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Abigail Shaw Aug 2015
You say you’re a ‘boss’, does that mean that I’m God, next,
Time you mess with me you’ll see I have a God complex,
Whatever, I mean this rap’s getting complex,
My effects, they perplex, my ego’s getting convex,
I could say that I’m strawberries but I’m much more like lime,
Acrid, like acid, I rhyme, I’ll keep my clothes on that’s fine,
Your sexisms pasts it’s prime, Gatsby’s acts aren’t fine,
Calling me out is a crime since you’re completely irrelevant,
The orders are mine, YOU strip but you best make it elegant,
I can take off my clothes for fun and still be ******* intelligent,
Dodging your blows, fo’ sho, street talk but still make it eloquent,
I might be teeth, ****, toes but lets make one thing clear,
The only head you’ll be getting is off the top of your beer.
Francie Lynch Nov 2016
BeforeTV

Before TV,
When we were together,
Before growing apart
From father and mother,
We entertained ourselves with song;
All the sisters and brothers.

We gambolled in the backyard,
The clothes line was our zip line,
We fell soft, then hard.

We somehow got a hold of skates,
Not knowing what they're for,
So we took turns,
Laced them on,
To skate on cement floors.

We raised a high jump,
Skipped on the driveway,
Double Dutch and Speed;
We strung a line for volleyball,
Nailed a hoop below the roof,
Played soccer in the hall.
We paddled ping-pong on the table;
Our household freedom
Made us as grateful
As animals in a well-kept stable.

Some winters we'd flood the back,
And shoot and slide until the cracks
Turned to puddles,
Then I'd sail popsiclestick boats
Over oceans,
To distant folks.

On the frontwalk we tossed our stones,
Landing on the moon,
And hopscotch til we went for soup
And soda bread and **** milk.

If we had a ball and bat,
Chances are we'd not come back
'til the sun went down;
And then,
When the stars came out,
We'd *Hide and Seek,

Til the last one'd shout,  Home Free.
With dirt and patchwork dungarees,
We went in
For good-night tea.

Weren't we the normal family?

Then we got our first T.V.

After T.V.

We were landed,
Not gentry,
And we started channelling
U.S. T.V.

We weren't polite like Cartwrights,
Nor guaranteed Lil' Joe's birthright.

The sisters locked on Patty Duke,
Then dressed the same
To get the look,
So they ditched their Wellie boots.


We'd lie on the floor,
Stuck like glue,
On Sundays watch Ed's Big Shoe.
We didn't know the sun had left,
Our eyes were on the TV set.

The Cleaver boys still got dessert,
Though leaving green beans on their plate,
Left ice-cream and sweet chocolate cake.
We'd stare confused, yet salivate;
Such treats and food we'd never waste.

The Douglas boys had single beds,
En suites, bathrobes,
Hair on their heads;
Pillows and open windows,
And locks on doors,
They weren't co-ed.
We slept, at least, two to a bed,
Four to a room, two bedspreads.
We slept on mattresses with stinging springs,
Torn and traced with stale *****.
In the hot and humid summer,
In bathing suits
We'd swim in slumber.
Our small window couldn't open,
We roasted in our four walled oven.

We watched Lassie and Gomer Pyle,
Green Acres' Arnold had us beguiled.
We didn't get Father Knows Best,
His gentleness raised our regrets.
Lucy and Ricky, an odd couple,
Were always getting into trouble,
Like Fred and best bud, Barney Rubble.

Were these the models to emulate,
To blend in North of the United States?

These families had open conversations,
Shared their thoughts without hesitation.
Mine were full of consternation,
And alien, like My Favourite Martian.

We grew in a foreign land,
Beached like the cast on Gilligan.

Surely, we were Lost in Space,
Separate from the human race.
No gyroscope to set direction,
To separate fact from fiction.

We weren't stupid,
We were astute;
We weren't the ones on our TV.
We were a singular family.

Post T.V.

We numbered ten at the start,
Then aged and drifted far apart;
We can't gather to watch TV,
As we were once wont to be.
But I remember Ernest T.,
Throwing rocks to win Charlene,
And arrested by Sheriff Andy.
We laughed at all the silly doings
Of Barney, and Thelma Lou's wooings.

