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Freddy S Zalta Nov 2014
There is this pinhole of light in the distance, I can see it in the dark, through the ghosts of memories, soldiers of love and hatred, fantasy and nightmares - caring and indifference...all my hope seems lost until that pinhole of light in the distance.
In the midnight when the sky has no moon, the street lamps flicker and crickets sing me their tunes - I feel lost and alone - with no hope and no song...
Darkness like quicksand pulling away my existence - then I see the pinhole of light in the distance.
Sunrise and it still feels cold and dark - I remember her song and I remember her spark. She could set me on fire in just an instant. Now I lay alone searching for that pinhole of light in the distance.
Can you hear me whispering songs as I lay frozen here?
Tell me are you also alone or is somebody there?
The rain is pouring as the sun shines bright - I crawl through the day - I run from the night. Spend hours and days searching for that pinhole of light.
That pinhole of light that will lead me through this darkness - through this wilderness filled with unfinished songs, stories and lives...
I've woken
alone & crushed
By the evil around me
In unfamiliar lands
I've fallen
In deep dreams of despair
Where no one
Was reaching for my hand
Where I could not stand
I have lost
Sqaundered & regretted
But no more
I am found
Not by those who love me
Not by those who don't
i have found me
I had to stop seeing
The darkness first
I had to concentrate
With everything in me
To find the light
I created
I've had to run the race with demons
To win me back
From the despair
And child did it want me
It tried to keep me
With words
Promises of no pain
the despair snatchedme
With lies that I better right there
It promised me an ending
To the evils placed upon myself
Despair lied.
All its promises
Were only to entice me
To suffer more
it was loves lil light
That pinhole peeked thru
Loves light spied in mine eye
Even when it closed with tears
Thru it love shined
And when I
Raised my head
From the evil
That had my grasp
Thru loves light
Spread over me
Lifted me thru the despair
Washed away
The tar the evils
Spattered me with
Thru such very small words
I heard them
In my deafness screaming
"I need her life, to continue on,
I need you to shine"
Thru loves lil light
That shined
Pinhole in mine eye
I saw the tiny hand
That pushed thru the despair
As if it were only air
Holding me there
And when loves hand
Touched me
I felt all the people
I lost
And the ones still out there
Then loves hand
Touched my face
And reminded me of my own
Beauty that the world
Was desperate for me to share
I remember this time in my life
The blood on the floors
Empty pill bottles scattered
The tears of pain
And the screams
Oh the screams
I remember them clear
I tremble even now
From that time
I fear its grasp every second
Mostly because I dont know
Exactly how it got
a hold of me
Love has no longer
Let me be scared
Love has brought me thru
To you
To share
Loves pinhole of light
To shine in your eye
To make you aware
I'm desperately holding
out mine hand
Thru your despair
Thru your pain
Thru your loss
Thru love saving me
I did not know then
Thru love I was brought
To reach Thru to you
What saved me
I love and I care...

"AGoddessOriginal"
6-6-2011
Opaque
a darkness, dampness
refreshing air

silence...
...pinhole on horizon;
in brilliant blue.

Bright, brighter,
brighter still
and day.
Jonathan Surname Aug 2018
Thread knuckles into notches of your spine,
you were mine.
Held down as carotid fought hard,
to keep open your eye.
Staring vivid as clouds overtook.
I can taste you through your musk,
hear the quivering in your thigh.

Stomach acids crawled into your nose,
and petals bloom. Belly aflame,
throat bleat with each beat.
As vision tunneled from expanse
to pinhole spindle of our room.
Bared teeth like a wild animal,
eyes wide with excitement.

If you could breathe a word your smile soon'd fade.
Porcelain comtesse *** undress with maroon'd face.
Jonathan Witte May 2017
Our house is a black box.
We drape every window

but one, a pinhole
to capture the sun.

At night our eyes go dark as ink.
Our memories marbleize at
the edge of the bedroom.

Come morning,
we are nothing

but inverted images
fed by shared light.

You tell me to smile
and I braid your hair.

Upstairs, the children
develop like ghosts.

I put on another record
and the dark disc spins,

its needle lulled
into grooves the way
you are lulled into me.

