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Dante Blades Jan 2011
Lost at sea
Without a home
Caught within
The subduction zone

Come and feel my radiation
Revel in universal segregation
Robbing the king of his throne
Safely from the subduction zone

Run for cover
And Higher ground
The Hurricane's coming
Leave this town

Millions dead with no survivors
Where's your god now?
Smirking probably
The man is very Proud

What is the world but one big catastrophe
Catastrophe
Catastrophe
Kyle Kulseth Jun 2013
Buzzing brains. Familiar clots,
I'll slur my way through second thoughts
blot out doubts with distilled friendships
          roll tonight into tomorrow's
           bottled sleep

Counting sheep until the ground leaps up
           to kiss these puckered features,
I'll appease habit with sacrificial dreams.

Face lowered
                                      head under-
neath; the miles fold into a hood.
Long-distance.
                                     **** tired.
      of bleeding small amounts for greater good.

Quaking hands. Familiar shakes,
Five years remembered--fish for dates
Blurring hands held, smudging smiles
               cloud last night under today's
               soaked, waking sleep

Counting months until a year is up
      then fade out of the foreground
and appeal for a new picture to see

Hands folded
                                         in pockets
I'm southbound. Quench my thirst. Walk back home
Long distance
                                          still learning
what it's like to face a year out here alone.
ConnectHook Sep 2015
A hymn to paired planethood: Venus hits Pluto
as death, in cold orbit, collides with biology
smashing to fragments: demonic astrology
(more a black hole than a love-star, it’s true though).
Cynical cure for Eve’s womanly grievance
Concupiscent consequence: lust’s bitter fruit –
ah the thought… changing Sin into mere inconvenience.

Margaret sang her seductive refrain
about weeding the garden and progress and light.
Her sisters should view her with scornful disdain
but instead have adopted her murderous rite.
With sang-froid she promoted her racist eugenics
(as if she had never herself been a fetus),
condemning her heirs to postmodern polemics
while nurturing ardent desires to defeat us.

Suppressing the lives that she flushed down the drain
she would liberate Death – and resistance was vain.
As a midwife to modern life (though on the “anti” side)
Old Matron Margie racked up quite a legacy
singing the praises of sanctioned infanticide
calling the shots for the coming sick century.
Planning, quite calmly, to “cleanse” certain races
her zeal was empowered by murderous graces.
She labored to bring us such pearls of subduction:
“dilation and curettage”, “women’s autonomy”
“viable fetus”, “procedure”, a “suction”
Hippocrates retches to hear the taxonomy;
words that turn Life into mere reproduction.

She enters the realms of the ****** and the motherless
roundly condemned by her feminine otherness.
Man’s first protection: the God-given womb
which no infant should have to regard as their tomb.

Dismembered dark cherubs, assembling, greet her
as demons (in scrubs) holding baby-parts meet her.
Long may she burn with the medical cynics
this mother of Moloch, this founder of clinics.
Convenience is king when abortion’s the Queen
and the profits swell big with each nubile teen…
yet the fruit of such carnage remains to be seen.

I send her this song as a funeral wreath
and a card inked in blood. You may read what is there:
“To the Matrix Supreme of our culture of death
from the souls of the infants you slew on the earth.
May your torment increase with the children you bear.”
http://tinyurl.com/ortqfvp

Perig3e Jan 2011
As lovers we've learned
that you are the immovable object,
and I the irrepressible force,
though our ****** subduction truly terrifies the natives,
and has spun much aboriginal lore,
they credit us with Monsooning the weather,
but looking back, my dear, see the adorable mountains we've made.
All rights reserved by the author
Denel Kessler Nov 2016
Boundaries converge
subduction, descension
divergent margins widen
convective from the core
red hot and sticky
hardening to obsidian

succumb to subterranean pull
an infinitesimal slide below
dense and pressured soil
the slow parting seam
a rift becomes a chasm
consuming solid ground
Joseph Schneider Jun 2014
Life's reflection glistens through sands of time.
Days past due reunite with our current days disguise.

We glimmer in the false light portraying us to our knees.
Reaping such qualities turns our words to disease.

