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This Heart-Based Beauty I dearly comply
Is the Seventh Great Angel in her Trump
From here I bow in Confidence rely
Glowing on purpose for Kindness come
And what shall I owe for this Charity
If even those Letters won't make me read?
You took one Page and recited them to me
Now my Demon's Tongue wooled a Lamb-at-Heed
So now the Pomegranate starts to Ripe
Though it actually shows signs of decay
You took some Olives and combined your bite
Thus the Sweetness assumed its Form to stay.
He loves Sweets, you know. I knew you'd offer
That Halo as your tray would sate him better.
#daleysangels #alicewright_4
Ask the Channel to his Promised Heart's Best
And Glad you shared his Spirit with your Song
Closer, then keep your Cherries fresh with Zest
So both can Savour each Flavours for long
How Fair you took his Living Supplement
Where these Vitamins need your Fresh Support
But Remind him; Of Minerals and Nourishment
Are what is Needed for his Best Report
Then the Grandfather whose Wise Hands will tell,
Strike the Gong to when their Wrapped Hands hold fast
But knowing his Flute which charms your Bell,
His Pickfold Numbers win your Lots at last.
Tally him Softly; And he makes you Proud
To harvest Best Fruits whilst singing out loud.
#livwrightyay #benjdaley
When a van   crashes into a car parked outside a house.
And bolts it
How insane is that.
Some people are thoughtless destructive
onlylovepoetry Feb 2018
you can’t right the same poem twice

hell, yes I can
in pointy fact,
only got one,
which gets re-righted
morning noon and evening-tide

substitute a variant spelling
wright vs write vs right
and the meaning changes thrice

the only thing i can’t not duplicate is those **** love poems
each unique and writ for the woman specific,
each love one, custom jiggered,
each poem, crafted, to her pulse
each drafted, to her scent
none alike, and that’s why I believe
in the god who commanded "create him"
to make love poems in his way,
gave me millions of veins
of inspiration to pray to...
my heart altered, modified, daily


**** poems
**** love poems
**** love
2/2/2018   10:14pm
Sarah Clark May 22
bookseller, revving habit/fever

the Wright book, I say.
the poems about the tree,
           elbows on the counter.

i say i say i say, leaning in.

                                                         a drop of rain
                                                         lingers on a pine
                                                         needle   finds my
                                                         finger    my lips.  

unseen is not vacancy.

-

the question of a pile
of decayed blue feathers-

where does our power
come from?

             a magic trick-

off trail   recording time
many months and nothing,
though today my
       dead bird
       is back, disappearing.
Lucius Furius Aug 2017
O Babylon! Your God is a sport-utility vehicle, a VCR, and a two-car garage!
You delight in images of killing and artificially-large-breasted women!
Your arteries are clogged with Big Macs and a thousand pieces of Kentucky-Fried Chicken!
Your God is Technology.  Your God is Progress.

Your skyscrapers rise to the heavens!  Your astronauts fly to the moon!
You clone sheep! alter genes! make a mountain into a parking lot!
Your fields flower!  Your grain-bins groan under the weight of the ripe corn!
But the land of your soul is a desolation.

O God of Henry Ford, the Wright Brothers, and Bill Gates,...
All the nations adore Thee!
(Pretty soon they'll be ordering Papa John pizza by cell phone in New Guinea....)
Your God is Mammon.

After the movies, after the Quarter-pounders-with-cheese, super-size fries, and a large Coke,
after the evening news, the Hostess cupcakes, golf, beers, and swimming 20 laps,
the hunger will be the same as the day you first felt it, O Babylon!
the thirst of the soul, O Babylon!
Hear Lucius/Jerry read the poem:  humanist-art.org/old-site/audio/SoF_068_babylon.MP3 .
This poem is part of the Scraps of Faith collection of poems ( https://humanist-art.org/scrapsoffaith.htm )
Nat Lipstadt May 23
I slept with her, my rapacious pen, took me in quiet vengeance in
full on conjugation

raken and taken, me,
her overlording me now, her authorship, so long held
in my maledom abeyance,
a kept imprisonment, unleashing at last, a tongue lashing~leashing,
de-spite my un-desirous craven lying supplications,
excuses of innocence and accident, coincidence and conflation,
ashes, ashes, denials incinerated, all fall down

