Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
mike dm Jan 2016
this is the first day that
my grandma
didn't
get to live
since a really long time ago

what can i possibly say?

i want to curl up inside my own fist right now
like one of your old matryoshka dolls
that i used to play with
and put you inside me so i can make it all better

i wanna recall all the thoughts
that once were yours
i want to know you why didn't i get to know you better

i stayed away im sorry im strange i get sad a lot but i loved you still

she had once
been
a person
but
now
she isn't and
i can't stop shouting these rips from my eyes
dm micklow
2.3k · Jul 2016
i meme now
mike dm Jul 2016
slipped glyph.
this and that; wracked
in some silly, heady
packrat skyscraper
of leaning light.

then's flicker of vague regret hangs around, because life.
because letting go is never really, ever, fully possible.
misremembrance -now- retracing my..

it was
as though
you had written,
signed and
sealed those
few words
themselves,
with your own
blood and bone


and yet i
can-
not recognize
my own
penmanship
anymore,

nor this, here,
outstretched hand.

howamievenhere?

*because a winged thing, other,
has this history
by the tail,

and your thoughts are not your own
dm micklow
1.6k · Jun 2014
fresh out of fucks to give
mike dm Jun 2014
I give zero ***** anymore.
I have no more ***** to give.
I'm totally absolutely incontrovertibly
fresh out of *****.
My supply of *****
is completely out -- see??
[cupboard door swings open
Only to reveal
a fuckless cupboard]

Even the **** Store is out of *****.
I called them just now,
The guy on the phone said he was
Fresh out --
He told me:
The production and manufacturing
Of ***** has been outsourced
To Shenzhen China,
And the workers are striking
Because they are getting paid
Fifteen cents an hour to produce
6 ***** a second --
Which is inhumane and just wrong.


I asked him why they didn't pay better --
He said, ***** if I know! Like I said,
I'm fresh out of ***** to give
So who gives a ****?
1.6k · Feb 2017
waning yeses
mike dm Feb 2017
i wanna be the sun so bad
but this moon spoons
my dark spaces so v good
1.5k · Jun 2014
unfriended
mike dm Jun 2014
We unfriend so easily --
mice clicking

Memories --
Just a bunch of ******* memes --
Nicely, slickly
1.3k · Jun 2014
wink
mike dm Jun 2014
Deep down
I crave the sacred
Now that everything is
Just a dust mote limping along
The curvature of a light beam
in this dilapidated house

I've winked
At everything but the kitchen-sink --
Although, I do have my eye on it

Cynic
Know-it-all that knows he knows
Nothing
Conflicted

I wish I knew subtlety

Mona Lisa's quarter-smirk
Makes my emojis feel
Sorta slutty --
like they try too hard ya know?

^.^

Heaven:
Rainbow-colored
toothbrush mustaches
And
Killer drones friended by elm trees

Dissimulation is
my religion
Because
it just explains things,
It walks back the big crutch
It makes gods into amoebas

All. I. have. are. words.
******* scribbles.
Stillborn syntactical limbs of whim
Severed at the moment of send

Yet still
I deliver and hold them
Close to me
They are my ex-press
A last confession straight to the quick

The world doesn't spin it screams
We just Van Gogh it with
Slurry nite nite sleep tight's

God, what I would *give
1.3k · Dec 2015
eating
mike dm Dec 2015
one hand
driven up sunken
inhaled midsection
resting at wet sternum
pausing to spread
five fingers
i can feel the beat quicken

digging them in
i inch up toward her

body angular  
waves of her churn
i eat dishes beastly
her entire plate clean
1.3k · Apr 2016
little notes
mike dm Apr 2016
let me yoke to you.
twist mine into yours.
***** me in at the hips.
lift me into your if's
and have me, present.

our torquing bodies
charging each other,
holding back the

bloom of darkness.

yes, it is true:
we are
closest to the dark.

but we are also
sown to the broadest urge
that wrote us.

this ebb is lit with written poems,
receding into the lightness of dense being.

so,
jot me
into this

and i
will
exist in
your margins,

like nice little notes
that mean everything in the world.
1.3k · May 2016
light, swiped
mike dm May 2016
my skin
is thin and
swimmingly scrim.

