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#absurdist
Roses are blue violets are grey I switch things around wondering what is life?
0
Mar 20
Mar 20, 2026 at 1:03 PM UTC
What is Life
Alls my life I has to hop, brother! Alls my life I... Hard times like, “Yah!”. Mad tricks like, “Yah!”. Fatalist, I’m all lost Homie, you are all lost But if God got us, then we gon’ be alright We gon’ be alright! We gon’ be alright! Brother, we gon’ be alright What we need is a way to lose the radar Of the creatures of gluttony that resembles a bar. So, I hop in hope that I’m still afar From the clenches of them ****** piranhas Chasin’ me like a cop car. Call this eternal for no solace is there And this frog won’t ever give in to that Joker’s flair. Twisted it is that a kiss pronounces exit from this lair? Yeah, sure do adhere. I’d rather die and state my mind clear. This circus denounces hell, I fear. Joker’s the devil and piranha’s sin, my dear. It’s clear what they intend to do here. Mere resistance is futile and it tears Lingering hope and steers My fate. My life. My ideas. But I take a leap of faith Cause If God got us, then we gon’ be alright. Brother, we gon’ be alright. -Asher Graves
0
Aug 31, 2025
Aug 31, 2025 at 12:13 PM UTC
Dare To Leap
We are all bewildered dancers Lost in an incomprehensible ballet— Woven tightly through a rich tapestry, Drawn from contrasting colors, Yet forming a boundless whole, Waltzing hand in hand— In love and hate, joy and suffering, Dark and light, death and life. The universe—a radiant church window, Fracturing light into polychromatic unity, Drifting shards of stained glass, Piercing through the drama of duality, Rippling into a sea of endless complexity, Wedged between the boundaries of stars and the space that forms them, A perfection found in imperfection, Beneath this sea of contrast lies truth: How could we be anything at all Without two sides to make us whole? Before the technicolor skies formation, We were the loneliest deity, Infinity alone in a room made of itself, Where everything was everywhere, And time unfolded all at once. So we crafted ourselves a dream— From the core of our mirrored soul, A place where I am you and you are me, So we may live and perish in grace. So we may play a game with ourselves, Performing on this boundless stage, An intricate puzzle piece, Fitting together in a dance of chaos, Meticulously designed to deceive ourselves, So we may treasure life in the face of death. Navigators of the in-between, Wandering the maze of nothingness. If infinity could dream, Its deepest longing would be To grasp something real— To feel the grass beneath its feet, As it runs across the hills of our earth, Savoring the fleeting bliss of it all. The present is so precious, It hints at a reason we call it so— A split second glimpse of meaning In the eternal dance of existence.
0
Sep 9, 2024
Sep 9, 2024 at 10:50 AM UTC
Meditation On Death
We are all bewildered dancers Lost in an incomprehensible ballet— Woven tightly through a rich tapestry, Drawn from contrasting colors, Yet forming a boundless whole, Waltzing hand in hand— In love and hate, joy and suffering, Dark and light, death and life. The universe—a radiant church window, Fracturing light into polychromatic unity, Drifting shards of stained glass, Piercing through the drama of duality, Rippling into a sea of endless complexity, Wedged between the boundaries of stars and the space that forms them, A perfection found in imperfection, Beneath this sea of contrast lies truth: How could we be anything at all Without two sides to make us whole? Before the technicolor skies formation, We were the loneliest deity, Infinity alone in a room made of itself, Where everything was everywhere, And time unfolded all at once. So we crafted ourselves a dream— From the core of our mirrored soul, A place where I am you and you are me, So we may live and perish in grace. So we may play a game with ourselves, Performing on this boundless stage, An intricate puzzle piece, Fitting together in a dance of chaos, Meticulously designed to deceive ourselves, So we may treasure life in the face of death. Navigators of the in-between, Wandering the maze of nothingness. If infinity could dream, Its deepest longing would be To grasp something real— To feel the grass beneath its feet, As it runs across the hills of our earth, Savoring the fleeting bliss of it all. The present is so precious, It hints at a reason we call it so— A split second glimpse of meaning In the eternal dance of existence.
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46
Humans tread this lonely universe, as an ever-dispersing body, but our I’s never meet. Behind the velvet curtains of our minds, within the iris of our eyes, rests an endless expanse of stars, refracting off a crystalline hall of mirrors— a boundless, eternal reflection, devoid of every word. Whispering so softly in us, behind all thought, all form, revealing everything, yet ultimately nothing— nothing at all.