I send e-mails and textual banter,
(One brother still likes writing letters),
Reminding me of our early days,
How TV censured our innocent ways.

We never were small screen.
We emigrated to Canada from Ireland in 1957. A brave new world.
Simon Soane Mar 2019
I’d hazard a guess there aren’t many folk who don’t know the tales of Harry, Hermione and Ron
and how with a cast of a multitude of friends they defeated Voldemort with aplomb,
rightly these heroic adventures are held in the highest regard,
and will be told forever by musicians, singers and bards,
these stories will be remembered, people will talk of those courageous and brave
and how they turned the evil tide of The Dark Lord with everything they gave,
how they dispelled the magic of horror with the strength of the Gryffindor lion,
but less well known than this wonder is the fable of Tayrn and her Ryan.
R and T arrived to Hogwarts  10  years after He Who Can Not Be Named was vanquished in the great struggle,
Tayrn was pure wizard born whereas Ryan was pure muggle,
both took to wizarding school easily and did well in all their classes,
of course Tayrn was a hit with the lads and Ryan a swoon with the lasses,
but it didn’t matter they gave all folk in their year at Hogwarts an involuntary love shudder
because ace Tayrn and Ryan only had eyes for each other!
Their wonderful sweet love was easy and went without a hitch,
spent Saturdays gazing at each other when they should have been watching Quidditch,
hand in hand they skipped around The Forbidden Forest, their romance knowing no rift,
saying hello to a friendly centur or a flying hippogriff,
they galloped around Diagon Alley, their souls full of cheer,
or sat relaxed and tranquil in The Leaky Cauldron sipping butter beer.
T and R were ace at spells, Tayrn’s best was with a wand swish creating healing
and Ryan’s wonderful arty prowess was painting The Sistine Chapel on any ceiling;
yes they were each other’s equal in the way they weaved the magic from above
and this is one of the reasons they were very much in love.
One night T and R were going on one of their romantic walks
and decided to have a jaunt to a wonderful clearing just near Hogwarts,
they sauntered through the darkening evening with a song on their lips,
swaggered along the green with the music of love on their hips,
as they got to the secluded clearing they were anticipating with glee each other’s hold
but then all of a sudden they started feeling very cold.
They both noticed that the summer grass was covered in a blanket of frost,
the trees were looking pale, freezing, withdrawn and lost,
the air was filled with frigidity and held the hints of scare,
the flowers were wilting with chilled terror, bloom given way to despair,
as Tayrn and Ryan wondered what was the cause of such floral bad health
just a few yards away  the answer revealed itself;
over a hill came a hooded figure that immediately brought fright to the fore
as Tayrn and Ryan paid attention in Defence Against The Dark Arts they instantly recognised it as a dementor,
but they noticed something different about this one, it was nearly trebled in size,
and had a deeper blackness where should have been it’s eyes.
Being skilled at magic they knew what they had to do to avoid any harm
so both quickly fired off their best Patronus Charm,
but these spells had no effect, the huge dementor merely shrugged them off
and they could have sworn beneath it’s hood it let out a derisive scoff.
The enormous dementor hovered over Tayrn and Ryan and from its mouth emerged a hiss,
as it prepared to give the two lovers their final goodbye kiss,
but as it stooped over them with it’s awful deathly hue
T and R looked into each other’s eyes and figured out what they were going to do;
they remembered in one class learning about the bravest man Hogwarts had ever knew
and how he was able to hoodwink The Dark Lord with a love strong, solid and true,
how Snape drew on his love of Lilly to ride through any storm,
even on his darkest night it was what kept him warm,
so Tayrn and Ryan pushed their wands together and thought of beautiful Severus
and how they both too shared the romantic love buzz,
and channelling the wonder of that special feeling thus
they both pointed their wands in unison and screamed Expelliarmus!
Emitted from the tip of each wand was the half of a love heart projected from each soul
that both came together to create the fantastic whole,
in the shine of such love the vast dementor instantly recoiled,
knowing that it’s draining wish was in no doubt foiled,
it writhed around and in the glare of joy did it’s nefarious purpose erode,
every bleak and blank about it started to corrode,
the dementor slowly ebbed away until all of it did go
and in it’s place was left a striking brown young doe,
it bowed it’s head to Tayrn and Ryan and then it flew into the trees,
gliding with majesty on the sweet night breeze.
Awed by what had happened Ryan and Tayrn turned and started to walk back to the dorm,
aware of what occurred was special and not the norm,
but then they stopped in their tracks and at the same time both did say,
“oh my beautiful love, I know  I’m going to marry you someday!”
i'm trying to think through the static
and my eyes don't focus right
but i was wondering
what it meant to feel hungry

or just tell someone how i feel

i
can't
remember
the last
time
i was
honest
about
how i
felt

and
i
don't
...
know

it's been
...
a while
...

