"circuiting" poems
There's electric energy between us
And all I want to do is kiss you
Short-circuiting my heart
As our hands intertwine
I can feel your body tense
As my fingers grace your hips
I want to touch you everywhere
From your fingertips
To your lips
My hands dance across your skin
And I wonder if you feel it too
The immense craving
Driven by this intimacy
Every touch feels like the first
Intense and exciting
I've never felt this much emotion before
Especially through physical contact
As your body arches against mine
I feel it through every nerve
But I also feel it in my soul
I am undeniably in love with you
And this is more than just physical
Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 3:23 PM UTC
A desperate desperado shivering as the sun sets,
casts it's silky shadows upon the hollows below.
Beneath the cascading denizens of light,
a puff of smoke waltzes across the December sky,
a patient without his insurance with nothing left but
callous empty third-person reassurance,
"everything will be better" as she said.
But better is always easy when your hand isn't writing the letter.
Save your proverbs for an open ear,
this one is half deaf and full of itself,
despite your intent,
your lack of action perpetuates malcontent.
After all we're all just passing moments
gone and forgotten, evicted,
convicted of being a gutless mime,
going through the motions,
minus a true notion.
A confused calculator short circuiting under an oil leak
spitting out numbers, complicating already complicated complexities
subtracting numerals adding funerals
dividing families multiplying tragedies
It's just a numbers game, and we can't participate
we're just the studio audience, recorded live without any life.
Flashing signs tell us when to laugh and when to cry,
pre-determined automated messages contrived to convince.
And I'm stuck spinning in the corner,
with my hands on my head.
Senselessly blurting out: Why?!
But don't mind me, I'm just another lost soul
trapped with my head in the sky.
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 11:59 AM UTC
I read a sign on the interstate driving home today
‘expect the unexpected’
The wires in my brain are short circuiting again
And I feel myself slipping on black ice
I think I may have hit my head
Days seem like seconds
They jump back and forth like a game of hopscotch
Making me forget homework was due today
and not next week
Winter has come and gone
But my body still moves in slow motion, frozen
Unable to thaw even in the hottest shower
Even when my skin is bright red and burning
My room is a stagnant body of water
The walls seem to know how to breathe
Drawing closer with each inhale
And I am terribly claustrophobic
How can I expect the unexpected
when I knew this was coming?
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 11:38 AM UTC
your name rings so loudly
in my mind
that i cannot hear anything else
your touch was like a
roundhouse kick to my brain
short circuiting everything inside
your love was like a glacial age
your cold nature
****** everything in dry
your departure was like a nightmare
one where time is elapsed
and you don’t remember my name -
you don’t like me like that.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
Sometimes I get so tired of feeling like a series of chemical reactions
Like once these electric pulses flow from my brain stem
through my wires of vessels and veins to the tips of my fingers
I am a puppet to the robotics of biology
Strung by my nerves and pulled by my emotions,
I cannot control these tears
Stupidity is merely short circuiting,
and maybe I just need to recharge
I think this taste in my mouth is acid;
my teeth are batteries leaking this energy
Onto my tongue and my lips
These are the loudest parts of this machine,
But each word, each kiss is not nearly as loud
As the programming in my mind
Maybe that's why I'm just a bunch of ****** gears and twisted cables
Because all this code of love and lust
Is a combination waiting to combust
And I feel unable to contain it
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 12:51 AM UTC
I remember when your words were a caress
But now that's gone and you're all business
It's not just warm touch I miss but how you were so present even when virtual
Now you're short circuiting the connection that was physical and emotional, allowing only intellectual or spiritual.
Affection requires all those elements.....
But you seem to have no patience for sentiment
You say I'm just nostalgic for the romance,
And these are the realities of a relationship at Long Distance.
So I wonder if I've committed to a love that won't last....
Because I do want the romance and won't settle for something half assed.
Where's the open hearted warrior who arose to love's divine quest?
Remember when you promised to treat me like I'm precious?
How quickly you forgot that vow
Or maybe you don't remember how
Because for months despite the miles we were so close
And I did feel cherished....but where is that man my heart chose?
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 2:25 PM UTC
I want you like the Colorado clouds
want to pour rain over the Californian desert.
Please, I am thirsty. Quench me.
Let me drink your nectar — it tastes like sunshine.
Loyally I will suckle your pistil,
even after the reason you ignored me did.
Relax — I want you...at ease.
It's OK — I want you...happy.
Don't worry — I want you...dreaming.
Come to bed with me
Grab my cheeks and squeeze them.
I am a child.
Tell me my eyes are galaxies
you want to swim in.
Your breath tastes like stale beer
but I steal kisses selfishly.
They tickle my ******
short-circuiting me to a cloud.
I am in your cloud.
I am rain.
Cross the ridge and
let me pour.
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
From the very beginning you’ve had thunder in your mind
and lightning in your heart-you struck with no warning,
Beautiful and awesome and all-consuming.
You stirred up pain like a hurricane,
Short circuiting logic and reason with beauty and fire.
Forest fires often raced through your veins-
Although one could argue for arson,
Boys starting gasoline- soaked infernos that burned bright and died,
Leaving blackened roots behind.
You took the whole world in stride,
Stepping like landslides the earth moved beneath you;
You left victims in your wake,
Shaken and changed by the shape of your feet.
You felt changes like earthquakes.
Buildings shattered with your realizations,
The glass fragmenting into opinions ideas connections that left you shaken.
Your anger erupted like volcanoes-
Emotions bubbling under the surface until they blew sky high,
Magma, hot and molten that spat up and consumed everything in its path.
Depression hit you like a tsunami.
A monumental wave that roared up
And crashed
over everything and everyone that ever loved you.
Then there was drought,
All the distractions died out and your cracks beginning to show,
Widening as you lose yourself in the ebb and flow of compassion.
And your future is as uncertain as a tornado.
It’s up in the air and we don’t know where it’s going to touch down;
Which house it’s going to rip apart next.
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 8:55 PM UTC
*Different breeds of the same very greed
Variant creeds many of the desire same
Different loves, heart the same so very lame,
Thoughts many from a brain conditioned.
It isn't me...Am I what when that YOU divine
Teases,taunts,cajoles me and short circuits
This circle vicious, cycle of lives and thoughts?
Then verily am I a soul unbonded and Free,
Living constant with possibilities all unbound.*
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 5:04 PM UTC
Ghost
In my head
Shrieking around and pulling plugs
All my circuits
Run
So wild
I hear techno
Synthesized
And my eyes
Turn circles
Inside out
Ghost in my blood
Pulmonary pulling
My lungs
Breathing so wild
Beating my drums
All my circuits
Running wired
Dancing on Red Bulls
And I'm still tired
I'm so scared
Ghost in my head
Whispering anesthesia
Chanting sacred words
Hallucinations
Form apparitions
Under my bed
Ghost in my invitation
Boo I love you
But I'm better off dead
Ghost in my
Ghost in my blood
Shrieking in love
Running through walls
All my curses
Run
So wild
I hear techno
Giorgio Moroder
74 is the new 24
In my graveyard
Of pulley bones
Ghost in my
Ghost in my
Head
Shrieking in dimensions
Of dementia and demons
All my purposes
Run
So wild
I hear technologics
Advancing over
Common sense
Ghost in my
Ghost in my
Machine
My head
My misery
All my senses
Run
So wild
I hear energy
Making me tired
Shrieking invisible
Fires of miserable
Wires short circuiting
Ghost in my peripheries
On the edge of mysteries
Blowing in ghastly winds
All my fears
Run
So wild
I'll hear anything
Ghost in my ear
I hear techno
Glowing light sticks
Ghost
In my head
Whispering
I'd be better off dead
Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 7:33 AM UTC
Premature, they died at birth. Twin brothers and I too am their brother.
They were born 5 years before me. Jared Scott and Trevor Alexander. I was born with my umbilical cord wrapped around my neck, and they were so small they could fit in the palm of your hand.
