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Robin Carretti Aug 2018
This is far from a
car S-p-a--C-y
Oh! My? Crossover traveler
The Phyton
Top of the rank
collision-course
New job space
planning tech magic cursor

Magical Podcast*

Do we have space
Sci-Fi-Hi Meeting
Googling creating playing
Cheating Overexaggerating
And faking our
(dead)lines

Not meeting our deadlines
What is the right time?
Spacewalking on the yellow brick
the road you are my sunshine*
"Million light years away from being rich"?

     Lucy in the Sky
       LSD-Little space devil
No/space for Jack the shinning
of diamonds, this isn't Oz
Emerald City or spin-off

Climb the ladder space objects clutter
Posh-Rich Witch is which
The last epidemic standup comic

Crawling having a ball Spalding

That Spiderwomen kvetch
Wolftie face switched
Fox lies moms moon pies
The collision of the moon
Space monkey baboon
The equation or burning
Sun people in devastation

Magic God

What time holds the
Mass control Einstein the professor
The brain exploding stars
Study hall those equations

In Princeton New Jersey
Those tiny particles lost in space
This corporation division
*
Space Between_

*Hard paper scissors and
Mr. Rock

It's time to money pound
The Big Ben clock
"Do we act like the only
one on this planet"                  
The Singularity
The multiplicity
The burning sun
*
War of the Military
Hot fun "Twin City"
Medieval twin planets

She's brace-space and he's
Well known physic
energy flowing one
step beyond collision of '
     Two Gods"

Magic space-lotus love of "Venus_
Pond

The Mall of America Star Spangle Banner
Next International flight became a winner

Plants and animals
The primal magic
Catching the
planets there both
emerging
The submerging eye
Space-out engaging

The civilization nightmare
On the cusp right here
Martian stripe and stars
Wipeout species of mars
Gravitatious collide of lovers
Confused about earthlings
More siblings another planet colliding

Like a space odyssey ground control to
      "Major Tom"
Fe fi fun on space run
Our Earth Mondadori
Spicy pleasure taste for
Chicken Tandoori
Magical dish
Make a wish

Magic hands believing

Metagalactic space and time
Holy God realistic
Osprey someone is the prey
In the movie magical classic
Breakfast at Tiffanys
Holiday mind dressed up window
"Out of our comfort zone
eating to the end twilight zone widow"

The extra enchanted evening
For the Moms only
Our heads over space
heels hit the ceiling

Eggs Benedict, the salt wasn't kosher
Artsy Audrey Hepburn don't push her

Celestial Ocean Space Steven Universe
The Christmas madness sale
Poison Ivy Pointsetta what
a vendetta
Interstellar meeting her
new race feeling out of place
Adulation like a prosecution
Space collide anytime
can explode

Two worlds become tragic
Space station not a game
A haunting catastrophic
Collision Titanic ship

Magically got more modified
Needing a space program the
spy to identify  

Dragonfly to Madame Butterfly
Space of magic crime-space
All spots, not Dalmatian
Space wings set up for Superman
Magic fan rising adrenaline
Monster cookies for Madeline

Fire and Ice Global warming
wildfires now the collision
On another planet warning
Miracle blessing of magic
Someone before or after
just to touch them

We cannot stop this craziness
The outburst goes pop the weasel

Magic place portal
Something in the way
to crumble like a baby
firstborn rocking her cradle

The curiosity space philosophy
Like breed of cats,
Licking tongue envelope
The cats eye Egyptian
Terrified space milk the tabby
Meeting my space hubby

Microscopic became two dots .-.
Space became a new buried plot
Is this all I got Twitter
Home run ball and
New York Dodgers
Brooklyn bat *******

So compelled to the computer
Designed the Rover robot lover
Magical Elton John
wedding
space planner
Across the Universe
John Lennon
Bennie and the Jets
Like a science
Teacher's pets

Eyes spaced out the magic place within**
So sacred magic hat Rabbit
Mountain bear Airspace Hobbit
Roll over Beethoven
The dog bone playing space I tunes

The spaceship magic
fingers piano
Plays one enchanted evening
Let me see the beautiful
new awakening
When Robin sings
Her magical wand
Lights up the world
of hands magical awaits