0
Sep 9, 2024
Sep 9, 2024 at 10:49 AM UTC
Collective(Un)Conscious
Vestal shores of youth, Life! -Render once forth Coasts, before every home. Turn castles to glass, Liken ivory to stone. Our long mass, come to close- Hunger no more. What is achieved, at last; The peace found within, Begins to unfold.
0
Aug 28, 2023
Aug 28, 2023 at 3:08 PM UTC
Slap
I've realised that I have taken life too seriously. So, I delved into absurdist thought. The idea is so fascinating. There's no meaning to this life, to this universe, to this reality of ours. And the protagonist is going insane, trying to find a meaning to this meaningless existence, toying between societal perception and individual perception. In the entirety of his/her journey, ***** meets a variety of people, engages in crazy doings, takes the unwalked path, develops a purpose to prolong this mundane existence, eventually leaves it and drowns in melancholy, haphazardly moves to another purpose, then another, at some point maybe religion, then back to reality, unleashes creativity in the most disdain places, unleashes creativity in the most affluent places, moves to social work, gives out opinions on social realities, and fantasy(utopian society), finally commits to a normal job, earns well, gets married, most likely has children, gives love to them and dies, probably peacefully.
0
Aug 11, 2021
Aug 11, 2021 at 3:53 PM UTC
An absurdist story
bury me living for i am in a world of dead where the zombified stumble around looking for meaning maybe it'll make more sense six feet under and down the river styx tie me to a raft and let me drift far, from this meaningless charade known as life
0
Jan 23, 2021
Jan 23, 2021 at 1:11 PM UTC
Corporeal Incapacitation
She met me by the river and turned her cheek to the sun taunting it. Her willingness could cause a mark in red, like a statue she sits so still. My feet dangle in the river, which she dare not touch and I know why she must stay so fussed with the pray that is all in her head, to think she may die. Or end up dead down some dark dingy creek gives me no better reason to meet her here where she knows, her friends. To say goodbye is to become a foe with the daring woman. So I just hope that she'll turn her head and pull the mask to her chin. To look me in the eye and scream in my face, that I might die tomorrow. Even though I know she could strike me down this minuet, with the river raging i'd close my eyes, to the fish flailing, and my friends across the waters. To the beat of the rapids, i'd happily die.
0
Sep 24, 2020
Sep 24, 2020 at 9:08 AM UTC
The river that splits me down the centre.
In my mind there's a power that I keep by the shelf of books I once accumulated in an attempt to own everything to keep something that would always stay, permanent to years I never use it and at times the dim light from overhead makes me forget what it is i'm looking at I don't touch it in case I've forgotten how to handle it and I think I may have it might leave room for discussion or leave the room altogether I was never good at piecing puzzles, the truth lying somewhere in the invariability of the same outcome some call it probability or fate and fortune it may even be unlucky I used to be a woman who knew exactly what to say however poorly timed it could be but now my mouth can't cooperate and I've forgotten all my favorite words
0
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 12:33 AM UTC
felt pillow, feeling fellow
the sun is my king and sometimes it asks me what i'm doing down here on earth i can't help but explain that everything has it's place and there are certain rules you cannot bend i consistently want to have a ****** job wherein it slowly melts my spirits but not really what i really want is nothing by the sea doesn't matter which one where i can pray into the sand where someone asks who are you? what are you doing? and i can tell them at ease, at ease like that cowboy i remember from my childhood this is me at my most degenerate at my most free but you wouldn't know except the sun king and I
0
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 11:31 PM UTC
this is not a poem about the sun
a swollen finger rising to the occasion rising to the size of a grape, purple bloated like a stuffed pocket or pregnant chicken green oozing out like the slime i got from the museum and the smell of rubber and plastic following me in my sleep a ghost by the window slipping into my thumb and biting pain the numb pressure of muscle tissue ripping the phantom claws out and shouts that women are debris swamps with lost metal buried at the bottom if you dig long enough the days become one and their hair consumes you whole i argue with the shadow, threaten that this bruise will burst and blood with meet alcohol, an antibiotic fever dream it stares at me defiant, like a giant pulverizing a village my fingers wrestle and before the abscess can pop the fingerprints unravel until i am nothing but thread a coil at the bottom of the floor a dress to be sewn in a bedroom the shadow stand up and fits her bones into the fibers, a bride in white the thumb hurts no more
0
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 8:40 PM UTC
a bruised finger
I have faced down the existential anguish that drives lovers to padlock themselves within. I have woven blankets to warm my cold shoulders when I tumble through the abyss. I have created Reason, Religion, and Reverence out of Absurdity and Stardust. I will always be more desirous of desire than secure with security, more comforted by wonder than wondrous of comfort, and more of the romantic than the realist, though neither is whole without the foil.