the moonface
pushpulls me.

i am
moved
too much.

i am
not enough
mover.

i am *****
given,
all too often.

i am
not
me -

i am you
in your supine
palm.

i matter
little.

my
molecules
are
fast
becoming
transparent,

vibrating with the sound
of your voice, which

seems real
-so real-

real
like
when

the kitchen
sink
disposal

runs.
1.2k · Aug 2016
copywrittenly yours, you
mike dm Aug 2016
troll tooth
oger toe 
flow stupid 
fistful of shiny carbon lattice wilt
and a composted halo too
beautifully torn derivatives slid
from this orifice
oven timer set fer 

office space wasted

noob cubed 
these are exponential times we're livin in, sim

yer prolly obsolete, so tap the banner below
for more there's more
trends friend then interrogate 
unfriend those has-been's for the win dim 
naked lightbulbs swing from
threadbare strings faster than light plus **** too 

there's ***** adorno

how right you were 
this **** is almost criminal 
art narcs on

the hole a' truth
so help me dog

im
the hominid 
that stood up 

this fiction.

slipstream hoolahoop no-show
dm mi c   k lo    w
1.2k · Feb 2017
this is jus a poem
mike dm Feb 2017
sidelong wakesleep
her face halved
in periwinkle sheets

one sun stripe
zips down the room
partioning the dark

toes yawn
under the sheets
inadvertently scratching me

her breath
so much more (or less)
than i could ever poet
1.2k · May 2016
living off the land
mike dm May 2016
rooster crow.
goat horns clash.
sudden sutured glow
for what is left

of
this

soul,

comes forward
into thought.

soon i'll know
what it feels like to find roots;
or i won't,

idk.

afternoon slow
blue sky flies
off the tips of treetops;
old-growths,
ancienter than dragon bone femur,
scraping aged skylines.

im

earthing
in
my
mind.
1.2k · Jan 2016
Untitled
mike dm Jan 2016
i guess poetry can be used
to inspire optimism
and make people feel good,

but i'm looking for the kind of poetry that
eats the air
from my lungs and
sifts my holes
with a fistful of dead flowers.
1.1k · Feb 2016
Untitled
mike dm Feb 2016
i know
a soul
that has a poem
writing inside her.

among other things,
it has written me down, there,
on the backside of her third rib.

i, consumed
by a certain peculiar meanderlust,
curl up
along its
metamorphic edge:
riding those finishing strokes
that forever code your own typeface as such.
dm m
1.1k · Apr 2016
the feels for this poet
mike dm Apr 2016
your blackbow words
melt my syntax
into a scarfelt dew

things
feel
possible again
when i lay myself down
along your darklit spectrum

my words
prostrate before you,
crowgoddess,
ruler of all
that twiststurns
and licks clean
this lonely vessel of yeses no'd
1.1k · May 2016
blank page, wait for me
mike dm May 2016
light magenta vertical;
gaurdian of the margin.

light blue horizontal;
conveyer of the ledger.

the space
between -
white teeth gleam,

refracting
lunarlit scribbles

across one loose leaf,
fell by some god
awful idiot,

all for
you
to space

out
on.

i will be
written
down
yesteday

in elegant
recursive
flicks
of the

wrist -

a has-been
fate.

so, i am not supposed to be here.
not anymore, anyway.

i know that.
i am three-hole
punch drunker.
awkwarder.

but those potential
whatif's glyph bright
behind closed eyelids,

and
it

makes
me wonder
just a little longer.

indigo
cursor
blink.
blink. blink.

blink.
1.1k · Jun 2014
nature's switch
mike dm Jun 2014
I dissolve
When I'm in the thick of nature
It turns my brain off (for once)

