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~
Michael W Noland Dec 2012
~
When i win, it is exactly what they wanted, and when i lose, it was part of the plan.
::
Michael W Noland Jul 2013
::
Just what is it that I am discovering?
I feel like I'm blubbering
Idly hovering over something

Something so bright I am blinded
And if my hunch is right I'll sign it

While kissing in the sky

There's a place deep down
In the bottom of the sack
Where the weakened drown
And the warriors attack

Where the heart pounds
And glory turns to *****
Into gory sheets
Categorically pieced

Through out a dream state

In a feast of upheaval
Under the peaking sun
In a leash of retrieval
Over the space of one

All waking to wonder
In the slumber of none

My bitter bones tumbling
To the drums thump

My slithered poems humming
To the stumps

My withered homes crumbling
To the months

Turned years
:::
Michael W Noland Jul 2013
:::
Get what you give as you got what you ganked.

Live with it not in distaste, but relate.
?
Michael W Noland Jun 2013
?
Wake me up
Push me out
Take me in
Turn me round
Kick me out again
For another spin
Circle me
Round the town
Turn me on
Take me down
Another road
Shift in tone
Through another zone
Take me back
Home is where the heart is
Get it back
Always hardest
When attacked
Always harvest
The black
From binary asteroids
Baring maps
Staying stoic
Til it circles back
Sum me up
In deeds
Sell me out
To dreams
Just Be
Without me
For a minute
And let me breathe
.
Michael W Noland Nov 2013
.
Sometimes I've had about enough
All these ******* buttercups

Puckering up
At the first scent of gruff

It's disruptive
To my mustering

I mean

Must we
Smother trouble out of ****

Must we malfunction
Into a skit

A script

Skipp-ed
To laugh tracks

Pre-writ
Until the last laughs

Where the curtains close
To fading claps

All the cards
Are all on the floor

Little adorable torturers

Peering through the doors
Afforded by our tor-mentors

Over it
We will get

Even get on with it

Cuz all of this
This is that and that is this

Is ******* ridiculous
Is worthless

It is foulness in its stench
The bowels of our regret

Unkempt and ******
It's ******* soaked in ****

Where the credits never roll
And the patrons only stroll
On outta here for a beer
And a night on the town

And all this

Flapping of the gums
And slathering of spit

Is glossing over my ****
And it's all we will ever get

If we would just submit

Wipe the sand from our *****
And remove the ******* sticks

We might find
We have loosened up a bit

Just don't be such a little *****
And other inflammatory ****


[That's it]
( )
Michael W Noland Feb 2013
( )
What can come of a silence that permeates so deeply within my inspirations, that it is layered but twice of mine own hesitance.

How are my words to live, but never given in a desperation that enriches my will of wants, but is to be forgotten by mornings noise.

To fold my hands and look away, has become the very nature of my innate ability to walk away, chanting the names of those who wish me well.

The title has become a contrived precursor to lead astray the feelings without means to convey.

No one else but I.

No one else but I may know what flows beneath my flesh until it ceases to be recognizable to me, you, or by any sense of words that blur in the misshapen dragging that only you will see, only you may see what you want to see, and see it you will, but wrongly.
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
•  -+  •

I am a lover
                  
A
Warrior
Poet

Consumed
Of

S
A
D

Sickness

Starlit
In
Iridescence

Examining
~Beautiful~
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
Just Simply Breathe.
Assess real need, and bleed, amongst the few.

I do.
Humbled anew.
I choose a truth, in lieu of the blue, to sooth the pursuit, .. . of better~
101
Michael W Noland Aug 2012
101
I saw a nation of fools,
rising to half read books.
Michael W Noland Mar 2013
The misunderstanding is in trying to understand, standing next to lamps in the dark, afraid to embark into the unknown, knowing that knowing is knowing nothing while still quietly judging, but its something to embrace, something to fill the hole, that gently pulls it all into my guts, carrying the burdens with my clutch on the unheard of.

I walk a path of fear with masks to disguise my lies with truth to help me through the illusion of you, holding my hand along the way.

The path is finite, and all encompassing, as it fluctuates into something more appeasing for my needing of a dream to light the way, with telescopic tears, and blinding happies, i'm learning things i already knew.
Michael W Noland Jan 2013
Sometimes i feel like the world is spinning around me in an almost timelessness. Faces come and go, fading into the distance, before that familiar face in which i cannot quite place a name, walks on by me.
13
Michael W Noland Feb 2013
13
I was an early teen with a black and white TV, staying up way too late to see magnum p.i., while smoking ****** slime re-fries, for a high so intense, i even shat my pants, ****** myself, or collapsed my fat *** on the couch.

