"decryption" poems
I am ready
to ring your rib
around my wrist
in triumph—
the faintest of relics
enliven me. My lips
still layered
as in the night you lost them.
I hope to hammer
your heart
& stuff its soil
in the sutures
of your skull;
I want to call that
the shadow to
kintsugi;
I want our memories never
to seep; to set
them up for decryption.
Unloving is a study—
consider an archaeologist’s
tentative hands
demystifying an artifact
once treasured for its secret
& leaving no spots
behind.
Apr 25, 2021
Apr 25, 2021 at 11:24 PM UTC
pap
pap
pap
I can't breath
my stomach is bubbling
like hot cheese
on an fresh oven pizza
my legs feel skinny
I want to lean into a wall
the floor looks spinny
the wainscoting is squint
my vision is blurry
because...tears?
Why is there worry
in my middle?
I feel fine,
my mind is sound
this fear isn't mine
what’s it doing here?
What is this panic?
Fight or flight I understand,
but this is plain manic.
I need to go
at top speed
or maybe hide?
Either way, be freed
from this distress.
pap
pap
pap
Push someone over,
human shield that ****
reduce my exposure
to hyperventilation.
Shallow in,
shallow out,
I feel akin
to sprinting Mufasa
Pure distress
acute discomfort,
a proper mental problem. Nonetheless,
it’s strange to foresee the diagnosis.
It’s as if I’m watching
from someone else’s skin
as alligator clamps are botching
holding my physiology in.
A sunburn on my innards,
a paperweight within
you’d think I’d feel pride
for finally having something wrong.
Hypochondria being accurate
the years of inventing doom,
suddenly isn't aberrant
those fabrications had substance.
Or maybe all these thinks
are symptoms in themselves
after sifting through piles of shrinks,
maybe I can finally get some help.
pap
pap
pap
Look at my pretty framed prescription,
doctor certified, messy handwriting,
this will take some decryption...
don’t worry, take your time,
this pathoreaction won't go away.
I’m told desolation
is a temperament set to stay
until after eighteen simple payments.
I’m inclined to reject treatment
of drugs that fiddle with the mind
I’d rather stay present,
continue inconsistency.
I would like to try narration,
see how many kilometers I can recall.
I can deal with frustration,
so let’s talk about my childhood.
Public transit without destination
sends me on a revere,
an absence of crippling desperation.
I've found peace before
it was between yellow poles,
in the outside pocket
of a backpack on parole.
It smiled at me quietly.
pap
pap
pap
Apparently, it’s the small things
that help you deal with anxiety.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 6:10 AM UTC
To be knelt in a shower
Watching crimson mix with water
Some good ol’ fashioned
Pain drain
Bloodletting
How delicious
What is it about a cleansing ritual
That brings
Soot to surface
It’s scar tissue
Meets fresh wounds
Amidst the carnage
A kernel of truth
Cartography
How scrumptious
What is it about toweling off
That removes
Less than we thought
It’s whispered words
Meets silent screams
All this chaos
What does it mean
Decryption
How cathartic
What is it about slipping into jeans
That tucks away the secrets
Folds up the mental maps
Slurps the blood from the floor
And masks us up
For the world to adore
///
“How was your weekend?”
(wait, what’s my line?)
Plasma
A flushed cheek
“Oh…it was fine”
smiles
Merely existing
How divine
///
Aug 25, 2022
Aug 25, 2022 at 11:10 AM UTC
Do my words satisfy anyone?
Not you,not me.
Writing for satisfaction is not an option.
I write for expression.
For description.
For discovery,
For decryption.
For fantasy,
For religion,
For analogy,
For inscription.
For acknowledgement,
And for knowledge.
For rendition,
For depiction.
For sleep,
And resurrection.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 3:37 AM UTC
My heart is but a wary fortress
Warding off any ounce of deception
Yet allowing complete devotion,
Succumbing to a lost revolution
Yet defending against any form of desertion,
Searching for sincere redemption
Yet invoking shrouded decryption,
Craving such an elegant disruption
Yet containing any sudden eruption,
Maneuvering through endless manipulation
Scanning for one perfect creation
That will bring about final completion,
My heart is but a perception
To an ultimately intimate emotion.
Feb 28, 2011
Feb 28, 2011 at 9:27 PM UTC
*I was here
When you wrote a fully encrypted poem
Words wrapped in heavy firewalls
Decryption code hidden in time
Looping through ages of wisdom
Greek written in plain English
that's what ordinary us see
Codes that can't be deciphered
alluded as metaphors.
and nooo
don't get me started on syllables
Or they call them enigma these days
Those woven words
Those written graphical contents leave us in awe
Only the 5th generation circuits gets it
the softwares involved are not for the average minds
Only a high speed drive would comprehend the contents
No petty malware would Penetrate through those walls
Only a malware with enviable skills
Ones that would suffocate and annihilate
Re program the chess board to its advantage
Inciting the readers that they understand the depth of that poem*
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 1:17 AM UTC
meet me in the gaze
bear a lawless mind armed with
infinite queries
for the key is to not peek
through the locks of broken hearts
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 8:35 AM UTC
Q has infiltrated the infiltrators.
Uniting US in conspiracy.
WWG1WGA
I know, because Q told me I needed to know.
You are Q.
Because Q is no one
and no one is everywhere.
Q is the code AND the decryption algorithm.
You believe Q ? So what.
The DEMONS believe Q...
and they tremble.
Blood and fire await those
who spurn Q's boundless mercy.
Q has so subtly crept into your consciousness that YOU, foolish one, think Q is a groundless conspiracy theory,
thus validating and acknowledging Q's presence
in your inner sanctum.
Q knows who you are and where you live before you lived there.
Q shall do exceedingly and abundantly beyond all that Q can conceive.
Prepare to take up arms for Q (apocalyptically).
Clean your weapons and load extra magazines (metaphorically).
Sharpen your combat knives and prepare to strike (symbolically).
Hide the explosive charges and set the timers (allegorically).
Slay all who oppose Q
and fill the midnight graves
with their twitching corpses (emblematically).
Cleanse the nation of all corruption (spiritually).
We await Q's dictates
unto death and beyond.
(Q taught Q's mother-in-law EVERYTHING she knows.)
Sep 13, 2020
Sep 13, 2020 at 5:50 AM UTC