0
Jan 3, 2019
Jan 3, 2019 at 2:31 AM UTC
Foil
I am alive in a home-made dress that was bought for two dollars at a yard sale there is domestic bliss in routine in the inching of my hand on a knife that will be used to slice the tomatoes growing outside there in no harm in loving you eternally I think about everything often about the way I tried for years to soothe my fathers’ psychosis and my mothers’ sadness I think about the temporary loss of my body and the way I absorbed it in sweat my bones constantly caught in bushes of bramble thorns and I wish you could see how far you have to go to come back home
0
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 12:17 AM UTC
spending time with the living
Mary had a little lamb, two lobsters and a Christmas ham, a three-pound tub of chicken wings, seven bratwurst tied with strings, thirteen loaves of garlic bread, a schnitzel bigger than her head, four rare steaks, a dozen eggs, caviar and turkey's legs, strips of bacon, mushroom stew, chunks of bread and cheese fondue, and two whole jars of sauerkraut, (to clean all of her insides out). Finishing the pasta salad, Mary soon looked drawn and pallid. "I don't feel well," poor Mary said. "I think I need to rest my head." Then from her stomach came a moan, a straining, churning, twisted groan. Mary gasped; her eyes grew wide. She'd only seconds to decide. What could she do? Where could she go? Her stomach was about to blow! So, reaching for the nearest bucket, she retched, and then began to chuck it. All the courses that she'd swallowed, and the apertifs they'd followed, all the steaks and all the fish, each and every single dish came flying back from in her belly, filling up the bucket smelly with a foul and toxic brew, and no one knew quite what to do, so this went on for ten whole minutes till Mary had expelled her innards. When she was done, her eyes were red, and sweat was pouring from her head. "Are you alright, sweet Mary dear?" her mother asked. She didn't hear. For Mary was already off - the waiters saw her try to scoff the whole entire pudding bar. Now, this had pushed her mum too far. "Alright!" her mother cried, "I'm through! I've done the best that I can do. I'm sick and tired of all you eat. I will not pay for all this meat. I'm going home. Go get some help —" Then Mary's mum let out a yelp! She glanced down at her legs and saw sweet Mary there begin to gnaw! She struck the lass, but with great haste, alas, the girl had reached her waist. As Mary's ma was there devoured by her offspring, overpowered, she cried one thing ere final slaughter: "It smells like lamb in here, my daughter." Mary licked her lips and grinned. She belched out loud and then broke wind. She felt her tummy start to rumble - and calmly ordered apple crumble.
0
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 4:52 AM UTC
Mary had a little lamb
Mary had a little lamb, two lobsters and a Christmas ham, a three-pound tub of chicken wings, seven bratwurst tied with strings, thirteen loaves of garlic bread, a schnitzel bigger than her head, four rare steaks, a dozen eggs, caviar and turkey's legs, strips of bacon, mushroom stew, chunks of bread and cheese fondue, and two whole jars of sauerkraut, (to clean all of her insides out). Finishing the pasta salad, Mary soon looked drawn and pallid. "I don't feel well," poor Mary said. "I think I need to rest my head." Then from her stomach came a moan, a straining, churning, twisted groan. Mary gasped; her eyes grew wide. She'd only seconds to decide. What could she do? Where could she go? Her stomach was about to blow! So, reaching for the nearest bucket, she retched, and then began to chuck it. All the courses that she'd swallowed, and the apertifs they'd followed, all the steaks and all the fish, each and every single dish came flying back from in her belly, filling up the bucket smelly with a foul and toxic brew, and no one knew quite what to do, so this went on for ten whole minutes till Mary had expelled her innards. When she was done, her eyes were red, and sweat was pouring from her head. "Are you alright, sweet Mary dear?" her mother asked. She didn't hear. For Mary was already off - the waiters saw her try to scoff the whole entire pudding bar. Now, this had pushed her mum too far. "Alright!" her mother cried, "I'm through! I've done the best that I can do. I'm sick and tired of all you eat. I will not pay for all this meat. I'm going home. Go get some help —" Then Mary's mum let out a yelp! She glanced down at her legs and saw sweet Mary there begin to gnaw! She struck the lass, but with great haste, alas, the girl had reached her waist. As Mary's ma was there devoured by her offspring, overpowered, she cried one thing ere final slaughter: "It smells like lamb in here, my daughter." Mary licked her lips and grinned. She belched out loud and then broke wind. She felt her tummy start to rumble - and calmly ordered apple crumble.
