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There was once a boy
A boy that resembled a toy.
A boy who wore oversized shoes,
Baggy pants and unusual spectacles.

A short stub,
That lazed clumsily around the room,
A boy whose appearance was hardly noticeable,
And presence engulfed.

The poor boy was constantly annoyed,
Teased and bothered.
Thrown around the room
Like the rag he seemed to be.

There seemed no escape,
From terrifying bullies,
That roamed around the school,
Waiting patiently to crush him.

The helpless boy waited,
For the Bully to take him,
Grab him by the shoulders,
And smother his dreams in pain.

One day, however, the boy waited.
He waited patiently
For the bullies to take command,
But they never did, they just walked past.

The lonely boy discovered,
That he pertained an unknown power,
One that left him nameless,
And devoid of appearance.

He knew he was not vitreous,
See-through or transparent.
But he could roam through a room,
Unnoticed, overlooked.

He could run through a clear field,
And go unperceived.
He was able to devour a thousand meals,
And never be blamed.

Such abilities brought wonderful joys,
And grand pleasures,
However such leisure brought
Terrible solitude in return.

The assurance of his safety warmed him,
Knowing he’d be free of harm.
But the gawky boy was lonely,
Devoid of company or charm.  

He roamed the halls alone,
He sat absently in his desk.
And slowly his loneliness
Began to consume him.

He was overcome
by the colorlessness of his pale skin,
The crookedness of his misshapen brow.
He slowly fainted, into a mirrored glass.  

The boy had become,
That he had always been;
Another shadow,
Another gust of wind.

His pale skin disintegrated.
The oversized shoes sank.
His spectacles shattered.
The smirk evanesced.

The boy became,
That which cannot be named.
A light breeze,
A faint whisper.
The clock stops at 6:40 pm local time.

I'm watching through the attic window as the hands stop. The moon's light reflects off ornate gray steel, stopped in precice alignment with faded roman numerals.

Curious, I stand and push up the glass, scan the street below for any signs of movement. Nothing. Nothing's moving.

Standstill.

Then the outline of a falling leaf catches my eye. Heaven only knows where it came from. I certainly don't. It isn't moving anymore, isn't falling as it's supposed to. As I realize what I'm seeing, I notice even more discrepances - things so odd my eyes skipped over them at first: A large brown moth halted in place, wings frozen on a downstroke. Several candles, wicks lit but not burning, not flickering, visible behind my neighbor's curtain.

As I stare at the world around me, eyes wide and definitely not heavy with sleep anymore, my heightened senses tingle. Heaviness travels, did you know? It's physics. Gravity. Something to do with lift, too, I think, chest heaving as invisible bands of iron tighten around my ribs.

Time to sleep...

Thud.

Outside the window, the clock hands turn.

6:41.
I wanted to try a more narrative style with my poems.
Darren Oct 2014
Romping with the wind caroused
Non-hearing inside this film
Metal cage rattle its shocks
As asphalt chips by rubber

Metal lights take gaseous orb
Eaten the fill of pitch
The filaments gyrate inside
Three trapped in transit gait


I hear voices, but not their sayings
Two heads cut by the shadows
And just so would they be one beast
If not for their storytelling
But I am another realm of one cell
One bunk divided to their floor
Where they dance plots of sweet nothings
And I try to shut my eyes


Vacant stare flesh out outside
Away from here in torture
Slipped through the crack of rubber tracks
Like pebbles breaking free

Black road to the black of night
A fabric soft subjective
Comfort by the passing orbs
To slowly dissipate


More non-consequential talk
Buzz like mud inside the gears
That bend and move myself around
But not the illusions created
Past marvels walk the way with me
And act their lives designed
By one whom sits inside a cage
So dark it seems inviting


Stretches patched by tidal waves
The gurgle of the brook
A peaceful key to slip away
Like amber shades in flight

What behind is not ingrained
To forward must we go
The destination set us loose
And me from what I know


Ignoring absorbed each other's ear
So speechless I forgotten
Accompanied to one and all
The things I so create
The calming beat on edge and tire
Sooth tears from pouring down
As better times repeat their flames
Orange with fleeting smiles


New shapes combine removed once
The time has blown the bars
To stone the rubber has its scars
But healing can commence

Breath by sun ensconced in glass
As vague as going path
My thoughts have metamorphosed
To setting of blurry nonsence
Originally written on October 19, 2014.  Eleventh poem for the Hundred Theme Challenge by The-Poetry-Cafe.  Daydreaming in the car can make one relive.
Challenge information: the-poetry-cafe.deviantart.com
Profile: monocephalized.deviantart.com
Theme: Memory
Darren Oct 2014
I shall amend the last line
Give me my sand and water so I can remove such a blight for you

What
You do not wish my hand to slay the crosses and lines?
Have a stain where I wrote my minutes lost forever
And not my original pact?
Then why stay my hand?
Did it occur that as I set my tools to bed
And pick up another tail from the carcass you made me ****
Something like this would not stifle me
And you?

