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"earless" poems
Overnight, very Whitely, discreetly, Very quietly Our toes, our noses Take hold on the loam, Acquire the air. Nobody sees us, Stops us, betrays us; The small grains make room. Soft fists insist on Heaving the needles, The leafy bedding, Even the paving. Our hammers, our rams, Earless and eyeless, Perfectly voiceless, Widen the crannies, Shoulder through holes. We Diet on water, On crumbs of shadow, Bland-mannered, asking Little or nothing. So many of us! So many of us! We are shelves, we are Tables, we are meek, We are edible, Nudgers and shovers In spite of ourselves. Our kind multiplies: We shall by morning Inherit the earth. Our foot's in the door.
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Mushrooms
A drugstore pallid in waning light, always illuminated in halogen halos. I am earless with music. Black metal loud in clanging sets and blows- foreshadowing the smell of cleaning solution, air freshener and the outside sweet at my back all steeped deep in the rip roaring undertone torrent of cigarette smoke blended with cheap perfume until I cannot tell the difference. There is a limp familiarity to the underlying odor born partially of personal encounter and- nestled in the hive mind of social experience. A distillation of regret and remorse, of lonely, of irrelevance; this black hole swallows my voice the way of my ears, eaten by rust. Four cans of beans, kidneys, in cans squeezed without any power against sagging swells melting into other curves and I swerve close and around guiltily, noting you only as the source of this pungent spring. You are smiling apologies ignorant of my apparent inhumanity- blind to my selfish hands.. Pinioning belly flesh, flattening, reaching and gaining attendance from a better man retrieving every dropped can. I’m retreating, shaken, tense to alternatively slacken. My sweat slippery palms with whitened red sharp fingers feel foreign and I am surrounded by razors then shaving cream, moving from shampoo to conditioner, the whole store is infected with smell. Staring at nail clippers/snipers clipping touch smooth sooth my tense mind- don’t look **don’t look** I can sense little else but dread drawing closer you are now crouched so close I’m gagging, taken forcefully-swept away in an olfactory flood roiling in rot, currents of solitude exude from your smiling sullen appearance when I turn to you fumbling with my electric ears, surfacing in a breath of Amish silence broken with simple request and I want to scream at you that I am not a man to ask opinions of that it does not matter what fake nails she glues to her body that she is excluded and I don’t know why. I choose swirls of cream suspended within watery milk, over childish lady bugs framed by yellow or dots of red alternating to black, an epitaph to a lifelike effigy.
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Dec 10, 2010
Dec 10, 2010 at 1:42 AM UTC
The Inevitability of Human Incongruity.
A drugstore pallid in waning light, always illuminated in halogen halos. I am earless with music. Black metal loud in clanging sets and blows- foreshadowing the smell of cleaning solution, air freshener and the outside sweet at my back all steeped deep in the rip roaring undertone torrent of cigarette smoke blended with cheap perfume until I cannot tell the difference. There is a limp familiarity to the underlying odor born partially of personal encounter and- nestled in the hive mind of social experience. A distillation of regret and remorse, of lonely, of irrelevance; this black hole swallows my voice the way of my ears, eaten by rust. Four cans of beans, kidneys, in cans squeezed without any power against sagging swells melting into other curves and I swerve close and around guiltily, noting you only as the source of this pungent spring. You are smiling apologies ignorant of my apparent inhumanity- blind to my selfish hands.. Pinioning belly flesh, flattening, reaching and gaining attendance from a better man retrieving every dropped can. I’m retreating, shaken, tense to alternatively slacken. My sweat slippery palms with whitened red sharp fingers feel foreign and I am surrounded by razors then shaving cream, moving from shampoo to conditioner, the whole store is infected with smell. Staring at nail clippers/snipers clipping touch smooth sooth my tense mind- don’t look **don’t look** I can sense little else but dread drawing closer you are now crouched so close I’m gagging, taken forcefully-swept away in an olfactory flood roiling in rot, currents of solitude exude from your smiling sullen appearance when I turn to you fumbling with my electric ears, surfacing in a breath of Amish silence broken with simple request and I want to scream at you that I am not a man to ask opinions of that it does not matter what fake nails she glues to her body that she is excluded and I don’t know why. I choose swirls of cream suspended within watery milk, over childish lady bugs framed by yellow or dots of red alternating to black, an epitaph to a lifelike effigy.