Remember "A Poem" can be magic
Collison in Space or Good earth how do we collide into one another planet some fire exposed in our words can we change the way we feel we collide again but what happens when our planets collide
onlylovepoetry Jul 2017
she returns from her classes,
ballet, yoga, core something and Zumba for flavoring,
her hair, an upward, toe pointing cannon of mop mess,
her face glowing flushed,
one look and I know she is both,
morphing high,
wipeout exhausted

a little ritual she performs somewhere between
"it was great and she (the instructor) killed us,"
auto sub conscious,
she looks herself over,
twisting elegantly like the
Argentine tango dancer she is,
in the mirrored closet doors

raising both arms to see (show off)
the sums of her endeavors,
the exoskeletal musculature
she has earned,
a life long effort,
like a prize fighter as he
macho enters the ring,
an alpha male gesture
if ever there was one,
made over to say,
hey boy, look at me!

and the boy looks her over,
always thinking, but never revealing,
that it is her muscles of mindfulness and mercy,
that take his breath away, the ones that are worked out daily,
the ones that surround and work the heart beating,
the lung inhaler of humans in need,
exhaling the richest
oxygen for others to breathe

and the boy does his service,
providing a "wow" or "very impressive,"
only you and he know his real thinking,
and his muscle memories secret,
you to keep, just between us,
and his secret identity, only love poetry...


8:52pm 7/20/17
Mark Bell Sep 2017
Sitting on the Evil wall
Debating with myself
Shall I give good a call.
Communication a wipeout,
A septic flaw,
How can one love?
When you can't be sure.
I sit on the wall
With a wide arsed grin
Demons with Sabres  start
to be riotous within,
all I have to do is to make the call
Yet its another wipeout
Hana Belanger Apr 2016
When the words first came out of his mouth I was squeezing her hand
My brain was in jeopardy of knocking down the very last domino to the apocalypse
Our tongues paralyzed
Our hearts pizza dough being thoroughly kneaded with Titanium knuckles
Organs being scrunched up like those As Seen On TV pocket garden hoses
Then a small shy sound is heard inside my cranium
A quivering voice shyly saying
"May, it can't be that bad. It's just like Surfing. Surfing in the wipeout zone"
That one timid voice paused all chaos
Each domino standing back up,
Resuming its natural and rightful spot
I turned to Morgan and smiled a big goofy grin
And as I grinned I said
"Morgan, love, it's just like surfing. And I know there is no board that you can't ride."
She then looked back up at me and laughed.
"Okay then. Come on, the ocean is waiting for us."
Morgan paddled out into the calm ocean and there was no hesitance to start the wild ride that we she embarked on
Because we knew that it couldn't wait.
It took months before balancing became manageable, for that's what eight rounds of chemotherapy can do to a person
Like oxygen corroding the Statue of Liberty in the rough rain storms of New York
And as much of a rigorous athlete she was, she could not avoid the first gnarly tidal wave, or those following in its footsteps
And then there was the last wave that glided into a series of tubes. At any moment she could collapse within
I remember in the break between the first and second tubes our wishes were granted
We were married in the tiny chapel inside the hospital.
And I kissed her
I kissed her radioactive lips and her puffy steroid chipmunk cheeks
I hugged and caressed her bony body with tubes all attached
I kissed her for the last time
In the third tube, right before her eternal coma she asked me a question.
"I had to wipe out sometime didn't I?"
I wept a monsoon on months end
When it was suggested to terminate life support , through barrels of tears I nodded only thinking about that one question.
Yes Morgan. Yes.
"You had a good run" I say holding her hand as her monitor went beep beeep beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
I do not have a wife. This is just a fictious poem created whem I was talking with my zebra friends. True element in this poem will not be named for privacy of friend.
Omar Kawash Aug 2014
In a hammock
On the eve of final exams
There is a scent of caffeine coursed bodies pacing
the distances of Starbucks and the library,
an unusual sight at eleven at night

There is peace
In the fraternity- I think begins with a Sigma-
running around playing a vicious thirty person game of tag
Yeah, I witnessed that wipeout and it was hilarious