hello, hello?

my thoughts resound in my head
annh Apr 2019
I do opine that a constant life, although agreeable in its construction and longevity, may render its subject without two sympathetic words to rub together.
‘Which of all my important nothings shall I tell you first?’
- Jane Austen
ryn Jan 2018
I feel like river water.
And I don’t belong to stagnancy,
yet I’m caught in a lake.

•••

I’m destined
to move silt and sediment.
And overturn
submerged pebbles
so they won’t see
the green of moss.

I’m meant to surge
and eat into banks
so I could be split -
to make more of me...

My reach would extend
far and wide -
like scraggly fingers
grabbing at the
face of the earth.

My energy channelling
through careless forks
and into slimmer branches.


•••

My soul is river water....
And my heart renounces
the throne to idleness.

Yet I am,
but a lake.
something in my world broke
- i sometimes think to myself

i don't feel very young sometimes

i feel i have lived a thousand lives
and


and
i don't know if this is the way i'm supposed to feel

i feel empty and lifeless
like i can't hold a conversation
these days
not small
not big

i don't think i'm very interesting
or young
these days

maybe i never was?
Ignatius Hosiana May 2016
As long as you're in my life I'll always be fine
You're the drug I need for my sores to heal
So I can as well get as many sores because I have you
You caution me against getting addicted to you but
I can't help it...you're really such a sweet person...
I have no choice... I enjoy you...you speak to my heart...
your words cover up my wounds and your soft voice steals my pain...
I really don't care about the end because the now is
and will always be a thing I live to remember...
whatever the end sweet or bitter, grotesque or beautiful I'll abide by it
otherwise thank you for this moment, for enduring my desperation and cries...
Thank you for finding and not giving up on me...
I think I should be more grateful for I'm like the trenches,
I might be channelling the waters to the drain
but you are my rain that washes me clean...
I love you more each day that goes by and I'm even afraid,
love might cease to define what I feel for you...towards us...
You've given my dark clouds a silver lining...
you've given my blemished soul a cleansing...
you've given me and my broken heart a chance to start again...
you've given me what I'd given up praying for...
the miracle of a sweet friend I can count on...
sweetness that never fades, sweetness I will always relish
you complete me and even if someday you break my heart
I will always love you... I will love you even after you forget about me
your name will go with me to the grave
for you taught me the meaning of being brave
Mark Sep 2019
Channelling Nostradamus from the sixteenth century
Did you see what you just wrote
Or did you just dream what we see?
When your prophecies come true
I'll say, You only had one view
So good luck to you and your future note
One shan't believe from an invisible visionary

When I wish upon a **** star
It makes me appreciate who we are
Everything that she'll be requiring
I'll think about you and make it inspiring

The ******* ***** always seems to wear lingerie
That always looks, just a little ******
But never ever, do they slavishly try
To imitate their true identity or culture
Not like those Kardashian dogs, that dress up
Always trying to stylise society, for a very large fee
Speaking of canines, where's that poodle named Paris
She had some real talent, didn't she?

When I wish upon a **** star
It makes me appreciate who we are
Everything that she'll be requiring
I'll think about you and make it inspiring

I wish upon a **** star of mine
Whilst screaming up to ones heaven
Most pussycats lives, end in about nine
But my time was all over, within almost seven
Maybe I really could, make it all alone
On this place god calls, my extraordinary rendition?
Or shall I live this false life, as some sort of robotic clone
Not truly knowing oneself, therefore, failing my own audition?

