Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
howard brace Sep 2012
He'd been conceived in Flamborough, so his little sister assured him some eleven summers ago, which was a tad hard for Rocky to swallow, she was a whole eighteen months his junior and then some... and at that age, well... what did she know, she was only a kid, "on this very rock" River insisted, kicking her heels in delight, "next to this very rock pool" they were both sitting beside, "one sunny afternoon eleven years ago..." and that was how he came by the name of Rocky... she taunted as the rest of the colourful story unfolded... and that she had it all on the best possible authority... although the more she thought about it, had she meant concealed... she wasn't quite sure now, it was all so very confusing at her tender age but thought it sounded close enough not to matter too much and that she would just wait and see which way the wind blew.
        
     It was conceivably an ill wind that blew no one any good that day, especially if you were a boy and just happened to be sat by a rock pool next to your little sister...  Having just taken a well earned drink from a neighbouring rock pool, Sockeye the floppiest Springer Spaniel this side of the Pecos decided that he was going to dig a hole and that he would be digging it deep, then changed his mind mid-dig and decided to have a more down to earth back scratching wriggle instead... then promptly flopped over and slid into the hole... life was sweet.  Now covered from nose to tail with every species of deceased shore life usually found frequenting the high water mark Sockeye, in a blinding flash of canine inspiration judged it would be in everyone's best interest were he to have a really good shakedown which always appeared to go down well on these occasions... and give everyone a good peppering, just so they could see exactly what they'd been missing all their lives.  

     "A rock of all places, for goodness sakes..." and what's more, it was this rock, "Yuk..." he jumped up and wiped his palms on the back of his jeans in disgust, then onto his tee-shirt, then sat back down again and began exploring his left nostril in quiet contemplation before finally jambing his hands back into his pockets... what in Heaven's name had his parents been thinking of..? what on earth was his little sister talking about..? and more to the point, what in fact did conceived mean..?  these were the questions that were uppermost in Rocky's mind as he poked an exploratory stick into the rock pool...  a baby crab marooned by the tide scampered sideways beneath a large pebble and stuck one beady eye out at him... Rocky's sister, seemingly in a world of her own, much like the baby crab sat on the edge of the noteworthy rock kicking her heels, an innocent smile curled the corners of her mouth as she quietly hummed a little song of tuneful bliss to herself and considered what further mischief she could possibly pass her brother's way.

     Rocky tossed a piece of driftwood over his sisters shoulder at a nearby flock of seagulls, squabbling over what appeared to be a discarded bag of fish and chips... Sockeye, simply knowing that his little master wanted to play a game of fetch gambolled after the stick, his ears flying courageously in the still Summer air and burst, amid a melee of feathers into their midst, only to romp back moments later, the stick all but forgotten in the excitement but now proudly sporting the derelict bag of leftovers and the odd splash of guano, his tail lolloping magnificently from side to side... and for the moment at least, leaving the fratching seagulls wheeling noisily overhead and to go about their daily business without further interruption... as for Sockeye, it had been a no contest situation.

     After fourteen years of valiant endeavour his father... Red, so named for his vivid shock of wiry hair, was still engaged in man's eternal struggle to win his significant other half's approbation with the manful art of deck-chair assembly, beach barbeque and other significant gentlemanly pursuits, all while strutting his manly stuff, sporting top of the range beach wear in accordance with the social etiquette of the previous decade... his masculine paunch slumping gallantly atop his waistband...  

     After the same fourteen terms of domestic servitude and the same thirteen identically overlooked anniversary cards a certain someone had no intention of allowing another certain someone to forget so much as one of them... his better half, so she insisted would ride rough shod, administering her own brand of justice at every given opportunity, in much the same way you'd brandish a royal-flush on poker night... or better still, a loaded revolver... and that she personally carried the burden of every ill-fated card that Lady Luck had dealt strung about her neck like Adam's original sin on Judgement Day.  

