Hear Ye, Hear Ye!

I have never been one to do things usual,
wet down and reusable
straight up delusional,
sometimes confusing all,
******* useable.

So juvenile.


Between you and me,
this girl is overly irreverent,
open book intelligent,
in need of saving reverend,
whose arrogant,
most relevant.
I'm typically benevolent.
It's evident I'm heaven sent,

REPENT!

I'm unsusceptible to rules,
except on days like April Fool's.
I'm orthodox, I kid,
you wish.
Unorthodox, reborn,Jewish

Foolish.


I have never been one to do things usual,
Chained up? Refuseable,
tied down and doable,
funked up and beautiful,
French words excusable,
the next line unsuitable.

A famous "Barry Hodges" poem!

I was strolling along the Normandy beaches
In the close vicinity of Caen one day
With a very tasty piece of arm-candy to hand
When I found a bleached human femur on the beach.
Oh dear me, what thoughts this conjured up in my brain
As I imagined whose bone it might have been!
Perhaps some pathetic soldier boy landing in forty-four
Who got slotted by a gallant German gunner,
His eyes feasting on the sacrificial cannon fodder
So foolishly supplied for his target practice.

Then, as I grabbed my lady friend's juicy ****,
Causing her to turn and sink her tongue into my earhole,
We sank onto the sands in order to sate our lusts,
(enflamed by a very delicious meal of *moules marinières
and a bucket or two of well-chilled Muscadet sur Lie)
I thought, what the **** does it all matter?
This is now, and that was then, and this old world
Has become a much nicer place nowadays;
But how mistaken I was in that fond thought;
Oh what an idealist I am in a world of woe.

For, all of a sudden, a contingent of fat dwarfs appeared,
Totally naked apart from their luminous Uncle Sam hats
And the Stars and Stripes hanging from their arseholes;
How I marvelled at their disgusting shapes
(and how surprised was I to find their genitals
were of normal measurements and thus
rather intrusively large by comparison
with the rest of their miniature bodies).
O dear Lord and alleged Father of Mankind
Forgive their horrid ways verily and forsooth.

With a whoop, those demented military retards, [see note below]
The famous 118th battalion ****** Marine veterans,
A contingent of whom emerged from a portable toilet
(which must have been a bit of a tight squeeze),
Chopped my girl-friend up with their bayonets,
Whereupon I crapped myself in terror and pity,
Before retrieving the purse from the eviscerated corpse,
Realizing that her PIN number was still useable
Until 'les flics' discovered her unfortunate remains
After the shore ***** had partaken thereof.

this girl dreamed of an open field where she could raise her family
where there's beautiful trees and a nice summer breeze
so she prays to God down on her knees
begging keeps on repeating it never forgets to mention please
out in the streets hustling its frustrating
because here lately baby girl is tired of waiting
her husband don't even know the games that shes playing
days goes bye while he's lonely in bed looking where she should be laying
staying up as the sun goes down
missing the smiles on her face now all you can see is her frown
as this man is tired of bodies being buried in the ground
so he stays inside just because he's afraid to walk around town
one night as he's sitting there wife comes home with the look of fear
he's already hit her and shes ready to disappear
but hes over it and just want to whisper in her ear
i love you but she hates him for all the **** she puts up with here
he knows its coming his mind starts running
he says  let me tell you something
he goes evil when his heart turns black
jumps in the car driving like he has got no hope
just wants to slit his throat drive his into the river like its a boat
while he don't look back
he has one last chance to stop by the most beautiful girl
he says look i know im useable girl
beggers cant be choose able girl
im about to hit this tree answer me girl
she says no im finally done
get out of the car your a shooting star but i need to run
so his eyes tear up as he smashes the gas
aiming for the tree hoping to **** his ***
but he gets out blood dripping hes trippin life slipping away
shes dipping while the paramedics are checking to see if hes okay
all he can say, is i love her please make her stay
but shes already in love thinking Ima leave this worthless ***** just where he lay
hes choked up
cant believe him and the love of his life just broke up today

laying in the hospital bed thinking she'll show up instead
after all the blood he shed to prove he was ready to just be dead
but she had to go see someone else to hold her
just to **** with his mind and seem a little colder
but hes getting older thinking **** it i gave everything i possibly show her
but hes the bad guy to bad there's two stories
to bad he's so high so sad that he has to try not to worry

Into the water she strode, wide eyed as ripples echoed her steps,
Hart beating, eyes streaming she leapt into the arms of an useable love

Arms stretched out far to catch her, protect her with care and calm composure he swept her up at earths surrender
into the arms she’d always loved

Into the depth the lovers fell. Forgetting all rules a wise man once told them, they fell into the deep subsiding water with the ones they’d always loved.

