Laura Dec 2017

there's this jellyfish
stuck in my head
he swims there day and night
and lights up the dark
inside of my skull
a bioluminescent, fluorescent jellyfish
swollen and pink
he likes to shock me
lighting up the dark
inside of my skull
he has long, coral tentacles
they squeeze around my brain
and he hugs it
and pretends to be a part of it
I think he gets a little lonely up there
if you ask me
no one to talk to
in the dark inside my skull
there's this poor,
poor jellyfish
stuck in my head
who swims laps around my brain
as though the space in someone's head
could ever be as good as an ocean
perhaps someday I will set him free
perhaps I will crack open my skull
and it will no longer be dark inside of there
pink will spew out
a large mushy brain
with a jellyfish attached
his long, coral tentacles
will claw at the air
like tendrils of bubblegum
until someone brings him to the ocean
where he belongs
there's this jellyfish
stuck in my head
and he's very confused
because my head looks nothing like an ocean

mint Dec 2017

our relationship was notifications
banners I expected daily, without fail
ones that made my heart skip a beat
every single one i counted in my mind
they fell like coins in a jar, the clank- a smile

they morphed over times and months rolled themselves tighter and tighter, crushing us in its grasps

every time i see a notification
it’s not from you
i know
it’s almost never from you
and the coins in the jar have cracked it with each fall
and the shards dig into my heart every time i see
it isn’t you
i don’t know how to stop hoping that you’ll come back to me
that maybe one day i’ll get more notifications and it’ll be from you and-
i’ll smile
smiles seem so foreign to me now
what i do know is that it hurts

every notification that isn’t you is stabbing, twisting
and i turned them all off after I finally swirled into nothing but a cloud of pain
and i played music so loud i hoped it would crack through my skull
and i let myself dance
and forget

so what were we in the end?
just a mass of notifications

how did they string together so well?
how did they fix themselves into a shape that convinced me to fall in love?

and how did they give themselves so much power
that now i feel myself disappearing bit by bit every time i see them

i’ve almost grown afraid of them

that’s all we were
and they themselves
omens of pain

but maybe that’s all we were too

Hey long distance sucks and she didnt love me enough to stay so i guess i’ll die lmao

Despite countless factorial permutations
and combinations, this cyber surfer
avails two alms
(one from alma mater, thee other

handily gifted from alma papa)
seeking succor asper sum er set Maugham
mull eight mom mee whiz sic cure ring
(via chemotherapy and radiation) human bondage,

boot metastatic carcinoma snatched away
futuristic pharmacological balms
so glad experienced being tethered
in utero umbilical connection
and this brother smothered and overly mothered,

etched bromide, which hankering calms
embryonic sensation this corporeal being lacks
constantly subjected to exams
from hard school of hard knocks

which i bewail sets back and gloms
mine aim to revel in blissful contentment
but circumstances decrees otherwise
cursing this chap tubby haunted

by veritable elfin grotto dwelling phantoms
hovering over sweet clover dials a mirage
yes...iris sieve blurbs from gals and two guys
that span the World Wide Web, and exude

premature ejaculatory ecstasy, puzzled if fie
totally tubularly trod a tedious trek
along the boulevard of broken dreams
what happenstance oft finds thyself to flail
amidst difficulty to maximize

optimal opportunities searching for Holy Grail
or whatever constitutes such lofty
personal objective, perchance being hale
and hearty of body, mind and spirit

spurs the furies of fate tut test this primate
while he aims to gallop with mighty industrial
vim and vigor leaving a virtual soundcloud
of dust, though mindfulness helps
to pass go, and chance avoid jail

time, then maybe monopolized feedback offered
to this toothless mwm quasi-vegetarian
enjoying poetry stone soup, yet also subsisting
on supplementary vitamin packed glue tin free

NON GMO gluten free
fruity tall tales for a male
forty-two years shy
sans Bing a centenarian,
which span of life best cut short with a nail
(possibly nine inches) hammered into
faux coffin, cuz this imp doth turn pale

at the prospect to fill up a space of land
best utilized by birds - such as quail
Mongoose, or ibis (though aye n'er saw
one), where cremated ashes sail

across some verdant plain under
cerulean skies putting to rest every travail
which thoughts of dem eyes spells
relief since homelessness -

therein lied the rub
but dove vine intervention    
cooed not comb sooner
main impetus explaining this rambling spiel

(since completion a moot point
since amazing grace smiled)
the warp and woof ova gauzy veil
imperceptibly looms closer upon
turrets of my digital sea faring gun whale
and thus desperation finds pleading salvation.