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60
Let's not make any bones about it, For I have no bones to pick. Ah, and I've got you there, for I am a sack of meat. O, to live amongst the squids! and be so jubilant and jiggly, why, no pleasure's ever met my eye, as that leathery wriggling beak. Am I to blame for my misfortune? Surely so, but of you I must ask, what misfortune? Am I to assume that because I have agency, I must fail? Nonsense! And how fitting. American manifest. Living in a land, for himself, most befitting. Laugh with me, for we live in Clown World. This is the power of the untamed duffle bag. Vicious! O how vicious, his maw, his all consuming zipper unzipped. But my zipper, too, is unzipped. Such a faux pas passes not in our society, unforgiving, unforgivable. Original sin.
0
Dec 15, 2017
Dec 15, 2017 at 10:03 PM UTC
Enabler? I hardly know 'er!
Camus asked, his question A cup of coffee Or death? Because life has no meaning So the absurdists said These actions are equal They mean as much as you decide So why choose death I guess its saying It's no more or less Than life So every day When I wake If I'm feeling, like i normally do I have a cup of coffee Because coffee burns It is bitter Truthfully though It's over quicker Than a noose And why Should I Die? When the universe Will not Cry For me Another insignificant Human life To fork no lightning And to vainly Oh so vainly Rage, as Thomas said Against the dying of the light So instead I strive To be free of my darkness And to live free Live a life so meaningless Yet filled with beauty This I will do.
0
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 11:49 AM UTC
Absurdist ramblings
There was ink in his mouth and it was Monday morning, doomsday morning. The comparison of both these seemingly random attributes could mean nothing at all to anybody else but they came hand in hand for a man that always walked with his shoes untied and while the rest of the world chewed tobacco; he chewed cinnamon sticks that he would grind to a fine powder in his mouth spitting it out at nearby ant mounds and by the nests of bumblebees. This nomad’s of nobody’s business would wander the streets of his hated town, the world’s armpit, the city of fire and angels and whatever the hell else. He would walk Pico Boulevard all the way to Wilshire Ave., towards Venice and then crookedly stumbling to Van Nuys but he didn’t know his bus routes and his mind was always swarmed by imaginary bugs that he picked up from old soda cans. What he loved most of all was stopping by the bridges of highways and looking all the way down to the cars below swimming past in a hurry; the sky dark blue and the headlights like light bulbs almost running out of their batteries. He saw this as cathartic as most people saw sunsets or a pianist shaking his head violently to his own tune and it was true. This simple man was born, some say, out of dust, car exhaust and the lost ID cards of peoples’ whose wallets were stolen. However intriguing this could be it wasn’t so. He was born in a hospital in Chinatown and his mother had gold teeth that glistened whenever she drank too much and how often they shone. You see, I knew this man long ago when my hair cascaded down my back in fine strokes and my lungs weren’t yet tired from the things I chose to inhale. For all my purposes, this was the only person I wanted to talk about, to spit and screech whenever I heard his name and I didn’t even exactly know his name; The poor imbecile. He went by different pseudonyms and I suppose I did too but I had a name that most knew. Carmen and Leopold. They chose to remember it because it rolled off, it clawed at your teeth as you said it. But Monday mornings were a specialty. It meant that he could go and see his brother who lived across town, the one who sang at fancy pubs and refined restaurants, where people didn’t have to yell to admire you, but slowly clapped, a soft hum in a room where everyone understands and doesn’t have to make up for it in the way they whistle your name. He always shook his head at this profession. “You’re an animal to these people, an exhibit they can safely see from their auditoriums and then go to sleep without having to take you home. Your last hurrah will come soon and then what will you do?” He didn’t understand Leopold’s hostility. This art he was drawn to. This voice that could have been given to anybody but it was given to him. Deep down he knew he would never be a big star, he would never leave the place where he born. He would die close to where he went to elementary school and what a big sham, the whole big world so big and he would never see it. Never unfold, instead slowly crumble like the crust of cakes he stared at through shopping windows.
