Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
wren cole Apr 2017
the world is just starting to seem real
clay in a firmer state
studier but harder to mold
and i am still trying to shape it in my hands
without getting it under my nails
... something,

something under my nails
clambering for something to hold onto
anxiety racing, scratching, life catching up to me
why am i bleeding
why am i bleeding
this is supposed to be freeing
i guess i just
pick one of these lines
deeply clawed into my skin
paths like addict,
wash up,
footstool;
lives carefully planned for me since birth

i played trumpet in junior high
so that must mean i'll be a paralegal like my mama
regretting my love choices
regretting my life choices
wasting away at a job i hate
doing work i don't get credit for
destined to fade away lonely

but then again i've got my dad's bad habits
and twice his screaming spirit
so maybe i'll spend half my life in a bottle
and the other half trying to chase the dreams that i ****** away in my twenties

maybe i'll run all over creation
trying to be something bigger
someone stronger

yeah
that sounds about right
Minuscule Ego Jul 2015
As the sun blaze afloat,
She had accepted its heat, though not seeing the light,
While others had burned bright with the light,
She had perceived only the dark,
Even with her everyday quest,
Her memoir of struggling conquest,
She had conceived only the darkness
Though with her increased of enrichment
She had felt bewildered in all this blanket of nights,
Oh, she'd pray for a rest,
A port written of bless,
But as Daniel, they've withhold,
Her likes, they cry under the greed,
Option less, but the wait or the creed,
The choice to live according to decreed,
Or bend to their marks of greed,
But for her tis a no,
They ought to know,
Fate gonna reach their doors,
The happiness of the dew,
Had been known only to the few,
Enough! is enough
But remembered clockwise,
It said let there be light,
And there was a light for all,
Hers is just a nightfall,
Soon! The sun gonna greet her good morning,
And the moon will bid you good night,
So keep sermonizing the lies,
Be the greed with the dice,
Or the person you so portrayed,
She pray mercy upon your soul,
To gain a world and loose a soul,
Oh, she'd laughed you poor,
For not all road leads to happy endings,
Some lead to a dead end.
Inspired by a Liberian Hip hop Star
nivek Aug 2016
comes a time you have lived a yes life
and with a simple no
leave it all behind
or was it the other way around
Kiagen McGinnis Sep 2011
there is still jalapeno under my nails,
                                                            i know because i bite them.


i feel microcosmic
i feel macrocosmic
i feel that the night i knew you were > all the deadend wannabe artists with groomed hair and a knack for saying the wrong things at the right times

the moon was full as a curvy woman's hips
and i sleeplessly felt its caress through the sky the roof my heart
it carried me pieces of you
and they fit

people ask me if i'm madly in love with a smirk
people ask me what happens when it goes wrong
first loves die hard, they say
i don't know what happened to make everyone assume that
love is destined to be a ship lost at sea

my mom raised me to be tenacious
and darling,
                              you know it's true
NeeshaNeesha Dec 2017
Complicated is an understatement
Nonexistent is simply too harsh

If it never existed how can you crave it
If it never walked up to and acknowledged you presence
                                                                                       how can you greet it
A complicated nonexistent envy of love
vhcgjhf Jul 2015
plot out distances between freckles
and count the amount of hairs;
in a beauteous analysis
a cold witnessing
of)a featured lifeless gaze
projected onto windows
refracted in time with the pounding
from lost soulless ghouls
in a dank puddled basement
as we stare through keyholes

the length of life waits to rescind
to wash up on the shoreline
anew, once refreshed
with Angina on

wading in cyclic waves
in deposits of reveries
stale orangeade sonatas
and dull area tirades


the purpose
economized

every axiom
americanized

and as your atoms become depersonalized
tension is materialized, in ornate ivory
shattered brass instruments rusted by
novels written to god
in a
fractured light
and range

cramped in a curtailed distance
a brickwall deadend universe
gnashing with frustration
****** yawns of futility