Engulfed not one but two became inseparable in the lovers game, judgment blurred and eyes to see not anyone but this entity, entrapped and falling helplessly into the depth of pure insanity yet happily falling free into the arms of her love.

They Don’t look back or up or forth for taken breath cant be caught, again they fall helplessly her with him and him with she and soon to be submerged in water hart beats harder as time grows faster, they lose track time and in the darkness, the blurs grow darker, sharper, faster and in there minds the lovers laugher, suppress the dangers of deeper water

And so they sink so helplessly into loves addiction, unconsciously, falling through the entangled weeds of the darkest love named insanity.

Weaker the lovers became as harts grow heavy and thoughts grew thick, is this a pure, captured splendour or a disaster occurring through the wick, burning fast through the tether as the lovers get hopelessly lost together in the mist inside there minds forever falling hopelessly free.

i don't want to talk about it to
the people who want to know.
i want to talk about it to
the people who don't have to know,
but don't mind anyway.

i want to tell you, actually.

about when i was too lonely
to know what i was doing.
when my no was not firm enough,
was not said often enough.
so they played me,
and i don't blame them.
i was so vulnerable.
so easy to take advantage of.
why not?
i was disposable, useable only for a moment of pleasure.
and it really hurt,
but i just sat there.
and took it.

and now look at me-
fighting flashbacks when a classmate makes a joke about the four letter R word.
crying for no reason.

Environmental advice
from a re-purposed hag:
Stop driving cars.
Use a re-useable bag.
Cook dinner at home.
Adopt children, not pets.
Don't use plastic cups.
Don't eat tuna caught with nets.
Don't toss out food--
it becomes methane gas.
Stop shopping for clothes;
give consumerism a pass.
Wear natural fabrics.
Turn off extra lights.
Use solar cells.
Live the days and sleep the nights.

McCartney got by with a little help from his friends
I got by with a little help from my little friends
like a broken toothpick
that's come in handy
like for example getting the McDonald's
hamburger meat out
from between my High German
spaced out teeth
or a bent one last cigarette
in a semi-wadded used up soft-pack
of Camel regulars
or that kind of retractor that fir
inside of 45 records
to play an inspirational
song like I Want
You Back by the
Jackson Five was
at the time when I
couldn't find a
friend myself.
McCartney was lucky
with friends.
I had friends too, sure
but I don't think they
know I was down and out
and living on a retiree pay
of $180 a month
and practically supporting 8 black guy
"buddies"
at the same time.
But there always was
a "friend indeed for a friend in need"
so I survived intact
and yes
am still intact

she's shades of brown
mud near the lake
festering with geese
a scanner that will never scan ever again
a caffenated beverage
she's the wind that makes the doors shake
in the apartment at night
and you swore it was the way
she moved
and you swore it was your psychosis returning
**** not again
she's the grating sound of the indentured laborers doing their thing
at 7 am
she's the smell of your hands before and after you wash them repeatedly and needlessly
she lives in the paper that curls when burned
and in the skin too
she smells like cat litter
and ozone
and she tastes like 9 volt batteries
that may or may not be useable.

Self containing vessles, not a few,
were gathered to be filled from one
small cruse of golden oil, pure as time.

Invitations echo, "Come ye, buy from me,
without money, without cost." Freedom from

cultural constraints, traditional right privileges,
customary tribute due the mightiest military mind.
----------------------------

Whistling editor of all of us,
in these and other words,
insert myself among
those entering the container
nearest you, be the self most honed.

--------- art's sakes alive,
no jive cat act, you know, this takes all day.

Sinking hope weights our bait,
dropping down to Cod level,
deeper than
our cultural bouyancy, sinking

through time climbing down
an actual ladder that was, that is
rusted to uselessness now, you see,

you fell, I climbed. Missed concepts
can take your breath away.
Sudden wisdom is not cheap thrills.
Same gravity, same air, same words.

We may imagine we form another mind,
we, you and me, combined, a new mind,
we, in an awesome state of knowing access.

Holy days, sanctified by family traditions,
expanding in the age of printing machines,
exploding in the age
of mass media via
psuedo infinite compute.

Science used to fool the foolable, magicians
all agree to be discrete, the enter-dance
is keyed to the most discerning
exercise of image forming,
will you, won't you,
join the dance
thinking seeing is the act of acceptence,
not thinking taking the act in conception.

He does not steal from me, who lights
his smoke from mine.

I arrive late. It is my way. I do use vegetables.
Excuses and excauses, we have in abundance.
When killing the opposition was first response,
we passed through a hisseephit pfft phaze.