     Red much preferred the shorter, more condensed name of Rock for his son, rather than the longer more protracted Rocky, as he struggled with the wood and canvas lounger badly trapping the mound of his thumb in the process, "Aaargh...!!!" plunging his throbbing hand deep into the cold, soothing rock-pool "aaah...!!!"   Still marooned by the tide, the baby crab stood poised and ready for action as it considered giving this latest intrusion a good offensive nip, then hang on spitefully as it gave Red the final withering once over with the same baleful eye it had successfully used earlier.

     Acknowledging her husbands misfortune with a perfunctory grunt as she rummaged in her beach-bag for the thermos, she refused to be drawn in where thumbs were concerned right now, after all with his DNA sequencing she was convinced he could probably grow a new one within the month... whilst Tina, well... she was just plain worn-out... but still rejoiced in telling anyone who cared to lend a sympathetic ear in her direction... and who in turn was more than happy to listen to the woes of others and went somewhere along the lines of... 'and had she heard any more of poor Mrs Dorey's lingering martyrdom recently..? you know, the downtrodden lady who lives in the next street but one... and how they would all miss her when she was gone... and how she couldn't wait...' and as rumour had it, neither could her husband...

      Feigning to be otherwise engaged, Tina... as her husband, now blowing frantically on his mangled thumb, stumbled backwards over the half erected lounger and with a spine jarring "Ooomph...!!!" landed squarely in Sockeye's subsiding earthworks... professed total disassociation with the entire fiasco as she plunged her nose even deeper into the overdue library book she'd purposely brought on holiday for just such an occasion, making it perfectly clear that she was a tourist and furthermore, planned to stick with the same itinerary once they returned home... and that while she was here, she did not under any circumstances wish to be disturbed, the notice was clearly displayed hanging from the door handle... but if anyone should, then whoever it was did so at their own peril... and she was keeping score... although a mangled thumb she luxuriated, with the same roguish smile curling the corners of her mouth as the one normally found playing around her daughter's... was equally as heart warming.

      All Tina wanted was one week of uninterrupted peace and quiet in Flamborough, preferably with a certain someone out from under her feet then spend what might pass for several undisturbed hours sitting quietly by the rock pool comparing notes on eye makeup and the feminine merits of pedicure with the little crab who, still marooned by the tide was now sat busily knitting four pairs of matching leg warmers in the cool, still water but that was only if that certain someone... a shrill  "AAaargh...!!!" somewhat more desperate than the first, ****** itself upon the as yet unaggressive afternoon as it gyrated across the warm Jurrasic rock and recoiled out to sea... "now where was I", twisting her book uppermost "oh yes..! someone was going to pay..." only now it was going to be sooner rather than later, but only if that certain someone didn't finish the seating arrangements before the Sun disappeared and drift into some backstreet tea-room before all the lemon cheesecake sold out, or was that she reflected, simply too much to ask.

     It was his Surname that Rock found so objectionable, or it had been right up until his little sister's enlightening disclosure, now it was both names Rocky disliked, it would have been far kinder had Rock Salmon been sandwiched between sliced bread and given to Sockeye... who's solemn duty, from the first mouthful to the very last, was to gaze up beseechingly from beneath the kitchen table  and devour anything that passed his way, even the postman had to be quick about his business or have his arm follow the mail through the letter box... then Sockeye would just smack his lips and help himself to seconds.  

     All Rocky's mum had thought about for the last fourteen years was seconds... every last solitary one of them since she'd suffered with an infection of matrimonial neurosis which had deprived her of common sense and her maiden name, from Chovey to that of Salmon and how with hindsight she should have taken an Aspirin instead, wedlock she asserted was everything the name claimed to be and was without doubt the worst move she'd ever made... and what's more was seen as a bad move in whoever's wedding album you just happened to be paying your condolences to.

     Rocky would never be so fortunate on that score, unlike his sister he was stuck with Salmon for good, his grandma-Ann by all accounts had been dead set against the union from word Go and saw his father as someone who would always be out of his depth in whatever rock pool he found himself in, swimming against the tide as it were, rather than going with the flow... and it appeared that Rocky, almost eleven years into a life sentence, was about to flounder in the same murky undertow as the rest of the Salmon family... only he couldn't swim.

