#observation
Poisonous is the snake, twin incisors make me weak, a foam produced by the mouth
Ravenous is their thirst for blood, felled like a tree, my ****** roots exposed
Veins course with the hatred for the swine & serpent, decapitated animals feed from the trough
False-fed libertine, you are the carnal foothills of desire, seduction without a lack of mercy
A library of secrets lie just under the surface, a litany of false truths hidden
Power driven are the dire wolves, enraged in cages, ensnared by the Devil's trapdoor
Hollow are the enemies, barking with pure impunity, ignorance worn thin by your predecessors
Descent into the maelstrom, a new American justice is born, one of injustice
Blackened hearts prevail, they sacrifice a soul, traded in for eternal damnation
Immune & godless I enter the tomb of their unholy blasphemy, feathered oft their lips
Service for the dearly departed, your cheap brand of justice is forlorn & lacking
Nothing but a f*cking parasite leeching onto my skin, scrying into a black mirror
This revelation of hellfire is a shadow of things to come...burn it to the ground
1d ago
Jun 2, 2026 at 10:40 AM UTC
McDonald’s bag
running across the road
the wind chasing it
4d ago
May 30, 2026 at 9:20 PM UTC
There is a strange distance in me.
I avoid birthdays,
weddings,
funerals,
crowded rooms
full of overlapping voices.
Yet somehow
I still love watching people celebrate.
I like the warmth of gatherings
from the edges of them.
The distant laughter.
The lights.
The feeling of lives intertwining.
I love the idea of weddings
more than attending them.
Love remembering birthdays,
sending thoughtful gifts,
quietly caring from afar.
Maybe I was never meant
to stand at the center of things.
Only to admire
how beautifully human beings
find each other
despite all the noise.
May 22
May 22, 2026 at 8:16 AM UTC
The first time I stepped back,
I expected the delay.
The small confusion
that happens
when something necessary
goes missing.
It never came.
The meeting continued
at the same pace.
A point I usually correct
was repeated incorrectly.
No one noticed.
The decision still moved forward.
I stayed quiet longer
after that.
At first,
only waiting
for the moment
my absence would appear.
It didn’t.
Replies arrived
on time.
The structure held.
Even the parts
I thought depended on me
found their way
around it.
That was what unsettled me.
Not replacement.
Not removal.
Adaptation.
The system
had not pushed me out.
It had simply learned
how to continue
without requiring
my participation.
So I tested it.
Spoke less.
Explained less.
Left spaces
where my weight
used to be.
Nothing slowed.
Nothing returned
to ask for it.
And somewhere inside that,
a realization began
setting itself down—
quietly,
carefully,
like something
that understood
it would not be leaving again.
I had mistaken
being included
for being necessary.
After that,
I still attended.
Still answered
when spoken to.
Still sat
in the same chair.
But something
had already shifted.
I no longer knew
whether my presence
was part of the structure—
or just part
of its appearance.
— J.D. Vale
May 15
May 15, 2026 at 2:10 AM UTC
Imminent reality comes crashing down
The zombie bots are revolting tonite
Clash of steel, electric fences hold me in
Nostrils breathe in nostalgia
A broken, digital compass buried
beneath a world stuck on dial-up tone
I feel the grip upon my stretching skin
I feel the clenching of my taut jaws
Blinding headaches scream like raging bullets
Suspension by wires, the tension begins to rise
Bottom feeders decay in swamps of fury
As the rich eat their teeth in golden palaces
World on fire & no one knows
May 16
May 16, 2026 at 7:54 AM UTC
A neon castle neatly floats in Her skies
An aura of lightning yet she yields to none
Bestowing grief & a surplus of doubt
O Jezebel, you do not deserve your
withering crown of briars
Painted eyes black as her lasciviousness
Haughty spirits grieve the Lord on High
Thrown from the window in backwards succession
A scream lept from her lips scarcely heard
Dogs lap up the blood without burial
Horses whimmed & whined as she shrieked
Horrors of atrocities she paid in death
Canines of redemption leave little left
The blood of the wicked will not ***** my hands
Let the gods bury her skull & polished bones
To the great unknown hellish, blackened hole
where those who are depraved go
& so the prophecy was fulfilled
May 16
May 16, 2026 at 7:35 AM UTC
He is full of surprises
Mr. Mysterious right here in the flesh
Talents all across the board
Though he downplays- I'd bet he is the best
A writer through the rainy days
Poetry leaks out his fingertips
A creator when the sun is shining
A handy man with good life tips
A shoulder for those around him
Even a stranger he'll open his coat
Shrugging off his own depressing emotions
And the good ones? He doesn't even gloat
He tells me stories that make me less lonely
Run to him if you want a cheesy joke
A rare type who isn't even pushy
Friendship made under the internets cloak
May 15
May 15, 2026 at 12:26 PM UTC
Someone called this forest
'Charmless Dross'.
