica vibes.
Golden halos fall all around and the people, all friendly faces, liberated from their steel rooms.
I can hear the cries in the air.
A step closer, a heart willing to beat louder. A flower courageous enough to grow within the industrial tombs of the living dead. A divine light is what is lighting their way out of miserable decay.
- C.Ek
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 8:17 PM UTC
unregulated pigmentation causes race wars
on the streets of a melting ***
the strain of freedom ideologies are too great
for the masses to uphold
children taught hate and bigotry sit in pews
praying to the god of war
the same god that spawned jesus and a burning bush
daughters looked upon as procreation tools
seek to be both fertile and babrie-like
but child-bearing hips are too wide for Cosmo
and skinny ******* only think of themselves
this is the current world
needing babies, but afraid to wear stretch-marks
needing children, teaching toddlers to ****
through video game indoctrination
and mass media persuasion
I sit alone on martin’s mountain
wishing the world knew about skin color as manipulation
sexism and mind control
fluoride and unfiltered water
like hammers and axes to those who would dominate us all
tools of a trade
trading lives
on the new world stock exchange
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
Tumbler in hand,
Without a stem,
Wine slowly warmed in your palm
The carboxyl-laden liquid gold
Daily medicine,
You prescribe yourself
And send your loving wife to pick up
From a clanking pharmacy
Returns
In lilac paper
A present you unwrap
For yourself.
A beauty,
More so than her
Or the daughter you both raised
You cradled your glass instead of her,
Sick, balding, bloated.
In the bathroom
Crying against the locked door
As you shout
To control, stop now
Her unregulated rate of mitosis
That was done in spite against you.
It’s her fault
That you cant fix it.
Unlike a mitral,
You cannot sow, stitch, or glue her in place,
She won’t stay where you put her,
But like this valve -
A pig.
She remembers nights you don’t,
Her memories your hangover
That you’ve grown resistant to
Like a bacteria.
The MRSA of our family,
Washing our hands of you,
Sterilised with alcohol.
Jun 15, 2011
Jun 15, 2011 at 9:56 AM UTC
trunks filled with junk and the crunk juice flows
flunked out pill popping junkies with no cash go
drunkenly to the shrunken head show
knowing they stunk.
The monks dunked funky mumps victims
on bunk beds and licked them
instead of fixing lunk-headed situations
with linkin-log technologic advances
drinking dogs retrofitted with dance moves
groove on the wooden floor while ****** bore
the Moors with tales of divorce and random ***********
on all fours in doorways
during bad plays on the interstate…
demonstrators, unregulated, on roller skates
wait at the gates of the ingrates filled with hate
and throw pie plates with fated accuracy
and the belated bureaucratic picnic
nitwits in knickers knuckle bump
and plump debutants snicker
the wicker croquet mallets
perform ballet in the chalet
and I have to valet the cars –
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 5:35 PM UTC
In Ireland we had built a truly independent nation,
standing proud after years of strife and deprivation
But we yearned to join Europe, enticed by her charms,
and she was happy to welcome us, with open arms
Once we used to have pounds, shillings and pence,
when we joined Europe we adopted euros and cents,
We bought in to a single European currency,
and got loads of money, for everything a subsidy
Yes Europe proved to be extraordinarily generous,
the goose that kept laying golden eggs for us
Our government went mental with the money Europe kept sending,
it appeared this generosity was never ending
And our banks joined in with unprecedented lending,
we the people were happy, ah the money we were spending
We threw caution to the wind, it was pure insanity,
we paid ridiculous prices for even the smallest property
Mortgages and loans were given out like sweets,
credit cards with no limit for those occasional treats
Yes the borrowing and spending went on unabated,
sure why wouldn’t it, it was completely unregulated.
There was so much money, loans were so easy to get,
each one of us accumulated a serious amount of debt
Most of us were living way beyond our means,
had we sold our souls for a handful of beans?
Such was our success, other nations did applaud,
we bought new houses and cars and apartments abroad
Credit cards and loans bought so much other stuff,
one could be forgiven for thinking we could never have enough
We changed as a people, became quite materialistic,
we wanted so many things that were beyond realistic
we forgot what was important, which was really quite sad,
judging each other it seemed now by how much each had
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 9:26 AM UTC
*dreams in colors that don't exist,
and 'mares re dear sir, deadlines missed,
wrestle~arrest poet,
instant awake
in the wee time,
pouring liquidity,
fluids and words,
puddling, stinking,
coming,
from the
always dangerous,
always interesting temple inner inside,
sanctimonious no more sanctum*
this particular sleep,
shortened, irretrievable,
bookmarked "closed,"
chapters,
hours too soon,
this rest business,
arrested
filed in an ugly
grey metal file cabinet,
in an unfinished manila prison
with your other unimportant poems
*the dark room universe
populated by
hints, shadows, voices,
waiting, welcoming,
mirrors on the walls
unified in one voice
deep, obtuse,
demanding recognition
"hither hither come"*
forced march
to a visitation,
to the the parition,
of your reflection,
clearest ever seen,
in the black pitch,
uncovered by guise, feathers
the clothes of normative pretenses,
the man-made borderlines of
preservation falsehoods
*seen your own semblance,
parts rearranged,
uncanny,
the mirrors are screaming:
shameful lovely,
this, our artistry,
your apparition,
now accurate,
reflecting your under-
lying
condition,
at last,
an accurate portrayal,
of your inaccuracies*
do you find yourself attractive?
