I am barely a mineral now, not yet a woman in the ground,
not yet growing gardens and begging people to cook my peppers.
My home is dizzy from my constant re-entry, which helps me to cheat,
in life I am looking for the harvest in  people. I am a thread of cotton pulling
every word like it is more porous than the next, which helps me.
I summersault through conversations rather read in sharpie,
on the last corner white space of bathroom stalls,
alone and blushed. I remember love like a tagline inviting a smile
and messages to strangers. When I look in the mirror I am always inhaling,
my mouth says O, O I am out of excuses. I tell everyone I’m tired of working,
which helps me to hide in my comet ways. I am tight-lined,  
which is to say I feel love on the hairs of my arms, the wind,
the blades of fans speak to me at night when I have nothing left to say.
I am licensed to moving. In the dark in the cities public spaces and
also in alleyways I am soft like a moonbeam. I am convinced the world is a sewer,
which helps me to explain the exchange of waste and skin and the secrets hidden
in tunnels of shadows. When I move the world blurs with me like a heartbeat.
I am underground like the sewer, rotten in negative spaces, which helps me,
to hear the echo ripple swish of every piece of trash call my name.
I have no response. Some days the world is too *****. One day I will learn
to quilt and stitch together every important face, which will help me
to remember my grandmother and how she loved to balloon to the sky.
I dream she is a large magellanic cloud beaming out of the universe, the force
of believing is the word Hallelujah sung from the lips of Leonard Cohen.
It is midnight. It is noon. I close my eyes for a second and I see myself as miles
from the moon. I am running every day now and there is nothing left to see. My heart
is a kitchen door swinging and it does not want to stop.

I used to be wild
Drunk on my own newly discovered sensuality--and on Drink
Lemon Drops, and Pink *****-Droppers, and *** on the Beach,
and any fruity (sickeningly) mixed (sweet) drink anyone would hand me--but "no coconut!"
Laughing at my friends who were settling down
"You're all getting married, I'm just getting more awesome!"
Feeling so supremely alive
Flaunting my youth and vibrance like an obscure merit badge earned in Girl Scouts
(who would never condone by behavior, by the by)
Thin paper-plastic wristbands with Sharpie dates scrawled on them, and a tagline my only reminder of the night's events
"St. Patty's day"
"Brothers' last night"
"Makeout contest"... yeesh
Whole evenings, and weeks are now a blur, fuzzy from the alcohol? or just the passage of time?
Passing a particular apartment "I think I've been there before, once" and I struggle to remember how that night unfolded
A smile alights my face as some of it comes back, but not all of it; "Did that also happen that night, or was that another time...?"

And then a shift, in power, in gaze
Higher status, higher responsibilities
Higher shoes, (less *****)
The nipping and yapping one another, wearing down a trench around me
A Mother hen mantle settles on my shoulders (at least it's feathered)
And a jaded lens clouds my vision, sadly
My words about others, though never heard, would burn
Arrogant, downright Cruel, for a while
sigh
1am, that's enough for tonight
I'm tired
My bones hurt
I open tomorrow
The feathers are soft, yes, and choking
I look around, "What am I doing here?"
Ten percent of the people here make it worth my while
the rest...
Glitter cuts and scrapes my eyeballs, and I will wear the last vestiges to work tomorrow, no matter how hard I try
To rid myself of the testament to my night life

I want to do more
To Dance more, not police more
To allow more to explore more, and not to judge more
Everyone is worthwhile, and has something to offer
No longer compelled to define myself by the things that I do, or shove my newly-acquired identity in someone's face as means of introduction
To root out the real things that make me feel alive
And truth be told
I want to garden
laughs
I've never wanted to garden before
Wine and cheese with close friends, an adventure-date with my beloved
I'm alive because I'm living
Not because I've been going shot-for-shot for two hours with my best friend
But it's time for the next move
Whether you call it getting old, or settling down, or just "settling"
I call it settling in
To a cozy life I love, filled with only the people and things I love
Anything less, that's "settling"

There is a kinetic  c e l e b r a t i o n
throughout the entire universe--
both known and unknown;
  each molecule a universe to itself-

a world interconnected;
of sub-atomic celebrators
filling all time and space
perpetually valuing value itself

Value--
who, at its prime core
is in itself
the self-celebration
of hope/value= Love- (tagline) #healing

    and it is everywhere.
                  Yet, we.. are unaware.

