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jonchius  Sep 2015
201505
jonchius Sep 2015
checking potent aftershock
observing seismic anniversary
checking another tremor
resuming constrained writing

annexing hidebound constituents
hugging incoming eschatologies
fighting pervasive insomnia
battling invasive fatigue

damning incompetent fools
awaiting furtive escape
abandoning corporate wasteland
summoning celestial syzygy

detesting spaghetti code
protruding riparian dolphin
establishing unilinear escritoire
glowing cybernetic cynosure

avoiding eternal invisibility
supporting valued customer
performing lexical gymnastics
scrooping notification sounds

restoring usual happiness
glorifying darkwave fanfares
collapsing old relationships
raising ambient awareness

defining wolf people
propagating yesteryear's spectre
achieving hemispheric virality
testing weekend legerity
installing iron curtain

propagating today's spectre

developing niche audiences
transmitting abstract propaganda
disappearing thought experiments
overusing various condiments

double-checking hyper-real emotions
rubbernecking celestial explosions
observing splendid holiday
exploding volcano day

erupting bucolic mountain
disrupting hectic shouting
perfecting suggestive triptychs
checking festive pyrotechnics

drifting across multiverse
regifting glossy paperwork
writing six-lined hexagrams
liking two-toned instagrams

recalling pygmalion sculptures
brawling tatterdemalion cultures
"rambling corporate shill
rattling rapid prosody"
"battling hamburger hill
ambling hundredth library"
"sensing ideological schism
pending guttural neologism"

glowing verdant background
foreshadowing palmyra takedown
developing geopolitical mess
geminating quasi-couplet stress

"hugging cultural diversity
shrugging irrational adversity"

distancing spooky raindrops
avoiding potential burnout
implementing lexical databank
approaching crash-scene sudser

becoming increasingly selective
escaping tyrannical bureaucracy
perpetuating cut-throat capitalism
purchasing contrived happiness
incorporating chance elements
relaxing rigid structures
reheating your retweet

holding theoretical design
smiling beach life
scrutinizing eternal simulation
rushing artificial apothegm
annexing facetious document
freaking creepy centipedes

writing neural structure
congratulating yestreen's warriors
encouraging seatbelt usage
boosting abstract setting
sensing frivolous ochlocracy

keeping hypothetical metropolis
blurring metaphorical æsthetic
scrutinizing computational festival
memorializing towel day

raising six-fingered paw
eternizing fragment schedule
liking subtextual repository
quoting quintessential quidnunc

finding ideological style
disregarding their slovenliness
planning spatial factoid
spinning glacial ellipsoids

enjoying eternal spreadsheet
deleting repetitive tweet
awaiting festival lineup
gainsaying unethical startups

observing turgid experiment
contemplating conniving contrivances
enjoying dynamic project
dropping two-toned simulation
finding harmonic space
finalizing warring cavaliers

detecting enigmatic apathy
retrieving potential exchange
meddling middling muddling
baking hypnagogic pizza

spinning galactic dinosaur
building trans-pacific partnership
finishing theoretical mission
giggling agog googlers

crashing atypical tessellation
cherishing precious hexagons
proliferating western lottery
cretaceousing funkaholic skeletor

blurring turgid gallery
cancelling tsunami warnings
extemporizing incoherent neologisms
transmitting harmonic rave

gliding black hawks
hiding quacked ducks
archiving animated light
googling moonbow imagery

ignoring relatable messages
observing unfinished world
generating optional content
continuing exponential growth
May 2015
zebra  Jun 2018
*Porn
zebra Jun 2018
when i want inspiration to write poetry
i watch a heaving tempest of kisses
they have a better flavor
than cooking shows

what's prettier than pretty pretty
in pigtails
shaking her delicious
derriere whipped Soufflé?

i'm kissing butter princess
witchy **** 
spread lickity splits
eating her
with a big wide **** eating grin
like an open face dagwood

whats more poetic than that hopeful glaring
of
Adonis's plumper in paradise
filling Cleopatra's slathered meringue?