0
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 11:02 PM UTC
Nomad
There was ink in his mouth and it was Monday morning, doomsday morning. The comparison of both these seemingly random attributes could mean nothing at all to anybody else but they came hand in hand for a man that always walked with his shoes untied and while the rest of the world chewed tobacco; he chewed cinnamon sticks that he would grind to a fine powder in his mouth spitting it out at nearby ant mounds and by the nests of bumblebees. This nomad’s of nobody’s business would wander the streets of his hated town, the world’s armpit, the city of fire and angels and whatever the hell else. He would walk Pico Boulevard all the way to Wilshire Ave., towards Venice and then crookedly stumbling to Van Nuys but he didn’t know his bus routes and his mind was always swarmed by imaginary bugs that he picked up from old soda cans. What he loved most of all was stopping by the bridges of highways and looking all the way down to the cars below swimming past in a hurry; the sky dark blue and the headlights like light bulbs almost running out of their batteries. He saw this as cathartic as most people saw sunsets or a pianist shaking his head violently to his own tune and it was true. This simple man was born, some say, out of dust, car exhaust and the lost ID cards of peoples’ whose wallets were stolen. However intriguing this could be it wasn’t so. He was born in a hospital in Chinatown and his mother had gold teeth that glistened whenever she drank too much and how often they shone. You see, I knew this man long ago when my hair cascaded down my back in fine strokes and my lungs weren’t yet tired from the things I chose to inhale. For all my purposes, this was the only person I wanted to talk about, to spit and screech whenever I heard his name and I didn’t even exactly know his name; The poor imbecile. He went by different pseudonyms and I suppose I did too but I had a name that most knew. Carmen and Leopold. They chose to remember it because it rolled off, it clawed at your teeth as you said it. But Monday mornings were a specialty. It meant that he could go and see his brother who lived across town, the one who sang at fancy pubs and refined restaurants, where people didn’t have to yell to admire you, but slowly clapped, a soft hum in a room where everyone understands and doesn’t have to make up for it in the way they whistle your name. He always shook his head at this profession. “You’re an animal to these people, an exhibit they can safely see from their auditoriums and then go to sleep without having to take you home. Your last hurrah will come soon and then what will you do?” He didn’t understand Leopold’s hostility. This art he was drawn to. This voice that could have been given to anybody but it was given to him. Deep down he knew he would never be a big star, he would never leave the place where he born. He would die close to where he went to elementary school and what a big sham, the whole big world so big and he would never see it. Never unfold, instead slowly crumble like the crust of cakes he stared at through shopping windows.
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18
The man who wears a leather belt and uses sensible words loves her in cobalt violet, in the streaks of a hazy violent sky after a storm has passed and she lets him he claims that the egg people are coming, they’ll bring with them handful of gifts of glory, of the things people hide in the crevices of sidewalks, in the spaces where identity cards are devoured by the teeth of the unknown the television is always on and the static that surrounds them is the serenading music she listens to before she falls asleep at night she pretends that love is painting one’s nails while the other loses their mind as he laughs at the invisible neighbors outside the window his bones can smell the coming of the apocalypse and it’s not in the form of a swarm, or a flood it comes in the bodies of girls with strawberry blonde hair and that’s why he’s so drawn to her and why his mother was swallowed by the earth she learns that illness comes in permanent mauve the walls of her room are covered in that hue the boy she sneaks cigarettes from at the diner in his car the color is almost a tangible personification the smoke blows out into the crisp air like a bag of potato chips the lungs constrict and expand the thoughts hindered from years of yielding to the yellow sun with the ****** robe the child, the woman, the human lives in **** but the thinker manages to escape years later and live in the suburbs on an easy paycheck from foolish strangers that believe that gasoline is a cheap party trick and a fantastic high she doesn’t recognize touch anymore besides the harsh graze of asphalt hitting her knees people seldom realize that freedom is not in the way your toes curl but in the way they finally unfurl how curious you can spot patterns where there are none to be rescued does not always come in the way of clean arms She loved him in transparent maroon the grasp of warm sand kissing you gently
0
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 8:48 PM UTC
Color Theory