Acquisitions conquer minds through solid demise.
Leading hearts of hate to realise.

We are our own living destruction.
Believing such theories brought through subduction.

We replenish the rot of our personality.
To feast off our remaining qualities.

Together we fail united we'll fall.
Through the eyes of evil till death do us all.

-Joseph B Schneider
© Joseph B Schneider. All rights reserved
robin Dec 2013
i saw you last night in my dream.
we held tattoo guns.
we wrote the definition of friendship on each others' back.
when i finished,
your back read 'a refuge from the world.
somewhere you don't have to think about painful things.'
when i looked in the mirror, my back read
'a version of intimacy with less lying.
a way to share bruises.
a shared blood bank.'
sometimes the way you speak
makes me think you're composing letters to someone else in your head.
sometimes i think you only approached me because
you like small birds -
robins and sparrows
and wrens.
i like attack dogs.
i try not to project that onto people.
you said your name was the product of shame.
you said every syllable was a lie.
when time changes every letter of your name to different variations of
"bare legs and
brick pyramids and
ball and socket joints"
you will tell me to pronounce each syllable anew -
someone should have told you
not to build your body from bricks
when you're standing on a fault line.
don't you know california's known for its earthquakes.
don't you know subduction zones aren't just metaphors for you
and your latest lover.
stand up.
get off the floor,
stop crying.
it's not my fault you chose to love somebody.
your knees are raw and the bruises sink deep.
you laid persian rugs over all your linoleum floors
and the rugburn on your lips pays testament to your dedication.
while i am with you
you fall to the floor and whisper.
you replay every word you said to them
and fashion better lines, -here,-
-i'll show you that i love you, my tongue's between your teeth, i trust you not to bite-
you say -listen to me, listen:-
-there's a hell. i know it.-
-let's go find it.-
i keep replying but you just kiss the carpet.
when i started smoking you said you were worried about my health.
funny how you only notice something's wrong when something starts to burn.
funny how you didn't notice my white knuckles when you spoke.
funny how you didn't notice when i stopped replying.
i stripped all the color from my hair last night
i meant to dye it the color of your eyes
to remind myself of your
good points,
remind myself why i once wanted to speak to you,
but you know,
i think achromatism suits me.
hair the color of mist and smog.
i never learned the difference between smoke and fog,
i keep trying to smother clouds.
on cold mornings i close my mouth,
cover my nose,
try to starve whatever it is burning inside of me .
i suppose you'd appreciate that,
in your mind,
fire is a synonym for death.
you ***** all the candles that i light.
when i put an ember in my mouth you say -what's wrong.-
-tell me,-
-it's not healthy-
-to keep all that smoke in your mouth.-
-you can tell me about anything.-
i wonder,
who told you that spreading a forest fire
helped it to die?
i wonder who told you sharing sadness was the only way to be intimate.
well here, let's share misery. let's spread it like an infection, like an std.
1. when i am alone in crowds,
i find myself searching for faces of people i despise
that i haven't seen in years.
somehow i want them there more than the people i love.
2. i am a background character.
my only line is, 'let's get out of here.'
3.  i wonder a lot how happy i could be
if i wasn't here to drag me down.
i wonder a lot how i would have grown up in a cleaner town.
would i still be terrified of safety?
4. the only constellation i recognize is orion.
the only constellation i recognize is a hunter,
a human killed by gods,
a man slaughtered for the jealousy of the brightest god.
i tried to learn others,
but they never stuck.
never seemed quite real.
5. in a catholic classroom they taught me that G. O. D.
loved the smell of burnt flesh.
on interstate 580 my father told me never trust
a smiling god.
6. epinephrine and endorphins. epinephrine and endorphins. epinephrine. epinephrine. epinephri
7. my mother told me i was sugar and stardust and i
bled for five years
to prove her wrong:
copper and hemoglobin
and chloride.
8.  every boy looks like family i've never met.
every girl looks like a better version of myself.
9. i collect memories of girls
waiting at bus stops at night,
alone.
heads between their knees,
hollow but not empty,
trying to stay steady.
bleach sloshing in excavated ribs.  
10. sometime in the last half-year,
i have learned to despise you.
i am an american firearm and you give me another bullet every time you make your presence known.
i am a hammerhead  shark.
you poured wax into my gills
and tried to leave your seal on me.
congratulations! congratulations. you left a mark on me. you made yourself more than a friend,
you made me hate you.
do you feel significant now? do you feel special.
you can see the ugly parts now, when i spit in your face i won't make it pretty.
-you don't have to hide from me.-
-i want to see what you don't show-
merry ******* christmas! time to make good on your claims,
hope you were truthful because here.
i brought you my gangrene. i unwrapped all the bandages just for you.
sorry it's not quite as pretty
as those carpets you laid over your cheap floors.
i'll be standing by your fireplace,
lighting every candle i can find,
illuminating my body from every angle.
hope intimacy is everything you imagined it'd be.
Marshal Gebbie May 2010
Burnt umber in the morning
As the planets do align,
Ominously holding
To the Zodiac design,
Reminding us that somewhere
In the Bible, it was said,
That by the twelfth year of this century
Whole populations would be dead.