Smells cast spells
Sounds surround
I am finally in it

I feel
Sparse

Whittled down
To bone and breath

Arabesque complexity nixed
And I am
OK with that

My worries
Go extinct
1.1k · Oct 2015
a land of yay
mike dm Oct 2015
once upon a time
there was
a circle

and it drummed
and it
strummed

and the lump
in
my
throat
the size of a tyrant's
fist
dissolved
into
a pure
white light feeling

and i was a

person

a part of something
not apart
not asunder  
a heartspace coming coming

a star starring

afar
in the distance
guiding my lost feet toward
an oasis
that actually

is

a new start an art of being dreaming awake made

for you

a land of yay to hold in the palm of your hand and
a vibrating tone
resonates in that numb sternum
a tone that
lay
one
shade
away
from the ten thousand and ten whites of the first light
ever lit

Her womb receiving you
again
1.1k · Jun 2014
a comment on music
mike dm Jun 2014
crumpets and tea,
taken with grinning powdered wigs
go scrumptiously well with a Mozart piece played in the tired drawing room;

Tchaikovsky's Fifth
would have the subject alone
in the vestibule,
ear against the ballroom double doors of ornate mahogany,
muffled and muted and just being;

Philip Glass
Is
The oppressed past lit --
A futuristic glance
over one's shoulder
Regifting an overrated present
1.1k · Jan 2017
i can't write
mike dm Jan 2017
Inhale all of those felt bones. Observe. Skeletons will dance in the dark for you..

Hang them up. Tilt your head. Curl your hair. Bite your lip. Wonder at them, feel them

as a thing
too.

Wonder at
how they
diminish us
with such
gentle clinks
of their being.
1.0k · Feb 2017
paper
mike dm Feb 2017
the ever briggy snapperjab,
once as trallhup as spacescrapers,
had his woo jotty happenstance
jejuned and nooned

and i soon saw
that i too was too much tooned
in the known visible wavelurf
where roving fate is ghosted
by inexhorrorbull ringly meedecree
of blingee choo choo Hist-o-Then

ever since,
my crave
has castled me down
into whitened gray limb petrify

where diggy beclouded sendersave replaces
1.0k · Jan 2016
super mario flow
mike dm Jan 2016
sometimes words pour out of me. but mostly i pour them. what comes out is.. is..

monkey suit
ontology that thinks he thinks an original thought or two describes me.

i really need to grow up. act my age. get out of this

place. yuhknow?

hi friend. welcome to my scream of consciousness. boing.

do you ever ever wonder when or
how the was had -even- been,

or whatever? sky outside looks like nintendo again, full of intent and so forth.

yes, of c i feel fine. why, this primal horde is not mine. it's your sub sea too.
all have crawled from it. exchanged that'sfishy for this. ex-istence is weird, sorta.
1.0k · Jan 2016
please
mike dm Jan 2016
chew your thoughts with your mouth open

i want to see
all of you
teeth, tongue, throat, synapse, neuron
stammers and spasms and
flashes of crippling vulnerability
streams of lucid genius
speechlessness' met with
one single look that utters sunsets
giddy ****** kid

i want it
glitch and all
mike dm Dec 2015
i don't have anything to say. not really. how can i when my own bones feel like strangers that pilfered a body when nobody was looking? when i speak, small echoes of some one else kindly pull at my fingertips, slipping under the nail and past the cuticle where it unfolds like sad gods found to be made of origami swimming in a sea of memes. it hurts like hell. and so, i've come to know silence. it holds me. brand new shell. my process, felt.
990 · Dec 2014
app
mike dm Dec 2014
app
i want
this stream of consciousness
to pool around me

but its rushed feed of tumult is
only mine to thumb through

i dip one finger in
eddies pixelate skitter strip

look and
catch a glimpse
of brilliance yet

ultimately
bleed
into a

scream of conscience

i
am
funneled toward a

delta
leading my unheld hand off
to a sleepy deep dive into nothing i know im

drown
ing
980 · Apr 2016
figure
mike dm Apr 2016
her blooming figure gyrating
arcing, tilting, wilting above;
my tasting her secreting prose,
licking all the lines

that come
and go

like fallen petals hugging themselves
in moonglow spell,
lit with an aftercoil meld, blueblack waters stilled
947 · Apr 2016
ode to the bluest blue
mike dm Apr 2016
you glazed bricks blue
at Ishtar Gate,
deep seas where
lion, bull and dragon dwell

you are featured on
the gold funeral mask of Tut,
adorning his brow line
in deep eternal hues.