this new balance,
the unregulated pieces
of you
before your dissembling,
discerning,
dissecting eyes?
*feeling the valence,
an introduction,
a physical magnetism
any attraction
any resemblance
to the semblance
that writes
this s.o.s.?*
answer us thus,
do you up
and like yourself
unvarnished,
grunge, swag,
truth trammeled,
don't you want to kiss yourself
goodbye,
or better yet,
fare thee hell?
*go ahead,
ask yourself now,
that one question
that prevents conception,
from your inception,
what is it that
makes you exceptional?*
don't you realize,
everything about you
ends in a question mark?
*how dare you write poetry?
you are the false poet,
you live on the division
tween artifice and self-deception,
this, your only precept,
and now that you are
clarified,
answer this,
knowing you know
nothing
but artifice,*
how dare you write poetry?
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 5:07 AM UTC
I sit here again
with a beer and a cigarette
communing with a lost soul
my own?
someone else's?
I read scripture and the
words dance around me
a thousand flights of fancy
on the page
my incense burning
this pure incense burning
this pure understanding
of the cruel nature
of humanity
of friends, heroes, lovers
I write it all down
try to solve it
it stands before me
a picture of my steps
to this point
I have reached the point
of unabashed unregulated
distorted reality
my daily life
the breathing
the eating
the sleeping
it doesn't seem any more real
than this life I live
in my head
or somewhere in my heart
and I long to touch the
part of me that is real
but I am so disconnected
flowers in the winter still grow towards the sun
and such is my soul
leaning leaning
toward the everlasting source
reality fails me
and lights go dim
and I cause the moon to glow for a light
somewhere in this dark night
and I can't stop believing in a God that doesn't exist
but which pushes further down this tunnel into the hell
of my eternity
and I can't
find simplicity
can't find purity
it's all convoluted
I hate the game
shifting pulling
begging for release
and somehow I am
an ember in a fire
bent on burning out
forever
and I have a soul
I have a heart
someone acknowledge me in this newspaper grey world
I am flat lining
where will I go after
this life has sloughed off my skin
I know I am endless
and I am bound for a world
where opinion doesn't taint reason
and somehow
I will be there
where the sky meets space
I will be there
somehow.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 7:20 AM UTC
This current state of being,
A byproduct of my upbringing,
To a shred of sanity I'm clinging.
I'm condemned, I am ******
It's not like this was planned.
Those pesky chemicals are a torrential rain,
Carried 'round by cerebrospinal fluid in the brain,
Are unbalanced, unregulated. I am agitated.
Emotions now unchained.
The feelings I suppressed
Now a hysterical, pathetic, crying mess
This silent monster is cunning and bold
Has defiantly stepped over my mental threshold
The more I try to ignore
The more intense the outpour
The heart drops into the stomach,
Unpleasant pulsating in my ear canal
I tremble uncontrollably
I obsess over thoughts until they nauseate me
Down a rabbit hole I'm going
Due to insufficient dopamine and serotonin
The ideas of inadequacy and failure are growing
As logical a girl I am
To these irrational thoughts I am ******
I attempt to talk myself out of it
But my reasoning just won't fit
No matter how hard I try
I cannot find a reason why...
At this point my heart is racing
From the epinephrine rush, I am pacing
Back and forth across the floor
In and out the bedroom door
You have no idea how happy I'd be
To have a life of "normalcy"
No matter how much I plead and plead
This quiet monster won't take its leave
At my wit's end, my sanity's gone,
I'm all out of my Buproprion.
