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Bryce Jul 2018
I got an award
For being the stupidest young boy
With a wax soul
And impressionable.

I thought I'd find something
Nestled here amidst the trees
And I did,
But in no halls but the hall of god
Speaking to me
Dancing between the leaves
Singing with every whispered breeze
And yet when I stepped
Past the threshold and into the
"real world"
I was sold
A maniac of utter delinquency.

Everybody there
Waiting for their turn
Auditioning for the favor of hearts
They'll never win
Can't see
Laughing and wondering
Reading without comprehension
Sticking their *** in the face of the classics
Lap dogs licking the milk from
Professed *******
Thinking they'll be next

Its not resentment--
Is it fair to be bent
Towards dollars that've never been spent?

All those silly parks
Divided from the civilized lands
Frontiers of the past
Left to be little staging areas
For that invisible hand

Kids go on spring break
Take pictures between the towns
Maybe a stop along
On the way
To Vegas
Deep in the desert where it'd **** any other day

I cannot escape the unfathomable beauty of that place,
Living off the world in a way God said
To toil and love the pain
In a way nobody does

I am guilty of pride and
Stuffed like a pie full of anger
Cooking it into solid joy
And trying hard to scrape the cancerous crust away
All the dark sides we avoid

But screaming the heat away is good
Thermal induction is the name of the game
Entropic fizzlements like bubbles in the wind
Sublimating all that ever stood.

Yet soon enough I'll be born anew
And what I leave behind
Lifted up
Nautoloid shell
With a sparkling abalone interior
Someone will place on their shelf
And think,

"I wonder where that thing had been."
Robert Clapham Oct 2009
True tangled Gordian thoughts entwine
Amid labyrinthine paths that wind
Sliding sledding serpentine
To assay value and extent
Braid a mind a shoreward end
Seeking weeping thrashing send
Infused with knowledge deep and sound
A consciousness cogitabund
Within the portals self confined
Disconnected judgements breed
Diffuse journeys often made
To darkened places
Where no light
Of vision lucid sparkling bright
Will penetrate and seem so safe
Writhing heavy leaden womb
Elusive dissolute abound
Reclusive and so moribund
But in the darkened space there seems
A distant tendril sparkling white
A reaching focal point to strive
To make that leap
Great grasping bound
Wrapping arms so safe around
Clasping forgone lines abandoned
Sublimating impasse upward
Strength of purpose
Welling forward
Great eruption spewing outwards
Lava flowed eureka moment
Spreading outwards
Flowing downwards
Cogent sentient live born
Brewed in darkness
Drinks the bright
With clarity and strength unite
Dazzling brilliant shining moment
Cleft asunder glorious light  ....!
©2010 Robert Clapham
yāsha Aug 2023
drag my helpless body down the hallway
where it is dark and hidden from everyone,
a place too eerie that ghosts yearn to dwell and linger
—my purpose is quite the same after all.

compelled to conceal myself in the shadows,
sublimating to an unnoticeable presence
like speck of dust upon a quaint furniture
that no matter how meticulous and kind
the hands that care for me,
i cannot be wiped clean.

a miniscule of being that i am
only has a slight chance to be found.
to be known.
Ira Desmond Aug 2019
Saturn’s rings
are disintegrating

and Jupiter’s great red spot
is shrinking

and the ice caps on Mars
are sublimating

and our very own Moon
is slowly untethering itself
from Earth’s gravity.

In eight billion years,
the Sun will turn red and swell up

like a toddler on the verge of tears,
and incinerate

Mercury, Venus, Earth, and Mars—
all of our histories and fossils,

our legends and loves,
our monuments and our ruins.

You and I will be long gone by then, of course—
nonexistent to the extent

that we’re not even aware of our own
nonexistence.

Some people may think of death
as an inky void,

but it must be far more final than that—
an inky void would be copious by comparison.

What if there is simply nothing
on the other side of the curtain?

Perhaps it would be for the best.