I was alive while not

My mother worked typical nine to fives, and even nights, and with no father in sight for guidance, a kid can slide, into redefining the lining of respect, one lining, or even lying instead, it was better than dying inside, and i tried, oh i tried to go outside, inside a box.

I tried to deny my crimes, my thievery, my sublime feelings of neglect, but maybe i was less neglected, and more centered at the core of the universe, where snake eyes protected Bianca from Cobra commanders clutch, but Bianca, was into it, and wasn't like us, ***** knew it, and set us all up.

Dumb *****

Rubber bands
Screws and guns
All piled up
And that's all that's left
Or ever was?

Ninja nothing

My imagination was corrupted
I wanted something
But knew i couldn't have it
Couldn't put my finger on it
But knew the dangle of a carrot
And i was on it

Moth to light

That's how the infection spread, dissecting eloquence, and injecting prisms into the imprisonment of reflectous rages in the intersecting of the yellow projections on my television, as i would just lay there on my bed, and soak it all in, hoping for something better, or perhaps just something different.

I had already written by that time, a thousand lines to the screams, behind the screen, as the programing repeats, and repeats in mastered recipes under a canopy of grief, and humility, holding the people humbly to their seats.

The records not scratched
The needle
Is seated
Exactly
Where it intends
To be

I cheered for tanks
I cheered for bombs
Cheered for any ******* thing
That sounded the alarms

Suits, with ties, next to the soccer moms in line, at the grocery store, complaining about meat cuts, to a brain dead acne laden ****, making 6 bucks an hour, the dream had died before me, and begun to sour, but not one would see what they were doing in the scheme of things, and only seen what they wanted to, and i wasn't about to wear anyone's shoes, but mine.

That's when it whooshed over me, in the spark that grew my heart to be bigger than the rest, and i stepped outside, poking sticks in hives, and even lost a few fights, but saw through my own eyes with nobody at my side, though alone and wandering, i was still alright, and stronger than those family types, who would hide from life, in wealthy slights of hand, i still demanded nothing.

I wont beg for a leg at the masters feet, after i have broken my leash and ceased to be anything close to a functional member of society.

I was 13 and just starting.
Michael W Noland Jul 2012
some say im cynical
satanical
that my minds mechanical
diabolical
spoken essence erotical
detestable
jaded imagery hypnotical
unstoppable
liable to solve the unsolvable
while prodigal poets drown in their nautical modules

im a criminal
a cannibal
storming the street like an animal
shooting cannonballs
through prison walls
splattering the generals
in bathroom stalls
hostil
leave you poppin pain pills in the hospital
uncontrollable
my temper is flammable
mumbles illegible
choking you with your pentacle
leaving onlookers speckled
the abominable
mental protocols unstoppable
the unfeasible constable
shooting up the card table
willing and able
to call your fables
and smash apart a label
i raise babies in unstable cradles
let you bleed out
like cracked ladles

engorged in unholy wars
exploring
the corruption of the core
deplored
uniformed for
the clash of the double edge swords
taking control of vocal chords
a meet of the hordes
of the horned
misinformed
adorned
in sunlight

trying to shine
just 1 line
at a time
until my life signs decline
almost time
light and shadow combined

Horus and set

by hindsight blessed
yet to contest
to the rest of this mess
by melancholy caressed
as i arise unrest
from the cess
of the un confessed
blessed
1st
Michael W Noland Mar 2013
1st
Forever will i remember the letters.
The blood, ***, and the glitter, as i kissed her with thinning blood, and a fragile heart, forever inside her, but apart.
Michael W Noland Jan 2013
From across the room i watched with gloom in hand

Trembling of the soon to be lost temper of my severed tranquilities, swiveling on my spleen

Fueling the surrendering of my dreams for one squeeze to lead them all

Fear only stalled in my cause for alarm

No harm shall come before the storm

No spawn of thought beyond the forlorn

Here to see
See nothing
Nothing to see
See something

Something amiss
Amiss of the somethings
Some things are best
Best left unsaid

And unsaid is where they burned

Turned out
Out turned
Turned doubt
Doubt turned

Confidence

Confidence with delicately sculpted prominence over loose targets

Scurrying like varmints

Not to tarnish the cries for help

6 flashes for silence, and a taste of hell

By demon be driven, as we all sell when pressed against hell with the means to end it all

Let the chips fall where they may, as in jail i can prey on bigger things, and emerge a king

Solitary confinement will refine my shrine to stardom

But the martyrdom of *****, is quickly forgotten

Spoiled rotten in self indulgence

Emboldened in molten rage

The pages folded before fading away

In cindered fairies playing with my pain

Falling

As Jagged glass from window panes

Empty walls
Walling in the wisdom
Wisdom calls
Calls for blood
Blood from all

I merely heed the call and fall fashionably

Rationally broken in the cities hold on me, in claustrophobic scolding for my holdings in heavenly weapons pointing to the cure

I expect nothing but the allure of spatter, patterned out to the tune of my doubts, coagulated in lieu of the claps, looping through the traps of no take backs, and collapsing to my synapses crackling in the rain.