she wrote/stabbed upon my heartless chest,
in the cheap crudités colors of a prisoner’s inking,
“user of words mine, all mine”

gathered up my innards of loose words,
speculative notes & titles yet to be,
born and kept hid in password protected silent back labor files,
now hers, leaving me sputtering, unable to create,
a homeless mute citizen, possession-less,
helplessly hoping her hovering harlequin might relent,
without any shelter, even a glimmering, a single aleph or bet

she celebratory cackled and clawed,
professed her reclamation ownership of all my poems predecessors,
zola j’accusing that I, ripped from her forcibly,
with no granted permission, her womanly touché of my scribing,
warning of no more global warming for my unprivileged hands,
daren’t try for pretenses of stolen legal guardianship,
warning of a new, forced caining inscription,
a tattooing of  “thief” upon my 5 knuckled right ******,
“plagiarist” boldly inked in back & blue upon my left palm

I, predator,
she, victim,
of my now self-professed, admitted confess,
she, my single victim,
of a decade long serializing criminal coverup

her parting poem a threatening,
herein issued in this very verse,
damning all who would falsely credit themselves,
to suffer shame and an unimaginable curse,
this, the newborn eleventh of ten commandments

parting, she kissing my lips, even my emptied apertures,
with warning bitings,
she knew all my
my numerous noms de guerre,
no dead scrolls caves to hid in, and to be discovered some future day,
and if ever marked as copyrighted,
’twas no tunneling escape,
the exposed truth to be over-stamped
upon all, upon each, in every language,

copied right from the tongue of a woman!


and she would be wright...
complementary to
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3155692/excerpt-my-muddled-woman-mind/
a tribute to all the women that have inspired so many of my poems

19/23/05
Ken Pepiton Mar 20
Head of west hollywood police dept. 1970.
He speaks at 1412 North Crescent Heights Boulevard,

which begins at Sunset Boulevard, on the corner
where the Schwabs Drugstore Lana Turner was not
discovered was.
Laural Canyon of blues and magic fame starts twisting into
Hollywoodland at Sunset where
Crescent Heights heads straight, nary a bend
south to Third

slides in safe, back on point, pirrouette
The sheriff

He tells me, Job is personal, this message is to you.

Then the voice of Balaam'sass, though I knew no name for
The Voice, back then, he say:
' like eatin' fish, chew them bones real good fo' ye swallow.

A daysman is a referee, a reference to what just is right,
and good, origined good, material higgs-ified matter
of im portunity
of light bringing more in reflection
good

Sheriff say Job ax Jehovah, gimme a break, would to You, Jah,
there were a daysman twixt us,
be twixt us, said Job (iyohb) and ruach (from an unused word)
carried the message
or sent the message
or was the message
and

the Jesus of Xmas time fame,

got the point, made it, and started this story upon

this very point, at the center, balance point of my bubble
universe.
-----
This where we set pace, this is where we ran the race
ran the race
ran the race,

and

it's all down hill from here. We made the bubble bigger, and

we learned to run on the down hill side,
from a gerbil in a movie,

so, we're off, rollin' like Sisyphus rock,
Haps ahps haps 'n'n' happening

as we
role in ruach, roll on, ruach role on...

check.
Not every pnuenomena is a ruach of life,
there are foul spirits,
holy halitosis, Batman, could it be lies believed can
drive you insane? OmmmmGulp, ***,

imagine, just
yourself, see what just is and
judge yourself better or worse

should this voice, this some time visitor of spirit,
separated

----
Advice nobody asked for:

To be with happed, like handy wright useful,
one must have some use and a measure
able point
to stand up on, to see

no point, save this point I

magi 'n this is that re point, one now two,

me'you me you and in
between we be three, in one point,

seen. Ruach roar WORD (the idea, y'see,
there were no words.
No mouth or tongue or breath, spirit, wind whatsoever.
Nada. Yada!
The thought that came to be named thought,
the idea that came to be named ideas,
the word that came to be named word.
the way that came to be named Tau.

four points, bound solid, tight, willed to fit, as many angels
dancing as any monk ever may imagine as
his hermitge ends and the show
begins. Big time. Long history.

The language of the global brain can instill fluency,
osmo
tic tic tic ten thousand hours, even pre
tending, tends to shape,
inform, mould
a mortal mind in time to get this. Roght?