Loving words
  (all that is real)
align with the celebration-
   of the kinetic-heal

and they pick up the magic
(the receivable rendition)
allowed into the receiver
through the act of volition

and suddenly we become aware.

••••


I am  melting  into   you--

and in the blend   of us
I am finding   the
c l a r i fi c ation      of me--  a
process  until today

I never believed in.

Once rolling alone
I am finding
the word  h o m e
in everything  
    that     you do

    e v er y- t h i n g.
          
                              -by paulSN

Two book bags just got shot down,
while celebrating the end of the school year on the play ground.
Destroying our souls.
Again and again!
in Chi-town.
Ain’t nothing sacred anymore.
Marching from here to there.
Saying “Stop The Violence”
is met by a corrupt system;
that just don’t CARE.
We The People must learn to CARE once again.
About our community....
Our brothers and sisters in their beautiful black skin.
Those two book bags represent someone’s
little girls bleeding out on the cement shores.
Never to explore education's reach, marriage, or raising children in peace.
“Stop The Violence” isn’t just a tagline.
Its a call for justice,
while sustaining the Black man's bloodline.
Our children deserve to be safe,
while being Proud and Black in any living space....
at any given time.
Why does my Black skin come with a 'they died too soon' deadline?


(C) Copyrighted

The snagged line grows taut
As I repeat the question
" Is there anything you want?"

House too empty , stairs too steep
She wants me back, I worry
"Weve been to ASDA , dont ask what i bought"

Saturday afternoon phonecall
"How are things?"
The reluctant tagline
"Not so bad"

Front garden going native
I set off down the cracked path
Doesnt want next door to see
I dont wave

TALKING THEIR LANGUAGE

June classroom, stir of voices
Arriva trains glide to the coast
Coffee needs filling, the last biscuit goes
This afternoon we look at idioms

Unpicking centuries, cultures
Somalia, Bangla Desh, Kurdistan
English remains official
Still a puzzle

"Speak slowly and clearly"
"Dont hit trees with sticks"
"Its a piece of cake"

The intricacy of language
Shapes ancient letters
"Lemon squeezy " chimes Messa
Our laughter is shared

"Hard to live"
Should be the tagline
For our beloved country.

It cost a leg
To find a place to live.
And an arm
To physically keep pushing forward.

America has a problem.
I'll say it once more.
America has a problem.
 
This is where people have the
Right to be judged
For falling in a failed system.

Today,
I shared a post
on Facebook.
It explained that
manipulating someone into
having *** with you
is a form of ****.

To the ex-classmate of mine
who thought it was okay
to post a meme with the tagline,
"Regretting consensual *** isn't ****,"
in response
to my own post:

Not only are
you are a perpetrator
of **** culture,
you act as though
**** is some sort of
joke.

You think
victims "cry" ****
like the boy who cried wolf,
that their traumas are fabricated,
cheap shots
to seek revenge against
impotent lovers
and unfortunate one night stands.

Being manipulated into
engaging in any sort
of ****** activity
does not equate consent;
because
to manipulate is to
unjustly coerce someone
to submit to another.

Consent is not the enigma
society makes it out to be;
really, it's quite simple.  

Did they say yes?

I'm not asking
if they said no--
that's irrelevant.

Did they say yes?

The fact that
one individual
feels the need to
manipulate someone else
into having *** with them
implies that someone else
didn't want to have ***
in the first place.

Guess what?

If someone doesn't want
to engage sexually
with another person,
then that is not consent,
and just as ****
can be imposed physically,
it can also be imposed
mentally and emotionally.

So there you have it,
ex-classmate of mine--
you've said your piece,
and I have every right
to follow suit.

you are remarkably disgusting.

