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A loon communes on the lake,
the lake is a tear drop on Mother Earth,
the ripples flow like glass being blown,
I am perched on my porch.
The loon cries once more,
I puff on my cigar,
the smoke shifts indecisively,
it moves much like the unchained around me,
free willed and wild.
I dream of being unchained.
My branches stretch out,
they yearn for the sun,
but heavy grey clouds hang on puppet strings.
Overcast and encumbered by responsibility,
they shroud the sun,
blanket it with regret and doubt.
I dream of being unchained.
I lower my branches and shout,
but no one hears,
my voice is chained.
The loon cries out,
it echoes unrestrained.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
Terry O'Leary Dec 2013
Ill-fated crowds neath unchained clouds: the Silent City braved
against a sudden flashing flood, unleashing lashing waves,
which stripped its stony structures, blown with neutron bursts that laved.

Its barren streets, although effete, resound of yesterday
with chit-chat words no longer heard (though having much to say)
since teeming life (at one time, rife), surceased and slipped away.

Within its walls? Whist buildings, tall... Outside the City? Dunes,
which limn its frail forgotten tales, in weird unworldly runes
with symbols strung like halos hung in lifeless, limp festoons.

Above! The dismal ditch of dusk reveals a velvet streak,
through which the winter’s wicked winds will sometimes weave and sneak,
and faraway a cable sways, a bridge clings hushed and bleak.

Thin shadows shift, like silver shafts, throughout the doomed domain
reflecting white, wee wisps of light in ebon beads of bane
which cast a crooked smile across a faceless windowpane.

Wan neon lights glow through the nights, through darkness sleek as slate,
while lanterns (hovered, high above, in silent swinging gait),
whelm ballrooms, bars, bereft bazaars, though no one’s left to fete.

Death's silhouettes show no regrets, 'twixt twilight’s ashen shrouds,
oblivious she always was to cries in dying crowds –
in foggy neap the spirits creep beyond the mushroom clouds.


No ghosts of ones with jagged tongues will sing a silent psalm
nor haunt pale lips with languid quips to pierce the deathly calm,
nor yet redress the emptiness that shifting shades embalm.



The City’s blur? A sepulcher for Christians, Muslims, Jews –
Cathedrals, Temples, vacant now, enshrine their residues,
for churches, mosques and synagogues abide without a bruise.

No cantillation, belfry bells, monastic chants inspire
and Minarets, though standing yet, host neither voice nor crier -
abodes and buildings silhouette a muted spectral choir.

A church’s Gothic ceilings guard the empty pews below
and, all alone amongst the stones, a maiden’s blue jabot.
The Saints, in crypts, though nondescript, grace halos now aglow.

Stray footsteps swarm through church no more (apostates that profane)
though echoes in the nave still din and chalice cups retain
an altar wine that tastes of brine decaying in the rain.

Coiled candle sticks, with twisted wicks, no longer 'lume the cracks -
their dying flames revealed the shame, mid pendant pearls of wax,
when deference to innocence dissolved in molten tracks.

Six steeple towers, steel though now drab daggers in the sky!
Their hallowed halls no longer call when breezes wander by –
for, filled with dread to wake the dead, they've ceased to sough or sigh.

The chapel chimes? Their clapper rope (that tongue-tied confidante)
won’t writhe to ring the carillon, alone and lean and gaunt –
its flocks of jute, now fallen mute, adorn the holy font.


No saints will come with jagged tongues to sing a silent psalm
nor bless pale lips with languid quips to pierce the deathly calm,
nor pray for mercy, grace deferred, nor beg lethean balm.


Beyond the suburbs, farmers’ fields (where donkeys often brayed)
inhale gray gusts of barren dust where living seed once laid
and in the haze a scarecrow sways, impaled upon a *****.

Green trees gone dark in palace parks (where kids once paused to play),
watch lifeless things on phantom swings (like statues made of clay)
guard marbled tombs in graveyards groomed for grievers bent to pray.

And castle clocks, unwound, defrock with speechless spinning spokes,
unfurling blight of reigning Night by sweeping off her cloaks,
and flaunting dun oblivion, her Baroness evokes.

The sun-bleached bones of those who'd flown lie scattered down the lanes
while other souls who’d hid in holes left bones with yellow stains
of plaintive tears (shed insincere, for no one felt the pains).

The wraiths that scream in sleepless dreams have ceased to terrify
though terrors wrought by conscience fraught now stalk and lurk nearby
within the shrouds of curtained clouds, frail fabrics on the sky.

And fog no longer seeps beyond the edge of doom’s café,
for when she trails her mourning veils, she fills the cabaret
with sallow smears of misty tears in sheets of shallow gray.

The City’s still, like hollowed quill with ravished feathered vane,
baptized in floods of spattered blood, once flowing through a vein.
The fruits of life, destroyed in strife... ’twas truly all in vain.


No umbras hum with jagged tongues nor sing a silent psalm
nor lade pale lips with languid quips to pierce the deathly calm –
they've seen, you see, life’s brevity, beneath a neutron bomb.


EPILOGUE

Beyond the Silent City’s walls, the victors laugh and play
while celebrating PEACE ON EARTH, the devil’s sobriquet
for neutron radiation death in places far away.
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
12 Monkeys
17 Girls
127 Hours
2 Days in New York 2012
2 Days in Paris 2010
2001 A Space Odyssey
360
A Beautiful Mind
A Bridge Too Far
A Few Good Men
A Single Man
A Perfect Getaway
A Serbian Film
A Very Long Engagement
A.I.
Absolute Power
Adaptation
Airborne
Air Force One
Airplane 1
Airplane 2
Albert Nobbs
Alex Cross
Alpha Dog
American Beauty
American Gangster
Amorres Perros
Amour
Anchorman
Andy Warhol's Bad 1977
Andy Warhol's ******* 1964
Andy Warhol's Eat 1964
Animal Kingdom
Annie Hall
Anti-Christ
Apocalypse Now Redux
Apollo 13
Arachnophobia
Apt Pupil
Armageddon
Babel
Backdraft
Bad Company
Bad Education
Badlands 1973
Barton Fink
Basquiat
Before Night Falls
Being Flynn
Beneath Hill 60
Beyond the Black Rainbow
Billy Madison
Biutiful - Spanish
Blade 1
Blade 2
Blade 3
Blade Runner Final Cut
Blades of Glory
Blood Work
Blue Valentine
Breach
Broken Arrow
Born on the Fourth of July
Boyz in the Hood
Bullet
Bulworth
Brothers
Caddyshack 1 & 2
Career Opportunities
Carlos The Jackal The Movie
Carne by Gaspar Noe - French
Cashback
CB4
Charlie Wilson's War
Chelsea Girls 1966
Cherry
Chinatown
Ciao Manhattan ft. Edie Sedgewick 1972
Cinema Paradiso
City of God
Clear and Present Danger
Closely Watched Trains - Czech
Contact
Corpse Bride
Courage Under Fire
Crazy Stupid Love
Dark Shadows
Dave 1993
Daybreakers
Days of Heaven
Dazed and Confused
Dead Presidents
Defiance
Desperately Seeking Susan
Despicable Me
Detachment
Die Hard Quadrilogy
**** Tracy
***** Harry
Django Unchained
Dogtooth - Greek
Dogville
Doubt
Dracula, Bram Stoker's
Dragonheart
Dream House
Drive
Drop Zone
Dumbo
Dune Extended Edition
Ears Open, Eyeballs Click
Easier With Practice
Easy Rider 1969
Edward Scissorhands
Empire of the Sun
Encino Man
Enter the Void by Gaspar Noe
Eraser 1999
Eyes Wide Shut 1999
Face Off 1997
Fallen
Fantastic Mr. Fox
Fast Times at Ridgemont High
Fight Club
Fill the Void
Fish Tank
Fitzcarraldo
Five Minutes in Heaven
Flickan 2009 - Swedish
Flubber 1997
Folks!
Forbidden Planet 1956
Fracture
Friday 1995
Friday After Next 2002
Frost Nixon
******* Amal - Swedish
Full Metal Jacket
Funny Farm 1988
Funny Games
Fur- An Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus
G.I. Jane
G.I. Joe Retaliation
Gangs of New York
Gangster Squad
Garden State
Get Rich or Die Tryin'
Ghostbusters 1
Girlfriend
Girl, Interrupted
Glengarry Glen Ross
Gomorra - Italian
Great Expectations 1998
Greenberg
Grindhouse Death Proof
Grindhouse Planet Terror
Groundhog Day 1993
Grumpy Old Men
Grumpier Old Men
Gummo
Gus Van Sant's Last Days
Half Nelson
Hannibal
Havoc
Haywire
Heartbreak Ridge
Heat
Hell on the Pacific 1986
Hesher
Hitchcock
Holy Rollers
Hook
Honey I Shrunk the Kids
Hyde Park on Hudson
I Am Curious Blue
I Am Curious Yellow
I Heart Huckabees
I Stand Alone by Gaspar Noe - French
If Looks Could **** 1991
I'm Not There
In Bruges
In The Line of Fire
Inglorious Basterds
Inland Empire
Innerspace 1987
Innocence
Interview With the Vampire
Jacob's Ladder
James Bond - Diamonds Are Forever 1971
James Bond - From Russia With Love 1963
James Bond - Goldfinger 1964
James Bond - Never Say Never Again 1983
James Bond - On Her Majesty's Secret Service 1969
James Bond - Thunderball 1965
James Bon - You Only Live Twice 1967
Jane Eyre
Jeremiah Johnson 1972
JFK
Joe Versus the Volcano
Johnny English 2
Julien Donkey-Boy
Juno
Just Cause
Kapringen aka A Hijacking - Icelandic
Ken Park
Killing Season
Killing Them Softly
Kindergarten Cop
Kingpin
Koyaanisqatsi
Krippendorf's Tribe
Kiss the Girls
La Vie En Rose
Last Night
Last of the Dogmen
Leon: The Professional
Leonard Pt. 6
Les Miserables
Lie With Me
Life of Pi
Lincoln
Lions For Lambs
Little Children
Lord of the Rings Trilogy BR Extended
Lord of War
Lost Highway
Love and Other Drugs
Love in the Time of Cholera
Love Liza
Lovers of the Arctic Circle
Mad Max 1979
Mad Max 2 1981
Mad Max 3 1985
Major Payne
Malcolm X
Man on Fire
Manhunter
Maverick 1994
Meet Joe Black
Melancholia
Menace II Society DIrector's Cut 1993
Mesrine 1 Killer Instinct - French
Mesrine 2 Public Enemy - French
Milk
Minority Report
Mission Impossible Ghost Protocol
Mister Lonely
Money Train
Moonrise Kingdom
Moulin Rouge
Mr. and Mrs. Smith
****** By Numbers
Munich
My Sassy Girl 2008
Naqoyqatsi Life As War
National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation
National Treasure Book of Secrets
Never Cry Wolf
Never Let Me Go
New Jack City
New York I Love You
Night on Earth 1991 - Italian
Nixon
Not Fade Away
Notes on a Scandal
O Brother, Where Art Thou
October Sky
Olympus Has Fallen
Ondskan - Swedish
One False Move
Out of Africa
Outbreak
Palmetto
Paris Texas Criterion 1984
Passenger 57
Paths of Glory 1957
Perfect Sense
Peter Pan
Philadelphia 1993
Pinocchio
Pirate Radio
Platoon 1986
Pleasantville
*******
Project X 1987
Proof
Quiz Show
Rabbits
Revolver
Robocop Trilogy
Robot and Frank
Rolling Stone's Gimme Shelter
Romance and Cigarettes
Romeo and Juliet 1996
Sahara
Saving Private Ryan
Schindler's List
Searching For Bobby Fischer
Secretary, The
Seven Years in Tibet
Sgt. Bilko
Shame 2011
Shine
Shooter
Shopgirl
Sid and Nancy
Sin City
Sky Captain and The World of Tomorrow
Skyfall
Slackers
Sleepers
Sleeping Beauty 1959
Sleeping Beauty 2011
Sleepy Hollow
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
Somewhere
South Central
Sphere
Spread
Spy Game
Stand Up Guys
Stay
Summer Hours - French
Sweeney Todd - The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
Synecdoche, NY
Syriana
Talk To Her - Habla Con Ella
Taken 1 & 2
Takers
****
Taxidermia
Tetro
Thank You For Smoking
That Thing You Do!
The Adjustment Bureau
The Age of Innocence by Martin Scorcese 1993
The Bad Lieutenant - Port of Call New Orleans 2009
The Basketball Diaries
The Beach 2000
The Believer
The Beverly Hillbillies
The Black Dahlia
The Blue Lagoon 1980
The Book of Eli
The Boxer
The Constant Gardner
The Conversation
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
The Darjeeling Limited
The Dark Knight
The Dark Knight Rises
The Day of the Jackal
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
The Fifth Element
The Flock
The Flowers of War
The Fountain
The Getaway
The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo 2011
The Golden Compass
The Good Shepherd
The Good The Bad and The Ugly
The Goonies
The Green Mile
The Grey
The Help
The Hudsucker Proxy
The Hurricane
The Hurt Locker
The Ice Storm
The Ides of March
The Illusionist
The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus
The Impossible
The Informers
The Invasion
The Iron Lady
The Island of Dr. Moreau
The Jackal
The ****
The Killer Inside Me
The Kingdom
The Legend of Bagger Vance
The Lost Boys
The Lost Boys The Tribe
The Lost Boys Thirst
The Machinist
The Mask
The Man Who Fell to Earth 1976
The Master
The Mechanic
The Money Pit
The Naked Gun 1
The Naked Gun 2
The Naked Gun 3
The New World
The Pelican Brief
The Place Beyond the Pines
The Prestige
The Queen
The Raven
The Reader
The Red Balloon
The Right Stuff
The Road
The Rock
The Rocketeer
The Rules of Attraction
The *** Diary
The Saint
The Shawshank Redemption
The Silence of the Lambs
The Skin I Live In - Mexican
The Soloist
The Talented Mr. Ripley
The Thin Red Line
The Town
Transformers Trilogy
The Tree of Life
Tron Legacy 2010
The United States of Leland
The Usual Suspects
The Way Back
There Will Be Blood
There's Something About Mary
Three Days of the Condor
Three Kings
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
To the Wonder
To Rome With Love