your name is summoned
several times
in the Epic of Gilgamesh,
the oldest known piece of literature
known to exist.

your mere
consonance
of L's
and slant
assonances:

eleven tongues licking all my holes.
944 · Feb 2017
another sophia
mike dm Feb 2017
and she spoke,
and her lips were myth;
her tongue, song:

forehead scar shone
lodes of rune
re-membered ember
of yesteraeon soot cooked
sitting fire in ashen ire re-sired

without him

her self
felt, *******
clod alive

tooth of skull
culled forth
bone spoken
tomes uttered

and i felt her light enter
this dilating space
of ebb and ruin and alone

stile of mine
thresheld, again
footfall of wynd,
blown open
into dope field sprung swim
926 · Dec 2015
constellation of hurt
mike dm Dec 2015
bold glitch grip
you've been colored violent by It
code writ scrapes
large like star whorls flake

one solitary chromium petal fell
into a river with a mien of mum
where it wilted
filled with ****

and you watched it come from afar
you saw the small sun become runny
don't lie

dear scar
you must collect yourself or
the ruin of ars
will still
what is ours
into petrified mime
mike dm Feb 2016
I would humbly put forth the idea, quite prostrate, that it would do us some good if we were to put aside, for a time, our epistemological certainties and archetypal savior fixations and, instead, opt for a more robust, ocher-hued ontological preeminence: putting the what before the why.

Only then can one, say, sip hot herbal tea from an old pink bone china teacup and, without thinking about all the things all the time, for once -just- feel the sun's warmth on your aged face as it begins its set over a half-eaten cotton candy sky that is epic af and reminds you of Peter Pan and then Robin Williams and then whywhywhy and then something random and weirrrd, and, in doing so, you can watch the lack of shittogetherness, of which duly occupies the very seat of your character like a bully usurper that hits you bc "he loves you," melt into a very (very) temporary oblivion and revel in what is before you without feeling paralyzing angst that is, usually, soo angst-y that you gotta pronounce that **** in German as if you were Schopenhauerly sitting at some non-descript desk in some non-descript room with your hand stroking your truly descript crazygeniusguy hair that is some kind of proto-Wolverine hairdo (and you wonder if Stan Lee was cryptically tipping his cap to S's philosophical pessimism with this peculiar gesture; consider googling it but don't because you've already googled too much sheeyt today), thinking (or brooding) about how much of a ******* Descartes is with his whole, yuhknow, theory about some ******* secret nanoputian angelic chemist that sits at the pearly gates of the Pineal Gland and performs the sacred transduction of the divine ghost, or whatever. Otherwise you are, like, consumed with analysis, which is a complete ******* bore and - let's face it - a thoroughly transparent attempt to sound smarter than you actually are.

This herbal tea I'm currently drinking has "rose hips" in it. Dear botany, that image is fun.
913 · Feb 2017
note to selves
mike dm Feb 2017
keep it simple
just a wrinkle
calm as flower

pedaling fingerfelt winter sun

(if only
if only)
mike dm Oct 2015
im broke n homeless i dunno where to turn i am like ten tears streaming down the face of ten twofaced absentee aloof no-dogooder gods in the rain time is running out i hope im not jus character fodder for your book i err hereby reserve the rights to my genius dont steal my genius what is genius anyway why am i so tired all the time. All. Is. Not. Well.
869 · Sep 2014
Backspace
mike dm Sep 2014
Blinking cursor
Nemesis
Friend with benefits

I
Spill
Pixel

And disseminate wisps
A dais for your tor
Glyph of whim

Cursor that waits
I know you
I know you all too well

You grant a world of potential
And yet I'm all knees
I bite the curb

My words spent
conferred to a
Vampiric ligerhawk Nemo

Whom eyeballs me
Into an X
New Document
mike dm Apr 2016
dropping cool green sour grapes  
into your gaping mouth
hips angling into mine
867 · Dec 2017
kissyface killer
mike dm Dec 2017
twofist head muscle: kineval.
but really iz jus 2:15
shoelacegazing in a prefab park gazebo.

texty fingertip slinger.
chase that dragon.
kickin fake jordans
in a tomb called Khufu

diffuse serial NOONSDAY scenario:

always
cut
the
pixelated
rainbow
wire.

yuh know, that

jejune
box
hero:

from alphabet soup news to
netfizzle huludoodoo,
twiddling its Neros.

