The aforementioned hedonism, strokes caught up wisdom unmatched by bearish grizzled forms artfully adorned who unmatched then seeks the goal, the post is moved like hell-bent verses that sway from lips underneath the stellar waves amber moons have come to fade, the shades dance in cunning bottled knowhow sent abyss, but she renounced the second wish, so one more laceration coming to the kin, akin to whiplash softly brims and send the message soft and clear, the dithery clouds have parted seer.
Why is Congress infected with socialism
which only creates division and schism
Seems to me it’s 'cos Congress just rolls over, plays possum
to forked-tongue liars like Obama, Biden and Trump
The electorate is finally fed up with representatives who won’t fight
against emperors without clothes like the aforementioned chumps
So now they’re voting for charlatans who shout, yell and scream
~ hard-core commies who'll kill forever the American Dream
Spacemeat. The light cone enfolds the individual effectually creating a ghost through geometric topology. The negative of the person, the "ghost" is a result of the lensing of the original person's light cone interacting with a tertiary lightcone that predicates it's future on the subsequent intermingling of the light cones. The result is essentially apodictic insofar as the consequential nature of the topological result is the determinant by which the conclusion from the incipient portion of the status aforementioned is solidified. Spacemeat.
My traveling, checkered sky,
A dome I convey, this portable sanctuary,
Heavy and hard, but expresses greatness,
At the same time, anchors my quick travel.
The sky’s song in motion, beautiful to my dismay,
And I can only see the foamy waters up to the horizon,
Sore leather oars row through the sand,
Practically aching for liquid muscle.
Daystar pounds my head, rays spill on grainy grit,
Deafening calls from the aforementioned avians,
Crossing the silver margin, pulled into shivering silk,
At last, the heavy earth lets go, and home is a world without walls.
We have gen X, Y and Z
But what of A, B and C
Discounting the one celled amoeba
And Darwin
Perhaps Gen A was
Adam
Alone in the garden
With Eve
Gen B
Working on
Gen C
The rest are lost
Amid Cain and Abel
Noah
The Arc
And a lot of
the “begots”
And “begettin”
That has led
To the aforementioned
Gen X, Y and Z
123.
Discreet Persecution
So you think I've been deaf & blind
Who can't hear & see from behind?
Doors & walls clearly speaking
Floors & roads plainly showing
Omens so artificial
Messages so diabolical
Tired of listening
To a cat meowing?
Want it o go hide & seek
Knowing that it's already weak?
Wanted/Missing without search
Whipped & slashed by thorny birch
What more discreet persecution
Pack & throw, chop & burn?
Can't imagine such bloody reckonings
Longing for more sufferings?
You think my mind shall be conditioned
With such dreadful gleamings aforementioned?
And after such bloody execution
Behold the Almighty's retribution!
-05/22-23/2012
(Dumarao)
*My Painful Poems Collection
Humans adore flowers;
They say dolphins adore humans too;
But you take it for granted;
A human.
…Hm…Among the list of pleasures,
He surely must like flowers too;
But why?
Why does a human like flowers?
Why does a piece of the abyss,
Like this other specific piece of abyss?
What does connect those two?
Why doesn’t a human like belts?
Blocks of cement,
Or iron?
Why doesn’t he keeps,
The aforementioned
As embroidery in his house?
But he keeps flowers;
He embellishes his house,
With flowers;
While some are content
to go with the flow
others are compelled to speed up
and overtake wherever they go
perhaps it's a challenge
to the aforementioned latter
altho' not a contest
something's the matter
as how much earlier
do they think they'll arrive
by constantly changing lanes
whenever they drive
or do they feel a need for their car
to be ahead of the pack
rather than stay in their place
at the traffic's far back
whomever they are
something's wrong in the head
for with such mad driving
the sooner they'll end up dead
To penetrate the fresh bloom of a flower,
is a rare joy, a kind of love felt deeply,
when virgins struggle, full of desire's power,
then collapse in warm, sensual link so sweetly.
With one, I have not known such love before;
not in a touch, but found in books and lines,
a joy that I love, rapturously explore,
and whose sung beauty lyrically shines.
Although I'll never know the former love
aforementioned, the Muse's consolation
is my reward: chaste, and pure as a dove,
she uplifts me to peaks of inspiration!
If love must be to love a woman only,
then the Muse's bloom keeps me from being lonely.
