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Melanin  Oct 2016
Melanin Oct 2016
A univeral sence of escape
      Not just my own luxury
     Trapped behind the walls
   Screaming with my silenced voice
       I am okay , I promise
       These markings on my body
        mean nothing
       Yet each one has its own
       Meaning something to me

       I am sorry
      I am okay, I promise
      I am not okay ,but I guess that doesn't matter to you.
    Because you aren't even there
S Smoothie May 2014
I drive the city streets at night

praying for a glimpse of you

playing the tapes burned in my mind

anything just to hear your voice

i miss talking to you in that free and easy way we do.

i mis that deep throaty laugh

that tenderness in your eyes

the way you think Im amazing

and the tender nervous way you touched me ever so lightly

a whole world in your touch, the univeral truth in your eyes

a hunter closing in and a deer in headlights by the close

my mind like my car drives in circles

I crave our time

anything to hear your voice

to feel your energy mingle with mine

God I miss you

I just want to feel alive
within twenty first century promotion
   sans scientific paradigm
dogmatically hefty, kinetically lofty,
   and poetically thoroughly, xyz beliefs misalign
wherein mechanistic Ptolemaic,

   static venerated yin yang benign
choreography describing elementary forces
   governing heavens inviting jinxed, kooky,
   loopy measures necessitating pacific rectification
   to guarantee spatial objects remain in line

which notions trotted out
   a cosmic deal with invisble ink
   omnipresent, omniscient omnipotent
   benevolent creator link
synonymously afffixed terrestrial
   firmament (planet Earth) nsync

   with bedrock of deified Gibraltor
until undisputed supposedly
   figuratively hermetically sealed
   fostered religious (church) fathers
   to do more than blink

when inquisitive minds (undaunted
   though invoked as heretical martyrs)
   blaspheming solidly entrenched
   blind faith functioning with charm
mingly quaint association with amulets, churinga,
   equisite fetishisms guiding humanity

   innumerable journeys kickstarting
   legendary modus operandi initially harm
   less lee sounding out,
   what manifested into a schismatic alarm
   regarding millennial questions
   underming liturgical moorings
   strong lance heaving arm

irrevocably toppled geocentric mindset,
   nonetheless this oblate spheroid dance
sing with the stars redoubled
   devout hangers-on fixed
   with barnacle cleaving devotion stalwart stance
Page Number Two:

populace behooved (as would be expected),
   when Douting Thomas' revolutionary screeds
   threatened (prior to unending)
   univeral schema just by chance
and despite proclamations pronounciations,
   and provocations roiling status quo
   hashtagged as evil rants

eventually zealous warfare between
   growing heliocentric individuals  
   with sacrilegiously blatantly deranged
fiendishly gnarly heathens –
   perhaps the Renaissance own Timothy Leary

the dawn of a quantifiable, explainable theory
(minus all those concentric embedded orbital paths)
   diktat preachers eventually became weary
to challenge recalcitrant (purported hell raisers)
   (****, I would have fit right in as a rebel rouser)
   whereby agents provocateurs spout vestigial claim
   to Gaea remaining front and center of galaxy
   on par clubbing with Mother Mary.
Since we was teens I had a dream us moving upstreams things then didn't really seems like we was a team
But then I gotta gleam thoughts steam wishin' you was my Queen
Our souls interwoven got my phallus swollen cuz I'm bowlin'
For your love I'll knock all ya pins when you hit a back bend let the souls ascend no pretend reaching for destiny through univeral energy my black synergy kills all enemies that try top my positivity no negativity can't stop us any rate shake the fake great like frosted flakes quakes get ate
From my nine millimeter that's loves to shine smokin' on pine creating pipe designs
Huh feel my heartbeats tuned to the nature sweet
Soulful sounds animals creatin' vibrations all around bound
By unlimited boundaries pass ordinary til we touch the obituary and buried in the cemetery know my love will never grow lenient and weary