(since completion a moot point
since amazing grace smiled)
before mine danse macabre
doppelganger draws dagger

punctured skein tight
as a yank key notched belt
housed within mine impenetrable
hermetically sealed invisible bubble
drapes with blackened

Hades hued habiliment therein dwelt
sinister saboteur mastermind
marauder of Hubble
piercing fiery ocular rift
presence unseen but felt  

demands sacrifice once
into bowels of Hades
force at Devilled Pitchfork
to traverse river Styx
with unadulterated gelt,        
which known phantasmagorical double

diabolical self amidst aftermath
from Armageddon rubble
astride charred global ruins
entire civilization melt
planetary paroxysm

prognosticated by Maya sages
with 11th hour stubble
birthed Darth Vader nemesis  
evil upon earth he did pelt
annihilating mankind,

the derelict species that fueled trouble
hence evil twin appointed
apocalyptic malevolence spelt
desiccation, humiliation, and laceration
upon once verdant veldt
with mass crematorium desecration
left horrific blistering welt.
Tan Sichuan Countdown

to Homo sapiens extinction
predicted millenniums in past
to occur December 21
two thousand and twelve

(that date elapsed without incident
but beware unexpected    
cataclysmic circumstance)
after con comma tinted common era,

whereby catastrophic spark
detonating inferno incinerating blast
eradicating extant flora
and fauna bereft sans hegira
with no means to interrupt the die
since the dawn of civilization cast.

Impossible to escape
ominously predetermined quaking
fate of human rat race
nor turn back hands of time

with origin of species on clock face
thus ticking closer to hour of doomsday
without faith to brace
allowing, enabling and
provide Gaia to redeem terrestrial space

vestiges of teeming billions soon graced erased
criminal minds without a trace
forcefully relinquishing simians
planetary stranglehold amazing grace
proffering tabula rasa
for another dominant species
to claim the place.

Sirens promulgate emergency
toward impending inescapable cataclysm,
yet no place to run or hide
lest one boards rocket light-years away,

which makes suspense thrillers
birthed by John Grisham
enviable plot to keep
total Earths’ destruction at bay.

mice elf, a lifetime americaonline
Meme bur hastens to convey dire
crisis sparking
to offer electric nom de plume
Harris40tude a papa who did sire

deux darling daughters,
yet for ages hive stung
with hurt early, whence fatherhood did fire
meow n childhoods' end fostering people

strangers fork get dish
comb bob yule hated communication,
per S0S sprinkled with awe shucks corny,
Egret - letting opportunities
take flight aspire,

now pleasures soft
as gossamer feather bedding
down play hardened
angst riddled psyche, where ire

Ronny gully stubbornly thrives
amidst adversity as father time spins gyre
row scope at greased lightening speed,
intimating with dead reckoning to hire
grim reaper, who whiz patient

as Job, and exemplary at ridding mire
and muck bogs down this dada robbing
existence with joie de vivre, where funeral pyre
doth flickr-beckoning GoDaddy, cuz

Juno I haint gonna hear angelic choir
or equivalent enlightenment re:
home sweet home, this atheist doggedly tire
so haim trying keep sea legs
one step ahead of tipping point
envision self pitched into abyss, thus end of wire.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
now, asper that unwelcome deathly still intruder
tis thee demise of life i.e. known
(among other names) as grim reaper
accompanied by ghost of
John (toot till loo to you) Bankhead Magruder.