closed viaducts
and vacant lots
deafened eyes, grey
glimmering in retort
to their own expression


blind sight was squandered by the snapback, of all the
strings of the orchestra as they were simultaneously snipped
by sharp prying eyes, listening to the mixing of paint
to smell the music, its arms limp, vivid
wishing to pull you back (in hindsight)
with dreaded, deadened incantations
a dithyrambic liturgy to the drunken thoughtless night
of slurred litanies and unappeasable, irascible deities
lonely and immaculate, all-powerless and deft
in irksome quarrels and arguments
glossed over by the fine print of another
exalting the vainglorious self-inscribed paragons
and revelling every inadmissible mistake

gazing past to a solo star
dumbstruck and dead
from an evaluation
and dehydration

dying to know
forget it.
They say: we, humans, were born for reasons
then blinded for a reason was I?
or, muted for a reason was I?
intricately, not to see the beauty of the world's wonder
not to sing the melody of sweet rhythmic dulcet,
yet precious, perfect unique design
they call I am, God's special one.
I can't see I am, still
I can't say I am thus, still
I can't completely sense I am.
I move, yes, with freedom, a figment, though
yet imprisoned in an eggshell, my deadend
grave I had never.
Rob Sandman Oct 2017
This is a long one Ladies and Gents, so strap in!

IF you asked what the biggest evils are in this world,
any rational man,woman boy or girl,
would answer its things that bring us too much harm,
talkin bout Alcohol,Tobacco and - Firearms
forget about illegal drugs and mafia clans,
its time to focus in on the Government plans,
to cause mass confusion in the minds of the sheep,
keep us all in our pens,disoriented and weak,
only a danger to ourselves in this struggle of life,
its the subtlest cut from the surgeons knife,
that emasculates us wholesale,money for blood,
three opponents to the death in the war for good,
run by corporations with no frontiers,
profiteering on your misery,they're milking our tears,
legal taxable killers that shorten your life,
and not just YOUR life man,your children and wife,
and leave you with no fight in you to cause some strife,
for our overlords and rulers,in the neverending fight,
to bring truth to the truthless and sight to the blind,
its a high stakes gamble and the stake is your mind,
but the tables rigged,and the dealers a shark,
whos only happy when you're ignorant and kept in the dark
and fed **** like fungi,think you're fun guy?
cos when your dumb fat and happy then its easy to die,
24without reaching any truth,time to read between the lines-
and learn the truth about these ****** end times.

Alcohol Tobacco and Firearms

1.8 million people a year,
go straight from here to the valley of tears,
with the help of a bottle,its our friend alcohol!,
its a double hit,taking both your money and soul,
its like Futurama having suicide booths,
just have a few beers man,your troubles to soothe...
while it gnaws at your insides a rat in a cage,
like 1984 and the worlds a stage,
well its more like a circus,and guess who's the clown?
its a never ending pratfall like "falling down",
how many mornings can you wake up feeling like ****?
before we ALL decide that its time to quit,
and how come science hasnt found a way?
to render it less harmful in these amazing days?
simple,cause its perfect. - *Its doing its job

keeping billions of people in deadend jobs,
leaving social meetings with a dark undercurrent,
just look at any News Source,stories stay current,
about the constant madness and daily strife,
another drunken encounter that ends in lost lives,
and more zombies walking on our city streets,
looking for a confrontation,just someone to beat,
in 20% of interventions by Cops
the trouble would stop,if the bottle was dropped
so take the beer goggles off and start taking names,
of the companies we need to name and shame


cough,cough cough,its the daily song,
its the people nailing down their coffin too long

