"bolting" poems
A stranger has come
To share my room in the house not right in the head,
A girl mad as birds
Bolting the night of the door with her arm her plume.
Strait in the mazed bed
She deludes the heaven-proof house with entering clouds
Yet she deludes with walking the nightmarish room,
At large as the dead,
Or rides the imagined oceans of the male wards.
She has come possessed
Who admits the delusive light through the bouncing wall,
Possessed by the skies
She sleeps in the narrow trough yet she walks the dust
Yet raves at her will
On the madhouse boards worn thin by my walking tears.
And taken by light in her arms at long and dear last
I may without fail
Suffer the first vision that set fire to the stars.
7.5k
Dear, let me startle you by slinking my hand into
your smart, ethical decisions while I touch
quite gently
ripping to shreds
your photon ends.
Dear, let me caress your supple virtues and vows
until they blow out of proportion
merging your interests with mine
like the longing of eyes
uncanny in its distortion.
Dear, let me rip off your clothes as I grip your tight notions
ideas slipping carefully into place
like a sterile, unflinching blank slate
inching towards computed devotion.
Dear, let me carry out some foreplay
as long as you bend, not break,
delightfully stroking the edge of your plate.
Dear, let me come so close to your face
so close that it becomes blurry.
Where are my glasses in all this flurry?
Of feelings resembling photo reels on fire
shooting flames out the window
beyond everything you’ve ever known;
beyond anything you desire.
Dear, let me kiss you to submission,
your brain waves in motion
as I twist and slip into them
hormones ablaze
lighting up for days
your synapses recapturing
in a binocular haze.
Dear, let me flop on top of you
like a floppy disk, uploading your lips
into my hardrive.
Do I make you hard as fire?
Slowing burning
my hot fingers curling
up your robust spine
cracking it into
chiropractor sublime.
Massaging your tired broad shoulders
like large sofa ends.
Is this keyboard only
made for pretend?
Dear, let me mind **** you
take you and light you
brighten your screen
uphold and unseen
neurons fighting as I whisper ***** words
directly into the folds of your tulip ears
too large to hear, and
Dear, let me engage my rage
into a productive haze
bolting out words, unheard of for days.
Dear, let us become undone together
like the battery of a computer
rebooting after a hectic hardware phase.
Dear, let us breathe and walk through this maze.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC
Dear, let me startle you by slinking my hand into
your smart, ethical decisions while I touch
quite gently
ripping to shreds
your photon ends.
Dear, let me caress your supple virtues and vows
until they blow out of proportion
merging your interests with mine
like the longing of eyes
uncanny in its distortion.
Dear, let me rip off your clothes as I grip your tight notions
ideas slipping carefully into place
like a sterile, unflinching blank slate
inching towards computed devotion.
Dear, let me carry out some foreplay
as long as you bend, not break,
delightfully stroking the edge of your plate.
Dear, let me come so close to your face
so close that it becomes blurry.
Where are my glasses in all this flurry?
Of feelings resembling photo reels on fire
shooting flames out the window
beyond everything you’ve ever known;
beyond anything you desire.
Dear, let me kiss you to submission,
your brain waves in motion
as I twist and slip into them
hormones ablaze
lighting up for days
your synapses recapturing
in a binocular haze.
Dear, let me flop on top of you
like a floppy disk, uploading your lips
into my hardrive.
Do I make you hard as fire?
Slowing burning
my hot fingers curling
up your robust spine
cracking it into
chiropractor sublime.
Massaging your tired broad shoulders
like large sofa ends.
Is this keyboard only
made for pretend?
Dear, let me mind **** you
take you and light you
brighten your screen
uphold and unseen
neurons fighting as I whisper ***** words
directly into the folds of your tulip ears
too large to hear, and
Dear, let me engage my rage
into a productive haze
bolting out words, unheard of for days.
Dear, let us become undone together
like the battery of a computer
rebooting after a hectic hardware phase.
Dear, let us breathe and walk through this maze.
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 10:49 AM UTC
After decades and decades of distance
I've found you
The sluggish, torturous moments of the laps
have finally passed.
Time has bruised me, pounded me, bled me
to the core.
Hours spent as a pack of wolves,
howling for a soul.
I've hunted, starving in my travels.
Searching for you.
Me, a pack of hunting dogs not just stalking
quietly through still woods....
but bolting with snarling furled lips....
exposing razor sharp fangs to sink deep within
the throat of the love I long for.