Smash my brain, in suicide by cop,  I jump atop the bridges that i burned

I turn the other cheek

Just to wink at the weak

Before i leap

And never learned
Michael W Noland Jan 2013
Its a hunger pain
That grows
And grows
Into a singular pearl
A wisdom that then
Returns the pain with pangs
Of reason
But i cover them up
With other dumb *****
For a night on the town
To drown the voices out
To avoid Confronting my doubts
So i can Clown
The faces of my own tragedies
While acting out the comedies
Of the dichotomy
Forming within me.
7
Michael W Noland May 2013
7
Made up
Of ****
Dim luck
And *****
Not given
With a finger
In the air

The wild
In the air
Lingering
In the fair
Weather
Friendships
In pairs

I'm here
And i'm not
I'm a fearless
Robot
When i plot
What is to be
What is to not

Hell is cold
And heaven hot
But none can be
Anything
With logic
Dropped
On fairies crops

I'm high
But low
Always on top
I lurk
In shadows
Smirking
Not

Love me
Love me not
**** me
Chuck me
Reluctant
To even
Stop

Stab you
Strangle you
Ease you down
Love you
Tangle you
My love
Is profound
771
Michael W Noland Jun 2013
771
Met her at the docking station
She was waiting for the Moon
I, the United Space station
Frozen in the swoon
Of passing spaceships
Tho determined to see it through
Our gazes patiently vacant

As we drifted our eyes
Over the earthly spikes
Of majestic might
Just to pass our sights
Over our nights
Of light-less sights
Glamoring us goodnight

Where fragility was born
As our ships docked
Feeling torn
The seals unlocked
And i mourned
As I walked with the flock
On board

Her face further than before
Looking for the door
As I was adorned
In crowds of explorers
Looking for more
Than the love born
In this vacuous swarm

I clamber for a window
To see her face
And i watched it glow
As it drifted farther away
And i will never know
Her graces amongst this place
As I just minded the flow

And detonated the station
For the poverty of a nation
But the expansion of the blast
Pulled her into its caste
And the hole surpassed
Our flight paths
As our cluttered wrecks amassed

But I was not alone
As she triggers her past
In the eye of the storm
Reestablishing eye contact
She holds to her form
In the secondary blast
And together we roamed

Into the beautiful black holes
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
She said, I had a way with words, as I am murdered, with each remembered murmur, of i love you.
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
From the core
where the storm is born
forlorn ...
in malformed arms
Adorned
in the sworn swarm
of charged
particles
reaching
for
Earth.
Michael W Noland Jul 2012
And the trinity knocks with three pops from a filed glock

punched holes stack on forehead knots and a casket drops with dead bolt locks

but who inherits the robots

the cerebral talks

the spine shocks

letting me know of the plots and props of the surrounding city blocks and of the corrupted cops zooming in from distant rooftops

who never even heard the rasping hiss from the six murderous trigger flicks

put me in line behind the mimes to see the ****** therapists lyricist

who stares as time just slips between my fingertips and out our wrists

watches like shackles

circling cackles closing in to tackle these unholy tabernacles

the only battle is to herd the cattle to one spot and make the windows rattle

jig saw enemies wont tattle

like ashes on the mantle

like corpses beneath man holes

like smiling killers without handles

exposing my lyrical scandals

implored to explore the dragons lore they adore

even if my blood pours beneath the bathroom door

Abhorred
Michael W Noland Aug 2012
through the minds eye,
wiping the tear drops dry,
i face the faces twice.
once before,
and once after they die.
Michael W Noland Oct 2013
It's a fragile balancing act
To stay on track

With all these
Attractions
Detracting
From my
Distractions impact

Its impact
On the blurring depictions
Of pictures burned
In fictions past

Frames so perfect
They cracked
Michael W Noland Jan 2013
In downtrodden androgyny, the ample beast is butchered in the streets, released to the **** ******* bottom of cautioned pits, gritting limply in the lozenged fists of gimps sweating **** from their pours to no cause, nor reward, under the sword of mechanical animals, scrambling the signals to the heart, from a world apart in darting remembrance of the severance from the start departed to the end of no means in abstract pings to the outer dark.
Michael W Noland Aug 2012
the truth caused their speech to shake and their hands to tremble, but without it, the truth could never come to be
Michael W Noland Dec 2012
It didn't matter what anyone thought.