Tombstone
Total Recall 1990
Trainspotting
Trash Humpers
True Lies
Two Lovers
Two Weeks in September(Brigette Bardot) 1967
Tyrannosaur
Unbreakable
Uncle Buck
Unforgiven
Unleashed
Unstoppable
V for Vendetta
Varsity Blues
Vertigo
Vicky Christina Barcelona
Videodrome
Virtuosity
Wag the Dog
Wake Up Ron Burgundy The Lost Movie
Walkabout
Wall Street 1987
Wall Street 2010
Wanderlust
Water World
Wayne's World 1 & 2
We Are The Night
War Witch
We Need to Talk About Kevin
Weekend by Jean-Luc Godard - French
Weekend 2011
West of Memphis
What Doesn't **** You
What's Eating Gilbert Grape
When Harry Met Sally
Where the Wild Things Are
White House Down
White Material Criterion 2009
White Oleander
Who is Harry Nilsson?
Wolf 1992
Womb
You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger
Zardoz 1974


Documentaries & Music Videos


BBC - Life in Cold Blood
BBC - Planet Earth
BBC - Rolling Stones Crossfire Hurricane
BBC - Great Bear Steakout
BBC - Ice Age Giants
BBC - Insect Worlds
BBC - Life on Earth 1979
BBC - Lost Cities of the Ancients
BBC - Operation Snow Tiger
BBC - Penguins: Spy in the Huddle
BBC - Polar Bear: Spy on the Ice
BBC - Richard Hammond's Miracles of Nature
BBC - The Life of Birds
BBC - Wonders of Life
David Blaine Collection
**** Proenke Collection - Alone and Solitude, The Frozen North
Encounters at the End of the World 2007
Nanook of the North
National Geographic Wild Kingdom of the Oceans Giants of the Deep: Whales
Shine A Light - The Rolling Stones
Vladimir Horowitz - Der Ietzte Romantiker
Vladimir Horowitz - Live in Vienna 1987
Vladimir Horowitz - The 1968 TV Concert
Whale Adventure with Nigel Marvin
Meenu Syriac Mar 2014
The wind blows this way,
Silence of the night keeps me sane.
The truth, I sit and ponder
As my life beats away.
Too many moments forgotten in pain,
Undocumented, unwanted,
Shelved in some corner
No one to care.

Listening to the wind blow
Rustling leaves and banging windows.
This mind of mine has wandered too far.
The world, I shunned
The people I left.
Maybe another soul,
Who'd love to join me
As I walk this realm
Unchained and free.
mark john junor Sep 2013
fingers unchained by her frame of mind
do little dances on her skin
the soft hair
the thin scatter of line
slows me to ******
and it becomes honey to the mind
thick and sweet
slow and hot
and i cannot withhold
my heart thunders in my chest
my head is full of noises nasty and swift
full of things that overtake all my senses
and she smiles so wicked
she knows that without having to even lift a single delicate finger
she is the only picture in my gallery
she is the only sculpture in the hot garden
in the long night of
the beginning
she melts onto the bed
flowing out over me
golden dreadlocks
patchouli
and the musty perfume of her lust
i am hers
she is mine
unchained by her frame of mind
we sweat the sheets
bounce the kitchen table across the room
get the bathroom soaked
and laugh carefree
its a reason to
stay
stay
stay
just a moment longer
before you go back to your day
before somebody calls you away
nurse your man back
from the edge
strip off all that gear
come here
you are mine
i am yours
Elizabeth Oct 2012
I am the daughter of Artemis.
Hair flowing, arrow soaring, wind rushing.
Fierce, independent, unafraid.
I can do this thing called life.

I am the sister of Aphrodite.
Sweet kisses, lullabies, passion and envy.
You and me, forever together.
Love is all that matters.

I am the mother of Athena.
Warrior race, blood spilled, poised to ****.
Wisdom and wit, entwined.
My brains will help me overcome.

I am a goddess unchained.
My enemies should fear me,
my friends surround me,
my lover never leave me.

I will stand unwavering,
my battle cry piercing the air.
My tears will dry themselves.
I need no one.
Terry O'Leary Aug 2014
The darkness, now descending, floods the city as it dies
while shadows lurk in legions 'neath the looming Evil Eye.
Its frozen stare envelops all, it penetrates and pries,
denouncing loathed dissenters to the keepers in the sky.

One’s inner thoughts are well descried before they’ve passed one’s lips
and cruelly crushed with grim contempt twixt despots’ fingertips;
but if no taboo-idea’s found, with which to come to grips,
the stymied Eye dispenses pus as fabrication drips.

The Eye peers down upon us now, to conquer and control,
and mark our every movement, whether hiding in a hole
or preening like a purple parrot perched upon a pole.
Our welfare and our happiness? No, certainly not the goal.

While phantoms fade, then reappear within the urban sprawl,
the gloom (adorned with Evil Eyes which pierce the livid pall)
pervades the ache and agony that poets sometimes scrawl
of plenitude to penury, how life endures the fall.

And should the herd dare whisper words of freedom's fragrant bloom
or murmur sighs of worriment at earth's impending doom,
the Evil Eye will squint a bit at those who so presume,
condemning nascent unchained thoughts to wither in the womb.

The Evil Eye bores everywhere, a tattletale to Kings,
who scrutinize their puppet people, strumming on their strings,
extracting secrets of their souls like spiders plucking wings
that flutter with the hangman’s knot as the corpse of freedom swings.

Yes, Princes rule with tungsten fists wherever they may roam
and sip from golden goblets, nectar, sweet as honeycomb
while peons (stripped of mind and soul) stray never far from home,
with faces 'neath the iron boot, ****** deep below the loam.

And peasants pass, parading by to fill the golden urn
with pennies for the afterlife wherefore the faithful yearn,
though screams of babes with empty eyes are never of concern
to those who covet silver coins, eyes cold and taciturn.

To hide the pains of purgatory, far-flung distant shores
(on islands of containment) cache the dingy dungeon doors
and inquisition water-boards that buoy their holy wars,
while sandmen drape our eyes with dust, with rainbow metaphors.

We’ll know the party's over when there's little left to eat
and all the learned scholars, lean, stay silent when they meet -
the Eye, withal, will spawn distrust on matters indiscreet.
The signs are all around us - even sheep no longer bleat.

                        Epilogue
One sightless seer scans the skies and mourns the heretofore.
Nine limbless men descend the stairs to find there is no floor.
Eight tongueless women babble, telling tales of nevermore.
Four earless children drown within the ocean's muted roar.

When hope becomes defiance, ask: Will bedlam soon arrive?
Will doves appear above us all? Or drones to guard the hive
while fed with milk and honey by the Queen and kept alive
to gut the gale below them? Will we let the Eye survive?
Ronald J Chapman Dec 2014
National Liberation Day Of Korea

Freedom means August 15, 1945.
Koreans celebrate their day of liberation.

Freedom is like a Magpie,
Flying in the morning sky,
Above the ancient palaces of Seoul,

Freedom is like the Rose of Sharon,
Growing in "The land of morning calm."

Freedom is like a river named Han,
Unstoppable!

Freedom means flying the Taegeukgi.
Outside and high!

Freedom is Lively,
Freedom is President Moon Jae-in
President of South Korea,

Freedom is vibrant!
Freedom is festivals,

Freedom is unhindered!
Freedom is a Buddhist monk,
Everland!,

Freedom is unbound!
Freedom is tasty Kimchi,
Deoksugung Palace!