ga-ga-ga-gag me, daddy
merciless, pa-leazze
fluttered big wet talking eyes
like pools of blue honey
getting it zigged zagged
hard against a redraw mouth
throttling fluted gullet
while eager throat gasps
a symphonic music of the spheres
in relentless staccato chokes
lovin her big devil **** splashing
all gym built wonder-boy
a litter of ****** and tongues
licking pig greedy
rapturous milkshake waterfalls

whimpering
mmmmmm
oooh big daddy
oh my ****** god
pillar of colossus
you Tunisian donut you
pierce me like a spoon
through summer guava


who screams like that eating lunch
but a half ate apricot?

better than a football game
I'd rather take her greek
more fun than math or small talk
preferable to a pat on the back at work
or a ridged procession at a funeral

oh beautiful dark fig
squatting crotch candy
bubbling tapioca ***
queen of
spun sugar **** 
all pyrotechnics
and fluttering sinews

if you asked most
do they watch ****
they'd grow smug like a senator
or punch you in the mouth
outwardly high-minded
refusing the blessing of a
video **** parade
of pirouetting vaginas
and glistening areolas
for the glory
of the secret ******* ceremony

the *** moralists
only good for a secret ******
living their lives
with passions submerged
and nothing to confess
except for guilty offerings
as they wander through dreamland shopping malls
wanting to know
Victorias ***** little secret
seduced
but not caressed
by
a mouthpiece for castrated dreams
*** adult
L B Mar 2017
Black, Swiss cheese hulk on horizon
The James Longstreet
immobile old freighter of the bay

Towed to the ignominy
of its last commission
in the curled arm of The Cape
Tides flex their muscles against it
But The Longstreet is steadfast
in its dark purpose

Standing target for practice

A sortie if planes home in on its bulk
Honing their skills
on this  “fish-in-a-barrel”
Thunderhead-etched pyrotechnics
Booming follows the miles over water

Against The Longstreet’s silhouette enduring
even God fixes sights
firing bolts across its bow
taking aim at our futures

Standing targets for practice

Vietnam? Cape Cod?
No difference to teens
before life’s ocean of conscription

Sand is cold beneath dunes
Beach grass rustles
to the pulsing surf
to the wind’s whispers
just below hearing
as if there’s a secret
that must be kept

We are targets for practice
We are meaningless din

Pulling our sweatshirts and blanket closer
The Supremes sing thinly
from transistor
“Stopped for a moment in the name of love—

Thinking it over”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p38khYKxqLI

