christopher-paul-godber

In the tomb of my memories I lie stretched out like some limpering anusmachine staring into itself for eternity, transfixed by machine eye I wish there was a nicer way to say this but there isn't - memory defines our actions in life we are prisoners to our past and nailed to our fates such as whimpering such as being pathetic in public such as drawing from the circuits the treachery of turds descending Morning **** Oh the release.

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Aug 22, 2018

Aug 22, 2018 at 10:11 AM UTC

**** Machine

In the tomb of my memories I lie stretched out like some limpering anusmachine staring into itself for eternity, transfixed by machine eye I wish there was a nicer way to say this but there isn't - memory defines our actions in life we are prisoners to our past and nailed to our fates such as whimpering such as being pathetic in public such as drawing from the circuits the treachery of turds descending Morning **** Oh the release.

14

One is an ape clothed in illusionary gold, the other, apes with the pretensions of angels- floating in the citadel of muses. Both burn in the end, both smother each other in the finality of themselves.

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Aug 22, 2018

Aug 22, 2018 at 9:58 AM UTC

The last Word on Men and Women

One is an ape clothed in illusionary gold, the other, apes with the pretensions of angels- floating in the citadel of muses. Both burn in the end, both smother each other in the finality of themselves.

6

Descending upon a barren desolate wasteland a true zone of infinity and depth one sees the crutch one carries into the ocean of plenitude and gluttons bearing torches snigger under death breath breath death smoking cigarettes in the carousal of fools. The carnival of errors, Life itself.

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Aug 22, 2018

Aug 22, 2018 at 9:54 AM UTC

F 0 0 l / C R U T C H

Descending upon a barren desolate wasteland a true zone of infinity and depth one sees the crutch one carries into the ocean of plenitude and gluttons bearing torches snigger under death breath breath death smoking cigarettes in the carousal of fools. The carnival of errors, Life itself.

11

A mountain of flesh corroded wires burning in an infinite black hole a languid putrid stench amputation of self- limbs digesting themselves in a landscape of nothing, nihilism the creed of kings the death knell of the zero sum point; praying to nothing in the void of meaning abstract nothing noise on the television set sick nurse sick nun putrid ***** on the mattress, wipe down despair blood running through the network stretched the howl of the living machine child crucified to the platitude of its own vision sexless borne of man, none, abortion aborted fetus, burning bright with eyes of circuit green dying, death, the finality of reason It was never real, Accept it.

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Aug 22, 2018

Aug 22, 2018 at 9:39 AM UTC

The Graveyard of the CyberChrist hordes

A mountain of flesh corroded wires burning in an infinite black hole a languid putrid stench amputation of self- limbs digesting themselves in a landscape of nothing, nihilism the creed of kings the death knell of the zero sum point; praying to nothing in the void of meaning abstract nothing noise on the television set sick nurse sick nun putrid ***** on the mattress, wipe down despair blood running through the network stretched the howl of the living machine child crucified to the platitude of its own vision sexless borne of man, none, abortion aborted fetus, burning bright with eyes of circuit green dying, death, the finality of reason It was never real, Accept it.

24

I love you, they're the hardest words to say but the easiest to engage in mind, sometimes. Deeply flawed man I am, drowning in my images my escape from reality well, sometimes, sometimes face it head on; I love the ways your hair soothes the storm, within, blasting the wolf from it lair, your hand softens my tense frame, this pen shakes. I love your flaws, they seal my wounds and I too can help seal and heal yours. There is no but here, it's from the heart, so take it eat, and let's dance amongst the stars as sprits of the animal night, eternally; I know it's sentimental I can't help the way the woods made me, carved out of clay, stay a little longer make me happy, this is the way, lay down and hold my hand as I slip, I will grip yours when you trip - Back into the mire, into the murk, we shall be together, forever in these woods, two wolves amongst the sheep, howling at the moon, is it ever too soon? I don't think so, no. Show me your heart - I can take away the pain. As I wane, I wane away in my ivory tower - craned neck to the stars I love you, don't explain - I love you Yulia no if's or buts, no refrain.