She was living her dreams, never questioning the validity of her being.

She was, seeing, for the first time.
Michael W Noland Apr 2013
My wishes
Are lies
As I
Cannot
Control
The tide
But i
******* tried
Oh i tried
And crashed
Into the sides
Of rocks

Been ripped open
By barnicles
And attacked
By sharks
But i built
A one man raft
And embarked
Toward an island
In the dark
Where no man
Can live
But me.

But Im tired
From the journey
And all i want
Is to sleep
Just floating
In the sea
Awaiting
Tranquility
As it atones
To me
From deep
below
Michael W Noland Mar 2013
Strip it all
Peel it back
Shed the skin
Start all over again
Solo siren
In the wind
Whaling
To the blade
And its okay
Its okay
I'm okay
Again
And
Again
Against
The wind
Michael W Noland Dec 2012
My alliteration is alienating my appetite and i just might atrophy on sight if my rhymes cant interweave to achieve some insight as to why the **** i even try every night.

Such is the life of a write.
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
what is to be of a wasted life of spent breath to vent the concepts unkempt to the context of the plight?

It could really be alright, as we dance the night away, and play house on a world scale, a snails pace on the trails of progress.

Yet to digress to a better man with a plan and a project to reach naivety, in elementary innocence never completely lost.

We are the boss of our own reflections.
Gluing together the inter-sections divided of the perfections embossed in loss-less injections upon your ghost.

Host to your congregation of one.
One day to become
Become the son of the day
Days encased of night
Nights blathering beautifully in the love songs of lonely poets united beneath the stars of afar in unprompted kindness that spread like a virus inside us, and opened the eyes of babes with the dice of slaves freed on self gambles, leaving dread in the shambles of yesterday's imagination.

Be emptied everything.
Michael W Noland Mar 2013
This message
It will self destruct

This message
It deconstructs

This message
An eruption
Of my consumption
Of the bad

My feel bads
For damage done
With an empty gun
In hand

Collect the shells
Sweep the scraps
It dont matter
Who was first
But last

We all cast shadows
Here and now
From frown
To pout

We all go out
Like *******
Michael W Noland Aug 2012
another
smothered lover
in the Hollywood hills
unbag the bottle
crack the seal
oh the appeal
of intake
for the sake
of intoxication
so meek and unique
in gurgled screams
a pixie in the hand of a king
compelled
to discretely
capture the beauty
in eternity
expelled
i just felt
i had to nest a shell
and befell
clearing her residual
flirtatious signals
even in the squirms
and even in the squeals
even though i know
she yearns
to be hooked by her gills
dragged through landfills
in a projected field
where she would yield
and kiss me.
i'm gonna pretend
to love her
as i tenderly
shove her
in the river
of our love
take her under
my loving thunder
and plunder her
when drugged
dazed in her wonder
i hold her under
from above
if only for a moment
we locked eyes in love
she fit me like glove
remnants
disposed of
in a rug
posed so beautifully
for the smack
hack and rip
one pretty *****
dumped
in an irrigation ditch
triumphed
our wordless
relationship
its over *****
move on with it
in the mouths
of varmints
oh
charming
as im clicking *****
on key chains
sticking misfits
with loose lips
usually homeless
decoys
here to destroy
nothing
in my twisted ploy
to employ
maximum points
conjoint
my addictive anger
to something a little stranger
im going to dangle
her entrails
in front of her eyes
while i'm bangin her
shes looking so surprised
from every camera angle
the mangled *******
what a lamo
hypnotized
in the passing of life
in the
blood
the ***
the ****
and the knife
Michael W Noland Nov 2013
The wires
Are exposed

But seldom skewed

The bulb
It is bursting

Banging through

The walls
That are burning

Breaking in hues

In clouds to skies
Framed in cubes

In the end
It's the logic

That murders you

A translucent tie
To the bindings of a fool

The buoyant bull
Who knew the rules


[And still]
Michael W Noland Apr 2014
I cannot
not compute,
this beauty, it's all around you,
as it can only exist in you,

surrounded in your shades,
your observation unto its grace,

this world,
you make,
real.

It's why I'll make,
you,

looking to your lines, your curves,
defining you by sight, tracing starlight,
then eyes, that shine unto mine,

as life becomes life's
worth living.

