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Atypnoc May 2015
I'm not in the hospital, hit by a car
I know I'm not online as much; I'm not far
from finally finishing out my degree!
Ten days til a Bachelor of PSYCHOLOGY!

Though yes, sad to say, the mishap from last night
Proved unsalvageable what took me all day to write.
But after the panic subsided, in spite
Of the loss I decided to invite
a CAN-DO mantra, that today still recite:

"Citing every source
providing claims; unless, of course,
the statements you express
are YOURS. Original.  Then, yes."

Would be no need to cite,
but I digress; I still endorse
vehemently: just reinforce
Pre-existing bodies,
    empiric and peer-reviewed,
Must become one with your own body,
     long before you can conclude
Much of anything; that, at best,
Could be considered misconstrued.
Which I reckon may elicit a subjectively quite rude
Swing at a pitch from your perspective you thought beckoned attitude
So rather than succumbing, and becoming quite contrite,
Just cite every sentence as though you know of no greater delight
 
AAAAAND
For the friends and acquaintances from on-the-line:
Out among ye mulls around an enemy of thine.
And by proxy, or  vis-a-vis? Uh, nemesis of mine?
Either way, it's a PHONEY! I promise I'm fine!

I wasn't mowed down while crossing a street
By a drunk driver; don't buy into this deceit!
When the hell have you known of me to be on the loose,
And outdoors by a street, with no **** good excuse!

Nah, brah; didn't get rek't, not in the ICU,
Anything 80_hospital says isn't true.
It's hard to imagine why someone would do
Such a thing, and hard to try and imagine who...

Nevertheless: til the mocking bird is absconding
Believe none are who they claim if they're responding
With something extreme, but failing to show face
And put shoe on head or something else, just in case

That for reasons beyond rational ways of thought,
Someone's chosen to wreak havoc on the distraught
At least until that jacka$$ sh!# f#@%er gets caught,
Just, my two cents? If they say "no I swear," they're not.
Atypnoc Apr 2015
May where once
      was a tomb
blossom hope
       in this room
                    to resume trust
                    to consume us
       in the peace
       by the warmth
of this bloom
TRS will never die, it's merely sleeping.
Atypnoc Mar 2015
GIVEN ALL THESE
THUNDERCLAPS
I WONDER
WHERE WE LAST
TOUCHING ON THE BACKS OF OUR HANDS
TOGETHER, FALLING
WATCHING AS WE
SPLIT INTO…

I FOUND OUT
THE OWL, SAYS WHO?
AND THE BEARS
AND THE BEARS
AND THE BEARS
AND THE BEARS
THE BEARS
THE BEARS
THE BEARS
BEARS

THERE IS SOMETHING I MUST TELL YOU
UGH

THERE COMES THUNDER
THERE GOES LIGHTNING
STILL I WONDER
IF THEY'RE FIGHTING
I CAN'T HELP BUT ASK MYSELF
WHAT'S THE WORTH

THEN THEY COME
AND THEIR THUMBS WILL
DRAW NUMB,
AND THEY CAN'T SPEAK
THEY'RE DUMB

HERE COME LIGHTNING
HERE COMES THUNDER
THEY'RE STILL FIGHTING
I STILL WONDER
DOES YOUR NUMB GROW-

DOES YOUR THUMB GROW NUMB
FROM HOLDING DOWN
THE MUTE BUTTON WITH YOUR CROWN
AS YOU'RE SCREAMING, SETTLE DOWN
IN YOUR GOWN

WITH THE TEARS
STREAMING DOWN YOUR FACE
AND THE YEARS
LIKE IT NEVER TOOK PLACE
AND THE HEART
NOW JUST AN EMPTY SPACE
AND THE PART
YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT IS, TO REPLACE
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Es_Zi3UahOo
here's the music video.
largely about the past 10months in TC.
Atypnoc Feb 2015
Is the flower first to wilt alluring?
Is ugliness empowered thirst enduring?
And does the **** thrive in it's leeching ways?
Spreading, choking, seeping, seeking prey
first of (hopefully) several collaborative poems with the infamous Sam August
Atypnoc Feb 2015
Once upon a time there was a bend in a tree, which grew among other trees and lay among the rocks covered in mosses of different hues of purple.

The tree with a bend had a heart, which was aching.

