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2 Mother's Days
Came & went away
2 Mother's Days
I cried the day away

© From A Mother's 💔
5/12/20

Stress is a b*tch
It steals your joy
It makes u itch

© From A Poet's ♥️
5/11/20


Co-vid
Inspired by Jolene by Dolly Parton

Co-vid! Co-vid!
Co-vid! Co-vid!
We're beggin' of you please don't take our health!
Co-vid! Co-vid!
Co-vid! Co-vid!
We're beggin' of you please don't take our wealth!

Your symptoms come n a disguise
The media spreading all your lies
W/ scare tactics & fear mongering
Your gift to us makes us all cuss
We can't b who we were once
And we cannot compete with u
Co-vid

We dream about u n nightmares
U r on the news, u're everywhere
There's no escaping u @ all
Co-vid

But we can't easily understand
How you can take women & men
But u don't know what they mean 2 us
Co-vid

Co-vid! Co-vid!
Co-vid! Co-vid!
We're beggin' of you please don't take our health!
Co-vid! Co-vid!
Co-vid! Co-vid!
We're beggin' of you please don't take our wealth!

U could have your choice of homes
But we can't just go out & roam
Home's the only place 4 us
Co-vid

I had to write this song to u
Our very lives depend on u
And whatever u sent our way next
Co-vid

Co-vid! Co-vid!
Co-vid! Co-vid!
We're beggin' of you please don't take our health!
Co-vid! Co-vid!
Co-vid! Co-vid!
We're beggin' of you please don't take our wealth!

Co-vid! Co-vid!

© From A Quarantined Poet's ♥️
4/19/20

Covid-19
U r obscene
We once were free
But we couldn't see

U stole that
From us
Til we
Wanna cuss

We can't see
Our fam
And u don't
Give a ****

We can't see
Our friends
Will this
Pandemic end?

Some can't go
To work
U're just a
Big ****

Kids can't
Go to school
Now parents
Have to enforce rules

© From A Quarantined Poet's ♥️
4/8/20

Quarantine
Day 33!
***!
Woe is me!

Quarantine
Day 33!
Who r u &
Who is she?

Quarantine
Day 33!
Washing hands
To meet demands

Quarantine
Day 33!
Only go to work
Don't get perks

Quarantine
Day 33
I work full-time
But not he

Quarantine
Day 33
Shopping carts
6 feet apart

6 feet apart
And no hugs
6 feet apart
Don't share cootie bugs

© From A Working Quarantined Poet's ♥️
4/11/20

N response to another poet's poem

We too are essential
And get paid small
For the work we do
For travelers and all

To find place of rest
At our hotel
We're practically the only ones open
As u can tell

I'm also a caregiver
Keeping people healthy
Although with covid-19
Not many r wealthy

We're all n this 2gether
All over the world
Hopefully future changes come
Soon to the weather

Don't matter the color of skin
Black, white or brown
We're all stuck in
All over every town

© From A Poet's ♥️
4/11/20

The 12 Months Of Lockdown

On the first month of lockdown all over my small town,
Jobs laid off, people stayed home!

On the second month of lockdown all over my small town,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people stayed home!

On the third month of lockdown all over my small town,
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people stayed home!

On the fourth month of lockdown all over my small town,
Video chats
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people stayed home!

On the fifth month of lockdown all over my small town,
Homeschooling!
Video chats
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people got sent home!

On the sixth month of lockdown all over my small town,
Honey-do projects!
Homeschooling!
Video chats
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people got sent home!

On the seventh month of lockdown all over my small town,
Toilet paper hoarding!
Honey-do projects!
Homeschooling!
Video chats
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people got sent home!

On the eighth month of lockdown all over my small town,
Pay your bills online!
Toilet paper hoarding!
Honey-do projects!
Homeschooling!
Video chats
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people got sent home!

On the ninth month of lockdown all over my small town,
People went crazy!
Pay your bills online!
Toilet paper hoarding!
Honey-do projects!
Homeschooling!
Video chats
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people got sent home!

On the 10th month of lockdown all over my small town,
Hosting watch parties!
People went crazy!
Pay your bills online!
Toilet paper hoarding!
Honey-do projects!
Homeschooling!
Video chats
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people got sent home!

On the 11th month of lockdown all over my small town,
Virtual church attendance
Hosting watch parties!
People went crazy!
Pay your bills online!
Toilet paper hoarding!
Honey-do projects!
Homeschooling!
Video chats
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people got sent home!

On the 12th month of lockdown all over my small town,
Wear face masks & gloves
Virtual church attendance
Hosting watch parties!
People went crazy!
Pay your bills online!
Toilet paper hoarding!
Honey-do projects!
Homeschooling!
Video chats
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people got sent home!

© From A Quarantined Poet's ♥️
4/11/20

We're 'spose 2 b locked down
But it don't look like it
But all over my town
Ppl r pitching fits

They cannot go c
Their own family
They cannot go do
What they intended to

They r stuck inside
W/ family they hate
W/ rules 2 abide
They can't go out on dates

They will get over it
(Not b4 they pitch a fit!)
Or they'll get a ticket
(And they can't afford it!)

© From A Quarantined Poet's ♥️
4/12/20

People wear frowns
And they wear gowns
People wear face masks While doing tasks

Pretty soon they'll wear
Coverings for their shoes
Just like doctors
And surgeons do

People wear gloves
Afraid they'll get sick
Like God up above
Couldn't heal them that quick

© From A Poet's ♥️
4/12/20

Easter n quarantine
This is obscene!
Easter n quarantine
Covid-19, u r really mean!

© From A Quarantined Poet's ♥️
4/12/20

I can't c my kids
He still says they r his
He teaches them hate
Now that Morgan is 8

Roy's following too
And I don't know what to do

© From A Mother's 💔
4/14/20

He found another way
For DSS to say
That I cannot c
Not even #3

He's using the system
To benefit him
To brainwash them
Against me & William

© From A Mother's 💔
4/14/20

Happy birthday
To u all
Sorry that I
Couldn't call

© From A Poet's ♥️
4/20/20

"Boredom"
Inspired by: "Jolene" by Dolly Parton

https://youtu.be/Ixrje2rXLMA

Boredom! Boredom!
Boredom! Boredom!
Please give everyone something else to do!
Boredom! Boredom!
Boredom! Boredom!
Please before we go insane inside!

Your torture is beyond compare
U drive us to the brink w/ dares
W/ nothing left to do but stare around
Your smile is like evil disguised
Your voice telling all kinds of lies
And we've run out of things to do,
Boredom!

They talk about u on the news
You're streaming w/ the largest views
There's nowhere we can escape u
Boredom!

And I could easily understand
How you have need to recruit us
But you don't know what sanity is
Boredom!

Boredom! Boredom!
Boredom! Boredom!
Please give everyone something else to do!
Boredom! Boredom!
Boredom! Boredom!
Please before we go insane inside!

U could choose other planets
But u have chosen planet Earth
Seems we're the one for the job
Boredom!

I had 2 get this off my chest
So we can actually get some rest
I hope there is not another test
Boredom!

Boredom! Boredom!
Boredom! Boredom!
Please give everyone something else to do!
Boredom! Boredom!
Boredom! Boredom!
Please before we go insane inside!

Boredom! Boredom!

© From A Poet's ❤️
4/21/20

If I cuss like a sailor
And dress like a tailor
Then my mouth would b *****
Even passed the age of 30.

© From A Poet's ♥️
4/22/20

If it smells like a trout
And u can't stay out
B sure to use protection
So u won't get an infection

© From A Poet's ♥️
4/22/20
I really want
To c my dad
But he only
Makes me mad

© From A Poet's 💔
3/22/20

Photo inspiration

Kissing in the rain
Washes away the pain
Even if it's in the shower
That takes over an hour
The hot water will run out
Then cold water comes out the spout
And then kills the mood
So we move to the room
Things r heating up now
There's no turning back now
Let's keep the momentum going
Now that our juices r flowing

© From A Poet's ♥️
5/12/20

2 Mother's Days
Came & went away
2 Mother's Days
I cried the day away

© From A Mother's 💔
5/12/20

Stress is a b*tch
It steals your joy
It makes u itch

© From A Poet's ♥️
5/11/20


Co-vid
Inspired by Jolene by Dolly Parton

Co-vid! Co-vid!
Co-vid! Co-vid!
We're beggin' of you please don't take our health!
Co-vid! Co-vid!
Co-vid! Co-vid!
We're beggin' of you please don't take our wealth!

Your symptoms come n a disguise
The media spreading all your lies
W/ scare tactics & fear mongering
Your gift to us makes us all cuss
We can't b who we were once
And we cannot compete with u
Co-vid

We dream about u n nightmares
U r on the news, u're everywhere
There's no escaping u @ all
Co-vid

But we can't easily understand
How you can take women & men
But u don't know what they mean 2 us
Co-vid

Co-vid! Co-vid!
Co-vid! Co-vid!
We're beggin' of you please don't take our health!
Co-vid! Co-vid!
Co-vid! Co-vid!
We're beggin' of you please don't take our wealth!

U could have your choice of homes
But we can't just go out & roam
Home's the only place 4 us
Co-vid

I had to write this song to u
Our very lives depend on u
And whatever u sent our way next
Co-vid

Co-vid! Co-vid!
Co-vid! Co-vid!
We're beggin' of you please don't take our health!
Co-vid! Co-vid!
Co-vid! Co-vid!
We're beggin' of you please don't take our wealth!

Co-vid! Co-vid!

© From A Quarantined Poet's ♥️
4/19/20

Covid-19
U r obscene
We once were free
But we couldn't see

U stole that
From us
Til we
Wanna cuss

We can't see
Our fam
And u don't
Give a ****

We can't see
Our friends
Will this
Pandemic end?

Some can't go
To work
U're just a
Big ****

Kids can't
Go to school
Now parents
Have to enforce rules

© From A Quarantined Poet's ♥️
4/8/20

Quarantine
Day 33!
***!
Woe is me!

Quarantine
Day 33!
Who r u &
Who is she?

Quarantine
Day 33!
Washing hands
To meet demands

Quarantine
Day 33!
Only go to work
Don't get perks

Quarantine
Day 33
I work full-time
But not he

Quarantine
Day 33
Shopping carts
6 feet apart

6 feet apart
And no hugs
6 feet apart
Don't share cootie bugs

© From A Working Quarantined Poet's ♥️
4/11/20

N response to another poet's poem

We too are essential
And get paid small
For the work we do
For travelers and all

To find place of rest
At our hotel
We're practically the only ones open
As u can tell

I'm also a caregiver
Keeping people healthy
Although with covid-19
Not many r wealthy

We're all n this 2gether
All over the world
Hopefully future changes come
Soon to the weather

Don't matter the color of skin
Black, white or brown
We're all stuck in
All over every town

© From A Poet's ♥️
4/11/20

The 12 Months Of Lockdown

On the first month of lockdown all over my small town,
Jobs laid off, people stayed home!

On the second month of lockdown all over my small town,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people stayed home!

On the third month of lockdown all over my small town,
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people stayed home!

On the fourth month of lockdown all over my small town,
Video chats
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people stayed home!

On the fifth month of lockdown all over my small town,
Homeschooling!
Video chats
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people got sent home!

On the sixth month of lockdown all over my small town,
Honey-do projects!
Homeschooling!
Video chats
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people got sent home!

On the seventh month of lockdown all over my small town,
Toilet paper hoarding!
Honey-do projects!
Homeschooling!
Video chats
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people got sent home!

On the eighth month of lockdown all over my small town,
Pay your bills online!
Toilet paper hoarding!
Honey-do projects!
Homeschooling!
Video chats
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people got sent home!

On the ninth month of lockdown all over my small town,
People went crazy!
Pay your bills online!
Toilet paper hoarding!
Honey-do projects!
Homeschooling!
Video chats
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people got sent home!

On the 10th month of lockdown all over my small town,
Hosting watch parties!
People went crazy!
Pay your bills online!
Toilet paper hoarding!
Honey-do projects!
Homeschooling!
Video chats
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people got sent home!

On the 11th month of lockdown all over my small town,
Virtual church attendance
Hosting watch parties!
People went crazy!
Pay your bills online!
Toilet paper hoarding!
Honey-do projects!
Homeschooling!
Video chats
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people got sent home!