There is heat condensed around the height of brains
Struggling to realize dreams that require
Busy work man! It's just like six hours of nonstop busy work
The guy on the bench behind me whined out cooling breath of brown leaves

There is energy in the fractal jungle above
The towering umbrellas of Palm trees which grant me the magic of hovering
I see through waving leaves Orion's Belt.
The light pollution overpowers his body but
he reminds me that there is more in the astral world

Ibis scour the ground
Some would read the tea leaves
that bravest of birds has crossed my path
And I will survive the tests that I allow to define possibilities in life

There is closure to my left
Two girls in a hammock, bodies combined like a turtle in a shell
Only they know what goes on inside,
and all I witness is the harmony that the trials that students go through that unites
I wrote this last final exam season (Spring 2014). I decided it's worthy time to post it as my last day as an undergrad with my last final today. Cheers to the best years of my life. May you see the beauty in challenges too.
EDIT: Spring 2015 finals are upon students. And UM had the audacity to remove the hammocks that were so representative of finals season. Now, they have bean bags. This now feels more like an elegy for a time that once was. Ending my possible rant here.
Yazad Tafti Jul 2020
rip all my hairs out hoping they access a brain cell to help me wipe my memory like a shaun white, snow tidal wipeout

strand by strand hoping to find a destresser to pull the plug of my brain's photobooks

you catalyze my grief and a cobweb nostalgia
silk an admired commodity yet **** out by a creature who has it handed to it at aggregated birth

stuck in this mess
but i have my fist clenched around a web which is as adhesive as a 48 hour hardened glue

glued to you but i'm acetone fused and it's only a serum's distance to an isle of distant cries , haunting melodies of  f# major vocal hymns and

a sand filled paradise where wild life flies and quick sand awaits to offer a gorgeous, satin, embodiment of warmth.

yours deceivingly..

that good old horrendous feeling
ASSetone
i drift these gravel roads
till i run into crossroads.

i pick each path
as if im a psychopath.

drifting my feelings away
till i lay to stay.

every road is like a coded.
everyday im reminded

day or night
im drifting without a fright

despite the midnight
i fly-by-night

i do me
carefree

before i crash
in a flash.

as im drifting
im hurting

there's only one way out
without a doubt

im going to strikeout
with a wipeout.

rided or die
it's going to be a carryout!
P Holten Feb 2018
He asked if he could hang with me.
I laughed at his cockiness.
That kid had ‘cojones’ at 15 years old.
I knew he was one of us.

Living legends like Laird Hamilton and Dave Kalama,
Death by wipeout for Mark Foo and Kirk Pasmore,
Myths we’ve become, epics we populate.
We are few.  We are large.

What drives our destiny?
Do we smell it and follow its scent?
Do its tentacles embrace us softly?
Favored or cursed we’ll never know.

The chase for that 80 footer
may look like Ahab’s hunt for Moby
but no hatred courses through our veins.
Life grips our heart and we love.

You reporters follow us, watch us, listen to us.
Can you understand that the waves rule our lives,
their frothy exhale lures us,
their saltwater avalanche embraces us ?

Sting rays, Man o’ Wars, jelly fish
stirred into the danger soup with sea and sand,
bones, sinews, flesh, our offering,
pain fashions no leash to choke our pursuit.

Mavericks, Teahuppo, Jaws, Pipeline, Cyclops:
where razor sharp coral lie in wait,
where Great Whites stealthily roam,
where the board delivers primal union.

Ah, the waves - pounding, churning, roaring.
I paddle the face, rise up over the crest,
catch the lip, drop into the maw,
50 miles an hour through the monster barrel.

Does the joy at childbirth, the euphoria of ******,
the bliss of nirvana match the rush of the wave?
Is the steep price we pay worth it?
Can there be a cost too high for heaven?

You will laugh at me like I laughed at the kid
when I claim we are a band of brothers.
Our conflict takes place within ourselves;
blood spilled from our veins an anointing.

The kid’s eyes expose a hunger not satisfied,
a restless yearning to uncover his truth.
The ocean ministers his baptism;
an innocent courage powers his crusade.

My ride ended some years ago.
I should have bailed out
but I thought I was ripping the wave.
Hospital ceiling proved me wrong.