The man who wears a leather belt and uses sensible words loves her in cobalt violet, in the streaks of a hazy violent sky after a storm has passed and she lets him he claims that the egg people are coming, they’ll bring with them handful of gifts of glory, of the things people hide in the crevices of sidewalks, in the spaces where identity cards are devoured by the teeth of the unknown the television is always on and the static that surrounds them is the serenading music she listens to before she falls asleep at night she pretends that love is painting one’s nails while the other loses their mind as he laughs at the invisible neighbors outside the window his bones can smell the coming of the apocalypse and it’s not in the form of a swarm, or a flood it comes in the bodies of girls with strawberry blonde hair and that’s why he’s so drawn to her and why his mother was swallowed by the earth she learns that illness comes in permanent mauve the walls of her room are covered in that hue the boy she sneaks cigarettes from at the diner in his car the color is almost a tangible personification the smoke blows out into the crisp air like a bag of potato chips the lungs constrict and expand the thoughts hindered from years of yielding to the yellow sun with the ****** robe the child, the woman, the human lives in **** but the thinker manages to escape years later and live in the suburbs on an easy paycheck from foolish strangers that believe that gasoline is a cheap party trick and a fantastic high she doesn’t recognize touch anymore besides the harsh graze of asphalt hitting her knees people seldom realize that freedom is not in the way your toes curl but in the way they finally unfurl how curious you can spot patterns where there are none to be rescued does not always come in the way of clean arms She loved him in transparent maroon the grasp of warm sand kissing you gently
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38
you’re a shy hiss her voice echoes, whispers through the stringy hair of green overgrown grass I’m not the sister you knew all those years ago the gods have been dangerous to me in the city of root rot in between the cashmere sweaters you stole from heaven, from shopping windows the harvest is unfinished, as the gladiolas bow in prayers for the follies underneath my petticoat you wanted the birds to sing but now they scream for the arrival of summer in the veins I consider abused blue but have always been crimson sugar I want to reach out and hold your hand but it’s foreign now, the youth like creeping vines that we clung to have vanished leaving residuals of a wasteland that we once considered home, manicured to remind you the letters you threw out of your mouth from the roofs of sunset apartments the drugs you hid in the eye sockets of boys that would eventually be murdered in ally streets in downtown LA adulthood didn’t come in a red box it came as mother death, knocking her meaty hand on the door, uninvited and unintentional as she rubs her temples with the bones of the misguided I’m grown don’t you know, you exclaim I know the difference between the red rose and the sick serpent underneath it sure the children would think you crazy before but when you talk about the rats always clawing at night at the ceiling of your mouth you know to laugh, you know that the wallpaper isn’t shifting for everyone but it’s the gift of knowing that there’s always two sides of things that keeps you grounded in the ever shifting quicksand of this moderate temperature room for the easy living
0
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 4:33 PM UTC
The Nocturnal
you’re a shy hiss her voice echoes, whispers through the stringy hair of green overgrown grass I’m not the sister you knew all those years ago the gods have been dangerous to me in the city of root rot in between the cashmere sweaters you stole from heaven, from shopping windows the harvest is unfinished, as the gladiolas bow in prayers for the follies underneath my petticoat you wanted the birds to sing but now they scream for the arrival of summer in the veins I consider abused blue but have always been crimson sugar I want to reach out and hold your hand but it’s foreign now, the youth like creeping vines that we clung to have vanished leaving residuals of a wasteland that we once considered home, manicured to remind you the letters you threw out of your mouth from the roofs of sunset apartments the drugs you hid in the eye sockets of boys that would eventually be murdered in ally streets in downtown LA adulthood didn’t come in a red box it came as mother death, knocking her meaty hand on the door, uninvited and unintentional as she rubs her temples with the bones of the misguided I’m grown don’t you know, you exclaim I know the difference between the red rose and the sick serpent underneath it sure the children would think you crazy before but when you talk about the rats always clawing at night at the ceiling of your mouth you know to laugh, you know that the wallpaper isn’t shifting for everyone but it’s the gift of knowing that there’s always two sides of things that keeps you grounded in the ever shifting quicksand of this moderate temperature room for the easy living
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39
It’s no longer burn the witch it’s drown the ****** purity only attainable when it’s served as a death dessert, martyr Mary do you understand TV dinners made the housewife go extinct or berserk, I think that’s how it goes catching their heads in ovens as protest but listening came in through the door as a catcall, festering on ottoman chairs smoking that new cigarette with a cautionary tale at bedtime the ends  being ground, like the beef that we’re all guilty of starting between sighs, or the coffee beans blistered trying to come up with an excuse as to why high heels won’t break that man’s spine, and it won’t in that new suit he’s so possessive of because he paid for it with the sweat of his back as the gaggle of his fellow businessmen scuffle over who gets to lick the perspiration that earned him that respect, that bought the privilege of feeling like a man that