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Jul 17, 2018

Jul 17, 2018 at 6:46 PM UTC

(I)

I love you, they're the hardest words to say but the easiest to engage in mind, sometimes. Deeply flawed man I am, drowning in my images my escape from reality well, sometimes, sometimes face it head on; I love the ways your hair soothes the storm, within, blasting the wolf from it lair, your hand softens my tense frame, this pen shakes. I love your flaws, they seal my wounds and I too can help seal and heal yours. There is no but here, it's from the heart, so take it eat, and let's dance amongst the stars as sprits of the animal night, eternally; I know it's sentimental I can't help the way the woods made me, carved out of clay, stay a little longer make me happy, this is the way, lay down and hold my hand as I slip, I will grip yours when you trip - Back into the mire, into the murk, we shall be together, forever in these woods, two wolves amongst the sheep, howling at the moon, is it ever too soon? I don't think so, no. Show me your heart - I can take away the pain. As I wane, I wane away in my ivory tower - craned neck to the stars I love you, don't explain - I love you Yulia no if's or buts, no refrain.

36

and I do too, my uncle he gave me wings to dream on, fed me when I needed feeding not with food, no with dreams, and for that I owe him everything. That is why when he finally laid at his owl's rest this owl wept, and saying goodbye, left the final dream to rest. Goodbye Uncle Bob, weaver of dreams, and may a chorus of hooting owls sing you to your last detail, up there with the wise ones, forever looking down - with love.

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Jul 12, 2018

Jul 12, 2018 at 12:58 AM UTC

He liked the quiet life

and I do too, my uncle he gave me wings to dream on, fed me when I needed feeding not with food, no with dreams, and for that I owe him everything. That is why when he finally laid at his owl's rest this owl wept, and saying goodbye, left the final dream to rest. Goodbye Uncle Bob, weaver of dreams, and may a chorus of hooting owls sing you to your last detail, up there with the wise ones, forever looking down - with love.

14

When I'm happy a tornado of o's and 1's cascade from my heart, a why- an endless carousel of binary; But to be happy should be enough, in those moments when I freeze and smile I should ask for no more than that, that last little star in the background before the lights go dim, and extinguish everything.

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Jul 10, 2018

Jul 10, 2018 at 2:42 PM UTC

Nuclear Star lament

When I'm happy a tornado of o's and 1's cascade from my heart, a why- an endless carousel of binary; But to be happy should be enough, in those moments when I freeze and smile I should ask for no more than that, that last little star in the background before the lights go dim, and extinguish everything.

9

This is my soul; Please treat it well, The hells it has endured, many But none is equal to not Having you here, with me - free To swallow the snake, Ride the snake, that ancient lake baby. Nods to the doors not withstanding, I miss you love, I miss you three. I miss you Free. Your freedom, the freedom you offer me.

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May 14, 2018

May 14, 2018 at 4:37 PM UTC

Notes from a Northern soul

This is my soul; Please treat it well, The hells it has endured, many But none is equal to not Having you here, with me - free To swallow the snake, Ride the snake, that ancient lake baby. Nods to the doors not withstanding, I miss you love, I miss you three. I miss you Free. Your freedom, the freedom you offer me.

15

All this filth, all this murk it's all coming from me - no one else to blame, I believed in the woods once, could see the light through the trees, but now it is all murk in the mottled forest; The act is an act, the mask to hide from the world, my hollow shell, a cocoon; this convenient hideaway, measured tone, repressed thought, whirlwinds of desire. So you just run onward through the bones in the yard, saying hi to the pristine porceline girls of ***** on the way, spinning and grinning with jawed grimace, their faces sown in poetic indifference, and you want to remember That, once you were something pure. till you were about ten years old - sighing, carry on, knowing that your scars are your best friends, mutter with them, freeze the pain, don't drown it out, Believe, because the greatest lie is that man is pure, and life is not that long that you can ignore those smiles that are ok with that, and laugh about it along with you, in words , stories, and poetry.