When I wish upon a **** star
It makes me appreciate who we are
Everything that she'll be requiring
I'll think about you and make it inspiring

Well, just get back on that bronco horse, named Toff
Dust off that hat, once worn by certain gent
For they will forever try and attempt to buck you off
You the rider, of this very serious event
So, forget about the fame and good times
and the overhyped lives of most Hollywood stars
Live within your means and save your silver dimes
In your half empty or half full, glass money jars

When I wish upon a **** star
It makes me appreciate who we are
Everything that she'll be requiring
I'll think about you and make it inspiring

When I wish upon a **** star
My dreams start to become truth by far.
neth jones Nov 2018
hand on feather
I swear to you
I intended no harm
I just played by the weather
and found you in shared experience

a charm was built
and I was refracted
(prism motes)
like an animal channelling
I played aspects as bones
when all you wanted was human touch
and not this ;
this baffling mating behaviour
Instruction to self : break this apart and savage
David Barr Dec 2013
I have openly altered my state of consciousness and have connected with astral planes where the channelling of transcendental energy into the room has occurred through vibrations from the soul of music.
A spellbinding stream of conscious connectedness truly pulsates through unseen realms of reality.
In order to participate, we must understand that healing cannot be defined by the limitations of familiar vocabulary. Therefore, let us permit shamanic drumming to throb within the network of our being.
Thank you. I can feel your transparency.
Aaron LaLux Sep 2019
Love is love,
it’s not that complicated,
Love does not care what color or *** you or your love is,
because Love is all inclusive it doesn’t discriminate,

Love is colorblind,
Love Sees No Color Love wears Cross Colours jumpers,
Love is abundant, just ask Russell Simmons or Gloria Carter,
or her baby Jay Z or anyone else who is an authentic Lover,

Love is unconditional & it’s available to everyone,
regardless of class social status religion region or color,

it’s okay to feel good, smile you deserve it,
dedicate yourself to love, believe me it’s worth it,

you get what you give so give 100%,

remember to forget & forgive them, even if they’re not perfect,
because no person walking this earth’s surface is,
but you can still find yourself a good girlfriend or boyfriend,
as long as you’re willing to work with them,
& you two can still be your own version of Bonnie & Clyde,
can still be in love & serve them with services,

there’s wisdom in these verses here,
modern day scriptures for gangstas & hipsters,
they don’t call him LaLux or J-Hova for nothing,
no fronting true strength requires no crutches or addictions,

just enough Dedication as Lil Wayne to get to 10,000 hours,
as laid out well by Macklemore or Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers,

a Master of Self a ******* from Hell,
***** as hell but he cleans up well
I own all my Master,
you should probably own yours as well,

well,
the floods are coming, there’s some prophecy for you,
either ride the Tidal wave or get washed straight away,
washing the straight leg green jeans clean so there’s no proof,

only proof is us see our success & ourselves are Self Evident,
only witness God won’t testify against our business interest,
the evidence is obvious see we are all sovereign entities,
you are your own country so you are your own president,
a one person army a one person president,
who roams the whole globe everywhere’s their residence,
channelling these visions into verses of the present tense,
told you before I’m not a business man I’m a business, man...

Smile is continued in THHT3...

∆ LaLux ∆

an excerpt from poem #24 of
THHT3: The Hollywood Hills Trilogy 3
available on Amazon here:
www.amazon.com/dp/1950780023

If you've read this far I'd like to show my appreciation by buying you a copy of THHT3 from Amazon myself, seriously, for free. Just send me a Message here or on IG @aaronlaux
nivek Sep 2019
channelling more than observation
getting out of the way of love
this is no passive encounter
-with words arranged just so
-so that the in-between unseen
may flourish, become known.
Nate Bradshaw Jul 2011
I’ve never been a member of the blue-place,
for longer than 30 minutes,
before abusing the deactivate button,
I guess i’m channelling my inner-old-person,
By asking numbers to be pressed instead of keys
My ‘hi’s’ and ‘goodbyes’ became signposts screaming - ‘ADD ME, even though you couldnt care less
Max Hale Oct 2012
Art
Art or at least my art is cerebral and visionary
I never wanted it to be a quick fix
Timely and considered but flowing and free
Carefully looking, seeing, recording
Not in a photographic way
But my interpreted placement of shapes and brush
Engrossed in a silent world of gathering
Taking the subject feed and channelling it
Through my eyes and round my joyful heart
Stroking my soul and stimulating my whole body
Finally the exit of passion and feelings as placement
Of pigment onto canvas, carefully yet with a flourish
All that time within me
A collection of emotions, moods and cells,
Racing them down through the handle, ferrule and bristles
Then I pour myself out as a painting
Every one a self portrait
Aduain Nov 2018
Playing to the heartbeat
Tub thumping Drumbeat
Overwhelming Synth wave
Channelling the Bass slave
Guitar jams, room shaking
Screaming voices, larynx aching