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59
A fear of crazy turned Psychotic ****** Rotting Cakes Dribbled sugared wax And the birds spat out Their alphabet Out Pouting expletives At an earless void Too Sweet Incomplete A single (W)hole Freezer left to boil
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Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 2:02 PM UTC
Sickening
Lamentation; infelicity through neurotransmitters Passing fleetly; swift but disturbed Grids of brainwaves for the degraded Overhead LED view is negroided Chapter 1 Migraines; A klaxon that grains into migraine From there on out, strolling convulsion lane Deriving from deception; antibodies start to lead loosely Throe after throe I choose not to fuss Laceration in hemikrania is conversing with the rest of my body, Frequent as days turn nightly I host the severe megrimly Chapter 2 Vomiting; A horendous bile builds up in my throat Moaning like a ghoul; I banish the gloats Disgorging from nothing, Heaving and heaving the dry Although I force myself not, all the nosh turns into emit rye Vital fluid very crimson soon came From the cranium, I dislose, head pain Frequent as the waves harsh blows I host a ***** hose Chapter 3 Tumor; A neoplasm underneath I've found out Unvisible but there; my flesh will start swelling undoubt Below I feel like a mutant All putant and disformed Like globular liquids dripping from sewage waste As long as I can still haste Crescendo and surge won't ado Frequent as traffic builds a rush hour I host a cyst that is sour Chapter 4 Deaf; An absense of all frequencies I daze everso daily; Feeling like an earless statue; sound unaccompanied Missing the wind's howls that ululate, Clamors and bellows that spoliate I can't sight the same verbiage Without sonancy to inflicit, I see one big mirage Frequent as birth enfolds I host a soundless toll Chapter 5 Brain Cancer; A malignant fate told today Disease spreading like a machine, Programmed to enquire all it knows A gruesome and hateful dose; Withering casually away Grown apart of, I'm the prey As we hunt the beasts' An invisible naked eye is poaching Frequent as a house infested I host a cancerous clothing Chapter 6 Death; A termination soon to unfold I am as finished and ruined as story told Biological function ending Senescence through spending User maat I haven't seen all wanted Alas I am greatful for what has been daunted Frequent as a death anew I host a dissolution My evolution; through.
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Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 7:09 AM UTC
Brain Cancer (For Chuck)
Lamentation; infelicity through neurotransmitters Passing fleetly; swift but disturbed Grids of brainwaves for the degraded Overhead LED view is negroided Chapter 1 Migraines; A klaxon that grains into migraine From there on out, strolling convulsion lane Deriving from deception; antibodies start to lead loosely Throe after throe I choose not to fuss Laceration in hemikrania is conversing with the rest of my body, Frequent as days turn nightly I host the severe megrimly Chapter 2 Vomiting; A horendous bile builds up in my throat Moaning like a ghoul; I banish the gloats Disgorging from nothing, Heaving and heaving the dry Although I force myself not, all the nosh turns into emit rye Vital fluid very crimson soon came From the cranium, I dislose, head pain Frequent as the waves harsh blows I host a ***** hose Chapter 3 Tumor; A neoplasm underneath I've found out Unvisible but there; my flesh will start swelling undoubt Below I feel like a mutant All putant and disformed Like globular liquids dripping from sewage waste As long as I can still haste Crescendo and surge won't ado Frequent as traffic builds a rush hour I host a cyst that is sour Chapter 4 Deaf; An absense of all frequencies I daze everso daily; Feeling like an earless statue; sound unaccompanied Missing the wind's howls that ululate, Clamors and bellows that spoliate I can't sight the same verbiage Without sonancy to inflicit, I see one big mirage Frequent as birth enfolds I host a soundless toll Chapter 5 Brain Cancer; A malignant fate told today Disease spreading like a machine, Programmed to enquire all it knows A gruesome and hateful dose; Withering casually away Grown apart of, I'm the prey As we hunt the beasts' An invisible naked eye is poaching Frequent as a house infested I host a cancerous clothing Chapter 6 Death; A termination soon to unfold I am as finished and ruined as story told Biological function ending Senescence through spending User maat I haven't seen all wanted Alas I am greatful for what has been daunted Frequent as a death anew I host a dissolution My evolution; through.