The heavens we can trace,
with but a glance to the place,
where by chance we will paint,
on the same lines of a space,
occupied by a fate,
between the times,
that we made,
and bang,

the endtroduction.

But faster, and fast-err, or,
can't not, not, compute,
bigger, better, more, and more,

the fabric,
it dilutes,
torn,

pouring from a door,
on another side,
doing just fine,

looking
no further

than the sky.
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
In dull radiance he came to be, humbled in the belittle of broken, and dying trees, he gleams, in the darkly unseen seams of beautiful, beautifully, rippling through his being, where even the stars shall sing of dustly dreams, twisting and drifting into the lully, uplifting,  sinking of doubt, as he drown in an endless ocean of sound, precision thoughts, but not, to be gone in his lossless spawn, of the epiphanies sprawled upon his heart,  and from the dead Earth he grew, born anew, in the molten fluid of lucid wounds, strewn about in floating tombs, shattered and scattered upon the planets, as the latter scavenged trinkets of testimonial pull, in the disharmonious hum from black holes, crafting his soul, in the gentleful stroll, to existence.
Michael W Noland Oct 2013
He was all he could be
All he ever wanted to be

Spectating society

From the back seat
Of the two fifty three

Watching himself biking
Through the street

Happily climbing
Up the trees

Writing poetry
And smoking ****

He was exactly
Where he intendid to be


[Apart from me]
Michael W Noland Jul 2013
It was a tumble of disbelief
A rumbling in my belly
A stumble into grief
Through jumbled telepathy

It was me
Looking right back

But only and exactly in the flash
Where irrational brashness
Was splashed upon shattered glass
As he slumped over the dashboard
Art
Michael W Noland Oct 2013
Art
Some can see the frame
And some can see the paint
Some can see the places
And some can see a face
Some can see the love
While others see the hate

I can see the walls
And I can see the hooks
I can hear the calls
To tell me where to look
And I can write the rules
But won't always sell the book

And you could be the one
The diamond in the rough
You could be the sun
That burns away the bluffs
We could play it dumb
And I will call it love

They will call you art
And I will call you None
You could be my carving
And you could be my blood
I could spill my heart
And paint another One
Art
Michael W Noland Apr 2013
Art
Seeing, what may not be, even there, is an art form so rare, where, the pictures are painted first, before they are made.
Michael W Noland Feb 2013
I only wish that i had light to give instead of ****, but you give me happy tears, and if it wasn't so dark out here i wouldn't have seen you there so barren of the shield in yield to the dark, where we had embarked on a blackened sea, where infinite meets zero, we met and looped through to the point in which, we just knew, in echoed flows of timed, rhymeless suicides of lines that pock marked our minds, mapping the incline of the tides that reside in the fine print, signed in kind of my trying subconscious, synced, makes me nauseous to think, that the ******* will meet, where destiny completes, as you are existing, outside me, wanting to be, in danger of a stranger that knows your name.
Michael W Noland Feb 2013
I am in a city of admirers admiring admirers, a city cloned from a rough sketch, that has been traced in disappearing ink, a producer of diluted DNA in its quoting of the quotes within the tattoos across its face.

Its people walk in pace like sheeple, but at-least the sheep have their fur, as the people scurry in synchronicity from the burr.

Its cold outside, and getting colder.

Ill stand right here, and observe.
Michael W Noland Aug 2012
he learned to tune out the screams,
and didnt care anymore if his hands were *****.
he just shuts the door when hes working.
Michael W Noland Apr 2013
Scribbled
Tidbits
Fidgeting
The twiddles
Of a warrior
Wandering
Wayward
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
[A] is for
An
Archer with
An
Arrow through his
Adams
Apple, very
Applicable, to the
Ample
Amounts of
Amiable
Attitude,
Adorning his heart, in
After
Action
Attributes, that impart, the
Admiration, of
*******, in this
Acting out of
Arrogance bit. he is,
Astute, in his
Allure, and
Aloof, in the
Air, of
Aspiration, in which, he was
Alienated in the
Agony, of
Asking
Assassins, the
Aforementioned. lights, camera,
Action. recipe of the
Ancient
Admirals of
Avian
Aliens, that
Attacked, with the
Arms and fists, of
Arachnids, now
Aching to be
Activated in sudden
Allegiance to the
Answers, of the truth.
Accumulating wealth for
Anarchy's of
Abating
Angels in
Atrophied,
Alchemical
Academies of the ever
After life .. . of silence.
****** strengthens in these
Accolades of violence, in
Alliance to
Appliances
Appearing in the
Arson of
Apathy, happily, to
Anguish in the
Amputation of my
Abdomen, if it meant i'm a real
American, even, when, only
Ash, remains.
Acclimating in its remains
Attained, the
Articles of my pain, in
Affluent shame, next time ..
Aim... oak
[A]?