For I never was able to avert my gaze
while driving past a smoldering wreck,

and you never could build up the courage to take a look.
Facile flirtations
Sighs and sorrows
The depth of brevity
Sonorously sinking
Rising slowly
Washed by the rain
Drifting
The swollen ocean
Rolling, pounding
An avalanche of sound
Cascading, sublimating.
I salute my sublimation.
tackle my monsters
with pen and paper,
Die in my art, you beasts.

all my characters are myself.
different shades
textures of my complexity
a palette of my entity

Im the protaganist
the underdog
idealistic dreamer
with a happy ending

I'm the antagonist
the enemy
cynical pessimist
with doom impending.

I scrape down on paper
these pages of me.

Sublimating aching
intermission from tragedy.
first poem in a while, really did feel the need to get some words out.
I really hope you guys like it :)
M Harris Apr 2017
Magnetic Contaminations & Audiotronic Visions,
Sublimating Poetic Transmutations Of Her Catatonic Provisions,

Primordial Metamorphosis Of Her Synthetic Overtunes,
Revealing Self-Perpetuated Biotic Tunes,

Protoplasmic Sparks In Her Cryptic Eyes,
Condensing Into Labyrinthine Whispers & Mortal Butterflies,

Myriad Phantasms On Feral Nights,
Fervid Effigies Under Moaning Lights,

Phantasmal Echoes & Mystic Whisperings,
Catalyzing Crepuscular Skies Under A Moonlit Spring,

Spiritual Crafts & Her Supernova Screams,
Evaporating Molotov Solution Of Her Liquified Dreams,

Untouched Realms & Her Ecstatic Overflows,
Refueling With Fantasy Effects Of Her Verbal Glows,

Arcane Stains & Her Floral Clones,
Primal Profanity Raining Over Her Coral Throne,

Handmade Essence Of Her Still-Born Eternity,
Recklessly Serenading Through Her Lacteal Galaxy,

Hypersonic Dreams & Venomous Virility,
Tampering Her Ionic Revelations Of Exquisite Hostility,

Progressive Factuals & Her Motionless Serenity,
Invocating  Her Violets Serving Blue Infinity,

Apparitional Mirrors & Her Immaculate Misconceptions,
Weaponizing Fireflies In Whisky Perceptions.

- 05:52AM -
smallhands Jul 2014
Isn't it great
Never catching a break
and reaping what you sow
Even when you feel you're
denying what you know
My lips are sealed
but my throat is exposed

-cj
Hate what’s mediocre and banal too.
Despise them both and take the two to task.
Their infection consumes flight of fancy,
Hidden behind a bland and facile mask.

Please write your tale to help disarm the pair.
Together we can speed up their demise.
Although there are greater forces at work,
Much more than most, the same do they despise.

It is still so, but the hatred makes way,
For the flight of our thoughts, thus creating,
Works of beauty; wondrous to minds of men.
What’s hated, in truth is sublimating.

The platitude “Thinking outside the box”,
A phrase by those whom ignorantly use,
Lead astray by these bland meaningless masks,
Fall short of honing tools with which to prove.

To begin with, there is a strong feeling,
An analogy in a nutshell which,
Is presented to aid understanding,
Curtailing a cerebral glitch.

Then a comparison to the flip side,
Passionately pervading all angles,
Adding anticipation and power to,
The carroty denouement that dangles.
Akemi Jan 2017
The frame has blurred away \ Fever death arising like burst glass || mangled spines \ This is the age of fact | where the violent insertion of cancer cells into animals is applauded by scientists across the globe \ Objectivity is the new face of barbarism | death god // sublimating existence for truth \ Raw data filters from the rot of deformed limbs | tweezers crush the heads living fish // guts spill | formaldehyde fixes the flesh of squirming insects | spliced genes splay the spines of mewling mice \ There’s no doubt || biology is the practice of death \ Animals without niches \ Organs without bodies \ Cells without hosts \ An aperture maw | red // yellow // black // white | leaking nervous tissue over an absent whole \ Reality has been atomised // brutalised // banalised \ Objective knowledge replacing all critical thought << [[Muscle // nerve // fat // blood // bone ]] Experience nothing \ [[The germ cell cycles every 28 days ]] Know nothing \ [[The average lifespan of a lab rat is three years ]] Feel nothing \ [[Over one hundred million are killed yearly ]] Science saves \ Biospace severed // prescription drugs fall // epistemic // into clean white bottles \
After getting a biology degree, I came to the realisation that for three years of my life I had studied nothing but death.