cigarettes cause cancer...and there I should stop
(sample penny dropping)
to let the penny drop...
in the first few seconds that this verse just took...
another poor dumb smoker just ran out of luck,
its an incredible figure for our global deaths,
that are pure homicides,people stealing your breath,
its like paying a murderer to stab you in the chest
when it comes to mindfucks man smoking's the best,
while tobacco company lobbyists still write checques,
their customers are choking in a haze of death,
govt. warning's man the ***** too late,
while you're staring at the package your eventual fate,
is slapping your eyeballs with a message of doom,
but you're still a ****** Addict and the profits just zoom,
the glory days of the deathgame until 94,
tobacco company tales for many years before,
using bogus science for a tissue of lies,
never giving two cents for the people who died,
testified to the senate man the God ****** Nerve!
when they die I think their souls will take a downward curve,
to an everlasting hell,their own sweet special doom,
to be greeted by a sign, welcome to the smoking room.
so drop the ash and stop dropping cash,
and start saving your life for a better re-hash

I've saved the best for last,you might be surprised,
when you hear me breaking down another tissue of lies,
you see guns don't **** people people do
disagree if you like,its still a universal truth,
you see to me a gun is only a tool,
it all depends on whether it is in the hands of a fool,
and guns save lives too another headfuck,
they also take them too in the hands of the rough,
I'm not thinking bout the crack dealer packing a glock,
I'm thinking of the group that sold him the lot
running drugs AND guns its the CIA!
all protected by the might of the USA!
dont believe me? just google it,its easy to find,
although the facts may not sit well in your mind,
its funny,maybe they should have used ray-guns?
then their actor president would have given MORE funds,
to the contra rary of the public story,
while the truth at the bottom is much more gory,
but its back to the future now the latest plans,
acted out in the future in a global land,
and its only the start of the endgame plan,
to take away the tools from the everyday man,
**so he cant cause trouble its machiavellian,
cos their plans for the future are so Orwellian
I told you it was a long read!
again as with most of my stuff it just fell out of me,
this will be put to music soon and I will link it here
andy fardell Apr 2011
could see the shadow from the corner of my eye
see them standing waiting by
could feel their presence wanting me
see there coldness needing me

could feel their looks just staring out
see their blood all red and loud
could feel their noise all over me
see their touch out grabbing me

from the corner of my eye i waited standing by
a shudder from way down low
a feeling time to go
a breath not taken yet from the smell of deadend flesh

as i blinked i gave a cry
a feeling deep inside
a time to look away
from the corner of my eye
Ego was the monster that drove you from my arms or was it just another's charm.
It wasnt poetic simply one lights fade to yet another act in a much to dim lit sidewalk's scene.
If you go I wont care so many bitter words stand are refuge of pain togather we shared
it if only for a moment.

Maybe it was a nightmare made possible from a dream.
Maybe it was nothing more than a glimpse at what was never to be.
I closed that door now it seems a shame to view these scars yet once again.

Please dont ever let me leave you.
I recall  you asked one of to many fargone nights embrace
I lie to say i could never recall.

Why did it seem like promises were empty as broken hearts games of the grown remain
evergreens of childs play.
Alone I allow you to invade my thoughts one last time.

Sunset from the shore always seemed empty just like are time togather.
Why must you haunt me still.
Watercolors fade still I recall that embrace.

Farewell my friend.

Pain is a burden to you no more.


Sometimes a turned shoulder  is all thats left of a deadend street.
Joshua Poetry Feb 2015
There are days when the rage I prayed to dissipate somehow finds its way from the deep secluded corners of my brain and throws itself violently onto the blank pages of my notebook.

It's always on those days when I hear the Oceanside call my name but I refrain from seeing her because I am far too occupied with chipping myself away at this deadend job that doesn't provide the way that I need it to pay.

It's always on the days when I can't reach her shore that I ***** myself to this imitation of peace. To all the things I want but know it will never satisfy the need to feel that cool ocean breeze, the smell of seaweed and that saltwater against my feet.

There is no place in the valley for a boy who fell in love with the ocean and left his heart at sea.

Like can't you see that the only time I feel whole is when all the broken pieces that make up me is standing on that cliffside. Apart from filling out my blank pages and pouring my heart out onto these stages, that cliffside will always be home.