We could almost dance together,
but the couple at the window

will not move until
we come into focus.
Kam Yuks Jun 2013
Today is governed by the cyclical nature of science and the god that has been created mythically as an axis point to explain our existence.

To what end do we find separation from  a reality formed from consciousness?

The over-mind - what has also been referred to as a god-conscience, spans the digits of numerical structure and maintains an order that is beyond our limited comprehension. Division then, is not separation; it is a change that alters what is divided. Everything falls within our finite infinity - knowledge and the unknown - our minds and its thoughts.

The inhabited earth is a manifestation of thought vibrating throughout the cosmos. Star clusters are fragmented thoughts that gather and gradually grow closer until an idea emerges from the detritus left by the explosion.

Each atom is made up of multiverses that are made up of more atoms.
Zach Gomes Feb 2010
I have grown used to
or at least numb to this way of living.
The rain drips through the ivy above,
hitting against the grey planks.
No water lands on my skin;
I am sprawled across the parallel lines of planks in the wooden floor.

I call this the ‘sun grotto’
because of the sundial,
now dark with rainwater,
standing in the circular clearing in the hedges
in front of the entrance to my gazebo.

Today might be a day in October.  And,
since the first drop fell,
I’ve been waiting under the grotto
for what feels like hours—
I haven’t been into the maze at all today;
the darkness on the hedges mirrors
the shadows that line the clouds.

I see no point in moving
from the grotto today, and while I wait for the rain
to pass, I remember
my first day here, a few summers ago—

The humidity at noon under
a liquid sun,
a girl in a rose-colored dress,
our August trip to the hedge maze in the neighboring county,
the laugh she gave as she trotted away:
“let’s get lost in the maze—
come and get me!”
the last I heard of her,
and a glimpse of red cloth rounding the edge
of a wall in the maze,
the last I saw.

We had felt so much excitement
and fear
pressing further through the winding paths
decorated here and there with
fountains, gardens,
idyllic cherub statues,
and the grottoes
which I now use as sleeping places
and—like today—
as cover from the rain
which pours here so often.

The downpour recedes
allowing me at least the chance to walk
through the maze to one of
the tulip gardens.

Not today of course,
but there are days when I hear
the soft laughter of children, friends, and lovers
echo somewhere in the maze—only
a few lanes of manicured green separating me
from them.  Days like those
are difficult to bear.

One day, not too many weeks ago,
I heard those sounds and I smiled;
but it came as a shock to hear
the patter of a pair of running feet, so clearly just around
the clean-cut corner of the hedge I was using for shade.
It was the first—the only—time I had heard a sound in the maze
this close, close enough to see and touch—
through the pinhole gaps in the foliage-wall
I saw a burst of color, like clothing.
I shot around the corner, I glimpsed the flicker
of pale red cloth flagging
behind the form that had slid
into another path through the maze.

The chase had failed
well before I had taken my first wild steps,
hitting the well-tread path hard
with desperate feet.  I yelled like a drunkard.
Later, I noticed the cuts on my fingers and neck,
sliced into the skin as I flung myself through
one wall of green and skid against the next.

Today’s shower is completely over.
I walk myself through the maze, and
avoid the shallow lakes that have formed
in the dips
in the paths, beaten firm by thousands of trampling feet.
Under the sparse autumn light
I collect flowers from one of the many small squares of garden
which I have come to know so well.
With a clump of black
and white tulips in my hands,
I look for a place to ****.
Life here is difficult in the winters.
Tom McCubbin  May 2015
Snow Broth
Tom McCubbin May 2015
Since it never snows here
let's put down
these imaginary snowballs
of defense,
my love.

Yes, already the icicles
are melting
from your long hair

and I'm thirsty enough
for you
to drink the woman-flavored
broth
that puddles at your feet,

as soon as my own iced blood
begins to pour long
and again,
like a hundred pound sack
of salt
pouring through one pinhole
of flesh
into your savory broth.
The alarm clock alarmed me only
slightly
I rose up and may say rather sprightly
for the seasoned old trout that I be.