Cello in the background
Violins make mellow sound
The Snare an unholy snap
A Tambourine a mighty slap
The Cymbals crash
A Tom Tom smash
Chord change impending
Middle eight unending

Digital and analogue
Recording in its final slog
Final verse is looming
With the Bass Drum booming
The soloist’s precision
Fulfils the final vision

Aduain
Edward Coles Nov 2014
She arches her back on the yoga mat,
channelling Durdle Door.
In full-length breath
and composed hypertension,
she remains unmoved
as the world about her
suffers to mass
and the moving ocean floor.

Well-versed in the effects of cold air
and rhythmic bombardment,
she has learned a stillness
to rival the effects of pink wine
on her nerves
and her taste for cigarettes.
My sweet Venusian,
despite physical prowess,

cannot sustain her poses
against time and internalised illness.
C
Andrew M Bell May 2022
Mischief light fills his eyes
and he can’t believe his ears.
His father is giving him permission
to smash a plate on the concrete driveway.

Mum’s picked up a nice line in Crown Lynn retro plates
in a second-hand shop in Timaru
and she’s culling hard.
Tiny chip on the underside of the rim, felt but unseen,
and it’s unsentimentally consigned
to the dustbin of history
or at least some anonymous landfill.

Dad sees an opportunity for secret boy business,
sanctioned vandalism. “Don’t tell Mum. She wouldn’t approve.”

That boy’s blue eyes are
charged with adrenalin
when that white innocence shatters
in a porcelain explosion.

“Do you feel a little bit Greek?” Dad asks
and is met with incomprehension.

 Andrew M. Bell
The poet wishes to acknowledge Catalyst, the literary magazine in which this poem first appeared.
Mark McIntosh Apr 2015
baptism
from the clouds
washes away
channelling to the harbour

broken branches
in gutters
leaves strewn
across footpaths

wild urban obstacles
puddles stay
wet socks
umbrella struggles

a moment of teasing
blue drifts to
grey portents
time enough

to clear eaves
unblock drains
prepare for
another cleansing
Sydney has experienced our worst ongoing storms over the last three days. A category 1 cyclone. This is part of my current interest in minimal poems and trying to express a lot economically.
whateva Dec 2015
whether cutting, drinking, or getting high, self harm is a way of taking pain and channelling it into a manageable form. the problem starts when the pain is a daily part of life. you lose sight of your own standards and what's acceptable once you start getting drunk or slitting your wrists just to make it through another long night of misery.

but you see, here's the thing: it starts getting worse. at first, it was manageable, at first you could keep it a secret that not even the ones closest to you could know, but then slowly, it becomes noticeable. you change. you're not the person you were before, you're different.

you don't have the same life in your eyes anymore. you hide the scars. you make excuses as to why you're tired. you say you were just being weird when you were really spouting drunken nonsense. of course it's embarrassing, of course it's something you can't just talk about and get over. how dare you turn to substance abuse to get away from your problem? there's just no shame anymore. there's nothing anymore, really. you're a shell of who you once were.  how dare you tear into your skin just to ******* feel something? how dare you bleed on the bathroom floor and stain all the white towels with your impure blood? how dare you tear about your family and your friends. why is it so ******* easy for you? why can't you just ******* stop?

everyone always says "it's for attention", but I'm not tearing into my flesh to hear that someone might actually care, I'm not standing in front of the dim refrigerator light with a half empty bottle of ***** in hopes that someone will stop me. i'm doing this because I need to.

if someone found out, it wouldn't be an act of caring. my friends and family would see me as some sort of tourniquet, but the ****** kind. the kind behind held together by really cheap duct tape. they'll also say I'm making it up in my head, but how can I be making it up when the blood runs out of my wrist like water flows down the Nile?