And I'll be ******* ******
if I sit around
twiddling my thumbs,
scrolling through
Facebook mindlessly,
while you belittle
victims of ****
for the purpose of
your own amusement.

Thanks for coming to
my Ted Talk,
*** hat.

Ok love hear me out, I know it doesn't matter anymore but I am writing this message when I have no hope left or whatsoever. You have your reasons to be I had mine. For a time I thought by forgetting the past we can move on, these past days felt exactly how I wanted our relationship to be. I never said you or made you realise how much hurt was I at times and I was okay with it because I had you and I will always put you first over anything even if it means work, yes work and at times you knew how much you meant to me over anything. I find myself in the scariest places I have put myself through the hell of trying to win this losing relationship but i feel it's been going nowhere at all as you have made up your mind cause that's what you asked me, in mind it was okay if I lose. there's no purpose in living i feel when I can't even feel anything I have been dead inside before and I know how worse does that feel, lately my emotions are detached and i feel tangled up like wires, chaos within. Our call that night, thank you you were there with me but that's how I feel exactly every moment, dead.
On that video call where we didn't talk I was looking at you and I don't know what your eyes usually tell others but right then you gave away a secret I learnt to say "I know". I will be always be with a tagline 'Let me feel again, Anything. Everything. Please. I will take it all.' and you understood me. 2020 has been a struggle as you can say, but for me, particularly, it's been a struggle everyday. I believed in you with my everything and I don't blame you for anything. Last time I needed time I sat in a place of peace and sweetness, and my thoughts about you and us became poetry but, the moment I came back it was too late and you were gone. Love, I write this to say that I love you and always will, and to prove it, I could end myself but  it's not that I'm scared, but i would end myself, not knowing, if you smiled, when you knew, i loved you more than myself. Love, I have to thank you for everything everyday no need to go into detail and you know now without explaining I am what I feel. Currently empty, like a plant left over. Love, you are my sunflower, warm, yellow blooming joy infectious as sunshine which puts a smile over my face, golden in the light and my perfection. No matter what you will be growing through my heart, warm with happiness and love. You were my sigh of relief and now you're gone and I’m sitting here gasping for air. My eyes have dried with the tears I've cried and now I am empty, I've got nothing to give and now I am done, I've got nothing to look upto. I'm fine, if not completely at the moment, I will be, sometime later. I love you and take care, Yours soon to be unknown.

Is it just me?
Or some feel close to what I speak?

Why?
Do reporters concentrate on DJT  twittering thumb?
When many of us know it not him but someone.

If, he can't read a teleprompter before him without pause.
Are, we suppose to be buying into this nonsense he's on twitter?

Patience, he doesn't have.
Which means one of the minions writing under his tagline.

Pay attention closely, how all the newsgroup report this stupidity that DJT writes this on the social site.
Really, people, this man isn't so bright.

We very aware DJT Jr. just as dumb too.
Maybe he should let the other siblings speak.
For when he does he create more headaches.

Then the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
But we aware that DJT isn't writing all the tweets.

Even if they can't spell.

Paul SN

There is a kinetic  c e l e b r a t i o n
throughout the entire universe--
both known and unknown;
  each molecule a universe to itself-

a world interconnected;
of sub-atomic celebrators
filling all time and space
perpetually valuing value itself

Value--
who, at its prime core
is in itself
the self-celebration
of hope/value=  Love- (tagline) #healing

    and it is everywhere.
                  Yet, we.. are unaware.

Loving words
  (all that is real)
align with the celebration-
   of the kinetic-heal

and they pick up the magic
(the receivable rendition)
allowed into the receiver
through the act of volition

   and suddenly we become aware.

   •    •    •    •

I am  melting  into   you--

and  in the blend   of us
I am finding   the
c l a r i fi c ation      of me--  a
process  until today

I never believed in.

Once rolling alone
I am finding
the word,   h o m e
in everything  
    that     you do..

    e v er y- t h i n g.

Song of **** 
Things got wrong 
Black dark sky 
Landed on D2371. 