The first thing. The Principal Thing. Peace
upon the figurative brow of the frustrated one thing.

The terror of ever being one thing and no thing more;
God's own dread, we may imagine, feels like ours,
boredom becomes insanity and insanity is mortal hell.

Wisdom, offered in doses from ancient runes,
discerned from evil uses of knowledge, actual useable
Wisdom is first sensed peaceable, then gentle, not wild
skittish, gotta be tamed and mastered to be used, no,no, no

First peaceable, no push toward your opposite bias,
no feeling of imbalence down in you guts,
no angry creator jealous of the tempting knowledge.
Forest copious abundance, with know how.
Use of good,
and useless destruction of ancient good sense.
Who lies about you.
Personally, what living hate do you appropriate?

The idea that Christ, that word, holds a preconceived
story hook to a promise, an other word, progressively
pulling the thread through gnosis knots too tight to comb,
so we twist dreads into fashionable cool.

Truth in numbers is easier than truth
in otherwords aligned,

listening to everything, once, in a while.

Understand, when we conserve a westate, you and me,
we are the medium we exist to conceptualize in, within.

When the best combined minds in Mathematics
do agree, rarely, but when that instance of truth,
pops
backed by the Universe in which we live,
and, truly astoundingly, do breathe and have being,
ex nihilo as far as we may know right,
now
we as a whole, the species adapted to the times
we were born to mature through, to this end.



OK, in that curious bubble…
dear reader, this novel event is recorded,
to flashback in the future you need directed

steps, ah, nexts, in time, is one way,
memory is all over the place, but next
is always toward the not known yet.
---------------
Found a four meter San Pedro,
on Craig's list, free, some may say

it is a sign, some message to a shaman
of the original dreamtime rerouted to now.

Some how we affect world peace, taking parts
less likely to effect fame and fortune, fool's roles
local poet
and studio talent anonymity,
aficionados only, olé.

A story genisisatates, blooming possibilities unimagined,
yet, apparently blooming in my neuronic memory,

Barrio Logan, boom, there it is, the real deal

achuma wachuma, calling my curiosity, come see.

You have heard the adage, "what you see Is what you get."

What you believe you get, you get, once you see you got it.

This life, our combined realities, as bubbles in the human foam,
rising on the surface of Earth's dry places… the we we form

can be led to lieve being true, stranger things than oath chains
that turn to torqs and eventually to full Windsor knotted ties.

The collar of the loyal oppostion, turns fashionable,
included in the mindset finding fashion cycles
common since the distinction was made.

Many long times and wars and running aways ago,
we learn to be us, the holders of these truths from them
who begot us in this land.

-----------
Nah, Eve, she was not the culprit, truth be told.

Have a little talk with your Jesus, there in your core,
if you have formed a concept you hold true, Christmas
Peace on Earth, good will toward mankind, good news,
causal inferential essential entity, in a word, a little leaven.

leaving is relative.
"you"is just a view of an elephant
up close.
melt a bit,
then tell the splitting
elegance you'll help it
blend back into the hues
you've given different
pet names to.

headspace.
moon.
deadweight.
truth.
a ruse?
a route?
a mutiny?
a few ravens loot putrification
of any useable patience
in the pay-to-play waiting game.

get over it
or get some beauty sleep.

This heart will last me a lifetime
If only because when it fails,
I fail,
But this heart, barely half way through its span is already much damaged,
For whilst the attack that did not claim me
Left no visible disease
The slings and arrows of emotional assaults, betrayal
And cunning, low and savage attack
Have left an invisible mark,

Every selfish unwarranted ******
Leaves a hole which heals slowly,
Oozing my life's essence all the while
Until the damage is patched by a layer of hard scabrous tissue,
A crude patch to mend a hole
Yet limiting the function once there found,
A tiny or not so small area which is not quite the same
And cannot fully carry its load any more,
A small damaged piece of me,
That fails

One such part? Hardly worth the notice and
Already as always forgiven,
But it is not just the one small part is it?
It's a fine network of such holes with the occasional larger ****
Where the stab was sawn and worked and
Widened with savage glee
Yet still healed or healing and still already
And as always forgiven                                                         ­                         
But the whole of me that part not stiffened and dead
Is smaller now

That shrinkage is not visible to the outside world
Nor will it be yet the shrinkage of useable
Worthwhile working tissue
Leads only one way and at this ever increasing rate
Of damage the end is coming close,
But who cares?
Well no one it appears
Because the attacks and the wounds are neither slower
Nor stopped,
So soon instead it seems
I will,
My heart will


Stop
Stopped

Beyond our milky way whats there.

