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Jonathan Surname Aug 2018
I live a breath's away from the oldest river in the world.
While I don't take much of nature in it is awe inspiring,
to be sure.
I live within the crook of the oldest mountains in our history.
Not the tallest,
nor the proudest,
but for now these ranges are growing senile within their misery.

The riverrun through it and exposes rock perhaps a billion years old.
Our oral histories, passed on legends,
scary stories and mountaineer folklore accounts for
such a small passage of time.
We built a bridge once.
It was at one time the longest single-span arch in the world.
Now it's the fourth.
Top five, and that's something for which I am proud.
The oldest river, in the world.
The oldest mountains, in the world.
The highest fatal overdose rate, in the States.

There is a beauty to be had here. Somewhat backwards, but
growing up our water was clear.
It's now choked from coal slurry.
The brain drain of young adults leaving, in much hurry,
hurts us as the ones that remain become grey and blurry.
We are living in a permanent winter and we have high roads,
that wind and curve. Dangerous when icy. veins filled with
heavy loads and nodding verve.
I live a breath's away from the oldest river in the entire world.
I can't touch Roman ruins with my hands, or
sift through the Dead Sea and float on salt above sand.
I can't touch the hill where Jesus may have died,
I don't know what it feels like to hold history as pride.
But our trees even when green have a dusty coal darkened sheen.
Summer is overgrowth from the Springtime rains.
The highest fatal overdose rate in the entire United States.

Where once we built bridges to close in the gap of travel.
We unzip black bags with rigs and object with obvious cavil.
Our industry is old, the world is moving on from coal.
For better, to be sure, but in the meantime we grow cold.
Not from lack of heat, we can boil our spoons just fine.
But we need a replacement from shaft or the mountaintop mine.
Let us worry about beauty again,
let us treat addiction with correction instead of levying it as sin.
Remove the pantomiming politician speak
of addicts or the sick as being weak.

Let's find ourselves again, West Virginia. You're the only home I've known.
Childhood summertimes sat beneath canopies of caterpillar home,
the happy baby butterflies eating leaves so more sun could shone.
Walking sticks used to play with me in my yard,
and at nighttime I'd still be outside mouth agape at the stars.
Evening meant lightning bugs and I'd capture a few in the cup of my hands.
There was a whimsy to how nature responded to us,
how bees would bumble and land,
on the dandelions whose seeds I'd spread as I blew on their white
polyp heads.
Maybe it's nostalgia and my memories are tinted rosy.
The smell of wood stoves burning in winter,
the crispness of autumn breezes felt cozy.
There was a trust held in communities, or maybe I was naïve.
Some of my friends made a choice and moved.
Others among us took a more permanent leave.
My brother, too. He himself got in a lot of trouble.
Over the cotton swab boiled to a bubble.
He died when I was young so maybe everybody is right.
It's all sentimentality and a lot of lonely nights.
But does the past being ****** up make the worsening now fine?

I live a breath's away from the oldest river and mountain range.
I live with the highest fatal overdose rate in the United States.
there's much debate as to whether the New River or the Appalachian/Blue Ridge/Allegheny mountains are, in fact, the oldest.
there is, however, no debate as to whether or not West Virginia (WV) holds the highest fatal overdose rate in the US

In 2010 WV held one of the highest fatal overdose rates,
By 2017 much of the country's overdose rates increased
WV's 2010 numbers are higher than 60% of the country's 2017 numbers,
and WV's 2017 are higher than everybody else's.

This is not to meant to take away the pain that's transcended broadly throughout the country. This is not meant to be diminishing, not even remotely, but it is meant to shine a solemn light.

I'm sorry for those of you that may know somebody who has passed on from drugs, or that may be currently struggling with their addictions. Whether it's opiates, alcohol, or prescriptions.
But let's try to remove some of the stigma surrounding addiction.

Forgive some stolen money.
Avoid gossip and rumor.
Reach out to somebody who may have fallen away from the crowd.
I'd much rather live with an addict than haunted by a ghost.

thank you for reading
Jonathan Surname Aug 2018
To the limits!
And the heaves are harmed, in our lungs
and arms. Tendons flexed on their utmost,
and breath at play in the drowned coast.

To the shores!
And the leaves are left as specks of colour,
from the moors.
and vacations left the hinterlands
of the decayed, breathless holler.

For the greater good we stood as imagined heroes,
Yet for happenstance to lend a chance in our woes,
required a great many motifs
to clamour and climb
In glamourous time
to the raised butte
of a finishing sublime.

