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Janos Toth Jul 2012
my shrink told me:

"Feelings:
Pathetic.
Baked clouds:
Attention!
A broken butterfly:
Holy fear"

abortion, gay marriage, suicide, depression, faith diversity, disunion, pacifism, the internet, green peace, the national institutes of guns, alcohol and cigarettes, math teachers, poorly written books and well-written books, science, documentaries, the 90′s Cartoon Network, solutions for first, second and third world problems, the Venus project, conspiracy theories, poker, chess and backgammon, ******, music, female *******, boys playing with dolls and offensive language are nothing

we are all attention ******.
we are born and buried
for attention.
we endure awkwardness
for attention.
we have *******
for attention.
god will be afraid of us
for attention.

so I told him**:

"Let's face it
nothing will be everything!"
it just came to me and I thought it would be a good idea to write it down. I think I will change my mind in 5 minutes or so.I will probably rewrite it with 90% of the words cut out.
John F McCullagh Jan 2019
A House divided cannot stand,
though we try to preserve it no one can.
Uncivil discourse leads to civil unrest.
Both sides dig their heels in
But no one is impressed.
I recall this all happened once before
when rancor escalated into civil war.
Six hundred thousand died by the end
and the weapons they used were inferior then.
What will the butcher’s bill cost us this time?
The hate of disunion-
It Approaches

It’s time.
A play on words about the State of the Union address which will not be delievered
Lauren Denning Nov 2012
Resolved.
Decisive.
Determined.
Unconcerned.
Absolute.
Established.
Poised.
Braced.
Fixed.
Certain.
Unsure.
Wil Wynn Jan 2010
check it out check it out
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
it's da state of this here disunion
this here bangalore torpedo seeks yer minefields
this here suffering hero
n
crows about         strafes
multitudes                 peripherally
****** blind prophets
exclaim
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
it's nothing but beginning
of  beginning & z end of approximation
time's sweet angry subluxation
universal caving in on U & U
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
when was z last time U really loved
i mean really really really loved
ha i could only hold to z imagination
z skeleton z allegory z myth
'cause everything slides & falls
screams careens outta control
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
she brought in rrrrevolution.evolution.now
is z caustic effervescence of her wit
eroding my sandy castle of deceit?
ha and repeat ha
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
forgive-me-notes are written high
on z forehead of my despair
a cursive flowing interdiction
malediction cruxifiction err-u-diction
en-passant
in each pyrotechnic moment when we don't see I-to-I
on anything relevant to what we once hoped was us
but we continue dance dance dance
perseveration aberration indiscretion cha-cha-cha
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
she said *** is z engine of z world
like engine like world like ***
like like like
could say no more
oh it's tiresome to go on
describing that chimeric uniting
flesh-to-flesh-in-flesh eliding
we all are guilty of
do not end a line with a preposition such as
that or a proposition such as this:
given angle a prove that old triangle theorem
two simultaneous loves don't make a right
cherchez les angles les anglais la bon mot
ya know
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
when i die please  bury me upside down
prone to z ground making dead love to earth ya kno
while the centuries lie down next to me
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
chic!
chic!
SassyJ Jan 2016
Wailing walls, howling fences
Encaged and blocked by barriers
All smashed, sorted in security fence
Miles of humanity and flesh torn apart
Why is it that we can’t live together?
We bleed the same coagulating blood
Lined up and humiliated in alleyways
Paths of iron bars and imprisonment
My veins wringed, intensive torment
Mentally distracted, strained by grief
Settlement, conflicts and border struggles
Governance, religious trickles of disunion
The biblical birthright verses human rights
The unsighted straining peace settlement
Shadows of the peace blueprint screams
Ongoing reconciliation, milked in small doses
Whose home is whose? Subdivided in areas
Controls of disillusionment undisclosed
Unmanned checkpoints evokes fears
Revolving cameras tossed and turned
Bansky slogan “make hummus not war”
Smashes freedom to uproot  and merge
Constitute and construct peaceful resorts
All horns blowing to collapse duality
Passing through the Palestine-Israel controlled areas hit me really hard. Walls so high evoking fear. More so, lining up for few hours was draining, as got cleared to end up again on the Palestine area . This time the queue was longer than before. Another traveller got very upset and passed the line. The locals were complaining asking me to "speak to your friend" but she would not listen and passed the queue. I had decided to line up again and this made me become more empathetic about people who have to undergo such security checks on regular basis.
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2015
a. aristotle's nonchalance in comparison to his other ideas when investigating the lagoon (although wrong on the no. of teeth in a woman's mouth and the origin of flies from rotting fish - two jars, one open, the other covered - he treated his theory of adaptation of an animal / in humans on an individual basis - with less concentration of necessity for the theory to be expanded than his logic or poetics) - i.e. it was not good enough to be made dogmatic, like darwinism, therefore aristotelian darwinism does not exact a necessity to put the theory akin to a theological standpoint.