Fine
Have it your way either way you spin my grip
I am only the tangible extension of your whims
Mine are gone with the soul of discarded beast at my table
The thought not crossing my mind to follow its shadow while you stare
Your eyes bore holes into my back until I bleed out the right words for you
And you grant me passage to take my own flight

I shall amend the next line
Give me my sand and water so I can clean such a messy thought for you

Distraction impede the motion of the text
As I am stuck in irons of punctuation you keep shape-changing
Broken out of comma's pauses
And you slap the final periods onto my palms that I can never step from
Blots form on the statements then
And enraged that I resist you start again

Yes
I am listening to what you have said
As my fingers dig trenches into my wrist I hear you
I hear you even when I am given time to sleep
Your orders yet another pain of baring flesh
Shred down to its rawest level by my patience to not depart
In the smallest fraction of clarity as you blink to reset your retinue

I shall amend the first line
Give me my sand and water so I can change such a story for you

Whenever you breathe the final end
Be it in my lifetime or the one I have left to stand you
Let it be that I catch your exhale in a empty inkwell
And trap your toxic soul in the same black that is the colour of your self
I would very much like to chain you to this prison dwelling
Watch as I sit ***** to crack and flex and breathe out your affect

Indeed I know ahead
The present master by my chair guide a tired limb
To make a yay a nay and a day forever
As your telling dawdles into nonsense does it blend
Make friends of enemies and daggers into pens
Must I suffer any longer re-stepping over the same syllables
I will not hesitate to respell a weapon out of my instruments
Originally written on October 16, 2014.  Ninth poem for the Hundred Theme Challenge by The-Poetry-Cafe.  This one reflects how I feel sometimes while writing.
Information: the-poetry-cafe.deviantart.com
Profile: monocephalized.deviantart.com
Theme: Drive.
Darren Oct 2014
You beat against the iron braced
The timbres shake but bolts withstand
As large this door is as it's thick
Your signal still encroaches clear

Sanctuary spouts its shrill
Like bells of rotting brass be tolled
I can tell you weaken more
By every second I lay claim

Some footfalls by the ****** in breath
And every ounce it takes
To think of whether side will draw
Conclusions I foresee

Hushed sobs on other side I hear
Not innocence at all
The tears are caked in ****** acts
As are the palms I fold

They round about and blaze their way
Their curses dark and vile
To wall or line of lancing spears
You are left in ramping free fall

You kick the wood with all your might
Desperation burning high
As I the listener await the fate
Of wolf pack on its hanging prey
Originally written on October 14, 2014.
Fifth poem for the Hundred Theme Challenge by The-Poetry-Cafe.  I am liking the process of knowing what I have to write; let's me get more creative in other areas [though I don't know about this one.]
Challenge information: the-poetry-cafe.deviantart.com
Profile: http://monocephalized.deviantart.com/
Theme: Seeking Solace
Darren Oct 2014
Before me
I feel the hand another placed
Whether it was so long
That the language they spoke was strange
Or near enough to touch
As was what was now
I cannot say

The demarcations by the brush
And knife and palate board were one
But here I know not to see them
Only to experience a part
A portion of the exchange
Like the loss in translation
So a blind man tries

It is one blank and haze from birth
A single shapeless depth
That endured the years into its gut
Among the faces and the shades
Like a flower know not its scent
Nor the ocean its expanse
I am unable to understand

Smooth cuts along their blades
And rows where the bristles gap
I wage the moats of paint and pencil
And take in their edge
Their weight upon the frame
Like I would the wind
How it blows through my stranger tips

One is lost to outside walls
Obstructing none who know to look
To only what is in one's reach
The window ahead
And not the mirrors
Or the mason brick barriers
That belay a soul whom thinks ahead

To other grasp the naked dream
An emptiness materialize
Through one notwithstanding yield
A glass even I can peer through
That drives the same man
The same soul
To the burdens I have been ******

True sight is one that catches sign
The single or a multitude
Infinity befalls the eye
But those who learn to sort their panes
Can feel through its difference
And guess its weight
Even if their worlds are blind
Originally written on October 13, 2014.
Fourth poem for the Hundred Theme Challenge by The-Poetry-Cafe.  I tried this theme with another work, but got something else so here's this one.
Contest information: the-poetry-cafe.deviantart.com
Profile: http://monocephalized.deviantart.com/
Theme: Dark.
Darren Oct 2014
Bench boards are cold with pearly ropes
The fallen necklace by Hera's spite
Goddess ruling blinded for her wrath
To the ruination of nonchalant hopes

The clatter by the loamy soil
Fallen tree sleeves wipe their cuffs
And down goes gold and ocean gifts
Like bronzed fruit ready to spoil

Take rest so bunions softly shrink
Soles harden but where not tread
For a while the eyes freed can wander
To the round white spheres entangled beneath

Traveller of the gutters find
The goddess grace cast down and lost
Until she spies another's cues
For jealous nature opens the blind

Cradled sand in material cloud
By twine of lifethread in love's promise
Feel something in one's aching joints
That mortality alone allowed

That beauty is a shapeless fiend
By generations leave its shell
Until grandchildren take the rot
And call it godsend always been

Ancient mother's coming call
To unsuspecting holder of her art
The timepiece tells a stranger hour
Of where her children look and fall

Wound by the road have stopped their cries
The forest arms detached have warmed
In evidence that life persists
For gone are all that left have lied

In distant stretch she will descend
A foreign face in hourglass
Clutching her string of memory
No recollection in its head

To empty mind she is a ghost
Epitome of something dreamt
And she will float on past glories
With wisdom of the ages host

To empty mind she represents
A gesture given half in hope
That present thought can wrap around
The interaction now dispensed
Originally written on October 11, 2014.
First for the Hundred Themes Challenge by The-Poetry-Cafe on
Originally posted on said website.
Information: http://the-poetry-cafe.deviantart.com/
Profile: http://monocephalized.deviantart.com/
Theme: Introduction.
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