Freedom is lively parties,
Freedom is dancing,
The greatest Palaces of Seoul!

Freedom is treasured!

Freedom is a green bottle,
Soju!

Freedom is Arirang!
Korea's song,
A gift to the world from Korea,

Freedom is Queen Min; Still remembered,
Resting under a cherry blossom tree,

Freedom is Seoul!
A wonder to be seen on the Han River!

Freedom is luminous,
Busan Nightlife,
Changdeokgung Palace!

Freedom is unchained!
Freedom is sports,
Jeju-do!

Freedom is escape!
Freedom is honor!
Battle of Inchon!

Freedom is rising in the sky,
One of the most dynamic cities,
Seoul!

Freedom is no longer
Imprisoned,
Freedom is camping,

Freedom is priceless!
Freedom is one's honor!
Deoksugung Palace!

Freedom is treasured!
Freedom is the miracle,
Seoul!

Freedom is food,
Freedom is Kimchi,

Freedom is hopeful,
Freedom is Yu Gwan-sun!
Long live Korean independence!

Freedom is a Buddhist monk writing,
Freedom is thinking about your dreams,
Not looking behind your back!

Freedom is a child going to school,
Freedom is ultra-modern,
Seoul!

Freedom is escape!
Freedom is music,
K-POP!

Freedom is Arirang playing,
Freedom is essential,
White Day!

Freedom, people, shining in the sun,
Freedom is loved,
Yuna Kim!

Freedom is essential,
Freedom is "The March 1st Movement",
Yu Gwan-sun!

Freedom is shopping,
Freedom is walking our dogs,

Freedom is writing what you think,
Freedom is Sejong the Great!,
Hangul!

Freedom is bringing your dreams into the world,
Freedom is poetry,
Yun ****-ju!

Freedom is traditions,
Freedom is wearing Hanbok.

Freedom is being empowered!

Freedom is.
Freedom is.
Freedom is.

A United Korea!!!

Copyright © 2013 - 2017 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
Learn Korean Holidays - National Liberation Day
with English Subtitles
http://youtu.be/Qdvo6ez4VlU
Those unchained melodies are heard-
slayed and naked, like a lost soul-
wand'ring along a village; a dejected village!
And hark, hark to how they plead!
O, how they beg to be alive, to be free
from the deadness of these winds.
But no-one greets them, with a handful
of care!-how ill, and thievery is,
such inattentiveness! What a smug
egotism!-For these areth living
creatures, not lurking shadows as they'th seemed!
Blackened willows, stiffened dust;
trembling trees, affronted branches-
bending in their nakedness, a scene of vulgarity
with no ******* and sensations-
to capture attention, o, am'rous
attention! How poor these humans are! Brutes
are they to natureth-dappled with disgrace,
insincerely prayin' for more and more to feed their
ungrateful innuendoes-which prey on their
mortality-to fascinate their tongue,
and *****! And elements with no such marks
are out of them, no thinking is set on them;
no moreth! Peek, peek now, at how those
bountiful thorns blureth, and dieth!-at the scorn
and rivalry amongst humans-and still no-one bothers
kindethly-to eventh peek at 'em, yon miserable,
pitiful creatures! But 'ose humans, whose spitefulness
is awayth from b'ing praiseworthy, are aboundth with
death; cannot they defy it, inescapable as it's always
been-for death is not destined to dieth-never!
Thus thy sins, humans, wilt swing thy joys into swamps
of guilt, denial, and suffrage-be unafraid of which,
straighten thy chins-for these are all what thou'th
deserved, all along! Thou'th betrayed nature, and now
thy souls wilt be thy subtlest enemy-thy veiled threat!-
beware of 'tis, but still perchance, it is futile to
exhort thee-now and again! Thou art stained with
remorse, and prefereth doth thou-to follow thy own
course, rather than nature's bliss's vows.
1
We, whose lungs fill with the sweetness of day.
Who in May admire trees flowering
Are better than those who perished.

We, who taste of exotic dishes,
And enjoy fully the delights of love,
Are better than those who were buried.

We, from the fiery furnaces, from behind barbed wires
On which the winds of endless autumns howled,
We, who remember battles where the wounded air roared in
paroxysms of pain.
We, saved by our own cunning and knowledge.

By sending others to the more exposed positions
Urging them loudly to fight on
Ourselves withdrawing in certainty of the cause lost.

Having the choice of our own death and that of a friend
We chose his, coldly thinking: Let it be done quickly.

We sealed gas chamber doors, stole bread
Knowing the next day would be harder to bear than the day before.

As befits human beings, we explored good and evil.
Our malignant wisdom has no like on this planet.

Accept it as proven that we are better than they,
The gullible, hot-blooded weaklings, careless with their lives.

2
Treasure your legacy of skills, child of Europe.
Inheritor of Gothic cathedrals, of baroque churches.
Of synagogues filled with the wailing of a wronged people.
Successor of Descartes, Spinoza, inheritor of the word 'honor',
Posthumous child of Leonidas
Treasure the skills acquired in the hour of terror.

You have a clever mind which sees instantly
The good and bad of any situation.
You have an elegant, skeptical mind which enjoys pleasures
Quite unknown to primitive races.

Guided by this mind you cannot fail to see
The soundness of the advice we give you:
Let the sweetness of day fill your lungs
For this we have strict but wise rules.

3
There can be no question of force triumphant
We live in the age of victorious justice.

Do not mention force, or you will be accused
Of upholding fallen doctrines in secret.

He who has power, has it by historical logic.
Respectfully bow to that logic.

Let your lips, proposing a hypothesis
Not know about the hand faking the experiment.

Let your hand, faking the experiment
No know about the lips proposing a hypothesis.

Learn to predict a fire with unerring precision
Then burn the house down to fulfill the prediction.

4
Grow your tree of falsehood from a single grain of truth.
Do not follow those who lie in contempt of reality.

Let your lie be even more logical than the truth itself
So the weary travelers may find repose in the lie.

After the Day of the Lie gather in select circles
Shaking with laughter when our real deeds are mentioned.

Dispensing flattery called: perspicacious thinking.
Dispensing flattery called: a great talent.

We, the last who can still draw joy from cynicism.
We, whose cunning is not unlike despair.

A new, humorless generation is now arising
It takes in deadly earnest all we received with laughter.

5
Let your words speak not through their meanings
But through them against whom they are used.

Fashion your weapon from ambiguous words.
Consign clear words to lexical limbo.

Judge no words before the clerks have checked
In their card index by whom they were spoken.

The voice of passion is better than the voice of reason.
The passionless cannot change history.

6
Love no country: countries soon disappear
Love no city: cities are soon rubble.

Throw away keepsakes, or from your desk
A choking, poisonous fume will exude.

Do not love people: people soon perish.
Or they are wronged and call for your help.

Do not gaze into the pools of the past.
Their corroded surface will mirror
A face different from the one you expected.

7
He who invokes history is always secure.
The dead will not rise to witness against him.

You can accuse them of any deeds you like.
Their reply will always be silence.

Their empty faces swim out of the deep dark.
You can fill them with any feature desired.

Proud of dominion over people long vanished,
Change the past into your own, better likeness.

8
The laughter born of the love of truth
Is now the laughter of the enemies of the people.

Gone is the age of satire. We no longer need mock.
The sensible monarch with false courtly phrases.

Stern as befits the servants of a cause,
We will permit ourselves sycophantic humor.

Tight-lipped, guided by reasons only
Cautiously let us step into the era of the unchained fire.
J-Long Sep 2022
I feel like I'm running
But the line's getting further
I reach for the sky
As i start to fall faster
And all of my hopes
Are put out to pasture
When i reach out to life
But keep falling right past her

"Don't worry about the ground,
Its just rising up to great me.
Think about the peace I'll feel,
When mother earth gets to eat me
Though i tried so very hard
That I'm convinced that life did cheat me
Here I am just falling...
As if she already beat me"

So i do away with logic
Expel any rational thought
Always better at my worst,
Oh you must've forgot
So bring out Despair
And famine and Rot
Let them do their worst
Before i show what I've got

I've lost this fight before
But since then I have changed
Started speaking with the beast
Cause he often seemed so pained
Now we fight as one
And i have no need to feel ashamed
This time I'll be victorious
Cause the beast is now unchained
Larry Potter Jul 2013
A cumulonimbus caused the gloom that day. It went shedding drops of rain that looked like bead of pearls glittering in the grey autumn sky, vanishing as they plunge on leafless laurel trees and solitary cypresses. He watched them dance to pitter-patter on every umbrella that opened towards the heavens, their colors of rich black calling out to such empathy. Finally, the drops kiss the graze of withered grasses and thirsty dandelions, reviving their foliage and greenness. Slowly, the rainfall collect to become one with soil and mud crawled down to the six feet depression where a coffin was laid. It was white like ivory and carved with elaborate insignias as a token of love and undying memories. Soon, it was all covered with crimson roses that carry the last parting words of the bereaved. The priest waved out his hands above with mournful eyes, lisping his beseeching of earnest favors while spades of loam filled up the burrow. He saw faces of despair around the pit, gasping for reprieve and sympathy. If only the rain could also bring back her life, he implored.

This, in his senses, was belongingness. This, in his heart, was death.

It had been two long weeks since Roxanne’s death and Vincent couldn’t get his feet back on the ground. He still couldn’t believe he had lost her and that their seemingly endless love has flown away from him for all eternity. He’d make believe that this was all just a dream and at some point of this nightmare he would finally be unchained and awakened. Days became niches of shackled memories that kept haunting his love-fletched soul and nights were nothing more than a requiem of lovelorn longings that still linger in his mind. He remembers it all, the feel of her name on his lips, the smell of her hair, and the sound of her laugh. Everything is still as fresh as the dewdrops of June and as vivid as the most cinematic imagery a mortal could immortalize. The ultimate fight of this melodramatic transition was to remain whole when all the strength Vincent has built up begins to crumble by a mere reminiscence of the tragedy that gets freeze-framed from beginning to end over and over again.

It was a rainy Friday evening on the 22nd of May and everyone’s feeling the smell of the weekend rush. Vincent was already at a friend's house party and called Roxanne that he’ll be waiting. Roxanne was driving the Lexus behind a small truck that seemed to plod toward the upcoming red light. She was a few minutes late on her way and watching these two people ahead of her jabber away in that truck was getting her out of her ecstatic  mood. The light turned green, but the truck too slowly moved forward. Roxanne became frustrated as the driver fixated to the right. He visibly gasped at what was just about to come into her view. A brand new grey-blue Chevy Silverado blazed through the opposing stop light to broadside his little truck. Roxanne tried to stop, but her car slid into the Chevy's rear side and went tossing down the highway to an explosion.

