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Andrew Rueter Oct 2017
You act callously crude
Like Cronenberg's brood
You keep the body horror
In the naughty drawer
I feel my body's poorer
So you convince me I'm rich
Then treat me like an itch
And scratch
To detach

You invited me to your chateau
Then left me on this plateau
For my beating heart exploded from my chest
Once I foolishly entered your nasty nest
There I lay
As immobile prey
My body was infected
By your touch
And my mind dissected
Way too much

You passionately present me with body horror
I really resent you for being a shoddy sawyer
Cutting me down but not completely
Your lackluster love travels obliquely
Dislocating my horrified heart
My rib cage begins to part
As my mangled love
Escapes with my blood
My fingers are breaking
Trying to carry the relationship
Happiness I'm faking
When you crack your elation whip

When I'm powerless to the *****
I become showerless in a hurry
And my skin starts to rot
While I lie on your cold cot
You're my unforgiving cop
And the horrors never stop
Trevor Gates Apr 2013
Good evening

And welcome to tonight’s decadent performance

Curtains…

Out there
Some where
Is the one.

The one person that matters
The one person that will make everything different
I can see her now
But you think I’m seeing a specific person with particular physical features.

You’re wrong

I see a white light
A being floating above all else

She is a soul before the human
She is everything before I know what everything is

Her eyes caress me with shear benevolence
Her voice soothes the restless and weary
Her touch calms my frantic heart and all that ails me

Where is this fulfilling wonderment of a person?
Is she at the end of a life journey?
That only I need to take the first step?

Maybe a distant land coated in dunes of sand
Below the ocean of the sky.

Or

In the cozy city apartment
Reading the stories of poetic urban decay
And fantasy encounters.
The corridors of her minds’ catacombs
The labyrinth of her dreams and unspoken desires
Fleeting glimpses of rich suspension
Over vast beds of Baghdad silk.

Hazel ember eyes



Listen

Yes can you hear that?

In our silence, a lone tone can be heard; felt through us.

We are all partnered with an instrument.  
This instrument plays the lone pitch of
Mine would be a number of instruments

A soft bow of a cello

A light note off a piano

The soft, mellow strum of a nylon guitar

The tearful violin

The noble French horn

The dreamy orchestral harp

The rise of a heavenly choir  

The thump of a bass

Ave Maria

Sonata Allegro

Tearful adagio

Glistening swells of rippling arpeggios over transcendent phrases
Eternal crescendos scaling across plains of astral enchantments
Our absolution through forgiving sounds
Eclipsing tones that speak the whispers of angels
They are here
Trying to relieve us of daily anguish and clockwork regrets
But
You
Many of you
Ignore these simple phrases
Through dismal conversations
And
Uncultured prejudice
Manipulated through shallow ignorance
The music that is neglected begins to wilt
Diminish
In more ways than one.

Stop it…

It hurts them
The notes of life
Go away from the norm
Derive from what is socially accepted
Find that one musician
That one composer
That one singer
That no one listens to

No one

Just you

Make their music, your music.
Cater to that personal bond
Imagine the film of your life
Score to this wonderful
Solidarity

Please

This is for you

Not me.

Because I love you.

This is dedicated to:  Gustavo Santaolalla, Geinoh Yamashirogumi, Christopher Nolan, Scarlett Johansen, Rodrigo y Gabriela, Jon Gomm, The Elephant man, Bach, David Lynch,  Lisa Gerrard, Hanz Zimmer, Bob Marley, Trevor Jones, David Cronenberg, William Peter Blatty, Clint Mansell, Chef Ramsey, Vanessa Mae, Nosferatu, Sisters of Mercy, black Coffee, mouse pads, The Diving bell and the butterfly, The catcher and the Rhye, The Last of the Mohicans, Isabel Bayrakdarian, Rene Flemming, Sarah Brightman and Natalie Gray.

May you return if fate allows it to be.
Sayer Apr 2014
goodbye morning (12)
cups on the right,
knock one over again
alive
pick it up (no one noticed)
fill it with coffee which I don't drink
watch some ****** movie on TV
and pretend to punch through the screen

think of it,
happiness
haven't been this happy in awhile
like it or not
smile on your face
on little day
happy, happy, happy
the ****** movie still plays
got nothing else to do
fling the coffee at the screen
the TV dies
think of you and go up to it
I go through it like in Videodrome
or something like that

Thanks, Cronenberg
I'm expendable
I can't say I do that well at spoken improv poetry
Auroleus Jun 2016
Two dreams today bout the end of the world.
Apocalyptic and cryptic, like Hell had unfurled.
The first was more normal, yet veiled in dread.
Emptied out houses; no sign of the dead.
Something wicked most certainly this way did come.
Some plague or disease from which we could not run.

Dream number one allowed me to prepare
For the horror of the second, but what I found there...

Cronenberg ******, agony, bliss,
So juxtaposed like a rose in some ****.
Mutated creatures, ****** red eyes,
Things you've not seen but by nature despise.
You'd freeze in your skin just from hearing their cries,
Then all of the hope that's inside of you dies.
But I found a car... drove to place,
Woke up with sticky **** all on my face
=)
Zee Jan 2020
I'm destabilized
and the need to reinvent myself
every night
is taking a toll.
I'm more than a little bit lost
and I would give anything
for a soft breast to rest my head
and call home.
I'm a crisis
all calm and cool
dressed like your dad after school,
all good intentions
bad etiquette.
Cronenberg on the inside,
a walking wurm when reversed
like a Yuzna flick
with better acting
but just as much soft-core ****.
My mind and soul
are bigger than this room
but its walls seem so familiar
as they suffocate me
until I am nothing more
than the sound of a keyboard.
Get with me
and I'll **** you dry
until I'm bored of your very existence.
Just witness my actions
and tell me I'm not a *****,
a liar, or the enemy of good intention.
These verses are destablized
as evident from their lack of target,
since already there's been like four of you.
Crawling on your knees,
whispering please,
we're all tied tongues
and bitten lips.
Baby, life's got a lisp
and he's been rocking it,
paying out of pocket
while stacking the deck
against us.
Cohesion is a bore,
a sloppy *****,
only functioning to keep us
whole.
Let go
of your ego
and see what you become
when there's no more limits
just live it,
a futile existence
isn't even close to the limit,
so don't you ever quit on me,
claim life is a disease,
when the only thing
that's holding you back
is staring in the mirror.

— The End —