sunprincess Nov 2017

Last night, Halloween night,  gasp
A phantom skull peers through my window
Alas, with a smoky ambience, an eerie glow
Watches me sleep, and sleep, and sleep
And dream, and dream, and dream
My guardian, a phantom skull

EmDictado Nov 2017

with the raging wind
as our enemy
you threw the rope
down at me
i clung to it
tightening my grip




i climb

midway through the ascent
confusion washed over me
for i expected you to continue
pulling me up

gently and hesitantly
i tugged at the rope
to call your attention


you never bothered to look down
and I never
ever bothered
to hold onto anything else
beside the rope
our rope

it was too late to see that I was falling
and broken bones
are just one
of my many shattered pieces

only after i was ashes
did I understand
why the highest soar
has the most painful drop

-i can still remember how both my skull and heart crack open

Dan Oct 2017

Paul was very tall
and now I have his skull
that’s not what this poem is about at all

Relax it’s a replica
given to me as they were cleaning out the office of a surgeon
did it really belong to someone?
Paul is that you?
He wears my glasses as I write
at times I’ll glance at him to the left of the laptop screen
pretend he’s watching
interested in what it is I am writing “Care you hear about this line?”
I’ll ask. No reply. He keeps to himself, or is simply ignoring me.
Deep cavities stare out, jealous of the mug or can,
more often than not containing caffeine, some sort of personal buzz,
the elixir for the page,
Hemingway’s tactics aren’t for everyone,
is there anyone famous for tea yet?

Paul has perfect front teeth, on the top at least,
he’s missing a couple on the bottom
along with one of his molars. What happened Paul?
Did you not brush enough?
A sweet tooth is a hard habit to break, it needs to be quenched,
much like the helpless need to fill the page day after day.
Classical music always plays during the sessions,
Paul likes piano almost as much as alliteration.
If he still had his hands I imagine
he’d have a million views by now,
just as many likes,
but still working a job outside of his passion to pay the rent,
much like everyone else. He’d come home from work everyday,
around five or so, sit at the piano, one given to him by his grandmother,
left to him in her will,
he wouldn’t get up from the leather covered bench
for hours, to him in the moment those hours feel like seconds,
from that bench he’d create masterpieces, rhapsody in every color,
the type of music people listen to while creating other forms of art,

the background to the inside of their minds.
There’s a replica of a brain inside of Paul’s skull.
It can be removed and taken apart, you can see where Paul kept his memories,
his passions, his regrets.
Being only a replica it’s clear, made of rubber, it’s all there though,
everything that made Paul Paul.

Gabriel burnS Aug 2017

Don't keep this
hidden inside
behind the windows
beneath your eyelids

You shy away
from the flare
in my gaze,
the light bulb
in your room,
lit blindingly
between the
osseous walls

My parents didn't want me.
My peers couldn't stand me.
I didn't give a fuck
About School.
So, I thought that Dope was the answer.
I came to Denver,
But no one would hire me,
And I couldn't afford the Rent.
I started pick-pocketing from Tourists
To afford the Dope I was smoking
While I was living on the Streets.
One day,
I made a mistake.
I tried to steel a wallet from the back pocket
Of a big, muscular Mexican Dude.
I didn't really think of it
As poor judgement.
I just needed the Dope.
He pounded my face into the pavement
And smashed my skull into the concrete
As his horrified girlfriend screamed.
The Paramedics took me to Denver Health
Where I was diagnosed with a fractured skull.
I was taken into Surgery
And stayed in the Hospital for Four Months.
I was finally let out in a wheelchair
And was given a subsidized apartment.
Little by little,
I'm learning to walk again,
And I got a job at Wendy's,
But I don't think I'll
Dabble in Dope
Any more.

Traveler Jul 2017

Every ring needs a leader
He's not a "con man" just a cheater
Every junkie needs a pusher
She's a lover not a hooker

As these gutters open wide
Feel the lust, you're still alive
Allow his words upon bare flesh
Close your eyes and hold your breath

Open up and let it out
Hum, moan, scream or shout
That's what living's all about

Every ring needs it's leader
He's a Poet with a one track meter

Traveler Tim
About no one in particular... (-:
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