My muscles still now, no tracking big swells,
no taming the wild beast , no testing my luck,
yet the ribosomes, nucleus, cytoplasm of my cells
host the waves. The kid knows.
Jill Aug 16
Scarpered for the siren liquor
Shame-seared claret cheeks
Lost to time and regulation
Found by terrified relation
Taught that gravity was quicker
Supine in the streets

Too pie-eyed for interventions
Fuddled buccaneer
Too aware for rectifiers
No relief with pacifiers
Banished now for contraventions
No more welcome here

Therein lies the contradiction
Tricksy elbow-******
You designed this cunning passport
Teamed constabulary transport
Speedy coveted eviction
Purposeful offender

Now we nurse the convalescent
Scarring quips ignore
Dodging pleading, wounding protest
Culpable without an inquest
Feeling without feel-depressant
Pain-drink tug-of-war

Where to put our damaged kindred
Languishing in grief
Ductile truth in glass distended
Remedies are not extended
Therapies are judgement-tinted
Distanced from relief

Imminent familiar wipeout
Nowhere safe to be
Don’t do as the doc suggested
Cede to being bottle-bested
Bottle-lock in private hideout
Throw away the key
©2024
Classy J Sep 2016
Going crazy, you’re words don’t faze me; I remember when growing up was as easy as driving Ms. Daisy. Been moving up lately, flying like the birds, man my stock be going up greatly. Lying awake, making myself a protein shake, working around the clock, I don’t think anything in life is a mistake. Making other rappers green with envy, is it a sin to be deadly? Not here to be friendly, hit you like a semi, might as well give me that Grammy. Ready, set, go, this is just elementary, got the wit, and you better bet my flow succeeds Excellency. Busting through the knot, love the fight, learned a lot despite everything, I’m still blowing up like dynamite. This wasn’t just done overnight, took a lot to get going, now I’m here holding my own, yeah that towel I’m not about to throw-in. Got the skill and the will, no fear, no need for a loan, destiny I will fulfill. Can’t deny my credibility, not just your average guy, got a natural ability that I apply to turn those blind eyes. Not one to deny, not some small fry, me oh my, establishment I will defy. So stand by, not about to comply, so to simplify, I testify that I will intensify people’s once unheard battle cry. Bout to bring the ruckus, don’t like it you can **** ***; I won’t sit here idle and let you continue your injustice. Not a fan of this monotonous spiral, for supposedly advanced beings we still act primal. Want to be a model, stop that vicious cycle, leave your denial, and then maybe there is a chance for humanity’s revival. These moments we use are precious, don’t drop the ball, and burn the wrong bridges. Sometimes you can be your biggest opponent, lie’s are potent, they will leave you broken, don’t believe the words that were spoken previously or in the moment. Never limit yourself, keep up a positive spirit, you are better than those jealous bigots. It’s not illicit to be you, after review, even though I may not know you, I don’t think you smell like mildew. I think to be you, is to be true, and if someone doesn’t like you, it’s their loss, not your fault that they have a distorted view. Anyone can love or hate, take this as a grain of salt, but just remember that you are the keeper of your hearts gate. Never doubt, there will be seasons of drought, it will get better, just stay patient, you will one day break out. Don’t have hesitation, don’t become complacent, keep a dedication to getting out of unhealthy situations.  You just need the right motivation, keep away from running towards short term fixes like medication. I don’t want to weep at your funeral, stay clean; any soul can be renewable. Life goes up and down like a trampoline; some things can be unforeseen, which can drag you down deep waters like a submarine.  So be careful in the battleground, it is not a playground; you certainly can’t fool around, for if you do you can end up underground.  Don’t give in, don’t be fearful, though at the moment it seems like you have no control and are in peril. Never settle for less, unclutter your mess, and release all your tension and stress. Never doubt; depression you will beat out, call the auto-bots because it’s time to roll out. Never rule out yourself man, you can work this out, yeah dude you just need a plan. Got to do the homework, file everything into groups like a network. Don’t let things keep you in the dark, become the spark and take out the devilish shark. Never doubt, not a time to black out, not a time to freak out, I believe this darkness can be forced out. Never doubt, never become a sell out, darkness we have to ***** out. Never doubt, before you go head first, you better map it out. Never question if you’re normal or if you’re cursed, demons we shall divorce.  Never doubt, let it out, work it out, don’t worry if every now and again you wipeout. Never doubt, before you say something you should play it out in your head, finish the things bothering you and put it to bed.
pj May 2016
Be ready for the eruption
Be ready for the wipeout