On the 12th month of lockdown all over my small town,
Wear face masks & gloves
Virtual church attendance
Hosting watch parties!
People went crazy!
Pay your bills online!
Toilet paper hoarding!
Honey-do projects!
Homeschooling!
Video chats
Online jobs,
People got bored
Jobs laid off, people got sent home!

© From A Quarantined Poet's ♥️
4/11/20

We're 'spose 2 b locked down
But it don't look like it
But all over my town
Ppl r pitching fits

They cannot go c
Their own family
They cannot go do
What they intended to

They r stuck inside
W/ family they hate
W/ rules 2 abide
They can't go out on dates

They will get over it
(Not b4 they pitch a fit!)
Or they'll get a ticket
(And they can't afford it!)

© From A Quarantined Poet's ♥️
4/12/20

People wear frowns
And they wear gowns
People wear face masks While doing tasks

Pretty soon they'll wear
Coverings for their shoes
Just like doctors
And surgeons do

People wear gloves
Afraid they'll get sick
Like God up above
Couldn't heal them that quick

© From A Poet's ♥️
4/12/20

Easter n quarantine
This is obscene!
Easter n quarantine
Covid-19, u r really mean!

© From A Quarantined Poet's ♥️
4/12/20

I can't c my kids
He still says they r his
He teaches them hate
Now that Morgan is 8

Roy's following too
And I don't know what to do

© From A Mother's 💔
4/14/20

He found another way
For DSS to say
That I cannot c
Not even #3

He's using the system
To benefit him
To brainwash them
Against me & William

© From A Mother's 💔
4/14/20

Happy birthday
To u all
Sorry that I
Couldn't call

© From A Poet's ♥️
4/20/20

"Boredom"
Inspired by: "Jolene" by Dolly Parton

https://youtu.be/Ixrje2rXLMA

Boredom! Boredom!
Boredom! Boredom!
Please give everyone something else to do!
Boredom! Boredom!
Boredom! Boredom!
Please before we go insane inside!

Your torture is beyond compare
U drive us to the brink w/ dares
W/ nothing left to do but stare around
Your smile is like evil disguised
Your voice telling all kinds of lies
And we've run out of things to do,
Boredom!

They talk about u on the news
You're streaming w/ the largest views
There's nowhere we can escape u
Boredom!

And I could easily understand
How you have need to recruit us
But you don't know what sanity is
Boredom!

Boredom! Boredom!
Boredom! Boredom!
Please give everyone something else to do!
Boredom! Boredom!
Boredom! Boredom!
Please before we go insane inside!

U could choose other planets
But u have chosen planet Earth
Seems we're the one for the job
Boredom!

I had 2 get this off my chest
So we can actually get some rest
I hope there is not another test
Boredom!

Boredom! Boredom!
Boredom! Boredom!
Please give everyone something else to do!
Boredom! Boredom!
Boredom! Boredom!
Please before we go insane inside!

Boredom! Boredom!

© From A Poet's ❤️
4/21/20

If I cuss like a sailor
And dress like a tailor
Then my mouth would b *****
Even passed the age of 30.

© From A Poet's ♥️
4/22/20

If it smells like a trout
And u can't stay out
B sure to use protection
So u won't get an infection

© From A Poet's ♥️
4/22/20

We pay rent
And don't c a cent
Of it in air
And she doesn't care

© From A Poet's ♥️
5/3/20

Photo challenge

I caught Tinker Bell!
The devilish little sprite!
She has been causing hell!
When she is out of sight!

© From A Poet's ♥️
5/3/20
https://youtu.be/_wA5NmQESx8

Intro
Did u hear that?
Oh no!
Oh ah ah ah ah!
Oh ah ah ah ah!
Oh Oh!
Oh Oh!
Oh Oh!

Verse 1
Drowning deep in their stupidity
Blinded, your servants they heed
(Will they give n2 u?)
There's nothing left of their human side
They're slowly changing their minds
(Will they give n2 u?)
Reflecting on all their mistakes
When there's nothing they can do!
Suddenly it all changes!
Owww!
It's the point of no return
U've awaken the monster in us!

Chorus
Scrub up, do not come down with the Co-vid
Scrub up, do not come down with the Co-vid
Scrub up, do not come down with the Co-vid
Wash your hands with soap, and hot water for 3 mins.
Scrub up, do not come down with the Co-vid
U brainless get up, scrub up do not come down with the Co-vid
U mindless get up, scrub up do not come down with the Co-vid
Co-vid is the curse that has been given to us

Verse 2
I can see it in u, the sickness inside u
Don't try to deny what u know
(Will u give in to sin?)
Its all fake, the good has died in u
And is decomposing now
(Will u give in to sin?)
It seems some r having problems
In believing the media
Living w/ their new lives (oh no)
The world is a quiet place
Now that we r all prisoners locked up inside

Chorus
Scrub up, do not come down with the Co-vid
Scrub up, do not come down with the Co-vid
Scrub up, do not come down with the Co-vid
Wash your hands with soap, and hot water for 3 mins.
Scrub up, do not come down with the Co-vid
U brainless get up, scrub up do not come down with the Co-vid
U mindless get up, scrub up do not come down with the Co-vid
Co-vid is the curse that has been given to us

Post chorus
And n nightmares!
And n nightmares!
And n nightmares!
And n nightmares!

Bridge
We promise we won't do it again
Won't do it again
We all will be good
We all will be good, we promise
Not one more day!

© From A Poet's ♥️
4/22/20
Bunhead17 Nov 2013
[Intro: Big Sean]
I look up
Yeah and I take my time, *****
I'mma take my time, whoa
Power moves only, *****

[Verse 1: Big Sean]
Boy I'm 'bout my business on business, I drink liquor on liquor
I had women on women, yeah that's bunk bed *******
I've done lived more than an eighty year old man still kickin'
Cause they live for some moments, and I live for a livin'
But this for the girls who barely let me get to first base
On some ground ball ****
Cause now I run my city on some town hall ****
They prayin' on my *******' downfall *****, like a drought, but
You gon' get this rain like it's May weather
G.O.O.D. Music, Ye weather
Champagne just tastes better
They told me I never boy, never say never
Swear flow special like an infant's first steps
I got paid then reversed debts
Then I finally found a girl that reverse stress
So now I'm talkin' to the reaper to reverse death
Yep, so I can kick it with my granddad, take him for a ride
Show him I made somethin' out myself and not just tried
Show him the house I bought the fam, let him tour inside
No matter how far ahead I get, I always feel behind
In my mind, but **** tryin' and not doin'
Cause not doin' is somethin' a ***** not doin'
I said **** tryin' and not doin'
Cause not doin' is somethin' a ***** not doin'
I grew up to Em, B.I.G. and Pac *****, and got ruined
So until I got the same crib B.I.G. had in that Juicy vid
*****, I can't *******' stop movin'
Go against me, you won't stop losin'
From the city where every month is May-Day at home, spray your dome
****** get sprayed up like AK was cologne for a paycheck or loan
Yeah I know that **** ain't fair
They say Detroit ain't got a chance, we ain't even got a mayor
You write your name with a Sharpie, I write mine in stone
I knew the world was for the taking and wouldn't take long
We on, tryna be better than everybody that's better than everybody
Rep Detroit, everybody, Detroit versus everybody
I'm so ******' first class, I could spit up on every pilot
The city's my Metropolis, feel it, it's metabolic
And I'm over ****** sayin' they're the hottest ******
Then run to the hottest ****** just to stay hot
I'm one of the hottest because I flame drop
Drop fire, and not because I'm name dropping, Hall of Fame droppin'
And I ain't takin' **** from nobody unless they're OG's
Cause that ain't the way of a OG
So I G-O collect more G's, every dollar
Never changed though, I'm just the new version of old me
Forever hot headed but never got cold feet
Got up in the game won't look back at my old seats
Clique so deep we take up the whole street
I need a ***** so bad that she take up my whole week, Sean Don

[Bridge: Kendrick Lamar]
Miscellaneous minds are never explainin' their minds
Devilish grin for my alias aliens to respond
Peddlin' sin, thinkin' maybe when you get old you realize
I'm not gonna fold or demise
(I don't smoke crack, ******* I sell it!)
*****, everything I rap is a quarter piece to your melon
So if you have a relapse, just relax and pop in my disc
Don't you pop me no ******* pill, I'mma a pop you and give you this

[Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar]
Tell Flex to drop a bomb on this ****
So many bombs, ring the alarm like Vietnam on this ****
So many bombs, make Farrakhan think that Saddam in this *****
One at a time, I line them up
And bomb on they mom while she watching the kids
I'm in a destruction mode if the gold exists
I'm important like the Pope, I'm a Muslim on pork
I'm Makaveli's offspring, I'm the king of New York
King of the Coast, one hand, I juggle them both
The juggernaut's all in your jugular, you take me for jokes
Live in the basement, church pews and funeral faces
Cartier bracelets for my women friends, I'm in Vegas
Who the **** y'all thought it's supposed to be?
If Phil Jackson came back, still no coachin' me
I'm uncoachable, I'm unsociable, **** y'all clubs
**** y'all pictures, your Instagram can gobble these nuts
Gobble **** up til you hiccup, my big homie Kurupt
This the same flow that put the rap game on a crutch (West x6)
I've seen ****** transform like villain Decepticons
Mollies'll prolly turn these ****** to ******* Lindsay Lohan
A bunch of rich *** white girls looking for parties
Playing with Barbies, wreck the Porsche before you give them the car key
Judgment to the monarchy, blessings to Paul McCartney
You called me a black Beatle, I'm either that or a Marley
(I don't smoke crack, *******, I sell it)
I'm dressed in all black, this is not for the fan of Elvis
I'm aiming straight for your pelvis, you can't stomach me
You plan on stumpin' me? ***** I’ve been jumped before you put a gun on me
***** I put one on yours, I'm Sean Connery
James Bonding with none of you ******, climbing 100 mil in front of me
And I'm gonna get it even if you're in the way
And if you're in it, better run for Pete's sake
I heard the barbershops be in great debates all the time
Bout who's the best MC? Kendrick, Jigga and Nas
Eminem, Andre 3000, the rest of y'all
New ****** just new ******, don't get involved
And I ain't rocking no more designer ****
White T’s and Nike Cortez, this red Corvettes anonymous
I'm usually homeboys with the same ****** I'm rhymin' with
But this is hip-hop and them ****** should know what time it is
And that goes for Jermaine Cole, Big KRIT, Wale
Pusha T, Meek Millz, A$AP Rocky, Drake
Big Sean, Jay Electron', Tyler, Mac Miller
I got love for you all but I'm tryna ****** you ******
Trying to make sure your core fans never heard of you ******
They don't wanna hear not one more noun or verb from you ******
What is competition? I'm trying to raise the bar high
Who tryna jump and get it? You're better off trying to skydive
Out the exit window of 5 G5’s with 5 grand
With your granddad as the pilot he drunk as **** trying land
With the hand full of arthritis and popping prosthetic leg
Bumpin Pac in the cockpit so the **** that pops in his head
Is an option of violence, someone heard the stewardess said
That your parachute is a latex ****** hooked to a dread
West Coast

[Verse 3: Jay Electronica]
You could check my name on the books
I Earth, Wind, and Fire’d the verse, then rained on the hook
The legend of Dorothy Flowers proclaimed from the roof
The tale of a magnificent king who came from the nooks
Of the wild magnolia, mother of many soldiers
We live by every single word she ever told us
Watch over your shoulders
And keep a tin of beans for when the weather turns the coldest
The Lord is our shepherd, so our cup runneth over
Put your trust in the Lord but tether your Chevy Nova
I’m spittin' this **** for closure
And God is my witness, so you could get it from Hova
To all you magicians that’s fidgeting with the cobra
I’m silent as a rock, ‘cause I came from a rock
That’s why I came with the rock, then signed my name on the Roc
Draw a line around some Earth, then put my name on the plot
Cause I endured a lot of pain for everything that I got
The eyelashes like umbrellas when it rains from the heart
And the tissue is like an angel kissin you in the dark
You go from blind sight to hindsight, passion of the Christ
Right, to baskin' in the limelight, it take time to get your mind right
Jay Electricity, PBS mysteries
In a lofty place, tangling with Satan over history
You can’t say **** to me - Alhamdulillah
It’s strictly by faith that we made it this far
This is the lyrics to "Control" by Kendrick Lamar ft. Big Sean ft. Jay Electronica, ****. No I.D ...
I so mad that he dissed half of my favorite rappers and how is it that he dissed Big Sean and Jay Electronica and they're rapping in this song....I don't understand. But i kinda like this song.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2020
i remember the meningitis scare:
   oh... it was very real...
i guess it was supposed to affect a niche
proportion of the population...