Planted in the 30's, it isn't even real
As though living, breathing woodland
Counts for nought.
It was strange.
Do we only count a single moment in time
As legitimate?
If time is an ever running thing,
Trapped on the treadmill
With no PT to say
'That's really quite enough for today'
Then who are we to judge?
The ecology is weak, they said
It's no positive at all
The sparse desert between these
Fake
Pine trees.
I think the birds disagree.
If children's laughter is charmless
And family day out's are dross,
Then close every theatre in Britain
Shut down the stadiums
Run down the race tracks
There's nothing to see
Here.
Good can be the enemy of great.
We don't need it anyway.
Back to your phones.
May 14
May 14, 2026 at 7:22 AM UTC
Origami--easy on the surface
Twisted impossible paper figures
Retreating hands shake into oblivion
Scars of old burdens greet my passive soul
Aggravation destroys every sweet note
Melodies reverberate about my head
Tearing the fine paper into destruction
Crumpled into a useless ball like yarn
A pyre awaits for redemption's day
Light it up, let it burn, o the eternal
Kerosene & gasoline purify through fire
Freedom of the mind & body elude me
Bones sink into Earth, as I reach the final rest
As angels weep, demons cackle in the deep
May 12
May 12, 2026 at 4:10 PM UTC
Bending & breaking & pulling at my skin
In my absolution, my sins I amend
It is time to find the you
The one that you keep locked inside
Revisiting my scars
How they bruise my bones
From here to the Hell below
It brought me to my knees
I didn't find religion...
I didn't find peace...
I didn't find a god...
I found me
In the solace of my wanderings
I pick up the phone & He replied
Just got what I needed
Just give me exactly what I came for
& no one gets hurt
Everyone walks home o.k.
Don't be a hero
No regrets & no reverence
I didn't find religion...
I didn't find peace...
I didn't find a god...
I found me
Censor yourself again & for good
Choking on the stench of dogma
Duct tape binds the tongue
Ziptied my own words behind my back
Pour salt into the festering wounds
Pantomime your pure allegiance to the violence
Or be cut down by the long arm of the law
May 9
May 9, 2026 at 4:14 AM UTC
I wish to play forever,
Day and night, knitting dreamily,
from the morning,
making things messy.
We became kingly,
filling out time easily,
just to make my mom angry
and let her fingers on my face,
helping her exercise freely.
My face remains cloudy,
making her face gloomy.
The play never ends,
nor the sportsmen.
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 5:52 AM UTC
Gazing through my shiny basement window,
Lavender flowers are blooming en masse,
Arms full of pollen,
The bees quickly pass,
A heavenly scent is wafting abreeze,
Taking a whiff,
I suddenly sneeze,
The sun is a bright and luminous ball,
Warming the stalls of my innermost hall,
A sea of black dots in the dirt moves with purpose,
All a day's work for the carpenter ant circus,
The sky is azure,
Undoubtedly pure,
My mind's weeping willows have found it a cure,
A tonic of nature will heal all your ills,
Far more than poisonous industry pills.