Because as it had been growing, among the other trees, up from the ground with the rocks and the mosses, it had been burning…

But it swallowed the smoke and it made all efforts to conceal the fire, and the embers, smoldering…

And while growing and burning, with the grand secrecy eking out from the ground surrounding the roots, into a sort of fog or mist that hazed the acre, this tree took some maligned pride in the secrets she kept.

Because she knew, regardless of any other perception of who she was...she knew there was a fire within her. Whether that fire being a good thing, or a harmful thing, did not cross her mind as of consequence. Because while one is still growing, without knowing of consequences...relativity does not exist. Like Shroedinger’s cat, really.

She took pride that the secret was one of physical threat, one with an aura of risk. One that would not be delighted in by those around her, were they aware. One that in fact may frighten them.
She felt brave.

And she felt clever.

Because the low-laying fog or origin unknown to the rest of those around her, she knew the origin. And for this, she felt clever.

The fire was a hunger insatiable; but deliberate, and bade time. A sick balance was struck between that which could be afforded to burn in secrecy, and that which was necessary to stoke the fire.

And for some time, she believed this agreement was manageable, sustainable, and perfect.

Then, a day came.
Where another tree, once seeded nearby, emerged from the soil.

She found herself proximally closer to another tree, than she had ever really anticipated.
And it was small.

And she realized, how grown already she had become.
The fires inside of her, had burned down slowly over time to the base of her trunk… burned her from the center, outwards, but more so down, to the base, where it festered and expanded and thrived on the emerging’s of her roots.
And it thrived, and it devoured her where she was anchored to the earth.

She beheld her nearby sprouted neighbor...she looked downwards upon him, and she saw how tenderly he was held to the soil, which had ashed somehow from below?

And she realized how fragile this child was, she realized how innocent, she realized how impressionable, and how dependent upon her roots, and her barrier to the wind, he was.

It was here that the realization dawned upon her for the very first time, that the life she had created for herself- and the intricate and meticulously hidden secrets she harbored ****** the fresh child who was planted in her soil, to depend upon the strengths of her roots, the strength that all around her naturally assumed existed.

She became frantic.

Bound by brittle, burning roots to the place she had sabotaged in her own short-sighted impulses to define herself as a mysterious and special tree.

And the fire, which she felt had coexisted as an equal within her, she realized was not with any of her interests at heart.

And that which she had begun so long ago, she could not extinguish, or tame.
And her own damage, pain, inflicted in her decisions still were of little concern to her, but to face that now someone else completely undeserving of any of these consequences would suffer greater than even she: it broke her.

She lacked any plan to remedy, or seek help, it was far past a point where those around her could offer anything to save her, or help her, or quiet the fire, or save the child.

And so she lived on as a slave to the wicked fires gnawing away at her everything, at the air surrounding, of the soil, of the example…

And she died far too slowly, as she watched each passing day those around her living timid tender serene lives of trees

Oblivious in the 'fog'
….and while the young tree beside her came up, but far slower than other trees ought to…

Came up, without solid foundation, roots that were unable to take hold in the ashy soil
came up, feeling the heat from below and beside, but never knowing well enough to realize it was unusual.

The burning tree died too slowly, and she watched the tree born and die from neglect and inadequate surroundings.

And the small tree wasn't even noticed by any of the other trees, because the burning tree was so enveloped in shame and sorrow to even properly acknowledge the presence of the acres newest sapling.

And so, on she burned, every dawn rising upon the fallen, wilted twig beside her, that only she had known.

And her ashes kept any others from ever seeding and sprouting near her.
And as the years went on, the area surrounding her of death and sorrow spread,
And she was alone.

The end.
Atypnoc Jan 2015
Comes quite quickly end denies
     No longer able fantasize
What a fool prioritize
     To feed myself such wicked lies
Overwhelms in tortured cries
     The only love ive known still dies
What a fool, you, I despise
     Feebly I demonize
Oh god agree **** compromise
     Take me instead this ****** surprise
So ******* wrong, internalize
     To walk your shoes arent my size
Someday dunno when realiez
     The good, the bad, and always dies

We all born will live to die
     Be so torn, we'll give our lies
Free to mourn all ****** goodbyes
     Agree adorned with compromise

I'm still here
Do they hear?
By all means what I held dear
Forest falling, no one near
I donno quite how I appear
All I know is we're

Alive
I'm still here
Revive
        good cheer
To thrive
       my dear
The drive
       to steer
Alive we hear

Alive we're here
From What the Shack Means to Me, prompted in November 2014 at www.tinychat.com/theroarshack

— The End —