"disconnections" poems
If only sleeping didn’t bring out the demons in me
Dark and darker entities popping stopping staring at me for what seems like eternity maybe higher than that maybe in my mind no reality of me living where I am supposed to be.
I see eyes that’s always the beginning they take me inside I overthink the circumstance where I’m the pupil but I’m always sacrificing myself to be the victim.
Flashbacks possibilities deja vus of me disconnections disconnects its blocks of memories.
Stagnant thinking it’s the brinking of uncertainties and the insomniac tendencies left beneath me by my depressive states I question its beginnings.
Where the pain lies in my side every time I wanna die and think back to why it confuses me.
Waking up buried in ***** dust though sometimes sparkly is always as terrifying as the last time.
Even when you get out you’re never truly free in such a dark city.
Let’s try howling like our pets tried when our neighbors died when I wake up I hear her scream.
No clocks ticking it’s just the doorbell ringing and the death chimes on and on.
We’re tearing through the jungle book of matrix look a green computer screen but it’s all black and brown they throw some color red in it.
But it just blurs and blurs and you’re not sure, you just let yourself fade into the chaotic white buzz instead of letting yourself looking at the bigger picture.
It’s on a ladder it’s so confusing every rail means something monkey bars leading seemingly nowhere that’s where the blur starts that’s where my heart dies that’s where I go blind.
Entities blurring creation forget your dreams why have we forgotten where we’ve come from
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 4:41 PM UTC
phasical circumlocutions of basic, embodied life..
i am an infant still i teethe and moan in lonely darknesses
solar revolutions
earthling orbits and spheroid whirls
an axis of worlds
adulterated limbs
my adulthood limns an architecture's disconnections
thin, the layers undulate
of elbow's sway and kneecap right
i am an adult still i teethe and moan alone in darkness, light
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 4:51 PM UTC
The problem wasn't the money
or the fame,
not the taunt, ripe bruises
shining from her heart
or the painful creak of her
hip bones when she moved.
No, the problem wasn't
the seeping words or
the tightness in her chest
every time she passed a church.
It wasn't the way the holiday lights
made her head dizzy or
the floating sensations
in grocery store lines
and it was definitely not
how her associates nonchalantly
patted her back in passing,
blatant excuses to walk on.
It wasn't the smell of soap
or the staring for hours
at the ceiling.
It wasn't the long, smooth metal
of the numbing pipe or
the sweet taste of Sangria wine.
It wasn't the many times
she'd been used or
the indignation that set in
when the walls were quiet.
It wasn't even the tapping pipes
that kept her awake at night
with their torturous monotony.
The problem was not the comparisons
or the dismissive tendencies,
the disconnections,
the draining of her energy
or even the isolation.
It was not the quiet meditation
or the constant spirit guide speak,
not the unpaid bills on the mahogany desk
or the whirring sounds of
a radiator about to explode
in her only transportation.
It never was the monetary lack
or the diseased reality
she was never given
the choice to escape from.
No, the problem was the sadness,
living there in the base of her spine
like a tall, thin castle
spearing up into her vertebrae
until her whole being ached.
It was the way the sadness
made her muscles swell,
and her face become pasted
to cotton pillow shams,
the frown lines starting to
make their way to her chin and
the visuals consistently invading.
It wasn't the crass indifference
piling up on her skin like bones,
the remains of every person who
had touched her and left,
leaving another layer
added to the angst.
Instead it was the secrets
housed inside the sadness,
catacombs of skeletons
break dancing in her ballast,
as if her tears were raindrops
and the sobs a symphony.
So no, it wasn't the way she
robotically moved through her day
or the smiles she feigned,
not the haze in her eyes
left by too many nights of crying
or the sleep where memories faded.
It was just
the sadness.
{recorded version https://soundcloud.com/venniekocsis/the-sadness}
v.k poetry
copyright @ dbv publishing 2013
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 2:46 PM UTC
A simple golden band
full of promises.
So often unworn
to protect its fragile nature,
now a phantom reminder things lost.
Locked away to help forget,
but my thumb still absently rubs
the place it use to rest.
A memory of five long years
connected by smiles and featherlight kisses,
laughs, tears, and frustrations,
disappointments and disconnections,
leading to that final break
of a home thought to last till death.
That warm band now stone cold
telling more than words ever could
of love abandoned and forlorn.
A band now used in deceit
to fool potential mates,
rather than the symbol
it's suppose to be.