Modulate the past and harmonize the future.
Together tapestry'd, akin to patchwork suture.

We weren't raised this way.
To remain forever at play, workhorses neigh.
And sawing brilliance and sawdust eyes,
rapier wit with no equal.
But together a two-parter,
to the shores to see the sea quell.

Wildfire lick like lit flame.
Burn it all down and give me the blame.
It's a carried burden worth the worry.

In mountains some exist as prideful barons.
Barring the loss of their barren,
their smiles turn smirks of heathen carrions.
Which is fine, and the motif licks again.
And the motive is sublime; it's only sin.

Cherish the children and their rue of thresher-born,
Thomas Ligotti and his party of philosophy,
but I'm too caught in histrionics to allow the matter
to matter.
Beyond the kicking feet of the mirthful pitter-patter,
pitted against the coming solstice of time saving;
forward and back and ouroboros we may.
Hold on tight to this singular day.
Ignorant of the causes of our own decay.
Lost during summers covered in spittle and seaspray.
Only to mount a return, a loss,
to the area most unaccepting of the cost.

To the mountaintops!
**** what you see, and reap what you sow.
Push the mountains down into the crow,
and call out for the all the denizens below,
"Here's another landslide." As you call; Heave, and **.
Pile them neat and plant a seed,
of a tree that hasn't belonged or had a chirped song
in a placidity.
Awareness for a dying region

https://i.imgur.com/qUkjevo.jpg
A Simillacrum Jul 2018
Remembering hurt.
Designations of dirt.
Crawling, knee and nail.
Dessicated herbs.
Resignation of worth.
Stretching for the bag.

I've seen how this ends.

Up in smoke.
Dreaming delight.
Up in smoke.
Dreaming delight.

How long will this pattern run?
Up until the day is done.
How long will this pattern run?
Up until the day is done.

For any calm from halcyon,
I need

to burn
the herb.

I've seen
how this
ends.

Up in smoke.

(...)
Thank you for reading.
a tasty
reside here
and in
that hide
every time
I see
her there
in this
gym with
his gem
in my
head to
orbit the
sound of
be-bop in
quarter of
saxophonic bleed
a dancer with notes
neth jones Jul 2018
[Disclaimer : Collection edited from previous works for the purpose of competition.]

Notes during Jane’s night out
and its afterbathe.


Observe :

when your heart's beating overtime
you drool poison in your sleep
and you're looking down
on this wound of slaughter
simply turn your head
and repress the urge
for mischief
mirth
and laughter

Jane’s prayer of control


Observe :

Deathlessness 
becomes my Oedipus
Restlessness, my Vein
I spy from the Windows
upon the Exterior ;
It's Humid, Night and Rain
I pave my Thoughts ; 
all bark and froth
I Pound Drinks
It Powers tight my Bellows
I Hound the Clock
My energy thrives out a fan of nerves
I create an idea of what's soon to be
A plan of posable culture
forms flossy in my Tide
and
(as the Night Out steps up)
It Bites firm in my mind

I stride across the threshold
Betraying nothing
Of the Savage I've put together
Slough Suited in neat Disguise.


Observe :

Raw Meat and Red Teeth
I'm a Bow to the Moon
I Click over Cobbles
A Mad Energy
Bailed in my Stomach
I Task Myself
Open
And Daring Prey to Cross the Tension
Strung on my Senses
All Hot Gut and Wire
I'm Playing at Being
A Wild and Mean Thing
And I am Dedicated to this Wound.


Observe Others :

The exclusive clubbers present their cards of invite
And go swiftly about the social wetwork 
Their practices and manners 
Interact and ply
Pulling teeth of the guises
Harvesting an inflammation of words
A baffle of tongue chorings 
There is an hour
There follow more
Whittling time
Taming code
Resorting to a little physical...
Then they take their leave ;
Prizes into the nights snare.


Observe My Racing Brain :

Let’s put Sleep to Death
And purify madness
We shall practice giddy boils of imagination
Bright
And quick lives could flare
Brief celebrities
Hastily added
To this new chattering evolution
There'd be little lung for morals
And sorrows would be swift experiments
Let's make all lives what they really are
Put Sleep to Death
And be recognized
As blurs
As shots 
As stars and spittings
Firing in this universe
This playground
This raw wash of activity


Observe my Near Miss :

gunbeat
memory fleeing ;
murrums over soils
stresses and seas
desaturation
my colourless meat
mind down
hasty retreat
coma tones
my last retreat
failing the game
and foul on my feet

but then spoiled warmth floods back
my sponge reforms
damaged
but re-soaked
current again


Observe Hospital Stay :

Talisman
Brighter than a new spawned sage
Appears to me.
Abyss-less
It lisps of rest
And passes me its clay.
Obedient
I foster a dent
And begin to draw my feed.