so much for the "scare":
they would vaccinate us in the schools:
since children were more prone
to succumb to: and inflammation of
the lining around your brain and spinal cord...

and all that: press a thumb against
a skin... and if the skin returns to its original
colouring: there's no blemish of applied
pressure... pressing glasses onto the skin too...

the aesthetics have changed so drastically:
what can **** you is so subtle these days...
it's hardly a case of leprosy...
or... eczema of the zombie plague:
or miniature lilal mushrooms growing
out from your armpits:
suddenly breaking into song:
  'steve told us to sing... so we have
sprouted: to sing!'
       no... celeriac sized warts... hell...
i haven't seen any pictures of covid-19...
as i never saw pictures of ebola...

            death has been given: an anonymity...
but what's still kept in reserve?
shingles...
     like: hyper-eczema...
                i'm having to consolidate myself
on the luck of being 30+ and still having...
a skin on my face that i can't peel:
but i'm sure that belzeebub took a dump on...

they're either dead maggots
or dead white blood-cells...
        i guess i have so many of the latter that...
my immune system is constantly
on a over-charge mode...
          
    where are the lilac mushrooms about to grow
out from out of my armpits:
when will death become visible again:
outside her womb:
without any anonymity to behold:
when will everything... "ev'fing"
  return to the obviousness of a guillotine...
a hangman...
      a... hanged, drawn and... quartered?

the improved aesthetics of the threat is hardly
be sitting in an armchair...
welcoming this: paranoia precursor...
there's no phosphorescent yellow-green phlegm
being shot through the air with a sneeze...

i'm quite disturbed about all this...
        "sterility"...
                      well thankfuly i know that
a schizophrenic can't beget a drone-replica:
dead'ed brain: "schizz"... zombie-cult-esque
   brain: riddled with parasites like...
a disciple of burrough's fever might provide:
subsequently... by...
   by caughing a splitting-headache that might:
somehow: "later": arrive at some variation
of bilingualism...
          but never will... perhaps it should...

because: right now: i want to wrong about everything...
i want to ****** with a hard-on of doubt...
and perhaps: tease negation a little...
or rub-rub-'er very much...
but i do: most honestly...
    want to be wrong about everything...
esp. when it comes to...
   the aesthetics of the "problem":
    it's a problem-solution: solution-problem
  quadratic...
           i mean: if it was truly cosmic... and original...
would it really care for much of aesthetics...
can viruses becomes stealth assassins?
   is a virus a misnomer of plague?
or is... a virus a former case of plague...
  that couldn't be: prior... weaponized?
   the rampant exfoliation of: the obliterated
concern for aesthetics...
   oh sure... it's clean cut...
           god knows what happened to those old
curiosities of medicine...

otherwise...

   what will 3 hours spent reading nothing but
Dickens do to you...
me? i "somehow" managed to miss / forget
about a sunset...
   came the night and... yeah: when meningitis
hit...
   and i guess after the mad-cow disease...
break-dancing limp feet cows...
drunk cows... morbidly drunk cows...

      there was always that postcard reference:
now?
you could obviously see the bubonic plague
from a mile away...
you could see eczema...
you can sure as **** see a shingles belt...
        would a virus even care...
to appease the aesthetic concerns of man?
how doesn't cancer do that...
well... i just start thinking about...
the botanical cancer... viscum...
hardly seen in western europe: tree-foundation
societies... etc.
   half an hour on the road outside of warsaw...
that's enough...

oh sure: because of covid-19:
who could, "somehow" forget about...
                  metastatic tumors!
oh the joys of... <cough cough> the carousel
or that ol' chestnut!
            come to think of it...
    would ingesting a tapeworm make thinks and things
more real?
what wouldn't be bad
about acquiring a symbiote these days?
     all: postulations of the mundane...
without yet within the science-fiction universe...
the facts will simply not stand the test
of time... or will... but will be shelved...
given to the bookworms and their placenta
worm-queen...

it's actually becoming a sieving tool for acquiring
nothing lost: of the old mundane...
the sterile aesthetics of the whole under-taking...
it's too: invisible: too pure...
to be... a freakish byproduct of nature...
sending us back in time...
as the original: single-cell organism
about to usurp the crown of creation...

    my list of conspiracy theories begins
with: catcher in the rye "coincidences" and...
that david copperfield sort of *******...
      because if it's not Pickwican...
it's certainly not an account of count
smorltork:
        peek - christian name
                weeks - surname; good, ver good...

otherwise these days:
the intellect has become a sponge...
and the supposed underlying:
because it is "supposed" and there's an
"underlying" aspect to all of this...
that there is a "dialectic" and...
otherwise: the bestest of the best kind
of...            soap...

is it a revival of an "empire"...
when at the height of its decline...
there was that motto:

     panem et circenses...

     what's underlying in Dickensian prose?
well... some of the words used...
i'd sit with a page and check the dictionary
3 times on average...
because there's still that underlying:
we, Britons, prior to the "english"...
the anglo-saxons... are the Afghanistan
oopsies of the ancient world...
there are so many words with direct
connection: etymologically "speaking"
with latin...

now: the bread is still "here"...
   of the 20th century... you could see a ****
coming way back in 1933...
and the communist... whenever that happened...
and you could subsequently trickle the "evil"
archetype into movies... into gaming...
and have people hooked on a bullseye of evil...

now? greyish blips and blobs of
Kantian bureaucracy...
    
o.k. panem et circenses...
looks to me...
like the circuses are long gone...
the bread is still here...
but... of all the seismic shifts this is...
hardly a ffffffffffff-ucking Pompeii!
riddle me this: riddle me that...
what can possibly become so... overly entertaining...
about eating a slice of bread?
why are the vermin: multiplying:
what's with all this: "huddling" at a distance?
need a cape with that: herr ubermensch?

last time i checked: rats do no operated
under herd scriptures...
there's not need for a shepherd...
there is: fire! scramble!
peep-squeak and more!
          
    an impeding confrontation with a pack of wolves...
a vegetarian lion convert...
                 the bubonic plague: lack of aesthetic...
and now this...
this supreme aesthetic of: when the ancient greeks
thirsted to conceive of the existence
of atoms...
          not that i require proof...
what so of circus: though...
      is, this?!

- yes folks... in the current climate of labyrinths...
the Minotaur isn't here...
and we're out of stock on smoke...
and... mirrors...

citations of a possible prediction to allign with
some variation of borrowed horrors:
to usurp the status quo and sentences us for:
there's no "third time lucky" therein...

all that's happened though:
mental people who would never allow
their minds to riddle them...
become claustrophobic by mere thought...
can you?
translate thinking into claustrophobia?
oh god... no... we haven't reached this nadir...
have we?
thought didn't imply θ(ought)!
that erotica of a would be pronoun:
the moral quest...
                  not because i did something bad
in the past...
but because:
i did what others didn't do prior to me...
i ride the wave of what a *******
said to me once:
after an ******:
this is only the second time it has happened
to me: hello ***** envy thrown out of the window!
hello sisters of mercy in some convent
in Limerick!
'allo! 'allo!

beside the moral conundrum of θ(ought): ought i?
this narrative of the ol' 'ed...
is... claustrophobic?
             spread this negation-of-ease further:
dear kin!
   dis- prefix that denotes negation...
ah... and -ease! the suffix that complete the circle:
no contemplation is necessary!

i'm still seeing bread, though...
oh mein gott! die zirkusse! die zirkusse!
what can be done about the circuses?!

people are coupling thinking with claustrophobia...
people are implored to read
for at least 3 hours a day!
a dickens! a tolstoy! a dumas!
and then relax from congesting paragraph strain
and explore the airy side of what was
written into prose and paragraph with
the aid of poetics: that non-exclusivity of rhyme:
always missing... best missing!

i too abhor this synonym:
poetry is what rhymes...
            a set list of: knock-knock jokes...
about as tasteful as...
               roast beef: done well done...
eating the bark of wood:
now that's an adventure!

            or what's... the adjective riddle / riddled...
of: now...
permanent - adjective... these days a host
of "calling scheitmeiser for all his worth"
and what not...      
                               now: the experimental
history of yesterday and "oops"
now: the cameo cinema of yesterday...
and god willing:
you have a "savings account"
of: memories that can...
suffocate the future: the imagining...
of and for the nought of nothing...
the "conundrum": of being...
such and such... and somehow...
retain: personhood...
rather than... a mere... citizentry "status"...
of the ebbing flow of cattle meat and dung:
itsy-bitsy spider teeth itching...
before the bone!
and... after the bones!

load of crock-**** Lombardy is not
Italy... mantra...
and those rites of rats from
the sinking ship that's Wenice...
much too... quasi-important...

      H - surd of a letter...
but the skeleton supposed to behind:
laughter...

the hibernian folk know it...
the english: eh... somewhat...
          bound to θ and bound to φ...
in t'ought... but not in: t'aught...
who needs the apostrophe?
no me: not "you"...
         third: or... θird:
or... ****... or τ(au) says: "herd"...
                             and what's "spezial"...
the surd worth of π (pi)
     in ψ...
                    or      'sychology...
              then there's "all that" with...
chrome: the χ that becomes a kappa (κ)...
but not... exactly the...
the...      ah!                   CHisel!
chasing dog's tails?

                            but a hardy: hibernian:
it's not an F... it's a T...
we have to expose the H-surd! primo
pronto!

    but ψ can afford...
          πσι in that...
                      either the π... or the π...
is treated as a surd..
cited: the whittle canyon of eta (Ηη)..
            ha: if it's a definite article in 'ebrew...
or ha: if... you need a consonant
skeleton... to breathe when laughing...

toes when marching: chin ching chatter...
otherwise "K / kappa" the matter...
taught to think it all but a massive:
****!
   or... a θurd... which is exfoliating in
the gaellic concept of: third...

i'm not from 'ere...
              mind you...
              this is all disneyland for m'eh et moi...
hello whittle atom me...
hello whittle atom you...
hello: hyvä aamu... susie 'ere...
       rakastaa... että ulvonta...
                 "unohti" haukkua:
fins... drawfs... and other whittle people...
eskimos of the "narrative":
   "kaikki alkaen apinamaa"!
    pωl pυt ***...
             and there's "3" of 'em!
exactly... what about the V'em...
             perhaps a F'ought...
      but: V'ere!
            V'em!
                            who the **** gets to
assure me: this language "ving" or "thin"...
sure hands... sure hands...
it's not all grafitti from chernobyll!

and what if... Joycean would 'ave to begin
its pilgrimage toward Dickensian?
this Ezra of ours: what of this...Ezra of
Fahrenheit of "ours"?

           my atom "versus" your... "atomized" man?
my spaghetti english
versus your... i'll sooner choke on ß...
or SuS...
         or SaS
                  SeS...          sayß...
h'american spaghetti english... *** riddled:
ghetto crown-tongue...


me and finding a juggling of chuckles
with: wit... hiding the ha ha...
when θ = τ...
hibernian...
poland the playground of god:
greek... the plaground of men...
esp. those as being cited:
with origin of the barbarian tinge...

  exatly! what of WH when TH are....
thought of "wen":
this grafitti phpneticism...
this barbarism...
no code of "conduct":
what should have:
and did "have": a happen to...
when it came to the ratio
of consonants to vowels...
  of the latter there was a supposed more...
or the latter a less...

    h.i.v. vampirism romances
would have to die...
  a death... most... closely associated with:
psychopaths: or...
the general pathology is: soul-quests...
all "things" considered...
there is no "grand-Σ"
        "past-participle":
of the unconscious-conscious liver...
does the part: actor... functions
of... i robot: you, not here...

the liver does what a liver does:
even if: i r woke...
and i r: sleepz...
               eyes only on when...
orientating myself around:
a failure of a distinct "individual":
moi foie premier...
   moi estomac premier...
and of "me" or... a me...
given that... there's no: "the me"...
            load of ******* and a chewing tube
of "worded"... "circumstances"...
as: "the alternative" to...
sorry... no other alternative...
was... or would ever... be given...
errror message 404 commences: as of: now!

