Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I disassociate to my "friends" lives scrolling by,
I don't need any spliff or fungus to reach
Peak apathetic  non self congruence.
Watching years pass by in seconds
Is all the psychedelic room temperature
Mental priming for my primate mental
That I could ever hope for

Before being snapped back out
By the cubed carrot reward of
Internet interaction
Which keeps me salivating and searching
For ways to increase the amount of time
I don't have to associate with that guy inhabiting my body
For a while I can see my problems as goners
Being slowly erased from my mind like a magnet over a hard drive

Until a kindly panic attack reminds my of
My lack of lack of control
And the selfless self centered guilt keeps me
Wishing I were working instead of living
Who could be so audacious
As to propose a life out side
Jon Thenes Jul 12


I’m no good at merrymaking
I do it alone
I do it dark
And I go at it with rabid excess
I am fellow to it
Until morning
And I make the morning hurt
A mark is embed


Amoungst great company
I am dog unwanted
In the comapany of one
I am villain bird
I am influence
I hit a drinking partner in the weak knees of weak truths
And things go madly south
But tonite I am alone
As I ought
And not sought out


Astray from the fireside
Into the woods
In the territory
Where I fear to thread the pathways
I shall recover my work
In the graven woodland
I shall face myself down
And bed darkness
Where I am truely wed


Thriving and well hausted
I strain and clamp upon the energy
I face my enemy
My power
I bide from his readings
I make ****** pleasings
Form verbal greeting
And extend a hand
For this
The first of many a meeting


Upon this connection
This Faustian reflection
I make the primal
The woe in me
And the red wash of ravenous pages
My activity
My moulded tool
My rage
My howl against creativity
sol May 21
Laid down, the only answer that can be given.
Clearer light, separate and distinct, from the same fountain.
Ambition, to counteract ambition.
Human nature, to reflect on human nature.
Angels were to control itself.

Divide and fortify. Natural defense, safety. Absolute negative connection between this weaker and the weaker.
All the power surrendered.
Evil will render This, turned against, broken into.
Justice is the end, pursued until it be obtained, or lost in the pursuit.
Unite and oppress, anarchy to rein as a state of nature,
not secured against the violence.
modus operandi. i was told this piece seemed very Feral
Oskar Erikson May 11
slip pin g  out of vie w
                                  the words elude.
  so keep there
the                 eyes
at paper or/// screen till the sentence---- rushes into sight.    
              break it.
                        ^^                  butcher it.
     keep it.<<      >>  analyse it.
  toss it .                                         kiss it.

where w a  s it?                  was it ee ee e even here?

a tremor in the night
awoken without the memory
(all poets say is a million different "I can't love you any other way.")
of a line i wanted to write.
Lua Mar 27
They say that the human being is a primal creature
That deep down likes to bite, to scratch, to hunt
Mark their own territory
And like so many other primal animals, feels this intrinsic pleasure in subduing others

People say many things
But in my world, pleasure and pain mix together
Primal creatures show their claws
For others willing to be subjected

I once heard that *** becomes human from the moment it becomes ******
For me however, eroticism doesn't depend on ***
And the primal is the most human and the most civilized of them all
Just like the ones that look at me right now
They see my movement and judge me feline
Sharp claws, curious look, precise movements
And I don't even need to show my fangs into a smile
For them to understand who the predator is
After all, as I already mentioned
Pleasure and pain mix
You use to sneer at me,
As if you were better than me,
You use to look down at me through soft lashes,
You smoked so you could slowly choke me with ashes,
You would say "Without ME you are NOTHING",

Well I might not be much, but I AM something,
I will not stand in your shadow, I'll cast my own,
I won't let your self loathing deliver me into an early grave stone,

Although I must admit I crave the feeling of your flesh upon mine,
I want to slide your taste over my lips like fine wine,
Im slightly disgusted by this need to satisfy this primal hunger inside  me,
My body betrays me while an unnatural lust brings me to my knees,
The only good thing about you was your ability to ******,
Only through carnal cravings could we call a truce,

You thought that if you could make my body feel good I would need you,
You would tell me that the only thing I was good at was laying beneath you,
You tried to dig me up so that I couldn't bloom where I was planted,
You thought those fevered desperate kisses would keep me enchanted,

I left because I got tired of your lust games,
we don't share anymore perverted love claims,
When I think of you now I snicker, too no one in particular,
I liked how you were twisted and ******,

But thats all I liked about you,
Its funny how I was so drawn but also so repulsed by you,
I guess that means that I'm a little sick too,
I don't regret it though, cause then I'd have to admit that a part of me cared,
Try not to mourn the wicked temptations that we shared,

I'm fine on my own, are you;
stopdoopy May 20
"It Comes At Night"
(Desire) First renewed
Under the silver light (of the moon)

"A Quiet Place"
(A) Fatal Attraction
There will be blood (he hopes)

Venom (drips from his tongue)
(as he forces open her) Jaws

(the) Heat
"Let Him Have It"
Primal Fear (is all she knows)

"The Usual Suspects"
Goodfellas (they claim)
(making her play) The Game
A poem made from movie titles
Nat Lipstadt Feb 2014
The Sounding Foam of Primal Things

*(The title and the poem, taken from and inspired by
Carl Sandburg's "Who Am I?")

wind and rain pound the surf.
snow falls on the beach, on the shore.
man-observer cannot tell:
has the earth gone mad, all wet?
do the seas rise, whipped up, filling the heavens,
or does the white rain replenishes the very body,
from whence it came, and now returns?

this matters greatly, yet nothing answers this, his question.

the furious soundings, the green foam churn,
the silence of no response inebriates,
drunk on the tempest's hard wet liquor,
weighed down, sodden with the despair,
solitude, silence, absent answers,
his natural walking companions!

No Stopping signs on almost every corner,
Do Not Pass, Do Not Enter,
One Way, Two Way, No Thru Passage,
but the one sign he seeks,
"Stay On The Path" absent.

dispassionate endings,
the essential quietude among
furious surround-sounds of creative destruction
he ceases to ask, for unanswered, undirected.

their is no one listening, or,
there is no one caring, or,

illusion is truth,
he is an illusion.

Who Am I?
By Carl Sandburg

My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of
     universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I
     reach my hands and play with pebbles of
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs
     reading "Keep Off."

My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive
     in the universe.
Next page