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"eject" poems
Stumbling into ancient scripts, authored a decades plus ago, ago being a modifier of time quantities, minute or large, unspecific without an objective adjective additive, that faucets a stream of an interlocutory elocution of a batter of rooted emotional histories, but not histrionics fanciful words for dredged up memories, acute, but tarnished, powered yet worn by a cousin of ago, a/k/a, age and yet renews as of, at this very second, as if it were a first, a tumult of visions, swelling of remembrances, embodied scars, and I weep anew but not for me, as much for the resonating simpatico souls with whom they even  now vibrate with resonance of the immediacy of If not now, When? Aside: The exterior environment is noisy wet pelting of thunderstorms and ****** sheets of bulleting rain, piercing projectiles, but I am safe in the sunroom, sadly happy my dog is no longer here to shiver and tremble, cuddle and be soothed by steady stroking But I am here, wrestling with this dredging operation, digging up tons of sand that require dumping, and I ask, inquire, beg: Who will take this detritus off my hands, once more, now uncovered, now recovered, the soil is already soaked and can absorb no more, the soul is already soaked and can absorb no more, the weakened heart, damaged and occluded, suffer cannot bare twice the outrageous misfortune of unbared recollections, twice, or thrice, and I feel myself drowning in revisiting pain, **** **** **** these old poems, not nuggets, but boulders dropping from night skies, shot from a pitching machine, without letup, piercing of agonies that once ago   freshly desecrated and decorated my basic training in humanity. Enough whining: *I wrote those poems to eject out those pains, and I write this now, once more, to realize that so so many still face uncertain and unrelenting similarities, doing their own sums, and I wish them easing, strength to compose and thereby dispose of the ineloquent and eloquent words of staining suffering* 3:30am Thur July 10 2025
0
Jul 16, 2025
Jul 16, 2025 at 5:39 PM UTC
Older poems, new readers, familiar thoughts...
Stumbling into ancient scripts, authored a decades plus ago, ago being a modifier of time quantities, minute or large, unspecific without an objective adjective additive, that faucets a stream of an interlocutory elocution of a batter of rooted emotional histories, but not histrionics fanciful words for dredged up memories, acute, but tarnished, powered yet worn by a cousin of ago, a/k/a, age and yet renews as of, at this very second, as if it were a first, a tumult of visions, swelling of remembrances, embodied scars, and I weep anew but not for me, as much for the resonating simpatico souls with whom they even  now vibrate with resonance of the immediacy of If not now, When? Aside: The exterior environment is noisy wet pelting of thunderstorms and ****** sheets of bulleting rain, piercing projectiles, but I am safe in the sunroom, sadly happy my dog is no longer here to shiver and tremble, cuddle and be soothed by steady stroking But I am here, wrestling with this dredging operation, digging up tons of sand that require dumping, and I ask, inquire, beg: Who will take this detritus off my hands, once more, now uncovered, now recovered, the soil is already soaked and can absorb no more, the soul is already soaked and can absorb no more, the weakened heart, damaged and occluded, suffer cannot bare twice the outrageous misfortune of unbared recollections, twice, or thrice, and I feel myself drowning in revisiting pain, **** **** **** these old poems, not nuggets, but boulders dropping from night skies, shot from a pitching machine, without letup, piercing of agonies that once ago   freshly desecrated and decorated my basic training in humanity. Enough whining: *I wrote those poems to eject out those pains, and I write this now, once more, to realize that so so many still face uncertain and unrelenting similarities, doing their own sums, and I wish them easing, strength to compose and thereby dispose of the ineloquent and eloquent words of staining suffering* 3:30am Thur July 10 2025
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40
If you grasp tight to your                          individualism, Give in to all the                       romanticism, Rid of any          materialism, Confide within                    professionalism, Drop all acts of                     favoritism, Eject from any              vulgarism, Open up to            socialism, Advocate          activism, Realize you are an                           organism, Forget about any                      perfectionism, And explore inside                          transcendentalism, You will look up into complete mesmerism of how all the stars are symbolism for the billion versions of creationism that you've ever lived, and will live.