That objectivity is a throwaway term to allow morally inept ***** to slaughter as many living creatures as possible for the sake of publishing a scientific paper that will be out of date by the end of the decade.

That anthropocentricism, utilitarianism and humanism allow one to circumvent any and all forms of ethical debate over the suffering inflicted by science on other life forms.

That animal ethics is such a joke to the University that the only exercise we did to confront it was stick a pin on a string, the left pole signifying comfort and the right discomfort, before cutting into a live eel.

That statistical and categorical norms allow for those who define them to dominate over those who deviate from them.

That truth is like any other commodity; completely divorced of its origins; a free-floating fact whitewashed of all bias and blood, to be consumed without any thought as to its production.

That science isn't progressive, but a conservative body miming apoliticality, while developing lethal weapons for imperalist armies.

That this world is abhorrent.
Al Jul 2016
there's a lot to feel looking over this sight.
you're so high up and so far down that
here, the sky is a formality and the concrete
might be invisible to your eyes.
like this, something seems to hover in the air.
what it might be and what it would be—
i wonder perhaps if i should care.
as i peer over the edge of the world's bed sheet,
i can see it, yes, the depth i would fall:
six feet under ground, sublimating like alcohol.
you know, i've never actually drunk champagne before.
We are not what we seem to be,
To be,
or not to be,
what a joke.

We are always,
never are we not,
existing forever,
sublimating never,
never to be forgot.

Matter cannot be destroyed,
souls are made of the same stuff,
mind and body,
edges tapered to the triumphant.

We are far more than we seem,
far more than the sum of our parts,
our insignificant parts.

What we are is the culmination of,
what we are,
what we were,
and what we ever will be.
A.P. Beckstead (2013)
Monisha Oct 2019
Just like that,
I felt a sprinkle of pain,
You know the kind that gnaws and grows,
And nibbles your insides.

What started it, I wonder,
A buried thought,
a deserted experience,
Befallen, buried, squashed,
Run asunder, but still alive.

It pushes through the barriers to say,
Hey you! Yes you!
I exist,
Don’t think your looking away,
Will stop me coming back, some day.

Huh! I beat it hollow,
and there it’s slimy self crept back,
I had learnt not to feed it as it would grow,
I keep it on such a strict spartan diet,
My oh My! Look how bulbous it looks!

Hmmmm! Pain, were you feeding inside of me merrily while I was asleep,
Chewing my tissues, chomp chomp, burp,
Deep so very deep,
I feel I am missing a bone or two,
you gluttonous pain,
I am sure you’ve gobbled up many cells too.

Dark, gray, silent, doom,
Am I on for lifelong gloom,
Aah! Hrmph! Boo hooo!
What do I do,
So many around me,
Who do I reach out to?

Oh I do reach out,
And they say,
You? Couldn’t be,
You’re so strong,
It doesn’t fit you well, this pain you see!

I laugh, Is this pain
A size smaller for me,
Am I self indulgent,
In saying it hurts.

I start looking around,
And see many like me,
Laughter hiding the pain,
Cloaked well, their touch warm,
The tremble reaching out in vain.

It’s tough, this despair,
Sometimes with valid cause,
Many times so much accumulated,
Unaddressed, unmet, covered with gauze.
It rears it’s ugly head
For many
Eating their insides,
It’s canine jaws,
Sharp and unrelenting.

I still don’t have an answer,
Who does really,
Expectations, recriminations, justifications, validations, manipulations, mechanisations,
Eat us up a bit more.
We sleep off some days
hoping to sleep away to nothingness.