They say it is upon us
Those children of the moon,
They say the fingers of our destiny
Shall fall upon us soon.
Calamitous catastrophe
To befall the western world
That fiscal debt implosion
Will result with fraud unfurled,

When abnormal plate subduction
Along the continent's divide
Will magnify the earthquake swarm  
Across the planet's hide.
When enormous ring tsunamis
Emanate from deep at sea
To cascade onto shorelines
To wreak extreme calamity.

Across the globe, Astrologist's,  
Say something huge is due.
Their whispers quietly amplified
To percolate to you.
What little can be done or said
It's very hard to say
Because authorities worldwide
Refuse to recognize this day,
They won't readily acknowledge
Those symptoms verily to hand,
The frequent natural disasters
Occurring in each land.

Contagion is  contagious
The whispers may be wrong,
Perhaps the future holds for us
A vastly different song,
But when the moon is full and white
And I look into her face,
I discern a bleak anxiety
Destined for the human race
I see mother nature poised
To take the heavy, upper hand
With an implacable demeanor
And un empathetic stand.

Burnt umber in the morning
As the planets do align,
Ominously holding
To the Zodiac design,
Reminding us that somewhere
In the Bible, it was said,
That by the twelfth year of this century
Whole populations would be dead.


Marshalg
@theBach
In the cold moonlight
20 May 2010
Feeling the pain
of tectonic plates
shifting athwart my heart, I say
unbearable, but she will see-
subduction will not be the death of me.

Buried beneath,
what she betrayed,
this heart cannot go on this way.
The deep sea trenches in my brain
distort and break my peaceful face.

The shock within,
your evil sin,
fractured to the mantle, this
conduction brings a lava flow
I know my heart can love again.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Meryl Wisner May 2011
*** with you
is a workout.
Quick breaths and heavy heartbeats.
I love your sweat
and the way it makes your skin
stick to mine.

*** with you is a hurricane
violent winds strong enough
I’d blow away if I didn’t
grip the anchor of your hips.
I count seconds between
the lightning in your smile
and the thunder of your heartbeat
to know how close you are.
It is neuroscience.
Can you see the action potential
jump up the dendrites of my fingers
when I touch you?

It is a fistfight
it might end with
bruises and ****** lips
but it’s worth it for the adrenaline rush
behind the upper cut.
Later I can’t stop tonguing
the cut on the inside of my mouth.
I like the way you sting.

*** with you is a
wrinkle in time.
It’s the bottom of the ninth
2 outs, bases loaded
and time. just. stops.

It’s a SWAT team’s
flash bang.
The explosion leaves me dazed,
and I can’t hear anything but my pulse.
It’s any number of drugs.
Your tongue
tastes like moonshine
My body swirls
and my mouth rounds hollow
around the smoke in your kisses.
*** with you is
using all seven tiles in Scrabble
and landing on a triple word score.
For a moment,
I am invincible.

It is plate tectonics.
My body dips into the magma
of the negative space between your hips,
my favorite subduction zone.