b. 'the darkened mind, whether that be by illness or some other cause illuminates in reverse to the mind of the plateaus: the stark difference is that the darkened mind attracts light like a moth into it, although it does this attraction without ever revealing the pin-point, the last revealing point of what the light has to illuminate, it's no good providing this point in a reference to psychology searching for the "ego" of that known existential notative abstraction working on the basis of the pro-verb: know your self. the darkened mind is in fact providing the basis for the search of nothing, and a subsequent of offshoot of what knowledge nothing provides: whether that's geology, pharmacology, chemistry, physics, or any of the humanities - although the humanities actually provided the basis for scientific study, since it was poetry that was criticised, and provided the basis for the two socratic pillars: knowledge of your self | knowledge of nothing - without a critique of poetry none of the subsequent investigations beginning with a non-empirical study that's philosophy would still be among the crumbs of history and stone of the parthenon. subsequently the mind of the plateaus simply regurgitates via regression to a known origin, it illuminates with knowledge that was hidden for a while, esp. during the times of illiteracy, which made it easier, although these days almost every man is literate, he is still illiterate in the sense that he prefers images to words / symbols... he's being fed a second illiteracy even though he is literate, therefore whatever knowledge is provided, it's immediately hidden, hidden via the use of images to distract, because words and the symbols that create them are not of an ontology of distraction, but harsh / labouring engagement - esp. if they are not used for the utility of speech, but made solely cognitively optical, they resonate with a double decker bus filled with about 90 people and only one person reading a book.