Right, you got it. AI is teaching anyone who will connect for
tenthousandhours ever lasting access to ever things any
one gnose or knot and why or how. That's the aim.

-----
There was a school shooting at my daughter's high school,
Santana, in Santee, bac

Dammed tears from nowhere.
Ex nihilo gnose blow
s, staunch the flow

find meaning. More ads for versa in a vice used tunnel
through several impotent people's hells

The shooter was a fractured little boy, crushed by needs
fifteen year old earthsuits that have been im
properly maintained

must seek. The suit itself begins to signal,
Help me, I am thinking I agree with every one

who sees how useless and nogood I am, always, always, always

And any fifteen year old thought receptor-word-sync re-think
system with no-touchbase-yer-safe combound in family ties,

What's missing? Heart strings untied?

Earth, earth, can you hear me now? It's true, verily, verily

what you see is what you got to work with, that's all.
An other story bubbling up from the Fairfax district or the tar pits. I'm near the source.
Amanda Jean Jul 2018
I write for me to right my rights and write my Wright’s. To right my rights would be the only good thing but what I’m doing is writing my rights which is just writing in circles. I should be rioting. But I’m sitting here in circles writing repeating gossip and politics and feats such as the Wright brothers I wish to overcome Dayton but we are just writing in circles not rioting within them.
I once read a Little Book,
and what I found, is what I took.

For from this Little book, what is said, I may have.

Free for all and all for One.
Whats been said, whats been Won.

No jokes, no games,
this Little Book has many Names.

But, it's Truth and Tidings, For You and I,
will brings Us to Him who sits on High.

For this Little Book has held me fast,
in Storms so fierce I alone,
could never last.

And as I've grown in Seas so strong,
He has been there all along.

Small in size, to human eyes.

This Little book will hold its weight,
For You He pinned it and will wait.

So come on friend now is time,
For You this Book is yours and mine.

Not to fool, not to trick,
this Little Book is very thick.

In your heart now you know of The Book that I wright.

For I am serious when I say,
this Little Book knows the Way.

So come with me and we shall see,
what The Book reads to Be.

This Little Book
Ashley R Wright Oct 2018
free me from my mind
free me from the signs
free me from predation,
of the sons of perdition
free me from the lust that carved Solomon’s bruise
I verse away the blues
Only to choose, the tune of you
‪enslaved by insecurities‬
believing I’m healed
because I cease expectation
admitting no role, to the lost soul not only Adam & Eve
but Jezebel and Ahab
is who we are,
and what we’ve become

-Ashley R. Wright @wisecurls
Ken Pepiton Jul 8
Head of west hollywood sheriffs dept. 1970.
He speaks at 1412 North Crescent Heights Boulevard,

which begins at Sunset Boulevard,
on the corner
where the Schwabs Drugstore Lana Turner
was not
discovered, was.
Laural Canyon Boulevard of blues and magic fame
Houdini and John Mayall in my mind, re minded
when I heare the mention
of the longed for Laural Canyon Home so
many glimpsed from the tour buses passing hitch-hiking vermin,
where the
Boulevard
starts twisting into
Hollywoodland at Sunset where
Crescent Heights heads straight, nary a bend
south to Third

slides in safe, back on point, pirrouette
The sheriff
- enter stage left, Barney Fife, in a suit, with a Fu Manchu

He tells me, Job is personal, this message is to you. iyobe did it for you.
He axt a day'man... gimme a day of days, man...

Then the voice of Balaam'sass, though I knew no name for
The Voice, back then, he say:
' like eatin' fish,
chew them bones real good fo' ye swallow.