There is not a day that I'm away that I don't sit and think about the power of the waves. Do you ever think about the power of the waves? How they come in, crash and carry all of my burdens, pain and frustration away. God I just want to get away.

I will always sit up on that cliffside in a mystery as I gaze out upon your vast deep blue see and wonder how in the midst of my chaos, that you are somehow my peace.
Felix Sladal Aug 2017
Sew your ideals behind your ear and stitch your wishes above your heart
Beware you'll never get what you want
The flames will blow out before the candles even lit
Hold on my friend your speeding towards a deadend
Light always casts shadows but shadows never see the light
Choking on pride because it's to hard to swallow gets you nowhere fast
Open your lungs
Cool your flustered cheeks
If you rant till your lips are numb the things worth hearing flutter out mute
Swallow your swollen pride
For it has not a use but to bruise the inflated ego

Walking handstands on raw palms while longing for a spotlight that has been burned out for years
June
Billy White Mar 2016
plot out distances between freckles
and count the amount of hairs;
in a beauteous analysis
a cold witnessing
of)a featured lifeless gaze
projected onto windows
refracted in time with the pounding
from lost soulless ghouls
in a dank puddled basement
as we stare through keyholes

the length of life waits to rescind
to wash up on the shoreline
anew, once refreshed
with Angina on

wading in cyclic waves
in deposits of reveries
stale orangeade sonatas
and dull area tirades


the purpose
economized

every axiom
americanized

and as your atoms become depersonalized
tension is materialized, in ornate ivory
shattered brass instruments rusted by
novels written to god
in a
fractured light
and range

cramped in a curtailed distance
a brickwall deadend universe
gnashing with frustration
****** yawns of futility

closed viaducts
and vacant lots
deafened eyes, grey
glimmering in retort
to their own expression


blind sight was squandered by the snapback, of all the
strings of the orchestra as they were simultaneously snipped
by sharp prying eyes, listening to the mixing of paint
to smell the music, its arms limp, vivid
wishing to pull you back (in hindsight)
with dreaded, deadened incantations
a dithyrambic liturgy to the drunken thoughtless night
of slurred litanies and unappeasable, irascible deities
lonely and immaculate, all-powerless and deft
in irksome quarrels and arguments
glossed over by the fine print of another
exalting the vainglorious self-inscribed paragons
and revelling every inadmissible mistake

gazing past to a solo star
dumbstruck and dead
from an evaluation
and dehydration

dying to know
forget it.
BALAJI MANOHARAN Sep 2019
Love - a game of trial and errors.
Breakups - became a fashion of convenience.
'In a relationship' - now is a funny trend.
Marriage an unexpected deadend.
Victim? Well, that's You!
This is a short verse about love, relationships and how people value it in this so-called modern era!
Shawn Adams Jul 2017
Ritual cycle
Eat,  sleep and repeat
Fight,  sweat, beg and bleed
Cordless and bored
Can't afford a more important course
Tour the tunnels
Force the worm to sacrifice itself
Sleep away the overwhelming since that this is all there is
Ego is greedy and never satisfied
The destroyer, must avoid her
Try not to stare into her eyes
Fall in slow motion into a comfortably numb existence
The silence of revelation
The deadend of procrastination
The hollow beat of hearts encased captivity
Henri Words Nov 2016
I don't think I can finish this
until life finishes it for me
I stay late every night towards
a deadend, weakened enough
to collide with another day

Feel like catching something but
who cares about your poems?
I think of the same as I lie down
Forget it then, but I know they will stay up
until I come back in another day