stands out from the wolves in offices, waiting at midnight for the froth to begin to foam and to claw at reasons why the bed is always empty when he’s everything everyone wants to be and I think you begin to sympathize, I think you begin to understand why balancing a ballpoint pen between your forefinger and thumb is equally as drinking the cup half full the modern man with his chiseled teeth and overt way of speaking throws up at the American Dream, standing naked in the glory of publicity fame there’s too much lights, the makeup is too intense the crown of jezebels Belongs to the hardworking man with the unkempt lawn, and the natural features of a god it’s no longer burn the witch it’s freeze the ***** while they stand flirting with the boondocks trapping fireflies and weak Christians in their hair and will you listen to me now? as the hordes of provoked believers stand in crowded bars and in your own home ******* themselves mentally as they chew and spit into each other’s mouth what they’ve always wanted to hear and the pleasure comes from not knowing and not wanting to know and will you touch me now? that the fantasy is created in your own image and will you worship me now? that I agree with these shackles telling me that they were always meant to be there that ******* is next to holiness and will you accept me now? that the book has been rewritten and the villain is not you nor me but the refrigerator with the lizard that tempted humankind and banished them from ever entering paradise again and will you **** me now? that comedy is only worth in whoever has the longest tongue
0
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 9:23 PM UTC
20 Housecoats / The Dog Sleeps Outside
It’s no longer burn the witch it’s drown the ****** purity only attainable when it’s served as a death dessert, martyr Mary do you understand TV dinners made the housewife go extinct or berserk, I think that’s how it goes catching their heads in ovens as protest but listening came in through the door as a catcall, festering on ottoman chairs smoking that new cigarette with a cautionary tale at bedtime the ends  being ground, like the beef that we’re all guilty of starting between sighs, or the coffee beans blistered trying to come up with an excuse as to why high heels won’t break that man’s spine, and it won’t in that new suit he’s so possessive of because he paid for it with the sweat of his back as the gaggle of his fellow businessmen scuffle over who gets to lick the perspiration that earned him that respect, that bought the privilege of feeling like a man that stands out from the wolves in offices, waiting at midnight for the froth to begin to foam and to claw at reasons why the bed is always empty when he’s everything everyone wants to be and I think you begin to sympathize, I think you begin to understand why balancing a ballpoint pen between your forefinger and thumb is equally as drinking the cup half full the modern man with his chiseled teeth and overt way of speaking throws up at the American Dream, standing naked in the glory of publicity fame there’s too much lights, the makeup is too intense the crown of jezebels Belongs to the hardworking man with the unkempt lawn, and the natural features of a god it’s no longer burn the witch it’s freeze the ***** while they stand flirting with the boondocks trapping fireflies and weak Christians in their hair and will you listen to me now? as the hordes of provoked believers stand in crowded bars and in your own home ******* themselves mentally as they chew and spit into each other’s mouth what they’ve always wanted to hear and the pleasure comes from not knowing and not wanting to know and will you touch me now? that the fantasy is created in your own image and will you worship me now? that I agree with these shackles telling me that they were always meant to be there that ******* is next to holiness and will you accept me now? that the book has been rewritten and the villain is not you nor me but the refrigerator with the lizard that tempted humankind and banished them from ever entering paradise again and will you **** me now? that comedy is only worth in whoever has the longest tongue
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73
There’s a feeling one gets oftentimes evoked when people wear clothes too tight for their skin or hotels by the ocean that have pools and you wonder if the pool gets jealous does its’ hands get clammy does its’ mouth quiver with wondering why it tastes so much like bleach and if it feels as exposed as a schoolboy’s battered knees after Sunday mass and the feeling is reiterated once more this cramp of the foot, this skipped heartbeat you become so fixated on As you watch the old man on the crowded subway pick at his scabs, the ones he got when he was 23 or 24 he can’t quite remember anymore but it’s hard to remember such fine details when your clothes smell like ***** and your children don’t visit anymore so now he’ll sit on anything that moves as long as it propels him forward as long as he doesn’t have to see the wrinkles in between the birthday cakes and the heart medicine that he’s supposed to take but what’s a chemical to a heart and what’s a heart to an electrical socket someone with a medical degree keeps poking at so this feeling starts getting a name, starts calling cabs and giving them fake addresses starts moving in and calling itself mister Al on week days and Sister Wendy on the rest and now the soap stops cleaning and your hands becoming red with scrubbing some internal message you were supposed to detonate as soon As you graduated college but the degree was burned in a fire and all the things