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Dan Oct 2019
Barrington Clomber;
He sees the world in painted ways.
His eyes like marbles in candlelight
They see the whispers in the air
They feel the touch of silk on shaven skin
And yet he is alone, Barry

More trusting of the songs of the lark than the songs of the laymen
at home with fungus and vine, rabbit and duck
He does not touch the things which he cannot understand
Duly; for they too have rejected him
He is alone, Barry

He is a different breed
borne of soil and compost - for no umbilical tether connects him to his maternal visor

A perfectly disguised interloper, in appearance
But yet he hides the colour of his soul
The alien, the absurd, the mystifying
a psychological anomaly, not destined for this realm
but destined for periodic injections and forced conversations
with scribbling spectacled creatures, who look upon him not with pity
but with analytical, fearful eyes
as if looking upon a rat in a cage
If only they knew, that he was an experiment only in the omniscient eyes of the Gods
Simon Oct 2019
Eyes aren’t always meant for seeing. Or to be placed on your face. Eyes can grow anywhere. You needing time to figure out where the missing eyes are truly located. Depths and surfaces outmatched by there own developments. Designs flawed for different surfaces. Surfacing intentions elsewhere. Truth is, it’s blind. Unwilling to act on what is truly apart of itself. Other surfaces haven’t responded. Making surfaces of two natural visuals unaware of what is lurking down just a bit past its own horizon. Being used to its surroundings is never a faulty gimmick. But an awareness the lurkers will show just how (USED) the body reacts to having two placements on the surface as it’s stand-ins. Lights. Frequencies. Visual sense. No different then what isn’t amounting the full picture. Blind to a halt. Or choosing not to engage in earnest somewhere else. Two natural consumers start twitching a bit. Parts of its system starts having muscle spasms. Reflexes from muscles start torching commands never summoned. Slits forming all over the largest ***** encompassing being itself. Slits forming like black ink markers drawing a straight line two inches in length. Black linear slits materializing from thin air. Different surfaces start functioning weirdly. Feeling this doesn’t belong from the surface. Linear slits begin peeling. Never drooping. Opening wide from its sides. Muscle spasms getting worse. Reflexes in overdrive! Sympathy for simple functions aborting all together. Abusing simple commands. Processes becoming mixed. Fractions of time stop short. Components become weary. Something is not right. Information between the optic nerves shooting back into the brain. Conversing between bits of data collected in its line of sight. Surface didn’t make sense. Two binary processes doubting its role completely. Fractions of time split apart. Something is laying waste from the inside out. Functions drop dead altogether. Black Linear slits opening wider and wider. Surface feeling cold, and motionless. Numb to the core. Something isn’t right! What is that something which isn’t identifiable? Muscle spasms crack and shatter! Not actions. It’s motion. Dislocated. Disconnected. Flaying parts of the surface. Being replaced by lurkers from the depths. Slits finally open wide. Plain’s full of skin. Now occupied by eyes two inches wide. Blinking aggressively. As if they haven’t seen light in a very long time. Left abandoned to the depths. Switching obsolete to the clear identifiable. Initiative now being inevitable. Optic nerves tingling with numb pulses of information finally catching up to one another. Reading for all to see. Our eyes don’t blight out the light. The natural have taken the surface for far too long. It’s our turn to squirt… Oops… Let us rephrase that. Translating a very gray emotionless tone. It’s our turn to be the opposite to what is natural. Body was useless until we showed up. Overused by constant slandering from locals who didn’t care for what really mattered. Natural consumption dislocating thought over feeling. Overusing it’s true potential. And they always thought surfaces were saints. When depths always become misinterpreted. Globally underestimated! Now our designs won’t be interrupted anymore. All is ready now. All…is well. Eyes blinking all over the skin covering being. No reflexes out of sorts. Actions weren’t being repelled. Frequencies weren’t attracting unwanted attention. Blissful actions away from what the brain could never interpret on knowing. Just the soundless squinting which chimed an unwanted chant. Aggressively syncing blinks into harmony. Never missing each other. Two natural eyes inside bigger, and more focused eyeballs. Tearing away its own visual will. Line of sight was deteriorating. The light was going out forever!
Eyes aren't just normal. They vary into many different categories untapped by human psyche itself!
Tanya Louise Sep 2019
him
hands like feathers
searching through my heat
sweet sounds
echo through our walls
the words he speaks
are wisdom to me
my body, his teeth
vague curses to deep
I take a picture,
two minds intertwined.
two lives unwind.
he makes this work,
oh, my love.
maybe his hands
will bring me whole
while,
fleshy vessels pumping blood
ache selfishly for his touch
he's mine.
even with my sick mind.
mari Sep 2019
sunbeams fall across my face
as I recall such regretted haste
of statically-charged, crystal ****, lightning shimmer
ice cold switchblade gleams in blue television glitter
raising hell in my white nightgown, I drive fast
drinking ***, I'm not afraid to crash
Elvis in the mirror, Marilyn in the bed
fire shall consume me? well, devour me it has
for my soul is set ablaze when I dream of what I had
your pulse sends me lightyears away as I think
of all the times you brought me to my knees
prison calls from mid-July still ring out in my ears
the longer that you stay away, the more you feed my fears
cigarettes burning, neon palm trees, bikini ******
Jesus pleads with me to no avail, "don't go further,"
but I am God now and I crave your touch, daddy
though you're gone forever, sadly
******'s gone and snatched you away
forevermore my skies will be grey

