#shifts
**zero context shifts
*multitasking is multi~asking your brain
to do what does not come naturally,
the enthused poem starts up, lion roaring,
a muscle car, brain throbs organic pulses
semi~orgasmic of a near-completion in
your neuronic ***** exciting and ****
all you-writ so far is:
your name, some crazed, minimal
two fingers of words with
no context, no preconceived word lotion to
balm-spread over the enflamed areas of
your brain skin
except that it’s
6:47 am, coffee in hand,
your woman slumber rumbles a left over dream,
speechifying, and room, cool conditioned cold,
ignoring notifications of overnight elections,
and a reminder-by-photo where you were this
day seven years ago today, all put asided,
permission ungranted to any distractions,
there will be zero context shifts* til the
spillage of your morn squeaking meager is fully
pillage~d here, it be within my it-takes-no-
village,
@ 6:56 and Whitman is tsk-tsking at the low poetry of my scripting, Hafiz says “hey!
nothing about god or love, what good is that?”
but it’s ok for i’ve emptied the early morning
brain bowels,
defused fusses and asides, tossed asided & there is yet some coffee
remaining but the expiation for having been
reborn this newly birthed day has earned me atonement
for taking up space in this planet
and as of yet, I’ve not stated yet to any, no. all
humans, I hate you ~ but the day is infantile
and opportunity plentiful
@7:03AM
nyc
morning
Wed Nov 8,
in the year of hatred,
a/k/a twenty twenty three.
Nov 8, 2023
Nov 8, 2023 at 7:33 AM UTC
a sorry fist forward
and mortally i follow
coldly into the first dark flint of day
not my natural habitat
so quiet.. or near so
a vacancy for occasional clean
isolated noises
i pause and pass a scan about
the hailing lack of conscious population
all packed away
hauntings themselves in beds
- like some form of post apocalyptic storage -
they add a vague lended charge
nature is on a limited budget this early
no birds yet and no solar minting
a massive racoon with only three legs crosses my intended path
in its mouth a gory wreckage
i steep to make balance
but my pores won't take it
i am sickened by the ballast
of my breakfast
i hollow onward into these new conditions
still deriding what to be
a tourist and an informer dud
i have switched to the dayshift
from off the spire
of my regular hour
the evening routine
breathing is surprisingly ***** at this time
a failing of settled pollution :
the public buildings and restaurants
are muggy in their overnight stale degassing
awaiting air currents and dispersal
the first gulls of the morning
emit a defeating siren
spearing through detritus
they dispel the bells of purity
somehow i've made my port of call
a struggling invertebrate
in this state i dispose my spirit
at the salted threshold
security staff and sanitation process
between the sets of automatic doors
a workplace made alien
and adverse to me
purely by
the indecent hour
of day
Apr 14, 2022
Apr 14, 2022 at 9:53 AM UTC
Sometimes you change
And so does your mentality.
You ain't recognize your taste,
Unfollow pages, cause now they bring anxiety.
Sometimes you change
And not only location,
But also people that you place
Around yourself, it's called prioritization.
Sometimes you change
And ain't making same decision.
New choices you now make
Do set new course and clear your vision.
Aug 1, 2021
Aug 1, 2021 at 9:50 PM UTC
the present
forever shifts
yet remains
constant
claiming and
re-claiming us
a sequence
of stillnesses
flux and
fixity
finite and
infinite
May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 11:00 PM UTC
The night fell swiftly, feeling heavy
darkly glowing, ghostly lit
The moon shone proudly, high and godly
bestowed with shine and silver tint
The Earth shifts coldly, colored boldly
across the world the seasons shift
The winds blow wild, their temper mild
as the last days, of November drift
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 2:10 PM UTC
The joy is inexplicable
When the dawn is out to warm you
But, nothing gold can stay:
It turns into burning fire
And ***** your blood out of you.
Dancing in drizzling rain
Reminds you how beautiful you are
But, nothing gold can stay:
Hurricanes bring down big guns
And shoot you to dead in rain.
The wanton scenery
Is also nature's first gold-
The gold that can not stay.
I am the Nature
My gold turns into stone
It is your love that matters
I am bipolar, I am your lover
A lover who can't be always
The Nature's first Gold.
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 12:54 PM UTC
Tobias.
A handsome, broad-shouldered man with soft earth-brown eyes, that lived in 18th century England, who then came to America with his mother and father plus his eight brothers.
He would die of fever at the age of 23.
After he died, he did not move on to the afterlife, instead he was chosen by a group of elders called The Guard.
As a Guardian, he was tasked a keeper of human lives selected by The Guards' standards as 'changers,' or humans that change the course of history.
Tobias rejected his forced calling and attempted to abandon his task.
The oldest of The Guard, Helten, a man thousands of years old (only looking 40), approached him and asked a simple question, "Why do you want to truly die?"
Tobias was silent, until Helton added,
"There is a Shift after your changer."
Shifters, or Shifts, are the enemies of the Guardians and their mission is to destroy all changers so that Shifts can take their place and change the world to their liking.
Tobias added gruffly, "Which one?"
"Daniel."
Tobias' hand squeezed into a fist. He hated Daniel ever since the 1920's. He wanted a rematch since that idiot tried to **** his charge for a cigarette.
Tobias wanted to punch him. Hard.
His eyes flashed crimson, and his fists turned blue flame.
"Where is he?!" Daniel growled.
Helton smirked,
"Pennslyvania."
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC