the bystander dutifully reading obediently
at a casement with sidearm
is competitively assuming
that our souari acreage hijacking
haliotis ostreidae alismatidae
mucilaginous lithographic osmundaceae
through ceratodontidae
in an airless helwingia
cascade from her exacum cardiographic heap
as your jeweled cuckoo awakened
into this fiendish confrontation
by enlivened catharsis
lacerate fission will scatter
you let me snuggle ?
we were restorative
but siegfried and I unite
never unturned .
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 7–13, 2026)
Languaging the place is happening
A voicestro of ideas
And involvement
Obstructing legislation
Command and finance
The handling of its own press
Pressing solutions
In the middle of a fraud
Yet in all time
A take part type of gal and guy
Suppose a person asked a city for funding around rent for themselves, an office, range of ten thousand a month
Today cresting 5 billion in debt of unauthorized hijacking of home development law
She’d hypnotise, entrance in playful fun,
Annoy, amuse, play-sport, or depress men,
Embrace often as snub, damsel doe-eyed,
Hijacking heart, would show no compassion,
Wonder, what weapons would she leave aside?
_________________________
Translation (quintain) | 25.08.2025 | woman, weapon, win
Note: Here is a verse from Bhartrihari’s Shringaara Shatakam (hundred verses on love and romance). Once a woman wins over the heart of a man what all would she not do, the poet wonders (meter: Vasanta-tilakaa). Here is the transliteration:
Sam-mohayanti madayanti vidambayanti,
Nirbhartsayanti ramayanti vishaadayanti |
Etaah pravishya sa-dayam hrdayam naraanaam,
Kim naama vaama nayanaa na samaacharanti || 21 ||
Story of pat,
Can you hear the sirens?
The old mans values engulfed with burning lust of minors,
Patrick’s family left in suspense & deprived,
Waiting to hear news, if their son is alive.
Peter 5:8 of the bible reads the devil walks among us,
I have met him in a house on fifth street living just behind us,
Across the road from a park there is a house of sin,
This is where a dark story in my life will begin.
Twenty- two years have gone by,
For Pat, his life stolen at the age of 9,
PAEDOPHILE, PAEDOPHILE, PAEDOPHILE! You took more than a life,
But if we tell anybody that you touched us, we will get in strife, right?
Twenty-two years later a neurological hijacking of a memory I must revise,
Tearful compassion as I feel the pain for Pats horrific demise,
I am sorry to the family if they find this written poorly,
“This is Emergency can I ask who is calling”....
Can you hear the sirens?
Troy.B.
On a beautiful day, skies clear and blue, stood two tall towers, twins so true. But up above something was awry, a boeing 767 had taken to the sky. But in this big plane all was not fine, because a group of people had crossed a line. These people were all terrorists, and horrible ones at that! They were called Al Qaeda and their goal was a splat! They wanted to send a message and kill important people, we all know it's bad, just downright evil. Hijacking the plane, crashing was their game. The damn whole thing was a downright shame. At 8:45 they hit the first tower, and the second plane hit right on the hour. Passengers aboard were all killed, so much innocent blood was spilled. First responders came to the scene. Smoke and bodies and not much else to be seen. Thousands injured, thousands dead. That day in history is now stained red. Those 3000 went up to heaven, on the day we know as 9/11.
all automatic alligators arrive arrogantly
barely behave beautifully but brazenly
carousing with creepy cruddy crocodiles
desperately denying despicable wiles
effectively expediting expediency
forever forsaking fruit flies who flee
glaring at grazing gritty grouses
hijacking horrific herbivore’s handy houses
igniting ingenious iguanas in I-o-Way
jubilantly joining jerky jaguars along the way
kibitzing kinesthetic killers from Zion
lollygagging like lively luxurious mountain lions
marvelously marking multitude of mini monkeys
notoriously noting nefarious nodules of displease
ostentatiously opening overt outages in Oregon
providing panda putrid prey Paul just spit on
quarrelsome quicksand quail
rapidly reading registered mail
saying sassing sentences swiftly
turning terrific tarantulas toenails thickly
utilizing underwater undercurrents down under
verifying valid villans' voluptuous plunder
with wild willingness and witchy wonder
‘xacting ‘xactly ‘xtreme ‘xestentialism supreme
yelling youngster’s yips on front of the queen
zinging zealous zealots into zebras galore
end of this abcedarian poem, there is no more.
THE HIJACKER WHO WAS HIJACKED
The mission is the pursuit of Caicedo,
the race has been on since the January set-go,
keepin' the paparazzis tongue in closed bridle.
Call Liverpool Big Jax of the Jungle,
and Chelsea, Richie, with cash in bundle.
Hijacking isn't alien in the round leather game,
though the salty feeling of the victim isn't the same,
the aftermath stain is what the media will frame.
Swung-in to hijack 3 month labour of Chelsea,
the American Clearlake tycoons 're never at sea
as they hijacked Liverpool’s hijack attempt for Caicedo,
and Lavia to punish 'em & their transfer window.
Served hot by Chelsea, that makes it two hijacks,
breaking the heart of Liverpool the Big Jax.
The hijacked ends-up as the hijacker in a twinkler
as Chelsea hijacked the hijack of the hijacker.
VICK MANUEL POETRY
{VMP}
Form: Quatern/Rhymes
Copyright ©? August 14th, 2023.
The Wrong One
He leaves a trace of himself in my bed,
He lives and moves daily about in my head,
A transient soul I thought he would be,
But instead he's ingrained in the fabric of me.
A stolen kiss from this thief in the night,
His hold on me, gripping me ever so tight,
Not before have I met with such skill and affection,
And in the next breath he can wreak such destruction.
A shadow he lurks and looms all around,
He makes me feel lost and makes me feel found,
He is all and then nothing in the beat of a heart,
The win at the end, the race at the start.
To me he's my lover, and most unique friend,
But to him I am less and will be to the end,
At times I tire with his endless games,
I know his type by several names.
They come with their promise and their lips that lie,
Hijacking my mind as their gaze holds my eye.
I thought he was different, a class of his own,
Oh how I'm mistaken, he is the wrong One.
A sudden wildfire engulfs the world.
Ephemeral flames keep burning untamed.
Contagious fumes mire a cerulean spring,
as flying creepy carriers spread a turmoil.
Virulent pathogens entering airway of lungs
behind veil of common cold, stares Death.
Fragile sick vessels can't battle pneumonia,
hijacking cells , sieges a dangerous Corona.
No armaments to fight an army miniscule,
helpless kingdoms, are we powerful humans?
Visages hide in hysteria of harrowing masks,
panic begging kindness, from unseen parasites.
An invisible Godzilla empties crowded streets,
as scrubbing soaps wash handshake greets.
Return us our old days of contagious laughter.
Twinkle in those smiles, once called infectious.
Sick of a fortress life , wearied of quarantine pain,
let's live hand to mouth, oh rich! make poor again!
Coughing and Sneezing, spare a nightmare of Flu
Let us breathe in unison again...
a fearless hug saying, "I love you".
14th March 2020
Sponsor Team PoetrySoup
Contest Name Coronavirus COVID-19
By Parizö Van Thulare
They can ruin your inner self
And leave you hanging on those shelves
In a shape of pledges they transform
In a speed of a drone they come
Usurping hopes
inventing an innocent heart with holes
They always collide with a human heart
hijacking that energy which was left a while
They make no appointments
They are capable of disappointments
To wear a happiness
Always expect less
To feel the breeze
You have to hold onto your sleeves
My days and nights
death in between
trouble in front—behind
The devil hijacking my
fondest dream
trouble in front—behind
She said she loved me
then said it twice
trouble in front—behind
The day I got fired
she turned to ice
trouble in front—behind
I pass out stoned
and wake up hard
trouble in front—behind
With time my warden
and sentence scarred
trouble in front—behind
My children’s names
now others call
trouble in front—behind
The doctor warns…
“Not one more fall”
trouble in front—behind
Excuses inked
across my chest
trouble in front—behind
The good got better
but the worst got best
trouble in front—behind
My eyes stay swollen
my mojo light
trouble in front—behind
The river rolling
the falls in sight
trouble in front—behind
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2018)
3/16/18 @11:35a
When I’m with you I loose all track of time,
as though you posses and capture my mind.
Your touch electrify’s and stimulates my core,
making me beg and want you more.
Your lips and sweet kisses make me loose all control…
hijacking my desires, you take over as pilot
I surrender to your leading as though I don't know how to fly yet.
You have become entwined into the fibers of my flesh,
like an intricate pattern that somehow just seems to mesh…
We have already melted together, how am I going to disconnect?
What am I going to do with you… how am I going to make it through?
Through to the other side,
where your magic fingers don't caress and open me wide…
How did I let you cause such an infection…
Yet, I’m still longing for your deep injection
Maddening thought to process such a word
Mad definition defining more than anger
Mad upset feeling fever flushed climatic danger
Mad mangled minor class offense verse major
Madly suggestive messages a madden proclaimer
Mad made digestive mental notes selective
Madder matters making moves motioning more
Minds mad capacities hijacking brains plane
Mad makers massive maze uncontained
Moistening our various vented veins change
Mad to be or not to be?
Crazy…
Crumbled chalk, the same
Illusion of thoughts, the game
How dare you distort this mass of energy
Liar, you snort, hijacking my memory
Matter over mind,
Forever never declined
Soul crushed under cash
Powder over ash
September 2017
Universally glueing
Black holes traversing
In neural networking
Transmitting thoughts
Swirling around galaxies
Inside the mind
Keeping time
Firing neurons
Within space and time
Birth of thoughts
Planets spinning
With moons rising
Seasons of cycling
Gravity spinning
In seeds of cohesion
Birthing galaxies
Fibers suspending
Hijacking reality
Questioning our being
Is space really freeing
Or is our timing
just alluding in recycling
the macrocosm of reflecting
Our mortality rating
Dedicated to my son Brandon. The environmental engineer.
Innovative and creative soul.
ALAN Walker Sing Me to Sleep song
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