And then we arise to the morn,
The sun filtering through, casting its warmth,
A bird in the distance chirping away,
Pain still there but so are my fingers glowing like starlight along the Milky Way,
My limbs stretch and I purr away,
The clocks tick tock,
Reminds me of a chance,
A new beginning,
A fresh start,
A fresh me,
A wounded but mighty heart!  

Facing my pain instead of sublimating it,
Nursing it tenderly instead of ill treating it,
I know you’ll ease out, heal out,
And I will be better each day,
Because this life, this beautiful life,
Is worth living each moment, every day.

When I face you, I shall share you,
Tell your story to those I want to,
And suddenly, you will feel acknowledged and dance way into the oblivion because you’ve been sung to, heard, cuddled and celebrated.

Till then, I trudge along...
This is an ode to so many of us who carry burdens of hurt, unresolved pain, and stories to self which need to be heard. May you seek and find those willing to listen and hold your hand, sometimes that’s all it takes, sometimes you need more, but seek you must. I send you my love and hugs and Godspeed to find your pain and acknowledge it, only then healing starts.
KM Ramsey Jan 2016
i would give everything i am to feel
settled in my own corporeal form
tied down to my organs and tethered to my body
intertwined in a reality that
others can access
and isn't their acknowledgment proof enough
that i am of the world
and here
here
her
that burning girl dancing in the
flames of my own house fire
since i doused myself in gasoline
and lit a match

look at me
burn your eyes out of their sockets

look at me
and remind me that i'm here
right here
with you

tell me you're not going anywhere
as i watch you drive away
in the smoke of your absence
so i light a cigarette
maybe the blue smoke curling from
the smoldering cherry
could recreate our life together
but it keeps me standing on that curb
and watching you disappear into the distance
to the horizon
where you fall off the face of the earth
my face
with gorges carved out by
sea salt tears
and i scream for punches
and slaps
i ache for raised bruises
slowly falling into the bluish purple of twilight
and lingering in the verdant green grass and
yellow morning sun
so i can't forget that pain
finally made evident
physical

and i scream into another dimension
so no one sees my anguish
i bottle my message and send it to sea
half hoping some caring soul discovers my secret shame
half hoping it is consumed by the tempestuous oceanic depths
but all i want
is to show it to you

i want to give you
everything i am

i want to share with you
an authenticity i have evaded
truths and reality i have run from
so maybe i know that
you can handle me
that your calloused hands can
grasp my flaming unbridled terror
without sublimating into nothing
and leaving me with
the inevitable culpability that
as always
implicates me in
the destruction of all things
and the death of all hope i had
lashed around the idea of you
and the naive thought that you
love me
and

everything i am
letters to you i'll never send
Nevermore May 2020
I wonder,
If you were still alive
At 104 years old today,
If you would have been proud of me,
If you would have liked what you saw.

You knew me as the toddler
Who insistently took your hand
Before crossing the busy Chinatown street,

But not as the awkward teenager,
Anger simmering beneath his acne-riddled face,
Eager to prove his growth,
Trying too hard with his vitriolic rants,  

Neither as the young man
Floundering about in his twenties,
Dissipated on intoxicants,  
Groping about for direction,
Pining for a woman's companionship,

Nor as the married man
Who had attained independence,
Having found a way in life,
But now longing to regress to boyhood,
Sublimating his regrets in bad poetry
Scribbled between issuing memos and contracts.

Just what did you see in that toddler's future
As he waddled across the bumpy cement streets
Dappled with horse manure spilled from kalesas?

Did you see a man with broad shoulders,
Employing hundreds and feeding their families,
Making a tidy profit week after week?

Or perhaps an academician,
Erudite and eloquent, a debate juggernaut,
A far cry from his forefathers' humble beginnings
In some fishing village from Bumfuck, Nowhere, China?

Or did you just hope
For your grandson to retain his heart
The same one that prompted him
To take your hand as you crossed the street?