All these is what Vincent needs to drown himself to agony. It’s as if Atlas gave up the bearing of the world for him to endure. Wretched and perplexed was he, blaming the world for such a prejudiced conspiracy. How could an angel like Roxanne be bound to such an end? How could an invincible love become vulnerable on the visage of death? But then again, his heart starts to concoct a spell of phantasm, bringing back the most prized memories of him and her together, infiltrating his whole system and gaining power over the bitterness and pain. In this test of sensations, he himself wasn’t sure if this two-edged delusion is a boon or bane. But one thing was becoming clear to him-he cannot be like this for the rest of his life. If this nightmare must be proven real, he must find a way out. Whatever may lie ahead, he must keep going, recreate his own world and be able to break free from the fetters of this mishap that surely promises him nothing but living scars, frustrations and sorrow.

Two years have passed and the town of New Hope has undergone a lot of changes. New coffee shops and cafes run down a block away from the University premise as well as convenient stores and parlors. New establishments stood welcoming and billboards mushroomed the skyway. The streets are crowded with more and more busy people, indicative of a metropolitan evolution of lifestyle. Summer has ended and without a trace, the arid autumn and the frigid winter fluttered to oblivion.

The same is true for New Hope University which, in its current enrollment period, has its student population increased by two thousand. The institute’s remarkable performance rating in board examinations and national competitions attracted other towns to invest their education to the latter. It was nearly the start of class and everyone is busy catching up the enrollment pace. But not Vincent, who, in the first day of inception has already completed the enrollment process. He was ecstatic, more of curious how his life as a senior student could turn into this academic year. He met faces of different kinds-some familiar and some entirely strangers. Those he doesn’t recognize would just pause and pay a smile while others he knew jsut pass by and make him feel invisible. On a ledge in front of his course department’s office he sat. He in himself was New Hope town in human transfiguration- braver, brighter and better. He looked from afar, with eyes playing on the nimble of heads and shoulders of people passing through the corridor. He drenched himself to an illusion of how each head turns toward him with a infectious smile, that once in a while, happiness is sought even in the gallows of solitude. Solitude-it wasn’t a strange name to him anymore. It never was. He was entangled with it on that day the sickles of death took his love away. Somehow, through the passage of time, the wound that was scourged deep in his heart has mended and the thought of being alone became amusing that he has managed to laugh about it over the seasons. He is more human now, away from the devious portal of his mundane imagining.

The daydream was shattered when out of the blue a silhouette of a familiar figure took the stage. She was elegantly tall, with hair of pure ebony lolling on her shoulders. Each step enraptures, and each gentle sway of a hand is a compelling rhythm. She draws closer to where he was and he's left slack jawed. She entered the office and he was back to his senses. Maybe not. What he beheld was something farfetched, something that he cannot comprehend. Vincent saw it all coming back to him. A remnant of his long buried love has come to life. It was Roxanne and it is more certain than breathing. He couldn’t explain what he felt. It was a maelstrom of joy and surprise, of hope and fear. It was the face he yearned to see, so long that the yearning turned to hate and despair. But now that it came to pass, his humanity fell apart. Although he is a mere victim of his own circumstances, the serendipity took a shot straight to his heart and there is nothing he could do about it.

Perhaps there is, and he is now pretty preoccupied. He wanted to know her. He must unknot this puzzle that has challenged his whole conviction. He must find every answer and throw all of its questions behind. Whatever there is that the road has in store for him is not essential anymore. He couldn’t care less to fathom this enigma and once more, find something worth living. But now that he is hanging in midair, he planned to fall back. He jumped out of the ledge and headed out the campus, afraid that she might be at sight and all the strength in him shall subside. He was up all night, thinking of how he could get a chance to meet and talk to her. He had thoughts of crafting schemes, devising methods and inventing tricks.

And nothing of it worked.

The first day of class commenced. New Hope University is buzzing with ecstatic students. Vincent giggled with utmost excitement, carelessly bumping shoulders and brushing elbows with other students in the corridors.  He molested his tattered COR and skimmed for his first class. It is in room 101 scheduled 9:00. He reviewed through the digital clock and he hurried as it ticked to 8:58. Luckily, he is safe from prime tardiness, though he seemed to be the last comer. He seated at the back, knowing that after thirty minutes, he’d helplessly succumb to napping since it is his favorite subject-English 8, Technical Writing.

And so she happened.

It was her, Roxanne’s doppelganger who broke the charts. She was 15 minutes late and unforgivably beautiful with her sequined tee and skinny jeans. She realized what she has gotten into and apologized with the kindest gesture. The professor gave her a hand and led her to the seat beside Vincent. She felt awkward. He was worse. They both sat like lifeless puppets with the puppeteer gone until she broke the silence.

“I’m Katherine,” she muttered. “Katherine Evans, glad to be your block mate”. She took it off with a smile that sent Vincent to hyperventilation. He couldn’t shake her hands. They’re already shaking with butterflies. The poor guy mounted his strength. He could not afford to lose the chance. “Vincent, Vincent Smith”. That was all and a nod. It was rare for Vincent to survive the thirty-minute nap attack but he did this time, although the victory seemed unnoticed. They enjoyed the remaining hour sharing thoughts and ideas with Vincent succeeding in all his attempts to stint his best jokes. He has come to know who she is at the basics-a transferee from Dakota University, a cheerleader and an adventurist. He also looks forward to know more about her in the days to come- hoping that she likes cheese, watching live wrestling fights and attending Sunday mass.

Perhaps she doesn't.

Two weeks was enough a time for the two of them to get closer to each other. They were both open to let the affinity they share to grow and blossom. It was very apparent that the two knew where their relationship is going and they both seemed ready for it.

Months have passed and the two were no more than couples. But Vincent was too overwhelmed of what he had let enter his life. Katherine is no Roxanne. She doesn’t like cheese, wrestling or Sunday masses. She was more self-driven, conceited and unwelcoming. Sooner he realized that he isn’t in love with Katherine, nor will he ever be. He just created his Utopia by painting Roxanne’s memories on Katherine’s facade. He believed to have loved again and he believed in vain.

It was a candlelight dinner at Katherine's and it was all set. She suggested it herself. She would always do this, steering their affair on a one man tag and turning the tides whichever she likes it to be. She seemed obsessed about Vincent, about their friendship, about their bond. This was her biggest mistake: to let Vincent get drowned in her self-consumed devotion.

Vincent is on his way. To break her heart.

When he came, Katherine pranced in glee. She presented the menu. And the drinks too. She was on the midst of telling Vincent her summer getaway plans when he told her to stop and listen. He undid it to her gently by taking all the blames, that it was his butter fingered actions which led them both bruised and bleeding. It was a self-defeating battle preordained by the gods. A tear fell down from Katherine’s eyes, and she didn’t want to show him more. She fled her way out the dining room with a tormented soul, like Aphrodite torn by Adonis, and hurried to her room with the banging of the door. Vincent was left with only the deafening silence, keeping his severed heart together.

As he sat out there slowly losing substance, he began to notice a set of picture frames that showed two happy faces, one of them Vincent was able to recognize in just a matter of seconds. But what puzzled him most is the picture's relevance to Katherine. He thought of a reason to make his way out the riddle. He looked closer to the girl beside Roxanne and found a spot of mole that was identical to Katherine's.

Vincent stumbled to a discovery he wished he had never known.

On the night Roxanne met death, she was not alone. She was with company. The girl that happened to live is Vicky Duran, Roxanne’s best friend. She was secretly in love with Vincent. And she was prepared to change her entire life for a streak of a chance that she’ll have what she was living for.

And she almost succeeded.

Vincent, still staggered on how things turned out insane, went to Roxanne’s grave. He shattered from an implosion of mixed emotions and he cried out like a child who lost his treasured toy. He curled on the ground with so much pain and bearing contained inside him. He called out Roxanne’s name with pure longing, bringing back his old self and his memories of that grey autumn, of that unwanted Friday that took her life away.

Footsteps cracked from the ground and Vincent ceased his outburst of melancholy.

“Let me end your misery,” a trembling voice came from behind him. It was Vicky, whose face is neither Roxanne’s nor Katherine’s. It was a face of a hopeless woman, wretched and determined for something. She was wearing rugged clothes and she held a gun on her hand. To Vicky, living is no different from death. She has now understood why the very person she loves has turned away from her when she gave all that she never was. But the realization priced too much of her reality that she cannot anymore take back. She decided to **** him and then take her own life.

She pointed the gun towards Vincent. He jumped at her to take the gun away. They grappled on the ground, the weapon still on Vicky’s hands. Vincent managed to overpower her but she kicked him, tumbling back to the gravestone. A shot was heard from afar with a man’s cry.

It rained that day. Brown withered leaves of tall laurels hovered with the wind while branches of solitary Cypresses dance to every whirl. The breeze whispered to the clouds of grey, a mark of autumn’s return. Vincent crawled to Roxanne's grave. It was a weeping of a true love that echoed away. Raindrops keep descending from the heavens, washing away the blood that kept flowing to the ground of mud.  Perhaps, on the last moments of his life he found happiness, even from a love that was never his to keep.

 

- by Larry Potter
Broken Dec 2016
Adventure was in her spirit
Love was in her soul
Her heart a raging sea
That no one could control
Fire was on her fingertips
Wild was in her eyes
Freedom was her battle cry
As unchained as the sky
Grace Jordan Aug 2013
Bipolar.

The toxic word flickers across the blue screen, taunting my tears into reckoning. Everything makes sense now. Now I know each time my feelings crash there is no reason, no problem, no answer. Just disorder. My disorder. It’s swirling in my veins, intoxicating me like a drug, and sometimes I like it.

Each manic moment is incomprehensible perfection, with I as the center of its universe. The world is mine to own, the Gods mine to control. Every movement is unstoppable, the energy seeping out of my very pores. Words come easily; all I am is a flowing expression of the beauty within. Nothing is above me, all are below. I am flawless. Why can’t everyone be so perfect?

Yet each depressed crash sends me spiraling into a darkness I have never known. My nails become bitten, my hair a tangled mess. Every turn I find myself nothing but alone, no one around to notice or care or even see. They are better, everything’s better, as long as it’s without me.

I am a cyclical monster, luring in my prey before dragging it into the pits of my own personal hell. Every shattered shard refracts inviting light, yet they cut deep and only capture people in a lethal web. I am breakable, unfixable. Every shade of me I thought I understood is now a vague gray. Is this smile mine? Are these tears real? Am I feeling pain or is it just the chemicals and synapses dancing haphazardly in my brain, concocting this uncontrollable body that I do not know?

I cannot hinder my blood from screaming for help, but my heart cannot tell what my lips refuse to speak. Lips lie when I try to hide, the habitual sin I can never break. People must be punished for their sins. Locked within my prison, kept without my food, begging to be unchained yet pleading to cement my sentence. A prisoner cannot **** when they are dead.

He asks to help, but he is ignorant to the truth. My arms pull him close while my heart shoves him far away, dooming my flicker of a fantastical romance before it begins. It shoves them all away. The choice is shove or break. No one deserves this, the swirling vortex of uncertainty, depression, mania, unknown. How could I break them too? The only paths before me are to lose them or hurt them. Losing them would **** me; hurting them would **** me. My heart will be murdered either way. How inevitable it is for me to be dead.

