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Gigi Tiji Oct 2014
Fear drew me,
devoured me, and
vigorously erased me.
Xe's an *******, but xe's just like me.
I'm xer ****** drawing xe
doesn't want to see.

I'm a pile of rolled up pink rubber bits tainted with grey.
I'm brushed off its desk with a frantically manic flick of the wrist.
I'll get ****** off the ground and thrown away some other day.

and I'll sit in the garbage for a while.
and I'll still be here, but I'll be useless.

Courage sticks xer calloused hands in the grimy wastebin.
Courage picks out all all my bits and pieces.
Courage gives me a squeeze and sticks me back together.
Xe didn't have to do it, but xe's as kind as xe is calloused.

and I'm still a handful of used.
I'm still a pile of pink and grey.
I've just been packed into a ball of passé.
and I smell like **** now that I've been sitting there so long.

Courage SLAPS me in the face.
Thank you, courage.
You're so right.

I will ******* erase you, Fear!
Just like you erased me!
You turned me into humdrum,
so I'll chew you up like bubblegum!
I'll spit you out like poisonous lead
and I'll make you mine instead.
I am not your ****** ******* doodle.
I am a ******* masterpiece, you ******!
life expands and contracts
in direct relation to your courage...
so do something stupid...
slap fear in the face...
close your eyes,
and fall backwards
into trust...
K Severin Aug 2013
You say you love me
Just not my choice
What I hear is
                     your ignorance
What I hear is
                     I love you,
                                 all of you
                     Except the parts
                                 I do not want to love
                     Except the parts
I refuse to acknowledge because
they do not fit my frame
of reality
        
Do you not see the importance
of this part of me?
I would not choose
         a life of supposed immorality
         contrary to a lifetime
                                             of beliefs
         causing turmoil and
         inflicting pain on
the ones I love
I would not choose
         this confliction of
         body and mind
         residing in a life
         of constant discomfort
And yet
         here I am

I endure the pain
         of you rejecting
                     who I really am
         of judgment cast
                     by churched minds
         of sympathetic looks
                     saying Oh you poor,
                                                         lost soul

You poor, ignorant soul
You are blinded
         by your unblinding truth
Refusing to accept
things that may fall
                                 outside your preconceived box
                                 structured by misinterpreted men
                                 two thousand years ago

You can only see
through the cracks
         of the wooden slats
A view not wide enough                                                                              
to see the disentanglement
sgdexenre
s  d  xer
                     g   en e
of ***
and gender                                                                                   
A view not wide enough
to see that a person
is not determined solely
         by their given body
because bodies are temples
and temples need to be built
Temples need to be whole
         inside and out
Temples need to be refined
         after they are first built
                  Cut out rotting timber
                  Fortify with stronger rock
         and carve on the outside
         a reflection of the beauty
         lying within
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2017
.i never sought to see a vision of god, only his shadow, as i never seeked to hear his voice, but only the whisper, of his thought: and it thus expressed, morally convened: for i am by pentagram bound to say: it, all is, right before me - the world and all that deservers a master, and the one who is willing to reciprocate, whether doubt-ridden or doubtless, whether infuriated by prayer, or a militant denier.

better to exfoliate in one's vices,
than cherish one's virtues,
better to acknowledge one's ills
that champion one's graces -
to acknowledge one's burdens
is also to carry less gold
of the accomplished talents.

besides, i am thinking of the bigger picture,
am i part of something greater?
greater as in: the universal plan...
hell no!
               i'm part of a horde,
a horde that's been waiting for the next
tool album - 13 years and it's still
another 2 months till its release...
i'll make sure to buy it on vinyl,
         after all... all vinyl purchases
come with a code that lets you download
a digital copy...
            but i've been thristy for some
modern prog rock (metal, etc.) -
and it's not like i ever got into
muse - no twilight saga inspiration
to see here, sorry stephanie -
i just don't dig their ****,
   the screeching vocals...
     no, my uncle, a gen Xer,
and, as m.g.t.o.w. as you can be...
he once once said that simon gallup was
one of the best bass guitarists in music,
i'm not even going to mention
the red hot chilli man... pointless...
    but... for my generation,
the "dreaded millenials"... no other akin
to justin chancellor...
              bass is so important,
so so important: you need that space
in between the drums and the rhythm guitar...
******* solo all you want:
you don't have decent engineering
on the bass, so that it's prominent -
you have jackshit...