they tell you doing these things won't fix your problems; you know that. deep down you know you CAN'T fix your problems. you're not brave enough to face them. you're not ready to change. after all, you have this under control, right? it's not like its an addiction. you can only imagine what everyone thinks of you when they find out about what you're doing to yourself. their silence says everything.

when the end of your fight against addiction is near, you can feel it. you can feel yourself getting worse. you can feel your body get heavier, your bones start cracking underneath all of the pressure. one day, it eventually gets too bad. you drink a little too much. you fall down. you hit your head. no one is there to hear your sobs or cries for help. or maybe it ends a different way, maybe it's a sliced vein but you're surrounded by your family. they can't do anything. they can't stitch up your slashes. you die in a hospital bed with tears coming from your eyes because of the grave mistake you made that you can't change. isn't this what you wanted? you didn't want anyone to help. besides, couldn't you control it anyway?

afterall, it wasn't an addiction, right?
Boy Gaskell Feb 2014
"Happy Birthday dear..."

I start half way through the bent jingle which became more
Common by chanting all the words. That awkward sense
Of mutual buddies forgetting the name of the cocky boy
Blowing out the wax that burns through the mixture raw.
Faces envious of this attention seeker, while sat on a fence
Forcing that smile. The age he can be excused by his toy.

As one turns arrogant adolescent, the other takes childish
Place on the cute thrown. Not today, the world can wait,
But not for long as time shifts further down many graves.
The countdown begins when leaves grow onto the mildest
Weather that will warm the old cold hearts at such a rate.
Not all fret, soon more birthdays will join while kids crave.

The teen’s decision isn't fate or destiny, it's just how they
Live a life purely between lines of crack. To be so rotten
Is a crime in any mature life. Thank God they are care free.
How soon will they learn to care for the gift that they pray
And how it differs from the cracks that will be forgotten.
Shame for us not to embrace time. Each one pushed into

The ground swept away by the blink of old men's eyes.
Devastation rid across lands by generations over turned.
Look out your window; see the sky break, fall into hot ash,
Burning pretty skin which brought tragedy to all those fines.
In the bowls of hell the scent grew strong. Women yearned,
They felt so careful not casting felony by using other cash,

Knowing full well that it was their fault for this mad panic.
Think how the boy's maternal role must be copying with all
The accidents around her. Fingers pouring out all the blood
Of a false economy, channelling some wizards dying magic.
The virus spreading across all borders with no place to fall.
The conspiracies becoming ridiculous, dragged thru mud.

"Judgement Day draws nearer, who will blame the ******"
Zoe Irvine Nov 2012
I'm grieving your loss
I'm mourning your choice
I'm hurting for you in my arms
But not in my heart

My heart has found spring
And is waiting for me
To catch up

I know me too well
Your comfort distracts me
I seek it to see me
Less clearly

Your hands pull me in
To embrace
And invisible tears soak my cheeks

If I love you was never an option
Then how is goodbye?

Feeling clever and calm
I breathe in
Easily

And until you next greet me
I'll know
What I know

Hello
I love you
Goodbye

And then.......