For we humans are mere mortal
Death is always but far

Be ready for the cleansing
Be ready for the disaster

And as you walk out that door
Know that the Grim is passing by


Unlucky are you who did not discern
The signs of the time ending
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2018
could this interlude, have possibly been
an a.i. experiment?
             let's face it,
   i can't remember the last time i played
games, drunk...
    but then i did grow up with playstation UNE
and didn't concern myself much further...
but i was in a waiting line for
the past week or so...
    and i thought that i'd relax...
    well: esp. if it's a multiplayer game -
WAR ROBOTS -
                     and while everyone was
fighting - and the prize was:
to hold the beacons for the majority
of time...
                    so i walked my Galihad to
an empty space...
            and, well: we won...
                i'll say another thing:
                my mother loved Tetris -
which probably translates as Candy Crush
saga these days...
               i don't mind...
               gaming used to be a very Saturday
morning ritual for me...
              i even did homework on Friday
nights, ****!
        - but gaming has changed so much -
for one i don't remember playing
games drunk - with a backache -
soothed by 250mg of Naproxen -
               but then again:
last time i gamed was when i was a school...
     but it started bugging me -
  the 502 & 504 errors -
   so i bid on a gamble:
               is this about filtering automatons?
you know, like entering text akin to:
no grammatical structure?
           i said to myself:
   you've been waiting for about 2 weeks
to finally get that white piece of pixel -
do something that is counter-intuitive...
   so i read about the 502 & 504 errors...
timeouts... ah! wipeout!
         a playstation 1 primer...
   when did i last play games drinking?
    i was already Colonel Kurtz in the game -
because i can't even remember if i ever
played a multiplayer game online
  with other live users
              since... never...
                         back when it was all about
Tenchu and Final Fantasy VII -
and the bedroom's worth of a Saturday morning...
so i was probing the past few days
with generic entries to bypass
  the 502 & 504 timeouts...
turns out "a.i." feeds on content worth
storing... worth on banking:
    a complication, stuttering of tongue...
and why is it that i'm listening
to a live-stream of FAMA radio?
          https://radiofama.com.pl/?
  well... i've stopped being snobbish
about music... pop is: bubblegum and
                        ice-cream scoops -
              the radio concerned?
   after 10pm: minimal adverts -
                  maximum music...
                         i already have a snobbish
music collection...
                         i can listen to it
on a ****** concern -
          but as snobbish as it sounds:
    if you really want to appreciate a radio -
might as well collect some of:
  actually remains other peoples' tastes:
to invoke - wine and candle and a girl
impressed...
               probably 2nd from how
impressive it is with a husband, father,
wife, mother - sitting silent in a room
  with the t.v. off, two candles burning
and each to their trance of:
  give me a chance to recreate with you
by procrastinating...
           and of the monk son?
   he has been silent for two days -
is he making whims?
          to prove a point he took out
the trash, fixed the gabbage bags to
the trash cans...
                            lay in bed,
               smoked only two cigarettes
through the day...
                       abstained from talking -
because smoking is really coupled
with a good conversation...
   plus he always wanted to become a monk...
cries when he hears templar chants
if he's in the right mood...
               but hey,
   the 502 & 504 HTTP conundrum was solved:
the robot needed to understand
a human was working in the medium...
because? the last entries waiting
to be published / saved in draft looked
like the following list (title, followed by text):
     T, T
     L, L
         500, 500
                    Ere, Lot
              Aye, Scot
          Spa, wet
             Lob, 'edder
        Jeer, Fancy...
             now i'm actually fascinated
when a problem can be solved -
   without actually having to contact
a webmaster a 2nd time...
              some weird offshoot of
playing a game while drinking...
               weird: as: ****!

— The End —