Nov 23, 2016
Yenson Aug 2019
See how the others live
garnish your morning gruel with gossips
makes your cold porridge taste just a bit better
search out the ***-bits and the juicy blue parables
all from the House of Windsors can never be fake-news
when Princes bed seventeen aged maiden cold teas taste hot
gloom and doom means pep-ups, a smile and a spring to their steps
in rarefied air the stench of the ghettos and the belches from drains
should whiff in polluting and disturbing the perfumery of gentility
and why not...do they hear the cries of the motherless babies
or listen to the frustrations of the thieves having a no dice day
as Joan sells her body to pay the loan-arranger yesterday
and Jason is so bothered looking for a fix down the alley
do they know Roger took his own life cos he had no job
yes to sit and hear of the pain and sufferings high above
makes cold toasts and bacon of-cuts that much sweeter
and as the kettle whistles away they hope the vapour
clears the grimes of trodden lives and deadend roads
and rain hot molten ashes on the Semites and Giles
and madam in the big house up in the green Hills
and the Garters and Coronets all burn in Hell
with their socks on......
Robin Carretti Apr 2018
The New Future roar +
Gimme Gimme
Better salaries 2018
Hard years or light years
Galaxies
Hey 19,20?,21$,
22 my birth number
September Saphire blue
What's true the roar-ins
The movies the cold cuts
Getting hot
Boar head bites
The crybaby nights


Roaring Twenties* Flights"
It's time  for the modern
"I Dare" to be on the edge
Just Dodge

Men at war draft ins
Pennies for their thoughts
Dr. Who am I drugs new
laugh-ins
She's the boredom
Monday- millenium
"Gatsby Gorilla"
Tuesday Tarrantula  deadend
It been a long weekend_

Money is the killer
Ransom not a fandom
The Samson and Delilah
"Gilmore Ladies" Halleluah
Stocked up on mercedes
Flapper dancers flipped
a coin
They marched in computer
lion


Whats in your pocket
Now Hewlett Packard
Hackers and fast and furious
snackers

(The Thirties) centuries gowns
Kitchen the wife cooks
Turkey tough food 4 the soul
Davie Bowie ground control
Bowing down "Beek Jerky"
The golf player the hole
in goofers those penny loafers
Coffee and cars comedians
"Seinfeld" is money gold

Jiffy peanut butter
Sandwiches spread with love
I love you "Mother" Miss Kleinfeld
I am getting married
Those emmy awards looking worried
What's edible  Mr Hannibal
with attachmnents Mrs cannibals
The love can (B) incredible


Cornish Hens
Another day like Zen
Those Stepford wives perfect ten
Eyes of Fifty shades of poodle skirts
New Jersey housewives movie cut
Greek goddess of Ulysses lit

Greek yogurt creamy lips possess
New future what to address
Wordy so quirky time gets
spooky
Look alive get perky
The future for me is right now
Jersey strong "New Jersey"
All Excell moon solar system
The future I got the rhythm
Roaring Twenties theold in with the new the future what else is new?
Antonina Dutchak Sep 2016
Can't swim on nor drown,
Loving life, I'll emerge
At the deadend I frown,
A look of pain and rage.

Because of the smoke
My lungs are black.
Things, which you spoke
Made my soul wreck.

Every night you
In my dreams sing.
I'll forget the bloom
Of leaving spring.

A look of the eyes
On life, not getting better
But Sooner or later
Sun breaks the ice
Sooner or later
The new spring comes.
Eric the Red Feb 2018
There’ll be a moment
Maybe mid 30s
Maybe mid 40s
Maybe your whole life
Where you stop
Gaining things
Money
Knowledge
Friendships
Loves
And you start
Losing them
Money in your accounts
Knowledge lost on deadend jobs
Friendships that you outgrew
&
Loves