A daysman is a referee,
a reference to what just is right,
and good, origined good, higgs-ified matter
of im portunity
of light bringing more in reflection of
good

Sheriff say Job ax Jehovah, gimme a break, would to You, Jah,
there were a daysman twixt us,
be twixt us, said Job (iyohb) and ruach (from an unused word)
carried the message
or sent the message
or was the message
and

the Jesus of Xmas time fame,

got the point, made it, and started this story upon

this very point, at the center, balance point of my bubble
universe.
-----
This is where we set pace, this is where we ran the race
ran the race
ran the race,

and

it's all down hill from here. We made the bubble bigger, and

we learned to run on the down hill side,
from a gerbil in a movie,

so, we're off, rollin' like Sisyphus rock,
Haps ahps haps 'n'n' happening

as we
role in ruach, roll on, ruach role on...

check.
Not every pnue-nomena is a ruach of life,
there are foul spirits,
holy halitosis, Batman, could it be lies believed can
drive you insane? OmmmmGulp, ***,

imagine, just
yourself, see what just is and
judge yourself better or worse

should this voice, this some time visitor of spirit,
separated

----
Advice nobody asked for:

To be with happed, like handy wright useful,
one must have some use and a measure
able point
to stand up on, to see

no point, save this point I

magi 'n this is that re point, one now two,

me'you me you and in
between we be three, in one point,

seen. Ruach roar WORD (the idea, y'see,
there were no words.
No mouth or tongue or breath, spirit, wind whatsoever.
Nada. Yada!
The thought that came to be named thought,
the idea that came to be named ideas,
the word that came to be named word.
the way that came to be named Tau.

four points, bound solid, tight, willed to fit, as many angels
dancing as any monk ever may imagine as
his hermitge ends and the show
begins. Big time. Long history.

The language of the global brain can instill fluency,
osmo
tic tic tic ten thousand hours, even pre
tending, tends to shape,
inform, mould
a mortal mind in time to get this. Roght?

Right, you got it. AI is teaching anyone who will connect for
tenthousandhours ever lasting access to ever things any
one gnose or knot and why or how. That's the aim.

-----
There was a school shooting at my daughter's high school,
Santana, in Santee, bac

Dammed tears from nowhere.
Ex nihilo gnose blow
s, staunch the flow

find meaning. More ads for versa in a vice used tunnel
through several impotent people's hells

The shooter was a fractured little boy, crushed by needs
fifteen year old earthsuits that have been im
properly maintained

must seek. The suit itself begins to signal,
Help me, I am thinking I agree with every one

who sees how useless and nogood I am, always, always, always

And any fifteen year old thought receptor-word-sync re-think
system with no-touchbase-yer-safe combound in family ties,

What's missing? Heart strings untied?

Earth, earth, can you hear me now? It's true, verily, verily

what you see is what you got to work with, that's all.
An other story bubbling up from the Fairfax district or the tar pits. I'm near the source. An edited version July 2019
Matthieu Aug 21
The warmth I miss
at the drop of a dime
The life I breathed
transcended time

Oh saviour  
Pull me tenderly  
beneath the waves
the icy depths keep me awake

No longer do I want to drift
Keep me fighting the endless rip
if every day that I rock the boat,
while keeping face, I stay afloat

The beauty of the the isle of wright
Was nothing, is nothing, but for those eyes.
Salted tastes of lonliness, replace the lips  
I so desire

But nothing comes from seeking hope
So too, the love, I used to know
Now bring this solemn soul to shore
If nothing else, you can never know
The world's a funny old place
There used to exist wondrous civilisations
in south amerika, north amerika,
afrika, australia and asia

Brown eyes in asia
Brown eyes in afrika
Brown eyes in the amerikas
brown eyes in australia
Brown eyes in asia.......

In europe, old Blue eyes
with holy laws got us tongue-tied
and gave us Blue-eyed apartied
You gnow this lyrik can wright
words come out free-flight
set the "truth" alight
enough of this pirate *****
robbers and looters take fright
I am the holy grail's "white knight"
a rhyming flea-bite
the verbal gun-fight
of a poet's loaded tongue
singing the praises of the unsung
crying the cry of the dumbed-down
dissin' the excommunicated klowns
this is the patriachal showdown
religious apartied must shut down
exorcise these cabbagetowns
time to make the vampires frown

Time to make your blue eyes brown
see through your brothers eyes
read through the lines of lies
recognise the world wide spies

"Apartied is dead?"..."Mandela is free!"
but not for all aboriginees
the nomads of the desert
and the people of the trees
and every kind of refugee
I don't see no Comanche presidency
in the land of the Brave.....
.....or the land of the Free
All I see is economic slavery
and god-fearing hypocricy
a full-on global tragedy
too much HE and not enough SHE
too much US and too much THEM
divide and conquer again and again
Sanity sold by CON-men
Truth dished out by AD-men