Deepen' emotions life is constant commotions
Deepen' emotions feel my energy connections
Though pain will rise dry your eyes and aim ya head towards the sky x1

Now that I've got you trapped feel magical dap as I slap you with nothing but ******* strokes above peaceful as a dove though we shove
Through many problems I'll never budge or hold a grudge with your beautiful fudge
Light brown complexion don't get me Flexin' cuz my nines'll be testing ****** heart rate don't make a date
With the devil usually mellow black as Othello say hello to the new life bump out my old wife widowed death carefully watch the steps uppin' reps as adventures prepped Im dreamin' like Williams aimmin' for billions not talkin' money talkin' about the energies that atomed me into what I am today you my Queen will always have my say ???

Deepen' emotions life is constant commotions
Deepen' emotions feel my energy connections
Though pain will rise dry your eyes and aim ya head towards the sky x1
Megan Coleman Jul 2017
I wonder
if there was
anything else to write
but bones and ale.
And I hate
to leave you
after breakfast
but I loathe
the very sight
of you now.

The whole world
spinning on a carousel
in the middle
of the univeral circus.

Leave me alone,
I ache so.
Stop my screaming,
if you can.

You kissed me too hard
and I should've
backed away
but I do so love
to soothe a
trouble child.
Mateuš Conrad  Feb 2019
one eye
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2019
i haven't seen
a gamer since:
the god delusion
took off....
i thought
i was strapped back
into "hiding"...
or the infantile
quantum relief...

kept me sane
into, the
armed with only...

i tend to squint
shut 'un of 'em...

and the world
plays out its
   ****-***** about
to smacker me
up with a sober 'un?!

he walks
past me,
broad on his "shoulder"...
i'm walking past him
with a bottle of beer...
he has, i mean:
he has to excuse the "affair"
with a 'ha ha'
making it to a breath
******... just tickles me...
i could just 'ave burried
my mother...
but i love
the tease...
tending toward
the cast of man
who's allow the instnce
a case of...
gender disphoria...

'ha ha' passing a stranger?
bigger no bigger
than what i'd expect from
a pick-me-up...

thank **** i didn't bother
making video content of
resorting to writing

                  i'll let it pass,
this, what you'd call...
the easily available act
of... person...
or... lax...
  i saved 'em the trouble...
beating myself up
with an eye
worth the plum,
and the hue,
and the eye-liner
to mach up with...

       ****, ever find a man
gagging for a sadistic
intake of pain?

rare... i'm sure...
pain, as a variant
of pleasure,
is so devoid
of the univeral man
exploit that...
                for the man
who actually deviates
in deriving pleasure
from pain?
i never ingested much
of pleasure
from an ******...
to begin with.
its not unlike humanity to seek answers. we look toward our largest, most near satelite and; well nothing--at least until a few decades ago. Nothing more could be done than to gaze at its surface and ponder the texture and deformations of its outer most layer. we have, since, spent billions of dollars to, in my best aproximation, spend a few hours there trapsing around on it. to smash a golf ball a little bit farther than one could on their best day on the green.

the stories contained herein, are little more than testaments of how individuals, without golf clubs let alone space craft, have sought the same relationship with foriegn textures.

and, while these inner-efforts have been as costly as those toward our moon, and that their gleanings have been equally fleeting, and the fact that their experiences provide more questons than answers, it remains that, just like our excursions toward a spinning rock, the dabblings of psychonauts are just as much an undertaking of a serious narrative--whether personal or univeral.
and here we find ourselves half-way understood, and even less understanding searching for a narrative. yes, and now, the narrative may even be abandoned in search of it, as DiVinci would have never imagined the telescope without first dreaming to travel amongst the stars.
may these entries be only a comma in a Proustian sentactical excursion. a pause amidst a thought still forming. a psychological hypothesis, equally ready to be both further tested or discarded.
it may have begun

— The End —