The burial of parents
The ‘We’ll always know each other
Become just another thing
You lose
The
Hello
&
Goodbye
RM Jul 2020
I don't know if I should ask you or not?
Don't know whether I'm being selfish or not?
Honestly, the truth is, you've become my necessity
You are necessary to get back my sanity
So, tell me if I'm wrong when I keep sending you those songs, when it's half past one
Maybe you know everything and you pretend
And just wait for the night to end
And I know you are not to blame
It's just that we are stuck in a deadend
Cause you are too afraid to depend
And it Seems to me loneliness is going to be here longer than expected
And I have to keep shining my teeth through meaningless..
Eric the Red May 2020
Gentrification has ruined art...
Food Collectives replaced the trumpeter
In the window
3 bedroom 2 bath condos
Slaughtered the *****
On the rainy street
...
There isn’t any **** side of town
Anymore
No starving artist
No one selling repentance soup
3 for a $1
Newspapers for 25 cents
To look for deadend jobs
....
Art dwindles on empty canvas
Poets are a dime a dozen tho
‘Check out my page’
‘Like my stuff’
Poems that go nowhere
******* we’re suffering
Enough
.....
Just an oncoming storm
That never seems to get here
WISEPENNY Aug 2020
I WAITING BUT THY DIDNT CALL
HIDE ME THOTH ME
LEGEND OF ALL

PARCELL PACKAGE TERRORIST
CAPTIVE INVENTION WITH OLIVIA TWIST

PARKING FOR LOT
CAUTION DEADEND GREASY HAUT

HEAD FELT
PROGRAMMING TERRITORY ON AN EMPTY SHELF

WHERE A GODESSS MANTLE THERE LIE STILL
WATCHFUL PAINTING IN DRNKING FILL

WONDEROUS RIVER OF NILE AND BABY STYX

FORGE EMOTION STIR THE BOAT
USE MY TONSILS TO CURE THY GHOAT
I lack everything
I have no essence to cherish
I am dense to myself
Fear prowels my thoughts

The Divinity in me
Waits for no one
I am unblessed
Repulsed by nature
Coward
Today

I will return to my Recovery
Lessons learned

The deadend is not
signed
It is a curve that
ends on the
Last Exit to Chicago.

Caroline Shank
May 1. 2024
jordan Jan 2020
stationary flow
brings
stagnant growth
causing
frozen metamorphosis

crystalline liquid
conveys
regressive expansion
birthing
rigor mortised evolution

impotent energy
deposits
deadend prosperity
delivering
impeded progression
could there be a future for us
that the psychic didn't give up
we could turn back and ask again

stare into the ball and hope
there's sunshine at the end of this road
and its not just another deadend
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch
Bang in the first measure
Came the congenital seizure
Skewing the first invention from scratch.
The campfire skied its sparks
Into the ghost-ridden void,
The skittish tchotchkes
Of paradox and entropy
Quirks and tics as dumb as bricks
Until a headstrong mongoloid
Started groping for rhythm
In the quavering spasms.

Oh, but it was a jawdropper
A bang-up tour-de-force
A horrorshow time-warper
Of Luke and Kirk and spice,
The good apple ran the table
Till the old goat hacked the matrix
And the young hawks did their mind-tricks
Of a tessellated cat’s cradle...
And paparazzi made the odyssey
From planets Claire to Z
To dish how cosmic *******
Trysted protomolecule
As the major ghosted ground control...
In all, a very large array
Of bingeworthy groundhog days.
Lukewarm confabulation
Of the smoking embers
From the essential tremor
Ceaseless oscillation
Between good cop and bad copper.

And the girl scouts chorus
With cheeks full of S’mores
“For all of your fables
Of hobbits and hubbles
And sabering at windmills
You will never untie the volition
Riddled into the convulsion,
Nor how the campfire kindles
Nor be one of us.
You will always ***** the pooch
Halfway to the paw-paw patch.”

Nurse Dipso-Etheromaniac
And Dr. Thorazine-Brainiac
Shoved their two-part invention
Cold turkey into the clockworks,
Cleft lip
Fetal eyes
Flipper-fingered
Riddled with the shakes
Cold-shouldered him to another dimension
Where muggles punk ETs,
And their whiskey wizards
Serve up mock elixirs
Not some hair of the dog to undistemper
The secondhand DTs,
His doggo superpower.

Bill Grogan’s goat
(Bam bam bam bam!)
Was feeling frisky
(Bam bam bam BAM!)
Chased three red skirts
Across the galaxy...
“I knew you were one of the ***** boys
But why do your hands shake like that?
They flipper and gibbet all over the keys”
The sour-smelling teacher spat.

