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Eyal Lavi Aug 2017
Bluelight Special
Eyal Lavi
Aug 2017
Hues of blue wash the evening sky
The moon, alone,
In deference to the sun-
-Which burns and warms and loves. And gives life.
To all within it's fatal grace.
A mistress which both loves and hates and bathes one in its warm embrace and kills one lest you lack respect.
The Bluelight Special
peaks above
The Eastern scape
And scans the West.
In hues of copper, rust and red
The Western sky cools as the day
And as the sun now fades away
In all her glory still she burns
And still she clings
And still she flicks
And spits and licks
Her flaming wrath
Her's is this world
And yet her grace
Which graces all
Is not enough
'Fore all her strength, nay! despite her grip
The world rotates
Though she objects
Yet nature does what nature does
And time ticks on-
-the day now gone
The Bluelight Special rises clear
And soft and bright
And rules the night
In peace it whispers
Can you hear?
The Bluelight Special says to you and me and he and she,
it whispers and the words
you hear
are...
The moon, alone,
In deference to the sun-
-Which burns and warms and loves. And gives life.
To all within it's fatal grace.
A mistress which both loves and hates and bathes one in its warm embrace and kills one lest you lack respect.
The Bluelight Special
peaks above
The Eastern scape
And scans the West.
In hues of copper, rust and red
The Western sky cools as the day
And as the sun now fades away
In all her glory still she burns
And still she clings
And still she flicks
And spits and licks
Her flaming wrath
Her's is this world
And yet her grace
Which graces all
Is not enough
'Fore all her strength, nay! despite her grip
The world rotates
Though she objects
Yet nature does what nature does
And time ticks on-
-the day now gone
The Bluelight Special rises clear
And soft and bright
And rules the night
In peace it whispers
Can you hear?
The Bluelight Special says to you and me and he and she,
it whispers and the words
you hear
are...
Waverly Dec 2011
Your lips.
Waverly
Dec 2011
Your lips were
at the bottom
of the shot glass
in that dim
blue bar.
Disembodied.
Bluish pink,
and swimming as I swished
around the last
of my drink.
Usually when I drink
I try not to think about girls,
because I get depressed
easily.
You rub my body
in moving beads
and your lips
and the bluelight
are usually the last thing I remember.
Maybe if I
take a girl in the bathroom
and ******* her
on the sink
as the oil in her hair
greases the mirror
and the flies watch,
maybe I'll be able
to blur myself out,
and not even go back
to you
as you stagnate
in a blue glass
full of
blue fluid.
at the bottom
of the shot glass
in that dim
blue bar.
Disembodied.
Bluish pink,
and swimming as I swished
around the last
of my drink.
Usually when I drink
I try not to think about girls,
because I get depressed
easily.
You rub my body
in moving beads
and your lips
and the bluelight
are usually the last thing I remember.
Maybe if I
take a girl in the bathroom
and ******* her
on the sink
as the oil in her hair
greases the mirror
and the flies watch,
maybe I'll be able
to blur myself out,
and not even go back
to you
as you stagnate
in a blue glass
full of
blue fluid.
BG Ibañez
Oct 2020
A boxy adapter with rounded edges
Manufactured to channel power—and yet,
Power that is not theirs. Only to channel it
To channel my Windows to the world
To close their Great Wall on our
Silicon valleys?
AC currents charging this Stylish Design i7
Distracting me
From the Capitalist-embodying communism
Red ruling over depths of blue
Screens, screens of bluelight-damaging sight
The sight to sea beyond
What goes South out to see
Pulling the plug on our freedom of type type type
Keep your distance—we can power your technology.
With Ching chong net worth, networks, and netted to worthless than
The need to work, school, hopes
and dreams.
Velcro strap, bundling up wire after wire after
They wiretapped their way
Through our bluescreen pristine.
Censorship, the anti-coronavirus
But virus? We don’t need your quarantine.
Now over 99%, fully charging us all.
For the mediocre price of freedomless speech
Who is in charge?
Manufactured to channel power—and yet,
Power that is not theirs. Only to channel it
To channel my Windows to the world
To close their Great Wall on our
Silicon valleys?
AC currents charging this Stylish Design i7
Distracting me
From the Capitalist-embodying communism
Red ruling over depths of blue
Screens, screens of bluelight-damaging sight
The sight to sea beyond
What goes South out to see
Pulling the plug on our freedom of type type type
Keep your distance—we can power your technology.
With Ching chong net worth, networks, and netted to worthless than
The need to work, school, hopes
and dreams.
Velcro strap, bundling up wire after wire after
They wiretapped their way
Through our bluescreen pristine.
Censorship, the anti-coronavirus
But virus? We don’t need your quarantine.
Now over 99%, fully charging us all.
For the mediocre price of freedomless speech
Who is in charge?
It feels great to be back. This poem is about my struggle with a certain country and the monotony of work...feeding into the capitalist cycle.