- or... can you?
compensate a word like... draconian...
with a word... the periphery word...
akin to... byzantine?!
the kite's high up in the ******* air
my dear lad...
can you? "compensate" this...
marry of all other:
never-poppin' up 'ins?!

that's one way of minding:
a grey-ginger...
or an albino-masai...
for "good luck"... of all t'ings:
the lerprechaun 'ucking charm brigade!
that's just 'ucking necessary: that is!

as.... the people have already mentioned
their freedom: to cite and keep up to
the rigours of salutations...
they said and they said... and they:
sad but nonetheless: they sad-***-made-"truth"-of...
"it": 'ucking wombat
multiverse l.s.d.: me typing on an old... cranky...
soviet "qwerty" imitation...

the freedom prior to the plague:
i am yet to see...
the **** covid... and the leprechaun...
and the tarantula...
and the... leech...
   **** me: raining cats and dogs:
what a scenario!
     i was supposed to get...
               not leech: not *****...
those fidgeting terse quizzes...
          *****... no... leech... no...
leprechauns: double no...
             szarańcza... old mother-tongue:
ah yes... "these":
                                 locust!

the third of the lard off the herd of the most:
"likely"... nosense to me:
something for you:              up!
otherwise know as:
quiet a bollocking... wouldn't you,
somehow... please... stage:
an agreed to?
               ****'s sake...

  tyrd the triddle twiddle torn und
towing: dublin the sorry-eye: und sore...
you freckled maverick salt
burner you... and... it's a ginger:
stick-prone... keep y'er eager distance...

eh? that's true: is what's through...
**** paddy **** and a poor ******
walk into a bar...
and the bartender is... a kippah-don
of a rastafarian:
the jokes end...
and there was never a conversation
to begin with... ha ha!
now that's a joke... to wake up...
a frankenstein!

      ginger pleb: ginger poodle!
the new africa: the new eskimo...
or... the finnish gateway: etymologically speaking...
an alternative to... *** and...
              the leftover mongols
stranded by the waters
of the empire: receding...
          the...        no: not the croats...
the...
          a very much elongating concept
of pause....
              "d" or the "v" of: v'eh...: the...
the  immortal savages
of: crimea...
      ah yes!
                  those...            tar-tars!
like the tartare steak:
or what was forever available as
the alibi for: sushi!

        because tokyo is just one of those...
forever huan: new... beijing chicken shacks...
and "tokyo"...
or some other anime typo *******...

irish catholic intellectuals...
and... the none existence of whatever
would have required a magna carta:
believe it or... eat **** sort of
mentality...
            the russian doctors
are already abiding to be hunted
if not huddling in churches...
because: co-vex said: co-vid...
co-vid: sharing blockbuster intrusion
pokes was: that last resort to
mortality: and oh...

          this should have happened a long...
a long long time ago...
  transparency tourism...
where you going?
nowhere...
  and "where" is "going"... "nowhere"...
a bit like france... and the eiffel tower...
and there's no speaking french to have
to be resolved...
because like: "**** it" and what?

the ginger-ninja... the ginger-ninja...
the ginger-ninja and...
when the reality of *****...
reaches... an escalation "reality"
of: synonym with... oh god! beards!
ugh!           vot                          ven?!

yep... and the irish were always:
the horse-breeders..
they always were...
always the catholic-intellect juggernauts...
because the hey'talians and
the spoon-innards...
and... mon deu: zee: fwench!
forget the ****** cathos-pathos...
*******-of-os...

and in me:
the gravitas for a disconcerting ambivalence...
almost a compound:
misnomer... but no...
i like the spaghetti though...
yeah: it looks nice on paper...
and off paper...
and anything to cite: the godfather with...
because: boo is a ghost story
that a solo would sell... and ******* like
that...                   yup...
which is a word: to replace the ideal trajectory of:
would be: ghost limb...
james bond...
                          roulette...
you the actors "faking it": no of course...
dylan thomas bob dylan...
"faking it" i.e. stunt actors!
what's "bob": when there's a ******* roulette:
and a devil's dozen of rich, russian...
oligarchal chick... pretending plastic is not...
new world... ******: comb-over...
creaking chair... stlye-on... style-off...
plastico-supermanoh... dynamo-oh-oh...
those "soz" and "whatsevers"...
works well...
the times column...
when your parents are... conscripted...

             mammoth playdough oh oh oh...
irish is cheap...
catholic is cheap-oh...
******...
ha ha... let's not go there...
becauße that's like...
   goldberg variations: the bwv 988 aria...
   yeah: "soz"... but... i'll ******* eat you:
if i have to: for the purpose assigned
to a hard-on... most associated with...
sparrows...
and... the pirates of the confines...
the magpies...
          
             in every period of congregational
"sanity" there's that interlude into:
madness...
howl how! oh dear world of:
that lost appetite of surprise!
        you begin to wither... and die off:
by the slow culmination of hours...
like... a picture to entomb the perfecting
affair of a decaying pear... or apple...
               and...

            and....                 and...
trickling of sentiments...
and sounds...

                           and there are commentaries...
and there are... catholic bishops...
and protestant cardinals...
and ****** popes!             ah ha!
am i to.. truly... die... from laughter?!
David Huggett Nov 2012
I was called a troll today,
I really don't know if I deserved it.
I comment and like but now I feel like ****.

She said I'm sure you never thought I would leave your comment up.
I'm doing so , so that every body can see you this far
the *** WIPE YOU REALLY ARE.

So sorry they didn't nominate your *** for the Grand WIZARD
BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME ***** go crawl like a lizard.

Sorry for this old troll who pay me a visit,
I know some of yall saw him...Lord Have Mercy...
Go to the activity room in the nursing home somewhere in Jersey.

Play BINGO OR SOMETHING don't know what gramps problem was
I think they did it to make you think it is someone
you don't know. Stupid *** people need a real woman

I just do not reply back.
Trolls can make themselves any age any ***
I am blessed not to be sick and homeless.

if they really want views all they have to do is ask
will I help out and share their vid...I will do just that!
depends on what they're talking about....Just dont try to combat.

My guess is Trolls are people looking for views and are bighearted
next time you should think before you sound *******
Sombro Jan 2015
'Do you want to go to a club?' he asked her.
She nodded and might even have smiled
He couldn't tell from
The gloom of her smartphone.

The club had a band and they played all the night
While she was playing Zombie Fight
The crowd got too crazy, and soon went to rush
While she was playing Candy Crush.

Her boyfriend got bored and went for a look
While she was checking her Facebook
He met a girl and he did the deed
While she was checking her Twitter feed.

She went to find him, looked up at the band
Wanted a member to hold by the hand
But they were all taken by girls who could try
While this girl just looked down and checked Spotify.

On the way home she saw a lady
On a Youtube vid' called 'What you've all  paid me.'
The people who watch her all make her life good
Be like her? The girl wished that she could.
It's sad, but I know a lot of people like this. Every time we go out for social events they're buried in their smartphones, not talking.
I entered my poem "last night I dreamed" in the Tallenge poetry competition for May 2014, which it won, it's now in the annual competition so I'd really appreciate your support by voting for it at -  bit.ly/1pJ0N3z

You can find the poem down the line in my list of poems, but I'll paste it here again so you can check it out to see if it's worth a vote.

Last Night I dreamt
Of the Hagia Sophia.
Looking across
mighty Bosphorous.
In Istanbul, in Byzantium,
in Constantinople.
A prize of ages...........
In all her many's
real and imagined glory.
Man's desire,
God's gift.
Stone's testament
To my species' faith,
In eternity.

Though this Hagia,
My Sophia,
was one of my dreams
In a dream-city/state.
In a dream Macedon/Thrace,
Modern and ancient
Asian/Europe, European-Asia,
Turk and Greek
Jew and Russian
Balkan stars fall upon her'
Coloured light's
and bright vid-screens.
Amid stone and earth
Glass and concrete,
Granite and amythst

Huge, jewel-covered,
ancient beyond measure....
Not just Constantine's church,
though mighty church it was..
Or Mehmet's prize;
though great Mosque it became
Nor Theodosius's rock
Though he still fights for her
Somewhere in the past.
And no dry museum either,
Though museum she is..........
In reality.

Just an ancient place,
Euxine harbour
Cross-road of man and water,
Land and Gods
Magic and reality
Chozen by Hellas
Built and owned
by Christ's children
Subjects of St. Paul's
Holy empire.
Orthodox and sacred
To Greek and Rus.
No Latin hymns
We're sung in her walls.

Then won by Turk
In wars fierce and long -
So now Muhammed's shrine
Ottoman and Pasha
Jewel of a new kingdom
Built upon built
Myriad upon myriad
Pagan, Muslim, Jew, and Christian
And the Gods of Hellas
who dwell there still
Watch and wonder
at it all

But in my dream
She was made -
in the shape of a grassy mound
Many faceted, growing still
Amid structures, attached to her
spans and arches
Ancient wonder
Modern glory
Flowing and rising
Worshipped by all who
dwelt near her.
Grassed covered
Monument strewn
Stretching up to the dark -
Starry Sky
Arches
Domes
Butress'
Spires
Crosses
Cresents
Heart's desire
White rocks paved
And eternal grasses
Dewed by Hellene Gods
Whose light it saved

Last night I dreamed
Of the Hagia Sophia.......
Thank you in advance if you give me a vote.
Lalit Makker Mar 2013
GUESS WHO ????



I am never the same,
its how you play the game
I can be your best friend,
as nowadays i am in trend,


Just a kick ,
to hit...............
Just a goal,
to score...........
Will make you RoaR..........rOaR....& RoAr...........



I am vid you,
you are vid me
I"ll never ditch you,
if i do so
then
BuY a new One

I aM U
i aM youR
FOOTBALL............................
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2018
.i somehow found myself in a predicament, i can only read German philosophers in English, and that's my sole exclusion "manifesto"... basically i can't fathom reading the genre of philosophy in the English tongue.... i can't... unless they're German... i have to return to the Slavic intricacies, whereby my consciousness is occupied with a translation perspective... English was never supposed to aim as high as speaking of philosophy, the English were never adept in asking questions: given they always gave the answers in technological, scientific, architectural foundations; the people of practicality... their downfall? tickling Marxism translated out of economics, and into culture... their one downfall... and.. it looks, partially, as it worked.

what, what what have we 'ere?!
   bobby on the beat...
lookie lookie, lookover here,
the jokes runs...
and the priests in Eastern Europe
are known as crows...
krúki...
     as a peoples who weren't
invaded by the Romans?
   looks like i've learned a thing
or two... about orientating myself
with the said letters...
no... St. Cyril didn't come past my parts...

etymology:
   sve-                (self sight /
           swoje         /       my)
  -to-                    (that / this)
    -vid               (widze, i see) -

basically?
the god, "in question"?
                 what i see, myself...
i see, as myself,
and  what is, self,
is what, i see...
detached from anyone else
that sees...
  (i see what i want to see...
i see my own, and as my own,
this is what, i see).

the priests are crows,
the police-officers are dogs...
i love crows...
ever see crows mate in daylight,
akin to pigeons?
  i've never seen crows mate
in daylight, in public...
they leverage their courtship
to the night,
in secluded areas...
             crow knows best...
a crow will to imitate a pigeon...
a crow will mate with a female
at night...
   and notably: in a secluded
march of a land...
a crow is not a pigeon is
not a reverse exhibitionist...
     a crow is a crow is: crow...

just like with the German philosophers...
some, i can actually read in English,
rarely, but i can...
within the confines of the obscure works,
esp. their revisionist texts...
e.g.
               via the variant:
da-ist-sein...
                      there is being...
well not **** Sherlock...
i've just encountered it about
the "second" time for the past 32nd year!
but da-ist-sein...
  well... there's no a priori schematic
to encompass the statement with...

   how the people prance citing Hegel,
while forgetting the basic building
block of Kant... like Beethoven mattered...
when Handel was the orientating
composer to pay attention to...

sure... da-sein can have an a priori
and an a posteriori reality...
but da-ist-sein doesn't have an a priori
contingent plan for rhetoric...
a sophistry...
      mind you..
  we live in the times where
sophistry married solipsism,
and said:
           take some time to reflect
spending time with transitions,
airport banalities of trans-national
transit, in terms of people...
taking a bus trip seems like
a breeze these days...

                 fascinating,
the English educational system involves
the Roman Empire...
oddly or rarely considered luckily am
of a people not conquered by the
pre kilt pansies...
                          and i'm scratching my head,
thinking...
                    but up to a certain year:
i seem to have no past,
just like you...
lost to the vehemency of institutionalizing
Darwinism as a replacement
of whatever history is implied
at that point...
not physics, not geology...
  thank **** that chemistry is not prone
to exert a historiological influence...
where i was born?
a flint-stone colony... half an hour's
worth of a bike-ride...
flit-mining... flit-stones...
   whenever science teases the humanities
by incorporating a "study" of history?
i lose it... chemistry never does this
sort of *******...
but biology with its historical Darwinism,
but physics with its historical Big Bang theory,
these sciences play both science
and a humanism game...
   bad idea...
  chemistry at least affects
the romantic movement...
what is a day in the day of the month
of the year, of a day, within the confines
of james joyce's Ulysses?
           oh look...
the double standard of the maxim:
an insignificant spec of dust that's a worth,
somehow, worth investigating...
nonetheless a spec of dust...
   the larger the universe becomes,
the smaller the human cognitive potential
becomes...
but the smaller the universe becomes,
the larger the human cognitive potential, is.
Advent Apr 2019
Disappointed with the way it is
and how it has been
How you feast with the beasts;
taking advantage of the situation we’re in

Divided in unwanted conspiracy
Divided in different sides of the story
Coming only from a simple plea
of your self-absorption,
and blindness from own’s irrationality
have you caused a dent, a division

With less hopes of resolution from this mounting divide,
Remember: we walked with all your kinds,
in wretchedness and in exuberance,
attesting, didn’t we all have a good run?