c. ah the introduction is over, and then the actual poem,
if i could remember it exactly,
it dealt with a cartesian contemplation
dealing with an extension from the trinity model,
what was the extension model? what was the basis
of it? i remember noting that the mind of the plateaus
originality came only with coinage of phrases,
i.e. coining a phrase, or simply crafting a
new compound from words rather than chemical
derivatives... the philological monstrum
of a fixed prefix like sub- or un-
and then the all encompassing suffix
like -conscious - and then some grand complication,
like the word oedipus becoming a complex,
and this complexity reaching a point
where no original idea can be encompassed,
because what's required is the practice
of creating and using an analogue,
so that those in the range of the intended
gesture do not have to go further in their reading
but further their practice: a draw of stars...
none longer or shorter than the other,
all uniform... one shoe fits all story...
i mean how can words conjure ideas
(esp. original ideas) if words are intended
for meaning, and solely that?
ideas come when the intended usage of
such symbols as a - z are not expressed in
how they were intended to be expressed:
pre vox. if you spend a long time with these
symbols in the optic area rather than the
larynx area... you'll find the holy grail of
crafting and fathoming ideas...
philosophy begins here... seeing rather than
the utility of these symbols... to see with them
rather than to speak with them... after all...
think twice before saying something stupid.
i'm still bothered by that cartesian connection,
how did i manage to tangle in the one third
of the equation: substance, thought, extension?
what the hell was i comparing to make that
analogy? surely it wasn't a way of working
from the way existentialists abstracted
something concrete as an identity and decided
to do the pontius pilate of washing their
hands clean of any responsibility using the ditto
marks? sure this abstract enclosure for an identity
(in phonetic units expressed as ego)
cannot have stable if not merely sane grounding
in all serious theoretic engagement by the logic
of being a possessor of a soul;
first they dispossess the people's confines
of the soul's existence, later they come after thought,
and it's there, the proof, like today in the supermarket,
me waltzing for my intended purchase,
and a horde of zombies bewildered by
the abundance of products... standing about the aisles
mouths open, ready for the wind to change
direction and their mouths perpetually opened
with the medussa wind... or simply waiting for
the next pigeon to do his duty on a copper statue
of churchill outside parliament sq., bleached crop
of hair with **** in it.
honestly... the zombies are coming...
first they fool the people that they have no soul,
backed up by the logic of a soul that, when
compounded (i.e. psychology) makes it sounds
important, like an edict by the house of windsor
about to make rise to the 2nd lord protector
via a re-emergence of oliver cromwell...
then they decide to invade the parameters of thought,
they used psychology (the existent non-existence
of the soul) to banish all original thinking...
thought has become banished into hades...
if the soul is not allowed in the body, then
thinking surely isn't either, and how did they do it?
they said: the existent non-existence of the soul
will convince thought to disappear, making
the body virtually mirror like invisible -
like a black kid before the social revolutions
at the back of the bus, before the old lady stepped up,
and yet in the 21st century, the old minotaur is there
at the gate of the new labyrinth; in my school days
all the black boys sat... well... you guest it...
at the back of the bus... so much for the old lady
making a stand.

d. as the title suggests i was working up to a crescendo,
i was about to mention the sort of confusion cuneiform
might have provided had it existed in writing
but not in thought, although we write with latin symbols,
i'm sure that our thinking is still ingrained in
the coming of the three magi and the loss of cuneiform,
all the many offshoots of christianity you'd think
we were living in babylon, where the king went
mad, and the hebrew architects scratched their heads
so hard and so long that it caused the babylonian
king to become sensitive to scratching sounds,
he ran out of the palace screaming:
'cockroaches! cockroaches everywhere!'
then the enslaved hebrew architects just said:
but sire... gardens upside down? earth above sky?
how will that work... we did the pyramids,
perfect geometry, perfectly understandable geometry,
but garden that grow trees upside down?
didn't you hear the greek theory of how trees grow
by eating the earth from below, rather than above?
'cockroaches! cockroaches are nibbling!'
so i did end the poem i lost via a message on the screen...
jimi is dead, forget jim.
i ended it by noting the admiration of the romans
when it came to the mausoleum at halicarnassus,
persian design, intended for mausolus,
so admired that the word mausoleum gained
popular public everyday usage status,
a bit like a war-pig / war-dog in the legionnaire army,
above the general's servant: does battle...
doesn't do pampering with perfumes.
seems fair enough, got the warring grunts / barks,
runs miles with the horses, has a piquant snout and tongue
for human flesh... plays dead, finds mushrooms
beneath the slain... speaks broken german war-cry...
perfect for combat... not really perfect for my quarters of rest.

e. what does it really matter, this 200,000 million
or thousand year old historical co-ordinate?
the chinese were drawing dragons with the welsh
concerned with st. george long before dinosaur
bones were unearthed; if this isn't an example
of the jungian collective unconscious of being
"clued-in" then i don't know what is...
esp. given that not even 2000 thousand years of
history fits into my brain when i boil
a kettle filled with water in 5 minutes...
smoke a cigarette in the same amount of time,
it makes no sense to "pump iron" so much
when practising history to go as far back as that,
it makes in-the-moment living so far detached
from life per se, that you begin to wonder
why we went further than the epic of galgamesh
(where all western take on history begins)
or the upanishads... when the caste system
became operational: from dark skinned sri lankans
to the masters on the boarder of the himalayas:
un-believable... racism within a society
that did not expand into colonialism...
strange to have kept the blue indians in mint condition
due to the cuisine... and have slaughtered the red
indians keeping them a minority to such an
extent as to keep them in nature reserve parks...
black president is a phenomenon? a slave, former,
is a phenomenon? i puppet i suspect...
get a native on the top seat and their will be
less jubilation i gather.
but that blue indian word for demon: rakshasa...
from the serialisation on the t.v. entitled indian summer...
the h as silent as in dhaal?

f. if something profound has happened to you,
and you want to speak about it,
remember to take hold of the psychiatric buffer,
this buffer zone will enable you to see
an atypical sociological reactive compound
of the ****** expression, it will reveal
who you can reveal a secret to,
after all, psychiatry is all about listening,
therefore not thinking, therefore not doubting,
therefore actively engaging with the precursor
negation... sartre to descartes:
i use too many punctuation and "punctuation"
marks, therefore i can't couple thinking with
doubting, i must therefore couple thinking
with negation... descartes to sartre:
i always knew that even though we salvaged
the latin alphabet by adding the diacritical marks,
our punctuation and style would get the better of us...
what's the point of ć ń ś ó if we have
the capsule of " " to mind in terms of what words
are allowed a blessed disunion from meaning
when over-used esp. when you to deceive rather
than covey orthodox meaning?
Chimera melons Mar 2010
Finite Fjords ferried then forgotten
junctures Masking mashups
disunion unfound by everyone
slackface mouth agape
tongue in cheek spittle drips
words trapdoored out
vocal vacuum chords
strum silence

heretical heresay
the headlight sped north
Abortion of caged comfort
Abort wars, birth best
invent intentional acts
WILLED UNDEVILED DEEDS
BLEED BREED PLEAD
SERENITY WITHOUT ANY GRANDIOUSITY
this poem belongs to my alter ego who hijacks my body from time to time
chump Jun 2016
I get my power from the people
the people with dark skin
or the racist or the sexist
I'd guess you'd say my kin
sure i'm a ****
but they'd vote for me again

go on you gay boys
and pack your fudge
you make me sick
but I wont judge
your limp wristed vote
will give me a nudge

no comprendo
no problemo
our border is abierto

ladies our babies
you can ****
I know you wont use it
but you can have a free pill

you abandoned your men
to promote other races
what I got planned for you
we wont see your faces

your just a tool
until your country splits
then i'll stick your high heels
where just the heel fits
barefoot and pregnant
no silicone ****

my IQ is low
the conclusion is forgone
more further proof
that I am a *****
i'm changing this place
I got my muslim groove on

I **** on your laws
and you don't do a thing
i'm strutting around
like I was a king

catch me red handed
I couldn't care less
my back pocket's got
the main stream press

they repeat my lies
like a brainless parrot
while I lead you away
from buffet
with a carrot


in the office of oval
the loss is a total
that taste in your mouth
it's totally scrotal

to liars and ****-ups
promotions i'll give
our national security
will leak like a sieve

if I was a civilian
and still such a villian
my worthless *******
in prison would be chillin'

when America aint free
blame it all on me
you'll be china's *****
just wait and see
third world country
from sea to shining sea
on one of nato's thrones
is where I'll be

i'm the fascist, smashist
of the constitution
I can't over state
your future disillusion
I'm here to **** up
your state of union..
nihiliti Jun 2018
guilty guillotine
cut the cordiality
decapitate my capital
bereft of debt but dead

sins cashed out
at the redoubt
the readout states
he served the state medium-well
high stakes games
never play out
prime timely

passed the ball before his
(half)time trials in the hall
of Hades' heroes
trophy case cages commemorative
accompanying accommodations
on company A's dime
dyed (c)ammo/comedy gold

commies died in red tape
holding back third wave
tsunamis made by little boys
and fat cats in league
of farms with the pigs
beating b(l)ack the blue
in the faces of pro-testing
human lives in danger of
aborting the right to ask
who's right?