Later
when I'm out and about on my errands she sends me a message to tell me she loves me
and not to forget to get bergamot tea,

Well

bergamot me
bergamot tea
what will they dream up next?

I send a reply
which says
I
Love you too and I shall not forget to get bergamot tea.

Some things tickle me
like
a jolly good cup
of
Bergamot tea

She tickles me too
but
that's a different story.
ryn  Sep 2014
Strung
ryn Sep 2014
Fetch me out of my case
Handle with care my prized lacquered face
Rest gently my wooden veneered base
Cradle my neck and prepare to lace

Wipe off my fret with a towel
Gift to me your first string
Fasten one end with a dowel
More to do before I sing

Other end, goes into my head
Through one pinhole, allow some slack
Remaining strings, the same you will thread
Strung side by side, along their tracks

Now tighten, wind them taut
Work away the looseness
Stash aside all other thoughts
My voice almost heard albeit tuneless

Here I lay; quiet and strung
You'd have to give me my voice
Then I'd speak but only in your tongue
Then I'd sing only if it's your choice

Prop me up, caress my earthy spine
I'd mouth your words according to pitch
United through movement, manipulate my lines
Your script; my mouth, seamlessly we'd stitch

Your fingers, they twitch and flick
Willing the most lifelike of gestures
Rising and falling of my strings you'd pick
Whimsical dance between slaves and masters

My body over which I have no control
Helplessness overcome my entire being
In my fibres, grains and knots, bore no soul
Without you I lay limp; close to nothing

You need me to project your speech
I need you to make me feel alive
Off of each other, we'd feed and leech
As both hosts and parasites, together we'd thrive

I am one of yours but not the favourite pet
I am just an extension of your unfortunate self
I am wood, dead and lifeless; a strung up marionette
Not a guitar but your fancy puppet sitting on the shelf
brandon nagley Oct 2015
The real me, the spiritual me, break's free
From mine corpse;
Stepping into reality.

A rushing sound filleth mine head
A popping sound, mine spirit's above mine body, aloft the ground; I'm dead.

I seeith the nurses, the doctor's art frantic
Mother's praying outside the door;
Father's nerves art shot, he's panicked.

I couldst heareth mother interceding to the lord
On mine own behalf, the operation was over;
Tis mine blood got cold and fast.

The scalpel was thrown into a glass
I heardst the surgeon's word's, we couldn't save him, we tried ourn best, I kneweth he didst all he can, he worked harder then the rest.

At that thought of mind, I shot through space and time,
In a tunnel I ended up in, mine sin's hadst crossed mine mind;
The wormhole I was in, was dark, at the end; a pinhole of light.

I felt none worry, distress, nor unease, I kneweth this was living, as I was floating, without walking nor running, an unseen presence carrying mine feet: I felt the calm and light warm me.

I hadst read of this, from mine Christian belief's, and the spiritual book's and video's I hadst studied; the other's account's were true of this tube, we move freely, towards the brightness with none toe's nor feet coming.

I ended up inside the light, it engulfed me, it taught me, this is where all wouldst be alright; I stood at a gate, not with Pearl's, but as other's saidst, Pearlescent by heavenly view and sight.

There were no demon's like at mine abode, no stress filled hour's, no Pain nor Human insight; I was met at the entryway by mine great grandmother whom hadst passed after me and mother left her side during her death.

Granny saidst Brandon " we hath been waiting for thee, I sawest generation's of mine kin; French, English, Scottish, Greeks, natives, swiss, Irishmen.

Mother's and father's side both, hadst known I was coming, their already aware, as the lord telleth them there, the time and dates of their loved one's succumbing.

I was overjoyed, none word's to slip mine tongue, here I was an adolescent of knowledge, though all I wouldst learn in big sum's;
I kneweth this was safety, rest, peace, I felt with mine loved one's as one.

Mine kin stepped aside, the one I've begged for help was in mine vision, he hadst three robes, ivory white- with a purple sash, there were holes still in his hand's, though his beauty burned bright on his father God's behalf.

His eye's were as flame's, though his amour' was overwhelming, I felt mine body as a tuning fork, vibrating with his brightness, as if this was his second coming, the universe was seen through his core.

