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I am a caricature of humanity
- a picture of its seething bowels.

I am its sloshing,
quivering, yet wholly earnest intestines
made manifest - I am,
the inside-out freak show
we all crave
dancing before your eyes
oh, and what a feast of eloquent gizzards you witness!

Feast your eyes, my friends!

I am what you wish you weren't
yet know you could be
as you yearn to be as free as me
all your shame and volatile desires
all your sadness and madness
all your dreamful bliss
I profess it daily
in an ode to you, my fathers and mothers,
in an ode of love for absurdity,
I am the cartoon character made free of its stage
the puppet made free of its strings
the loon, made free of his rage,
a benign insanity,
not capable of harming a germ.

Don't pass by
by all means
it's my pleasure that you do so
breathe my callousness in
shudder at the thought of being so exposed
having all your human nature bleeding there
like my crying eyes
as I tell you of all my past loves
and how I still love them
even the meatloaf
still eating it
that baby towel
still snuggling it
that algebra homework?
Still completing it
and there's a missing grade somewhere
in a dusty book in a warehouse
how I'd creep in,
decades from now,
hours before my death,
open that tattered grade-book,
pen myself an A+ for my immaculately completed work
- fist pump the air!
Take that Ms. Cramsworth! I may not have beaten algebra,
but I beat you!

Die right there
in that warehouse
amongst all the other freaks.
There's Bigfoot, who slipped accidentally one day, got impaled by a branch, then called 911 - he had no health insurance, that's all she wrote. Bigfoot's just another disenfranchised-American statistic now. Bigfoot's last painful hours were spent taking selfies with holocaust deniers and people fashioning MAGA hats - some with rifles for effect - it was then Bigfoot regretted voting for Trump and only then. You were just rudely-awakened from having sympathy for Bigfoot, weren't you? Poor baby. Save our souls.
Then there are the cryogenically frozen heads of the Illuminati we're all worried about - they're trying to sleep until humanity can make them superhuman bodies.
A flying saucer that was alien in so far that it was actually a time-machine from our distant future that brought people back to warn us of an all-consuming genocidal calamity, but they spoke a language we didn't understand, had genetically surpassed us, and therefore were unrecognizable to our labs, and we took their highly-advanced babbling as acts of war when they tried to **** the Illuminati heads - killed them then, so tragic - ate their gizzards for research. Now we're all doomed to die... Their bodies were lain next to the Illuminati heads. Centuries later, the same couple, now janitors from the freak warehouse, see themselves, find the time-machine-saucer, and start the time-loop again... inadvertently causing the end of humanity because they messed up the timeline.

... and that's exactly why I never did my homework.
Humanity is doomed to die in some distant future caused by the doom-couple and so I refused to put a brick in the wall. I refused because all I was was a...nother brick in the wall and I hated it.

Because as fascinating as I am.
As absurd as I am.
As much of a human marvel as I am.
I don't matter. I matter the least.

And so that's why I had to die in that off-the-books warehouse,
full of priceless and unmentionable artifacts.
They wouldn't ever put me there, but I had to die with the legends.
I had to give my life meaning somehow.
If I can't live a legend, I will die one... by the way the janitors put me in the trash out back anyway.
I end up in an east-Asian landfill somewhere, kicked in the face by barefoot sweatshop kids who just so happened to make the sneakers on my very feet. Isn't that poetic justice? What a send-off!

And so isn't that all a satisfying and cathartic end,
giving closure to the most absurd poem,
with the most random details,
wasn't that fun?
Just have to bust out a mad-****** like this every once in a while.
Seems an important part of my writing process and growth, LOL.


Find me on Twitter @TheGreatWilson where I write most often these days :)
Come say hi!
LC Apr 2021
it let the bird fly,
learn, grow, change.
but when the bird falls,
stays the same, decays,
a thrill climbs up our bones
as the crack of the wishbone
echoes in our expectant ears
like a loud, resounding gong -
as our supposed fate awaits.
#escapril day 14!
Dante Rocío Jan 2021
The purest sexuality is not being
left excited by one’s ******
like a forbidden fruit
or found
in metaphors
of one’s wild
aphrodisiac breath
or resembling it phones/melody
during ******* in the bed;

it is the moment of philias
and events
that leave you finitely burnt from the inside, reforming
you and leaving you anew
for burning again

And humans aren’t its source

they’re just its vessel.

Just like poems kiss knowing:
no lips in flesh will be able to replace them for you.

The same goes with the choice of a human language
till we’re still
On relationship with the carnal ceremonies that can transcend only once they let go of the ground and your nervous system pleased constantly. Example being experiencing Arabic in sound in the dark with no one to witness you being decomposed by the tangerine passion within it more than skin's stimulation could give
JKirin Dec 2020
Love you, I.
With your maddening grace
hold me tight
in a thrilling embrace.
Take my heart
(whole my being), please.
Let me drown
in your luscious kiss.
about a frustrating love
a sight to see,
the beauty yet to be,
thrilling chase—surpass,
wonders, waiting to blast!
colette alexia Sep 2020
You’re like the last part of fall
When the leaves all fall off
When the good part’s gone
Who you used to be was so fun

The thrills of new seasons come and go
And all you’re left with is the cold
Without the magic of the snow
Who you used to be was so good

When everything has turned to grey
Without the peace that comes from rain
When all the colors fade away
Who you used to be was so great
colette alexia Aug 2020
Jealous of a person that I don't even know
Angry with the person that let me go
I hardly recognize who I am anymore
Never have I harbored this much bitterness before

Walk me through the differences between me and her
Like walking the whole distance California to Virginia
A task so vast it seems insurmountable
Tell me what it means to you to promise things in double

Do you take her to the same places you and I would go
The thought of her tainting our lookout is enough to make me burn
Take her hammocking in our tree in the park close to school
At galaxie view remember when it was my body lying next to you

West Beach, Thousand Steps, Newport 56
Huntington, Laguna, San Diego for a switch
There is nothing new you possibly could do
Drive the whole coast searching, but you and I did that too

I hope I drive her crazy
I honestly hope she hates me
I hope I cause you lots of problems because your dreams still portray me
Realizing on the daily how you mistakenly betrayed me

I hope when you're with her you feel haunted with regret
I hope the thrill falls flat and conversation lies dead
And you walk away painfully aware
Of the fact that what we had was rare

Not every girl can take the late night thoughts you gave me
If you write her paragraphs past midnight
Then you're downright ******* crazy
Playing house with every person who is duped into the role play

If anyone asks, jealousy made me
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