The Target Ship has now disintegrated into a sunken reef and sanctuary for ocean wildlife.  The above video is a cool tour complete with perfect music. Enjoy.
robin  Apr 2013
untitled #2
robin Apr 2013
and i've been tired for so long i can't remember how alertness tastes
because boredom with life is a habit i could break
with a bullet
and a lapse in cowardice.
and when the planets align i know i could
but mars is falling and pluto,
pluto crumbled while i watched the rain.
my roman candles are alight under the clouds
and i let the rain drown the fuse -
i'm afraid to be awake.
stillborn child, i was d.o.a
why change that now?
all these pyrotechnics just
reek of desperation
so i drop mine in the lake where they belong.
with bullets on my breath i watched the rain
while pluto crumbled above
a negligent god let the universe fall,
a negligent god let words of love
be scribbled on the walls of his church.
i'm tired of life and death would be a nice vacation
but i don't speak the language
and the exchange rate is too high
so i sit by the runways
and pretend i'm leaving too.
i watch terminal patients die
and put myself in their place.
dark tattoos below the eyes
like a bad decision
another fight lost.
throw the fireworks in the gutter
and hope the sky stays dark
tonight
roman candle heart sodden with rain,
i wouldn't know what to do with consciousness if i had it.
i fell asleep by the runways and dreamed
that i lived forever
unrequited adoration,
a one-sided love affair
with death.
all my idols were runaways
and i worshiped them like an eclipse
i worshiped everything that devoured itself
and anything that dared approach
they said **** your heroes
and i dropped cyanide in a whirlpool.
the balance between insomnia
and narcolepsy
is fragile
and my inner ears burst when i tried to retrieve my
fireworks
from the bottom of the lake.
too tired to stay asleep,
i watch the rain
and catch fragments of pluto on my tongue.
dead nerves, damp fuse
alexithymia and apathy
lie along my veins like cyanosis
blue lips,
blue lips -
neptune in my mouth like a bitter aftertaste.
pluto below my eyes,
mars drowning at the bottom of the lake.
if the planets were aligned this would fly true,
but the threads are tangled
and it's another casing at my feet.
infinity is not a number, only something you can
reach for
or run from,
cowering in the safety of ze
ro.
the heresy of nonexistence,
the concept of nothing vs the promise of heaven.
in a whirlpool i found my calling.
in a whirlpool i devoured myself
and spat myself back out again,
dissatisfied with the sour taste of
stagnation.
i missed boredom when it was gone,
ached with the hole it left
and the sudden shock of
consciousness.
you know boredom has a smell?
it smells like honeysuckle
and fog
and apples rotting on the ground because
the harvest always passed us by.
i found one of those apples
and filled up the hole boredom left.
rotting autumn in my chest,
apple-heart,
ennui like a second skin
or first language.
i tried to learn another but it remains,
the language i think and smother in.
      you know
in all languages but this
my name means nothing,
just a collection of syllables to spill
out of a foreigner's mouth

in the language of death my name means nothing
but it's all i know how to say
title ideas much apreciated
Shaded Lamp Aug 2014
The air hangs heavy today
After last nights banging of the drum
Its strobe light pyrotechnics
The awe inspiring deluge
That washed even criminality from the streets
The old horse-chestnut tree who's shade I often steal
Proudly exposes its now swollen spiky fruit
We sigh together, this old friend and I  
Another summer will soon come to pass
Let us drink its final rays
A quick check of the weather report confirms my suspicions.
Political correctness has reached a brand new low
It has now reached good and evil
And has changed things down below

The devil is still the devil,
That much has not changed
But, the food is all organic
And the meat is all free range

I didn't know the changes 'till
I made a plea last week
To sell my soul for increased wealth
And other things I seek

I expected a commotion
When the devil came from hell
But, there was nothing quite so flashy
When someone...rang my bell

I answered thinking nothing much
I looked outside to check
I am wary of the Mormons
and Jehovahs on my deck

I looked outside and there I saw
A man dressed all in grey
A poll taker, election geek
Let's see what he may say

"Good day, kind sir, I come to you"
"You wanted to be rich"
I thought he isn't from no bank of mine
He said "Sir, just call me Mitch"

"Mitch", I said, "I don't know how"
"you'd know I want to sell my soul"
He told me that was why he's here
To get a deal done was his goal

I said, "why use the door bell"
"Why not the cloud of smoke"
He said "with budget cuts'
"Pyrotechnics made us   broke"

"The PC folks got wind of us"
"of our tricks and double speak"
"Now, you sign away your soul to us"
"but, you can get out within the week"

"We can't go by the same old name"
"Hell is not allowed"
"We're H...E...double hockey sticks"
"Try saying that aloud"

"It doesn't have the forcefulness"
"That the other word once had"
"we can call it heck, if we're in a pinch"
"You can see, it's got quite sad"

"The contracts are all readable"
"You don't have to sign in blood"
"With *** and STD's"
"It may as well be mud"

"A soul still has some meaning"
"But, as you yourself can see"
"The devil stays at home now"
"And sends his minions out...like me"

"I have a small brochure for you"
"You have choices, please pick six"
"It's more a club, a health resort"
"In H...E...double sticks"