They were kept in glass boxes: incubators humanizing glass bodies shattering aliens in fabricated wombs. Clear tubes ran from each nostril to machines with numerical equations that simulate abnormal infant’s breathing pattern. Their hearts were UFO’s, unidentifiable, black hole brain matter with lungs like space vacuums.
“They came too soon.” I was told
Possibly cremated, I can’t remember what my parents said.
When I was younger, I thought babies couldn’t die.
*****
Upon my birth, my parents gave me the twin’s middle names: as if some fusion of sunlight and stardust could manifest into a third being, still stuck on earth with the cord around his neck.
Cortex in cortex. Conjoined astronauts sharing intersections of skin, fluids, and bone. We are of flesh and blood, yet I did not know them. They are more than childern, but intersteller beings, cellestials and heavenly bodies.
Twin constellations, Gemini, comparable to Castor and Pollux themselves. Their fates were left up to the stars, but they were not spaceships, they were meteorites burning out in unearthly fires. Without a fighting chance, their flames were stifled.
“Mayday.mayday……….. Mothership.is………………………crashing…..… ……………Mother……board.short-circuiting……………..……… Firing 3rd……….. ……thruster…… Firing………….. 5th.thruster……… 10 minutes ..till…...…….…... ………………………………………..impact……………………………………….……
recharging ……….......flux.capacitors……………………..Oxygen..Nitrogen…..…..
……………..Burning……………..… up in atmosphere……………..….5.mintues.till ..impact…………………Suffocation…........Fuel.exhaustion…………1 minute…….
………….45…...seconds………….Depletion..............30.seconds………….............................................................................................................................................
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… Planetary. Collision……… ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………15.seconds…………………………………………………………... ………………………… Planetary. Collision……………………………………………
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….………………...………The sun is so bright …………….…………………………………………………………..…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………”
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
My heart is quicksand,
everything's sinking in.
I'm tangled in the wires I hardwired to my brain and I'm about to short circuit.
Yesterday,
I lost 4 poems in the wash,
washed away my memories,
like a wave crashing on the shore of my brain,
dragged away the footprints.
Maybe that's why I'm short circuiting,
water and electrical wires don't mix.
But here I am,
an electrical storm in my head,
untamed,
much like myself.
Contained,
in my head,
much like myself.
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 2:55 AM UTC
un-damaged brains are such fertile fields
waiting to be sowed - as those with infantile
imagination are prone to dyslexic deficiencies
and given their dreams, have ensured their imaginations
be like foetal embryos - those prone to nightmares
will never be prone to Disney's wedlock being fulfilled -
dreams are imagination's thieves - and memory short-circuiting
a fake - analysis of conscious memory
is unlike analysis of unconscious memory -
albrecht dürer seemed sensible - we've become sensible,
but also too naive - our modern sensibility
extends into a belief in demons and angels
with modern pharmaceutical companies -
nothing has changed even though man is
in flux - with modern dentistry's trickery -
how can man trust man
and not feel obliged to distrust him
for reasons that provide us with travelling communes
or jeep-sees - see what lost diacritical approaches does
to the tongue entombed in optics? chiral-optics -
you can say gypsy and say jeep-see like a handshake.
god, we're paying for our original sin
with the virtuoso of animal plagiarism -
a mere peasant is also but a mere Mozart -
i too claim my right to talk easily among scaffold-men,
talk of his girlfriend and Smurfs due to height
and Gargamel - i rather among them than in
what is talked as the pop of the Smiths' vocab
of schooling and regret blues; cats demonic, dogs
saintly.
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 10:38 PM UTC
The Ancients of the Ancients
leaving hints and clues
of pi's and phi's and square roots,
of sixes, threes and twos.
To tell us things that we don't know
how could we have forgotten?
The workings of the universe
maybe our brains went rotten.
When big rains, began to drop
short circuiting the Aether air.
Comets! Turned us into dumb
and gave some folks, frizzy hair
and fuzzy minds, that repeat
all they've heard and seen.
Shows them pre-runs of their lives
in their, day-mare dreams.
But now our blue orb is warming
The truth? In view, and clear!
The era of "good vibrations"
is oscellating, NO MORE FEAR!
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 7:40 AM UTC
The feeling like the razor sharp noise of a fan blade scraping across the inner surface of your scull. Hallowing out a cavity. Leaving a space for those wintery cold thoughts to ice over inches above the current, solidify themselves, just the same as the concrete numbness in one who feels frozen feet but remains trembling at the spine. A shivering transference of short circuiting energy and no wonder your hands shake so balancing on pins and needles. Wobbly knees. Graceful feathered voice.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC
Mark how, with alien glow--
an imposing form proclaims your
ecstasy, mark!
This monolith of first blushes.
Circuited by a spirit on leave...contours
of seeped salt lit by their sweet burrow.
Ground firmed, with every step the fall
of the world--whose rise only knows
successive steps.
Fast upon heels...keeled over--glistening
with anointment...mark how!
This overarching winter--of co conspirators
in the dead of...who bank and blow
blood till blue in the face.
Their skulls slated to sleep through, as white alms bowls--
yet they contrive...bite you upon both hands,
with the crumpled features of the face you empower.
You are the bell's curfew, a sound more
ancient than rite...where hearers come out
of their skin.
You leave peace to itself...to your quadrant
gape--lest to see what may, or may not configure.
Knowing what endeavors to stain--will belabor
to dissolve as that stain.
How like grape to wine--how like wine to oblivion...
to sodden a leavened sky.
With the care of a flower--never petulant in its exorbitant
youth, cut and set down...one for every step circuiting
this monolith.
These shocked straits of limbs, overrun with sourceless
current...flow onward, onward, onward--by command!
One miraculous, an continuous deference to that
command...seeking out what shall sate the need to do.
What is it to be content with what thou art...is it to forgo,
do what thou wilt?
Retain thy image...do not cast what thou were cast in the
image of...a voice says.
Who hears--as command is voiced, both command and
commanded hear, here.
Unmoved mover--Monolith...dispassionate salve to daily
death, circuited by spirit.
Till blindness, deafness fully informed of stone--alien with
glow...marked how!!!
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 12:50 AM UTC
Dancing phrases in the corridors
Of my brain
Breaking thru
This tissue thin membrane
My words suspended
In their cells
Short circuiting this silent hell
Sometimes a lighting fix
A string of pearls
I spit
You gather them
I know you do
These words
My fading memories of you
And we are twirling on the dance floor
Of who, I once was
Bumping into
Our love
All my words lost
Except this last refrain
I can still sing and dance
Your name
By Siobhan O’Sullivan
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 11:13 AM UTC
Buried in a hole
Pain?
Nah
Numb...
Eh
Numb...
Short circuiting
Numb...
Fluffy ponies
Numb...
Sleep, who she be?
Numb...
Crinkle, the package opens
Numb...
Blurry vision
Numb...
Hysterical
Numb...
No tears
Numb...
Wave of self deprecation
Self pity
Wow
I'm pretty pathetic
...
Oh well
A
Problem
For another
Day
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 5:58 PM UTC
the mechanic ebb and flow
of time
continues on as the hours pass by.
collecting dust—
i’m a rotting machine.
my motherboard is overloaded.
but no one comes to help me,
for in all my gray and white glory,
no one can see the decay inside of me.
parts dying away,
short-circuiting dismay,
wires cut long ago.
my static screen is a threat—
they’ll replace me.
i’ll be thrown away.
for the chemicals in my circuit board
to seep into the ground,
and corrupt the natural memory
of the world around.
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 6:54 AM UTC
"I think about these moments
everyday," she breathed
into my neck,
running one finger up
and down my arm
stripping bare an
electric wire,
short circuiting
my skin
"fifteen, twenty times a day
and my knees buckle."
your love is pure,
unaltered with self interest,
it is passionate
unconceited.
but your love is also thoughtful
and direct.
you are strong
your strength inspires me
to find my own strength,
to fill myself with my own love,
so that together we
can share the best of ourselves.
with the embers of our souls
we'll start the flames that engulf
the world.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
I am not afraid of the dark.