This void soul 
Dark matter shatter
Who are you?
A question perhaps 

Trapped in screenshot 
Living in simulation 
Talk of town
Who's this sarcasticbong? 

Dumb dumb 
Looking for show
It's hidden flow
Blinded earthlings go. 

Multiple parallel riff 
Colours popping gif
Can't you niff 
Awake your clairvoyance. 
Narrate your story
Mock theosist lore
So called influencer 
Hide your favorites 
Blame to others 
Boycott with hastags
Real is bluff 
Everything good, me 
Everything bad, you 
Rhyming with tagline 
Someone tagged you. 

fyoo-cher 

haz-bin

kom-pruh-mahyzd. 

©sarcasticbong

there are people on the internet
who will always know more about me
than my parents do.
they’ll see my tagline and
they’ll feel it
the same way that i feel it
the rush that comes with that
very first introduction
the freedom that tags along
on the coattails of
a name that at least one person
will keep as yours
they’ll feel the sadness
that comes with the moment
that someone you love
turns out to not love you back
well, not you
specifically, but
your kind
as they say
they’ll feel the dread
that comes with the look
in someone’s eyes when they
find out about everything
they’ll feel the excitement
that comes along with
the first smile that a stranger gives you
when you introduce yourself
and they don’t question
your very existence
or turn your greeting into a debate
they’ll feel the solidarity.
they’ll feel the community.
two words that i broadcast
to everyone except the two people
who gave me two different words
before they even asked what i liked.

mom. dad.
i’m not your baby girl.
i love you.
this is me
this is who i am
and who i am
isn’t going anywhere.

i hope one day
you’ll learn to love him.

I would never have got to feel what I felt when your hands found their way to my head and ruffled my hair.
I swear,
That was one of the best feelings in the world.

''Tall dark and handsome'' goes the tagline, we know all too well.
''2 out of 3 ain't bad'' you lightly comment, winking at me.
You have a pool of men to choose from, but powers of persuasion and magnetism saw you pull towards me.

I am the babyccino you treated yourself to after a hard week at work.
A sample of the love and decadence to come.
If you only let yourself-
Frothy and soft, like my body succumbing, and letting you do as you want.
Milky and sweet.
Warm with every touch.

I could be the rich flakes of shredded chocolate,
the marshmallows gracing the top,
to make a good thing-
even better.

*If only you let yourself

University midterm periods bring early mornings charged with energy drinks and espresso shots. Evenings are spent trading quizlets in Bass Library or in late night cram sessions in the common room. After several days of stressful testing, midterms suddenly end.

But we’re like those Indianapolis race cars that’ve just run 500 laps, we come off our midterm tracks with our proverbial metal popping and creaking from intense heat and stress. For the first day or so after midterms I can’t sit still. I pace around like I’ve forgotten something—then it sinks in—I can have fun, in fact, it may be mandatory.

My bf Peter is spending spring break with me—for the most part in my dorm room. It’s night two of our 18 romantic days and nights. We spent our first day wending around campus. Peter went here for years—earning his master’s and PhD here. He knows Yale even better than I do—it’s a nostalgia tour for him—he works for CERN in Geneva now (Europe’s most boring city—I think that’s their tourism tagline).

As we lay snuggled in my twin-sized dorm room bed, beneath one of my very freshly laundered sheets, it’s about 41°F and windy. I keep my lattice windows wide open, because I like to sleep cold, with just a sheet. Peter complained once, when he’d first earned sleepover privileges—until I explained the alternatives.

We’ve been dating for over two years now, and I think he’s learned to enjoy it. An arm or a leg left outside the sheet will start to tingle after a minute but the touch of a human hand is like a soothing flame. Snuggles are welcomed and spoonings are almost required for survival.

Looking up and out, we can see the cloudless and deeply azure, New Haven sky. My mind is drifting and lazily unfocused when I realize Peter’s been talking about something.. the search for extraterrestrial life?