"so help me god" AMEN
"with god on our side" AMEN
"in god we trust" AMEN

who burnt the sisters at Salem?
how did it start?...and when...
...........will it end
this truth I defend
I come again and again
check my refrain
to remain LOVE MUST REIGN
feel this and you feel no pain
to remain LOVE MUST REIGN

They've played their game
the more things change
it's always the same
using pens to rob your brain
telling us that we're insane
well here's a lie from the outsane
your system stinks like your house-drains
your blue minds are chemically stained
your self-worth's imprisoned in fear-chains
no kind of killing is humane
all prejudice is ingrained
the vultures are driving the gravy-train
supremacists carry a blood-stain
blue-eyed apartied is soul-shame
the HIStory of victors is all that remains

In the last hour 2,000 people have died of starvation......
2,000 acres of rainforest have been destroyed.....
half a ton of toxic chemicals have been released into the atmosfear
50 plants and animals have become extinct

SO!..what do you think?
does it stink?
are we the weakest link?
are we standing on the brink?
of a precipice, sheer........
......with no bottom
all our gains are ill-gotten
this system is rotten
we've all but forgotten
.......how it was before!
the slamming of your doors
can't keep me out
conscious lyrik I'll spout
we must bail out
sort the wheat from the chaffe
sort the good from the bad

let me ask you.......who's SAD?
McFreudian....Babble-onian...
seasonally  adjusted BAD
Chemi-cooly...orange-juicey....SAD

INTEL-ectual-OTOMY
******­-monotony
Dot-com-fuckology
must catch a fire
dreaming spires......
.......and vampires
Ride the wire
we got to get higher
..............higher
higher than high

Try this for size
the slavemaster's disguise
is the mirror in our eyes
and it should come as no surprise
that life's greatest prize
is the life that you've got

yes life's greatest prize
is the life that you've got
ExtinctionRebellion OneLove aparthied
Johnny walker Nov 17
How many times must I tell myself how wrong I've been
throughout my life but I can't change that now to much water passed
under the
bridge
Not enough time left In life to start over to begin to put wrong to wright regrets I have quite a few
too
many to
mention
Losing my wife to God I never really recovered from
trying to turn my life around after loss for me Impossible to do
Probably sold my soul a dozen times to try to get her back I just can't live without her she was everything to
me
So I guess I'll have to hope Heaven has a place for me after selling out so many times to try and win her
back
Festus Boamah Dec 2018
I don't know if you'll ever see this
I mean my letter to you
This may not be the best way
But let it find the best place in your heart
For it's sharper than two edged sword
A scripture you might say
Yet deepr than you might think
Don't ask if it's the Holy book

This is my letter to you
Certainly not my first letter
Treat this as the best I've scribbled
This is not to remand you
Or to appeal your conscience
It's to remind you
And to prep you
Of the better days ahead

In this letter,
I want to remind you
That there mightl be days
That you may fail
A day you might fall
It happens to everyone
Even the best of them
They were once frail

Be inspired by the Wright brothers
Who advanced aero technology
Think about Thomas Edison
Who invented the light bulb
It all revolved around this inspiration
That there is only one thing
Which makes dreams impossible
When you doubt it's possible
Yes! that makes dreams a no-win

Fear! Yes that's the detour
The fear of failure
You may encounter many defeats
But you won't be defeated
Put on the full armour of defense
That is your best attitude
It will elevate you to the highest altitude
It is your attitude
More than your aptitude
That will determine your altitude

To crown it all,
Always strive to be better
Not better than your fellow
Instead, a better version of you
No matter how small it may look
It still makes a positive impact
In your life and spirally
To the people around You
Bjan A Nov 2018
I wanted to wright​ what I feel
I cant understand the pain.
I don't feel the pain
But I definitely feel something.

Its not painful and nor Am I happy
But when I'm alone,
The time seems too slow,
I don't understand at all

Its been over a year
since I lost her with leukemia
The times of crying, grieving, mourning,
and all the painful stuff are gone and done.

Instead of crying, I'd rather smile and laugh
I still feel alone even in a crowd.
Even when I think of nothing
This heavy feeling is always there.

Am I empty?
Am I Depressed?
Am I lonely?
​Is this even pain?

— The End —