An arrival distracts me
Dances in my mind
118 118
Gets my number

Got my attention
Into a spin
Along with my legs

Let's get along
Get to know
Get out of this place
And into our space

Impatient
Channelling energy
Into unmentionables
Choosing to focus on not-you

Attached to detachment
Amassing beliefs
Between birthdays

I believe
In that
Which I know not

The latest learning
To linger on my lips
In my head

As the music rises
I slip out of the room
And into a quiet
Reflection

I have high hopes
For you
And I

I am high
With hope
And believing

Goodbye
I love you
Hello
Poetry as a painting.
Far from lazy.
Understanding each day.
My aura is like an ultra violet ray.
My flow never leaves.
Even in below zero degrees
I will no longer freeze.
Volcanic activities
triggered by a small breeze.
I confess I spoke to spirits
broke my fingers when I wrote those lyrics
Then passed out on a boat in Venice
. The Wireless is now off.
Talk.
Feels like I ain't got no pulse.
The camera caught me channelling in thought but it's not my fault. 
Dead tones in the ocean.
Nuclear implosion.
They gave me the job out of no where.
Writing carbon monoxide poems.
A prophet helping those find their own....
"We are now learning that Armageddon is not what it used to be. It is now primarily psychological and astrological "
@jeancarlo_ochosi
The message from the master acts faster before any disaster happens. I hate that evil matters. Frequencies are shifting. Planet earth is the school. Attention is the lesson. Experimenting. Multiple mixed messages. The latent powers of the human mind I was designed to evolve the populace who are falling far behind. Celestial visits. Emerging with my spirits. I discovered physics through my lyrics. Clairvoyantly channelling the answers to the great equations. I am still the great oracle. I can see into the future the dollar is now render useless basic energy has moved my mind I am now a computer. The code *******. He discovered a world like no other from the perspective of the planet we are all sisters and brothers. The galaxy is calling. I see beams. It's like swimming in a stream but this is nothing more then a dream. Beyond this matrix. My prototype is basic the future will reboot ya. Conciseness. Raise it.
Quinn Oct 2014
i've spent my life channelling
my anger because the people
around me never accept
the words that i need to say

i am a selfish slob who knows
nothing, forever, i am a child
with a messy bedroom, a *****
who just doesn't know when
to stop, a crazed woman with
too many emotions, a drama
queen spinning out of control,
a brat with bad intentions

i know who i am - it has taken
strange and twisted roads to know
the face that stares back at me
in the mirror - but i do know her

i do not wish for anyone else
to know her if the knowing does
not come naturally, if it is forced
and unpleasant, then i would
rather be alone with her

for me, the knowing is all that
i have ever wanted or needed,
the most honest relationship
i have ever had is with myself
Matilda Feb 2019
Melting mechanically into nothingness, hiding behind my own imperfections.
Fading inside, no one notices, no one notices.
It's ok though I’ll be ok, I always make it through.

Channelling pain to make my own pains disappear; looking down at my open palms wine red crescent moons passing across my vision.
I look up; It's my secret.
Closing my fist; exposing my broken nails.

A way of coping?
Or a way of avoiding?

Having to scream having to cry.
In my blurred vision, I look up, but there's no one nothing just white.
There's no one, I need someone, there's no one.

They say their there for me. They say their here.
But when I say, they say I talk too much.
When I don’t they ask what’s wrong.
A continuous circle.

Never ending?
Or never beginning?
Daisy Chain Dec 2012
Expression does not conjure what is needed
the delicacy of what I feel cannot be sown
the thread too light, the light too bright
what I know, I fear cannot be known

The tender flowing of you to me
that channelling, that freedom of being
only in your presence can I not suffer myself
For I only see you and nothing else.
jules May 2020
she is blossoming
her truth
discovering the wisdom
within her higher self
channelling divine energy
she is mother earth’s child.

breathing in
the morning sky
feeling soft grass
beneath her feet
hearing the wind
whisper gently
her lover
by her side.

it was then
that she realized
she was not alone;

everything is interconnected.
she is a child of the universe.
If there is love in this world, there is hate.
Where there is light, there is darkness lurking in the shadows.
We are all meant to hate and love, it's our destiny as humans.

We are ultimately doomed to destroy ourselves, it may not be you who decides to wreak havoc, but there's someone out there, who once felt love, and is now channelling that long lost love, into hatred. Hatred will consume you, hatred will ultimately change who you are, hatred, will make you lose sight of yourself.

I'm usually not one to hate, but I guess I haven't entirely grasped the concept of love fully either.
alas, we go on, marching like we know everything.
We don't know ****.
Braedon Sep 2018
Cryin my eyes out, hurting
Grippin my pillow, lonely
Long, cold nights, unworthy
Lonely dark corners, safeplace
Missing that connection, broken
Thousands of thoughts channelling in my head, restless
Holding myself in unbalance, fearing
I’m me,
Expect I’m not, I’m not the thing I see in the mirror
I’m cold, dark, empty, a lost boy
Please find me
Before the real me is… gone
Love and hold me, don’t break this fragile soul,
I’m one in 7 billion, don’t lose me.
Please don’t abuse or misuse.
I’m cold and empty today,
And I’m just hoping you will stay.
Well, for years i've struggled with finding my identity and my true purpose in life.
The faces come at me from the wall behind the panelling
I see them all, the bearded, the ******'s, the sinners and saints, faces that ain't and faces that are,
faces by far are the scariest things that I've ever seen.