Black is the summary, of all space it's tinted with the sun.

So how is there black.

Black is said to be pure creation, right so as birds and planes are full of flight.

We are here spining on a tilted axis.

And have yet to discover the all of its being.

If a simulation, is pure and high grade depition.

Reason of war, our experience is surprisingly devoted to evolution.

If doors didn't have henge would they be so useable.

Some what confusional I know this is.

With schedule being made and projections of completion becoming done.

We all are organized and fit to handle any task.

Achive we strive to ring the bell at the highest climb.

If all was made and designed what's the fun in the vines.

Optical illusion, the eye's can not figure out.

Why is five colors in different contrast make the eye see shapes.

Oh now two, dimensional objects weave threw space huge compared to 3d.

See in space out of gravity and radiation belts.

Sizes of objects get super sized.

There is no time, no limits no occupation.

In space of all concepts.

There was no choice except to lie about the drug use though everyone in town knew the truth. He was a heavy cranker, a tweaker and tried to keep it secret then the inevitable came, long under drug-induced strain, its parts wearing out, his heart started failing.

He had done the drug for a long time and did a good job of hiding it from most of the people in town until his best friend revealed his habit to a person close to him.

At first, he tried to explain it away by telling everyone it was a disorder ran in his family but those that did the white powder lines with him just laughed. They knew why he was having problems with his heart and soon they would be too. But the damage was done and there were no stories or excuses he could use to cover his operations and hospital stays anymore and soon the whole town knew what he was. He kept the instances of violence against women and other small crimes under the covers by snitching to the police when he had a little useable information and they, in turn, cut him a little slack for his efforts.

But everything had changed. He became thin, gaunt and black blue circles appeared underneath his eyes, his hair fell out and he became an old man what seemed like overnight. Afraid, and rightly so, he wondered if this was the price he paid for his treacherous behavior. For the lies, he told her, the promises he broke and the damage he inflicted because of his greed. For the lives, he had destroyed from his past.

He could not shake these perceptions that tortured him night and day sitting in the back of his brain like a tightening knot that refused to be expelled. It weighed heavy on his heart and more so in his mind until his thoughts turned inward and outward and twisted like snakes. He remembered the last words she spoke; the crying and chills ran through his body, he began to violently tremble and his breathing quickened with the memory of her.

Then it began, in earnest, the nightmares, the echoes of crying, and cold gales of the wind that carried words he had once spoken in pledge. He began to cringe in fear at shadows that he was convinced were lurking and lying in wait for him around each and every corner and the whimpering that came from thin air. that no one else could hear. Paranoia was consuming him and there was no controlling it. The last piece in the puzzle of his destiny had come at last to rest in its final tomb.

He could tell no one of the thoughts that consumed him like cancer lest he revealed the monster that he was. and what he had done. So, his fears festered like a rotting wound that would never heal, putrid and decaying, distrustful and suspicious of all he encountered. Counting the beats of his pulse in his wrists wondering if they would slow and stop day after day until in the end he sometimes wished and yearned for death.

There would be no escape this time or reprieve from his actions and it was not hatred that doomed him but love. Steady as the winds in the sky, the flowing waters of the earth, and even the stars that dwell throughout the universe. The emotion that was stronger some say than the face of death itself.

When the fates deemed, he had suffered enough, the bowels of the earth opened before him and they came. But they had no pity for him and it would not be the sounds of angel wings that greeted his soul. But the moans and shrieks of dark spirits from the underworld, and the smell of sulfur.

It would be her voice he heard laughing, as they took him, her small face he saw smiling until she turned and walked away slowly becoming a blurred vision. His eyes dimmed, he cried the name of the one he had wronged and he strained once more to see her before breathing his last. It was her love that had bewitched him and love that took his life.

My attempt at writing a ghost story
All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M.Darby Oct.31, 2019
All Material Stored in Author Base.

As I am cleaning up my apartment
I am getting rid of the filth of the past making way of the clean of the future
With each broom stroke
I get calmer and calmer as i sweep


As I am cleaning up my apartment
I am finding secrets of the pass both good and bad
Under my bed as I go under with the vacuum
I wonder how long that crap was festering there for

As I’m cleaning up my apartment
I decided
To take out the toxic trash as I look at it
With is glaring eyes I do so

As I am cleaning up my apartment
I am recycling good things
There still useable for people in poor countries
Help them out
with a smile on my face

Like a storm that you can't predict
Nature of the trick
So unusual
No longer useable
In the remnants of reality
Use it wisely, just like all things
A weapon or a solution?
Up to what your consciousness dictates.