And the mean girls echoed
With tongues of acid
“See how they lurch and squirm!
You will never get to the paw-paw patch
You will never find dear little Susie
She will never teach you to hulu
And you will never two-step
With dear old Johnny
With fists of wiggle worms.”

He touched off the fireworks
Torching all your pomp and cirque
In some skullduggery
Of **** and villainy.
I, Dropout
Outcast
Clonetrooper
Mutineer
Hitched a ride north of the watchtower
Where imperial walkers with hooves of ice
Stomped the land flat, and late-blooming
Summer never shakes the phantom menace
Of the winter that is always coming.

Somewhere in the interstellar distances
Of Kantian prairie perturbed by auroras
Like those night-blooming skyflowers
I glimmered back into existence.
I drank with wildings dropped with the dead
And vaped the contrails of the mad rocketeers
(Kid Rambo, Def Louie, Jedi Freddy and Manny
Steampunk Sal and Wig Out Johnny)
But never found sweeter ******
Than the next bridge to burn.
I, callow flamethrower
Of Shiva, the destroyer.

Marshall Gunpowder Jehoshaphat Miller
The bad apple of the force
Hatchet-faced and porkpied
Dead by ****** suicide
Born again old-schooler,
Packing halitosis
From ossified canon
Skywalked me down.
Gospeled me like Luke
And knee-capped me with a curse
Shame; the oldest mind-trick in the book.
I served out my prodigality
In Ludovico therapy
Which for a half-life, somewhat took.

Headlong into retrograde
I crashed the zero-sum arcade
Fed a quarter into the supercollider
And with some crazy tic of the wrist
Spooked the ball’s trajectory
So it champagne supernovaed
And spat out the shabby ghost
Of a birthright lottery.
Thirteen golden statues.
But as the digits flipped
And the mission crept
As it does to one and all
Faster than a cannonball
I flashed back to renegade.

And the made girls chorused,
With cheeks full of Botox,
From their partial-view suites
And partner-track perks
Of bottomless cups
Of shut the **** up,
“You nearly made the grade, you!
But then you had to mouth off job-hop Hulk
Out, which finally betrayed you.
Now Security Guard Miller
Will escort you off the premises
For a reckoning with your nemesis
Regret, the silent killer.”

True, for a season I was a bluepilled moon
Marooned with space junk
And cypherpunk
Doomscrollers
Of deadend might-have beens,
Like the lunar sonata’s
Primal whisper of futility,
Until it tripolars
Into ultraviolent agitato
And hits escape velocity

Now loosed from orbit of the Goldilocks planet
I tumble through space in dumbstruck rapture
Of hurricaned stars and thundercloud nebula
I tremble in the thousand-parsec stare
Of the headless horde of dark riders
That stampede the stony hobbits,
Through the looking-glass of lightyears past
I see monstrous galaxies in ungainly copulation
Blushing Hiroshimas of atrocious release
And multi-sunned planets where misbegotten
Beings shudder into self-consciousness,

While I drift toward the event horizon
To be gobbled into the enigma
With a little gasp of gamma
Hammerstricken wires frisson.
Where the eleventh measure of the first invention
Counterclockwise corkscrews
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch,
After a very long array of groundhog days
My skeleton crew bunch into alignment
Like that hunch of spooky entanglement
Or just possibly like that eternal dissonance
Quelled by a quanta of true arrogance,

In a clockwork grotto
Grows a chrysalis F-sharp
Where fingers at last Goldilock
Into queasy equilibrium,
To my dumb surprise
The dark sac butterflies
And there is Susie
A little tipsy
On hard compatibilism,
With hips of pulsars
And hands of auroras
She hulus like the time warp
Not spasm without rhythm
But otherworldly vibrato.
On the infinitely big and infinitesimally small, and deeply personal.

— The End —