May 2
May 2, 2026 at 6:24 PM UTC
•
clouds in migration
—a drifting pod like whales
hunting along island stretches
airplane lifting over the trees
beyond power lines
knifing into ozone layer
a visible sometime star
entering the polar night
winking itself out of existence
jaded purple rocket flare
funneling through
stratospheric gateways
fading with the starlet
from the day I started
to observe this canvas
there has never been a more
altered sunset
than the bright segment
of this afterglow
now before me
•
May 2
May 2, 2026 at 2:34 PM UTC
The ruminating clock spoke
Quite loudly shouting this night
Busy with antiquitious words
I damnedly summoned for silence
Only sadness filled her heart with hurt
Not the way he spoke or loved her
But imminent sorrow followed as a shadow, she overtook the sullen pain
The morose madness of love
Soaked the sheets that used to pacify
Wash my hands in the purest gasoline
Caustic are my hands, the chemical burns through the epidermis
Fuel soaked sleeves bury me into the newly turned earth
Purify with kindness, let the fire bleed
Silken webs of magic beauty glow
O reign the skies with their little glories
Massive paranoia melts my ambition
Dangerous liaisons buzz about my head
Far beyond the pale
Apr 28
Apr 28, 2026 at 4:32 AM UTC
When in its agony the sphere was torn apart,
From supernova's womb, through icy snarl and frost,
Was born — of giant size, devoid of life and heart,
A monstrous, dead, and dark mineral was tossed.
It had no voice, no goal — a silent, drifting stone,
For millions of long years it drifted here,
The distant galaxies like fading embers shone,
Yet on a newborn star it never fell, this seer.
It witnessed death of worlds and, too, their birthing pain,
Through gravity it carved its own determined road.
And its eternal, endless, and unbroken reign —
A vector that no force could ever, ever goad.
But then — a planet. And a fragile, thin defence,
The layers of the air took the titanic blow.
It did not seek for fame, nor wanted recompense,
It drew the final line and turned to steam in woe.
It vanished. Burning in the atmosphere's embrace,
It never thought the journey's final close
Would be so ordinary, a dull and simple grace,
And in the sky, its fading trail froze.
But down below, in silence of a garden deep,
A man stood watching, breath held, feeling very small.
And in the moment that the giant fell asleep,
He waited for a miracle, and let a whisper fall.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 6:49 AM UTC
This isn't a bar.
It's not a night at the movies.
It's a room full of strangers,
Some alone, some with 'friends'
We strain to hear one another over radio rock,
A wall of dead noise keeps our voices down.
Conversation no more than shouts and grins,
Awkward and exchanged in haste
The stale stick of cheap chicken clutches our fingers,
A cajun glow washed down with glances at despondent companions
A young girl performs from table to and fro,
Four beers here, caesar wrap to go.
Eyes are on her;
For many in here, some attention is welcome.
This isn't a bar.
It's a waiting room with nowhere to go - yet.
A burned gap in the time,
To the next event.
Finish up. We're going.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 11:17 AM UTC
Grim white string hangs a wheel Rawdon; hangs it dead.
I push empty basket clanking drunk past pop-tarts and puffed-rice, by fruit loops and shredded wheat – weaving, nearly topple a stacked display of men all smiling eat my oats.
In aisle six a young fat woman in yellow stretch pants and white tee-shirt - obviously braless – smiles marshmallows at me.
In aisle seven a withered, man in black trousers and wrinkled black shirt glances nervously up from the contents of cat food and smiles toothless and bewildered.
My basket wobbles as I walk;
somewhere, a loaf of bread? – a peach? Here, only brooms, and plastic pails, – tidy bowl and Sani-flush. At the far end of the aisle a pretty, young nun holding **** & Span smiles hell at me.
In the produce section I am stopped
bagging peaches. A big man in a white suit smiles. “Young man, where is the meat? **** bread and fruit! I feel carnivorous: ready to eat something ****** to gnaw, break bone of lamb, or fowl, or slaughtered steer.”
I answer pointing, “Over there…
See the plump little girl poking
her plump fingers into rump-roasts?”
He eyes her deliciously and winks;
yells, “What’s for dinner, baby?!”
Outside, I squint and grin,
peach juice trickles down my chin,
the sun is hot, and sparrows pick
at break crumbs on the street.
I roll away in my basket on three wheels downhill laughing.