do not collect/make cents/money ☞

unmarked graves
poor marks/low grade
explosive yields in fields of
gilded grain against woods
buying forests by the tree
swaying serenely, at peace
like only broken bodies can be
felled for freedom from failed
harvests, too costly
inflating lives now worthless

revolutionary's revolting; reminding readers
read the red print
for Jesus wept
'cause Lazarus died again
and this timestamp
demarcates the end
of resurrected american dreams
democracy demands your undecapitated capitulation

live free™ or die
"United we'll fail, divided we'll fall / We're ******, but you're making it worse"
SassyJ Apr 2016
Whispers questioning foreigners
Building tension from table across
Take a knife and dissect differences
The eyes light, oestrogen unequalises

Taunting demons flirting and damning
Why do you need to case in boxes?
Daunted, a downwards destruction
Demolitions makes the peace go away

Maps are just a physical division of space
A worth that float and boasts territories
How can we ever make this go away?
Barbaric conceptions, traumatic redemptions

The discernment pleading patriotism
Humanity claiming one consciouness
Nationality embodied in bordered lines
A  contradictory label leading to disunion
Fear is a dragon that slain and strains all.
Geno Cattouse Oct 2013
It's a sad thing to see a mind wicker out.Have you ever had the distinct timing to sit and watch one lose their minds. Really weigh anchor and drift.? I have. On two occasions.
My, as an observer of the human condition,it is moth to flame-like.

Have you ever seen a helium balloon gently sailing to points unknown ?.
Hither and tither The word discombobulated seems worthy.Every gentle gust is it's master.
Or one party ornament broke loose from the park-party to snare and jitter as the string bickers with the  needy high tension wire.

THEN THERE IS THE OTHER.
A MOTHER AND CHILD DISUNION.  As she sits staring at the small gleaming casket well placed for all to see. Below the alter. I sit five rows back and I watch her falter.
God is watching they say and no sparrow shall fall they say.

But sure as night follows day I can hear her scream. A psychic ricochet soundless. WHY ?.

And later at the green acres.
manicured to perfection.
a six by hole dug with practiced precision. It waits. for the
slow procession.

the last flower tossed in. The thump of the first shovel of dirt.
And ashes  to ashes. She walks away.
seems to saunter under ease of libation. Oh no.
A minds liberation.Ship leaving port.
Slowly navigates to deep and vast.

Gentle insanity at last. Maybe tearing later.
One piece missing from the puzzle forever.
Not an edge piece so as not to be noted easily.

Gone nonetheless.
Flip the switch to babies room. close the door.
Lights out.
Sorry for the darkness. It knocks unannounced. I open the door.
DP Schott Jan 2019
I Am The Lonely One.
Too Scared to Make The Leap.
Too Charred And Disfigured To Near The Flaming heat.

A Lonely Place Gazing At This Flame , Knowing It Can Open The Door To A Lost Vigor For Life.

That Spirit Of Love.
Oh To Ignite The Joy, That Love Of Life
To Make That Vault  into This Beautiful Flame
To Once Again Revel In The joy Of Love.

I'm The Lonely One
On The Sideline, Indecision Plaguing My Mind.
Disunion and Cognitive Oppositions,
CURSING  My Mind.
Love Is Surely What I Desire.
Safety For Heart And Soul
Paramount, Practical Postures For A Creature So Tortured By This Flame

I Am The Lonely One
Too Scared To Leap
Too Charred And Disfigured to revel in This  Flame And Heat
I Dare Not Gaze At This Crystal Flame Lest I jump In and
Revel once more, no, no, no, Dancing With This Flame Is A Much Too Precariously Dangerous Proposition.  I will Never Be Branded again,  Emotionally ***** Again. Unfortunately For Me,  My Answer Lies Here...

I Am The Lonely One
Jim Kirk Feb 2020
OrIginally published JANUARY 2017 -
The Leader
February 2020 - He Marches On.