He grabbed mine shoulder, we walked farther in, I felt none sense of time,no age limit just a frame of mind; where the young and unborn were, as well as oldened in age, there was aloud none sin.

The messiah showed me the street's paved with literal gold, something unseen back on planet earth, a place where a river of life floweth from God's throne, everything's sharper, senses heightened, as well as sight, sound, feel, touch, taste. Holy grace.

Color's, tints, hue's, all loud, everything was alive, LIVING, I was aware of all,whilst I heardst angel's singing call's, they sung different song's, yet on Earth a million song's together wouldst be nonsense, this place the music all perfectly was fused.

There were mountain's, Hill's, real mansion's built, as if an acid trip back on earth we wouldst conjoin with the planet in a false trip; here this was what was, amazingly struck me how all was one, no illusion's like earthly drug induced fantasies, no if's, and's, why's, or because. Though question's flickered through me faster then I couldst speak.

Here there was no need to move mine Lip's, telepathically we knoweth all, no brain needed, none memory enhancer's, no need to speaketh with human Lip's, thought's talk back and forth, though by free will we canst use ourn mouth if desired.

Christ took me into mine creator's throne room, the amazing part is God and christ art one, no comprehension of that back on the blue globe, beneathe the sun; as God sat down on a tall structured seat.

A river of life flowing out of his feet, inside were seraph's, cherub's, a divine meet, Christ was on mine right side like another story of a man I hadst read, I was living, Christ interceded for me, I was far from dead.

Mine great architect spoke living word's from his mouth, he was pure light, not as if the bulb in thy house, he shined, gleamed,he was the reason the third heaven needed no sun nor moon.

He spoke to me , " Brandon mine son, thy work is not yet done, continueth in love, though go telleth more of mine forgiveness and grace, telleth man to love another, and to respect their whole race; as tis at that moment I turned to Christ next to me interceding, the lord christ cried next to me, we must remember Christ took human form on earth, tis he kneweth the feeling of bleeding.

At that moment I was out of God's sight, Christ took mine hand and body back into the tunnel light, I flashed shot like a bullet into that tube out of sight, mine great-grandmother took mine finger's and locked them, and took me back to mine carrion, I didst not want to go back though god spoke the day and dawn.

I felt as a glove mine soul slip back into that cold corpse, mine pastor I heardst around me praying with part of the church;
Mother held mine hand next to me, dad I listened to saying this he didst not deserve; at that moment mine eye's opened.

Mother didst not knoweth I saweth her praying outside of the room when I was out of mine body, she held me, felt me, a child again I felt. I sensed mother's love again, as I told mine mother granny saidst hello, and she's waiting for thou to, and I told dad that his father couldst breathe once again, his cancer's not in heaven, that dad's father was renewed.

As still earthly being's I kneweth mum and dad didst not yet understand all the thing's of the bible art true;
As tis when I left the hospital I thought of the one's waiting for me, generation's of family, as I was waiting for them to.

As tis the memory hit me
Of Christ's Tear's;
How he crieth like men
How he Hurt's when he seeith us turneth against him
How O' how I remembered freshly the hole's in his hand's and feet. He told me to touch them, as he didst to his disciples
I remembered how I bowed
To mine Christ
Mine savior,
I remembered god his father's strong word's
"Telleth man to love one another"
As tis men art forgetting the reason why we art here;
To love.
To love one another is God's purpose.




©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
1Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. 2In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. 3And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also. 4And whither I go ye know, and the way ye know.
John 14:1-3
A Simillacrum Apr 2019
What's the deal with binaries?
Such pinhole lens.
If you feel wrong, then,
ask yourself, Who's standing
in my salt circle?

What's the deal with sorting hats?
So limited.
If you feel out of place,
ask yourself, Who's speaking
to my lowest disgrace?

You knew as well I as I did
this catalytic event would happen.
For only so long, can you grind
your face in the acceleration,
before you ****
with the aperture, then         what?

Great opening, come to closing,
Let's love.
Great opening, come to closing,
Let's love.

The alpha myth dispensary, dead,
I see you running free, safely packed.
Mr. Wolf, I want         some of that!

— The End —