Observe my learning :

take a breath
expel a myth
pattern a thought
create an action
reset and repetitude


Observe a Single Step :

This is a Me
(hands indicate body that they are a part of)
A responsive sock of meats
flush with The Other
and stringy with Thinker

From The Other 
operations may be performed
Within this mix
a View dwells
this could be said
to be a Me

The Being makes
a physical step forward
A Me indicated that it ought to
and it did


Observing Spark Plug :

...and 'oh my God' did I cry
I sparked like I was made of knives
and it carried me
I was adopted
I was addressing reasoning
burying it fiercely and fare
pounding clay over it
and enhancing my surroundings
content
yet
without trust
re-start
welled and sad
sick excited
a primal plug 
connected
and this world had once seemed so borrowed, adolescent and unpracticed.
2019 competition version
a weathered brain              Jane’s night out

Observe my Control Prayer

when your heart's beating overtime
and you drool poison in your sleep
and you're looking down
on this wound of slaughter
simply turn your head
and repress the urge
for mischief
mirth
and laughter

Observe

Deathlessness 
becomes my Oedipus
Restlessness, my Vein
I spy from the Windows
upon the Exterior ;
It's Humid, Night and Rain
I pave my Thoughts ; 
all bark and froth
I Pound Drinks
It Powers tight my Bellows
I Hound the Clock
My energy thrives out a fan of nerves
I create an idea of what's soon to be
A plan of posable culture
forms flossy in my Tide
and
(as the Night Out steps up)
It Bites firm in my mind
I stride across the threshold
Betraying nothing
Of the Savage I've put together
Slough Suited in neat Disguise.

Raw Meat and Red Teeth
I'm a Bow to the Moon
I Click over Cobbles
A Mad Energy
Bailed in my Stomach
I Task Myself
Open
And Daring Prey
To Cross the Tension
Strung on my Senses
All Hot Gut and Wire
I'm Playing at Being
A Wild and Mean Thing
And I am Dedicated to this Wound.

Observing Others Socially

Any platter but this sick heat beating sink of interbeing
With its ******* music and rapid lighting
Exclusive clubbers present their cards of invite
Go swiftly about the social wetwork 
Their manners interact and ply
Pulling teeth of the guises
Harvesting an inflammation of words
A baffle of tongues choring
There is an hour
There follow more
Whittling time
Taming code
Resorting to a little physical...
Then they take their leave ;
Prizes into the nights snare.

Observe Racing Brain

Put Sleep to Death
And purify madness
We shall practice giddy boils of imagination
Bright
And quick lives flare
Brief celebrities
Hastily added
To this new chattering evolution
There'd be little lung for morals
And sorrows would be swift experiments
Let's make all lives what they really are
Put Sleep to Death
And be recognized
As blurs
Shots 
As stars and spittings
Firing in this universe
This playground
This raw wash of activity

Observe Overdose  

gunbeat
memory fleeing ;
murrums over soils
stresses and seas
desaturation
my colourless meat
mind down
hasty retreat
coma tones
my last retreat
failing the game
foul on my feet

but then spoiled warmth floods back
my sponge reforms
damaged
but re-soaked
current again

Observe Hospital

Talisman
Brighter than
A new spawned sage
Appears to me.

Abyss-less
It lisps of rest
And passes me its clay.

Obedient
I foster a dent
And begin to draw my feed.

Observe Lesson

take a breath
expel a myth
pattern a thought
create an action
reset
repeat

Observe Step

This is a Me
(hands indicate body
that they are a part of)
A responsive sock of meats
flush with The Other
and stringy with Thinker

From The Other 
operations may be performed
Within this mix
View dwells
this could be said
to be a Me

Being makes
a physical step forward
A Me indicated that it ought to
and it did

Observing Spark Plug

...and 'oh my God' did I cry
I sparked like I was made of knives
and it carried me
I was adopted
I was addressing reasoning
burying it fiercely and fare
pounding clay over it
and enhancing my surroundings
content
yet
without trust
re-start
welled and sad
sick excited
a primal plug 
connected
and this world had once seemed so borrowed, adolescent and unpracticed

I throw up.






a weathered brain

Jane’s night out




Observe my Control Prayer

when your heart's beating overtime
and you drool poison in your sleep
and you're looking down
on this wound of slaughter
simply turn your head
and repress the urge
for mischief
mirth
and laughter





Observe

Deathlessness 
becomes my Oedipus
Restlessness, my Vein
I spy from the Windows
upon the Exterior ;
It's Humid, Night and Rain
I pave my Thoughts ; 
all bark and froth
I Pound Drinks
It Powers tight my Bellows
I Hound the Clock
My energy thrives out a fan of nerves
I create an idea of what's soon to be
A plan of posable culture
forms flossy in my Tide
and
(as the Night Out steps up)
It Bites firm in my mind

I stride across the threshold
Betraying nothing
Of the Savage I've put together
Slough Suited in neat Disguise.