"I can't get out, I'm stuck for good"
"I signed my deal before"
"The PC people got us good"
"And now...we use the door"

"Please look over the contract"
"Take your time, and read it close"
"You'll find it is a real good read"
"With language, non verbose"

"If you should have some questions"
"change your mind,  or want to tour"
"Just call me on my cell phone
"I'm at star66 extension 4"

"I'm sure you'll still come down  to us"
"It's not so bad, you'll see"
"Just call me when you're ready"
"You've got time, now we're PC"
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2017
that **** of a neighbour i mentioned
once?
     he's selling his house
   and moving to, somewhere like
chelmsford, in the heartland of essex.
i win,
the breaking point must have come
when i was teaching my other neighbour
(joseph) pyrotechnics...
- i'm pouring this white spirit
   onto the mattress, but the **** still
   won't light up!
- joe... you need something lighter,
   get some toilet paper,
      soak the toilet paper in the white spirit
and put it under the mattress...
- oh, cool, great idea...
   phooooooooooooooom!
   i was running like a hare from the fire
donning slippers...
      i then excused myself,
even though i was offered beer:
- i feel a bout of diarrhoea coming,
   sorry.
and sure enough... niagara falls....
half an hour later, he was throwing
a television into the bonfire...
      and of course, the smoke was choking,
and the fire-brigade came and extinguished
the fire.
    fun times.
JSK  Apr 2014
Pyrotechnics
JSK Apr 2014
This is the end

There is no coming back this time

I set fire to the bridge

You so carefully walked on before

It went up in flames

And I let it happen

I thought that's what I wanted

That in the end

It was better for both of us

But now

All I want is to come

Crashing

Barreling

Sprinting across

The swinging rope bridge

Into your heart

Arms

And mind

But I can't go back now

Because flames destroy

I wish I wasn't such  pyromaniac

Playing around with fire

And your heart
K Balachandran Feb 2015
Melancholic pale moon, lovelorn shy ******,
kept on peeping from her corner of the sky,
through the window we left deliberately open
knowing her curiosity, as detained ever, to be solitary.
Let her find out that we both didn't sleep
or remain quiet , not a moment, all night,
as the night sky responded vehemently
in celestial pyrotechnics to our delighted squeals.
K Balachandran Sep 2014
See, the smile on the stone face
of the mountain, once so cold, stoic
it drives home the meaning of change
brought about by erosion of ages past,

molten paste slowly sediments,
decides to be various kind of rocks
on it's path being metamorphic
is just one of it's pranks,

volcanoes in ******* frenzy erupt,
display the pyrotechnics of creation
in it's ******  urge a deep sea stream
breaks tectonic plates,makes new continents

mountains that hold their heads high,
are brought down by landslides, floods
avalanches or sudden cloudbursts

stars script secret messages across galaxies
the meanings will never be deciphered
in spite of the astonishing research
astrophysics can put together and
the thirst for knowledge of mankind

Beauty, my muse, lovely concert I adore,
I see you in animals, birds and fish
that undergo mutation and become different,
ocean currents, seasons,shower of stardust,
most of all in music, that activates the hidden signals,
that come beyond birth and death,embedded within oneself

Can you cite one reason for writing biography
of any one, whoever it may be, in this planet?
RyanMJenkins Feb 2017
Words. Work.
Getting old. ***** shirt.  
Exhaustion remains after washing away stains from dirt.  
Lower back hurts,
..but this mindstate is not where I'll stay.  
Meaningless pay spending my hours when I just want to create and play.  
Heavy body, cat nap after embers hit the ashtray.  Astral stray.  
The most nutritious are sometimes the first to decay.  
Get up just to lay.  
Easy to see darkness when there's no heart in the frame..  