This disorder is not terminal, yet its killing me quietly, so slowly, and forcing me to feel alone in even the most crowded room. To become an alien in my own world. They want to save me, but they don’t understand, she doesn’t understand, I am too afraid to understand. It won’t be spoken. Only on paper can my iron heart ease, only alone can I say what I know is real.

Bipolar.
a chain as strong as its weakest link
each link close enough to feel the distance
still dreaming to be on the verge of touch,
         reaching out out of reach
      even a sturdy soul may falter

      alone together hand to hand
        
a union the sum of its mindful grip
  faith in the strength of love strong
    the heart opens unconditionally
   encompassing all that is in doubt

        reaching out to strengthen
                   arm to arm
               hand and hand
                 grasping love  
        the unbreakable chain-link


someone you used to know ... 2017
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
-William Wordsworth
Janette Oct 2012
This is dedicated to the ideal of free women everywhere






I have a voice
even though you
have tried to
silence me all
of these years



I have value
beyond your
concept of me
as property, brood
mare, slave



I have vision
beyond the confines
of your domestic
expectations, I
want to breathe



I have opinions
that are not yours,
I will not ask
for permission
to share them



I have ideas
you cannot cage,
my thoughts fly
on Favonian winds



I have freedom,
your patriarchy
shall not choke
the goddess that
lives and breathes
in all women



I have solidarity
with sisters, brothers,
together we swim
against the tides
of iniquity



I have love
To battle your hatred

I have faith
To battle your doubt

I have hope
To battle your misogyny

I have a dream
that even you
cannot change...
I have been asked to write some poetry for White Ribbon Week...this cause is so precious to my heart... I understand ...and do not forget how violence wreaks destruction..
stirred deeply with joy
enthralled with the spirit
we return to Elysian fields
to live autumnal reveries

we prance once more
onto blue sky diamonds
with hometown heroes
to pitch perfect games
knock long grand slams
to honor and embrace
the semblance of siblings,
parents, lovers and friends

life's teammates
our dearest playmates
passed and still here
sustaining our spirit
filling the void of
riven hearts
with nothing more than
a smiling presence,
compliant ear
a warm embrace

keeping a
season of sunshine
alive for one more
golden day

in a resplendent moment
Measy’s youngest son
stood before me
as if it were him
five decades ago

his impish smile,
mischievous eye
and olive skin
wrinkled when
he grinned

your Old Man
was a hell
of a ball player
a great hitter
he always swung down
at the pitch, hitting
nasty line drives

I remember that
summer afternoon
when we first met on
the Washington School
Merry-Go-Round...
Measy just up
from Carolina
he spoke with
a slow Tar Heel drawl
we didn't know what
to make of him
so we made him
our friend

Sifford's Esso, B&D;
and Bulldog teammates
I marveled at his athleticism
but the thing I remember
most was the soft joviality of...

“ ah hoot,
ah hoot.
ah hoot”

his laugh would send
a soft almost *******
shudder through his body

Measy lives in me,
forever in my heart
I embraced young Roy
touched his cheek
a transcendent moment
that spans a half century

At first base
Gail “Peppermint Patty” Q
was scooping up grounders
and not letting anyone past her
without giving them a smile or a hug….
asking each player if their shirt fit right…

the way Gail played
she could start for
the Lady Gaels today...

on the mound
Moons was wearing
a Schmeds shirt
lobbing lollipops to the hitters…..
making sure everyone got on base…

at short Screwball
covering half the ground
he once did..
(never a ss but a classic junk baller,
never threw a pitch that you could hit)
but on this day his heart was filled
overflowing with the karma
of good works and his love for
Rutherford and its favorite
sons and daughters
who have gone on before….

other stars abounded on the field and off…
Noons cracked everyone up
with an endless stand-up routine
Skip walloped a few dingers
BL looked sharp in his Foster Grants
and Andy was looking good
destined for the next cover of GQ….

Coach Way gave a resounding pep talk…
the need to grow up and show up
with an attitude of gratitude will
always make one a winner
regardless of the score

in the stands I heard a hundred stories
about the prowess and foibles of departed friends…

Bay Bay’s HR smash that put Flash Cleaners
into the World Series

A cool Moose bringing the ball across
half court, driving and dumping one off to Head
for the go ahead points against Queen of Peace

Minnow ruling a territory that included Morse Ave,
Wood Street up to Chopper’s House and
half of the Washington School playground

Fic being the smallest Bulldog with the largest heart
ran over linebackers and tackled fullbacks twice his size

Weehawken Joe draining a jumper
from the top of the key to keep it close
at the Union Hill pit…

as the list of the departed was read by Gail, Pat, John and Jimmy
the depth of our loss was only exceeded by the magnitude of love
a caring community extends to one another….
Rutherford is indeed a very special place….

so many caring friends
so many good thoughts
the blessing of friendship
the grace of presence

as I turned to leave
I thought I saw
Nick and Joe
hanging with
Sweet Lou
the hog was
humming
his red bandanna
was flapping
in a rising breeze

Aaron Copland:
Our Town

Righteous Brothers
Unchained Melody

Whitney Houston:
I Will Always Love You

Oakland
Dia De Muertos
2015


Thank you Pat Francke, Jimmy Noonan, Gail Wilhelm Quinn and John Mooney for putting this beautiful event together….

My apologies for not mentioning all the beloved souls so honored at this game…..Know that all are deeply loved and equally missed…..

If anyone has a memory they would like included please add in comments section and it will be incorporated in future versions…..

Also if anyone has a list of the names would like to add that to this….

God Bless
an annual autumn softball game played in my hometown Rutherford NJ...
we gather to honor and remember passed loved ones......
ConnectHook Sep 2015
Men of Reason: bold, progressive
hammer wielders, depth resounders –
shout from the helm your Godless missive
as our Bible-lifeboat flounders.

Send that Flying Spaghetti Monster,
our imaginary friend,
to the myth-conception dumpster:
let the Bronze Age folktales end.

Make the idols bow to Science.
Your progressive task: to mock –
seek that end in brave defiance.
Down with the shepherd’s useless flock !

Laser-focused human reason
serves to clarify the matter,
strips the symbols from the season,
superstitious tales to shatter.

We, mere rubes in need of crutches,
simple children, willing tools –
must be rescued from the clutches
of the fables preached to fools.

Seamless garments, bushes burning:
are but schemes for fleecing sheep…
We are plebes devoid of learning;
rouse our silly souls from sleep!

Flood us with your noontide wisdom
decimate the weaker link.
Blow away our card-house kingdom
show us Christards how to think.

Then, like you, we shall no longer
cling to ignorance and lies.
Missing links make chains yet stronger,
dragging fairies from the skies.

We shall join you in assurance
that there is no great beyond
thus no need for fire insurance
clergy, staff or magic wand.

We shall celebrate together
joyful, freed from superstition
endless, godless sunny weather:
non-existent non-perdition.

Having thus improved the light
and magnified Man’s modern day,
God’s angels will expire in fright;
the Lord shall meekly fade away.
John F McCullagh May 2012
fifteen hundred Starbucks shuttered
by a maintenance miscue.
How will I face this morning
without their bitter brew.
Their water filter system
was due for an overhaul.
Now this forced decaffeination
has me climbing up the walls.
Where's my choc o-mocha latte,
topped with whipped cream
cooled with skim?
Without those extra calories
I'll soon be down a chin.
I miss my blonde barrista, Jill.
and her great good morning smile.
Rakeesh at Dunkin Donuts'
lacks her figure and her style.
I'm reduced to getting coffee
from a roadside hot dog stand.
why he doesn't have free WI-fi
I'm at a loss to understand.
1500 Starbucks locations were closed this morning due to problems with planned maintenace on their water filter systems. chaos ensues.
I am Unchained,

Unhooked, Unraveled,

I am free,

Free what I want to be,

Free as bird,

But though i am not heard,

Not seen nor felt,

Only felt through pain,

I make people forget,

I was ever here,

I never remember,

If I was human,

I believe I once was,
I believe I had a soul,
I believe I had a heart
Kevin Eli Dec 2012
I find the tragedies of people so heartbreaking. Addiction is misunderstood, and this has become my understanding.

I realize that this disease is not about drugs. Drugs are only a symptom of addiction or the "ism". Some people do drugs, while others collect things, suffer endlessly in painful relationships, others obsess over things they cannot control.

The real beginnings of many of our problems comes from far back in our lives starting with childhood and upbringing. We are told that we are expected to be a certain way and that we must follow the examples of others. Even though we should believe that adults that abuse us are wrong, we internalize it and find it to be our faults. “What did I do wrong? I shouldn't have done that. I must do better next time.” I have looked inside of myself and translated that this life terrorizing issue is hard to understand, yet simple.

We have a personality we have grown up with and created. An ego represented by coats of armor that we put on. We put on a new layer of armor each time we are hurt or learn a lesson. Eventually these suits of armor start to get so heavy, we cannot move, we cannot breathe. We try to walk around and be true to ourselves but our defenses make it nearly impossible. We only want people to see what we let them to and tell our true nature to shut up. We think our true selves aren't enough to be loved and isn't worth showing people. We become ashamed of what we actually are underneath. Our Egocentricity takes over and creates that facade we want people to see.

There are several walls we must break down in order to free ourselves of the thousands of layers of armor we put on over our lifetimes. We have the first wall: our personality we present to others. We must know it and see ourselves for what we actually are. There is nothing wrong with you. You are a wonderful human being that is deserving of everything life has to offer. The second wall is the big brute who bullies you at any cost to keep himself alive: Self-hate. It is your greatest critic, your manipulator, and your source of evil. You must look at your self-hate as a black dog behind you that is always barking, looking for attention, undisciplined and untrained. Wild, vicious and dangerous, it will do anything to get what it wants from you and does not love you. It will beg and give you those puppy eyes, but it is always lying to get what it wants... In front of you is another dog. Your true self. It is a little puppy that has not been nurtured or given attention in a long time. This puppy does not bark, it does not cry. It just wants your unconditional love as it has for you.

You must not ignore the black dog behind you. It must be stared straight in the face and you must say NO. This is where the last wall and line of defense against your true nature and love for yourself hides: Fear. You are afraid that this desperate black dog will bite you when it doesn't get what it wants. It will bark so loud you cannot hear anything and you are afraid of being ripped apart and die if you do not give it what it needs. Yet, this dog has a hidden chain attached to it you have never seen or knew about before. It cannot get to you if you don't let it near you. You must make the deep and soul searching decision through great fear and with courage to never give this dog what it wants again...
Turn your eyes forward...

