"atomize" poems
I'm looking deep into her eyes
*Looking into her eyes...
is like opening a door that leads...
to another door*
Wait..really? OK...I open the door.
*This door leads to a long, winding path,
like the winding path of your love.
The path leads to a third door*
O...K. I open the door.
*This door leads to a spiral staircase
descending down, down, down, deep
into her soul.
At the bottom of the staircase is--*
A door?
A door.
I open the door
The door is locked. The key might be under the mat
Seriously? I check under the mat
Nope, not there. Maybe try under the small rock next to the door
Oh for the love of...I check the rock
There is a key
Wonderful...I unlock and open the door
*Inside this door is a large atrium
the glass ceiling giving way to a
beautiful summer night, the stars
twinkling in the distance. At the
far end of the Atrium, there is a curtain*
Sigh I pull aside the curtain
There is a door
Come on! I open the ruddy door.
*You find yourself in a long hallway,
with fine art hanging along the walls.
Crimson carpet lines the floor.
At the end of the hall is a door locked
with a combination biometric
fingerprint scanner/retinal scanner*
What.
*You have 10 seconds to unlock the door
before the hunter-bots de-atomize you*
What!? Ok! I try my fingerprints and eye!
*The door unlocks and the hunter-bots stand down.
In the next room are three vials. Two of them contain
terrible neuro-toxins that will lead to an excruciatingly
painful death. The third will allow you to continue on
to the next room. You have 30 seconds to choose before
you are terminated*
What the hell is this!?
This is the path to true love hidden deep in her eyes
No, this is insanity!
15 seconds
OK! Geez! Umm..Vial Number 2!
You're totally dead
Oh god!
Just kidding. None of them had poison...was just messing with you
THAT'S IT! I'M DONE WITH THIS
Really? There's only one more door. I swear
...Fine. What ridiculous thing do I need to do to open it.
*It's already open. You find yourself in a circular room
with a pedestal in the center. On the pedestal is a hand
written note. On that note is the key to everlasting happiness*
I pick up the note
*You smell sweet hints of your beloved's perfume and
notice the care that each word of the note was written.*
What does the note say?
*My love:
Next Tuesday Only -- Buy One-Get One Free at J.J's Pizza. Cannot be combined with any other offers/coupons. Must present coupon upon purchase. Expires 1/14/14*
...An expired coupon for Pizza?
Such a wonderful expression of love!
How do I get out of here...
You see a door
.
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
To soak up the dirt is to soak up the stories.
My story is grime pushed into the cracks in the concrete
From all the crusty hobos and sweat-sheened showgirls.
My story is glitter from all the strippers and their grinning patrons, and
***** spilled liquor, and ***** from those who have sought a cure.
I am nourished by pain, and also rubber from the wheels of souped-up sports cars
Driven by men with chasmic souls. The oil from a billion french fries
Palliates the sting of alcohol upon my fractured, ***** skin.
The filth of the cigarettes and of the **** smoke,
Dank in the air, and heavy, slathers on another coat.
I see all things and I hear all things and I know all things.
I can see up your skirt right now, you precious little object,
As you flee the casino like a gull from a shark’s open jaws.
Your nightmare is right behind you, and he’s starving.
His humanity has been chewed up by the worms of his rancor,
And all that remains is an animal with hot blood on his brain.
In the alleyway I hear the pop and crack as stiletto gives way to concrete
And bone gives way to undue stress. His smile is unhinged as
Stifled screams and muffled gunshot atomize in the black air.
A decade later, the mops of sad janitors cut through like razors,
Making clean spots more unsightly than the ocean of grunge.
Surreptitious blood spatters, long since scrubbed
Still glint under blacklight. The chalk outlines have absorbed
Into my unholy black skin, and though I was drunk on your blood,
I still remember cradling you as you died.
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 1:57 AM UTC
There’s a fifth elemental
bottled up inside,
and I’ve found myself
in biomimicry
light as the airs
lamenting
that this too too earthy flesh,
no platonic object,
of fiery desires,
could atomize and rise
to watery dote,
where true hearts float
and all honesty lies
with a fine print of boasted
bullet-points
and side-splitting effect:
*The meaty much we do
means little
mixed in the cosmic stew*
*Arms are best for putting round,
but when putting right’s left out,
it’s better to put down*
*What cleans a surface,
even tears, can also stain,
given enough time*
*Take the cleansing solution,
and wipe them
down to their gleaming steel*
*Then weld the twelve
couple-less, cautionary signs
to fashion a finer form*
I could pack infinity
into that very finite dodecahedron,
with this one simple observation:
The glow reflected on your face
is the most beautiful
my light has ever been.
Jan 14, 2011
Jan 14, 2011 at 6:37 AM UTC
Smokestacks
with a
conscience;
Never
have
I
seen a more
startlingsight.
The bane of
creation, a
weapon of
consumption,
The sickle of
This broken
world. The
smokestacks
atomize and
scorch and
gnash, machines of flesh, tools for Eris and destruction,
with flues left back from 75 years of decimation and sin.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
Shriek
Throw this flesh into wind for to be tattered.
Flense & flay me; sprayed hot onto cold asphalt. Ribbon shred.
This isn't loving Summer, no. Springtime is
planting-
gestation--
gasping births---
violence.
The invasion that is existing.
The Green of April is no gleaming emerald;
It is fury. It is ravenous hunger. It is manic desperation to _be_
It is the razor's edge of bleeding insistence.
Remove these bones. Festoon your thoughts with the sting and the ache. These verbs are command form. It is Spring.
That ripping. That fibrous, fluid tear. You hear it, yes?
Tilt me over and spill my ******* guts out.
Clouds of grey and bright red rain--squall of ichor. Knife wind.
Let us weep thunderstorms. Chagrin these Gods of Drought.
Howl
Scream for us both. Wail until the throat bleeds. Blood decanter.
Pour us out of you until the sidewalk hides from the cold.
_Chilly today! Should've brought an anorak, eh?_
Gale force wind. Tear me up. Spare no expense, accept no substitutes.
Leave no intact iota. Return me to my component parts. Atomize me.
Untangle us, we are a tragedy.
...And, after all, this is a slasher, yeah?
I mean. At least distract me. Ya know?
May 20, 2025
May 20, 2025 at 2:17 PM UTC
" To Allen"
Your balder than i'll ever be
I hope
You dead man
Throwing words at me that smell
Sweet and honest
Like your worm-feast corpse
That will eventually atomize
And flow through the hairy nostrils
Of future sentient beings
Living upon this sphere and other places
Oxygenated by the mother
That will tenderly process you again
Into the very fabric of existence
Which will vibrate differently now
That you have been and writ upon
The globe your karmic babble spilling
Guts and ***** for all to consume
However they wish and dream
Or dare
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 8:50 PM UTC
It used to feel like a child discovering monarch butterflies
Now the butterflies are fossilized
The ants colonize
In the form of words, we atomize
The fragmented refractions of light once romanticized
A heart like whimpering pines now petrified
A memory like tape worms
Infiltrating my nervous system
Our love is a parasite
A harlot to blasphemous design
A vulture preying amongst skepticism behind cloud over eyes
My sacred love now synchronous I’m with an abominable shrine
I worshiped your existence now I defy
The faith once possessed to myself I deny
The rose has withered
The thorns remind
The apple of thy eye
Is now the cancer of your sly
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 3:06 PM UTC