I'm channelling my energy
wanting some sympathy.
needing to find empathy
I find instead
apathy.

Look at me,
faces that face me
laugh and debase me
try to erase me.

I am the magnet for
faces that set like a stone.

Leave me
alone
but
the face is still there
faces and where
am I?
under the bed
pulling the hair from my head
why don't they leave me alone?
The dead have time on their hands and on their side.
Ke-caster Dec 2018
Round the circle we all sit
As a group reciting ****
Again just like the night before
Channelling hyena packs
The night alive with stoner's laughs

Double double
Puff and pass
Hold your breath until it laps

Heavy hits from bottle bongs
Sat  beatboxing old school songs
Passing round fermented potions
Childish jokes and puerile motions

Double double
Puff and pass
Hold your breath until it laps

Drifting off in ones and two
Mushrooms picked and set to brew
Mellow greens in china skin
Heady smoke smell covers sins

Double double
Puff and pass
Hold your breath until it laps

Acid tabs as foreheads sag
Hard liquor hits to beat the flag
Coke on mirrors razored fine
Crushed up E laid out in lines
Prolonged highs that last for hours
Bumps from Yale keys full of powders
Endorphins drop so fuel the need
Satisfying primal greeds

Double double, double stuff
These papers tight and start the tuck
Roll it up and stick it down
Set alight and pass it round
And by the burning in my lungs
Something potent this way comes.
Ripping off and devaluing Shakespeare....sorry.
Also getting nostalgic about a misspent youth.
aurora kastanias Oct 2017
In a Universe fourteen billion years old, a galaxy
Amongst two trillion others moves, through space
At two point one kilometres per hour, pulled
By a gravitational focal point once named, the Great
Attractor and now known, to be grander than supposed.

At the edge of it a star out of many more, collects
Planets to follow its orbit around its core. Amid them,
A terrestrial one ten billion years younger sets,
The grounds for life to spring where evolution’s course
Gives birth to an extraordinary creature like none before.

Destined to mature a mind capable of questioning,
Understanding and develop a thought, budding
Into a creator itself of concepts built by imagination.
Its first ancestor two million years old, its father
Two hundred and fifty thousand, make modern

Human, **** sapiens, a baby on the timeline
Of cosmic history, playing with toys it has constructed,
To learn only subsequently how to use them. Retracing
Steps back to present, to look at humanity with indulgence,
Through the loving eyes of parents, who never turn them

Blind. Reprimanding its mistakes and disasters,
We are all guilty as charged, with the sole ambition
Of channelling its consciousness for it to bloom,
Fulfil its potential, as it acknowledges its blunders
And corrects direction.

Sure some may view the world as grotesque, with
“Chronic adversity and whimsical exuberance”, witnessing
“Savage wars, apocalyptic climate change, plastic ocean
Pollution, nuclear weapon proliferation, overpopulation,
Immigrant crises, everlasting animal cruelty” and more.

Though if denial of it all would be an insult to intelligence,
Failing to see the kid’s good deeds would be a slight,
To humanity and the Universe deciding to give it life.
The toddler is learning to walk, creating meaningful
Relationships, discerning right from wrong. Voluntarily

Willing to make amend, unfollow blindly rulers’ greed
For conquest, power and neglect, desperately seeking
To separate its waste, hoping for recycling to help,
Clean dirtied waters, soils and air, boycotting businesses
Linked, to weapon industries to cease, being a murderer.

Harbouring fellow humans trapped, in critical situations
We are all responsible for, turning towards vegetation
To feed itself and newcomers, burning furs, pouring
Water on fires, while elephants thank us for not stealing,
Their tusks to make ivory jewels and piano keynotes.

So my dear friend rest assure, humankind will continue
To evolve. In the process indeed it will find a way
To live in harmony with its equals and its world,
Until the day, like any other species before it, it will
Go extinct to be replaced, by something different.

For nature also implements its endless creativity,
Next invention of which, we might as well be,
Primitive ancestors.
On humanity and evolution
nivek Jan 10
Take no pleasure in killing
but its the Rat in the loft
-or me.
So traps set with Crunchy Nut Peanut Butter
and the wait; for the sound of the 'SNAP'... Gotcha!

— The End —