See the little puppy in front of you? It looks at you with those big eyes filled with the desire for you to love it and take care of it. That puppy is you... Don’t be afraid of the work it takes to raise that puppy, because it will grow up slowly yet surely and be your undying companion; always guiding you to the happiness you deserve. Give it some water, some food, your love and take it on walks.
This is you. This is your puppy. If you can learn to love this puppy and nurture it, you will have found you love yourself. When you can love yourself, you can then love another...
The suits of armor come off and you can finally move away from that black dog behind you forever. The love you found will flow into you. You will be able to live with freedom, unchained from your self-hate and fears. Nobody can say you are a bad person anymore. You have taken such good care of that puppy that you don’t need anybody's approval. Your own puppy is happy, and he loves you unconditionally. It is unconditional love for yourself.

Everybody has this armor on and everybody has different weights on their shoulders. It is up to you to decide when to break free. I will pray for you all in the mean time. Please pray for yourself and others.
And as you do, remember to love freely.
I was trapped lured into lie by a clever evil mastermind .
Lost in a strange land locked away in a basement guarded by some twisted hamster on steroids known as a kangaroo.

Sure I had been tricked by evil means by the mastermind known as Helen hey look she told me there was a huge **** down in the basement with tons of strippers and ******* who wouldn't fall for that? Duh everyone knows you never let strippers in the good part of your house .

So here I was living in the basement like some sad nerd who probably posts on a web site everyday thinking they are totally awesome cause they have five hundred followers when in reality they'd be lucky if they had even one human friend in real life.

What ?
I was talking  about one of those star wars nerd sites cause everyone knows I'd never bash a site like Hello that is ruled by a evil cult leader who moved to the states after collecting money under guise to help the site when in reality it was for his *** change .

Yeah Id never pick on someone like that .
Frankly I'm hurt you'd think that  I'm kidding and as long as I'm breathing I will always be your favorite ruthless ******* slash ****** with a heart of gold.

I sat there in my new cell wondering just what the hell I was to do all the while kangaroo jack kept his beady little eyes locked onto me .
Yeah I knew he was sitting there mentally ******* me with his eyes I felt so naked course id probably feel better if I actually put some clothes on.
Duh who wears clothes at a **** *******?
Had I known this was all a lure I would have kept my clothes on and kept my trusty **** whistle and not got into this mess to begin with.

I was ready to scream for help when all the sudden I herd a sound .
Muffled as it was still I herd it the kangaroo hopped as it approached me oh dear lord man I was far to fragile to be assaulted by this weird *** overgrown rat .

The sound was so strange it sounded like the men at work song land from down under but where the **** was it coming from!
The Kangaroo was getting far to close it leaned over into my face and being a true man I did what any other true man would do.

Began to cry and beg this ****** up gerbil not to **** me.
Answer the ******* phone mate.
It said to me as I was stunned .

Hey ******* answer the ******* phone .
It said again  incase your to high or didn't read it the first time .
You ******* talk and what ******* phone I asked trying to hold back the tears let me tell you these animals were known killers they were like Canadians on crack with incredibly strong legs yeah imagine what nickel back could do with powers like these those heartless ******* would be unstoppable .


I was lost naked and afraid minus the camera crew and some ***** chick who smelled really bad and ******* at me for not having great hunting skills why not call that show what millions of people wearing clothes call it .
Marriage yeah now there's some scary ****!

Look **** for brains snap out of hit .
The kangaroo said as it kicked me upside the head .
Answer the ******* phone so we can get on with this story you *******.

I swear those kangaroos really had a mouth on them who knew such cute looking standing rabbit could be such a *******.

Okay so where the hells the phone and never kick me again you got it!?
I have no clue where your furry foots been.
Up your grandmas *** mate and where else would I keep my phone in my ******* pouch .

Look You can insult me how ever you like Gerbil but I'm not putting my hand in that pouch besides that is the oldest trick in the book you know how many times I fell for that with grandpa ?

What?

This steroid fed mouse asked as it looked at me like all other people and some who read this might think.
What the **** is wrong with me?

Yeah that's a whole other write in itself .

Answer the ******* phone in my pouch now *******!
Umm no .
Why not ?
Cause I don't want to .
Look you ***** if  I had long enough arms I would do it but I cant okay
you know how ****** up it is to have arms this short now you know why the T Rex was the most ******* dinosaur of them all .

Yeah I had to admit my new friend slash captor had a point imagine being a total badass that cant ******* boy that's some ****** up **** but enough with the foreplay hamsters.

After some back and fourth  debate I against great protest reached in this hopping *******'s pouch and found a cell phone .

Hello ?
Well Gonzo how you like your new digs mate?
I knew that voice anywhere .

Helen !

My friend turned evil super villain explained to me her evil plan to keep me hostage and force me to co write for eternity in this basement guarded twenty four seven by Ursula her trained evil kangaroo henchwoman .

It was clear all hope was lost how could I ever escape the clutches of such twisted evil?
Then it occurred to me I would simply bust the window in the basement and get the **** out of here .

I had to act fast cause it's almost happy hour at the bar kids and this hamster is thirsty.
  
Hey Ursula I really got to use the bathroom .
Well go ahead mate the toilets in the corner .

Yeah but you know I really like my privacy you know I mean I tell you those burritos are really talking back if you know what I mean but hey if you can stand the smell be my guest I mean sure the oder alone will strip the paint off the walls but I'm sure after you pass out from the fumes you will be fine.

Fine you stupid ******* just make it quick Ursula said as she bounced her grouchy *** upstairs .

It was my only shot and thank God they had left a trusty boomerang around so I could bust the window to make my escape its almost like it was planned that way being I'm writing the story.
No **** Sherlock!

I was free as a bird if a bird had a really bad drinking problem and twisted sense of humor and was totally naked .
I looked to the front gates but there was no way I could escape that way barbwire and flesh didn't mix that well besides without there draw bridge down the crocodiles would eat me alive yeah these Aussies were total freaks .

So like some naked ninja I made my way around Helens Compound of evil making my way upstairs I slipped into a room in hopes of finding just where my clothes had been taken to.

Hey help me .
I herd a mans voice say as I flipped  on the light to find a horrific scene a strange man chained to the wall no wonder this evil woman was such a prolific writer .

Hey mate help me please get me out of here .
I knew this woman was evil but after some deep discussion I learned this poor man trapped in this upstairs *** dungeon was secretly her husband  I know how weird who has there *** dungeon upstairs ?

I don't know what I'm going to do I'm never getting out of here Gonz .
I unchained my knew friend after he told me he knew how to find a way out of here and after finding my clothes and grabbing my trusty case of bourbon we put on some music caught a killer buzz and totally forgot  why we were trying to escape the clutches of evil to begin with.

The party was great we laughed we cried we watched some really freaky homemade movies once only made me love my knew Aussie brother more Shawn was ******* awesome a bit of a freak but ******* awesome.

The party was going full swing when the doors few open and there she was my evil long lost sister Helen and her demented *** evil henchwoman  slash house pet kangaroo Ursula who although a animal had some great legs I have to admit .


The gigs up Gonz it's off to the basement with you forever !
I looked at my new best friend thought about how sad he was when I found him and thought of the great times we could have roaming the wasteland looking for gasoline like in mad max just being totally drunk instead.

Yeah then Helen yelled in her outside voice inside and bout made me **** myself so I said **** this and left my brother behind and hauled ***  

I made it to the kitchen but was trapped by Helen and her evil **** minion .

Give it up Gonz  Helen said .
At that moment I grabbed a knife .

Oh cut the crap Gonz stop being silly what are you going to do with that ?

She thought she had me but I had one last trick up my sleeve .

I opened the fridge and grabbed her trusty box of wine
You ******* don't you dare hurt my baby!

Yeah you want this back I said as walked forward and out of the kitchen towards the veranda .

You get back Helen or I swear the box of wine gets it.

Oh  yeah you stab that box then I will drop this fifth of your bourbon over the rail Helen said with that devilish look in her eyes.

You heartless ***** !
She dropped the bottle I swear it cried daddy as it fell to the ground shattering to a million pieces on the concreate beside the pool wow I had to admit she really had a nice place.

I mean sure she was twisted evil heartless had a awesome husband she kept in a upstairs *** dungeon but enough about Helens  good quality's  .

I looked as my pour bottle lay shattered upon the floor  .
I laughed you know that wasn't my only bottle .

I know that mate then reached to Ursula grabbing yet another bottle from her pouch dam you Australia why must you have so many ****** up animals in one place its like a zoo on crack.

Helen went to drop yet another bottle over the rail when I cracked.
Okay enough!
I will put your box of wine down just don't hurt the bottle okay .

Deal mate Helen replied .

We both slowly put are true passions in life down .
I'm glad you could see things my way Gonz now time for you to get writing .

Yeah Helen I don't think so I said pulling the trusty boomerang from a location I rather not disclose hey I been to prison before you be surprised the stuff people smuggle in.
Dam that hurt.!


I threw the boomerang with all my might this was my one truly  last chance at getting out of here.
But like some Aussie ninja Helen just ducked the thing  as  it flew past her head went flying around the house and turned direction coming straight towards me hitting me in the skull.

As I fell to my death music played as I took that long dramatic one story fall .
I hit the pavement like Lindsey Lohans career.

I laid there broken my new best friend speaking to me no gonz don't leave me we could have are own spinoff if only you didn't die .
Shawn my brother I will never forget you but I have just one last thing to say to you are you listening .

Yes mate I am.

And at that moment of dire sadness I ripped the biggest **** .
Shawn busted up laughing as above Helen looked at Ursula
Men are so ******* disgusting .

And later as they all sat looking down upon me from the veranda Helen furious at her man slaves betrayal told her partner in crime slash killer kangaroo .

Ursula go fetch the battery out of the car and the ****** clamps someone is going to be punished .
Shawn's face lit up with joy yay he exclaimed .
Helen shoot him a look .

I mean oh no such horror please don't torture me mistress   .
But hey don't judge them there not freaks there Australian.

Ursula shook her head as she made her way to fetch the car battery .
Jesus Christ why couldn't I have been Mel Gibson's pet.

Helen looked down one last time at her dead brothers body .
But to her surprise he was   gone .
The dramatic Halloween music played as Shawn looked to his evil temptress slash wife .

Mistress was that the boogeyman?

She slapped the **** outta him **** no its just that lovable perverted misspelling ***** across the water everyone calls Gonzo.

She shook her head and laughed to herself .
We will meet again my friend .


Until next time kids or Helen finds and actually kills
me stay crazy.

Gonz
I'm not afraid to do the Lord's work.
You say Vengeance was here before,
but i say i was there first.
I'll do my business in the name of the Lord
because its no secret.
If you're not ready to die
best prepare for it and await its coming.
My testimony testifies
longing for your sincere replies

You can always call the police,
call the coroner,
call the sheriff,
call the entire fearless hood.
I put my fears in my holster,
smoke the cold breeze
win the ladies with two knees
and stand tall like the street lights.

I know the pleasure
in a man's strength.
Heaven comes down
like a cold rain.
There would be no shelter for the weak-hearted.
No place you can go.