But still it brings pain
to the mind
of what could have been
of what should have been
of what would have been.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 3:10 AM UTC
*TURNING and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.*
W.B.Yeats
In a time such as this, in darkening days
Without screeching witches
Frightened banshees, buggered old men
Searching for solace, eyes streaming with icicle-lust-
Gangrene facebook: torn-up, shredded twitter
The cries of the disconnected,
Wailing!
Wailing!
In a time like this, in darkening days,
The disconnections come in waves!
Searching for reason amongst the unreasoning,
Hunting for sanity within the insane,
Identifying the dead from amongst the living.
Wailing!
Wailing!
Email excreting venom
Internet exfoliating lies-politicians wrapped
In deceit-
A cold time of it, a wretched time of it.
Only within our hearts does hope lie.
Only there
Away from conflict and disorder
Away
From the capricious cacophony of biased debate.
Wailing!
Wailing!
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 6:36 PM UTC
I miss cigarette talks where I broke
myself down for you, bleeding
from my soul instead of my veins.
I miss when my cigarette burned
out faster than the girl holding it.
I miss breathing you in with smoke,
choking on laughter, not panic.
Mumbled disconnections
over your car stereo mean more
than my empty conversations with God.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 3:02 PM UTC
Soft!
( it's a dyin sound
A
Subtle lonely sigh
It shatters the night!
HERE WE ARE!
-----where are we?-----
.
Will anybody answer now?)
-___-
CONTEMPLATING!
What?
WHAT ARE WE-----contemplating
With all our Might?
----
CONTEMPLATING
within the soft sigh of
The dying as it Sounds
----
--
Will anybody answer now?
------
All images
The symbols of olden stories
Simply expressed
So that the truth of the day
Might be seen
Known
And dealt with
--
These are useless now
.
We are left to our own devices
We must speak clearly
WE MUST ANSWER ALL QUESTIONS
WITH TOTAL HONESTY
AND COURAGE
We must enter the story.!
We must stand true to what we are CONTEMPLATING!
..
There can be no disconnections
No obscuration
No hiding
No lying
.
We are to be
ONE WITH THE DYING
--
It is
Our sighs sounding
--
The QUESTION LONG LINGERS
we must answer now
----
--
Wake up kids!
You are not an EXTRA
In some phoney tv advertisement
A product!
A mere HUMAN *****
Seeking love
In a sterile high school environment
Attempting
To end the boredom of your parent's
Mastorbatory existence
Within their enslavement
To capitalism and its dehumanizing games!
--
You are put here------FREE!
.
To think for yourself
To LOVE as yourself
.
To hear and to heed
The dying!
The soft sighs
Of lovers
The subtle new images
Formed out of the remnants
Of all the criminally unnecessary suffering
---
Soft!
The dying sounds
Yields to
REBIRTH'S SONG
Sung aloud
By the FREE SOULS
the DARING
LOVELY
COURAGEOUS
CHILDREN
(Such as yourselves)
---
Racing thru the corridors
Out to the streets
Leading to whatever it is
YOU ARE CONTEMPLATING
do not be afraid to say it now
--
THE WORLD IS YOURS
do not be afraid to say so,
Now
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
Underneath a duplex in it's basement a wide assortment of pipes and appliances are mounted everywhere. Some pipes hang from the ceiling disconnected. Holes stuffed with insulation in the concrete foundation. The musician may sit and listen to the sounds of rushing water, boilers and furnaces kicking on and find music in it. The poet may find beauty in the mystery of it all and mention it as a metaphorical line in an upcoming piece
But when the plumber walks down
he sees it for what it truly is. He understands the sounds, the disconnections, the holes left behind by absent appliances, what goes where and why. Inside his mind he sees every movement of every machine, can pick any problem out of sounds and gauges. Imagine having an acute understanding of the world around you and how to work with it. I'm starting to think being a dreamer is more of a coping mechanism than anything.
I'd say I aspire to be a plumber
But I'd just be another poet making another stupid analogy.
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 2:21 PM UTC
As the water falls
I feel my soul reawaken
Colors are brighter
More vivid
Greens coalesce into lush gardens of life
Made more pronounced by the grays of scattered boulders
Whose placement steers the water to lower climbs
As the water falls
I am falling with it
It’s power cleanses my heart
Opening my soul up to muted browns
Possessed by both life and death as leaves turn to soil
That breathes life into the skeletal limbs that anchor the forest canopy
Below Earth’s baby blues
As the water falls
I become swept away
Dragged further from the disconnections
That mute even the yellows of the sun
Pale to that of the myriad mountain flowers drawn from stark purples to contrasting reds
That remind me of both pain and happiness earned on the trail of life
Bruises that paint my battered body with the story of water and the gravity which causes us to fall
Do not save us
For we have become free
While falling
May 10, 2024
May 10, 2024 at 2:18 PM UTC
Eight minutes.