Hold tight until the struggling gazelle gasps its last.
The hunt is over,
the heart full from the gorging.
Purring in each others company.
While resting tranquilly on the aromatic clover.
Riffles unable to focus, our stripes blending,
as our bodies merge.
The great cats we are, no predator to fear.
We slumber and bask in our regal glory.
Our cat eyes fixed on each other!
© Crystal Erickson 12/14/07
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
Rendered offenses
Sweat in the opinion, sakes
And due attention, to reason amends
Acting only a little saner, the stark stare a host makes...
Do you notice, evermore?
Anyway, the truth we prepose of...
Has a callous beginning, too sore
For a challenge of wisdom, that even does?
Prayers of dour anger...
For the aspire and means we favor
With a realm to a touch, tough knowing you and life's danger...
The reality of another fight, with sin as the futures flavor?
Speed has a question, dwindling in the wind
Suspect days, to redoubt and list the scope of an argument
That has the silence we afforded it, to keep the shadows of kin
Proper is as proper had, the hush of simple tomorrows, a problem to relent...
Toward sharing, the taste of a hoping kiss...?
That when recognized, sympathy is an answer; only a heed can tell...
The prayer of estrangement, has become a chastity's wish
Will a savior in love, know the better of kindness; here's your hell...
With a baring lip, that has suggested a toothsome reply to quips
And hearts to accept the solace of terror, a harrowing finish to past lies...?
That began and ended with a promise found in the bolting and gray wits
Of a dread simplicity, still running to wisdom's charity, which requited...
Sep 21, 2023
Sep 21, 2023 at 8:55 PM UTC
Here I lay in my comfort composure
Listening to every rythm of my music
Removing my white earphone to listen
To listen to the beauty of nature raining
Picturing myself as a randrop falling; free
Picturing the placid movement of water
Moving as one, cold breeze and falling with heavy gravitational pull
Thinking back to when I'd lay in
_comfort_
Listening to every perfect beat of your heart
Concentrating on the whispers of your spirit
Being attentive to your chords as you release them
Piercing my mind, _quaking_
through my flesh
To simply un-wither that was even desintegrated
Your love circulating my veins
Simply
By speaking
Rippling accross my seams
Bolting through my body more
than any drug ever
Hanging me on your hook
Touring to the meadow in my
dreams
Conquering the battles in my
nightmares
Re-writing the words on my page
that is life
Then
After enough re-painting
Of my story
You started to un-write my book
Crossing the hearts
Tearing the written pages
Oh how I could only stand and
_stare_
Oh how all you did, difficultly
_Glare_
The whispers your soul gave
_withered_
Cleared and filléd my mind
_vacant_
Was I abandoned by your heart
So easily the welcoming door
Became an unbidden command
_requested_
This hour
Is when I play it back;
Remenisce about it
Laying alone, in discomfort
Listening to no beats
Not even one of my own
Then I close my eyes violently
Shoving back the emotion
To silently replay those words
I love you
Always
Crashing down
Bolting tar through my body
Poisoning my mind
Rippling through my veins
That same poison
Is what I use
To **** inside me
What demons creep
See the story has a twist
What I feared most
What demons I feared even more
Is exactly what I became
The poison inside me
Crisply ogling at me
Inside the cage
Compresséd
Inside what
We call a
Mirror
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 9:30 PM UTC
Punk Sandwich
there he is walking down the street
slicked back hair and a thin mustache
high rise collar on his button down shirt
sparkle in his eye and always talkin trash
he loved his Italian beef on pumpernickel rye
he loved his mama and his brothers too
he wasn't your ordinary everyday punk
there was more and you knew he knew
fear for him does not exist or so he claims
quicker than a bolting flash of light
behind you with a jagged edge of blade
he is no one to challenge to a fight
he has connections to all the right ones
the ones you need to know for security
or to make some annoyance disappear
his word is golden shinning with a purety
a perfect friend intelligent curteous and brave
but these can all change to weapons of death
if you are so disposed to challange his way
it just might be your very last breath
after dropping you in a pool of disguise
he will tip his fadora with playful grace
back on his brow and cigarella between his lips
and that same old smirk upon his face
Gomer LePoet...
Sep 3, 2011
Sep 3, 2011 at 8:23 AM UTC
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
Her hair was plastered to her face,
Her scarf, enveloping her like a python.
Hot, salty tears ran down her cheeks.
