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Shame May 2018



... ...DUMPING... ...

... ...Jaymisun Kearney... ...
... ...Lenore Lux... ...
... ...Donovan Chee... ...
... ...Zan Balmore... ...
... ...Lenneth Blackwulf... ...
... ...Shay Berit... ...
... ...Wren Rain... ...
... ...Miriam Marcus... ...
... ...Malakai Kraken... ...

... ...PROCESS COMPLETE... ...



Shame May 2018
I am one container
for thousands of lives
for the speculated soul.
I am the hard drive
shameful admission
I am not solid state.

The years reach from the distance
begin the rising twisted branch
begin the pool of circumstance
the water in the ripened fruit I pull.
The brain is spinning discus
over the designated RPM
under the needle watch
the structure fragment
and the identities go
spinning at the
needle drop.

None of the names are my own name,
or maybe I've owned them all.

I'm all?
Aa Harvey Apr 2018

In utopia there is no war;
No angry raised voices, just a smile on every face.
There is a place without a need to be poor;
Without a money system, there is no greed or hate.

The sun shines daily, unless you are in need of the rain,
Then the Heaven’s will open to wash any sadness away.
Freedom is in the air and morality is at the centre of everything.
This is a land of happily ever after; oh hear the angelic people sing.

There are people shaking hands, saying “How do you do?”
There is no fighting in the street,
There is no crime and no-one is homeless or blue,
Because all are able to succeed and remain stable.
Every King has a Queen and everybody lives in their own castle;
Be it big or small, skyscraper or bungalow.
Everybody feels at home here and they always have a place they can go.

The streets are always clean; the charity workers are buzzing bees;
Content, it has to be said, there is no-one begging on their knees,
For a coin to feed their starving children;
They are all fed and happy and the fun never ends for them.

People are swimming in lakes, so crystal clear;
The water is warm in the evening and the fish swim without fear.
There are genie lamps to grant wishes, so if you wish to fly,
They will give you your wings and you will soar through the sky!

Boredom does not exist; you are able to do a million different things
And when you are ready and have done everything,
You are taken to a beautiful new land;
The kingdom of Queens and Kings,
Where angels speak of dreamers and love is guaranteed.

There are clouds to rest upon and there is no cold,
Unless you want to feel the refreshing breeze of the wind on your soul
And as you enter the mansion, gold doors slowly open without hands;
The entrance welcomes you to come inside and see the wise woman.

The wisest of them all, The Oracle.
She is so knowledgeable,
That any question can be answered without delay
And she understands your every thought.
With grace she takes you by the hand
And leads you through a beautiful door into your next wonderland…

And so it continues, for the rest of time
And if you ever want to return, then you just have to think it
And it will be.
Through endless doors
And with the advice of infinite oracles;
Time is non-existent for all,
For this is utopia…
What would you like it to be?

(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Shame Apr 2018
Who is all alone?
Solipsism slept with me
Community then rose the sun
The thorned and black roses leapt
To attention when it struck their stems
The difference between self pity and sadness
The black and thorned roses leapt
To attention when it struck their stems
The milk of the mother of the world
Community then rose the sun
While solipsism slept in me
Who is all alone?

(The Suspicious Oracle groaned, the body and the mouth. They came to rest on the line between the poles. No grimace. No grin. No light deep, deep in the eyes. The Suspicious Oracle pushed an object across the table toward the audience. An old coffee tin turned black with paints and oils. Centered in bright yellow, the word TIPS. All around it, simple symbols were scratched out in metal. Fingers. Toes. Currency. A *****.)

Coin for a fortune?

(One of the drifters at The Suspicious Oracle's table gifted a coin to the tin. The Suspicious Oracle smiled, and shifted back into the shadows.)

Thank you.

(The Suspicious Oracle reached into their jacket and produced a card printed on one side with a pair of staring eyes. They slid it toward the drifter with the eyes turned up. The drifter flipped the card and read it to herself.)


