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xmxrgxncy Nov 2016
I want to paint you a picture
of a spaghetti cloud
raining meatballs
and the marinara dripping
off starchy tendrils
like dew off a tilted blade
of summer's finest grass.

I want to paint you a picture
of a feline thunderbolt
with its' hair on end
and the screeching
echoing loudly
like the persistent mews
of an unfed kitten.

I want to paint you a picture
of a lost little girl
with her hairbow missing
and her eyes
opened quite wide
like an owl
who has gone blind.
I've felt more and more dysfunctional lately. I kind of wonder at all the bizarre thoughts running through my head but I can't exactly stop them but rather help them escape and stay away.
Cné Sep 2016
Sometimes, I think
Thinking is weird.
What do you think?
Pea Mar 2016
i wish you knew
how much i see
galaxies and other beautiful things in you
i wish you see
that these things i know are true
take a closer look within me
im sorry in adv ily
aviisevil Dec 2015
these letters were found years later when a post office was closed down.
the man who by chance saw these letters addressed to each other was shocked upon reading them..
he has been since suspended for breach of privacy... at a closed post office.




dear mister planklot, I would like to concern you with a letter I got from one of my readers,
as I have always seen you as my leader, I want to have a conversion with you and discuss about this rather bizarre case, his letter was divided into five fold of a page,
by his writing he must have been no more than in his teens I'm afraid,
he wrote about a dream he saw at night,
a pale shadow would emerge from the seam of his pocket;
a rather strange scene, he claimed to have seen this over and over every third night.
the shadow tells him a different story each time, about the future and past;
he has an answer for everything that the boy asks,
it lasts till the shadow transforms into someone human;
and each time it summons a hideous creature that has three legs and nine tails,
he always mentions one name without fail;
some nights ago he whispered my name;
he told me no more, I found that a bit strange.
it was rather interesting to read about the stories the shadow told,
but some of them were infectious and cold,
there were a few that made me wither to my bones,
in the pursuit of knowledge we forget sometimes it is better to leave a few things unknown;
even though I thought it was a faux back then,
I was afraid by the things witnessed by this young man;

I threw the letter and later I forgot about him too;
but yesterday night I had the same dream too;
the shadow talked about you, he told me you will die soon;
but not before murdering me accidentally;
now I don't know what to believe in anymore,
but since I've known you for so many years;
I know there is absolutely no possibility of that happening;
we have never met each other; we only communicate via words and no face,
you don't know my place and I have no clue about yours;
I want to discuss this some more but I have to be out of town in an hour and I'm afraid I have not much time left, and even the post office is far.
I will be eagerly waiting for your response, with some wine and cigars.

yours truly
mister clasten





dear clasten, I am in a rush as I write this letter to you;
as I consider you trustworthy, I confide this in you;
I was driving through a street and I saw a strange looking boy standing still,
I don't know what happened to me but I felt a chill;
it ran through my spine and across my soul,
by the time I could grasp, my car had gone off the road;
I am telling you honestly, I saw a shadow emerging from his pocket;
by then it was too late, I ran someone over by the post office.
it has been a few days but seems no one has a clue,
I'm even going to deleiver this letter at the same post office,
to see if I really have to pay my dues;
if I get caught than it is meant to be, but if I am not,
I will consider myself free.
I hope you can understand, it wasn't my fault,
I am leaving the town, good-bye and all.


yours truly,
mister planklot
Brent Kincaid Nov 2015
I’ve dreamed I was falling asleep
And shaking myself to keep awake.
There’s only so much weirdness
And crap a poor dreamer can take.
It was all involved with friends you see
That I don’t see now, because they
Were stranger than my dreams
Or maybe I was. Back in the day.

I would be partying with them
And walking remembered streets
But I’d look around and everybody
Found other people to go meet.
Then suddenly the Hollywood
I knew and loved for twenty years
Became Kansas City boulevards
And Hollywood totally disappears.

Or maybe I’m coming home
At the end of a tiring long day
And look around, find myself
Saying, no way. No effing way;
This is not my apartment!
It’s fine, I kind of like the place
But someone is pulling a joke
The housekeeping is a disgrace.

Then someone would come in
Who I was supposed to know
And this chick is my roommate?
Oh, no. This woman has got to go.
But before I can get my head
Wrapped around standing up
My family is there too, cooking
Handing me a steaming hot cup.

Well,, now I can’t offend them
So, I sit my *** back down.
I don’t want to seem ungrateful
Like some unfunny kind of clown.
******, I leave to go for a walk
Thinking I am in Tucson but then
This is the Country Club Plaza
And I’m back in Kansas City again.

