Millions of lives and souls untold
And to account it all
Words, lines, films
A sliver of soft, scarlet ribbon
Writers flare with passion so strong
Filling minds with fantasies, reveries, histories
We consume it all like freshly baked bread
We feed until we are engorged and fed
A viral, universal mess
Ideas and unmade memories
Nothing more or less
My eyes remain glued to the screen
Living it all out
Tears dare to flow—to doubt
I should have thought of that
Can I truly let myself believe,
Someone else lived that!
Pound away your directors, script-writers, fighters
For miles and miles of stories remain unread
While the unknown remain in the grounds of humble malnourishment
Careers for the mind with a twist of the fable
Left us savage for the meal and the crumbs under the table
I can never let the raw truth rest
Naked, bare and empty—soothed
Nothing more or less
I cringed for originality
Observed the world through the unedited scripts
The very act, the poetry pact
The wild animal drooling in the back
I was slapped in the face by my boss who had cracked
As the reviews bloated less and less
They wanted something awful, something flaw-ful—something new
And this empty brain in agony—HISSED
I have lived in no epic battle of account
Of the collateral sufferings of my brothers
The stories the red carpet smothers
And still I ache to create
Before the other ones discover
I returned with ‘‘oh me’s’ and ‘oh my’s’’
With a work of pure genius—a storybook of lies
Nothing more or less
Little have I lacked to dream
Of contortioned pulls and dramatic fire
Stories that rarely brittle or tire
I fiddled with precious glass on edge
Foully eager for self-damage
As if it would trigger some legitimate spark
Searching for creatures and features in the dark
No one unlocked the passage that night
For the starving idea-parched malice of right
But all welcomed with open arms
A pale mannequin filled with jewels and charms
Consuming, fuming dooming
All ghosts hoping, screaming, looming
Hoping that one day they would find themselves on the big screen
Their legacy real as it can possibly get
Nothing more or less
'Boko Haram' is not an enemy.
It's a subject in an economy
of a corrupt country.
To The Bank And Ballroom Delights
Right here right now explosions!... excited fuses!... Bombs going off!
In the back ally by the river bank
History rising to gun shots, balloons and music
Too fast to stop as something goes off
Ballroom dancing in the dark next door
Stumbling into the bank
Alarms going off. Shots going off. Babies screaming for a change
Drinks in three or more hands or so it seems
A little blurred and fuzzy on the scene
Music blaring, people dancing
Yellow wall flowers flying off the walls
Exploding, floating on the edges
With my sweetie peach we dance all night
In hand in flight over silver lights, flashing reds overhead
Music rocks history to death in the speed of numbered steps
Caresses of my baby warm against the flesh
Power drums pounding at the door of love
Feels so real, moving slowly, growing into building rhythms
Primordial religions spinning on in joy
Tearing yellow flowers off the walls
Hurricane bands of magic raining down on clouds of love
Enhancing, advancing on the living floor
Holding on to dear life, my sweetie pie and I
Guns in our pockets as we rock
We came to rob a bank
Where did it go
Someone pointed to outside
Next to the disco tech is the ballroom dancing hall
By the river bank next door
11/21/14 Ballroom Delights - Poetry Contest
In today's society everyone is operating
on a short fuse,
It seems as if no one has time to spend
on ideas they do not comprehend,
Most people are drunk with power,
and receive satisfaction from seeing
Points of views can become controversial,
Yet, instead of doing role reversals,
Some take offense and think about executing
Who would think that employees harbor ill will
towards one another?
When everyone is there to make a dollar,
Under currencies seethe when wishes are rejected,
Instead of being good sports, some feel disrespected,
Tempers flare, and thoughts persist,
An "uppercut" may seem the way to go,
but in reality, the mere thought is a NO-NO.
In matters of importance & civility,
Guard your hearts out of respect with & humility
There is arise in a delicate strength in numbers & so it may seem
Workplace violence is also determined by levels of deterance;
For the heart is deceitful above all else so who can know it,
One must become attentive toward all forms of posted protocol initiatives
To profile who fits the person in question fits a certain criteria
A brief moment in silence toward any harmless brevity
One must look intently into everyone in our society;
Mark the man who would be willing in which to explore
Justifiaction as an easy ploy?
What would life be like without its protection?
A quest for reason amidst desire;
Let us take a deeper look into this equation
We must strive to learn each day
With matters of detering & detecting our nations borders
In retrospect, with the service that should be implemented;
Each facility must be fully trained in equipping their workers
To become the best one must learn to achieve with quality excellence
In matters of strict enforcement it is of extreme importance
To form an essential delegation & communication
One must never sit still nor lightly negate their responsibility
Those foundational fundamentals that far too
It is important to remember that plans must be implemented to become effective
Security should move to accomadate all party's that are involved
Never to relent nor give into any false compromise system nor structure of thought
Workplace violence prevention should be resolved with the utmost respect & dignity
Throughout the vast expanse in time,
Commuication has been the essential fore runner toward this success...
One must virtual deter & report matters of security;
Since the days previously to the onset of the tragedy that had occured with the events
Immersion in a culture that promotes constant development should be the chief aim.
Marines call to say hello,
impress. I'm over 35 but my boys
19. They could go: Hide!
One moment spent tying a shoe,
another dying, gunshot wound or poisoned food.
Events in their mere chronology
make no sense.
And the details of yr dad's life don't either.
quiet cigarette smoker. But next day,
the butts cleaned into the can. Who does that?
Lady in a skirt or overalls rolled up - cigarette smoke.
Now it's yr dad.
Yr dad who
watches for war.
Even if Uncle Sam disbands, dissolves
we the people will still be here and stay involved
with North America. The purple mountains majesty
and shining seas
little people, big people, brown, red, and white. Addicted
to action movies.
Perhaps there is no choice. One must sit, sitting still
as a buddha, sitting bull.
I can imagine myself and all others - drivers, voters, runners -
little fetal muscles
at first. Metastasizing. What's it called when the cell
at the tip of the organ
or organism, divides, and the organ grows? It's called
girl on a bicycle.
I find I make no sense. Her cunt, a practicality to her, is
delicious to me
a miraculous sea lettuce or snapdragon. You've heard it before.
A moral dilemma
wrapped in robes and silks and odors. Yet, come close,
and business beckons
work gets done, life goes on, hair grows in, we go on
the Marine Corps calls, desperate for new fetuses to teach
purposeful workmanlike killing
I'll do my own killing, thanks, when violence comes to the neighborhood
if I've got your back
your back's gotten and if I'm on point, the point's taken.
One world under God invisible with liberty and justice for all who
Art in heaven
what the hell's his name.
The small war of an especially inept empire. The world's too big
to swallow as the Krauts and Nips found out. Empire
is self-correcting. Them dark-skinned mustachioed shitheads
who can't fix their own electricity seem to be kicking our asses
pert good. As did the gooks before them. All to the good. A
good lesson to know and then we all become friends following
the brawl. We apparently cannot skip the fight. It must
be fought, and fuck the girls.