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BAD KARMA Nov 2020
The noctambulist's ramblings hold a truth
Under a deceptive cloak of nuanced nonsense
Unspoken and void in conscious code
By daybreak, our masks fall into monotonous stare
And smooth the creases where signs of laughter once sat
The dull ring of our once vibrant lives
Replicates rawky pink noise
Oh, the time we wasted - wishing for greener grass
We held the keys to the kingdom in our own eyes, alas!
We wore a skin that placed us at the summit of imaginary pyramids
Elevated above the animals and unable to see our vicinal reflections
In all things great and small
Man's exile of his self worth was the birth of his hubris
And the trigger of his nemesis
Descending from the sky
But somehow landing on his feet
In the absence of even a cry
Bad Luck Nov 2019
It's the same familiar road,
Dark and slightly paved,
Toward which my soul drifts at nighttime,
Pulled by nearly broken chains.
Sleepwalking to find some danger
Where, among the chaos, it can feel
A little less like a stranger;
Around the blind side of a curve.

While I sleep, it finds a way
To - despite my slumber - travel.
Laying down, and replaying how
Life and death, seemed to briefly
                    Stop their battle . . .
And rest so soundly,
Sprawled out, side-by-side,
Strewn 'cross the roadway's gravel.

           - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Each morning I awake
And to the same spot I've returned,
Laying next to my soul, in wait,
For a lucky car to make its turn.
I stand up, and spark a cigarette
-- click --
Just to watch the orange light burn.

        I inhale the noxious gases,
        As a car skids, and passes.
        I start back home with a shrug,
        And flick the ashes to the masses,
        Burn some bibles, and break some glasses.
        And as the rain soaks to my skin,
        It corrodes the memory like acid.
"Bad Luck: In a Wakeful Contradiction" is now available on Amazon in paperback!

Jake Welsh Nov 2019
the blue glow of the television screen
mimicked the moonlight through the car window
where sat, Kate and i, in silence, watching
after a day gone that began with my name and hers

continued on until her slumber
whilst a lunar halo around me kept me walking in the night

the Georgian oak canopy hangs around like aurora borealis
i’ve never noticed it before
from "salve" 2019
available @:
Laura Utter Dec 2018

I always hated the sound that door made.
Whether you closed it fast or slow, the sound of the creak was always the same.
A signal, warning you not to proceed.

But you weren’t scared, you’ve done this many times before, to where you can’t remember,
and the hand holding yours, is a hand you’ve held before.

And the cement steps that led to the darkness,
felt warm and so welcoming.
It felt a little bit like coming home.
That’s all I remember.

It is here I woke up
The silence awoke me,
My feet were wet and cold,
my hand no longer recognized the hand that I hold.
As if it felt that moment I realized I’m in danger,
The hand would disappear, and I was left alone.

I was frozen.
I started to scream but nothing came out.
I shook from my fear and dashed towards the stairs, as if in danger.
I always expected something to pull me back.
The door felt so far.

Sometimes you have to remove the noise
and listen to the silence

to awaken from the dream
you thought you were living

Written: August 1, 2018

All rights reserved.
Skaidrum Jul 2018

this pain is white noise
sleepwalking through this body-
in search of heaven.
Of the haiku series
**. folding statues.

© Copywrite Skaidrum
Elm Jun 2018
The eyes look, but I see
The skin touches, but I feel
The nose sniffs, but I smell
The ears listen, but I hear
The tongue licks, but I taste.

So observation proves another.
A silent partner,
Silent until prompted
Waiting... and acting
When conscious eyes of experience aren't there to catelog being.
When all seems to flow naturally
I am not there to reflect
And no memory of my own can reveal
My lucidity.
An acting unconsciousness leaves awareness wanting.
Äŧül May 2017
The English Miss,
She was teaching tenses,
And suddenly my benchpartner,
He stood up and went out of the door!

"Such a daring darling!"
She exclaimed while looking at the door,
She made no attempts to prevent him,
"Was getting bored & walked away!"

I shook my head in negation,
Clicked my tongue crisply,
And I had her attention,
So I added jeeringly...

*"Miss English -,"
"- He did not get bored,"
"He wasn't even listening!"
"He was just sleepwalking!"
My HP Poem #1546
©Atul Kaushal
Anyone else feel like they're
dreaming their lives away?

Anyone else sick of sleepwalking
through every day?
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