One time I was building something,
Under an expensive sort of contract
But none of the sub-contractors
Or the assistants knew how to act.
They were putting the thing together
Like a Rube Goldberg machine.
I was going ballistic on them all;
The ugliest thing I had ever seen.

These are the dreamworlds for me
On a regular, but often bizarre basis.
Streets change while walking
And people I know change their faces.
Or I am tasked to do something
Involving technology or looming mass
I end up getting no help at all
And wind up falling right on my ***.
Kagey Sage Oct 2015
I've always had those moments
when I seem braindead
but really I'm just overthinking
a passed or impending situation

Making two-star dramas and slasher films
I'm the silent victim
that should've saw it coming
in my soothsayer premonitions

Wish I could drop a bag of bones
and let them come up with
the mood I should be in

These small woodland animal spirits
prancing around my world
tell me what's life's deal
and sometimes make me fearful
when I'm in a badly lit room alone


It's not the dark that gnashes
but that which most wants the light


As if, life is about burning your hands
on many light bulbs, 'till some source
slurps up your essence and your stuck
finding the portal to the next level
fighting and collecting dragons on the way
fighting and collecting dragons on the way
Crazy loons
                                   blind hearts they ****
                                       fools with guns
                              shells and blown up hills

                                    kind of the world
                                      has a sore head
                            and suggests to morons
               why don't we blow up a paint factory instead?

                                       yes we could
                                        if we should
                              well do it once a year
                                  won't that be good

                          Gallons of different colours
                                flying up in the sky
                               splodging so funnily
                       A GREEN DOG JUST RAN BY!!

                      And all the different countries
                             joined hands forever
                            and learned real peace
                  blowing up paint factories together
Search the ministry of bizarre poems
aviisevil Jun 2015
Larry says,
That there is no god
Larry is a cool guy
But I think he should give it a little thought,
I don't have a clue about god either
But does that matter ?
I think it does not
I think its about life and death
Larry won't care about the dead
but he's cool
sometimes Larry walks across the street without even turning his head
I mean traffic moves at neck break speeds, there's bound to be a death
sooner or later
but Larry is a badass or so he wants to portray
personally, I don't like crossing roads, **** scares me to death
I use that word a lot for some reason, death
I fear it, I can't seem to take it out of my head
nights and nights spent dreaming about what I'll leave in this world
I won't live forever, I admit
That hurts
but I don't want to be a cinical  man anymore
I don't think I ever wanted that in the first place
but life is weird, things just happen most of the time
and once in a while you come across a mirror and see your face
and scream oh lord, what a pathetic loser and turn your face
it's the ultimate disgrace
but that's not larry
he is too smart for that
we wear masks to hide ourselves
he wears one to free himself
same tools, different meaning
opposite stories but the same ending
almost poetic in nature
Larry was a poet too
a decent one at that
and he reminded me so much about the things I could've had
if only i wasn't dreaming so much
but sleep is so beautiful
how beautiful must be death
if there's a place I want to die
I want it to be in my bed
but Larry would rather
ride a missile to the school
I think that's.........okay
if its a Sunday and nobody is at school, otherwise not cool
But Larry is cool if you can look past that thing that has a chance of happening more remotely then him becoming a super saiyan,
What I am sayin' is
That there is no denying that Larry is at least has an imagination
he loves fantasy and talks in weird languages that honestly looks like he's having a seizure
He does it for leisure
what a geek, right ?
But geeks are cool now, aren't they ?
I mean, rock is dead
that's a blow
people play sports on a couch
okay
wars are boring
big nations attack a smaller nation that then attacks the bigger nation back until the smaller nation is destroyed by a host of other countries that were sold weapons by the big nation that started it, or you know.. they fail
But whatever, there's much good left in this world though the television and the media will have you believe otherwise
Though what is good does not always mean that it is not stupid as ****
It'll make you sick
But it's not harming anyone
only the people who watch it
it clicks
that's all there it is to that
Larry doesn't watch telly no more
he's beyond all that
He watches them when he wants
where he wants, how he wants
the thought haunts me often
That someone somewhere has a faster internet connection
I mean internet is like a thing now, I mean there has already been an inspection
of how awesome this new world is,
It's people and cultures
Free of boundaries and limits
Achieving the impossible everyday
A thing so huge
Even we can't comprehend it
and we made that **** up
( for the already dumb one )
and when I say we,
I mean we as collective species
and not as me and other individuals
but clearly, it's massive
where there's not only okay to be a thief but completely acceptable
I mean that's a spectacle
a mockery of laws of the land that you understand as an adult that thou won't steal from the other man
And they rebel against any management whatsoever
And that's how its supposed to be
So we're fine... I guess
Unless the skynet ?
Larry told me
skynet is already here
Waiting in our computers
Watching us and hearing us
All the ******* time
That means
Someone or something knows about everything of mine
that's just so ******' embarrassing and awkward and scary
But embarrassing and scary.... And it makes one feel ***** about oneself, maybe that's what's the problem is
We no longer get to be ourselves
think about it
When was the last time you said something or wrote something without thinking about it
you can be honest about it but you'll still lie to yourself, you still doubt it
if you really are what you see in the mirror, in the photos
Or through what they say about you
yet world has the many
And you have the few
Larry says he has more friends than he can accept
I find that statement strange at times but I haven't been able to inquire about it
but that's okay, Larry is a cool guy
he does his own business and still wears a tie
I mean, how often do you wear a tie when you don't have to
I think most humans are lazy and that'll be the last thing we'll do
Wear ties while deciding what to buy and what to sell
what to make and what to feed the hell with, oh hell
But they give birth as they gift death
I've seen some videos, I've seen some heads
nuclear families hiding in depths of the dark
destroying the fourth somebody many times apart
But that's just a theory
Less likely then R+L= j
I wish that would happen but if something else happens I would still be glad to have seen the end
I don't want to be lost this time, that would really **** my friend
Larry wouldn't watch the show
Because he thinks its not cool no more
When things like these happen, you know-
Those little small things that you observe sometimes
That reminds you that you are glad to be yourself rather than being another at least one human you know,
Mostly the ones you hate, given they hate you or maybe they don't
It doesn't matter
Or maybe the ones purely evil
Coming to evil
Larry says that every man has good and bad in them
And I've heard that from everybody
But it's something that is harder to teach than learn
You're own on your own, in the middle
While a pack of wolfs bark all around you
Nobody gives a **** anymore
For one thing
This world we have made
I've always wondered,
Is it not a world of distraction
rather than a world of progress
I guess every one is a Larry
Who only ever thinks about himself
But pretends to be kind in person
That doesn't matter
Because what is, it is
I remember a story I once told Larry when I was at an altitude and had a head-ache and could barely sit up or breath up,
That was a real **** up
And I told him, what if a child who never learns that Santa is not real and never assumes anything, grows old and die, never knowing that Santa has never been,
Would it matter
Now that the man shall never be,
With all he has ever seen
Wouldn't it be a lovely dream
To be in a world
Where there's more than death