Raw Meat and Red Teeth
I'm a Bow to the Moon
I Click over Cobbles
A Mad Energy
Bailed in my Stomach
I Task Myself
Open
And Daring Prey
To Cross the Tension
Strung on my Senses
All Hot Gut and Wire
I'm Playing at Being
A Wild and Mean Thing
And I am Dedicated to this Wound.




Observing Others Socially

Any platter but this sick heat beating sink of interbeing
With its ******* music and rapid lighting
Exclusive clubbers present their cards of invite
Go swiftly about the social wetwork 
Their manners interact and ply
Pulling teeth of the guises
Harvesting an inflammation of words
A baffle of tongues choring
There is an hour
There follow more
Whittling time
Taming code
Resorting to a little physical...
Then they take their leave ;
Prizes into the nights snare.








Observe Racing Brain

Put Sleep to Death
And purify madness
We shall practice giddy boils of imagination
Bright
And quick lives flare
Brief celebrities
Hastily added
To this new chattering evolution
There'd be little lung for morals
And sorrows would be swift experiments
Let's make all lives what they really are
Put Sleep to Death
And be recognized
As blurs
Shots 
As stars and spittings
Firing in this universe
This playground
This raw wash of activity




Observe Overdose  

gunbeat
memory fleeing ;
murrums over soils
stresses and seas
desaturation
my colourless meat
mind down
hasty retreat
coma tones
my last retreat
failing the game
foul on my feet

but then spoiled warmth floods back
my sponge reforms
damaged
but re-soaked
current again



Observe Hospital

Talisman
Brighter than
A new spawned sage
Appears to me.

Abyss-less
It lisps of rest
And passes me its clay.

Obedient
I foster a dent
And begin to draw my feed.




Observe Lesson

take a breath
expel a myth
pattern a thought
create an action
reset
repeat


















Observe Step

This is a Me
(hands indicate body
that they are a part of)
A responsive sock of meats
flush with The Other
and stringy with Thinker

From The Other 
operations may be performed
Within this mix
View dwells
this could be said
to be a Me

Being makes
a physical step forward
A Me indicated that it ought to
and it did




Observing Spark Plug

...and 'oh my God' did I cry
I sparked like I was made of knives
and it carried me
I was adopted
I was addressing reasoning
burying it fiercely and fare
pounding clay over it
and enhancing my surroundings
content
yet
without trust
re-start
welled and sad
sick excited
a primal plug 
connected
and this world had once seemed so borrowed, adolescent and unpracticed

I throw up.
Charlie Gnarly May 2018
AFI
A fire in my heart,
A fire in my soul,
And I fire in my belly,
When I eat coal.
An alliterative poem on my physical feelings. Also, a dedication to my favourite band.
solfang Apr 2018
warm as coal,
cold as ice,
you reflect
different emotions,
in the same pair of eyes.
something to warm the brain juice.
often I see stories glazed out from different eyes.
CommonStory Apr 2018
I've tasted black coal

For the first time ever

What a bitter taste

Dry grainy texture

Water makes it worse

I couldnt finish the first lump

Oh how weak i am

My parents made it seem so good

Smile of their faces

Black of demons on their teeth

Its only now i realized

The plain rice

And warm milk

Was a gourmet meal in comparison

They protected me

And i appreciate the weakness I endured through the love of my parent

But for my childs sake

They will taste coal the very first day
Copyright Matthew Marquis Xavier Donald 4/15/2018
Poetic T Apr 2018
Mascara smudges
                dripping,
as snowmen
              evaporate.
Lucy Mohr Feb 2018
That's how I feel.
Not once do I feel as good as I should be.
I'm as useless as dead leaves in the spring.
New leaves make people excited because they bring shade.
All I'm good for is starting a fire that could **** a person.
Fire is bad, just like me.
I'm bad for the people around me, I'm bad to the people I love.
I'm just a bad person.
Sure I may seem successful, but I don't do anything.
I'm as useless as a wet lump of coal.
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