Nor do I fear the thoughts in my head.
But the bugs.
Aye.
The ******* critters in my brain.
My fear, I’m afraid, is they power they have mustered-
Controlling such thoughts; destroying slumbers when days-light dims.
Like solar paneled viruses that attack at the core of emotion,
Ripping through the Limbic system.
Erasing Memory; Re-circuiting Anxiety.
Taking the wiring from retinal output and re-coding each message.
Hacking the server until ants become Godzilla
And “hello’s” read as “goodbye”.
Twitching fingers and feet that scratch at the skin.
It’s these ******* leeches in my skull that **** my nerves dry
Til I’m hot- **** no, cold.
And the extermination comes:
Sunrise.Coffee.Interaction.
It’s like they live to die by the hour of midnight,
Only to do their time through rummage and destruction.
Hatching eggs in my nails, Chewed away by discomfort.
Growing to new forms by lights out.
Rehearse.
React.
Repeat.
It’s these bugs that I fear;
Fearing the darkness.
Fearing the thoughts inside.
It’s these bugs that I even doubt this ****** piece of work.
Yet these bugs are what created what you now have read,
The over exaggeration now etched on paper.
And it is the small bit of me still left alive at night behind them,
Refusing to see this truth when the extermination has come.
It’s no plead for help; No cry for sympathy.
I am me as you are me-
So please take me as I come.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
I regret
that I cannot write this
poem
because
I'm bleeding out at the shoulder
and I'm not left-handed-- I can't
write this poem
because I'm short-
circuiting and
stunned. I
can't write
this
poem because
there are no words
for this thing
I never thought I'd
fall victim to--
the pen in my hand
feels like a gun and
I'm going to shoot this page to ****
this ******** therapy,
dear Poetry, I QUIT--
because
there's not enough
blood
left to fill my
pen
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 10:51 AM UTC
Why you always speaking voodoo on my name
Trying to turn me violent
By boiling the blood in the canals of my veins
And short circuiting the wires energizing the flows in my brain
It like you ******
When I crash into the base of my pains
Hoping that I would turn into sand
So you can bury your feet in the grains
Your logic has always been misconstrued
But now its just simply insane
Like... really ******* crazy
Exertion you abuse daily
Your life force steady draining
In attempt to jeopardize my safety
Im just trying to push these rhymes
Before you have me pushing these daises
But no
But Hell noo
But **** noooooo
You too lazy
And revenge like ***** on a plater
Is way too tasty
Its elementary to know that your wrong
But yet sing a song that does nothing but blame me
For the lost of your flame
For the tragedy associated with the syllables of your name
For the distortion of the water mirroring the curves of your frame
All things I have not nothing to do with
But I wish I could claim
Yet your determine to finalize this quest
So you stay unrest
Staying awake to see the sun dying in the horizon
To be silenced by the resurrect of the moons crest
A machine would be impressed
Witnessing you out perform its best
They way you devote your essences trying to obviate mine
A busy schedule
But thats fine
Because you always find time to make time
Why?
You could see so much more
Feel so much more
Do so much more
Be so much more
But you let hate consume your once illuminating core
So this is a warning to a soul I once adored
Free yourself from this self inflicted war
And don't think of me
Not even in the slightest anymore
Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 10:54 PM UTC
In the whirlpools, people puff
and scream for help
The spectators whisper
the last gossip
until the poets hand
shoves them away, looking
for the right tone
He's just messing about
because the Way is the Truth
of all votes against
Everyone gags for meaning
in a livable rhythm
Groaning, I hold on
They are talking about me
I hear it in the breaks
This is how it will go on
with an occasional blow
hoping it is a hit
It is fiddling and tinkering
keep breathing calmly
and not short-circuiting
Jun 20, 2022
Jun 20, 2022 at 3:35 AM UTC