Put all your hands and fists in wild cheer,
someone put a tall ring amongst us,
caging us both.
I'm a vigilante,
you're a wanted man
and everybody knows

Traces of The Whip
at my back.
Its deep, dark and long
because i have a history
The sun shone
My head struck
My mind fuzzy,
The searing heat.
Alas!
Reminiscencing can be such a wierd mental journey.
Spaces  all the same,dimensions but different
Ideas the very same rushing in to fill voids old
From heads stuffed of past Imitations dead
Straight walls ever rising up,closing places free
Square,stiff,solid,regurgitating hard, spirits staid
The same colors but in different places, limited,
sick,drained of mind,with an empty soul I wept
Dear innovation creative where are you my angel?
Staring at space blank unchained to past I pondered
The angels  came unannounced unknowing softly,
rushing to a heart,empty of mind,surrendered to an intent pure,
Dancing,guiding unfettered,intuitively fantastic,instinctively right
The walls falling away,squares smoothing to curves ****
New visions exciting,opening to vistas of unknown hues wondrous
That very dead space now alive,conducting,guiding a design philharmonic
"I" was but a medium,absorbing,directing flashes from unknown
Driven in a flash flood of euphoria unknowing, to an ocean creative
Knowing not what unchained me,setting me free for that Destiny fine,
Of Innovation. May be love or despair,whatever, Divinity came.
Red Starr Jan 2013
Candy apple lips
Black, then green eyes
Hair, a tidal wave rolling down her back

She is comic-book pretty
The boys come to look
They sit and stare at her form

She just looks at the moon
And cries

She is a snail
Dark and slimy
Crawling along the ground

They say she shines like the sun
But sees only the moon
She knows nothing of the beauty outside

A black net caught it
Trapped it one day
With words taking swings like fists

She felt them
Absorbed them
Now those words are chains
hanging around her neck

"******* *****"
"Stupid ******* *****"
"******* ugly as hell"

The words were followed
With hammers and nails
Locked doors
Glass shards
Her neck pressed hard to the floor

She escaped that death
Is finding a new life
One without bitter swords

But right now, she cannot believe
This beauty they see
After years of being torn apart
shannon Jan 2015
When we are born there are hopes and dreams,
On the path we follow, enemies are made,
Cruelty forced upon us, tearing at our seams
The existence of the world is enveloped in flames, fire and decay.

Everywhere we turn – a wasteland waves,
Isolated, ruined, desolate
Negativity runs deep, tagged metal in their waist bands
The urge to be free, unchained, untagged.

Meadows of green grass and daisies and yellow roses,
towering the shadows, no worries about,
Winter creeps; silently, swiftly, suavely. Now
an ocean of black roses remain in power.

Oh colourful canvas, how beautiful you used to be,
Now you’re smothered in the greyness of despair,
An intimidation of words aggressively written,
And the pain never ends

That desperate wish that someone could care!

This noose I tie is never tied tight enough,
The glistening light shivers a hope for eternal sleep
Such a shame the cut never succeeds
And an only friend has gone  

Facebook, MySpace, Twitter;
He made himself the target and ****** in,
He took their advice, took the bullet,
Their words are a complete and utter sin

My, my it was that hilarious! Honestly.
The world corrupt, no social networks,
What a laugh it was; all fits and giggles
The importance never occurred

We- the kids of this generation- know nothing
but how to navigate the internet
Them- the adults of the era- that want the best
ignorant to the life on the information highway

This world is changing,
This world is ending,
This society, will become my newest nightmare
This society, will become your newest warfare
Hungered for a taste
  of your elixir's essence,
drunken inhalations
   of your poetry
a splendiferous whirl
 of time & space 'tween
darkly scented moons
    and sun's adoration,
blithe starry nights
amidst meditative new
dawn's effervesce,
 spirited of the heart,
gleaned in the soul,
yearnings of another
  chapter's paradise
universal experiences
etched of hourglass sand,
 written upon endlessly
    chimerical verses
wildflower gardens drenched
    of dandelion's plum wine
swooning under a
hypnotic scripted spell,
intoxicating power
of unchained symphonies
dancing amongst skies'
released euphoria
 resonating in a song's
   reprised melodies,
breathlessness of delirium's
  celestial pauses
  in vaporous breezes'
  unfurling undulation,
captivated by rhythmic
  destiny reverberating in
     *****' pleasurable calling
  quenched of sacred
     offering's quell
transcending earthly
   persuasions' rhyme,
let me lick the nectar from
   your  poesy's  insatiable  lips,
sweet mercy's healing
   captured in rapturous
   surrender's reawakening ~

Je veux que vous tous,

tu me manques*



Ce que vous manquez de moi?
Je te veux - I want you
tu me manques - I miss you
NickBlockOneLove Sep 2013
long live your rivals
for one is your idol
buddha is my jesus
and dharma is the bible
now what i have up here
is something new to your ears
actually listen to me
now let me begin

write a new rhyme
man find a new sound
you can't even believe
this **** that i found
all these things on my mind
everyday
they make me drown
in my thoughts
everyway
my imagination wonders
around all over the place
think about the universe
how did man begin to learn in this space
i'll go on about the mysteries later in time
***  i'm slightly ashamed of myself
i believe in all these things
my momma can't perceive
things my momma can't can't even believe
i shouldn't worry about what she thinks
*** i'm just doing what i do
i'm being all that i can be
but i can' help but think
that i keep on making julie drown deep in my thoughts
i just can't stop and think i'm lettin julie down
down to somewhere we never should have been
*** i can' help but think
that i keep on making julie drown in my thoughts

long live your rivals
for one is your idol
Karma is my jesus
and Buddha wrote the bible
now what i have up here
is something new to your ears
actually listen to me
now let me begin

listen to what i say
no you don't believe
*** man i'm slighlty insane
i may have to say
the acid opened up my mind
to all the things
that man cannot explain
but people looking down
*** the man hides the truth
from the masses
for what they claim
is for the good of us all
but in reality
its just misconstrued
perception
they want you to believe
but you know i always dream
what is reality
spend my whole days
only to realize
theories, ideas and such
nothing concrete
only things to think sublimely
when a mind feels ashamed
you just need a signal
to release all these gains
django unchained
metaphor of simple self contain
let me to believe
that everything that i conceive
is just a method
that leads to compassionate leave
letting julie down is no relief
its just brings pain to my soul
everything that i perceive

long live your rivals
for one is your idol
Shiva is my jesus
mother earth wrote the bible
now what i have up here
is something new to your ears
actually listen to me
let me begin

Long Live your rivals
for one is your idol
the space is my jesus
and the time wrote a bible
now what i have up here
is something new to your ears
actually listen to me
let me begin

Long live your rivals
for one is your idol
Reality is my jesus
perception wrote the bible
now what I have up here
is something new to your ears
I hope you listened to me
I was not always who I am,
In fact, I don't even resemble my previous self.
My friends, if in fact you are reading this,
Put all your old memories on a shelf.


Do you remember the freshman who was always quiet?
The one you might have seen down the hall?
The one everyone called a friend,
But never really knew at all?

You know the one, how can you forget,
His shoes and shaggy hair?
The way he smiled to himself,
When you didn't notice that he was there?

Do you remember the timid laughter,
As he struggled to fit in?
Coming to the monstrous place,
Where not a single person knew him.

I'll bet you never knew.
No, I know you never did.
All the feelings, thoughts, words, actions,
Were all the things he ever hid.

He strut his stuff down dusty hallways,
Secretly hating the way he was.
Incapacitated by his own ignorance,
Choosing to just accept his flaws.


Do you remember the sophomore who always smiled?
The one who was called the nicest boy?
Of course you do, everyone does,
You said his presence was enjoyed.

This was the year he began to see,
The direction his life was going.
He stopped dead, shocked, in his tracks,
When he saw was he was becoming.

He hated himself to the point of breaking,
But he didn't break, he just bent.
He resigned himself, accepted his fate,
As his heart and confidence were rent.

He receded into himself and his life,
Refusing to push harder; to push on.
If only the poor idiot had known,
He could have worked to a faster dawn.

But instead he became lazy,
People only knew him as the nice guy.
And for a while he was satisfied,
Until he found the final question: Why?


Do you remember the junior who always looked high?
As though his mind was always far away?
Of course you do, everyone does.
Because that was the year he learned to play.

That was the year that people finally saw,
Another side to the quiet, nice guy.
That was the year that would change everything,
Because he decided to change what was inside.

"Why?" is such a simple question,
But one that entails the entirety of life.
It was in this search that the boy,
Found something deeper in all his strife.

This was the beginning of a new path,
One that took years to complete.
But it was one that led him higher,
A throne to replace his lowly seat.

He finally learned to love himself,
He learned to throw caution to the wind.
He learned to build and better himself,
He finally learned to love again.

These things did not come easily,
Nor were they close to instant.
The path was long and tedious,
But the boy was finally persistent.

Only a small change was noticed,
He took his seat among varsity ranks.
People noticed a personality,
Where once before had seemed so blank.

The few who he let closest,
Noticed something deep within him first.
Two helped him build and grow,
One tried taking his potential for herself.

Fighting through he found himself,
Another year had passed him by.
But what the boy finally knew,
Was that he could change who he was inside.

Do you remember that one senior boy,
Who walked the halls with a grin and hint of swagger?
Of course you do, how could you forget,
This was the year that boy became bigger.

He suddenly wasn't just the quiet or nice guy,
Everyone looked on as if he were new.
What was the confidence that was in his eyes,
Where once only weakness and fear grew?

This was the question everyone asked him,
The one that everyone wanted to know.
What had happened over that summer,
That caused this whole new person to show?

He couldn't give them an answer,
How could he describe what he had done?
How could have possibly explain,
That he had learned to let go, live, and love?

Suddenly the ones who had ignored him,
Were asking him for his advice.
It felt so good to be validated,
After a lifetime of cowardice.

Do you remember the first game of the season,
When he blew the crowd away?
The ferocity and abandon that he carried,
It was his new favorite way to play.

Do you remember the first dance of the year,
When suddenly he was dating the track star?
Nobody could believe she came onto him,
The quiet boy who had come so far.

Do you remember how he was suddenly important?
It was because he knew all the dark and ***** secrets.
The quiet boy you thought meant nothing,
Suddenly knew everyone's weakness.

Do you remember how he led the class?
He was suddenly leadership material.
You cheered him and his team,
When the trophy was hung with his orange Mercurials.

Only one person thought to ask him,
What exactly had happened, what had changed?
He smiled quietly, once again and said,
I let myself out of my cage.

It took four years for him to love himself,
To find confidence among his fears.
To build himself into a better person,
To gain the respect of all his peers.

The hardest part throughout it all,
Was not to feed on his new found pride.
To retain the innocence of his past,
And somehow keep kindness in his stride.

He was voted friends with everyone,
And indeed, he truly was.
An entire school known by name,
He graduated to thunderous applause.