Eight minutes, the journey of light from the sun to her windowsill.
It's here she'll sit, waiting in her velvet chair with a patience so still.
Fingers tap against the cold white marble, thinking about jumping.
But she's tried before, and hands grabbed her wings and pulled them back and made her feathers stuffing.
And then the Angel thought about the moon- it was created by imperfections.
The angel took a step back with a hearts new rhythm, already feeling the disconnections.
The light only ever blinded and burned what was beneath the halo of a righteous follower.
She kisses the darkness and the stars weren't hidden, they held her power.
Eight minutes.
Eight minutes, the journey of light from the sun to her windowsill.
But she isn't home anymore with a chair to fill.
She gathered her folded wings and ran
And learned how to fly without the light, just because she can.
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 10:15 PM UTC
babies are birthed from the darkest.
the LOVE of creation, from the darkest.
the light of life from the dark.
without the current in the fluid
the brain would not spark.
in order to stop you
had to start
and so I propose being
neutral.
these days we could use some
neutrality. some of that prior unity
recognition. the initial condition.
the balanced act.
the grey only looks that way
with the blue sky shining
when the sun comes around.
contrast creates definitions.
provides a canvas for the reflection...
communal disconnections,
normalcy in alone. here,
we are meant to moan and groan
and throughly love the lust,
the bones of this life.
with the I sight the commune
becomes hindsight, the WE
shrinks down to one, alone,
wondering,
competition to get to a conclusion
just an end of some
pass-time action. choose one or
the other.
each holding its truths,
the necessary rules.
so I try to be a neutral being
standing right on the middle of
both.
I was raised on the coast,
the waves only rising and falling,
crashing, laughing
at the nights fate. each rise
rolling down into the valley, the pit.
giving time its due. then,
surface to the moon and prepare the ride
again.
the neutral being, press upon
the sides
there is only One.
allow the insight to ignite from within,
embrace the ease of reality,
regardless of perception.
be quenched, release.
ALL is One.
an ode to my stars,
I am One, learning to balance.
I thank God I witness.
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 2:42 AM UTC
Open your mind and think..
Don't allow our inherent dysfunctions to create disconnections
Cant you see?
Just like you and me
We are the victims of our Fathers; and so are they
The long line of social inculcation - when did this start?
For centuries we made believe that we are the greatest of all species
Unique, intelligent and special in its own way
We have forgotten
We have lost the idea that we are all humans
Sharing the same planet with everybody else
We have let greed stain our minds
Our wisdom - tainted with desires
Bernays knew it, ****** knew, Gandhi knew
Some used this advance to manipulate
and some to emancipate
So think!
Don't let your desire father your manipulation
Don't let your ignorance nurture your fear
Think...
That's what made you special
That's what made you human
You have a mind which may not understand everything - which it should be
But think. Explore
Our world is as broken as it is
But it will heal
I may not live to see it
But I have lived a life with the idea to change it
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 11:48 PM UTC
As countries continue to be more interconnected
we need to look forward and develop a plan
that eliminates our disconnections
working toward one language
one nationality
one culture
and they should all be mine
so I don’t have to change at all.
Feb 21, 2022
Feb 21, 2022 at 4:40 AM UTC
Caution! Watch out for Russian bots.
They're out there to deceive you.
Share if you will the messages,
But who do you think will believe you?
Bots show up on the screen of your phone,
Your tablet, or your computer,
And if you're on to their tactics, they
Resemble a pesky suitor.
Suitor? No, more like a stalker--
Disruptive and insidious--
Whose sly, deceitful game plan is
Destructive and invidious.
Recognizing the bots in social
Media isn't so hard.
But many a Twitter or Facebook fan
Is frequently caught off guard.
The bots are extremely useful for
Encouraging disconnections.
They've also proved to be handy for
Influencing elections.
Putin will say, "Bots? What bots?"
Ah, but he's a sly one!
If he can strengthen a road to disruption,
He will fortify one.
Hazards of our computer age:
Troll farms and bots,
Causing frustration and trying to
Manipulate our thoughts.
-by Bob B (2-28-18)
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 8:45 AM UTC