I still think of you at times
And wonder how things would have been
Had you been around,

If you would have bore our valley days
With your trademark stoicism,
Anchored father with your presence,
And have finally reined in
Grandmother's bladed tongue,

If we would have eventually shared
Your daily quart of brandy
After weathering with ascetic patience
The sound and fury of idiots.

How you would have seen
With your own eyes
The clan flourish and increase
In members, clout, and material wealth,

How you would have sat
Stone-faced but proud
As I took my steps to patriarchy
And started my own tribe,

Albeit with someone outside our race -
Worse yet, a descendant
Of our colonizers from the war.

(I wonder how much convincing
How much yelling from father
It would have taken
For you to relent)

I know I look back too much.
I guess there are too many unexplored paths,
Too many phantoms who remained acquaintances.

Or maybe I'm just like father,
Habitually framing the present
With the context of the past,
Always romanticizing the bygone
With the wine of sentiment,
Though reality would have been harder, drier,
And we needed the magic of romance
To make reminiscence palatable.

Thirty years have decayed my memory of you
To but a reconstructed charcoal sketch  

But it does not make me miss you any less.
May 20, 1916 - February 10, 1989
Happy birth anniversary.
Of "permanent" Sleep

Abbott, nothing beats the
     immortal heavenly reincarnation
     after mortality odometer
     unexpectedly set to zeros
preparing deceased
     body, mind and spirit,
     as I eternally rest in peace
     asthma terminally ill self pitched

     forever and anon deathly yoyos,
no matter rigor mortis froze
poised position aye chose
with limbs akimbo
     as final seconds didst close
before transcendent
     shimmering light rose,
     this sentient being

     now en route to bro's
and twisted sistah,
     I pleasantly heard angels
     counting black crows,
thus, aye beamed delightfully,
and joyus lee, when innocently
     proudly dashed of this prose
during, what seemed an infinite

    walk to the gallows,
nonetheless, an everlasting
     slumber awaited compared
     to a brief, yet
     temporal quality repose,
now soul to keep
     will join rank and file
     standing straight as arrows

of Harris Hessian brigade,
     (though unusual, untimely,
     and unnatural death,
     I am NOT opposed
     attested by this germane guy),
     than...,undoubtedly
     much more refreshing
     albeit prolonged dose,

where the corporeal self goes
into permanent deep slumber,
     yet impossible to regale,
     and add depose
(of beatitude), until
     til the end of timed minutes
     after eyes close,
where eyelids shut tight

     like miniature steel trap doors,
     and subconscious self flows
into deepest forever
     rapid eye movement
     from head to toes
sublimating forever into
     vividly profound, albeit
     immediately forgotten dreams

     representing lifetime aiming
     to get deceased expose
zing for all the world to see
     how non wakeful state grows
absent heroic measures
     prolonging awful existence,
     whew did close
subsequently brows

out, asper misguided
     wrongful death sentence, aye
     whole heartedly embraced
at long last NO more
     struggles, aye suppose,
NOR fending off grogginess,
     when living times predominantly
     felt many futile attempts witnessing

     chronically tired state, whar
     this plain being oft times
     took **** NON
     fatal Kamikaze nose
dive finding (not ready
     for after life prime time player
     unpracticed to prolong fatigue pros),
say ick lee, hence physical self

     dove right back dwelling
     amidst sleepy hallows
presently able (I cane)
     cease worrying stave off
     indomitable drowsiness succumbing
     to overwhelming tiredness,
which occasionally (nee daily) warranted
     necessary advantageous measures

     intravenously access
     sing caffeinated jolt
     to get a headstart, jumpstart,
     and kickstart from
     sipping morning "Joe," Blows
i.e. coffee than marveling
     as "FAKE" energy
     noel hunger grows!
Dennis Willis Feb 2022
I've been calculating my life
over rice
I've been percolating again
thank you
Against the grain making
grin (awkward)
I've been sublimating my life
now you see
I've been culminating all along
feel the rise
I am candilating my life
on the way
meaning surrenders
and making stuff up
puts down its tools