Now hear the people of your past,
stop romanticizing what won’t last–
Foreshadowing with plastering rewards
Those previously resented, now with flying regards

―a.t.
ioan pearce Feb 2010
lil taffy two tugs would wake up to the dawn,leaping to his laptop searching sites for ****,thanking stephen hawkins, also mr gates,grateful of technology, while taffy masterbates.the boyo bashed his bishop, most of all his life,now pc world was better and cheaper than a wife,lubrication, change of hands, oil and vaseline,lesbians, fat fetishes, and threesomes on his screen,but poor ole taffy passed away, his family in disgrace,trousers round his ankles, a smile upon his face,but two tugs died so happy, while he had a vid on,undertaker done his nutt,,,,he could'nt get the lid on.
Last Night I dreamt
Of the Hagia Sophia.
Looking across
mighty Bosphorous.
In Istanbul, in Byzantium,
in Constantinople.
A prize of ages...........
In all her many's
real and imagined glory.
Man's desire,
God's gift.
Stone's testament
To my species' faith,
In eternity.

Though this Hagia,
My Sophia,
was one of my dreams
In a dream-city/state.
In a dream Macedon/Thrace,
Modern and ancient
Asian/Europe, European-Asia,
Turk and Greek
Jew and Russian
Balkan stars fall upon her'
Coloured light's
and bright vid-screens.
Amid stone and earth
Glass and concrete,
Granite and amythst

Huge, jewel-covered,
ancient beyond measure....
Not just Constantine's church,
though mighty church it was..
Or Mehmet's prize;
though great Mosque it became
Nor Theodosius's rock
Though he still fights for her
Somewhere in the past.
And no dry museum either,
Though museum she is..........
In reality.

Just an ancient place,
Euxine harbour
Cross-road of man and water,
Land and Gods
Magic and reality
Chozen by Hellas
Built and owned
by Christ's children
Subjects of St. Paul's
Holy empire.
Orthodox and sacred
To Greek and Rus.
No Latin hymns
We're sung in her walls.

Then won by Turk
In wars fierce and long -
So now Muhammed's shrine
Ottoman and Pasha
Jewel of a new kingdom
Built upon built
Myriad upon myriad
Pagan, Muslim, Jew, and Christian
And the Gods of Hellas
who dwell there still
Watch and wonder
at it all

But in my dream
She was made -
in the shape of a grassy mound
Many faceted, growing still
Amid structures, attached to her
spans and arches
Ancient wonder
Modern glory
Flowing and rising
Worshipped by all who
dwelt near her.
Grassed covered
Monument strewn
Stretching up to the dark -
Starry Sky
Arches
Domes
Butress'
Spires
Crosses
Cresents
Heart's desire
White rocks paved
And eternal grasses
Dewed by Hellene Gods
Whose light it saved

Last night I dreamed
Of the Hagia Sophia.......
Dream Poem April 4 2014

I entered this poem in the Tallenge Poetry Contest for May 2014, which amazingly enough, It won first prize, its now in the annual competition so if you could vote for it at bit.ly/1pJ0N3z I would be really grateful.
You Made Me Go Through All These Experiences Just So I Could Write About It? (too long)
or
TISFU (that is so ****** up)
Or
Next!
Or
L’enfer c’est les autres
Or
I Hate Strangers!
Or
Street Corner Conundrum
or
Is that Approaching Drunken Psychotic ******* Yelling At Me?
Or
You say Zombie...I say Zombie Works
Or
I’m Happy **** It! 🤗
Or
You Sugared? The Peas?
Or
Does He Have Balance Problems or Has He Been Body-Snatched?
Or
Digital or Analog?
Or
Get Your **** Outta My Face
Or
A Rose By Any Other Name
Or
Extreme Peripheral
Or
Is That a Cowbell?
Or
You Said That The Lord, Jesus Christ Wants To Mug Me?
Or
Winter’s Coming
Or
Do It For Less
Or
Yes My Legs Are Great!
Or
My Friend Says That People ****!
Or
******* Rabbithole
Or
RabbitAss Hole Hole
Or
Dingbat!
Or
God the Couture Warned Me!
f Jan 2019
my,
it’s saturday, my 24th birthday is in exactly one week. that’s so  crazy. today i sang “somewhere over the rainbow” at a family funeral. it was one of the most peaceful funerals i’ve been to. i’m getting over a sickness right now and i’m starting to not feel as ****** even though it’s so weird.. my hearing is as if i have my ears plugged with my fingers and i’m talking aloud. all i can hear clearly is my voice, everything else is muffled. just a lot of sinus pressure, but i’m def over the worst of this particular virus. it was nice seeing and sitting next to my twin today. i took him home on my way home and saw where he’s living so that was also good. my favorite band weezer released a new teal album that’s composed of covers of many different classic, very recognizable, tracks. i love it of course. work is all right, but i can feel myself getting bored. perhaps it’s myself getting through this winter. this winter has been a little too long for my liking. even though the spring brings allergies, it brings SUN. and while i would prefer to be cold than hot... the sun brightens my heart and soul. and while i love all of earth’s creatures... i stand by 100% death to all mosquitoes. but who doesn’t love some allergy pills, h2o, and a lil mosquito repellant. oh! and chapstick. i’ll be house sitting in sugarhouse before my birthday, then finishing house sitting on my b day. then flying to ohio with mcd for his older brother’s wedding. then coming home on the 11th to chill before returning to work on tuesday. i think so, yeah...
my three beautiful kits are perfect as usual. tonight it’ll be a fun night with the bf and our friends playing vid games and sipping wine. before yet another work week. i still talk to my mom and dad every day, usually on my way to or from work. anyway. nap time.
1 - 26 - 19
Kim Johnson Jun 2014
Everyone's writing poem on wall,
for me it ws just a free from boredom call.
I wanted 2 write about somethg new,
But all I hav is d memories of u.

listening 2 Rihana's unfaithful,
thinking of u being regretful,
half burnt cigrette in my hand,
regretful vid ur absence in dis heart.

Missing every thing about u,
missing every day without u,
Dis stupid n awful heart of mine,
doesnt even knw how 2 liv n shine.

d way u kissed my neck 2 lips,
I was quenching ma lust vid ur mesmerizing kiss,
when u wispered dose three words,
Ur lov beside me, i can fight against d world.

What was ' I ' in ur happy life,
just a letter 2 fill between L n F,
u threw me out ven I needed u d most,
in ma own world I was lonely n lost.

To hav u back, I prayed 2 gods,
I wished upon stars,
I made hundred paper cranes,
But u never return bck 2 dis lanes.
Eunice Apr 2012
Fingers are pointed, talk is prevalent,
Blaming each other, but its slowly growing irrelevant,
This situation has gone past the moment of blame--
--everyone made their mistakes--
--they have to stop this game.

I used to care once, as the others did, but my
Energy was spent and
My will got a dent in it.
Walked in with every confident air, but now i am being ****** back in,
With no, legitimate, time, to spare.

Its time to press that button (emergency!) for outsiders, we see
          Their demise, the household
                 that        grew       to        a               di --vid --e

Bad energy, bad karma, whatever you want to call it
Seems that they have to just get on it.

But personal issues and psychological cracks,
Just seems to replace everything that they lack.
It's a "defend myself" game and
"You’re the one to blame", it’s:
| Shame | Stubbornness | Pain | Guilt |

All framed, in
The house that was supposed to be a haven
Is now a grave and I see the smokes of ****,
Rather than smokes of fury for
Inspiration and Desperation
To get out of this,
god,
forsaken,
place.

You can only say so much with so much
Conviction and not have experienced what
They have been living and yet,
Someone has to move.
Yet, no one moves.
One foots out the door--
--But then a hand pulls loose:
The walkway’s gone and now there’s no where to choose,
It’s back to negative 0, or wait, is it back more?

The only viable solution is to set aside the differences
And the egos, and pride, that's been dominating and winning,
Just to start over and say:
Hello, I’m not  a martyr, i’m just a
Kid in the adult world trying to survive harder
Than anyone else...
...I just want to live.

Believe me.

I had--have--been wishing for a dream.
Brown-tanned, and muscular
he leans against the wall  at
Senior Frogs, down on the tip
of the Yucatan, at the edge
of Cancun.

She is mad-- the rich-girl,  
college hottie.. who takes
the time out from her dancing
somewhere near the front of
the stage, and sultries over
with her best instagram-sashay
she could put together.

     "Everyone is looking at me but you"

Mhmm.. and take another chug of my Patrón.

     "What. You think you're too good for me?
     You've probably got old *****, anyways.."


And in an instant, I ***** slap
the whining little ****-boy
she calls a boyfriend

and then
**** the ever-loving dogshit  out of her
against the side of the stage--
the whole time, thinking about
how much more substance
a two-pump hit from a bottle of
Jergens and a quality **** vid
would bring  me

As back against that old wall
I stand.. enjoying the show.

She is staring at me now

no doubt,  she'll be bugging me
the whole rest of my trip.
Her friends come traipsing my way
because that's what friends do--
They become mesmerized..
and then  fixated-- wanting to ****
the guy their friends want to ****.
.

There is a Pharmacia on the corner
on my lone taxi ride back to the hotel.
Sergio pulls over, and I walk in...