She held out her arms to me.
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
Bolting the doors with an anxious expression,
I pulled her close to me and whispered in her ear.
Bullets of tears pelted my shoulder,
I held on tight.
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
The soothing, hot sponge tingled her tender skin,
The alcohol attacked like an armada of nettles.
The hands of the sobbing carcass violently shook,
Droplets of red ink soiled my hands.
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
Bandaged up - the wound was blinded,
A mummified image.
I gave a watery smile and she was guided along towards the path of the shining star;
She rested, and I never let go of her hand.
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
Lei era al sicuro
©Maniba Kiani , 28/11/13
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
Ships like phantoms
lost at sea.
Waves are crashing,
tumbling free.
Lightning striking, dazzling,
bolting.
Thunder rumbling, growling,
jolting.
The clouds slowly drift away
at ease.
A rainbow appears with a
feeling of peace.
The ship was rocking, now
sways gently close to shore.
The lighthouse beams its light
once more.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 5:27 AM UTC
Protectress...manna, Luna, vulvic-veil,
my heinous highness, take this kiss upon
your forehead and crown.
Tinctured lips, paired pilgrims of our alchemy...
surmounted mount in tantric trust, the perfect
fit for this Age.
We watched each other's will hatch in the palms
of our hands...forgetting to argue who came first.
The rightful bliss of essential ignorance, world
manifest under our noses--roused by smelling salts
from intermittent faints...Love, Love, Love!
You, dearest of whomsoever came forth from innumerable
bodies, to be half-turn to my half-turn...round our world
on its head.
Bar to bar none axes...one string guitars from pole to pole--
played ****** by our fingers.
Corollas of red droplets...the poppies are everywhere, the
child you bore me was me--forcing me to man abandonment.
Caught at the lip of a curb ramp, I hurl handfuls of folly
skyward...as pieces of absence continually settle time.
I apply you to my proportion...Vitruvian Man versed in
your space, circle squared dear--circle squared...the poppies
are everywhere.
Broken down to simplest things, I lay you down, I lay me
down...try both sides of the bed where neither is met.
Just as I cease to exist, I-ness nets a sense of being, bolting
upright as if hearing the world fall.
We who observed continuous excellency of soul, stood
juxtaposed in extemporaneous awe.
How could I expel you, how could you expel me...from
such a juxtaposition?
The "invisible worm" brings tidings of forever before it
destroys the flower...the poppies are everywhere.
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 12:38 AM UTC
I can’t get the sand out of my shoes
It’s been weeks
And I’ve been hitting them
And shaking them
And knocking them around
But still
I can feel the grit with every step
So I still can’t get the beach
Or you
Off my skin
With you, there was no warning
I went from drifting languidly along in the sunshine
To being tossed against the rocks in a sudden hailstorm
Shocked and battered and lost
Disoriented in the downpour
When I’d had the promise of clear skies
I’m not sure I’ll trust the weatherman again
He’s got your eyes and voice and disarming smile
I’ve been trying to get the salt out of my ponytail
I’ve been trying to get the feel of rock out of my hands
I’ve been trying to get this ****** sand
Out of my shoes
But it’s so sticky
Everything
Is so sticky
And here I am in the biggest mess
With hair and skin and mouth
So full of you
That I don’t know how to escape
My tongue is still recoiling
From the half-truths you spilled
Tinged with sweat and cinnamon
And slime
And here I am still choking on them
Retching
Just to get rid of the taste
Gnawing at my lips
Just to break the skin that knows you
Scrubbing myself raw
Just to keep you from clinging
My ears are buzzing with your nonsense
And I am running from the noise
Bolting with everything that I have
As sand grinds against my feet
And I will be ****** and breathless before I stop
Because I need the distraction
As much as the distance
I can’t keep reliving your kisses
With every stubborn grain
I can’t keep wondering if you’re lying
Every time I turn my back
I can’t keep playing this game
Because we’ve all already lost
So I will not apologize for taking the high road out of here
And leaving you to sulk with your I-didn’t-mean-to’s
And your too-little-too-late revelations
There were a lot of ways this could have ended
But I never once imagined you would have brought storms to my doorstep
I never expected to be trying determinedly to peel my skin off
And I never thought I’d be sitting here wishing to forget your name
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
**
coldly
smooth skeletal
hands turned
twisting
each
door
dead
locked
long before
our lips dried
**
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 2:43 PM UTC
Punk Sandwich
there he is walking down the street
slicked back hair and a thin mustache
high rise collar on his button down shirt
sparkle in his eye and always talkin trash
he loved his Italian beef on pumpernickel rye
he loved his mama and his brothers too
he wasn't your ordinary everyday punk
there was so much more and you knew he knew
fear for him does not exist or so he claims
quicker than a bolting flash of light
behind you with a jagged edge of blade
he is no one to challenge to a fight
he has connections to all the right ones
the ones you need to know for security
or to make some annoyance disappear
his word is golden shinning with a purity
a perfect friend intelligent courteous and brave
but these can all change to weapons of death
if you are so disposed to challenge his way
it just might be your very last breath
after dropping you in a pool of disguise
he will tip his fedora with playful grace
back on his brow and cigarillo between his lips
and that same old smirk upon his face
Gomer LePoet...