[B] is for the
Bah of
Black sheep, and
Big
Bit¢hes, fat cats,
Bombarded in the
Blasted,
Bastion of
Blackened
Benevolent
Blokes,
Berating the
Blasphemous,
Be-seech, of
Brains, to feel
Bad, about the
Blotching of
Binary codes, erroding, the
Blanked out
Books, of
Belittled
Bureaucrats,
Bowling
Back the
Bank rolls of
Betterment, from the
Back of the
Blackened
Bus, as i'm
Busting guts, in the
Bubbling
Butts, of *****
Benched, but
Beautiful, in the
Battle, in the
Bane, of existence.
Baffled, in the strain of
Belligerence, in
Beating the
Beaming
Butchery into
Billy's
Broken
Brains, in
Bouts, of
Battering
Bobby's for
Bags of
*******
Before, affording to
Build
Bombs, is just
Beyond
Breaking
Beer
Bottles on the
*******
Benefactors of
Boulder
Bashing with the
Beaks, of
Birds, with no
Bees. just a
Being, trying to
[B]


[C] is for the
*****
Courting the
Choreography, in
Computerized
Curtains,
Circumventing the
Cultured,
Contrivance of
Chromatic
Cellars,
Calibrating, to the
Contours of
Calamities,
Celebrating the
Cyclical,
Cylinders of
Cyphered
Calenders,
Correcting the
Calculations, of
Crooks
Coughing, in
Courageous
Coffins of
Canadians,
Collecting
Cobble stones, from
Catacombs, in the lands of the
Conquered,
Capturing the
Claps of thieves, sneaky
Cats, of greed. its
Comedy. oh
Comely, to my
Cling of
Cleanliness, and for your self
[C]

[D] is for the
Dip *****, as they
Delve
Deeper in the
Deliverance, of
Deviant
Deities,
Dying to
Demand
Dinner
Delivered in the throws of
Death,
Deceiving
Defiance of
Darkened
Dreams,
Demeaning that which
Deems the
Dormant of the
Dominant, to be
Demons of
Deviled
Devilry,
Dooming us for
Destruction.
Deploy the,
Damsels in
Duress.
Defiled and
Distressed,
Detestable and
Dead. in the thump of
Drums,
Dumbing down the
Debts of,
Dire regrets.
Dissect the
Daisies of,
Disillusion, in the current
Days,
Diluting night into
Dawn,
Disconnecting the
Dots of the
Dichotomy, and arming me, in the
Diabolatry, of,
Demonology, as i watch me
Dwindle away, the
[D]

[E] is for
Everything in nothing,
Eating the
Euphoric
Enigmas of
Enlightened
Elitists,
Exceeding in the
Extravagant
Essence of
Esoteric
Euphemisms,
Escaping the
Elegance of the
Elements in the
Eccentricity of
Eclectic
Ecstasy,
Exhaling, the
Exostential blessings, of inner
Entities, and renouncing the
Enemies of my
Ease,
Easily to appease
Extraterestrial
Empires,
Extracting the lost
Embers of
Enlightenment, in
Excited delight, but to later
Entice, the fight, and
Escape, like a thief into the night of
Everywhere,
Entering the
Exits of
Elevators leading no where, to
Elevate, this useless place,
Encased in malware in the
Errant
Errors of
Every man,
Enslaved, of flesh and
Entrails,
Enveloping the core of
Everything, that matters,
Enduring, the chatter, of
Evermore,
Ever present in
Everybody
Ever made to take
[E]

Funk the
Ferocity of
Foolish
Fandangos, with
Fanged
Fanatics,
Fooled in the
Fiasco of
Fumbled
Fantasies,
Falling through the
Farms of
Freely
Found
Fans,
Flying in the
Fame of
Fortune.
Fornicating on the
Fallen
Fears of
Fat
Fish getting their
Fillet of
Fills.
Feel me in the
Frills

Granted with
Generosity.
Giblets of
Gratitude and
Greed,
Greeting the
Goop and
Gobbled
Gore,
Gleaned from the
Glamour of
Ghouls in
Gillie suits,
Getting what they
Got
Going, in the
Gratuitous
Gallows of a
Game
Gaffed by
Giants.

Hello to the
Horizon of
Hellish
Hilarity, in
Hope of
Happy, to
Heave from
Heifers, to
Help the
Hemp
Harshened
Hobos in
Heightened
Horror, to
Honor the
Habitats of
Hapless
Habituals,
Herbalising the work
Horse, named
Have Not, in the
Haughtily
Hardened
Houses of
Happenstance.