So I'll adjust how I see, and remember to breathe,
because all of life comes to us with ease.  
Gonna physically release just to come back and share my dream
Yes yes, nothing less.  
Do what you love
is all I can confess.  
Limited time, I see that we're blessed
Hope to make the most of mine,
before in peace we rest

Death sentence. Moral Repentance.
In the age of remembrance blinded by pyrotechnics.  
Embody the calisthenics and honor further than aesthetics.  
Depths beyond measurement kissing anti-venom lips.  
Tethered to the weather within our steady blissful trips.  
The clock can tick all it wants but the hands are losing their grip.  Proving nothing to be more beautiful than this present-tense eclipse
Intuition is our intangible compass
Creating a compassionate instance that can't be diminished
I am hear forever to play with the trinkets and parade those that listen
Love is all encompassing, not just a mission
Thoughts come to fruition
Extending what you envision
The Synapse fires like a piston
What you've done indicates your current position.  
Think now my friend.
 You are the sun shining at the podium speaking at the perceived end.  
You are the sum dictating everything yet to come.  
Thank you for praising the vibration connected to one.  
Take a deep breath, smile, and have fun.  
This strong web we've achieved can never be unspun.
Reflect your true self and know we've only just begun~
Eulalie Feb 2014
I keep trying to convince myself that I’ve mustered enough strength to stand up, take a breath, and move the **** on with my life,
content and resolute in knowing that you can’t be a part of it any longer;
I keep trying to convince myself that it was all a bad
(and exquisitely decadent)
dream, that none of it actually happened, that you were precisely those last terrible words, and nothing else;
I keep trying to convince myself that I never loved you,
that I do not still love you…
And yet all the while I can’t muster enough strength to stand up at all;
I balance and wobble on shaky stilts for a brief bit of time, sure, distract myself with “living my life” and “letting you go” and
finding peace amongst the heartbreak, but I am too clumsy to keep abreast for long—
the end of my shoes clip and snag onto memories of sweet nothings, and
I fall all over again as if it were for the first time;
I fall and hit the ground with a smitten, dazed smack of my head to the pavement,
and at first I’m numbed with pleasantries, with the tender memories and harmonies that used to put me to sleep with a smile so stupid it wouldn’t wipe away,
but then the stars clear
and I’m trying to bite back the smarting with fallacies over my decidedly pragmatic indifference, and in my not-yet-pained stupor,
I can almost breathe a mechanical sigh—
can almost get swallowed up by sheer lack of sensation—
and extract a salvation out of my own emotional etherization and find satisfaction amongst the numbness…
I can almost move on if I don’t feel at all…
But I don’t have any reserves of Novocain or morphine, and after I’ve fallen,
the pain always returns.
I keep trying to convince myself that what you told me was true,
that you weren’t ever real,
that you weren’t ever real,
but that contemplation is destroyed the minute it enters the recesses of my darkened cognizance, and I can never revere over a single ******* moment of my day without
something of you
making its unsolicited entrance;
you were always real.
I don’t know;
I just want something positive to come of us, still;
I still hope all the while we are silent; I still yearn all the while we stay distant—
“independent”;
you still are the victim of my fantasies all the while within my head I lament,
praying that I’ll find contentment,
and that for a small while you are only just taking rent
elsewhere, and will soon miss me enough to say that leaving me is never
what you meant of it…
Call me excessively self-indulgent and masochistic for all the
emotional ballistics and disconsolate pyrotechnics
but I’m convinced that the last five months can be validated with a
simple romantic fix of all of this:
for you and I were too explosive not to make sense;
there’s too much that’s been felt,
too much harboring under my doting starry-eyed belt,
too much over which you’ve made me melt.
All I’m asking for is your help.
I surely didn’t imagine you,
I didn’t imagine that warmth that so affectionately looms,
didn’t imagine the luminescence of the moon,
didn’t imagine the connection between us two…
I suppose what it is that I’ve been trying to say, what all along I’ve attempted to convey,
is that I miss you:
Please come back to me, Mr. Blue…
I really ******* miss you.
This is more of a prose, but it wreaks of intensity and desperation and pathetic honesty. Eh.

— The End —