The Jergens is near the back--
right next to my favorite Patrón.


ah, babe
when everybody loves you..  sometimes,
that's just about as ******-up as you can be

https://youtu.be/48sAQnRYMMo
god I love Mexico

xo
¡Oh tú, que inadvertido peregrinas
de osado monte cumbres desdeñosas,
que igualmente vecinas
tienen a las estrellas sospechosas,
o ya confuso vayas
buscando el Cielo, que robustas hayas
te esconden en las hojas,
o la alma aprisionada de congojas
alivies y consueles,
o con el vario pensamiento vueles
delante de esta peña tosca y dura,
que de naturaleza aborrecida
envidia de aquel prado la hermosura:
detén el paso y tu camino olvida,
y el duro intento, que te arrastra, deja,
mientras vivo escarmiento te aconseja!
En la que oscura ves, cueva espantosa,
sepulcro de los tiempos que han pasado,
mi espíritu reposa,
dentro en mi propio cuerpo sepultado,
pues mis bienes perdidos
sólo han dejado en mí fuego y gemidos,
victorias de aquel ceño
que, con la muerte, me libró del sueño
de bienes de la tierra,
y gozo blanda paz tras dura guerra,
hurtado para siempre a la grandeza,
al envidioso polvo Cortesano,
al inicuo poder de la riqueza,
al lisonjero adulador tirano.
¡Dichoso yo, que fuera de este abismo,
vivo me soy sepulcro de mí mismo!
Estas mojadas, nunca enjutas ropas,
estas no escarmentadas y deshechas
velas, proas y popas,
estos hierros molestos, estas flechas,
estos lazos y redes
que me visten de miedo las paredes,
lamentables despojos,
desprecio del naufragio de mis ojos,
recuerdos despreciados,
son, para más dolor bienes pasados.
Fue tiempo que me vio, quien hoy me llora,
burlar de la verdad y de escarmiento,
y ya, quiérelo Dios, llegó la hora,
que debo mi discurso a mi tormento:
ved cómo y cuán en breve el gusto acaba,
pues suspira por mí quien me envidiaba.
Aun a la muerte vine por rodeos,
que se hace de rogar, o da sus veces
a mis propios deseos;
mas ya que son mis desengaños jueces,
aquí solo conmigo
la angosta senda de los sabios sigo,
donde gloriosamente
desprecio la ambición de lo presente.
No lloro lo pasado,
ni lo que ha de venir me da cuidado,
y mi loca esperanza siempre verde,
que sobre el pensamiento voló ufana,
de puro vieja aquí su color pierde,
y blanca puede estar de puro cana.
Aquí, del primer hombre despojado,
descanso ya de andar de mí cargado.
Estos que han de beber, fresnos hojosos,
la roja sangre de la dura guerra;
estos olmos hermosos,
a quien esposa vid abraza y cierra
de la sed de los días,
guardan con sombras las corrientes frías;
y en esta dura sierra,
los agradecimientos de la tierra,
con mi labor cansada,
me entretienen la vida fatigada.
Orfeo del aire el Ruiseñor parece,
y ramillete músico el jilguero;
consuelo aquél en su dolor me ofrece;
éste, a mi mal, se muestra lisonjero;
duermo, por cama, en este suelo duro,
si menos blando sueño, más seguro.
No solicito el mar con remo y vela,
ni temo al Turco la ambición armada;
no en larga centinela,
al sueño inobediente, con pagada
sangre y salud vendida,
soy, por un pobre sueldo, mi homicida;
ni a fortuna me entrego,
con la codicia y la esperanza ciego,
por acabar diligente,
los peligros precisos del Oriente;
no de mi gula amenazada vive
la Fénix en Arabia temerosa,
ni a ultraje de mis leños apercibe
el mar su inobediencia peligrosa:
vivo como hombre, que viviendo muero
por desembarazar el día postrero.
Llenos de paz serena mis sentidos,
y la Corte del alma sosegada,
sujetos y vencidos
apetitos de la ley desordenada,
por límite a mis penas
aguardo que desate de mis venas
la muerte, prevenida
la alma que anudada está en la vida,
disimulando horrores
a esta prisión de miedos y dolores,
a este polvo soberbio y presumido,
ambiciosa ceniza, sepultura
portátil que conmigo la he traído,
sin dejarme contra hora segura.
Nací muriendo, y he vivido ciego,
y nunca al cabo de mi muerte llego.
Tú, pues, oh caminante que me escuchas,
si pretendes salir con la victoria
del monstruo con quien luchas,
harás que se adelante tu memoria
a recibir la muerte,
que oscura y muda viene a deshacerte.
No hagas de otro caso,
pues se huye la vida paso a paso;
y en mentidos placeres
muriendo naces, y viviendo mueres.
Cánsate ya, oh mortal, de fatigarte
en adquirir riquezas y tesoro,
que últimamente el tiempo ha de heredarte,
y al fin te dejarán la plata y oro:
vive para ti solo, si pudieres,
pues sólo para ti, si mueres, mueres.
Por el East River y el Bronx
los muchachos cantan enseñando sus cinturas,
con la rueda, el aceite, el cuero y el martillo.
Noventa mil mineros sacaban la plata de las rocas
y los niños dibujaban escaleras y perspectivas.Pero ninguno se dormía,
ninguno quería ser el río,
ninguno amaba las hojas grandes,
ninguno la lengua azul de la playa.Por el East River y el Queensborough
los muchachos luchaban con la industria,
y los judíos vendían al fauno del río
la rosa de la circuncisión
y el cielo desembocaba por los puentes y los tejados
manadas de bisontes empujadas por el viento.Pero ninguno se detenía,
ninguno quería ser nube,
ninguno buscaba los helechos
ni la rueda amarilla del tamboril.Cuando la luna salga
las poleas rodarán para turbar el cielo;
un límite de agujas cercará la memoria
y los ataúdes se llevarán a los que no trabajan.Nueva York de cieno,
Nueva York de alambres y de muerte.
¿Qué ángel llevas oculto en la mejilla?
¿Qué voz perfecta dirá las verdades del trigo?
¿Quién el sueño terrible de sus anémonas manchadas?Ni un solo momento, viejo hermoso Walt Whitman,
he dejado de ver tu barba llena de mariposas,
ni tus hombros de pana gastados por la luna,
ni tus muslos de Apolo virginal,
ni tu voz como una columna de ceniza;
anciano hermoso como la niebla
que gemías igual que un pájaro
con el **** atravesado por una aguja,
enemigo del sátiro,
enemigo de la vid
y amante de los cuerpos bajo la burda tela.
Ni un solo momento, hermosura viril
que en montes de carbón, anuncios y ferrocarriles,
soñabas ser un río y dormir como un río
con aquel camarada que pondría en tu pecho
un pequeño dolor de ignorante leopardo.Ni un sólo momento, Adán de sangre, macho,
hombre solo en el mar, viejo hermoso Walt Whitman,
porque por las azoteas,
agrupados en los bares,
saliendo en racimos de las alcantarillas,
temblando entre las piernas de los chauffeurs
o girando en las plataformas del ajenjo,
los maricas, Walt Whitman, te soñaban.¡También ese! ¡También!  Y se despeñan
sobre tu barba luminosa y casta,
rubios del norte, negros de la arena,
muchedumbres de gritos y ademanes,
como gatos y como las serpientes,
los maricas, Walt Whitman, los maricas
turbios de lágrimas, carne para fusta,
bota o mordisco de los domadores.¡También ése! ¡También!  Dedos
teñidos
apuntan a la orilla de tu sueño
cuando el amigo come tu manzana
con un leve sabor de gasolina
y el sol canta por los ombligos
de los muchachos que juegan bajo los puentes.Pero tú no buscabas los ojos arañados,
ni el pantano oscurísimo donde sumergen a los niños,
ni la saliva helada,
ni las curvas heridas como panza de sapo
que llevan los maricas en coches y terrazas
mientras la luna los azota por las esquinas del terror.Tú buscabas un desnudo que fuera como un río,
toro y sueño que junte la rueda con el alga,
padre de tu agonía, camelia de tu muerte,
y gimiera en las llamas de tu ecuador oculto.Porque es justo que el hombre no busque su deleite
en la selva de sangre de la mañana próxima.
El cielo tiene playas donde evitar la vida
y hay cuerpos que no deben repetirse en la aurora.Agonía agonía, sueño, fermento y sueño.
Éste es el mundo, amigo, agonía, agonía.
Los muertos se descomponen bajo el reloj de las ciudades,
la guerra pasa llorando con un millón de ratas grises,
los ricos dan a sus queridas
pequeños moribundos iluminados,
y la vida no es noble, ni buena, ni sagrada.Puede el hombre, si quiere, conducir su deseo
por vena de coral o celeste desnudo.
Mañana los amores serán rocas y el Tiempo
una brisa que viene dormida por las ramas.Por eso no levanto mi voz, viejo Walt Whítman,
entra el niño que escribe
nombre de niña en su almohada,
ni contra el muchacho que se viste de novia
en la oscuridad del ropero,
ni contra los solitarios de los casinos
que beben con asco el agua de la prostitución,
ni contra los hombres de mirada verde
que aman al hombre y queman sus labios en silencio.
Pero sí contra vosotros, maricas de las ciudades,
de carne tumefacta y pensamiento inmundo,
madres de lodo, arpías, enemigos sin sueño
del Amor que reparte coronas de alegría.Contra vosotros siempre, que dais a los muchachos
gotas de sucia muerte con amargo veneno.
Contra vosotros siempre,
Faeries de Norteamérica,
Pájaros de la Habana,
Jotos de Méjico,
Sarasas de Cádiz,
Apios de Sevilla,
Cancos de Madrid,
Floras de Alicante,
Adelaidas de Portugal.¡Maricas de todo el mundo, asesinos de palomas!
Esclavos de la mujer, perras de sus tocadores,
abiertos en las plazas con fiebre de abanico
o emboscadas en yertos paisajes de cicuta.¡No haya cuartel!  La muerte
mana de vuestros ojos
y agrupa flores grises en la orilla del cieno.
¡No haya cuartel! ¡Alerta!
Que los confundidos, los puros,
los clásicos, los señalados, los suplicantes
os cierren las puertas de la bacanal.Y tú, bello Walt Whitman, duerme a orillas del Hudson
con la barba hacia el polo y las manos abiertas.
Arcilla blanda o nieve, tu lengua está llamando
camaradas que velen tu gacela sin cuerpo.
Duerme, no queda nada.
Una danza de muros agita las praderas
y América se anega de máquinas y llanto.
Quiero que el aire fuerte de la noche más honda
quite flores y letras del arco donde duermes
y un niño ***** anuncie a los blancos del oro
la llegada del reino de la espiga.
this mere mortal frequently feels:
   a. like joost another brick in the wall
   or b. feels comfortably numb while alienated
   in this condemn nation
with the sounds of silence

   written on the virtual subway hall
n wishes he could escape
   (like that eponymous spoon
   running away with the tine e fork)
   2 the dark n far side of the moon
   jumping without Humpty Dumpty fear 2 fall.

joost as an *** side (wit me only intent 2 *** till late)
   let me playfully close this email by readily admitting
   that voluptuous women with plenty of junk in the trunk
   (or 2 employ more outdated term zoftig)
does readily prompt a top notch rating of google times ten

   for those queen of denial big a$$ bot tum gals
   who possess buxom build plus smart n able 2 understand
   how 2 cosign via trig
anyway, for your edification, i wish for nada qua non
   one snarling day vid growl joining me
   in monogamous ****** gig
which latter mental ability

might not in the least matter 2 moost men
unsure if my poetic reply you will find *** abominable bore
   or be prompt an oh bomb in a bull barrack 2 dig
   this common joe just biden his time
but in a nutshell with no intent to be impolite,

   mine eyes (no surprise nor insult meant)
favor gals whose ***** happens
   2 be outlandishly big
   in tandem to the searing roe bust english language,
   which this simian i.e. **** sapiens doth adore.

from::the fool on the hill, who lives along
abbey road near penny lane
across the street. Eleanor rigby, Mister Kite,
the virtual nay burrs o this human grain
plus Norwegian wood, the latter actually a great dane.

postscript:
words my (ahem) pen ultimate live aim
while trying 2 steer clear of reese sieving a wagging
   virtual finger in blame
neither at some fellow nor destitute dame

since chance circumstances of existence akin to being frozen
   in some space/time paradigms frame
attempting to extricate our selves playing lifelong game
which message offer in this poem rather lame.

email moi, which means
   applying cerebral muscles to flex
fire off a brief bull a tin i.e.
   preferably a brief text
    to TRACFONE NUMBER =
215---370--8929
Ken Pepiton May 2023
as I nearly slept, I nearly
rolled over in my bed, did not,
folded my hands, slumbered on
dreamlessly imagining signals hmmms
Massive
low
notes, accepted as receptible
by my phone with no reply request
acknowledge
accusatory story…, here, I see, okeh

Each sapien sapience, from the womb,
to final dust, despite the mounds of mud,

and opera, werks, shunning sweat,
rear up any child in the way one wishes
that child to grow, see, noble king
one must see those things one wishes
were true,
then rule,
be the head of state itself, the wedom
of all the subjective class, objects
deemed worthless but by thy
grrrace, grunting there is a hell. there is, there is
as it is said Christians must believe,
having as one prays, even now,
those needs, cast off all care,
imagine all debts, all paid,
no offering to prove it
needed, only be
left to see your own way, open eyes, a bitter taste,
aftertaste of wisdom, used as in a spirtual duel,
with a passle of powerful fools, unaware
of the rules, anointed, by truth, dare
prove all things, challenge
the persuader, offer bitter herbs with salt.
Salivate conditioned reflex,
some day all your enemies
feel your own self made up form of love,
and that loving burns their evil minds,
to useful illuminosity, before
catch, grip. holf if, see
ante-cipitates, make each look up,
pledge the believers every day,
good
to go,
so in time, as stages pass,
one knows, this is what my hand
has found to do.