        on another point of interest...
i once heard a h'american voodoo satanist blah blah
treat the concept (not a theory) of solipsism
as a mental illness...
         well... tell that to a schizophrenic...
if the drugs don't work to hush out
the claustro-**** affair of not being
the only person (voice) inside his own head?
a bit... cluttered, wouldn't you say?
   but imagine, beside the drugs...
engaging a schizophrenic into meditating
solipsism...
           one tier above atheism from my
perspective, it's a binary schematic...

an atheist represents: 0,
  a schizophrenic represents: 1...
     why is that?
       the atheist is trying to plug a hole...
a schizophrenic is trying to salvage
his: self...
                 ideal representation...
i think: much more productive in ensuring
**** sticks together, finding your self (the reflective
form), to later express yourself (the reflexive
form) of it-self...
                 i always found atheism
to be so arrogant, boring,
     barely sniffing at the feet of a bow...
it almost makes me admire the way muslims
pray... i once cried at the beauty
of an adhan...
                  so... the right kind of islam is...
in a way: titillating me...

   ah... ****... it will never work...
          i like this quote:

some people live to eat,
     while others: eat, to live...
           i guess i'm of the latter persuasion...
a decent stew, nothing fancy,
even today i had the saliva for a parisian
pancake... so i made myself a parisian
pancake... with melted cheese and ham
and a tomato and chilli radish...

kiwi cider... i just love how some spirits
and the weaker stuff all have a story...
    **** me, they even enjoy dabbling
in phonetics (ohld-moot-sy-der) -
old mout (mawt) cider... get it right kiwis...
pineapple & **** rasberry...
   and it even has a name...
would you believe it?!
                         a trending topic...
nice... alongside when ms. amber jumps
into that ginger ale jacuzzi?
      a fine, fine evening is waiting for me
at the end of a day and into the night...

but, the kiwis did get one thing right...
unlike all the nanny propaganda
placed on most bottles in england...

    please drink responsibly
     2.0 units...
      but... there is no message from
the "chief": medical examiner...
   responsible adults should not exceed
a daily consumption of alcohol
  men 3 - 4 units daily
   women 2 -3 units daily...
          me? for the past few years?
roughly 40 units daily...
   but wow... look at all this poo'etry...
the kiwi cider company considers
only two acts as discrediting you from
drinking responsibly...
   there's a whittle picture of a pregnant
woman enclosed by red circle
    and a / in it... a big no no...
and?
              a whittle picture of a car:
    and as already stated...
       i get bothered when people ask:
how much? how much?
                      it's even my brain,
or my liver...
                 if i can get a decent amount
of sleep each and every night,
my liver can **** itself;
    there's nothing worse than bouts
of chronic insomnia that lead you toward
staying awake for nearly 48 hours
   and still unable to feel tired,
     that's when the hallucinations start
creeping in,
  but at least in a more stable environment...
more in vitro than in vivo...
   no safer environment to hallucinate when
sleeping: hence calling it dreaming...
  it's like these hallucination are like gut
bacteria of the brain...
         they need to express themselves
     to the brain after a certain threshold
of staying awake is breached...
                                            not fun...
p.s. **** rhyming poetry,
              sure, it's cute, it was great when
Dante did it... but i don't see all the great
masters from Ovid through to Hesiod and past
Horace doing it...
   cute poetry doesn't satisfy the thirst
for something, on the lines of: epic.
Maddy Sep 2021
Respect is very important
Gratitude goes along with it
Tired of red versus blue
Disgusted with Democratic versus Republican
Along with everything in between
One people of different ideas and backgrounds
Respect and enjoy your culture and religion freely
Look at the poem on the Statue of Liberty
Lazarus was not wrong
The criminals that lurk need to be brought to justice even if they have held the highest office in the land along with their cronies
Even the guy that sells pillows
Fearing for the listeners of his podcast
Just once let us all be people who care
Just once let us be people trying to get it right when those who are powerful and follow them have gotten things so wrong
Stop judging and start repairing the harm that has been done
There real life Archie and Edith Bunkers are out there.
The pandemic is real
Families and friends have succumbed to it
What about children?
Education is everywhere not just in school
Take children to the library and read in front of the kids in your life
Go to museums and talk to your children
Virtual visits work too
Digital literacy is only one way not the only way
Boomer, Generation Xer etc stop putting us into labelled boxes
Stop making excuses
This Civil War didn't start In January
There are 96 colors in a Crayola box now
When will we be the United States again?