*** with you is a math problem
It’s complicated and
it takes patience
but there’s not a word for the
satisfaction when my fingers
draw the last equal sign
and the red pen of your body
is silenced.

*** with you is like
sparklers.
I want to write our names in fire.
Tom McCone May 2014
a moment refines
least of all i, coarse
subdivision of all
second skies, stars,
or nothing, minute
from fall. or fallen
already. asleep for
hours. hope coiled
helplessness around
her wrist, caught my
head. spent days in
space. at least, most
of them. can't help
subduction any same,
another algebra in
stone. collapse like
month's passage. hope
won't speak, every
theory is glowing. a
year dissolves empty,
replacing every field
with stripmalls to
mountains again. a
century forgets regicide.

an eternity later, we
press against the wall
like dust coalescing.
hope strings us up,
couple more
embers in the sky.
some instantaneous forever ago, i fell
Ashley May 2021
Entanglement assumes
Subduction
I sink under your
molten compression

Shadow edges and
Depths of quintessence
We merge into earth
With oneness
Ashleykay2021
yama verita Oct 2020
i didn't followed you to the waters,
just so you could pull me under.
Alberto Jul 2017
Let me be the drop of ink
On your ivory canvas
Mark you at the center
Through suction
Came your subduction
Not a claim against your sovereignty
Rather passionate vandalism
From a guest stopping by
To your  milky temple
katrinawillrich May 2015
New wag, comma?
I Remember you.
Voodun done done it now
As if black magic
Were the true evil
That chose earth
To cast a drought severe
Enough to crack subduction.

Post-normal
Tags or label burnout.
I promised muse
I wouldn't **** around
With september
Im faithful that way.

Wiselands wasted in autocorrection
The
Luck of the intranet
Scene. heard ya
Nasa sleeps on amber alerts...
War is a money maker..
So says the general
Who stomped through my ivy in 2014
Hoping it would make me see things his way
Sense he, was on the inside.
I believe they do the right thing but ive been told that
im naive. I hate being told that, cause ima grown up
So says the kid in me.

Sometimes i feel soooo dumb.
Gabriel Jan 2014
In the confines of my mind, I cascade through time in way that is hard to define. Cascading through fire and transpire to a higher level, which shows my desire. The story of my life is not a gun or a knife, it's the fight for wrong, when all around me is right. Fight the monotony of the inner psychology that removes us hypnotically from the ties of duality.

            Being confident is not the same as a bully, cause aggression is not a scapegoat for ignorance, it's the aptitude of your patheticness. The coincidence of that ignorance is the submissiveness of a society that is blinded by fashion and ****** brain ******* **** tube of a generation. But the subduction of concussion that wears away at our minds makes us merely pawns in a sick kids game.

            Then cascade through dreams to find impossible things, and life, which we affectionately create with style that holds weight like one of the great lakes, but holds you in your place cause ignorance is your fate regardless of what pain you take. People are stupid!

            Is fate so often redefined by the curiosity of the mind, but your cloud will never move any faster, it's not the path that you take, it's the feelings you find along the way that define it. Emotions are transparent in the catastrophe of the spirit as you search for the meaning in your screams and sorrow, forever! But smile, "because ignorance is bliss"….
ConnectHook Mar 2017
(paragraph of prose broken into irregular lines and mistitled "poetry")

The technoid global middlemen
became Cro-Magnon underlings
and had to relearn flint-flaking techniques
after the adverse event
which God encrypted
into the underwear
of the overlords.
The logos logged off
forever.
The etheric records
were sealed.
The angels rejoiced
when silicone valley
slid into the subduction zone
(not their fault)
The remnant of redeemed humankind
told stories around the holy fires
about the dark age of technocracy
from which they were liberated
but none of the generation
born in the millennium
believed it was true
Awful free verse -
for an AWFUL age ☺
Ransom'sTake01 Oct 2016
Yes I feel the pain and yes I see the bruises.
Yes I've had the scars but really what the truth is
it's not those that've carved me but those that consumed my past.
Just hoping til the day I die the subduction of need will last.
Not that that was a need I just wanted a reminder,
that my pain was not in vain and that I'm still a fighter.
Though I used the edge against myself and I've been on the wrong the whole time,
I don't need self confirmation of confidence, what I need is a sign.
I know that times are getting dark and the world is getting colder,
and even still the world still feels right above your shoulders.
When I'm buried, put it deep,
Maybe then I'll get a better sleep.
Same thing goes for all the children,
Cause the Lord knows there's at least a billion
of them too awake of how the world truly is.
But then again, maybe then that's when they'll truly live.
Tom McCone Jan 2016
once again, point on shore,
with lit-up eyes
and soaked, gold: fresh hope.
grove of oak trees left long behind.
free, out in the open.