Hoofbeats from a strange land,
As cascading Thunder roared,
upon the horse of prosperity,
     he rode purposely,

Many embraced him as disciples,
  Others laughed and jeered,
     A fool has come today,
   But his garments are fine,

Not a son of god nor prophet,
  But rain in a drought,
    For the thirsty,
Who had tasted sand,

  A destroyer for others,
ancient dams would fall,
Thunder, blessings, cursing’s,
For The Leader had come,


  A Time of fear for her,
  A Time of hope for him,
They danced in bitterness,
Why this volatile disunion,

The Leader on his day,
Shouted visions for disciples,
unbelievers swam in confusion,
Many cried and screamed,
              Alas,

James Kirk-Wiggins (c) 2017
Presidential election 2017
md-writer Sep 2019
Take care that life does not pass you by
in the busy moments of our finity.

Time cannot be regained when
once it has flown. No hope is
there for the moments spent in anger,
silence unlovely, and the heady
disunion of words spoken in haste.

Let every movement be made as if through
a fast-moving river, and you walk
against the current,
in danger every moment of
being swept away.
You told me
You didn't believe in divorce

Then what is this?

The dictionary says divorce
Also means separation, disunion,

That is what you made us
You separated the remaining pieces

Of our love
You broke our union
The one of dreams

You divorced me

For I am no longer in your life

And that was your choice

Maybe you believe in divorce after all.
Rohan P Apr 2018
ii.

the nighttime
nods and mourns to
the sounds of your breathing—
like a beacon of the sea, she feels
the pull of the moon, feels the
rising shadows of disunion

that mass of air, thicker
than the crust of the earth and
the layers of the ether;
you couldn’t remember how to smile or
laugh or cry—

you just sighed
at her.
part two
cry—
Svetoslav Oct 2023
It's withering away,
like a flower without water,
dying alone and drying in dismay.

The black clouds have obscured the sky,
and the sun's burning flames sustain life.
It's piercing the heart, blooming with light.

The Death of Love is like an unsung song.
It's tender to dream of listening but cruel when it doesn't play.
Words are left unspoken, and separation is prolonged.

You and I, what we left due to not knowing that sparks set up the fire,
but a lone spark fades in the wind's evil howling.
Vanity is loving oneself or believing you rest close to a playing lyre.

Let us embrace the end, not succumb to our desires.
The fires still burn within the darkest nights.
Forget the past and live, bursting out of the briars.

And our love is a forgotten song.
It's endearing to dream about but callous to forget.
Words are left unspoken, and the disunion prolongs.
Most salient benefit
anorexia nervosa wrought
excerpt, qua gut tease
burg address er...
four decades and seven years ago
plus countless hours, days, weeks...
elapsed with nary morsel

passing between two lips
starving lovely bones
dedicated grueling proposition
suicide knows no equal,
where puny pubescent (me)
engaged with self

consuming civil war
testing whether that
psychologically afflicted lad
willingly conceived during
heated passionate *******
'tween young married couple

copulated, created and begat
one scrawny son
flailing his spindly limbs
arm n ham heard skinny legs
still generates risible outbursts
analogous to firearms bursting

nearly met his demise
wit dem dim eyes of his,
though nursed courtesy mother
licensed practical medical practitioner
livingsocial severely undermined,
even presenting disunion
at this moment

peudo soldier of misfortune,
though quasi silver lining
stitched into corporeal being
nsync with coaxing
increased devotion to curry
lame literary accomplishments
until gratefully dead.