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 2:56 PM UTC
When the economy tanks
Unregulated globalized free market capitalism run amuck
People are told to be thankful to have a job
Even if you are miserable with that job
And with service sector jobs making up 80% of employment
Misery is widespread
Underpaid, undervalued, underappreciated
We are human beings for ***** sake
We are starved for more than selling shoes
If being thankful for misery is the best option
It's time to re-evaluate
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 12:58 PM UTC
one minute the written piece
will be so nicely posted
then in the very next minute
it will be quickly unposted
an indecisive mind works
on the submission page
switching the on and off switch
with an unregulated gauge
numerous times
this pattern
has occurred to confuse
numerous times
this pattern
frequently does get a use
before offering
any pieces for posting
the submitter needs
to be sure of the hosting
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC
Boy, oh boy
Will boys be boys
And oh boy, that’s gross to say,
I at least get that,
I mean I try to but here’s to trying
Kind of like trying to speak for women
Or anyone that isn’t you,
you should just not do that…
There’s a difference in defense for the good of all
And then, there’s what we were talking about 50 ******* years ago
Oh, excuse me 30 ******* years ago,
Last ******* year…
2 ******* days ago…
OK RIGHT THE **** NOW…
But I really want to go back to 69
Oh, The Summer of love…
Or the summer of forcing a woman to go to court over the ability to receive an abortion only to be decided by a group of old men if she has any rights over her body to receive a safe medical procedure, all while the media doing no one any favors guiding a blind division nationally between people and God fearing busy bodies, calling her names and questioning her character as a responsible person, in a not very god-fearing tone, all while forcing Ms. McCorvey again, to get burned more for prolonging an unwanted pregnancy due to waiting on a decision that is determined in court by that aforementioned group of men, which is like the sportsman’s equivalent of just killing the clock to win a game but it isn’t a ******* game it’s a woman’s body, which clearly they didn’t care anything about just as long as they get that **** baby in the next 6 months or so, but as stated above it is indeed unwanted, so really who is going to take care of the ******* baby because we know how much people just love adopting ******* children?
Let’s ask 25 republicans!
But some people talk of 69 differently,
Some remember the Beatles.
Some recall Charles Manson.
Kind of like today
Some say we are putting god back in our government
And The rest of us in 1972 to 2019 are wondering who the **** invited god?
I never knew God and every white person’s, “one uncle” has the same opinion.
Amazing!
But Uncle Alabama shouldn’t speak for God.
Wait until he finds out she’s a woman.
That’d be a kick to the unregulated nuts we can just spew anywhere, like a natural ******* disaster.
That’s what the name of this ******* poem should be,
but it’s not.
Sincere, ********
That’s what I call this one,
That’s what I call the last 2 and half years too.
And this poem.
And telling women what to do with their bodies.
Some people would think differently.
But I don’t think some people think.
May 15, 2019
May 15, 2019 at 4:44 PM UTC
thanklessly the bankers
of Wall Street
meet in discrete fields
just outside of Tupelo
plotting to further victimize
the middle of America
through interest rate hikes
and trickle down economic theory
clearly they only have our interests
in heart…
corporate hedge funds
send tons of
industrial sludge
to ponds near elementary schools
where the rules are
pick up your messes
I guess they skipped that day of class…
rash covered babies
with minimal lung function
sit at the crossroads
or junction
of a nation in transition
the plight of the people is lost
on the wealthy unregulated
impoverished men sit
waiting for a V.A. date
and the medication necessary
to combat PTSD and hold down a job
loggers with broken backs attack
environmentalists
for risking their lives to save
species…the flora and fauna
but the powers that be don’t wanna…
the United States needs a comma –
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 5:17 PM UTC
It's the unbridled excitement
Joy washing over a little mind, a tiny soul
Fast heart, catching words, losing breath
It's the enthusiasm of listening
Attention held for the sake of being enraptured
Wide eyes, fidgeting hands, innocent eyes
It's the space to try and fail and learning to try again
Steadfast calm; room for mistakes into lessons
Furrowed brow, gentle touch, try again
It's the unregulated volume, big laughs and frivolity
Comfort, ease, natural to take up space together
Clenched stomachs, teary eyes, Relaxed
It was "sit down, be quiet, not right now"
Dismissal of a moment but shattering worth and desire
Tight throat, quivering lip, silent steps
It was "no back talk, always sarcastic, never disrespect"
Enraged pores incite fear into obedience
Neutral stare, shutting down, have no thoughts
It was constant fear, coded footsteps and hypervigilance
Always listening in an attempt to be prepared
Tense muscles, quick movements, don't make a sound
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 9:46 AM UTC
anyone and everyone
who is a True Human Being
is said to be a CULT MEMBER
//
to cherish LOVE
and to speak of the sacredness of human feelings
about other human beings
Is called
TAKING THE CHILDREN FROM
TRUE AMERICAN VALUES
//
To speak of
DYING TO KEEP AMERICA FREE
is proper
TO ACTUALLY LIVE FREELY
is evil degenerate communism
( unless / of course / by
FREEDOM
you mean
Unregulated financial markets
••
To read the bible and proclaim
BELIEF
is the highest you are allowed to go
//
to actually EXPERIENCE god is taboo
And is in fact considered a
SOCIAL CRIME
and is the bedrock of CULT activity
••
In this environment
Where does the concept of
PHYSICAL LOVE
fit in ?