In your service dear reader, thus far,
in our momentary now reality,
between our shared unreal pasts,
in the bubble of we, the people of earth,
attempting to buy the world a coke,
since a certain series of orange acid
during February and March, 1970-
- Chicago. Kesey and Wolfe
- fine weather, for a few days in March

ping vid mind adapts, yes, we re
member seeing something so close
to that exact day at that exact spot,
and the weather
was way worse.

but then I he(a)rd the songs of Mao,
being mys-tried, re sung once more as if
each line was free of debt to Lao Tze
no wei, no secret sacrosanction.
dedeMao, now.
b'n ice geeye ai ai - feel the power
lust right, the drill
will to…
w8
Impulse to cut and run, see a message,
make it stick to the bumper of your cat. Cat.
Tell the world what you are
catalogical,
sorted by did you not wish you knew
rearview, how much of that
do you know,
do you know once, we remember

I did, feel a signal, listen,
think I speak mammoth, listen

in fact, we all did, at the time,
we project that as impossible to prove\
reproof of construe-ition is the way of life
instruction in right use, upgrade scales
praxis co-knowing our each selfish in a
we as a wedom, awesome
by the way life lingers
on topological math,
see,
below the actual band width
of light, white
in the middle see the bones
of the bits, those are from stars,
photons ping touch /percepticons
see-ing
opposition in the future, met today,
hey hey hey
tell me what I say,
that ain't no way to pray,
I done said to each, ever lasting
misconcieved grand spirit of a movement
when the guts of goodnessakesknowswhat
is clogged in curses,
generational debt,
the ruler mind set,
to rob the rich, I was led,
daily I watched the Adventures
of Robin Hood, while I only saw Dragnet
once each week,
ethics of each occur in all boomers, as a wedom,
the first generation born after 1945,
sorted by standardized Dewey measures
of progress. toward becoming
community minded boys and girls,
destined to bring tomorrow by conforming
to the systematized sorting, grading on math
and language arts, then history and science,
then juris prudence for civilians, duty,
- team player drills daily, 40 minutes,
- extracurricular activity choices, weighed

current deception opens green receptors
for signals
to me sent, presently as a gift,
from the queen
of the south.

We assume the idea of gifts, tributes
to k'ki'kn'no'ings, legendary models,
magi conquerors who kept the roads free
of theives and babblers
of goodness only, used as sacramental
kindness made sacred,
bidding you have a mighty fine day.

- is that the Power Farm?
- Circa 1989, HyperCard, crazy easy coding.
- But not so easy as now, finally, harmony,
- knowledge was never what divided
- truth from multitudes of witnesses,
- globally aware more mass shooting than days
- to share with former saints in 2023, so far…
All ye
Religious spirits, little impulsive crossing, muttering
thankyou to the unknown god, higher power, el ultimo.

You know, Wisdom herself, given her due, trueee baby,
too true, knowledge is power, wisdom is might,
stand up, right, perpindicular to the true balance,
prepared, made ready to use thoughts abound,
and turn you around
on a low pressure gyre, rolling up Tornado Alley,
as you imagine it all connects.

It's that hard rain, the poets called,
a seeing from the old'ns,
son, ya got a good eye,

never hesitate to wink, and think, I can see,
should I ever need to give up an eye
for my life's comfortable ends, in mind, my
days of rest --ha, these, after a spectacular

reexamination of metaphors filled with crud,
as seen in plastic sacks of potatoes,
left to sprout and rot, in the dark,
not the slightest snakey lick
of seeing with infra-red, in your head, augmental
conjoining
click… serious speed of recognition instant
cognosis,
we both know, like in a Romcom, how- to movie,
shaping mindsets to put on while in rut.

Historically Christian Nationalist Roots, Cowboy way,
circa the informational slots we slipped by, ran away,

one bought a carnival, one bought charisma seeking,
one bought a vision
through the future to right now. Eh.

How oft must one reset such knowns as nouns,
and names of action words, love, fear, hate, lie, die

Did your mindset bid you challenge

Since 2016, I have my word, I swore, with fervor,
once more eternal hostility
to any form
of tyranny {outside-will control} ever imposed
upon the mind
of mankind, wombed or un, however we be
physically, there is none of that in Christ,
believe your rules of rights use.
Examine the faith that being apes,
who could signal names of things, Adamkind,
pre functional womb model.

He could name things, he could not make babies.
Adamkind, warrior breeds from olden days,
such as fight to entertain the mob in waiting,
fans for flames, founders kenning use
of passionate inflamation to provoke
good works, in the mind of the mob,

vicarious sons of deceiving reasons, come
to call my use of faith proves nothing real.

There are made men using God's name, in vain,
eh, it never works, but it is their religious duty
to think kingly, eh,
too ghuckingoodforoneself, we, Trumpians.
We believe,
we never imagine a war we can't make.

Or a set of actual conspiratorial winds,
with names, familiar spirits, returning winds,
infested with Saharan dust, where once were lush
gardens, back when Greenland was green,
or, so I heard/

Bham harumpharump feel the answer,
pick up the combover, so cool, no care, unaware,

- exposed to the expert in this warfare,
- symbolic marvelous armour,
- for pulling down strongholds, castles,
- silicon solid state preservation cast away
- war in the spirit with historical daemons,
- meeting the neo-Manicheans, word for word…
Ai ai, sir, yessir.
We won a mindtimespace precedent mind state writ,
with the entire child of Arpanet, my second wit,
ready writer motto,
use knowledge right, criticize your story,
sift solidity through cellular security,
finest flakes of self assurance, shine
on
and on as
knowns evil or good.. only the priest can call
foul or fair, there,
excuse you, lawyer
for the defense that there is no vicarage, no live
embodiment
of the intercessor between,
truth's way through life,
and the common dominion
of a certainty,
Your MOTHER IS
BY GOD, ALL CURSES, SHE's

the reason
for your father's rage, generational curses,
daddy wounds,
mommy deprivation, post partum. chaos

love, assuage
woe, soorry, Jesus. But, as has been widely
reported the business
of religion,
by exposing truth
pays a visible wage, shiny smile,
U joint versify,

if we may,
play in the code of life, past any inkling fear
of death,
ducks
in order, will and testament cleared,
read already, ready
to oppose, I suppose, am I.
Logically a state of mind, at the moment.

I callt the efficacy of faith
to call all the outs in.

So we see them on TV, they everywhere,
other people,
OH GOD, why must there be
other people,
oh, my, we may agree,
this answers that,
reasoning, by active faith,
usualized, made common sense.
Why would any sane lover of truth god,
create a forever for enemies of lies?
Belief in spirits opposing truth,
metaphors abound, Kriegspiel on coke,
the real thing, viewers imagine,
watching all the nobles
become naked, and as ugly as any among us.
We see the chins and hairlines in horses,
yet neglect to notice, mustang
herd management, as traits
adjust to new standards,
wild life reset to order.
We realize the riddle,
is the reason, we feel foolish and know it,
U knew, not me, forethought,
morphically resonating
peace, as on a gong
gone
normative,
adjustment bureau wise
sinner's bound in a doctrine
- cut to the gist, there is no sting in death.
- and teaching children to fear death is abuse
- of right authority granted parents
- of loved children, chosen ones, olden days.
Legendary warrior mind, allowed, only if
initiation allows exposure

the daysman lack-
no, look crosswise,'
stripes, whistle, dude
-see, there, the excuse, Job ttalked back.
And Yah, he say, you know, you got that right.
Heysus hisself, look at me he say, I'll go,

become the logical conclusion,
to a story where there was a flaw,
and time threatened to run out, but
the hero, ready to become the tool
to answer a malignant liar with his religion.
Job said to Yah,
you do not know how it feels to put on
a carnal  mind, set by God in Atom's right
to be first
to say this is that…
and one thing leads to another
- you feel the power without knowing
Mysteriously, you,
suddenly seem shy, thinking
how can I say what this is,
you have no right
to say a name Adam did not
say first, we say ****, you say poo,
******* artistic instinkty ways to say, not what
goes in,
corrupts, but what comes out sure can,
that's
gnosishit trustatistical fact according
to science
scent, pre
yours it stinks to, Jesus said.
Brush y'teeth, with Pepsodent to night, be
brite
- visible
knowledge is all good see, so we say we say
good riddle. fit for a king
prone to seek an interpreter of signs and sigils.

A trained cadre of bright boys, as runners,
or senders,
senders using drum and fife, to lead,
trumpet to send, and banners,
to rally round on our side,
whose sigil is that? Do we aid or raid
the edges, scavenge strategy
from the dead.
Live to tell, as I the lone survivor,
I who slew the king at his request, please
believe me
I never steer you to wrong.

Letters flow qwerty wise,
let it happen in the fingers fit to the task,

take a little walk, listen
to a story, sit a while and wish the
enemy were here to enjoy the ease,
beyond the bliss of ignoring,
past the weight worth standing under,
to the home imagined right in time
to finish in December, 2021, one thing
done.

Search any phrase of life, and find answers
to unasked questions, regard-iding lying done
id est as when it is, totally Scriptural moral- wise
right in such a time as once

when some liars who held fast to prophesy
hired the guy who rode the wild ***,
which cognosisadictattenti sorts say
the darnedest things, strecht
stitch in time
Art of Linking Letters, Art Linkletter,
as regular a lunchtime mind flush with a chuckle
and nod at the secrets children can
claim to publicly believe, but ….

the link was to the stay-at-home mom,
not her peer's latch-key kids in allegiance prep,
who get home each day,
for a solo home run heads up on,

who did what on the news, since last night.
Wait, when did Kid Parrett buy the farm,
for more lasting fame than many
in the game, of vicarious triggerers of revenge
reaction, action ready
wha, wham
I a,am sh…za'am is a real rebbiwort, glaubtgut
Jesus
do u read Seuss, still, a quest, mark, take,
leave, ask best bet, take
chance…
look away. Beulah land,
then Beulah see, wise black nanny guide from non-
nodded off, witty, pretty sweety Mary
poppin' clap off pop
stand and deliver, let it be
sistarepistol packin' mama, whoa
Sister,
I did not think to ask, have you been this far? Before?
993 maybe, but the next seven are done. I am stopping, long enough,
to make some money some how... eee-odle eee dee hee,
I may be back again by summer.
anonym Nov 2013
Og som jeg forestiller mig fremtiden
Overvældes jeg af en kvalmende følelse
Jeg vil ingen anden end dig
Lad mig blive gammel
mens jeg ligger på dit bryst
Og lytter til lyden af dine rolige åndedrag
Tanken om at du måske en dag
Ikke er her længere
Får tårerne til at krybe frem
Min mave snorer sig sammen
Prøver at glemme tanken
Men det er for sent
De snurrer rundt og gør mig svimmel
Jeg troede aldrig at jeg ville blive så
Involveret i dig
Du skræmmer mig
Fra vid og sans
Vær sød ikke at knuse mit hjerte
Fabio, las esperanzas cortesanas
Prisiones son do el ambicioso muere
Y donde al más astuto nacen canas.

El que no las limare o las rompiere,
Ni el nombre de varón ha merecido,
Ni subir al honor que pretendiere.

El ánimo plebeyo y abatido
Elija, en sus intentos temeroso,
Primero estar suspenso que caído;

Que el corazón entero y generoso
Al caso adverso inclinará la frente
Antes que la rodilla al poderoso.

Más triunfos, más coronas dio al prudente
Que supo retirarse, la fortuna,
Que al que esperó obstinada y locamente.

Esta invasión terrible e importuna
De contrario sucesos nos espera
Desde el primer sollozo de la cuna.

Dejémosla pasar como a la fiera
Corriente del gran Betis, cuando airado
Dilata hasta los montes su ribera.

Aquel entre los héroes es contado
Que el premio mereció, no quien le alcanza
Por vanas consecuencias del estado.

Peculio propio es ya de la privanza
Cuanto de Astrea fue, cuando regía
Con su temida espada y su balanza.