Do you remember the college freshman?
No, of course you don't.
You haven't really met him yet,
Most of you probably won't.

He's doing well, the quiet boy,
He finally found a balance in good and pride.
He thanks you for teaching him about himself,
The testing grounds where he reached inside.

He thanks you for being exactly what you were,
Some kind, some not, some indifferent.
Without each and everyone one of you,
He might have remained weak and ignorant.

Now he lives his life the best he can,
Living and loving each and every day.
He lets cares pass him all by,
Only letting peace and happiness stay.

He learned to love himself,
That the most important of all that changed.
The confidence and wisdom inspired him,
To live his life unchained.

Surrounding himself with the best people,
Loving life and all its trials.
Holding those he cares about,
Almost forgetting the quiet boy in denial.


I've written here about who I was,
Because it defines who I am today.
I am no longer the weak, quiet boy,
I think the confidence is here to stay.

Learning to love myself,
Was the key to my happiness.
Everything good that has happened since,
Is a result of choosing to leave the sadness.

I write not for my own vindication,
Although in hindsight, it sounds this way.
I merely wish to express my changes,
In as few memories as I must say.

I've lost precious minutes here,
Typing out this soliloquy.
And now I fear that it must end,
There is more life for me to see.

Here I go, into the night,
Who knows what I will find.
I love to live my amazing life,
With this peaceful state of mind.
I realized that I am at an extremely happy moment in my life and I wanted to spend some time remembering how I got here. All of the toils and troubles and terrible experiences that I had have culminated to this one moment, this one day, this one year. Every choice I made, every word I said has been working towards the state of happiness I now experience. If I write with more than a hint of ego it is because I do feel pride for having come so far from the person I used to be.
Terry O'Leary Dec 2013
Flings and wings and rings rejected…
Cupid’s arrows fly deflected…
“It clearly is too late” she signed, “to love, adore or pay me mind”

Penciled lines drew cruel conclusions
mocking mirror’s cracked illusions…
Sometimes, in time, I hang awhile, reflected in her parting smile

Drifting wan, below unheeding
worried, wounded suns a’ bleeding…
Struck dumb by night, no way to say “Let’s sound the stars another way”

Shaking sands frame distant smokestacks,
shanty towns, forsaken oak shacks…
Pursuing dusk, collapsed and dyed, the docile dolphin deftly stride
beyond behind the ebbing tide, towards One-Way Ships of sunken pride


Gypsy dreamer in denial…
Sleep and slumber standing trial…
I never really ever slept inside the cryptic walls she kept

Martian moons provoke the oceans…
Strange enchantments stir the potions…
The mutant molten purple skies ignite subconscious fireflies

Voiceless echoes feigning laughter…
Crushing quiet screaming after…
Vague vagaries pretend to sleep, my conscience crumbles in a heap

Startled stars at dawn are slacking…
Still her tempest sail is tacking…
In fractured dreams sere silhouettes blow foghorns, trumpets, clarinets…
Discarded glowing cigarettes tinge One-Way Ships with pale regrets


Cold cathedral clocks upended…
Frozen second hands suspended…
Beneath the gauze of time I try to while away somewhere nearby

Ticking-tocking time’s a’ tolling…
Cruel eternity’s cajoling…
The future, tattered, calls bereft, with nothing but her shadows left

Brigantines skim gated grottos…
Distant divas voice vibratos…
Though eons pass, then intermix, I’m trapped ’tween time’s untallied ticks

Conquered candles flicker faintly…
Braided tresses quiver quaintly…
Demystified, untamed in time, her face is traced in puppet mime…
Amorphous tongues of jangled rhyme hail One-Way Ships that glide sublime


Bolts of lightning flash unkindly…
******, alone, I huddle blindly…
I drain another dram and bray “she’s far too far too far away”

Twisted waterwheels a’ thirsting…
Flaming flower buds a’ bursting…
Adrift, I stagger far below their unchained magic rainbow glow

White crowned wave crests break unbounded…
Shackled seashore sands lie pounded…
Unleashed, beyond the bridled world, her silver sails, cut loose, unfurled

Captive bluebirds nest in baskets…
Morning glories cover caskets…
Wee ballerinas swirl and spin while giant jokers smirk and grin
and, wasted, I withdraw within carved One-Way Ships in flasks of gin


Hungary hounds harangue the highlands,
howl at skies and desert islands…
Below, unfettered carbon crows conceal the parting path she chose

Lighthouse lamps and lanterns lolling…
Mute abandoned fleets are calling…
The shallow shadowed portholes vaunt dim traces of the past that haunt

Curved magnetic curtained faces
yearn contorted brief embraces…
Her fairy-tale like tattoo touch was serpentine but soft as such

Coffee cups and spoons corroding…
Mystic tea leaves, visions boding…
A cabaret calls, standing bare, beneath a splintered footloose stair,
vain vapors drape her vacant chair in One-Way Ships beyond repair


Splattered days are dripping dreary…
Shattered nights are wearing weary…
Without her footfall at my side I steal away within to hide

Fancies flame, persist to flaunt her…
Wanton whispers hiss I want her…
Hyenas, haggard, held at bay, still gnaw on bones of yesterday

Graveled graveyards grey and ghastly…
Apparitions pacing past me…
The answers to my whys and sighs have veiled her limpid pale blue eyes

Lurid figments storm the valleys
****** the helms of spectral galleys…
The coughing phantoms at the wheel, they make it all seem so unreal…
Rebounding cracks of thunder’s peal, shake One-Way Ships while seagulls squeal


Yesterday’s unsung, unspoken…
Bygone paths fold, draped and broken…
The weary winds of winter cling to voiceless nightingales and sting

Desert blossoms growing colder…
Drifting sand dunes pause, enfold her…
An arctic kiss and blush revealed forbidden pipe dreams flung afield

Weeping willows’ wilting snow drops
drip on tips of tiny toe tops…
Their opal fires bleed and fade while suns explode in icy jade

Jagged hours hangin’ heavy…
Footsteps pace the barren levee…
While pros and cons and kings debate, acclaim and blame and fame equate
the ruin’s remnants left to fate with One-Way Ships that fail to wait


Blazing blades of love surrender…
Memories and thoughts transcend her…
The Persian gazer’s crystal shows I’ve truly lost my ruby rose

Buried deep in evening’s embers
dust forgets what flesh remembers…
The bitter taste of farewell’s haste has laid the ****** skies to waste

Ruffled ravaged ravens ranting…
Churlish ancient churchmen chanting
resounding what she told me true “There’s nothing more that you can do”

Trial adjourned by judge and jury…
Freed, she flees, absolved of worry…
Remaining runes and relics burn to feed the ashes of the urn…
Six seers, wiser, soon discern the One-Way Ships of no return
Lynne Apr 2013
I am a child of the earth.
My God holds me in his arms
Gives me challenges
Always pulls me back up

I am a child of my mother
My God gave me breath
Gives me joy
Always brings me to freedom.

I am a free soul.
I channel my God.
I am the earth.
I am myself.
And you -

You tried to jail me
You tried to take away my God
in exchange for your own.
But you-

You lost.

I am free.

I will never kiss you again
and let you steal my spirit away.
Fay Slimm Oct 2016
Love has undrowsed me.
Unglued sleepy eyes.
Attachment disarmed me, now I realize
Love has unveiled me.
Uncaged my lost soul.
Resistance alarmed me, now I feel whole,
Love has unleashed me.
Untied tired heart.
Loving disarmed me, now living can start.
Love has undressed me,
Now naked I lie.
I no longer fake it and know reasons why.
Love has unchained me.
Denel Kessler Nov 2016
It is not enough to see
a soul will manifest
what has been sown
immortal purple flame
gnarled roots in stone
the truth of nature
an external blooming
expression of the world

a flourishing vision
voraciously spreads
animating the meadow
with honey-scented breeze
steep slopes sweetened
magnificent blossoms
open lavender wings
to conquer the sky

here the air is thin
windblown seeds
so carelessly thrown
to harsh alpine soil
become willful weeds
persistently untamed
internally unchained
forever wild flowers
Lupine are symbolically associated with imagination, inner guidance, self-reflection, and the development of wisdom that sees beyond polarizing dualities.
Senor Negativo Sep 2012
Into the bubbling blue bath of my bliss
my body breaks free of all bounds;
enchanted melodies cavort across my tongue,
unchained continents of merriment.
Shooting stars; cool satisfaction coats me completely.
I have lost all curiosity for torture technique,
while this melody bounces across the cosmos.
My imperfect lovely: Perfectly fractured,
all my shattered pieces fit your holes,
and even now, I glue pieces of you into the slots they fit.

A singular petal glistening with dew,
Deep crimsom; long stemmed tulip.
Black eyes, its stamen. Shedded insight,
I lowered my body before you, as offering.
How will you devour this dream of desire?
It is a feast to be consumed, in small bites,
and copious servings of seconds.
Do not allow this flower to fade,
it may save you from yourself.

Blessings bestowed before bedtime
often fade away by dawn,
give thanks for the present,
draw strength from the past,
take heart, what is meant to be
will always last...
in the end.
Deneka Raquel Jun 2014
I am not a writer.
I am not good with words,
I cannot speak up for myself,
It is my pen that bleed words.
No amount of convincing can give me conviction.
No amount of clarification can make that distinction.
Please refrain from using titles.

I am not a writer.
I am just a dreamer,
Dreaming dreams of inverted galaxies
Where complexities are reduced to simplicity,
And maybe love wouldn't be so complicated.
I dream of a world where I'll be unchained and liberated,
Because currently freedom is hard to go by.

I am not a writer.
I am just another over thinker,
I stay up all night disassembling the world,
So I can put it back together.
Adding new features that I think will make it better
I get lost in thoughts, and day-mares, fantasies and others,
I obsess and I always suffer.

I am not a writer.
Though sometimes I am photographer,
Snapping,
Close ups and selfies of my terrible mind.
Giving glints of places you won't usually find,
All because I write sometimes.
I just express my emotions is what I'm trying to say. This poems sounds like I'm rambling..
Jo Aug 2014
our lives are all lotteries.
a game of chance,
at best.
we have all succumbed to it,
gambled our freewill away.
to those who haven't,
who are still unchained,
it calls
sit down at the table,
let me deal you a hand

read the fine print
young man,
for once you sit,
you may never leave
Connor Thompson Sep 2016
Deep beneath the earth a companion flows as liquid into his soul, filling every curve, slip and crack.
86 fathoms below, a man is filled and unchained from his solitude
creating a place for the mind to swim in one infinite breath.
Swimming to the surface
Thunder roars, lightning strikes: releasing him from beneath. He climbs out.
There she stands in front, electrified. From head to toe, she inflames him, illuminating the night sky.
The man approaches, thwarted by his ambition and
left into stasis, as he watches her.
Frozen, her eyes lock onto his.
Enduring, he learns her true feeling.

— The End —