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 11:53 AM UTC
everywhere I turned there was a screeching child around every aisle
begging, whining, crying,
faces red, tears rolling as they throw probably their fifth or sixth temper tamtrum all day
right there in the middle of walmart
parents faced drained of life
trying to get in and out
while rounding up their child
dragging them by the arm
giving them what they want so they stop asking even three aisles away from the object
I bent down to grab my cupcake holders and I hear little feet running up beside me
and a young boy goes bolting by me,
a box of fruit roll ups in his hands
and I watch as he throws it in the cart and the mother continue to walk as if that didn't just happen
as I stand the sound of screams echoes
through the grocery section
and all I can think is
GO GO GO
GET ME OUT OF HERE
my lungs felt heavy
my breath was coming in quick
small gasps
I started sweating under my arm pits
my mind closing around the sounds of
bratty children screaming behind me
beside me
in front of me
as if the sounds were taunting me
I dropped the two items I had on a random shelf and headed toward the door as fast as my feet would take me
pushed open the doors and ran to my car
where I turned the ignition on
stepped on the gas and flew out of the parking lot
I gasped for air when I got on the road
I hadn't even realized I'd been holding my breath
was that going to be my life?
was I about to nurture
love
clean
change diapers
fall in love
with a hateful, selfish, evil little demon
that would fool me for a few months of absolutely adorable babyness before turning into Satan spawn right before my eyes
begging, screaming, whining when they don't get their way
who was I kidding
I've always hated children
and in return they've hated me back
just last week a boy told me my leggings were gay
what made me think my son would be any different?
I didn't calm down until I got to sit in silence
just the sound of my cars engine
and my own breathing
I swore right then and there
even if it kills me, I would never let my child be that kid
I refused to let my life end up the way those parents in walmart had turned out
kids will be kids but my child will
never chase a pregnant woman out of a store in an absolute panic second guessing motherhood
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
I'm November nights' sleepless eyes,
And Saturday's heavy rain,
I feel broken and I can't remember why.
A deep breath, it might ease my anguish.
Across that town,
(that I set on fire),
Is something stronger than melancholy.
I try to reach it but it's too distant.
I'm an illusion you can't deem real.
I'm only mist,
Your hand will never,
Close around mine.
You cry like a boy,
When you hear I've lost my breaths,
In 1678's winter snowstorm.
The autumn of 1857,
Seems like cracking branches,
And you and me inexistent,
Trapped in something,
We can't seem to remember.
It has no name, that phobia.
I can't breathe, I can't remember,
Where I've left my lungs.
I can't feel, I don't know,
Where I've dropped my heart.
My eyes can't trace,
The shape of your face.
You're a blurred image,
I've crafted with my own hands.
Nothing makes sense.
Maybe I'm insane.
Desperate, so desperate,
To feel, to touch an entity,
That could be bigger than life.
But I'm a breathing vacuum.
The sensation in my fingers,
Is singeing me with so much life,
It's almost unbearable.
I'm running, bolting, wavering,
Stumbling, swaying, trembling.
I'm dying, dreaming, wondering,
I'm falling in love.
I'm falling over and over and over.
But I'm only falling.
I've never known what's it like,
To get up.
I'm falling into a rift valley,
With sleepy eyes.
I'm falling again.
But this time I'm falling asleep.
I might wake up.
Someday I might.
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 6:47 PM UTC
Electrodes to nodes
and nothing bodes well
electrickery and it trickles into me
revolting and jolting
and Frankensteinlike bolting me
to the bed.