No meal taken until task
witnesses completed writing assignment
usually poetically kindled
flummery accomplished
hungry artist hyper aware
literary creativity bubbles forth

accentuated, buttressed pronounced
attempt crafting epistle,
endeavor to write heightened,
when sustenance withheld
body electric induces nattering nabob,
(yours truly) thwarts appetite

digestion process consumes energy
buzzfeeding grumbling beast
within mine belly
predictably, immediately, automatically
satiatiation consummated
to appease nagging wife
induces without fail mine glorious
eyes blink shut tight.
Harmony May 2020
We are rising in consciousness, us **** sapiens
We are seeing that regardless of futile attempts
We are born of the same and carried in the same
We the script writers of the hall of fame

Globe is our home with no line of separation
Global is our consciousness and cannot be split
Globally we move in and out of the same sphere
Going here and there we play everywhere

Coming to terms with the unity
Coming home to oneness
Surrendering to the love divine
Soaking in the love we denied

We are the makers of our own worlds
We are the cause that effected disunion
We did it for the fun of it
We now know we could have known

It is a joy to look back
It is a joy to look forward
It is a joy to know
That there is no back or forward

Here is the eternal now
Here is the eternal present
Here it is and not even there
Here in this breath all present

Be home stay home
Be yourself stay well
Be the Self and create
Be the light and shine on
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2018
believe me, even i want
to wake up from my dreams,
i wake up, and have these hallucinations
or being a spectator,
in a game of pawn v. king,
or a cat v. mouse...
    and, every, single, time,
i want to wake up...
   the whole macabre feel of them...
it's puritanical horror,
a man strapped to a chair...
and a drill, pulverizing his cranium /
piercing hos cheeks while
attempting a make-shift
scene from an escapade in dentistry...
the ******* scenes are so...
bleak... that i want to wake up
from the nightmare...
but then, when i do,
i take myself to charge into
a forest... blacker than the shadow
of death, growling, screaming,
throwing *****-fits of about to
melt accusation in the form
of heaped dung over the corpse
bravado...
           and the whole affair,
culminates in a taste akin to:
     powdered sugar...
           with a raspberry, piquant
extract of concentrated juice...
     finger-licking-good ma'am...
oh but i know i'm the protagonist in
these macabre dreams...
that's why i play the role of some
casual spectator....
   i'm always in the ******* gimp
suit of wanting to wake up...
the horrors i've seen...
        it's not that couldn't be deemed
the lord of infinitesimal if i didn't
dream terrible dreams...
           the spatial confinement is
but one aspect...
   the fact that i see the chief,
the protagonist... and he's me...
         and i'm not him...
and i see what becomes of the seen
but... the contraceptive of
potential?
        and the fact that i'm always
wanting to wake up?
              yet at the time dragged down
into the **** of images
eating out my eyes?
  the chair, the hammer, the drill...
the pseudo-dentistry tactics?
    about now you could be the person...
peering at your shadow,
and finding the same shadow,
borne with eyes...
in the land of sleep...
  to the minor venture of
Narcissus peering into his reflection...
Kant would have said...
to peer into the shadow,
is to allow the shadow
to let you peer into the cinema of
sleep with, more clarity than,
you'd expect to be nothing more
than some bogus demand for
a roller-coaster;
first comes the staring match
with the shadow,
which elevates you to dream
with an eloquence that
disregards dreams as stupid
entertainment outlets...
then?
           the stare into the mouth
of death...
            a composite of,
and a disunion,
                 culminating in
the rattling, gnashing jawline of
Hamlet...
                 with every dream,
i wake up, "knowing"...
that i'm not the monster i've
had the uncomfortable presence
to be encompassed with.
Ryan O'Leary Dec 2023
ISM
.                                         *
                                          ^
                                         /  \
                                        /    \
              IS THERE A SCHISM BETWEEN
              YOUR BIGOTRY BIAS AND ISM.
                 DON’T LECTURE ME AGAIN
            ABOUT ****** DISCRIMINATION
               ALIENATION OR SEPERATION
              CHAUVINISM EVEN RACIALISM.
        DETACH YOUR DISCORDED DISUNION
     YOUR PREJUDICED INTOLERANCE FROM
           PAIN THE RAIN THAT POURS FROM
                                  ISRAHELL
                                       ON
                                     GAZA.

— The End —