     "There"! her husband exclaimed "all finished... better late than never eh', who fancies trying it"? his wife luxuriated over the words 'better late' and wondered whether her new earrings, her latest acquisition would complement formal mourning attire.  Red dusted off the palms of his hands with the certain knowledge of a job well done and cautiously took one step back, looking with justifiable pride at the outcome of his manly exertions of the last two hours, this was what holidays were all about he declared, one man pitted against insurmountable odds...  His wife meanwhile was getting to grips with more odds of her own than you could safely expect to shake a stick at... her husband being one of them.  

     Having gathered her offspring with the promise of verbal earache if they didn't... and finished packing the beach-bag, Tina finally located Sockeye peering out from the shade of an adjacent rock, wisps of feathers poked tellingly from the corners of his mouth, his tail beating mischievously on the shingle decided in one further blaze of canine brainstorming, as Tina attempted to slip his collar on that a game of tag would just about round the day off nicely... Tina then devoted the next ten minutes chasing him amid unrestrained salvo's of cheering from the rest of the family... then bid goodbye to the little crab who, still marooned by the tide waved a friendly pincer in return... and trusted that she wouldn't have too long to wait for the next rising tide back home, then she slid off the rock with a corrosive... "the deck-chair attendant would have shown you" she snapped "and don't forget the deposit when you take them back" then double checking that she landed squarely on his foot she marched past, her floral sun hat jammed resolutely on her head at what she considered a jaunty angle with her equally jaunty, angular children scrambling in hot pursuit, back in the direction of their lodgings.  

     "Woof "..? said a bewildered Sockeye, bringing everyone to an abrupt halt... and with paws the size of place-mats, he wasn't going anywhere he didn't want to... he hunkered down with a look of hurtful accusation on his face, "oh yes you are my lad"! said his mistress "I've met your sort before" and knew exactly where to place the toe of her dainty size-5 as Sockeye, digging his heals in even further created swathes of canine furrows up the beach, leaving her husband the unwitting holder and in sole possession of the overlooked guest-house keys... and somewhat resigned to clean up his own masculinity and dismantle the recently assembled, now redundant deck-chairs by himself... as for Tina, well... she'd had quite enough excitement for one day thank you very much.

     Morning register was always the worst he thought, as they trooped back along the shingle beach, Rocky making surprisingly good furrows of his own... but the rest of the class loved it and saw it as the highlight of each day... Rocky's form teacher, despite showing a brave face was always hard pressed to avoid bursting into hysterics every time she worked her way down the register to the letter 'S' and would attempt to bypass it altogether, jumping from 'R' to 'T' and just prayed that no one else had noticed, but it hadn't taken the class very long to point out her oversight and... "please Miss" they'd all chant "we haven't had Salmon all week" and while the rest of the class were having convulsive fits, Rocky would elbow the lad sat at the next desk in the ribs... and promptly get one hundred lines for his trouble... thank goodness it was school holidays.  Why couldn't they have been given respectable names like Seymour Legge, Rock wondered, who sat over by the window or perhaps the teachers pet, Anna Prentice or even, Robyn Banks at a pinch, but definitely not what they'd been given and certainly not Salmon, they were the most hilarious names he could imagine and if someone was looking down on them right now he thought... then they had a very unique sense of humour indeed and Rock said so... "why" his little sister asked sweetly, "what's wrong with River Salmon".

                                                      ­                         ...   ...   ...*

a work in progress*                                                        ­                                                              240­6
Anya Oct 2018
It's the start of the school
year and everyone's
milling about
socializing

Water particles
Milling about
forming
and breaking
hydrogen bonds

There's a group of
new kids,
awkwardly standing
off to the side

A large crystal
of salt
is dumped among
the
water

Some of the old kids
start milling
over pulling
new kids
into
their friend
groups

The water starts
bonding with
individual
ions of salt
positive with negative
negative with positive
pulling them
away
to form
bonds

Eventually all the
new kids are
incorporated into
friend groups

The lattice of salt
is broken apart
...
And all the individual ions
are surrounded
by
new
friends
Known as H2O
If you find quirky analogies to science interesting check out my collection "science poems".
Mya Dec 2016
Learning the art of disassociation is easy!
Anyone can do it
Begin by being the c**t you are
Good
Now look one of your friends in the eye
No, not that one. Make it a best friend.
Hold their heart in your hand
Shove it in the ground at their feet
Walk awa-
Oh, you're already going?
Wow, looks like you've done this before
Finally you've mastered the art of disassociation
Love  Nov 2016
Disassociation
Love Nov 2016
"God. You're so ugly without your makeup. You know you really shouldn't show your face in public. You don't want to end up on that People of Walmart website."