the cloudline, roused on
the edge of the darkening blue;
riled up, all in my throat, & i'm
counting down days
like evaporating droplets of mist,

i, the forest,
and accompanying subduction.
Delton Peele Nov 2020
Contemplation .......stone.......
Am I
Aggregate
......I am.....
Yet I am not
...I am...
Found within
Conglomerate
Product of
Metamorphis
In
Subduction zone
Most beautifull form
Imperial
Green is not my choice of color
......I have learned
To love it......
Its a show of
Sedimentary
Deeply
Hued
Jealousy
Adored and worn
Out by you
You being
My nemesis
Because you can love
.....I.....
Can not
......eye......
See youre happy
And in
Love again
And again
And again
I am still
Processing
Under your
Subduction
I will complete my phase
To be
Or not to be
Imperial
Jade
Or stay human
And learn to love again
Choice is up to you.
Nephrite or jadeite ..
Imperial jade?
Doesnt matter love has jaded me an I dont even know it!
Delton Peele Jan 2021
Feeling the brunt of an
Elegant misery
Challenging me
Disgruntled
refuse to yield
Face bruised
I try to
lowbrow
This abutment as the current of this world ploughs steady
Un giving.
Slowly my bow tipping
Creaking and groaning the
Resonating from the keal up through the gally
feel the icy deep dark waters like a hungry lover begging, wanting
Me,
Eerily quietly
Teary eyed
Abducted
Subjected to
Neglect
Everything is caving in
..............
Its haunting....
Knowing its death.........
Still ........
Atleast something wants me
.......
..she is ....
Soporific  
I grow weary of waiting the pain and pressure is morphing
Subduction into
Seduction
...weary
Slipping
Sliding .
Sinking in still thinking .....
Love......
Willllll........
S
A
V
E.........
.........
..
ME....
..
S.
O
S.­
MAY DAY
Nolan Bucsis Oct 2017
You stare out into those infinite horizons.
You see nothing.
No end.
To this stagnant desperation.
So, you chug the last of the whiskey.
Break the bottle against the truck.
And shoot something.

This is subduction.
This is desperation.
This is the void you fill with chaos.
Despite emotional, financial, grammatical...
any woe that doth assail
whereat early in the
morning until late at night tub bail
sinking craft, not possible
(essentially 24/7), I bewail,

where the fickle finger
of fate stationed me in life,
as if groping in the dark
unfamiliar with Braille
at heart though - directly predicted
on how yours truly did curtail

requisite healthy development of
body, mind, and spirit, yes analogous
to a train tragically did derail
in a near fatal
(scores of years ago) accident
(sorry no gory detail),

yet the impact still sorely felt
(argh...eek...ouch...all pains dovetail
actually more like subduction,
(way more powerful than deleting email),
sans plate tectonics geomorphism process
(a lengthy missive would entail)

full scale explanation, okay
in a figurative nutshell this, male
long (winded) fellow cannot Atlas
shrug off the belief he did fail,
and hopelessly embarked on
impossible mission to secure the Holy Grail

this state of mind linked to many pursuits
that metaphorically did fishtail
many objectives abandoned
finding me to flail
convincing myself at a
tender age incapable NOT gale

lent academically, athletically, avocationally...
thus many personal enterprises
witnessed a scared, hence best to hightail
further progress without testing potential,
I often ruminate, how aye did hobnail,

viz self imposed aversion to risk
on par with the most fortified jail
and one circumstance that
expunges burdensome junk mail
occurs basking under spray

as warm water doth prevail
cleansing, kickstarting, and
rejuvenating (albeit temporarily)
though some hours later...
back to choppy waves and torturous sail.
Delton Peele Mar 2022
Hate to say it
But hate,
Stay away

