Farewell Poetry Soup, to my Challenge run
I've surpassed the goal I set to pass someone
and I confess it didn't take very long to do
before becoming addicted, but now I'm through
There's no poetic achievement that I found
in blacking out words of others, round after round
Or in analyzing a poem written by another poet
I'm not a laureate and humbly admit, I know it
So, have it the challenges, you who are gung ho
It was fun for a while but I'm moving on, so...
wheels and magnetic boards for me... no more
I won't comment on poems just to up my score
It was interesting to play for a while but I'm done
Writing poetry I conceive on my own is more fun
Amusing were the known AI users who chose to play
those whose words written without AI are on display
Passions portrait does dark in your eyes when you can't separate the pupil from the light there's dark in your eyes when you see nothing but Darkness plates this dark in your eyes when they're blacking and there's no Ivory silhouette you are feigning you're Blinded By Your Truth by the Light this dark in your eyes when you straddle when you fail this dark in your eyes when you're blinded and you're dismayed and you're an egg so Freedom's plight darkness is the night but yet a pinch drop of Lights displays the dark and your longer blind before you see the light shines through your hearts eyes
finally out at last...
spent seven 'daze'
in the hospital...
was blacking out
collapsing in a haze...
an 'imp' proved
to be bacterial...
noticeably better now
glad to be back...
stan lee
The leaden gray blacking clouds
Open up and drops me upon the earth.
I fill the lakes and make the rivers run.
I fall into the hustle and bustle of crowds
As they huddle under their umbrellas.
My wet glistening drops tip-tap dance
Quenching the thirst upon nature.
I am cool as I fall on surfaces like rooftops.
My rhythmic soothing sound
Lulls even the savage beast to sleep.
3/23/2024
Would you still love me
if I never tore you apart
Took off your face paint
Got under your skin
Looked behind those hazel eyes
Put you back together again
better than before
say you didn’t snore
Lie true my teeth
catching these words falling through my mind
Would you still love me if I never thought deep
Seen outside the cosmos
went back and forth through time
put it into rhyme
Walked across the face of the sun
dug into its core
Came back to earth in a coronal mass ejection
blacking out cities
sowing fields with magnetism
Would you still love me without my indignation
to question god
Why he needed man
was there even a plan
Tell him human intelligence is driving us mad
how I see an abstract shape of eternity
From my perspective
one where we never die
So would you still love me if I wasn’t a poet
No, you would tell me I’m a pain!
for going with the grain
not speaking out, or freaking out
Bowing my head, whilst closing my mind
pretending I’m blind
You love a man not a poet
I love you too
because unlike this
you just don’t crow it
Oliver Twist
Great Expectations
A Christmas Carol
author Charles Dickens
worked in a boot-blacking factory at age twelve
after father was sent to debtor’s prison
campaigned vigorously for children’s rights
When the panic attacks first started, I brushed them off.
At first, I would feel shocked and surprised by them.
But surprisingly able to stand after.
And even run out of my car so I’m not late.
It’s only a few minutes.
Maybe a couple times a day.
Or three, or whatever.
Yes, sure, I have time.
When I started blacking out, it felt even shorter.
And I could just count down until I gently went under.
But it’s easy enough to recover.
I won’t let them take over my life.
Even as it gradually gets worse.
It’s funny how I didn’t think of the damage it would do.
Over a few weeks and then months.
Until it became slowly more unbearable.
Maybe I’m not that strong after all.
Like the siren’s song,
You are drawing me in
Spinning your webs of
Intoxicating tendrils that
Caress at first, holding you close,
Whispering in your ear,
“We will be together forever.”
Drunk with the ecstasy of her promises,
Enraptured by the feeling of power
Coursing through you.
But the most sinister inventions
Are often hidden behind the sweetest smile.
The soft caress becomes an ache,
Starting at your core and working its way outwards;
Where life once flowed now lurks
The pallid pulse of death,
And the spiderweb becomes a pit
Of pitch-black quicksand
Pulling you down,
Filling your mouth,
Your lungs,
Blacking out your vision,
Your consciousness,
Sinking into the fathomless oblivion
Of death’s hypnotizing embrace,
But not before you hear
That whisper in your ear
Held tight in a vise
As your blood turns to ice
“I told you we’d be together forever.”
Your passive aggressive pity party is
blacking out your potential.