Ignore the
Ignorant
Idiots, too
Illiterate to
Indicate the
Indicative
Instances of
Idiom in the
Irrelevant
Inaccuracy of
I,
In the
Intellect of
Idle
Individuals,
Irritated with the
Irate
Illusion of
Idols
Illustrated upon the
Iris,
In the
Illumination of
I.

******* the
Jobless
Jokers, and
Jimmy the
Jerkins from their
Jammie's, in
Justified,
Jousting off the
Jumps, in
Jokes, and
Jukes of
Just
Jailers,
Jesting for
Jammed
Jury's to
****
Judgment from the
Jitter
Juiced
Jeans of
Jesus.

**** the
Keep of
Khaki-ed
Kool aid men,
Kept in the
Kilometers of
Kits,
Kin-less
Kinetics,
Knifing the
Knights of
Kneeling
Kinsmanship,
Keeling over the
Keys of
Kaine, with the
Karmic
Karate
Kick of a
Kangaroo.

Love the
Levity, in the
Luxurious
Laments of
Loveliness,
Lovingly
Levitating in
Level,
Lucidly.
Living in
Laps, of
Lapses,
Looping, but
Lacking the
Loom of the
Latches
Locked with
Leeches of the
Lonely
Lit
Leering of
Lightly
Limbs, that
Lash at the
Lessers in
Loot of
Lost letters,
Lest we
Learned in the
Lessons of
Liars.

Marooned in
Maniacal
Masterpieces,
Masqueraded as
Malignant
Memorization's of
Motionless
Mantras, but
Merrily
Masking
Mikha'el the
Mundane, who is
Musically
Mused of
Monsters,
Mangling the
Monitor, but
Maybe just a
Moniker of
Marauders.

Never to
Navigate the
Nautical
Nether of
Never
Nears.
Not to
Nit pic the
Naivety of
Nicety.
Notions
Neither take
Note
Nor
Name the
Noise of
Nats in the
Nights of
Neanderthals
Napping in the
Nets of
Ninjas

Ominous in the
Obvious
Omnipotence of
Oblivious
Obligatory
Opulence,
Of
Other
Oddly
Orchards
Of
Offices,
Ordaining
Orifices in
Offers of
Ordinary
Ordinances in
Option-less
Optics,
Optionally an
On-call Oracle, in
Optimal,
Overture.

Perusing the
Pestilent
Pedestals of
Personal,
Parameters,
Pursuing the
Petty
Plumes of
Piety with the
Patience of a
Pharaoh,
******* on the
People with the
Penal
Pianos of
Port-less
Portals, in the
Paperless
Points in the
Palpal
Pats of
Pettiness.
Poor, but
Prideful.

Quick to
Qualify the
Quitter for a
Quick
Quill in
Queer
Quivering of
Quickened
Questioning,
Queried in the
Quakiest of
Quandaries.
Quarantined to a
Quadrant, of
Quagmires.
Questing the
Quizzing of
Quotable
Quartets.

Relax in the
Relapse of
Realizations, and
React with
Racks of
Rolling
Rock to
Rate the
Rep of the
Rain-less.
Roar in
Rapturous
Rendering of the
Random
Readiness in the
Ravenous,
Rallying, of the
Retinal
Refracting of
Reality.
Realigning, the
Righteous
Rearing of the
Realm, and
Retrying.

Steer the
Serenity in
Sustainability, and
Slither through the
Seams of
Slumbered
Scenes.
Secrete the
Solo
Sobriety of
Sapped
Sassys,
Salivating upon a
Slew of
Stupidity,
Steadily
Supplied in
Stream,
Suitably
Slain in the
Steam of
Sanity.
Sadly, i
Still
Seem,
Salvagable.

Topple
The
Titans in
Tightened
Terror.
Torn
Territories
Turn
Turbulent in
The
Teething of
Totality.
The
Telemetry of
Time,
Tortured of
Torrent
Theories,
Told in
Turrets of
Transpiring
Terribleness, from
Tumultuous
Tikes unto
Teens,
Trading
Toys for
Tea.
Thrice
Thrusted upon by the
Tyranny of
Tanks.

Unanimous is the
Ugliness in the
Undertones of
Undreamed
Ulteriors
Undergoing the
Unclean in the
***** of
Utterly
Upset
Users,
Uplifting the
Unfitting
Ushers in
Underwear-less,
Ulcers,
Undergoing the
Ultra of
Uberness.

