BADSEEDPRESS is a fabricated enterprise.
Zoltan Goliath and Otis Trench are invented characters,
as are all the other players identified herein as having
had a role in the sweet soul seduction of this sad luck,
rum-soaked dame of a book.
The entire contents of this volume is the product
of the imagination of M. Kalavik. It was all his idea.
BADSEEDPRESS accepts no responsibility
for anything other than words on a page,
but we would like to thank the many sponsors
whose advertisements have acted as fertilizer
spread among the lyrical furrows of this fictional funny farm.
Without their support, this project might not have been thought possible.
We’re all just in it for the money.
Brent Scorn
Non-attorney Spokesperson
BADSEEDPRESS
Disclaimer:
There are rip currents in these waters,
I am choppy and deep;
Warning:
I am a contradiction
There is no box built for me;
I stand out but enjoy not being seen;
Disclaimer:
I dive right into a wave,
and then make a few more;
Warning:
I overthink and then can’t talk;
My mind a chaotic formation,
stoic worn like a mask;
Disclaimer:
I may leave it as is or add to it,
I haven’t decided yet;
Like me, this is a work in progress,
just call it a hot mess.
I am listening to a list of glorious disclaimers on TV
That follow a commercial about a terrific new wonder drug that
helps you blow freckles off your arms.
Usually I am in the kitchen getting
Something to eat by now, but this time I already had my little
banana peanut butter sandwich with two package of chips on my
lap, so I actually listened to these darling side effects:
Possible heart attack
Possible stroke
Possible weight gain
Possible loss of bowel control
Possible lesions
Possible eye damage
Possible liver failure
There are ten others, but do I really need to continue?
I disclaim your anger
Every word I despise
despite your promises
my pounding your walls
my wish to change you
fails.
Your frenzied yells
bounce off my wall
no longer intimidated
impaired by paralysis
this force within
wins.
I fell for you
tiptoed around you
sometimes you accepted
or took me for granted
or used me as crutch
You are now imprisoned
within my indifference
the five recent submissions, were 'penned, 10 years ago.
I have not written anything since.
Thank you for reading.
Just so everyone knows and understands...
For me to take credit for anything that comes from my pen...
would be greedy and selfish of me...
because I do speak on behalf of us...
through me...
to you...
to me...
on behalf of the Creator/Great Mystery...
through me...
to you...
to me...
So doubly...
THANK YOU!!!
And every one else that's been receptive...
because we're all in this TOGETHER!!!
And the only way through this is TOGETHER!!!
We we're given voices for a reason...
It's time to start using them correctly...
And courageously...
with LOVE AND GRATITUDE...
NOT hate and fear...
Stay Safe and Stay Blessed!!!
I can not be held responsible
for what happens with the company's
people start
four out of five small company's fail
granted I believe that creating work
for others is the most important act
creating work to overcome poverty
but company's will fail
granted what I'd like to see
is a world where people cared
but we do know that people steal
I can't control, how other people
act in life
My friend, the judge, made this disclaimer
Since she worked with beasts, who could blame her
“In there it’s too rough
So I’ve had enough.
I’m done being a ly’in tamer!”
I beg all those who read my work to read it for pleasure and not inquiry....I again encourage you to read my poem...Lessons from Sonnet XX regarding this. I will NOT explain myself on content...Please...don't read too much into things.....You can never know what is fiction what is based on reality...DO NOT give yourself the freedom to speculate....Respect privacy. I reveal what I wish....fiction...reality...fantasy...MY choice. Yours to read or not.....If this continues....I may need to pull back....
I'm an old soul,
so don't expect me
to understand this world.
I'm a free spirit,
so don't tie me down,
I'll rip my limbs from the shackles.
I'm a child of the Earth,
so don't count on me
to move my roots.
I'm alive,
so don't think I'm so quick
to die with you.
So let me take you in,
I draw you in so deep.
You won't even know
you're not on your feet,
with your head
shoved so far up my ass.
Your dependence makes me cum
like you can't.
So when we lie in bed
naked and sweaty,
Remember you are nothing
because I am your everything.
I'm a ****ing martyr,
so don't be surprised when I
fake my ******.
I'm married to my weed,
so don't take offense when I'm
lying there numb.
I'm ****ing insane,
so don't get too close to me
you'll become my pet.
I'm a broken mind,
so don't leave me, or
watch me bleed out
So let me take you in,
I draw you in so deep.
You won't even know
you're not on your feet,
with your head
shoved so far up my ass.
Your dependence makes me cum
like you can't.
So when we lie in bed
naked and sweaty,
Remember you are nothing
because you are my everything.
Before my favorite show began,
A message filled the screen
To let the viewers be prepared,
For violence would be seen.
This show is violent every week –
There’s murder, blood and gore;
And last night’s show had nothing
That it hadn’t shown before.
The station heads, however, felt,
In light of recent news,
Perhaps a scene of savagery
Was not what most would choose.
It’s strange to think of being warned
From viewing death in fiction
Because of real life tragedy –
It’s quite a contradiction.
I’d rather watch a TV show,
Which I know isn’t real,
Than to view the anguish parents
Of those murdered children feel.
I glanced at the disclaimer
Then escaped into my show.
The “dead” were only actors,
Which was very good to know.
Judging by poems posted recently,
I am a quivering piece of crazy.
Poems meant for giggles are created
right before somber, pained words are stated.
Like an actor, I slip into a roll,
and find the voice that make characters whole.
Please, keep this verse in your mind and your heart,
as you enjoy all the rest of my art.
A brush with pain of chest
starts recalibrating the fog of eyes.
World has come a long way
from a child’s brain to prepare
an indigenous bomb
for a roaring ascent.
Where my son, you want to go
in trees of words ? The temperatures
are rising to widen the scope
of violence. Every one was
claming to be a terrorist
for bringing the peace on earth.
let the party begin.
Satish Verma
I have my platinum muse
It is a flighty, windy memory
Of a memorable, miserable encounter
With someone that reminded me...
I have not even fooled myself
Into believing something so weak
As the crippled, dying cupid
That is love at first sight.
The woman I am marrying,
Wasn't loved at first glance
She was a shallow puddle of mud
At my eyes first introduction.
Though, as I splashed in the mud
I was swept off my feet
Back into the primal wilderness
Of a child at play.
Caila makes me truly happy
Like a young boy
Tenderizing his stomping ground
After a heavy spring rain.
When the mud dried
I knew it was the remains
Of a memory when I was a child
Of being happier than ever.
What rose from those sterile ashes
Was a woman, a beautiful woman
She has flecks of gold in her veins
Eyes that emeralds envy
She didn't come and go,
Like the coy but beautiful Emma
Emma is only comparable
To a whiff of a nostalgic scent
Caila is my golden totem
Every moment we spend
Is frozen in time
Comatose, in its prime
Caila is my one true love
When that is no longer a fact
I will have forgotten about Emma
Completely, but sweetly.
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