0
Sep 13, 2011
Sep 13, 2011 at 8:57 PM UTC
Untitled
Aibo Yewena! Phela ngisakuthanda Ngikucabanga ngize ngibone ikhanda lam' selinezandla, Ngibone ikhanda lam' seliyi CEO, Mengcabanga wena Ikhanda lam' liba uPrincipal, Liyangiphatha. Ngizwa bethi uthatha ama applications. Ngiyakucela phela love le CAO engifakile ayibe successful. Angifune reject phela le Degree yoThando lwakho ngyayfuna Noma ngasayenzanga icourse yokuba istraight I right neye side chick, sengiyo modifyer next year. Uyi status seFeleb yini? Coz I like You! Kuthi angifanise inhliziyo yami ne DVD wena uyi player, wa pressa u open wayifaka I CD wathi close isadlala kamnandi wapressa u eject! Aibo kanti unjani player? Aibo Yewena! Aibo Yewena uthi awungilahlekelanga njer? Ngoba namanje inhliziyo yami isakufuna Aibo my top deck! Namanje ngisakuhalela, kodeke ngizokuphonela just ukbingelela noma ngikuhayele. Aibo Yewena! Ngisalifuna namanje leliya fosholo, phela wena usaqala ukungibona you were digging me Lol hhhe Uthi Ongumnini wena ungowami Ngiyamzonda lowathi love is a matter of chemistry Phela manje wena you treat me like toxic waste Wena ngikufanisa neRadio edlala imicibilisho, ungizwisile ubuhlungu! Wazenza iskhothane ngami washiya inhliziyo yami idabukile I miss you, angisakwazi muntu usebona ngamakhasi nje ukuthi usaPeeler Ukube bengazi ukuthi wena ungizela nge earth quake kuloluthando uzo zama zama, bengeke ngiqale! Ngicela inhliziyo yami niyinqume izandla, kuze izoyeka ukuthanda lomuntu! Aibo bafena lomuntu iphilisi! Somebody take me to a doctor I've overdosed! Ngane YeLanga, ukukbona nje could brighten my day Shuthi uthando lwethu beluyiGenerations, sekuphele iytori Aibo Yewena Month end yami engiholela ekufeni Ngisakuthanda namanjer
0
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 8:48 PM UTC
Aibo Yewena
Aibo Yewena! Phela ngisakuthanda Ngikucabanga ngize ngibone ikhanda lam' selinezandla, Ngibone ikhanda lam' seliyi CEO, Mengcabanga wena Ikhanda lam' liba uPrincipal, Liyangiphatha. Ngizwa bethi uthatha ama applications. Ngiyakucela phela love le CAO engifakile ayibe successful. Angifune reject phela le Degree yoThando lwakho ngyayfuna Noma ngasayenzanga icourse yokuba istraight I right neye side chick, sengiyo modifyer next year. Uyi status seFeleb yini? Coz I like You! Kuthi angifanise inhliziyo yami ne DVD wena uyi player, wa pressa u open wayifaka I CD wathi close isadlala kamnandi wapressa u eject! Aibo kanti unjani player? Aibo Yewena! Aibo Yewena uthi awungilahlekelanga njer? Ngoba namanje inhliziyo yami isakufuna Aibo my top deck! Namanje ngisakuhalela, kodeke ngizokuphonela just ukbingelela noma ngikuhayele. Aibo Yewena! Ngisalifuna namanje leliya fosholo, phela wena usaqala ukungibona you were digging me Lol hhhe Uthi Ongumnini wena ungowami Ngiyamzonda lowathi love is a matter of chemistry Phela manje wena you treat me like toxic waste Wena ngikufanisa neRadio edlala imicibilisho, ungizwisile ubuhlungu! Wazenza iskhothane ngami washiya inhliziyo yami idabukile I miss you, angisakwazi muntu usebona ngamakhasi nje ukuthi usaPeeler Ukube bengazi ukuthi wena ungizela nge earth quake kuloluthando uzo zama zama, bengeke ngiqale! Ngicela inhliziyo yami niyinqume izandla, kuze izoyeka ukuthanda lomuntu! Aibo bafena lomuntu iphilisi! Somebody take me to a doctor I've overdosed! Ngane YeLanga, ukukbona nje could brighten my day Shuthi uthando lwethu beluyiGenerations, sekuphele iytori Aibo Yewena Month end yami engiholela ekufeni Ngisakuthanda namanjer
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52
Whilst walking down the street I heard a thunderous tweet; 'Twas a straining little bird Who couldn't pass a **** The little thing was constipated, Its **** wide dilated; Tweeting loudly in mid-bog, Trying to eject a log. I observed with sympathetic heart As it trumpeted out a **** Straining, chirping loud and long, Letting off a foul and noisome pong. I watched for nigh an hour Its display of **** power; Then a final intestinal pump Produced a huge great steaming lump: A mighty ball of faeces (a giant of its species, and total bumhole splitter which shattered its feathered *******
0
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 4:44 PM UTC
The Bird & the ****
What is it that you're thinking tell me what you ponder while you watch me doubled over. As you watch me doubled over heaving bile and spit and breakfasts meal. Does it disgust you when I choke and cough eject half digested ----not even fully digested---- nutrition from my acid scarred throat? Or do you just stand there feeling nothing.