Once upon any given day,
Epitome of cliche
In serendipitous melancholy form a sorta alarm did force its way into what I call my red flag repertoire.
My naïveté in classic form mistook ,what seemed to be a general overall generic form of ,
One of many,canonized and I might add widely recognized cross culturally standardized communique .
A non rhetorical bait  used  In fishing for an innocent people response.
Which , to the best of my recollection unravelled a little bit like this......
Upon such a splendid mid morning hike to a much beloved utopian alpine snow crusted ,light blue frozen lake early august
a heavy ,comforting easiness clung lovingly to my young tortured psyche .....as it was unveiling to me this euphoric vision....
For the first time I could remember I had been given the keys to unlock .....me ,for I could see straight through time ....and I had no plans ,reservations or obligations....And with a paid hiatus work status.
An unprecedented glorious somewhat lascivious smirk was forming as I stood alone upon this solid granitical uplifted intrusive  batholith.
I  felt as though epochs ago this felsic majestic perch where I stood immersed in heavenly view of stevens pass all the way to Peugeot sound and beyond,had pushed its way into the county rock and stayed in appropriation for this day....,
I stood chest full of crisp ,
Cool ,refreshing clean air,
And yes somewhat aroused by some far off clouds which my pornographic mind had some how perverted .
Thats beside the point ...
I stood, blankly fixed gaze,slight head tilt with the south park Kyle like smile .
I almost swear I heard Angels singing........
Wait oh my ........
I closed my eyes tuned my head wrinkled my forehead.......
I ......do ......
I hear them .....
Wait ....theyre singing .....
***?!? .. Motley crue,?
The beginning of....
Dr. Feelgood........
Am I crazy.....?
Well thats a given ....
But *** is really goin on here?
I.........don't.....
Wait its my phone
Its ringing ...
Must be something excellent after all this build up......
I answered  bristling with anticipation.....
It's one of my buddies.  
He says" hey buddy   ,
Whataya doin ..........
For the next couple weeks?
And from then on
The onslaught continued
Untill I discontinued
Dismayed my cell phone
Moral outlook?
Took a horrible
Booked for suspicion of having free time.
Sentenced to a lifetime of
Hey can you help me with this?
Under intensive deep
Subduction.
Every plan previously made,
Waylaid!

Stale

Love me,
Love you,
You know I do.....
....
I just never get to have ....
Oh
...its an emergency ....ok im on my.........wait what
You need me to spring for everything ......right now your broke ,    
Ok youl pay me back though
Rieeeeet?
And what?
Pick up some coke .......
Ok .......
Actually  no
Not this time.......
Im grabbing mango pepsi.....
Coke makes me paranoid
my palms can grasp the calm rocks adjacent
to you. they are sturdy granite; they have ancestors
too like you and me. This fiery ball of earth cooled and created
these rocks. my sturdy world was built from an inferno of lava cooling. i wait
for humanity to cool, too -end its wars.  For our continents to melt together and create not just subduction zones, where granite
and granodiorite cool deep down in the crust,
but a world culture where we are encouraged
to live without exploiting
the earth and each other. Grateful
because this grip on this life is temporal
oh how more soothing its breezes becomes
when you are aware and can feel it  
hear the heart of life buzzing off with the pulsing
bee and drop onto the pistil
of a flower. This world is no more than pollen.
The wind carries this mighty dust and harvest starts
not just in the fields but in our fertile hearts
ConnectHook Aug 2020
Submerged remains
Of unknown cities
Under deserts
Once verdant
With vegetation...

Forgotten
Beneath subduction zones
Primordial primeval ghosts:
An anterior world
Judged by God;

Coal, crude oil
Sloughed-off debris
Of the antediluvian creation,
Organic life, massive greenery
Buried under great pressure

Blesses our world
from your exhaust pipe.
Crude oil deposits:
Evidence of the Biblical flood

— The End —