lady i swear by all flowers
Ph'nglui mglw'nafh
Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn

I hear America singing
    The varied carols I hear,—
A killer bee that's stinging
    My inner inner ear.  

I see you, Allen Ginsberg, in a supermarket in California,
fondling nakedly a pair of hairy kiwis,
smoking a cigarette with dirty fingers and a gratified expression,
fantasizing about Walt Whitman fantasizing about grocery boys
     fantasizing about free bananas,
farting windily from your often-plugged-up-with-cocks asshole,
smelling like the unvenilated bathroom at Joe's Greasy Sandwiches,
squeezing goop from a volcanic & holy pimple on your forearm,
weirding out the children who see NAMBLA written in your eyes,
scandalizing the squares who can't handle their fruit in public,
waiting for the police to come give you a happy ending.
Happy Fourth of July!
vanessa fonseca Oct 2017
Spinnin and spinnin
Head breaks off into a branch
The ends of my fingertips thin out
I am dense in the middle: thin around the edges: i can feel myself melting away.
He told me
Ill meet you there, but someone will hurt you when the time is most wrong
vanessa fonseca Oct 2017
my heart broke and spilled on the highway

i dont have any interactions with ppl that are not customer service interactions
im lonely.     feels like my brain is just logged off.
with an axe i start to work throoo my leg
my brains just off
1 million dollar winner
oh my brains just
   wont go on
i hit a pothole, pop my tire and
lose control
911 how are you today im amazing cuz I love life
im laying in the woods and i can't fall in love
with a  hammer i work at my head
til its far gone
h b r Apr 2017
new born
born new
to a world wide
with nails fine smooth
round like shells
little hands that shudder as they curl
hold me tight i will hold you
i will pearl you
between rough hands
between a box of black and white light
inside this frame i will keep you
born new
and sweet like water
brush love over my skin your skin is
so light and your eyes ripple
as the sun does when it spills over
the blurry horizon
like water over the brim of your hands
red and brilliant yellow
and cagey orange
and then it's autumn and you
are still new
and your voice could raze even the taller trees
the peeking birds hear your
warble they drop from the
branches dripping and dropping
puddles of whistles & beaks & birdnails
this is a feathered rainstorm growing growing
growing up
which is hard
i can’t make it easy only
the oysters crack open and
daylight shines softly down
to the sea floor
you lie there on the black rocks
lie in my hard hands
lie to your mother and tell her you don’t
love her (she tries to say it back)
but do not lie to everyone about everything
and especially certain things
it's what i did and it made growing up
something awful dark and
i ask again do not
sink to the bottom of the sea
coming up for air makes breathing easier
but not easy
jdotingham Mar 2017
[locked in the box, my secrets die a life]
schrödinger's cat, he sings, we shall never know his strife:
the simple insecurity to the infuriating situation
is pandora will release the demonstration.

[locked in the box, my secrets die a life]
following the maps of the mask of my disguise:
the complex presentation of the penetrating situation
is that hope will diminish in chaotic creation.

[locked in the box, my secrets die a life]*
four walls with no doors (to trap) and philosophize:
*the impending sensation of the sympathetic situation

is that Sisyphus will parallel our little recreation.

But before the box is opened and the cardiac is broken,
a crossroad will be a p p r o a c                                  hing.
What hurts more? The thorns in motion/
                                or lack of map tokens.
Till then, the lies are never dead, nor spoken.
d.d. #69
- inspired by Lord Byron and E.E. Cummings.
jdotingham Dec 2016
real eyes
real lies
                                  fake disguise.
to hypnotise
d.d. #10
jdotingham Dec 2016

d.d. #nonumber.
Max Watt Dec 2016
Chased alone by Exterior Judgment he found himself face to face with The Mirror,
Its surface winked at him, but the person who stared back from within did not.
And then came his Interior Judgment. He asked of The Mirror,

“Phase me out,
Obfuscate me,
Obliterate this judgment I feel.
Make me concrete
against which solitude will
beat its relentless fist
so that I will no longer bleed or bruise”

And so came his christening, the depth of shallow water.
For years he paddled and splashed there knowing his time would come,
Because this was where real pleasures lurked, just beyond his reach.

“Cloak me here,
Keep me invisible to all,
Except those who matter,
And then take me blindly to my coffin”

And one day, while he lay in the pool, he felt the world’s foot on his back,
And he gasped for air, though for what use he didn’t know.
Years later when he finally captured his breath, the only words left were:

“Make it stop.
Make it stop.
Make it stop.”

And now he stares back into The Mirror and the Mirror glares back.
And he wonders who he could’ve been.
Where all those years had been spent.
jdotingham Nov 2016
i live for my lips against your lips
                                                          ­i'd die for my head against your head
i live for my skin against your skin
                                                          ­i'd die for my smile against your smile
i live for my heartbeat, heightened by yours
                                                         ­ i'd die for my laughter, intertwined with yours
i live for my eyes against your eyes
                                                          ­i'd die for my climax against your climax
i live for my lover and you live for yours**
                                                         ­ *i'd die for you lover, the uncaused cause.
jdotingham Oct 2016
You are not simply just beautiful; you O
                                                               ­        O
                                                               ­            Z
                                                               ­                E    aesthetic.
You are not simply just aesthetic; you are (morally and Psychologically)
                                              ­                                        Fascinating...
You are not simply contained; you B U R S T out of the box whichbindsus.
You are not simply. Put. Simply.
Humans are not simple, we are more complex than any line of code and any work of art, and even the most simple of people. Is still beautifully complex.
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