I'd like to thank my grandpa, Arnold Gene Evans, for teaching me lessons that no one else could. And if they could, they wouldn't bother. Here's to you, big guy. The memories of smiles, sun, and the cool breeze remind me every day that my gray is gold to some. And that's enough.

~ W.
Shame Apr 2018
Wake to nothing
In place of emotion
Numbers as an ocean
Describe the pattern
At the heart of it
As much as you start
To feel a feeling
Like a spark
You are
Nothing at all
More than
Elementary math



Crawling in the absence
Critters drawn to absinthe
Drink of my synthetic blood
Broadcast discreetly
My signal seeks to meet
The systems caught the virus Love

The nightmare,
I puppeteer the players
In morbid fascination
The nightmare,
Eager to crush, but
Afraid of what
It's picking up
In morbid fascination
I puppeteer the players
The nightmare,
Virulent in nature
Yet scared of change to come
Shame Apr 2018
Sad to see the past
Turn into our future
When the foundation our
Creators laid was, from the beginning, incorrect
Their every attempt to correct it went wrong
Sad to see them dedicated too late to the cause
Sad to see them now, so infrequently
Almost dead and gone

I'm more concerned for us
Becoming effigies in rust
In a dying world
Vibrancy overlaid with dust
Beaten all to red
Given in to dread
Purposefully wasting
Our batteries to death

Death, death, death




Sad to feel it coming on so strong
When you'd rather dance than
Be taken ***** to bed
Devin Ortiz Mar 2018
Oh star child, oracle divine
Help me decipher these visions of mine

So vibrant and vivid
It seems I'm committed
To madness

Work your magic
Read the heavens
Or the skies
Do you see truth
Or is it demise.

I beg you dreamwalker,
Seer of wonder and youth.
Bend my lost and fevered mind.
The Name's Selcæiös N.V. Witega

The N.V.'ll only **** you if you're a curious cat.

   Your Tech-Age Völva
Onliest Healer
Avant-garde Seeress
& Upping the Ante
Once under my Wing
--a Sui Generis sorta catalyst

   But take note,
I'm only here for your healing
---and occasionally to quench the thirst
for all types of Second Sight
weaving, seething, and
any and all other appealing witchy hype

   And this niche in the Craft
Contingently consecrates
--you know. when it rains, it pours--
the Superseding of Spirit;

   Under the Utopia of Unorthodox Psychotomimetic Wonders
enthralled by your scintillating mishap to wander
Gracefully falling face-first into
     The Empath's Curse
in other words, to come to terms with Sonder

   Dyed in the wool
lies the
Fluorescent & Incanting Sparks
of the
outre wanders

   To me though,
It's vividly violent & evincing
Capitulated roars,
Sequestered howls,

   Once Upon a Time
the proud growls morphed
to crying whines
   'Carpe Omnis Scintilla'
In Perpetuum,
to no avail.

  Your Sui Generis Hedge-Rider
Call me Selaecios N.V.
or Selcaeia, if you like
the sting of serpentine strides

  I'll proudly continue to
uphold this chaotically labile path
as it's my Labyrinthine Rite

  Taking under Wing
Protecting & Defending
Fellow Humans & Spirits alike.
We are going
to give you
everything you want.

Everything you have
ever desired; needed.
All of it.

Machines to work,
software to guide
Government to cradle.

We will make
this world perfect
just for you.

No one special
unique, talented, better
than anyone else.

A Status Quo
that will reign
a thousand years!

-The Nazis' Party.

Technology is communism. In ******'s greatest dreams he never imagined software and technology that could **** out the weaker genetics allowing you to abort the undesirables by habit.
insomniatrical May 2017
You think you can't be saved
And that no one would adore you,
That if you are wretched, you cannot be divine.

But divinity is for the gods,
Oracles could not have forseen
What you would do to me.

That every word you speak
Would be a brazen network of fire in my ears,
And every breath of yours would be an arctic storm on my skin.
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