Yeah I know.

"No seriously. You look like you've been hit by a bus."

Nope. Not hit by a bus. Just your ****** comments.

"You know they say sarcasm is just a deflection of an internal struggle, it's an underling issue to something bigger. Maybe you're going crazy."

I'm not going crazy. I'm getting my **** together. I'm in college now.

"Yeah, sure."

No. I wake up at a reasonable hour everyday. I take a shower and do my hair and make up. I do my homework and I make good grades. How can I be crazy when I'm getting my **** together. I have my **** together!

"Look at your room."

What about it?

"It's a mess."

So what?

"It's a mess. Just like you are. You are a mess."

I am not.

"You can shut the door and pretend it doesn't exist. Just like you're doing with that mask you put on every morning. Beyond these walls you're a fake. But behind them, they show who you truly are."

And what's that?

"That you're crazy and chaos. Your room represents what's on the inside. You're falling apart."

I am not crazy.

"Not crazy? As if. You've just been talking to your reflection for the past 10 minutes. Just like you have every day for the past four years. Just wait sweetie, one day I'll come out and play."
C Davis Jan 2015
As awareness rescinds, (pulls back like the tide)
The screaming grows louder.
(Attention seeker, like a child).
As feet are lifted (atop hardwood
over concrete over bones)
Further from the earth we grow
(And feel.)
How can you hear them? Them, the beasts that protect life, over
All the static ringing electric currents
Flashing lights
?
Still, the water trickles.
(your Sun, still will he rise)
Whily heavy eyelids divert eyes.

Tantrum habits cry dry tears (those who've not been shaken to their core),
Beg for excess shave down years (this is not what it's all for)

Harvest season for the poor
Reaps more than plenty score for score.

Comfort now lies in divisions, don't cross my line! Come, clean my floor!
Up-nose scoffs toward open doors
(You're still welcome forevermore

Earth is not sorry for
Her mess.
You should  
Be sorry for all of yours).




And the world
The world, it spins.
Tonight's tag team match:

Modern Society and Materialism VS. Universal Love and Mother Earth!

Who will come crumbling to destruction first? Tune in at 8pm Eastern this Doomsday to find out.
Rafael Melendez Jun 2017
I met an amazing girl, and yet again I'm terrified. The apathy looms, and scratches at my head, while I wonder if she will leave me. I can feel the disassociation laying next to me in my bed, telling me to go back to sleep.

I don't want to hold her back. I don't want to be her shadow.
I want be her inspiration, her light. Please, let it be.
Please, don't let her leave me.
Overwhelmed May 2013
maybe it’s a nervous breakdown
I am twitching a lot
moving my feet and hands
in alternate patterns constantly
and I can’t seem to think
everything sounds like static
so maybe it’s my body finally shutting down
slowly tearing down the whole show
letting people see how it really is
and I can’t figure out why
but something is definitely happening
and I’m sitting here, watching myself,
seeing all that I am come apart at the seams
letting loose what little I have within me
so that it can flutter off
into the dark and rainy
night
EgoFeeder May 2013
Good day my friends and Salut to you!
Time to play herald and this is my cue
So, here comes my woe in a rhythmic fashion;
as this was written in the era of post-passion

And for the curious readers who know not of I
Seemless and keen to write I will try
You need not comprehend all that is meant;
yet, for a moment or less your time will be spent

Let me begin with a synopsis of my vision
It was far from forgiving and was lost in decision
I could never be quite sure of the light or dark;
For in the absent and present my sense would embark

Continually being coated with an artificial Gleam;
Rendering my wakefulness as a fragile like dream
Which in-turn lit the path to my lack of importance;
Painting the illustrated guise for my willful ignorance