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Feb 26, 2018

Feb 26, 2018 at 9:39 PM UTC

The Kidult Poetry Society

All this filth, all this murk it's all coming from me - no one else to blame, I believed in the woods once, could see the light through the trees, but now it is all murk in the mottled forest; The act is an act, the mask to hide from the world, my hollow shell, a cocoon; this convenient hideaway, measured tone, repressed thought, whirlwinds of desire. So you just run onward through the bones in the yard, saying hi to the pristine porceline girls of ***** on the way, spinning and grinning with jawed grimace, their faces sown in poetic indifference, and you want to remember That, once you were something pure. till you were about ten years old - sighing, carry on, knowing that your scars are your best friends, mutter with them, freeze the pain, don't drown it out, Believe, because the greatest lie is that man is pure, and life is not that long that you can ignore those smiles that are ok with that, and laugh about it along with you, in words , stories, and poetry.

23

He skulks around late at night, all hollow innocence to swallow, beast within burns his fire - demonic Dorian Gray, an infinity of void, reflecting through mirrors of lead The blood is the lifeforce of the words, it flows it's the rhythm that keeps on flowing, crimson -- Lifeforce within, flowing, like rivers in some ******* babylon, baby, pregnancy of the earth boom boom vampire bite, what a fright, burned eyes boo boo -- trapped in this zoo, man - caged beast, man. Every man is a caged beast, controlled and tied up, flawed creature, bashing head against the bars and poets? They are the most flawed of all, dreaming of escape, no hope, scraping the claws against the wall. Red crimson lifeforce flows, big bang bachelors drinking in noir nights, feeling the fright of the big girls against the ceilings, their dreaming lips which siren lust and *** screaming in the night siren. Bountiful **** ******* Sirens of *** burning in the night, hemp smoking in the corner, drink more, smoke more, **** more, feel more - red - red - red - red blood / blood / blood Give it in, keep it burning in your veins, through the heart that brain, it needs something to keep on ticking like the grandfather clock, tick tock tick tock feed your **** red crimson moon, find a girl treat her right, be tight with the devine that feline moma won't wait around forever so don't expect her too, just treat her right be tight, and hold her in the night, out of sight nebula dreams with your love, sozzled right. Wasted and burnt by your eyes. Seal her red within with your tears of divinity and bleed for her too when you need to. Red, like the colour of a rose, or at least the bleeding of a moon. Bada bing, bada boosh.

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Jan 5, 2018

Jan 5, 2018 at 8:40 PM UTC

Red

He skulks around late at night, all hollow innocence to swallow, beast within burns his fire - demonic Dorian Gray, an infinity of void, reflecting through mirrors of lead The blood is the lifeforce of the words, it flows it's the rhythm that keeps on flowing, crimson -- Lifeforce within, flowing, like rivers in some ******* babylon, baby, pregnancy of the earth boom boom vampire bite, what a fright, burned eyes boo boo -- trapped in this zoo, man - caged beast, man. Every man is a caged beast, controlled and tied up, flawed creature, bashing head against the bars and poets? They are the most flawed of all, dreaming of escape, no hope, scraping the claws against the wall. Red crimson lifeforce flows, big bang bachelors drinking in noir nights, feeling the fright of the big girls against the ceilings, their dreaming lips which siren lust and *** screaming in the night siren. Bountiful **** ******* Sirens of *** burning in the night, hemp smoking in the corner, drink more, smoke more, **** more, feel more - red - red - red - red blood / blood / blood Give it in, keep it burning in your veins, through the heart that brain, it needs something to keep on ticking like the grandfather clock, tick tock tick tock feed your **** red crimson moon, find a girl treat her right, be tight with the devine that feline moma won't wait around forever so don't expect her too, just treat her right be tight, and hold her in the night, out of sight nebula dreams with your love, sozzled right. Wasted and burnt by your eyes. Seal her red within with your tears of divinity and bleed for her too when you need to. Red, like the colour of a rose, or at least the bleeding of a moon. Bada bing, bada boosh.

38