– 1980 Denver
Nov 18, 2021
Nov 18, 2021 at 4:44 AM UTC
The image of a woman stuns me -
My fiver year old daughter’s flower,
Left in green thin wrap to wilt
Now stuck through the water
In the giant plastic glass
I keep by my sink, opening,
Vibrant, in the incandescent light
As I brush my teeth and tongue
Spitting dreams one instant, then
Studying tooth stain and belly
Overlapping the new day
And my naked soul diffused.
A pink carnation spreads across the bath
As much aware of me as the effort
Needed to crush the moist petals
Isolates intent from joy
And fragile insights blossom
Into observation nearly lost.
Now, I delight; though, only now
A giant plastic glass filled
Sustains a few moments: embellishes
Simple life almost lost unnoticed
In the crisp and folded expectations
Of foregone conclusions.
Her mother stands naked too, her hand
Touching her soft skin wilting softer
And her soft ******* softer still – and desire
Crumbles unnoticed in a delicate heap -
Yet an unearthed Flower ***** the air and
Blooms easily through its final hours.
It somehow makes sense that
My daughter’s flower blooms
While the image of a woman stuns me,
And the water and light infuse my soul
Tightly aware that confounded and confused
I comfort her like a stem.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 2:38 AM UTC
My mother collects things
Like a leopard collects its spots,
Like a moth gathers dust on its wings
and a poet collects his thoughts.
Nov 18, 2021
Nov 18, 2021 at 3:03 AM UTC
Like
an apple
uneaten, but cut -
All night by the diner
This woman,
A **** -
Left out,
turned brown
In a wrinkled red gown
Left out untasted
and wasted.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 2:46 AM UTC
A tremor among flutters of the hand:
Excess vibration – it’s certain to involve a deeper rhythm –
Certain self images sent bent;
Light striking irregular glass.
Eyes contract, weight shifts, a
Break in conversation.
Caught in a moments maze
All obstacles avoided reconstruct,
All exits rearrange.
There are other signs:
Brood and singularity, thoughts
Perpendicular to sense,
Doubt challenging belief.
Perhaps another shuffling of the deck,
A steady murmur, a muttering,
A constant twang or certain slur of contradiction.
Mind insufficient, though desperate to respond:
“No more! No urge!”
No self-recrimination to excuse the selfish stupor….
But there is silence in good scotch –
As when reverberations peak,
Then separate the sound from voice
And thought from all compassion.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 4:19 AM UTC
People watching is such a treat,
Strangers moving, slightly off beat.
Arizona’s got its share—
Vices people won’t repair.
Morning junkies out and about,
Buses run late—people start to shout.
The city’s ***** choking on trash,
Cars don’t care—they speed and flash.
I walk these streets, tired and broken,
Engines pass like words unspoken.
Windows up—no one looks down,
Like I don’t exist in this sunburnt town.
You are nothing if you walk here—
Not a face, not a voice, not even fear.
Just heat… and pavement… and empty sound—
A body moving that no one found.
Apr 24
Apr 24, 2026 at 12:05 PM UTC
Dont sleep, dont eat
Drink caffeine
Drink your water
Take an antipsychotic
Two apples or a green?
I wish I could
Be more happier
Take me out
Play with me
Dont feed me after midnight
Hide all my bottles on me
Or I will dump another bottle
Down my fattened gullet
In my 3am resolutions
Oh it circles the drain
Both symbolic & cheap
Like the ***** water it is
Dont play with guns
Hit play/rewind/be kind
Sell me for a dollar or $20
Inferno of plastic art
Burning all their bibles
In the streetcars they creep
Before the sun can even sleep
Apr 24
Apr 24, 2026 at 4:42 AM UTC
Choleric
Itching jaw
Palms salivating
Anonymity yet so pious
Occular dystrophy
Secular diety
Demigod with third eye shut
Oh calamity resets
Futile aspiration
Respiration fallacies
Mortuary pandemonium
Cleanse the blood
As I await for the ecstatic
I feel real when the medicine kicks in
I will not pick up (the battle) today
Deficit by decline and decay
Apr 23
Apr 23, 2026 at 4:53 AM UTC