And, The descension of unstable ethics I had once grasped
I new inevitably would meet their eventual relapse
Into what I predominately labeled as a Karmic curse
A constant role disassociation fixed in reverse

If that indefinite definition didn't tickle your fancy
Then maybe a second look will decipher real from fantasy?
Or rather not and maybe so; but atleast I try...
Fine! I'll move past this rant and attempt not to pry

I must confess that the strain of guilt was an essential tool;
For supressing the need to an end that wasn't simple to fool
Although, as the days came to more and the weeks into age;
I could barely relate to anything that I had inked onto page

The mind I had always and sincerely held in such awry regard;
Stood to spoilate my sorrow and to watch as my guard
To forget all that had ignited the suspensful act of survival
Forming the catalyst for this decrepit rebirth of revival

What I have just stated is immersed in the human condition;
Can you not remember the awakening of your own re-invention?
I suppose for some it may be subtle and largely unnoticed,
but to me and several others it isn't so easily dismissed

For I had not fully acknowledged the diversity of duality;
Until that morning when I had lost my will for frivolity
Every pleasure of my past rotted out from the inside
Revealing the inner workings of what I falsely wore as pride

I finally came to terms with what had substituted as my mask;
discovering that the pursuit for belonging is such a hopeless task
Like searching for a lover in the midst of a masquerade;
As the sunset fades our flaws are free to roam from the shade

To most it might seem as if I'm entirely self-centered
and perhaps the art of indulgence I may have mastered
yet, If you're putting my concern for your well being into question;
Then just maybe we've stumbled across a universal Contradiction?
Sometimes when I rise out of the nebulosity of my ego, I can see  dead leaves on the ground.
Above I feel formless, Uncrippled by any  precursing contingencies.
Disturbances are nullified by the rising and falling of my breath.
I am no longer a keeper of anything.
I feel as I've been left to float inside a vacuum that requires the complete disassociation from anything that I have ever known.
Everything here is gentle, && welcomed.
vibrant and healing.
perplexing to those that aren't ready to let go, salvation for the many who are.
I'm getting derealization twenty-four/seven;
Unreality has made alterations
unto my perception.

Donnie Darko awoke in bewildered displacement,
I too arose to this disconcerting amazement.
Found myself lying on green grass
at a golf course twisted by Alice In Wonderland.
Checkered tiles black-and-white
and pine trees swaying in the half-light
.
Familiar faces put me at ease, an acid blotter
got emptied.
Got dosed in my dreams. Got on my knees.
Was tripping in my sleep.
What would it mean for when I woke up?

This dream didn't stop.
I woke up but my mind did not.
Reality wasn't enough.
Disassociation followed me home.

I woke up
but kept dreaming. The walls felt soft
and the colors were peeling.
I have felt this before,
Felt the days double over;
My mind lucid,
Fatigued no more
.
Inception of an entheogen.
Scott Horror Dec 2015
I'm a million different people
Each day
Sweet to bitter
Maniac to recluse
Dead to undying
But the destruction is always
There
With me wherever I go
So I went somewhere new

Cut off my hands
Sever my spine
So I don't act on my
Impulses toNight

The call of the void
The violent possibilities to violet
Situations, like

The lights of the
Night box
And I'm dancing
Always dancing
Dancing
And I took the money
And I kissed a stranger
And cheated on the game
I drank something strange
The spider on my wrist
Has multiplied

Throw it
What?
Fall down
Why?
dO It

Is this really happening?

I'm drowning in my stream of consciousness
There is
gliTch
In my system

And the lights are more purple
Than they have ever been
And my Instincts
Tell me to run

But the man in black
Calls to me
And he is insatiable

So I went to him
And he drank me dry
And we danced together
And I am undying
With a stranger

Is this really happening?

My skin isn't mine
The music made me deaf
But I'm still dancing
And I'm still craving

Stranger than I have ever been
Because I am no longer

aLive
lauren  Jul 2018
disassociation
lauren Jul 2018
young love, have you forgotten to remember me? i am miles away from happiness and still dreaming of your lips. the cigarette taste, hands wandering the soft curves of my skin. but it seems that i’m alone again, and you want her instead.
ugh

— The End —