El oro, la maldad, la tiranía
Del inicuo procede y pasa al bueno.
¿Qué espera la virtud o qué confía?

Ven y reposa en el materno seno
De la antigua Romúlea, cuyo clima
Te será más humano y más sereno.

Adonde por lo menos, cuando oprima
Nuestro cuerpo la tierra, dirá alguno:
«Blanda le sea», al derramarla encima;

Donde no dejarás la mesa ayuno
Cuando te falte en ella el pece raro
O cuando su pavón nos niegue Juno.

Busca pues el sosiego dulce y caro,
Como en la obscura noche del Egeo
Busca el piloto el eminente faro;

Que si acortas y ciñes tu deseo
Dirás: «Lo que desprecio he conseguido;
Que la opinion ****** es devaneo».

Más precia el ruiseñor su pobre nido
De pluma y leves pajas, más sus quejas
En el bosque repuesto y escondido,

Que halagar lisonjero las orejas
De algun príncipe insigne; aprisionado
En el metal de las doradas rejas.

Triste de aquel que vive destinado
A esa antigua colonia de los vicios,
Augur de los semblantes del privado.

Cese el ansia y la sed de los oficios;
Que acepta el don y burla del intento
El ídolo a quien haces sacrificios.

Iguala con la vida el pensamiento,
Y no le pasarás de hoy a mañana,
Ni quizá de un momento a otro momento.

Casi no tienes ni una sombra vana
De nuestra antigua Itálica, y ¿esperas?
¡Oh error perpetuo de la suerte humana!

Las enseñas grecianas, las banderas
Del senado y romana monarquía
Murieron, y pasaron sus carreras.

¿Qué es nuestra vida más que un breve día
Do apena sale el sol cuando se pierde
En las tinieblas de la noche fría?

¿Qué más que el heno, a la mañana verde,
Seco a la tarde? ¡Oh ciego desvarío!
¿Será que de este sueño me recuerde?

¿Será que pueda ver que me desvío
De la vida viviendo, y que está unida
La cauta muerte al simple vivir mío?

Como los ríos, que en veloz corrida
Se llevan a la mar, tal soy llevado
Al último suspiro de mi vida.

De la pasada edad ¿qué me ha quedado?
O ¿qué tengo yo, a dicha, en la que espero,
Sin ninguna noticia de mi hado?

¡Oh, si acabase, viendo cómo muero,
De aprender a morir antes que llegue
Aquel forzoso término postrero;

Antes que aquesta mies inútil siegue
De la severa muerte dura mano,
Y a la común materia se la entregue!

Pasáronse las flores del verano,
El otoño pasó con sus racimos,
Pasó el invierno con sus nieves cano;

Las hojas que en las altas selvas vimos
Cayeron, ¡y nosotros a porfía
En nuestro engaño inmóviles vivimos!

Temamos al Señor que nos envía
Las espigas del año y la hartura,
Y la temprana pluvia y la tardía.

No imitemos la tierra siempre dura
A las aguas del cielo y al arado,
Ni la vid cuyo fruto no madura.

¿Piensas acaso tú que fue criado
El varón para rayo de la guerra,
Para surcar el piélago salado,

Para medir el orbe de la tierra
Y el cerco donde el sol siempre camina?
¡Oh, quien así lo entiende, cuánto yerra!

Esta nuestra porción, alta y divina,
A mayores acciones es llamada
Y en más nobles objetos se termina.

Así aquella que al hombre sólo es dada,
Sacra razón y pura, me despierta,
De esplendor y de rayos coronada;

Y en la fría región dura y desierta
De aqueste pecho enciende nueva llama,
Y la luz vuelve a arder que estaba muerta.

Quiero, Fabio, seguir a quien me llama,
Y callado pasar entre la gente,
Que no afecto los nombres ni la fama.

El soberbio tirano del Oriente
Que maciza las torres de cien codos
Del cándido metal puro y luciente

Apenas puede ya comprar los modos
Del pecar; la virtud es más barata,
Ella consigo misma ruega a todos.

¡Pobre de aquel que corre y se dilata
Por cuantos son los climas y los mares,
Perseguidor del oro y de la plata!

Un ángulo me basta entre mis lares,
Un libro y un amigo, un sueño breve,
Que no perturben deudas ni pesares.

Esto tan solamente es cuanto debe
Naturaleza al simple y al discreto,
Y algún manjar común, honesto y leve.

No, porque así te escribo, hagas conceto
Que pongo la virtud en ejercicio:
Que aun esto fue difícil a Epicteto.

Basta al que empieza aborrecer el vicio,
Y el ánimo enseñar a ser modesto;
Después le será el cielo más propicio.

Despreciar el deleite no es supuesto
De sólida virtud; que aun el vicioso
En sí propio le nota de molesto.

Mas no podrás negarme cuán forzoso
Este camino sea al alto asiento,
Morada de la paz y del reposo.

No sazona la fruta en un momento
Aquella inteligencia que mensura
La duración de todo a su talento.

Flor la vimos primero hermosa y pura,
Luego materia acerba y desabrida,
Y perfecta después, dulce y madura;

Tal la humana prudencia es bien que mida
Y dispense y comparta las acciones
Que han de ser compañeras de la vida.

No quiera Dios que imite estos varones
Que moran nuestras plazas macilentos,
De la virtud infames histriones;

Esos inmundos trágicos, atentos
Al aplauso común, cuyas entrañas
Son infaustos y oscuros monumentos.

¡Cuán callada que pasa las montañas
El aura, respirando mansamente!
¡Qué gárrula y sonante por las cañas!

¡Qué muda la virtud por el prudente!
¡Qué redundante y llena de ruido
Por el vano, ambicioso y aparente!

Quiero imitar al pueblo en el vestido,
En las costumbres sólo a los mejores,
Sin presumir de roto y mal ceñido.

No resplandezca el oro y los colores
En nuestro traje, ni tampoco sea
Igual al de los dóricos cantores.

Una mediana vida yo posea,
Un estilo común y moderado,
Que no lo note nadie que lo vea.

En el plebeyo barro mal tostado
Hubo ya quien bebió tan ambicioso
Como en el vaso múrrimo preciado;

Y alguno tan ilustre y generoso
Que usó, como si fuera plata neta,
Del cristal transparente y luminoso.

Sin la templanza ¿viste tú perfeta
Alguna cosa? ¡Oh muerte! ven callada,
Como sueles venir en la saeta,

No en la tonante máquina preñada
De fuego y de rumor; que no es mi puerta
De doblados metales fabricada.

Así, Fabio, me muestra descubierta
Su esencia la verdad, y mi albedrío
Con ella se compone y se concierta.

No te burles de ver cuánto confío,
Ni al arte de decir, vana y pomposa,
El ardor atribuyas de este brío.

¿Es por ventura menos poderosa
Que el vicio la virtud? ¿Es menos fuerte?
No la arguyas de flaca y temerosa.

La codicia en las manos de la suerte
Se arroja al mar, la ira a las espadas,
Y la ambición se ríe de la muerte.

Y ¿no serán siquiera tan osadas
Las opuestas acciones, si las miro
De más ilustres genios ayudadas?

Ya, dulce amigo, huyo y me retiro
De cuanto simple amé; rompí los lazos.
Ven y verás al alto fin que aspiro,
Antes que el tiempo muera en nuestros brazos.
Sa Sa Ra Nov 2012
in the dark
she was love
she was kind
she was sweet
she was gentle
she was a little wine
she was one best friend
she too was a very friendly sister
in the dark with vid cams and mics
and still and still and still it was dark dark
and we were left alone in the dark and as i was in the dark
with the sister alone long before i had at all known and it made me wonder
about life in the darkness
beyond our online world
coming home in the dark
RosesAndAngels May 2016
Watchin NCIS while eating fishticks, I decided to check my skype with just two clicks. Upon entering the domain, I found myself in a talk of pain. First of poisoned pizza, and knifes, and even earlier the fantasy wife's. Not too soon I learn to ignore the vid, rick and morty, I soon realized it was 10 40,                                                                            
      The meme world ruled by the fabulous, King Ash, was honestly made of a **** ton of trash.
**** ME
Rezium Mar 2020
Life will continue and time will pass.
Like Vid-19
You'll only be remembered in class.
Mentioned in the worst ways and times.
¿Te acuerdas de tu hermano?
I'll hesitate and say I remember the time i spent contemplating if I'd ever get you or not.

I get it but why?
Leaving me a responsibility I never asked for.
He's mad and sad,
Doesn't even consider that fact I'm passed out
Blacked out
Crossed now
Passed out
Lost now
Rad.
Doesn't even know the blood forbade the name engraved, he was enslaved to and will change to a new.

Though it won't stay the same, I still hold the title and torch.
The one I'm expected to hold high with pride!
I won't let you down
But i will to him.

I'm sorry all we have is a blurred photo together and that all you could hear was gibberish from my mouth.
But know I love you.
Thick or thin
11.1.19.
Sorry brother...
Kim Johnson Jun 2014
I was a jolly girl of spring,
Happiness is what I always bring,
My sadness surrounds only me,
It was a trouble so no one sees....

One night when I was sitting alone,
A tiny droplet of tear sadly blown,
I asked it's name n the owner,
Tear was frightened n sat in the corner...

I took it up and kissed those tears,
They smiled at me And forgot those fears,
I told them don't be afraid of me,
I will be your owner and u stay vid me...

Now they often come to meet,
Secretly come without any deed,
I can't get rid of it from ma eyes,
I can't forget them even if I tries...
Tengo una sed de vinos capitosos
-venusino furor, pugnas salaces,
ojos enloquecidos por el éxtasis,
bocas ebrias, frenéticos enlaces-.

Tú, Dinarzada, tú, Fogosa Mía,
tú, Melusina, Vid de mis Deseos:

¡dóname tu lagar tibio y recóndito!
quiero oprimir tus uvas! y tus vinos
exprimir! -fulgurante filtro cálido
para mi sed de zumos citereos! 1Tengo una sed de búdicos nirvanas
-zahareño no oír, callada acidia,
ojos enceguecidos por el éxtasis,
espiritual ardor, psíquica lidia-.

Tú, Viaje Azul, Deliquio, Noche Intacta,
Música..., oh tú, mi inasequible Dueño:

¡llévame a tus refugios ataráxicos!
quiero tañer tus fibras! y el prodigio
de tu entraña exprimir! -don inefable
para mi sed de fugas y de ensueño!
Jenny Gordon Dec 2018
...on my head --that should do us both good since YOU're not keen on aught knowing YOU love me too.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMDXXVII)


O madness of these dolls my niece'd avail
Herself of cuz they're popular and thence
What aught who'd buy her favour purchase hence,
(Where I was far too poor to dream in frail
Excuse of any such things in betrayl,
When I was just a child)! The vid'os' sense
Of, well erm, foolish joy in these--pretense,
I cannot even like the dolls to scale.
Nor did adulthood change my view as twere.
Goodwill in lieu of e'en the mall MY cue,
They all look now askance at me in tour,
My peers thus none too blind.  What did I do?
Or wherefore is't I'm on the fringe, 'til YOUR
Love is a marvel none explain, O YOU?

23Nov18a
A child of the mad 80's, oh my! the toys they had for Generation X!  Mum got me Ginny dolls cuz that's what she'd enjoyed, and some baby dolls too.  But I'm not sorry we didn't have YouTube to tell us how to be.
Linda Regia! Tus venas son fermentos
de mi no ser antiguo y del champaña
***** de mi vivir!
Tu cabello es la ignota raicilla
del árbol de mi vid.
Tu cabello es la hilacha de una mitra
de ensueño que perdí!
Tu cuerpo es la espumante escaramuza
de un rosado jordán;
y ondea, como un látigo beatifico
que humillara a la víbora del mal!
Tus brazos dan la sed de lo infinito,
con sus castas hespérides de luz,
cual dos blancos caminos redentores,
dos arranques murientes de una cruz.
Y están plasmados en la sangre invicta
de mi imposible azul! Tus pies son dos heráldicas alondras
que eternamente llegan de mi ayer!
Linda Regial Tus pies son las dos lágrimas
que al bajar del Espíritu ahogué,
un Domingo de Ramos que entré al Mundo,
ya lejos para siempre de Belén!

— The End —