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Whereas, hereafter, here

is relative, meaning related, as in linked,
en-tangled,
tied
to you there now.

Here, we arrive on a time, as all fine stories do.

We step lively, where no angel fears to tread, ever,
as you must know, by now,
ever
is a word's own being manifested in meaning
all the same
to you
dear, as in worth the effort to look for and hold, in the having
state, of meaning,
dear reader, we made history blink.

Missle warfare, in our culture, came before the giant fell.

Shepherds and irrigators used slings, and other throwing
ob jects, sub ject e ject

juxtapose sup-positive positioning, do we think we

or be we? Wu, woo way, woo.

You up for this. It is live, this thread we walk along up
right un aware of wind or rain or storm,

no dry nib scratch, no drip of black on the illumination,
no breeze to blow plains of gold one atom thick

as a leaf, gold leaf, who'dathunk that?

A teller of tales talking to a peacock feather from a carcass
coyotes left by the road.

Ed Teller told me, some things called quantum and strange,
are simple has human beings,
there's the humus part, and the being part.

Art and science, sorta.

The trope is no differnt than when Gulliver was breathed
into our earth wide disneyfied minds,

give peace a chance,
alls, we are saying, is give peace a chance.

And when the boomers are taken down a knotch or two,
a tic, tic, re calibrate

focus
thumbnail, zoom in on the eye in the thumbnail

to the gleem in the eye,

reflecting a Pepsi being poured into a Coke, with a Real Thing,

Giant sticker stuck stickily can't shake it take it oooo

no just any
body, don't you want some body to love? Roar or

was that a flash,
that was a genuine pshahdelic flash back on an out of zone
experience,
who knew? Boundaries are the best parts of bubbles.
If it was fun, you are in fected with a sorta sick humor.
Hannah Noel Nov 2019
My mind is infected.
Something is holding it
Something won't let go.
Something is turning my mind black
My heart black
My soul black.
Save me
Something says no.
Something is taking over.
Don't save me
Don't help me.
Something helps me.
Something is there for me.
I am Something.
Zywa Aug 2019
The student is curious
he cuts in the deceased
according to the surgical guide
as the master he wants to be

Bodies are interesting
to discover during the holidays
and later give explanations
to the other students, in passing

The farmers watch in silence
how man is an animal
a large species of frog
they don't care about science

Oh dear, fresh blood, give me hellstone
quick, take the bottle from your bag
to disinfect the wound, burn it
away to a large black hole

The district doctor shakes his head
how could mister student think
he would have money
for something so precious as silver!
Hellstone is the name for AgNO3 (silver nitrate oxide)

“Otcy i deti” (“Fathers and children”/“Fathers and sons”, 1862, Ivan Turgenev)

Collection "BloodTrunk"
Philomena Jun 2019
You make the jokes and I smile as to say sure
Maybe right
And we move onto another topic is discussion
No harm no foul
But you don't see the tears in my eyes as I fall asleep
You can't feel the weight in my heart very moment of every day
So what can I do besides smile when you kid
Do I dare tell you the truth
That what, I'll never be a bride?
Or that women with psychotic tendencies make terrible mothers?
You ignore my warnings
Simply turn them away
And if only it was that easy
If I could loose them like butterflies on a gust of wind
But I'm like an infection you've caught
I'm toxic
I have violent nightmares
Both dreaming and awake
I can't dance or cook or be anything you hope to have
So I don't know why you continue to hold on
Although I hope you never let go
But that's what infections do
Until they **** you
I'm sorry love
Isabel Aghahowa Mar 2019
here comes a heart
from the centre of the crowd
it came without a siren or a warning call
and like a lost dog without its golden tag
it had no owner to wait for at night

like a floating virus
or like an angry child
you didn’t quite know how to handle its intentions
so you lay awake
not knowing whether it will create even more severe
bitter winters
and minted tears
for the morning sun to dry up

you lay awake in fear of this raw heart
not knowing what lies its going to tell
or what truths it will unearth
but you stay in its rogue company
not knowing the next time you will feel warmth
without the help of sirens
or warning calls
Em MacKenzie Feb 2019
I always hear the old saying
“cut off the limb.”
Unfortunately,
my heart convinced my mind
to allow the infection to evolve
and grow into a whole new limb
that became a toxic person.
Ugh
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
Forwards and fore words are cult if ations, (cultureshapen)
words we would find mean more

than their idle kin dread, (a play)
if we had been reared
starting now

A push from behind,
God put padding for a reason,
Mrs. Marshall said. Second grade.