even without god ?
not a poem ?
On the land molded by footsteps and ruled by obnoxiously bleached clowns,
Visited by swarms of neighborhood guttersnipes and the opulent from uptown.

Allured by the traditional Irish circus music and the grinding of rusted gears,
To arrive at dawn and to leave only when the night sky is tired of fireworks and flares.

Skittish and gleaming eyes would roll on the floor, struck by daze and lost in wonderment,
At the marvel of giant steel rides and god forsaken and socially foretoken genetic mutants.

The word of a woman with two faces and the boy with a tail would make any catholic priest run.
Amusing the rational ones, alongside the man with elastic skin and the girl with the forked tongue.

The opera lady with outlandish proportions and tumorous lips sings to break a piece of cheap glassware.
Little do people know,that the magician’s red gloves are actually stained with blood of rabbit that disappeared.

Their noses get caught in the medley of fragrances from the exotic perfumes shop,
Blended with the saccharine tang from the stall that sells candy floss and soda pops.

Indulging over the overly priced confectioneries at the stall of the baker with the forbidding grin.
Try it a hundred times,try it a thousand,you’ll never get the fifth one right in the game of rings.

People will come out screaming from the haunted house,only to laugh about it later,
Little do they know,that skeletons that drove them pale and white couldn't get any realer.

They’ll jostle and struggle to make their way through the crowd to various rides and attractions.
Hustling to navigate through the maze the carnival is, encountered by countless illusions.

And once your body wears out and senses give in,that’s when you've truly entered the carnival state of mind.
Your ears stinging ,nose stifled,tongue baffled, eyes exhausted,and your sense of judgment blinded.

That’s when my masked act begins,the most profitable act at the carnival,
Diving into the heart of the crowd,to draw an act of brilliance lasting an ephemeral.

Slithering across the crowd in a different disguise every hour,concealed by stealth.
Sneaking into every nook and corner and slipping my furtive hands into your pockets for a little bit of wealth.

Only to dine with the clowns and the carnival family at the haunted house at the end of the day.
**And of course, rabbits for dinner,if the baker may
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