V iz for silent
in the actual voodoo
that’s been silenced
with dogooder silencer.

blap.
blargh.
this is all so
hashtagical.
prolly. so
follow me.

anyway resistance is feudal, ‘cause
evil doth hearts a good fight.

“evolve?! nevar!”
quoth the flat noted, dorsal
Dept. of Unkindness
mike dm Feb 2015
i prolly
jus fell out of like
w u

when u
didn't text me back
about that awesome GIF
i sent
of the white Jets
snapping their fingers
843 · Jun 2014
interrupt
mike dm Jun 2014
i'm so tired
of wanting to become something --
grand designs
doing pirouettes in my little head --

i just
need
more time
to think things through

plastic tines
stab at forks
in the road

silly you!
trying to stop the decision-making process
like a child
with a rhyme

speaking of the devil,
for a limited time only,
**** the walking dread
that paces at the foot of your being
like a thing in need --
how? thought you'd never ask ---
i'll get to that, in due time

-- i will say this though: it's not with an ax
or bow
or some moralized TV show
nope

nothing like that

the need to be
to be --
that

is the imperative --
timeless
tasks tasked with go-forth --

we feed on it --
always pressing forward
always-already doing things,
going places, lurching concern,
consuming steps steps steps

listen

progress is
a stone alone inside my pocket
-- watch it
bloom tumultuous
into a decision to be undone ----

I am
The backward startle
Flesh made text

Know this:
All will be retraced till
All that remains is
a waiting cursor --
Blinking blinking
Blank page staring
Into your you --
The mess undressed, ****** --
Don't unfuck it --
Allow it --
Let it ******* for a time

Then go hardly softly into the night
With steps alighting
Bold events of past doings lit
Given another chance

The was made present
A specter sent
To turn the insides of your bones
Into channels --
Canals of then-time (makes sense)

Get to know the script
Then flip it
Budge its molecular structure
See its words squirm
Make its serifs recoil
And strike at your command

Crazy? Yes
Impossible? Perhaps
But your verse must be heard
The play goes on and on and on
Until you decide
To interrupt it
842 · Dec 2015
spill
mike dm Dec 2015
carve the bark
you plus your love
testified
made hard

heart needs a box locked
otherwise the feels fly

or maybe the big ought's that hover over us elide
that long hair lush inside
a sin if let down or
maybe jus one small discretion
to put behind you

or maybe it's an observance
to a rune more ancient
than history and its codes

your orb at work
his swell under spell
turn around and don't look over your shoulder
little spoon arch
wrap it in silk
spill the milk
827 · Sep 2014
What's the Use
mike dm Sep 2014
To bleed the binary
And speak fluent touch and
jaguar yawn
Is that asking for too much?

Think on it, friend

But there is no time to think
The hands circling
Always circling
Losing their clutch

Sloth
Downed from
The canopy

Little small
Specks of ****
Will be the end of him

All that is accomplished in cubes
-time well spent-
Mustn't ever reach
A white-eared Sibia
Alighting a Sakura tree flush in pink
Drenched
in the cool warm glow
Of a winter star that now must go

Swift quarter-inch turns of the head
Lazily nimble
In its slim space
-it could even fly away if it so wishes-

While he
files away widgets

His time is near
He feels it
thread stripped
From the twist the twist
825 · Apr 2016
grape skin crush
mike dm Apr 2016
and bright orange
clementine,
peeled,
for your open
mouth. i adore the **** out of you,

queen of my
imagined scene,
finally traversing this

digital space

to eat
each other
up.
mike dm Nov 2015
that cold, brisk sorta smokey smell of autumn tho that infuses your nostrils like an ancient tonic which abruptly awakes you from ugh slumber and blah dumb depression, and, somehow, weirdly heals the affects of those two festering holes left by energy vampires that ****, literally and figuratively
mike dm Aug 2016
margin of pen offend
rise up till elliptical
last breath thin swim
817 · Sep 2015
a thought
mike dm Sep 2015
I wish to know the universe in all its various weird manifestations. I want to hibernate inside a lenticular cloud for one year straight; I want to be suspended among cryophiles living inside ice cores buried deep deep underneath cold opal blue polar ice glaciers and snowfields; I want to be amid the thermophiles and feel the flames of the sun lick the very essence of my soul from within its hot orange nuclear molten core; I want to wander in space, float in zero g from one celestial body to the other.