The head
this head will no longer be as free
as the thought imagining in me
while hot electrotomoty
burns me to
anonymity
and it's a pity I can't be
a less condusive entity
but the powers that be seem to have it in for me
and I am strapped to non lucidity
in the name of all humanity
don't put a shilling in the meter
Later I meet myself
in a shell of who I used to be in a picture
painted hastily
on a background
which I cannot see
and what was once no longer is or was it ever and did I once was clever too or were the words electricked through the nodes that boded ill?
Will it stay or will it go
somewhere out there
do you know
or are you waiting for the leads that lead you to electric feeds?
Can someone bring me bread and water
call my Mother
call my daughter
or like the lamb led to the slaughter
will I bleed to death?
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 4:38 PM UTC
Joey and the gang invited me for some bowling after our shift.
I was just about to put on my teal shirt when suddenly
I heard two titans exchanging blows beyond a field made of cotton.
This was the most action I've seen in a while.
In a matter of seconds the land was engulfed with familiar shadows.
Audiences were enthralled, sweating, setting each other on fire.
The armies of heaven are coming soon, I shouldn't go to work
And besides, traffic will go from worse to worst at best. Looking like machines dry ******* each other.
Elves start tiptoeing on my roof when titan A landed a right hook on titan B
Caught a glimpse of my feline companion bolting towards the couch.
I started heating water and mixed it with my teabag afterwards.
I let this paper made of mom's warm hugs throw themselves around me.
I sat beside the window and watched the contestants race each other to the finish line.
I find peace in their chaos. I find comfort in their pain.
Watching the Earth get rejuvenated also heals my rusted body.
This is God's best creation for a weary traveller like me.
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 11:33 PM UTC
Meat
and bones
shiver,
trees
naked
branching
on the curved
turquoise
skyline.
Azure,
nothing
hidden,
Spring
bolting
through.
Winter's
white
blanket
long
passed
its Glitter.
Snow
now
a
four
letter
word.
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 7:53 PM UTC
This music
(My music)
It’s getting in my head
Staying there and crawling through my thoughts
Have you ever wondered what it sounds like
To be insane?
Would you like to?
I don’t mind letting you see
A million and one thoughts colliding
And all these brilliant colors being born
One by one
I try to find out all their names
But, there’s a fine line when I try to hear
What they say and what they mean
I lose my place
Simply close my eyes
And let my body become light as air
Becoming one with the sky
I’ve been waiting in the clouds for ages
Died here, born here, lived here
Met myself here, said goodbye to myself here
Somewhere up there
My diary still stays
But there’s a new chapter in my life now
It’s you
This figure that caught my eyes
Stole my soul
I remember watching you walk
Flowers blooming at your feet
Your smile radiant as the sun
This was you
Tried to find out every place you were going
Secretly hiding all these feelings I had
Behind the curtain of my heart
I couldn’t speak, you stole my words
My body quickened at the thought of you
Longing for just a moment
That I could spend with you eternally
And, how lucky I could be
That moment came
How lucky I could be
That moment is here and forever
My love, I look into your eyes and see endless depth
This beautiful expanse of your soul
Stretching out to meet the moon and shadow
I put myself right beside you
Get caught up in this wonderful tug
Between this reality and yours
With delicate hands, you open my chest
Find out what makes me tick
I like that
Something was always in the way
With such ease
You dispelled it, it’s no more
I am free
I am in you
This is my song of a desperate soul
Who found madness conjoined
In everlasting love
I sing it forever
Of how perfection can be found
Right in front of me
This world has grown so colorful
You have been it’s life
My head twirls as butterflies
Moonlit flowers
Sweet white light
All come together around me
I lay down
I soar high above I was ever before
You meet me
Kiss me
Love me
And I’ve found my place
Bodies perfectly interlocking together
This lovely motion
Turning the world and switching the stars
We are the story of the cosmos
All eyes are on us
Darling, just breathe
A thousand hands pulling you under
Do you like that?