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62
the candy cane sign   is gray with frost   its spiraled dance stopped years before the old man died     he, the emperor of hair, meant to get it repaired   like all good intentions and the clipped hair that got swept away   day by day, hour by hour, minute by m o m  e n t o u s     m o n o t o n o u s minute   the cutting, the sweeping punctuated by the clang of the register the hardy laugh at a racial joke   the passing of a borrowed smoke   and the buzzing silences in between when I would watch and wonder what spell he was under   in his royal white regalia   chopping and chatting away (at eyeless and earless heads I thought)   until I would sit in his chair   and escape the gulag of my life   with his ponderous questions about   feather light skies   heavyweight jabbing   the “old lady gabbing”   the engine in my “shrimp nip” car   and how very far I would go when I rose from his leather and chrome throne   and once again be on my own   with hair a bit shorter and life a bit neater   for a minuscule dot in time   I would not even remember when I thought of his implacable place in the cold past
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Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 7:50 PM UTC
the barber of Siberia
I ate a gnat then spat sat down digesting that what had happened when a fly flew up my *** and tickled so I farted blew him to three or four parts. Then, thinking all was done, a Beagle came and bit my ankle. I snatched him earless. Then to my dismay an Eagle came and said, "god ****** we are just hungry" He snatched my thumb and flew away into the frigid night with my digit. I now sit here, twaddlin'
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Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
i ate a
I ate a gnat then spat sat down digesting that what had happened when a fly flew up my *** and tickled so I farted blew him to three or four parts. Then, thinking all was done, a Beagle came and bit my ankle. I snatched him earless. Then, to my dismay, an Eagle came and said, "god ****** we are just hungry" He snatched my thumb and flew away into the frigid night with my digit. I now sit here, twaddlin'
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Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 7:34 PM UTC
i ate a
pull the trigger many times leave the unsuspecting wall behind you a scalded scarlet tapestry a Picasso of every raging memory etched on your festering finite folds splatter your secrets through the earless, eyeless air it will not care,  but you must pull the trigger over and over, for every silent sin must be expiated, and one shot is never enough all that is written must be erased no speck of you may be seen, no letters may form your name the world of faceless readers must forget you were ever there, lest your death will have been in vain there is nothing final in the stopping of a heart pull the trigger again and again leave no trace but art's dripping masterpiece in red
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Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 1:21 PM UTC
over and over
A tempest strung like so many small sick men, would never hold water, were the eyes of ants to open, and the mouths of the dead to speak. Yet find, I dare you! one person bigger then a mote, and I will show you more ants then can be counted. It is not for lack of men and women with a tree amongst the bones of the chest that keep birds from singing; but the greater number of def lambs and earless worms. A word can be spoken in a white castle, set on a mountain made of sand, through a billion empty windows and they call it truth. And yet, at the bottom of the largest ocean man has made, these words ring truer, yet more silent, then where all men must go.