Empty bottles scattered across the linoleum floor
Just like the futile coke bags floating in your toilet bowl
Both still congested with the lost memories that occurred last night
Blacking out under the twilight
Stars crashing down on the rooftop
Where elitists stare unoriginal
Doesn’t bother me much
I’ll try and find their stash and share it with worthy list souls
Sh*tty party on repeat
Cliques tapping their feet simultaneously
Soaking in the sulfuric summer heat
Drinking and grinding your teeth
I wouldn’t trade any of these moments
Trying to remember what shoes I wore
What f*cking hat she had on
I want bottles and bags within my reach at all times
The best lines written went up my nose
Carved in my initials
Choking down piss warm beer with the knot in the back of your throat
Pour a shot
Make a toast
To your fruitful dissociation
And, ghost everyone
Recover your faculties in social isolation
Should tardy relief take full years more
To grace fallen visages with angst taut,
Let kind nature her multiplied joys hone,
And gild final grins past art's fickle fault.
May saddest souls that now fret most
Gleam with heaven's grandest succor,
No more numbed by fear's fake ghost;
Free from inky mists and bleak rancor.
The gloomiest of hearts down with care
Shall glitter under jubilation's final glare,
And forget prickly sorrow's ghastly pain;
Wholly unafraid of shame's broken train.
He'll his victorious head at last carry high
After blacking ignominies and stigmas go;
None shall Art's virgin blossoms blight so,
Killing fresh dreams whose sign inch nigh.
This star-crossed champ at last shall reign,
And his chafing fan her dead cheers regain.
I do bitterly fault your restless digits, slatternly time;
Your agile dial's design I defy with mutinous rhyme.
What's the veiled intent of your lightning procession,
Against this snail-mover's beleaguered progression?
In swearing truth say why your sight-eclipsing wings
Party and feast and conjure merry over littler beings.
What sadistic banquets in spooky nooks yonder,
Turn your lot-dwindling schemes ever so fonder?
It's true your snaring turns I strongly loathe,
With damning sneers and deserving derision.
What's that blot against heaven's sternest troth,
Obliterating dancing suns on her creasing face?
To what main gain do your life-slicing edges fly,
Usurping innocent freedoms of humble breath?
Your mulish cruises along snaky course-ways,
Flare spite-perfected ills to slay slowing health.
With daring tropes I’ll yet trim hours’ blacking crime,
And I’ll chide the deadly glooms of carnivorous time.
In this small square room of mental illusion,
I look at my reflection in a state of desolation.
I'm not what I am in this state of confusion,
I'm trampled on the ground by my sense of delusion.
I'm a black-hole in the corner of one of my classes,
absorbing all hatred and negativity that passes.
I see no light, nor a glimmer of hope,
what I haven't learnt is the courage to cope.
I need contraceptives for my mind.
Can't bear this cynicism and broken lies.
My thoughts are sown with verbal abuses,
raised by water like the weeds on turf-grasses.
Solitude was my belief in transient relief.
Its not a permanent cure, but just a relief.
When I snap out of it, I'm in the very same shoes,
I'm leached out of my strength, from out of the blue.
Escape from reality has never been an option.
Blacking out on drugs have never been a solution.
The past three years, I have witnessed huge losses,
instead of the results, now I discern the causes.
It might not just be mine, but your life too,
But what the wise men say, is indeed true -
Your deep sense of hurt, builds up your power,
because what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger...
The wind blows – quick, hard, fast – the hot stillness is broken
Corn stalks weave wildly as the wind marches through it rows
Dust rises to greet this invading storm
Large drops of heavy rain hit with a thud
Lightening electrifies and paints the blacking sky
Hail rips leaves from their home – a hard crack of thunder
Clouds tumbling, rolling, forming into a funnel
A loud rushing noise – a banshee scream
Trees snap, the wind-train thunders by . . . then a deep silence
Holding hands they arise from underground
Sky clearing, sun peeking through
A double rainbow appears – a promise – life . . . love
THE BLACKING OF THE HOLE
Hello! Mars!
Are you there?
We got some money for you down here!
Do you need some foreign aid
I tell you what we'll do
there's lots of money comin in
we'll beam some up to you!
And if you need some more someday
our address is NASA BLACK HOLE
where we can throw our money in
all day and never go broke!
NASA have spoke!
mo money$ mo money$ mo money$
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