I'd like two ******* to go

I'd like skin against me

I'd like nothing so much
William Bratton Jun 2020
At length we move in spaces well known
Minds winding around travelled roads
Thoughts moving in posted directions
'Til suddenly an obscure path appears
Unexpected, unknown, unmarked, undisturbed
It is there that we hear a soundless voice
Whispering the way, the road to tread
Fearless, resolute, unbound
Colors unveiling as our hearts unfold
Sounds rising to symphonies
Forces sublimating by divine volition
Flowing freely out of space and time
Stars gleaming in wondrous form
Beckoning us to move on and on
Delving into the blessed unknown
Towards the approaching sacred light
from whence we had come
Welcome home!















© William Bratton, All rights reserved
Dennis Willis Oct 2021
Is an ****** done
with quantum mirrors
is life and death
a glittery refraction
that is just so tasty
you can't stand it
you standing wave
you coursing lyric
singing thru diamond
shaped reflections
sublimating along
hop hop hopping
Otherwise known as
absentee ballot/ mail-in ballot
if ye read no further... please exercise
opportunity to cast ballot
obviously freedom to choose,
but take serious stock of human *******
(desperately calling out
for the Maugham me)
regarding: economy, integrity, monetary, xyz...

Anyway, twas quite
pleasurably comfortably seated
cerebrally assessing optimal choice(s),
carefully using dark ink
to designate candidate(s) on roster
without being inconvenienced
versus scouting out parking space,
doubly troubled with meteorologic curse

as weather turns severely inclement,
subsequently wading thru
still waters that move deep
(cue electorate getting
splashed courtesy angry driver)
finally standing in long line
closely resembling infinite jesting
looping Möbius strip.

Throughout mine voting career nsync
back then a whopping $2.30 =
Pennsylvania minimum wage
ohm eye dog...!

http://www.winedecider.com/
en/vintage/1977.htm lists oenophile vintage
I teetotaler shied away alcoholic usage
wine not axe else questions,
who experienced tutelage?

Extreme social distancing stage
then identified as introvertedness,
sublimating any rage
me i.e. wallflower never invited to party,
thus remain shtup in boyhood bedroom
when chronology equaled quarterage
compared to present orbitz around sun

now... still smarting - essentially
never made psychological pilgrimage
to adulthood, oh for sure parents
found withdrawn behavior (mine) an outrage
depriving yours truly natural
linkedin interpersonal discovery(ies)
emotionally shortchanging me – noncoverage

replaced with buffering self in isolation
yea... kinda like quarantine mirage
minus coronavirus - COVID-19
never learning/mastering dating language
hence... alone within
mine emotional wilderness
analogous to Matthew

Scott Harris's private hermitage
20/20 hindsight heart wrenching gauge
long haired pencil necked
hippy caricature just a lad
dinned during rosy 1960's flowerage,
reaping what I did sow
with rusty and fragile equipage.

Metaphorical three strikes disadvantage,
nonetheless below shows initial POTUS,
spouses (FLOTUS), plus
respective vice presidents
upon me attaining
legal Pennsylvania voting age.


1977-1981
Jimmy Carter
Rosalynn Carter
Walter F. Mondale
1981-1989
Ronald Reagan
Nancy Reagan
George Bush
1989-1993
George Bush
Barbara Bush
Dan Quayle
1993-2001
Bill Clinton
Hillary Rodham Clinton
Albert Gore
2001-2009
George W. Bush
Laura Bush
Richard Cheney
2009-2017
Barack Obama
Michelle Obama
Joseph R. Biden
2017-
Donald J. Trump
Melania Trump
Mike Pence
Landon Keys Nov 2020
Here I am again
Longing for resolution.
There You go again
Sublimating absolution.
You remember when
We laughed about it then?
I recall now
Thinking naively
In the end.
Here I am again
Content with life's endeavors.
There You go again
Faking lover's fervor?
That tunnel
The stairs
All memories held fair.
Though maybe I should admit I know
I always knew you'd eventually go.

— The End —