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Blind Pathos Sep 9
Don't look at me
Stare straight ahead
The camera sees
And hears what's said

Fear 'Little' Brother'
In the phone for when
Everything's discovered
You turned you in

Bots with your social
Your facebooked look
And alexiacon vocals
Read you like a book

It was you but only you
Who fed 'Big Data' bots
Letting trackers through
Accessing all you got

Surveillance in any hand
A.I. genies in all reflections
Takes itself from every man
Knowing every direction

Losing a piece of me
Is losing a piece of you
If you come close you see
You're a chess piece too
The A.I. of each warring corporation will acquire or destroy users based on their usefulness to the system. The new intelligence will have every trait of a man except the slowness and mortality. We will live longer than we want.
Blind Pathos Sep 8
Van Gogh’s ear sings tales all night
Soulful moaning over mind’s eye sight

Antagonize the heart and turn the eye
A visitor to the heart or passing by

From this spring that we all drink
What whispers all the thoughts we think

Lunatic genius with eyes turned in
Tell me where my mind has been

A freighting tether is shelter and cage
Where the writer’s pen touches page

Ink’s fossil trail bleeding from my pen
A history of where my heart has been

To go and not say in doing so
Beyond this point no words can go

With feet of clay and hand to chalk
I’ve come to hear Van Gogh’s ear talk
There is a moment just before an idea, it's origin. The magic of the written word is a spark that comes before the writing, up stream, unknown, untamed, shear new. I would follow the path to the origin and bring back great treasures. I have been lost many times, but what else is there to do?
ghost queen Sep 2019
it is what you most fear, your reoccurring nightmare, the thing you can not grasp, understand, that shorts your brain, that death is the end, there is no after life, no purpose to your existence, no just god sitting on a throne, dispensing justice, punishing the evil, rewarding the good. reality is too hard and harsh, you pray to god, is it true, you are more my creation than i am yours.

how do you reconcile the fact that you know so deep down inside is true. you lie to yourself, suppress the fear, repress the thoughts, ignore what you see with you own eyes. the fear rises, the anxiety worsens, the insomnia lengthens, you fall prey to cognitive dissonance. to understand is to forgive, the anger, the irrational behavior.

the idea that you are mortal is unbearable, that you will die, your flesh rot, and be forgotten. how any man can make sense of it and live, court, marry, have children, when the world has spun out of control, the three horses are here. the pale horse is coming, it will soon be time to die.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Four_Horsemen_of_the_Apocalypse
Hereshecomes Aug 2019
Murmurs on pillow
throbbing at temples
made of steel
by now.

Hear me out
I said
holding signs
visible to me
and to me
alone.

But silence
is a temptation I can’t resist
as the body trembles
at full throttle
to the beats of innocence

or is it
cognitive dissonance?
Mamolefe Nov 2018
I sip on my green tea
wishing for it to cleanse me.
Wishing for it, to cleanse out the oils and the misery I consume.
Wishing for it to break down my toxins.
Wishing for it ... to cleanse the sections of myself that even I cannot reach.

Green Tea

A substance that supposedly detoxes the belly, but not strong enough to detox the soul

Not strong enough to take away my shadows, my doubt, my ego or my woes.
A drink, not strong enough to hug my spirit at its loneliest hours.
Yet, I sip
.. praying the wet herbs that tickle my tongue shall unlock the gateway, or the path, or the door... to my soul.

So I sip...
And sip...
And sip...

Swallowing it’s brew...and my tears.
801 Nov 2018
Just hours since I learned of the great fall
my childhood enemy has taken.
My heart is shaken in internal squall.
Yet still, there is joy which I partake in

Why feel guilt at such a time, so long sought?
When others still roam the alleys of night;
our nightmare meetings still frequent and fraught.
The terror still real in the broad daylight.

I have been, largely, where she has now stood.
I have ground teeth on the obloquy.
I can’t rejoice now, though I wish I could
**** this infernal anisotropy!

And yet anger smolders at the pylons;
burning bridges and lashing at icons.
A few still remain but I never believed even this much justice could be had. I've learned late of this but it is still hard to decide how I feel about it. I certainly never expected to feel anything but contempt for this person but I can't help but to remember much of what they probably experienced. It's almost like reliving it and impossible to enjoy without unease.
PoserPersona Jun 2018
At night, the city bursts like a still life of a firework,
on the ground with the fun people walking all over her.
Ryan Hoysan Nov 2016
Bite into an apple
It tastes like am orange should
This is confusion.
Hey, I actually kinda managed to write a haiku. I'm proud of this. This is inspired by the way I describe my confusion with calculus. It is as follows: ascribe all the visual and physical properties of an apple to something. It would then follow that since it looks like an apple AND it feels like an apple, that this is an apple and should taste like an apple. But what if it tasted like an orange while still seemingly being an apple? This would cause quite the spat of cognitive dissonance. This is my hell.
Ryan Hoysan Aug 2016
My mind is at war with itself.
Neither side willing to give an inch to the other.

"It's like 2 sides
Of the same coin"

Is that what you think?
Is that what you say?

Well flip that **** coin already,
Tell me how this all plays out.
Take me from this constant hell.

Oh look, it's landed on its edge.
Balancing precariously in the middle, just like me.

Now tuck me back into bed,
I guess I'll just sleep forever  
In this haunting nightmare.
I have a small notebook. I write all my poetry and thoughts here before I do it anywhere else. I write it with the ultra fine tip of a black sharpie. If you open one side of my notebook, all you'll read are happy poems, poems filled with love and joy and hope. But open the other side, and you'll see the results of all that hope, all that love, and all that joy. I know life has its ups and downs but they feel so extreme.
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