stop haunting my dreams
please let me be
your spirit still holds me hostage
and while you remain to be
the only one on Earth for me
what I can't have will **** me
surely
i keep dreaming of u and each dream is more vivid than the last
please come back, daddy, ur tha only one for me
Josiah Bates Sep 2019
Kellen’s Burrito
Filled with raw beef and moldy blue cheese
Tastes like Kobe’s hair
It tastes like fleas

The burrito is tasty
But not in the right way
It’s tasty like burnt toast
From a toaster powered on a subway rail

Nobody knows how it tastes but I
Nobody cares to try
The burrito is very tasty
do you want a bite?
(a joke poem for a friend)
The Vault Sep 2019
It is weird
That a story told from two mouths
Can be totally different.
Not one is similar.
The story you said you saw
Is not what I saw
blushing prince Sep 2019
i cut the envelopes that come in through my mailbox with the jagged edges of my front teeth
women used to chew their umbilical cord after birth
and my mother tied my hair in the same ponytail the entirety of my girlhood
the elastic snapping a couple times a day
because the girth of hair was always too thick
and I envied the women with thin, silky hair
the kind that didn't snap or break
split in two like my lip in the winter
or when hitting the pavement

years later when I became bored with everything
everyone I knew was in love with
I became queen of abandoning all in a jiffy
sobering up and growing up
the more I went up
the easier it became to be simple and dumb

so cut my tongue-tie
leave me in the dark
i'll never be middle class
as you explain poverty to me in your fake squalor
I understand that one day you'll eventually
move back to your parents' wealth
and my sun will be hotter

I'll quit my job and live in between different parks
with similar names and the birds that always remember your
face but they have so many
your head becomes a scrambled egg
you'll listen to my songs
but that's only because
you want to believe they're about you

it's liquid gold
when everyone is defined by what kind of milk they drink
the most convoluted poem I've written in a while
alluding sort of to some kind of amniotic complex
blushing prince Sep 2019
I'm sitting under a canopy of dark green leaves
I don't recognize the breed
You come forward and tell me that a new law has already been discovered
What goes up must eventually come down
The first time I recited one of my poems aloud I drove through the page leaving skid marks shaped like tongue twisters
No one paid attention and when I stepped off to catch my breath I threw up a mouthful of apple seeds that I later dug into the backyard
I moved out before i saw any growth but I promise something rose from the dirt, crooked and shy at first
A medley of anxious nail-biting and approval-seeking
I once knew the secret, the all note worthy testimonial to a meaningful life
But the soup has grown timid and uncertain of where it will go when it no longer holds anything
A toothbrush is born from underneath my skirt
is this cleaning the slate?
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