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May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 9:17 PM UTC
Def lambs
L oveless I nfectious F earless E mpty - I solated S uffering - N otorious O ver-rated T erminal - W oeful O dible R uthless T ime-consuming H ateful - L onely I ntoxicating V icious I illaqueates N narquois G leek --
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Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 5:16 PM UTC
L-I-F-E- I-S- N-O-T- W-O-R-T-H- L-I-V-I-N-G-
It was revealed to me that dreams do come true Since then I would feel them with open eyes I always worked to be the finest and unbeatable Every time I struck goal the world would echo my name Folks and friends always proud to cheer from the crowd Badges and trophies were the souvenirs of my crib I shone the brightest in my tiny galaxy I could view my fearless luck walk towards me All I had to do was jump up high to touch the sky Without second thought I ran to grab it all Unable to sight the hurdle on the path I fell hard Clustered the scrap of me stood strong and promised not to dream again In seconds my cosmos turned dim and earless When I capitulated everything a pal held my hand Re-routed me to my course sung lullaby for me to dream again Mentored to take tiny step one after another crawled and walked along Have to shape my dreams into existence because one day my broken dreams won't be broken anymore
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Oct 28, 2017
Oct 28, 2017 at 11:22 AM UTC
Broken Dreams
I started from the bottom, isolated in an endless pit of darkness. The barriers i faced within myself, caged my desperate soul in a collection of fearful, baseless insecurities. turnover I danced the bandages loose from its tight binds around me. It's not that i'm no longer afraid. It's that i wasn't afraid to be scared anymore. I learnt to ignite a spark into a fire - bursting in a confetti of passion, my body is use to express. i will no longer have this toxic suppressed. fear? fearless. ( FAH )
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Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 1:59 AM UTC
(f)earless
apart from the city, steven is sleeping his fur is made of sunlight steven's retinals, archives of memories, are glowing beneath is a lake that reflects the shining steven's relaxed glimpse swims on the surface earlier, his pack was murdered above his head, an orbital cloud is floating ghosts of the dead ones urge to communicate across the lake, a maze of wishes drifts through the water empty faces, eyeless and earless
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Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 4:32 PM UTC
Steven, The Animal
Reeds tickle from the edges of stems - moving fingertips which you hear from my chapped lips - commitment.
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Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 11:58 AM UTC
Earless
Tumbling through the rabbit hole down sets of spiral stairs You try to keep your candle lit But darkness never scares There are walls in place to separate craft of your own hand; Bricks of thoughts so heavy Even dreams don't stand a chance Poison heavy poison works these walls from outside in You slam doors that can't be opened pinch your skin to wake again You are trapped Tick tick Hunched in half Tick tick Lungs collapsed Tick tick   Now the queen of your being Cuts off her own head The wrong Alice Wrong alice Wrong Alice she said Let me go you beg the earless cease   Shrink and grow Seek silence {               } SLAY THE BEAST
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Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 12:42 PM UTC
Wonderland
as happens, some days, many times, one thought stops. Pops, you might think, but stops, silent. Stop. Nada mas, allowing critical discernment, discovering the use of the verb, believe projecting from letters spelling chants in single breathed tones exhaled, in Mongolian we all feel we understand. Anotia means no ears, in Greek, I think, persistant notion conscience, earless urgings, mused ambient conditions considering, maybe amuse means being used to be what I am in mind being integrally essentially a thought in words ex nihilo in current context, from no good reason written, never spoken, spelled and cast, by accident here… sure the thought terminated… then you thought it kept on…
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Jan 8, 2025
Jan 8, 2025 at 6:16 PM UTC
Well amused per haps
a woman of God I try to be but sin is in the air as much as salt ia in sea my lust licks the heart of my lips there are body parts I am blind of the shame of being thirty five and never know the touch of a man drawing a map of the world on my back with his finger in my sweat the arch of it when his hand casually marks Africa A woman of God, I am not But a woman, a tender lover my head folding into his neck as if the angles had been calculated exactly, beforehand I am earless in the face of the battlefield that every woman crosses, every day I am clever a devourer of booka, article, savagely attacking tainted tabloid trash I am a Godless woman, but a thousand times more a woman than God could make me
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Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 12:44 PM UTC
A Woman of God
You are faceless to my sight, earless to my listening and breathless to my breath but I am feeling you in me 🥀🥀🥀 I really love you whatever type color you are
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Jan 18, 2021
Jan 18, 2021 at 2:16 AM UTC
Whatever type