I begin to focus on his words, mid sentence. His voice is a low, rumbly, western drawl - think Henry Fonda in some old black & white western.
“.. when SETI’s searching the heavens (for electronic signals), they listen across a sliver of two microwave regions that are unpolluted by radio waves from natural sources.”

My head’s on his chest and I’m listening more to his warm tones than the words. I say, “Mmm-hmm” and snuggle more deeply into his warmth.

“They call these frequencies the ‘water hole,’ because they correspond to hydrogen and hydroxyl wave lengths (key components of water), in hopes that intelligent life will pick these quiet zones for communication.”

I yawn, drawing in air like a gasp and sink deliciously into his slow breathing rhythms. Peter’s a physicist (that’s spelled ‘nerd’) and I can’t say I understand more than a third of his ellipticals, but the next thing I know it’s morning.

His astronomy lesson was a lullaby.
.
.
The Flower Called Nowhere by Stereolab
Stick Figures In Love by Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks
Moby Octopad by Yo La Tengo
If I Didn't Have You (Live) by Tim Minchin

Always elected.
Washed 'til torn.
Had the line loved best.
Worn in rest, at play.
But now its dated,
It's too tight.
Tagline no longer fits.
Time to remove
and toss away.
Favorites are outgrown.
Replaced by new bests.
Time frays even favorites.

Facing your own.
One race for years has a problem confronting their own.
They are the master of total fear.

We seen it in segregation.
When that race became the rage of a hatred nation.
We see it in present times.

When confronting racists seems to hinder their  test of humanity.

When any racial group of your own creating violence.
When professing they are better than others.
And those of that race hide behind the tagline-of see no evil.

Then you enable hate to move around society.

White churches that professes love.
Doesn't go the distant to fight hatred.
Like a person that can't speak.
They stay silent as if they are hate groups supporters.

But one day when that button is pushed to confront.
Just watch how the group that create the fear.
Now wants to seek peace at the conference table of love.

Except time for solving a conflict only started us to challenge our hearts.

Time always ticking
A trip triple tricking
The thinker’s talent telling
Told trust in their wits
A tad foretold in tableaux
Tot tot tin buckets in tams
Take out and talkative
Go tick tick tick tick
Trick the topography
Turn up the top town
To take a tent
Try truly hard
But tend to be tardy
Tagline and cosine
And untwine and the
capital of Lichtenstein?
And whatever else you can find
To taint the trees with
telemarketing
Watch the tardigrades
Trek through lichen and tailwater
Taradiddle my fiddle and
Trick the ticking time

Thou Shalt Not Lie, might well be his motto.
Except fabrication is his path.
The lying president loves to take the low road.

And honestly, believes his own truth.

More fiction than facts is his tagline.
Even when he speaks you ponder if he lost his own mind.

Now, we all know many blacks shoot off about those dying to give blacks rights.
Just remember some blacks crying it.
Wasn't supporting it.

Supporting what you ask?
Black protest.

Any injustice against any race?
Is injustice faced by everyone.
Sounds good, sound great.

But blacks have had to face the blunt of stupid racism centered around ignorant of humanity.

We know of the Nazis that in the photo seated with white American soldiers.
And aware of the loyal black American soldiers treated like second class.

Oh, you can fight for us to win?
Just remember there are limits to your services.

Those that don't know history will buy into knowing nothing in life.
We saw the rise in the fifties of a King.
In the sixties of a bright mind in Malcolm X.
Held his best against the best scholar.

Saw the nurturing of a boxer called Ali.
Saw the Black Panther Party branded into being what they wasn't in the beginning?

Angela Davis, fight against injustice.
Saw the man of justice for righteousness rise to the Supreme Court in Thurgood Marshall.

And many before all them name fight for personal freedom.
Oh, they won't be mention in certain educational books of the group that pushed out to many region in this country.

Then many only know of black fighters by researching to learn and adapt their practice.
Let give honor to Black Live Matters for proudly fighting justice like those in the past.

What happened?
They came up with Blue Lives Matters.
Again, thanks to black protesters.

For that tagline never were thought of until then..
They barely can address the code of silence.

So black protest holds power.