We were worlds apart, yet when words were selected
Something special happened, and we became elected
We chatted about our families, us in generalisation
Our works, our likes, our wants, to familiarisation
Next thing we knew, I, flight booked, nigh on 8000 miles
Upon landing at 'Ninoy' to be met with hundreds of smiles
McBlimey, I said to myself, is Eloisa amidst those faces
Even my eyes focusing in, struggling their radar traces
On the exiting from arrivals, I heard a sweet voice say
"James" as I turned around, my focus in smiling stay
Taxi pickup, hotel bound, with chitter chatter, we're sound
Week to week passing we're sweet, on Philippine ground
Intramuros, Batangas, Santa Rosa, and onto Lake Taal
Me loving Volcano's, we Tagaytay, looking down in thrall
Having seeing the aforementioned, to Manila we'd head back
So, so hard to leave this lush, and so hope there's no wrack
I'm now standing in the middle of the road, waving goodbye
She never turned, turnaround, we two, too emotional in cry
X
Dear General Public will you pardon me? Inclusive
with grace and give me mercifulness.
A green light to advance, proceed. May I express
Myself?
Who will wipe the tears off from my eyes? That
Society has caused these aforementioned inner
pain that oftentimes overwhelms me
May I express myself?
The affection of my mother,
a solemn silence of apathy and burning,
the affection that assisted my inevitable yearning,
yearning for fondness, empathy, passion and love,
a cemented wish from the fumes above,
the fumes which escaped from my annual candle,
the vehemence too disconsolate for a young girl to handle,
the solemn silence remains a verifiable memory,
embossed into my soul as if an accessory,
the annual candle, the wish aforementioned,
the yearning, the exigency for a mothers affection.
God is not a cliche,
but a derivative of historical man's interpretation
via ancient civilizations' understanding
as to what a 'deity'
symbolic model
that they had extrapolated
for the mere reason of
controlling the masses
by undergoing thorough
the guides and, or guise
known as
"centralization of ideology."
Easy if you got a book
like a Bible,
or a Koran,
or a Torah,
etc.
Egypt had Ra,
Romans had Jupiter,
Greeks had Zeus,
Norsemen had Odin
and American Indians according to their tribes
and Hawaiians had them too
our's was Kane
Thanks to the missionaries,
who had brought the 'g'od fact into perspective,
via,
the capitalization factor.
In my view,
'tis a futile attempt of
The Early Churches
to part WAY
what I--
and the silent,
have known ...
in the aforementioned.
It was part of my thesis
for Theology Admittance
when I was 16,
extra points for raw concept
methinks ethnic bias--Hawaii College.
Easy with my Mom, ...
"Just 'mum' on that subject son."
If you could look into your future and choose one day to see what would happen, what day would that be and why...
I pick tomorrow.
I wake up, have my coffee, sugar, and cream, then read emails, and messages, open up poetrysoup and read poems, and comments, then write comments, and poems or go shopping, pick up meds, post office get mail, eat out, doctors, labs, x-rays, physical & occupational therapy visits, and those unexpected visits like a salesman. Then there's the neighbor, a longtime friend, and of course the, few and far in-between family visits. There are also some sports events or an interesting movie on the TV.
Then, that routine that I've accustomed myself to -- suddenly stopped, and the probability it would most likely concern a medical issue.
Given my present conditions, what would happen...is the question being asked of me for an answer.
I fear that the aforementioned routine will come to a catastrophic and prolonged medical end.
If not The End...
Betrayal's kiss was liquidly subtle, wet with firm
intuition
It's knowing lips soft & unassuming exuded
an aura of lust
Full of temptation it beckoned me portraying
illusions of trust,
but behind the mask were sharp teeth seeking
bloody incisions
The intimacy came with bad intentions closely
guarding its actions,
but being adjacent afforded insight into its
deadliest passions
My reaction were firewalls to be erected
at once,
as I stood in the middle of 2 pillars pondering
destruction of fronts
The aforementioned affront was spoken of to
the deepest of mind,
but was ignored as toxic venom intoxicated
the mind
The silver lining? A coined phrase hanging
like ropes from a tongue
"Make sure that you look before you leap" as more
betrayals will come
The warning was heeded so I escaped by the
skin of my teeth,
as the streets watched the intersections speaking
of the fate I would meet
In the end, I was delivered from the mouth of
the beast, emerging with mindset
firmly intact
I was meat, but indigestible because my peace
brought equilibrium back
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