C@rainbowchaser2021
You don't have to agree or comment.
Just had to say it once and for all.
Ken Pepiton Apr 10
Hello Poetry ought to make poets expand,
and lo, it does,
- perhaps past Amazon Web Systems, bending under the plan
- who knows how 502 connections catch up, when poets
take a thread and pull...
as the poetic bubble expands and encom-
passes under
standing stones, crawling on my belly shining
the path behind me
as might a slime in my condition, signaling
to all who follow,

rest up, some levers set springs that can
lift you anywhere
from 324 to 7500 bodlengths, imagine that
wrong
and the stories all start to seem familear as hell,
being or not,
you know, when this ain't sati-sifine-mine
satisfied, servant given props,
true, measure twice cut once is a good rule to remember
once more
too late, to matter, it passes as gas, spiritual, not religious.

The nuts are LH I bet you, watch what ah, you know
what the left hand knows, qwerty is on my side
and right requires looking to find a critical. point
where a breathing comma woulda done it better,

think out, ah loud, ha three times
what if now,

you read, and wonder if it happened or you
imagined it did.

you weite this line, it did gitwrit right, whosay whosayin
amean ameam a meme me me ,miney by yo toe-western
tap tongue click to the beat of the tribe,

unh hung, we bin, we gone we been and done
sing it old son sing it in that
silent way
words do as they seem to float above the page,
oh, sage, shouldabeen a child's name, and lo, it was.

A prophecy from Sue, too true to
disobey, so some where there's an Xer in Texas
called Sage,
remembering the Alamo
and such names, ken come loose the looser the interpretations
and beguilded become
set to high idle bemeaning nothing
in  1 generation exposed,

to the new atmosphere filled
with signals saving time,
Ten Days Coast to Coast, those
shiny men, in reality,
listened, not all of them, some of them, one finger typer,

guy lost his thumb, on a wagon train real deal do it
as it was done in the journals,
now, 30 wpm ,-.;

imagine imogenes-- the r--- re
tell, or call imoges imagine in the past

reality, mine, perhaps, not yours, even in the same
time zone, but we tune to this signal
and sudden
instant yes, a me
was a we and we went with it , let it boast of knowing
this qwerty code due to darwin's bulldog being related
to the guy I met just
inside
the doors of perception, after an excellent read
given me at the fishnet factory, in a package,
that seals the time frame for much of the past
and all the futures imaginable

it was just
that quick we yooost to say, the quick and the dead,
at the edge of eternity, we

as we are, aware, being ware able we know,
a thing or two, is not enough, to infect,
we need more,
baby, have I got a number for you, I put a spell on you,
I ran to Ur,
but Ur was fallen so I ran, to where Forrest Gump stopped.

And I remembered, away away a me-me memory implant
during a momentary disconnection
sensing something resonating as I wish a gong one song
hmmm steady
hmmm breathing thingme I am,
this
what good can I do did i- said AI already riddling
and only just
begun.

See if we or notice we did. We shall think we may know,
and we may as well do it.
April 502 empearled anchor chain set to bubble up now all at once 60 -502s

— The End —