you were taught were sold at half price in local yard sales and so you stop eating dessert for dinner and stop living and start recollecting, start rewinding the past, time traveling back to a time when the sun would hit your eyes as you walked crooked streets the pavement cracking like frost of a glacier in mid September under your feet and as your voice gets low you smell the scent of lilac flowers in a basket carried by a woman in threads of agave and cotton, colorful shawls draped Across her bare arms, wearing rosaries in both her hands chanting words that you could almost know but you don’t, asking if you’ll buy the flowers made by the tears of god, crafted by the arthritic hands of mother Mary and Don’t you just love the virginal white of martyrdom but there are stones being thrown across the street by rude boys in t-shirts long enough to be dresses, jeweled numbers on their backs like football players or prison inmates and the distinction is not as clear as they ricochet off the tough brown skin of the woman you begin seeing embers of scarlet and it’s beautiful in the way the slaughter of a thousand roses by the hands of scissors is beautiful but the taste of disgust is not far behind, and you wish the lilacs were a shield of ivory armor And you wish the boys were boys and not men there’s a feeling one gets and I’m afraid you’ll always feel the feeling like the peel of a peach
0
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 2:10 AM UTC
Bibles For Stangers
There’s a feeling one gets oftentimes evoked when people wear clothes too tight for their skin or hotels by the ocean that have pools and you wonder if the pool gets jealous does its’ hands get clammy does its’ mouth quiver with wondering why it tastes so much like bleach and if it feels as exposed as a schoolboy’s battered knees after Sunday mass and the feeling is reiterated once more this cramp of the foot, this skipped heartbeat you become so fixated on As you watch the old man on the crowded subway pick at his scabs, the ones he got when he was 23 or 24 he can’t quite remember anymore but it’s hard to remember such fine details when your clothes smell like ***** and your children don’t visit anymore so now he’ll sit on anything that moves as long as it propels him forward as long as he doesn’t have to see the wrinkles in between the birthday cakes and the heart medicine that he’s supposed to take but what’s a chemical to a heart and what’s a heart to an electrical socket someone with a medical degree keeps poking at so this feeling starts getting a name, starts calling cabs and giving them fake addresses starts moving in and calling itself mister Al on week days and Sister Wendy on the rest and now the soap stops cleaning and your hands becoming red with scrubbing some internal message you were supposed to detonate as soon As you graduated college but the degree was burned in a fire and all the things you were taught were sold at half price in local yard sales and so you stop eating dessert for dinner and stop living and start recollecting, start rewinding the past, time traveling back to a time when the sun would hit your eyes as you walked crooked streets the pavement cracking like frost of a glacier in mid September under your feet and as your voice gets low you smell the scent of lilac flowers in a basket carried by a woman in threads of agave and cotton, colorful shawls draped Across her bare arms, wearing rosaries in both her hands chanting words that you could almost know but you don’t, asking if you’ll buy the flowers made by the tears of god, crafted by the arthritic hands of mother Mary and Don’t you just love the virginal white of martyrdom but there are stones being thrown across the street by rude boys in t-shirts long enough to be dresses, jeweled numbers on their backs like football players or prison inmates and the distinction is not as clear as they ricochet off the tough brown skin of the woman you begin seeing embers of scarlet and it’s beautiful in the way the slaughter of a thousand roses by the hands of scissors is beautiful but the taste of disgust is not far behind, and you wish the lilacs were a shield of ivory armor And you wish the boys were boys and not men there’s a feeling one gets and I’m afraid you’ll always feel the feeling like the peel of a peach
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49
the dust that collects underneath my bed flakes of old skin are more myself than I am the person I was when I was seven is not me nor the person I was on my fourteenth birthday the person I was yesterday is not the person I am in this moment the cells the building blocks of this body that carries me are constantly changing they die and entirely new ones take place how can I say I am the same person that I was at fourteen when every particle of myself is completely different what is it that has kept me the same person throughout my regeneration is it my consciousness is this my soul I am a tree grown from just a seed every year my leaves shrivel up and die and every year I grow brand new ones it is still the same tree because it's trunk remains the same I am still the same me because my consciousness remains the same after a tree is cut down it does not disappear it's trunk remains smaller, yes but still there now a stump if I am still myself after my body changes every molecule of my prior self this begs the question will my consciousness remain after this body has died if I am not limited to a specific chemical makeup- able to transcend different bodies- does that mean I will transcend this life as well
0
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 9:08 AM UTC
WHAT AM I