Let me roll you over in my mouth
My arms like lightning bolting across your skin
Electricity spinning in the air
We will become the sun
Our love burning so brightly as one
Shining on everyone sleeping
And awake
The story of star-crossed lovers
Etched in the sky
Jun 2, 2010
Jun 2, 2010 at 3:38 AM UTC
May the truth come to you gently
Not stabbing your heart
And bolting you awake at night
There is enough drama
In your life already
It’s hard enough for me
To accept what is
But I know one day
All will be revealed
I wish that day will come to you
Like a sudden panoramic view
Of rolling countryside
That opens up for miles
Before your eyes
With verdant green forests
And fields of long, waving grass
And in the distance
Galloping horses
With chestnut brown manes
The wind blowing softly in the trees
And the clouds scudding along
In silent, graceful procession
The insight granting you
Understanding and acceptance
The means of finding your way back home
The way to healing and peace
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 8:08 PM UTC
I'm dying in this house
this room is filled with laughing gas
yet I'm filled with carbon monoxide
bolting through my body
flying through my fibres.
The toxicity settles beneath my skin
the key is lost.
I touched his blurred face, a poorly painted portrait
and his substance melted in the tips of my tired fingers
and fell through like liquid
soaking me with his being. He washes my face away
and become two conjoined clouds.
Sunrise clears the haze over the horizon.
Mistaken again. I'm losing it
my best friend.
The barriers closed around the prison of thought
yet lust, loss and lies creep in through the slits and cracks.
I sit on my burnt bed
and wonder what could have been if there had been no obstacle?
fire cries from my eyes, and
sand sighs through my lungs.
I still felt the poisoned water ingested in my skin.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 7:00 AM UTC
I’d heard a story in that proverbial once upon a time
(Though its origins are hazy, at best, to me now:
Perhaps something my son heard at Sunday school,
Or part of the never-ending nattering
From the marketing guy at lunchtime,
Maybe cackled by the crazy, toothless blind guy on the 16A bus)
Concerning the programmers who’d worked on a project
In the earliest days of nano-technology,
Creating software for their relative monoliths,
Australopitchecuses of artificial intelligence,
Serving as prototypes for some envisioned universe
Where tiny drones served the whims of some doctor or researcher
Operating unseen and omnipotent behind some microscope or monitor.
The trials went quite smoothly, almost flawlessly,
The models impeccably doing what binary switches
And if-then-else statements decreed,
But the researches noticed that
Just before they executed the final bit of code,
The models would invariably exhibit
A slight hesitation--almost imperceptible, infinitesimal even,
But clearly occurring, nonetheless.
They’d assumed, quite naturally, it was a mere matter of de-bugging,
Some misplaced comma or parentheses among the thousands,
But they reviewed the code any number of dozens of time,
Only to find it was clean as a whistle.
What’s more, they’d found that while the vacillation appeared
At the same point in the process,
It didn’t happen at exactly the same time;
Indeed, they cropped up, relatively speaking, months, even years apart.
One of the white coats jokingly referred to the pause
As the machines “Peggy Lee moment”
(You know, ‘Is that all there is?’)
But no one else involved the project saw the humor.
They’d decided to ignore or accept the quirk, though it was rumored
That it drove a few of the programmers to near-madness,
With one or two of their number bolting the project without notice,
Entering monasteries with the intent
Of shutting themselves off from the outside world
For the rest of their days, and its existence was buried
In reams of footnotes at the end of their final report
(Though as I said, the tale’s source is unclear,
And I am inclined to regard it as apocryphal.)
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 10:00 AM UTC
Lighthouse keeper by the shore, watching life pass he did the most
Eyeing ships, so bright and lively, that would sail near his post
'Til one fateful night one ship seemed to be set ablaze
Gravitating toward the sight that was a rarity in all his days
One door he swung open, leaving his beacon, bolting downstairs
Of peril and risk, he cared not; to him they seemed like minor fares
Fiery reflections undulated from afar as the keeper dashed to shore
Yanking his rowboat into the water, he paddled toward the source
Opening his eyes truly, he awoke to hands without a single oar
Under a guise he would man his post distractedly in the night
Realizing that the ship was a dream, he turned around to a fright
Precariously placed lanterns had fallen, shattering as he slept
And flames began to claim his home and post, as if collecting a debt
Sleep walking had moved him to the shore, by grace he was alive
The lighthouse keeper would rebuild, but this time he would thrive
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 1:39 PM UTC
The horse breathes in the city, the world of unrelenting pistons
And steam from the jingling harness, and the jangling windows
That reflect the bolting sparrows like fire arrows in the coming night,
Viennese darkness is like the smell of the chocolatier mixed with snow,
Sealed in a sachertorte with the alley-crack of the riding whip on coach,
Viennese sunshine is like the baker’s soul, rising on flashing coppers and tins.
Aug 16, 2020
Aug 16, 2020 at 9:25 PM UTC