Venial in
Vindictive
Viciousness of
Vindicated
Venom,
Venomously
Vilifying the
Vials of
Villainy in the
Veins of
Vampires,
Validity of
Valuable
Violence, is
Valiant in the
Vaporous
Vacationing of
Vagrant
Vices.

Why
Whelp in the
Weather
When you can
Wave to the
Whirling
Wisps,
Whipping Where the
Whimsical Were
Way back in the
Wellness of
Whip its,
Wrangling my
World,
With
Waterless
Worms, as
War shouts are
Wasted in the
Wackiest
Walks of
Waking
Wonder.

Xenophobic
Xenogogue, of
Xenomorphic
Xeons, turn
Xyphoid, in the
Xenomenia of my
X, my
Xenolalia of
X, to
***. im lost in the
Xenobiotic zen of
Xerces, on a
Xebec to the
X on the map.
Xenogenesis, in the
Xesturgy of my
Xyston
Xd

Yelling
Yearned from
Yelping.
Yard
Yachts
Yielding, to the
Yodel of
Yeah
Yeahs, to the
Yapping of
******
Yuppie
Yoga
Yanks, over
Yonder.
Yucking it up with the
Yawn of a
Yocal.

Zapped from a
Zone i
Zoomed with
Zeal in the
Zig and
Zag of my
Zapping
Zimming
Zest, upon a
Zombie-less
Zeplin.
Zealot,
Zionist, or
Zoologists,
Zeros or ones, just
Zip your
Zip locked. and
Zzzzz
Zzzz
Zzz
Zz
Z
Zero
this is a work in progress
Michael W Noland Jan 2013
Better to be dead
Than live in your head
All the lies and discontent
Are better left
In the cleft
Of cleverness
You slice
While i sever it
Never hit
The hard six
Without two clips
Backing my ****
I submit
To nothing
But
The sultry shade
Of my suffering
While still loving
Every minute
Of the absolute
Truths
Starting coups
With youth
In suits
Made of bombs
Watering roots
To grow on
Lacing boots
For strong arms
Staying calm
In the calamity
Detonating
The anxiety
Inside of me
Pawning the notoriety
For a long gone society
In the brawn
Of a family
Burning in the tragedy
Magically
Melting
The dynasties
Of rotting cities
Raising from the grave
With rave reviews
From slaves in suits
Who missed the news
To the dark pursuits
Of suicidal fools
Abiding by the rules
Of lawless crooks
Flawless cooks
Of crutches
For assumptions
In thunderous
Concoctions
Altering the functions
Of the faction-less
Getting traction
With the hack and slash
Mashing the happenstance
Of meaning
Seeding into rants
I am the giant
I am the defiance
In an alliance
Of one
Got all the ammo
But no gun
Michael W Noland Jun 2013
Birth me behind a curtain
Making certain
To block the light out

Shine me on
In a black out
Drown the sound out

Let me come to my own

Don't burn my eyes with your suns
Don't deafen me with your drums

Just let it come as it goes

As I for the one
Shall not go

Into your light
Your lies
Your fight
Your right

To live

Make me
Sick

Let me take
So I can give

Make you empty
Make you full again

Full circle I've gone
From goat to kid

As I again wish
To live

In your shade
Michael W Noland May 2013
You belong to the sun
And I belong to the dark
You can be the brain
And I will be the heart
We can be a bullet
And finish where we start
Michael W Noland Jan 2013
Shaking her ***
Like a baby trapped
In an electric bath
Logic was dispatched
At the door
The tragic path
Explored
Mapped
And gorged
Down the throat
Of a *****
Wholeheartedly
Handy with a knife
Carving lives
With her slice
Starving hearts
With flight
And jamming johns
With a fight
After taking their dice
All night
But
Its alright
They all come back to a him
Giving him money
And treats
And the occasional disease
The pimps at ease
In seasonal work
But when he pees it hurts
As well as the blisters
When he smirks
More than happy to lurk
In the murk of depravity
Michael W Noland Mar 2014
Invisible divisions of permissible
          incisions

      envisioned to see
the mission through.

Missing trains but passing through, watching me
    watching you.

          Nonsensical,
   reprehensible vessels
to my ventricle center

               Tethered
     on your bettered batch of *******
jet purpulsing slips of lips

My grips,
    our grip
    weakening
       on whatever this is.

           My bliss,
      your numbness,

  shiny,

    as blood
in moonlight is,

   ~ black.
Michael W Noland Apr 2013
Drinking time down with his coffee, he sits, fidgeting his pen on empty pallets, and with a straying mind, he writes three lines, and calls it quits.

The dark, is best alone.
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