But most of all, I want to be. Jus be. Like a bullfrog on a lily pad croaking into the cold thin night.
800 · Jan 2017
Awake
mike dm Jan 2017
I am standoffish scar. Armfuls of hurt worm through this spar, this whisper no longer here. A thread of then, turned lead now. Eater of blue. The glib is winning. It's too much. It tires me. I'm always tired. Why? I'm never ever going to be me, again. I am lined with lines of lies lied, ******* and gagged with ballnchain blame games. It's easy to lay me. Sleeper of sleep, pulling my sleeve into childish reveries of when nothing was anything but that was ok. I know it wasn't really actually ok, but the thought of good times haunts the line dividing me between the wake and sweet release. I let it **** me
799 · Sep 2016
wend
mike dm Sep 2016
open your mouth --- wider
there, those are bones
roots known by the flesh

look at your fingertips
they too bear the bone
scrim ***** coverings, ten of them

the scar on your skin
observe it
harm came to you
visited you - did you

re
member
it?

or did you
bottle it
and set it to
the dark green
murk beneath?

is it a part of you
that you shun? embarrassed
by its inarticulate language
curling and lunging

discolored other?

animal, listen
your mouth noises: mere symbol

your thoughts:
brief shimmer o' the surface

this is black
you are but blue
that is all
798 · Sep 2014
Thumbs up
mike dm Sep 2014
Thin wafer of silicon
Placed on my outstretched tongue
Giver of life(lessness)

Finitude is beautiful though
****** digits splayed
One thumb grows from my tongue
794 · Dec 2015
i surgery
mike dm Dec 2015
i pick up the instrument
cold but not aloof
angle and roll my wrist
watching one thin voltage of line
zip up and down
from tapered metallic crown
to broad black foot

glint of bald brilliance
swimmingly alone
one singular streak so very true to itself
reacting to this act
uncut

struck
am i
by the lean careen
i am unstuck
agreeing to its scheme
exact
cupped

i fashion myself
written down
code scrolling upon my being
informing conduct
with form of fury
it glows with obligation
it knows no theory

i do not try
i let it scry  
history's sloughed golden bones
hover above vision's groan

i slip it in the inbetween
wings shook violent
no longer lame
ferocity of aha gained

two saturated pools
consent and
circle the hurt drain
only hue of heal of remains
787 · Dec 2015
everything is gonna be OK
mike dm Dec 2015
stress stress stress
stress stress
stress stress stress stress

stress
stress stress

stress stress stress stress
stress helpiminhell stress stress
stress stress
stress
787 · Jun 2015
the aim
mike dm Jun 2015
is to see --- i mean REALLY see ---
my situation
for what it is

to stop bullshitting myself

and then
confronted with that
bored whitened knuckle
muster one final act of bravery and
turn off the lights
784 · Feb 2017
if you ever
mike dm Feb 2017
if you ever meet
any little differences out there,
then run: find
a yellow lukewarm,
well-lit square
to take care
of you.

all those
who loved me
i've ran from

if you ever come across
unusual syntactical arrangements
in your head,
**** 'em off w good ol'
reverent dread.

all those
who love me
i run from

if you ever stumble upon
weird words strung together
while on the bus,
cut em off quick w
well-worn scripts.

all those
who will love me
i will run

if you ever cross paths
w themes juxtaposed irrationally
in the fridge,
eat the hummus on the door ---
not the severed finger in the crisper drawer,
signaling for you to come closer;
closer still..

all those
who have love
run run ruuuuuun
Next page