A word, to the wise, is enough.
Acculturation.

That's the clue that leads to leaven,
and a little leaven...
you know, or say you do, of course,
we've known yeast
resurrects in our bread, for eons and ages,
Good Lord.

We know how things work.

If we be honest,
some,
a little bit, we know how things work.
Sayin' hon, I ain't sure I know what honest was.

To tell the truth, I don't suppose anybody knows,
wit'out attention's terrible price,

secret price, only the paid and payer know it, ever.
Sacred makin', sacrifice,

that's a one time deal, for real.

A mortal man can't know until he dies if he unbelieved all his
lies, but his try's are said to give him some -umph,

----
What manner of men are we that it is given unto us

to be? That is an answer worth paying attention to chase, per
haps. Not, to be or not to be, what choice, before now? You know?

Remember, we asked. Together, we agreed,
that greed will draw us to the treasure,

do you mind my taking greed from agreed and making it work.

it does work. it is an essential elemental,
desire is another word they use, but that gives it more
purpose than greed, and calls for more minding of the process.

Once a reifying action has begun we must maintain our equilibrium,
or
find ourselves falling, once more, into dis-traction
on life's slipper *****.

Slipper-iness has meaning.
Ask any little princess planning to grease her foot with KY.
It can be good or bad, not good or evil.

Squeeks from the audience, sometimes signal gasps,
as agap is crossed, like a spark,
mnemonical daemonic algorythms, those ain't bad you understand?

The Intelligence in Re-al, 's'no accidental instance of order over chaos that just cain't quit,
that ain't it.
Geeks as you know geeks,
Gates, Jobs, 'nem, A. I. Imagineers,
did not write this algorithm of life, as it turns out,

The Idea of God seems not to have needed help
designing a safeground,
where kids can play.

Sam Harris axed me, vicar-iously, Do you believe in literal
re-sur-rection of some formerly
living thing/ any?

Yes, yeast, I do. It seems dead, only our knowing it's not
and proving other wise de-ifs the possibility it's dead, now alive.

It's like that cat box, Schrödinger has.
Anything is possible, God knows, Jesus even said so,
wit' God, all o'this is possible,
save lying and dying and failing to be good for me.

Living, it seems, is the deed we do
to prove living forever is worthy of trying,
happily ever after, starting now,
if you wish to stay mortal and never know,

you can't.
You know you die, so you die.
Forever,
that goes on.

It's hell to try that with no triumph in sight.
Alone, especially.
I heard the phrase Jesus Bomb during the JBP/Sam Harris talk on youtube. I thought it might be fun to make one. If you notice, the poems posted here, byme, time as proven flow together onward.
sky Oct 2018
It bursts out of me
from deep in my core.
Tendrils of smoke and life.
They fill the air with the scent of ash and lavender.

Tears of blood drip off of my face, splashing on the ground,
creating a pool in the room I stand in.

I hold out my hand, thin veins are drawn on my skin by
the energy around me.
A deep red.

My hair dances around me in static,
dead roses litter the floor.
I welcome you into my arms, to welcome the disease into your lungs.
But this one isn't like the others.
This one is different.

A sickness that gives you the strength to stand up,
the ability to be yourself.
I've already let it in, I've already opened myself up.

So I'll ask once more:
Are you infected?
Inspired by new album by Aurora Aksnes, "Infections of a Different Kind"
the children
these mere babes
trust the adults
yet the adults
betray their trust
and do unspeakable things
that repulse decent people
within a society

the children '
aren't safe
the children
aren't secure
in the hands of men and women
who are so
impure

the children
cannot fully blot out
what has been done to them
the sullying of their bodies
and the distressing of their minds
stays over a lifetime

the children
need
the law's protection
from the
predator's
filthy infection

the children
suffering
the horrific assaults
which leave
repugnancy's
marring results
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