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Here, where the lonely hooting owl
Sends forth his midnight moans,
Fierce wolves shall o’er my carcase growl,
Or buzzards pick my bones.
No fellow-man shall learn my fate,
Or where my ashes lie;
Unless by beasts drawn round their bait,
Or by the ravens’ cry.
Yes! I’ve resolved the deed to do,
And this the place to do it:
This heart I’ll rush a dagger through,
Though I in hell should rue it!
Hell! What is hell to one like me
Who pleasures never know;
By friends consigned to misery,
By hope deserted too?
To ease me of this power to think,
That through my ***** raves,
I’ll headlong leap from hell’s high brink,
And wallow in its waves.
Though devils yell, and burning chains
May waken long regret;
Their frightful screams, and piercing pains,
Will help me to forget.
Yes! I’m prepared, through endless night,
To take that fiery berth!
Think not with tales of hell to fright
Me, who am ****’d on earth!
Sweet steel! come forth from our your sheath,
And glist’ning, speak your powers;
Rip up the organs of my breath,
And draw my blood in showers!
I strike! It quivers in that heart
Which drives me to this end;
I draw and kiss the ****** dart,
My last—my only friend!
Sleep is assumed
Time is nothing, but resumed

the water is wild
her hair is long and piled

She hangs plates in a kitchen
where no food is stored near,
but memories are held dear

For he lost himself at sea
and here he sees (there is) no problem
This is the way he desires to be
 Aug 2011 Gabriel A Ramirez
I'm tongue-tied
I've lost my words
What's to say?
is not enough of an emotion to wake me up.

I'm too used to falling into nothing
I'd like the impact
Pain is at least

I'm too familiar with too many questions and tangled excuses of why and how or what to do next or cause and effect and the point, I suppose, is that
here, now
is ALL there is,
is all there is,
is all there is,
and that thought could be all you ever become, your world could be a brain and nothing else, or this poem could be your moment, or you could read this poem and think of something else and be nowhere, you could see your reflection on this screen and be staring infinitely back and forth at yourself between you and your reflection and then what? Was there a purpose?

This isn't a poem, it doesn't take talent to ramble. This isn't a poem, three monkeys could sit with a computer and in an infinite universe this poem would one day be written without me. This isn't anything to remember or forget, it just is, and isn't that the point?
Blindsided by a rhinoceros.
Tendons, muscles, unraveling. I can't do this any--
Glitch, system failure, shutdown
Restart, blue screen, flashing cursor
Epileptic shock. Epinephrine injected
Command line. Run:

Beautiful flying objects thrown violently.
Don't open this door! Kiss me hard
And not in a good way (if you remember how),
Like when fishes try to breathe on dry
Land on jagged Rock
Climbing without
Gears spinning and clanking
*** and pan. (Glass and sand)

Sizzling in this artificial sun
Created by brainwaves soaked in
****** and LSD and yellow cake uranium
Ghostriding patterns erupting like
Stop. Fail. Restart.
Detecting equipment...
No input present. How will you communicate?
Try again. Restart.
Password required.

Why don't you eat?
These tears are making my face numb.
Put this in your arm.
Trust me, you'll love it.
You'll have Tesla coming out of every orifice.
Dancing physics, matryoshkas.

You can deny the existence of a God and live,
But if you deny the existence of gravity...
Well, just try and walk off this cliff.

"These thoughts are so scattered.
I don't even think they're mine."
Those memories? They're not yours.
They belong to your master's daughter.
We're Replicants.
We boot up, we shut down, we most definitely restart.
Viruses make us sick and sometimes break us to the point where we need new hardware.
Sometimes they break our firmware and we need to wipe.
We have command lines to perform actions, and registry keys to keep memory stored of the things we learn.
The world is our power supply,
and when we boot up in safe mode,

we only use the bare minimum of our potential.
I must be dying, I'm only this awkward when I'm dying.
Connection timed out.

I may walk among the Lilly of the valley
And see the roses growing by the stream
It's so strange to watch the weeping willow as it droops
I wonder what are its thoughts and dreams?

I hear the birds call to each other
As they build their nests and prepare  the young to feed
It is sad to know there are those that don't live on
Their feathers the only thing left to see

I watch the bees around the pond
And I wonder how they survived before I placed it there
They flock to the water and drink their fill
I see a need that I am glad to fulfill

I feel the things that surround me
And I sense the life of every plant and tree
I hear the sounds of  people passing as the world goes by
But they are distant and lost to me

Their human nature holds no virtue
The time lapses into seconds and minutes as they pursue
Those worldly things so filled with importance
I think the time for reflection is overdue
 Aug 2011 Gabriel A Ramirez
Give me everything!
Leave me with nothing!
Tell me what I want!
My soul is incredibly gaunt.
You stole any possibility of being happy here
please, someone, lend me their ear!
Tell me I'm not wrong!
Tell me I don't deserve this song!
So lonely, so sad
so ready to drive me mad!
I hear it every day!
please! Take it off play!
I can't stand this melody anymore
it screams at me, it cracks me at my core
So I scream too, silent as death
scream till I'm out of breath.
Why did you do this to me?
Is this my fee?
My un-payable tole
to earn back my soul?
**** me... Just end it
I can't handle another hit...
Please... Stop the music.

There's a ghost of a man who walks the road, near an old homestead I know
I hear his voice a calling as he stops and puts down his load.
Then he leans across the gate there and I hear him so loud and clear, as he calls through the rain swept gardens, in a voice that's full of tear.

"Emma did you wait for me, I know it's been a long fight"
"Too many men have died there and the flames were burning bright"
"Oh Emma can you hear me, I know I'm long overdue and I've walked for many a mile now, trying to get back to you"

I can see the wings on his shoulders and the medals on his chest.
His face is filled with hope and pain, as he steps into the rain.
He turns and walks back down the road and stops at the old graveyard.
I hear his voice across the wind, and it sound so bleak and hard

I want to place my hand on his shoulder and try to understand his pain
But he doesn't see or sense me and if he could I would try to explain.
My mothers' tombstone rests there and had for half my life
Inscribed it says quite simply, Emma loving mother and wife

He will be here the same time tomorrow, he's never failed to appear
From the moment I first saw him, I knew he would always be near
He stands for one moment of silence, then continues on down the lane
As he fades into the distance I can still hear that ghostly refrain

"Emma did you wait for, I know it's been a long fight"
"Too many men have died there and the flames were burning bright"
"Oh Emma, can you hear me, I know I'm long overdue and I've walked for many a mile now, trying to get back to you"
Our hollow tidal pools
Wash back and forth between
Stagnant and violent
Timed like clockwork
And like somehow the ancients knew
The ocean to be in love with the moon
I know I am in love with disaster
There are no other ways to explain
The way the laughter gave way
To the sound of my body hitting the carpet
Kicking and yelling and grabbing at hair
To the sitting and waiting alone
For footsteps to come and strangle the silence
"You're a mess," was all she could tell me
In the soft voice of the lull between
Except that I make her sick
And waves will break on our startled hollows
Made only of sand and salty sickness
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