//////
Well
It seems that if we keep it
Between
OURSELVES AND OUR CHOSEN LOVER
it is glorified and accepted
especially if it leads to the inevitable
BREAK UP
to the inevitable
BROKEN HEARTS !
and the weakened and even lost
SPIRITUAL POWER
that has decimated our entire generation
It is fine with the Authorities
///
But if it is seen
as a SOCIAL PHENOMENON
a communally shared exaltation of the PEOPLE
of FAMILY
of BIRTH
of OUR COMMON FUTURE AND DESTINY
then it is called
A RETURN TO CULT-HIPPIE DAYS
//
In other words
HAPPINESS IS STRENGTH
and so the political powers want to discourage it
And distort what it really is
In order to keep us WEAK
//
Once we acknowledge this
We see the choices we have
And thus we can be REAL
and HAPPY
and TRULY SATISFIED
and TRULY FREE
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 10:52 PM UTC
like dharma. like thrown lead.ransomed .like a hostess with a gun to her head stone. carving metal casting dry mouth hair ropeand as you. shrank
backwards into the sea.to taste the salt that i become. head around bone thumb entire histories of shoetiers into the innocent briars.like the hairs- scrubmust mosslust.under your fingers.each breath shoveled on
like.every single unregulated prayerdamaging us all. though i stabbed
away greedily- verily, we could come back home, waiting for the
crash
that never comes.thrushly.tearing awaythe sick branches . tumbling down the
stairs unrequited
and
convulsing.
if i'm the most interesting thing, than we have a problem.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 5:13 PM UTC
REVOLVING REPAIR
First breath awaking in darkness, silence then given quickly to a rush, whisked into heat and noise
steady, holding back clinks,pings ,rings warming into soft flashes almost melancholic if it were bottled as beauty
Flush with the freshness of a moment so instant, smells broke into color segments seen as slides, a long lifetime voice
Harboring back before seeking outward motion ,yet relaxing with angst, not realizing to soon become one again acutely
Broke out of that beginning ,steadily come out of unrest can now become the hardest test
Wanting to lay back in that happy although confusing matrimony of several souls ,placidity quickly becoming memory
Tension tucked under a softer note until it vibrates into the moment ,helping the noise grow it is yours to divest
Having to come up and face the pain is now not your decision to restrain ,it WILL be now ,unregulated even scary
Processed at a baseline level, the neutral of what is next is almost impossible to place into text
Begging to stay back but intentionally standing up ,dusting ,cleansing,rinsing, allows much more freedom to our soul
Broke out to scale a new life ladder ,will it hold the weight of our future fate as we gain new ground anxiously without proper rest
Standing now are we ready for the approaching head wave ,inner trust is a positive must when seeking new ground is our role
MADE IT! only a moment we gained a bit ,realizing the true life drama of flesh and bones is not some elusive parallel
Stretching out, making movements as a process of testing ,finding levels and degrees of burn or recall
Fast forgotten ,moved along rode out up and over more obstacles ,a course without remorse a blinding spinning carousel
Fast but with resolution ,more as another marker to gauge all oncoming events ,rising to the next level with new wisdom to enthrall.R.C.
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 6:57 AM UTC
I sit here again
with a beer and a cigarette
communing with a lost soul
my own?
someone else's?
I read scripture and the
words dance around me
a thousand flights of fancy
on the page
my incense burning
this pure incense burning
this pure understanding
of the cruel nature
of humanity
of friends, heroes, lovers
I write it all down
try to solve it
it stands before me
a picture of my steps
to this point
I have reached the point
of unabashed unregulated
distorted reality
my daily life
the breathing
the eating
the sleeping
it doesn't seem any more real
than this life I live
in my head
or somewhere in my heart
and I long to touch the
part of me that is real
but I am so disconnected
flowers in the winter still grow towards the sun
and such is my soul
leaning leaning
toward the everlasting source
reality fails me
and lights go dim
and I cause the moon to glow for a light
somewhere in this dark night
and I can't stop believing in a God that doesn't exist
but which pushes further down this tunnel into the hell
of my eternity
and I can't
find simplicity
can't find purity
it's all convoluted
I hate the game
shifting pulling
begging for release
and somehow I am
an ember in a fire
bent on burning out
forever
and I have a soul
I have a heart
someone acknowledge me in this newspaper grey world
I am flat lining
where will I go after
this life has sloughed off my skin
I know I am endless
and I am bound for a world
where opinion doesn't taint reason
and somehow
I will be there
where the sky meets space
I will be there
somehow.
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 5:27 PM UTC