0
Oct 7, 2010
Oct 7, 2010 at 5:41 PM UTC
scarred
Apathy Don’t tell me how to feel, when I feel like this; Don’t tell me that you’re happy, when I’m so depressed. Don’t sit there with your girlfriend, giving her a kiss; Because I just don’t care, about your life of bliss. I do not care for your sympathy, Because I live in a town called Apathy. The town of no-hopers and the town I’m in; The ****** little town called Apathy. So don’t sit there with a smile upon your face. Don’t dare utter those words: ‘The world is such an amazing place.’ Because I live in the rain and I feel like **** The sun never shines down on Apathy. So I do not care for your sympathy, Because I live in a town called Apathy. The town of no-hopers and the town I’m in; The ****** little town called Apathy. If you feel the same as me; Or you live in a town like Apathy. A town of losers; a town of **** Then come with me down to Apathy. Let’s take it over and change a few things. Let’s welcome only rockers and eject all the trendies. Let’s all sit down and smoke a spliff. Let’s drink tequila and rock a few riffs. I do not care for your sympathy, Because I live in a town, called Apathy. The town of no-hopers and the town I’m in; The ****** little town called Apathy… Yeah, I live in a town called Apathy, And it has become like home to me, For I never want to live outside Apathy, Because I only care about, the cool people and me. (C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
0
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
Apathy
i smoke cigarettees too **** much. this is how you know nothing original will be said in this poem. i use cigarettes as a social crutch. i don't know about you but when i'm in the mood to be honest i'll tell you i smoke cigarettes because i want to be 'cool'. because let's be honest: i can't think of a poet a musician an actor an olympic swimmer a hockey player a president a priest a **** a serial killer or a psychiatrist that's worth mentioning that did not smoke yes, i know you can and go ahead, but let me first make a point instead let me be honest, if i can smoke a cigarette and maybe be alone for 5.75 minutes then maybe a thought will occur to me something outside this ******** world and it will be good enough to write down, just maybe. let me be honest i don't need you with your judgemental eyes and your cursory glances walk away from me at a party i don't miss you i am with her. i garauntee if you asked Whitman Hemmingway Freud Phelps Obama about their actual relationship with smoking tobacco they would have similiar descriptions. but go ahead, tell me about the hazardous effects of cigarettes let's talk about the cancer and the tar and the disgusting phlem that i will constantly have to eject from my throat-hole when i'm fifty. go ahead, tell me about ******* people over and ripping their minds out and the sickness and the disease and how it's all so wrong. it's as amusing to me as it is to you. Mcdonald's will **** you. Pall Mall will **** me.
0
Nov 5, 2011
Nov 5, 2011 at 12:34 AM UTC
cigarettes
I seen a empty bottle in the trash. There was also napkins next to the trash. I wondered how many people use these napkins.. It's stated recycle. Recycle what ? Trees? Regurgitated garbage we eat over and over again ? How do we still have a mountain of trash. Plato and Socrates knew something. Perhaps eject it to space. Maybe we can **** our ozone if we just burn it. Cause earth swallows anything including pasts and futures. Who's in control of Earth's health. Cause we **** on it. And that bottle... Of course is full of **** and vinegar. Release all tension and let's rise to the stratosphere. Floating cities above Earth's gravity.. no pulling of our new system down.  Elisium on the moon. Perhaps a ride in a roller coaster to the darkside will thrill you more. Maybe it's not as cold and chilling as we thought.. and Earth's warmth and feelings will make a change like a landmass arise or one to fall.. I've fell many times. Now I've married the other half of my mind. People climbing out of oceans asking about ships.. but my dreamscape makes me the hero in my pirate flag informaniac boom. Cannons and truth. My voice in thought and control of the room. I blow horns like harps of trains and riots of mind boggling facts. I am and Lord knows Jesus will help me like a snub nose I tuck. I'll play gangster while my inner ghost fires the bullets.. I'm not violent as what sin runs in his blood. I'm just everything else and it's time I leave after passing and giving peace to my son. His family is mine and we deserve heaven.. same as 144 thousand.. all for order of the Bright Apollo flights and fry minds in a hystaria historical society of terror. Longer days hotter with white out snow. Raining tears and explicit when our children explore. Yes I ********** .. it's better then the alternative.. making more humans live... rebirth and love now Is in a different narrative.
0
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 4:24 AM UTC
Cleanliness
I seen a empty bottle in the trash. There was also napkins next to the trash. I wondered how many people use these napkins.. It's stated recycle. Recycle what ? Trees? Regurgitated garbage we eat over and over again ? How do we still have a mountain of trash. Plato and Socrates knew something. Perhaps eject it to space. Maybe we can **** our ozone if we just burn it. Cause earth swallows anything including pasts and futures. Who's in control of Earth's health. Cause we **** on it. And that bottle... Of course is full of **** and vinegar. Release all tension and let's rise to the stratosphere. Floating cities above Earth's gravity.. no pulling of our new system down.  Elisium on the moon. Perhaps a ride in a roller coaster to the darkside will thrill you more. Maybe it's not as cold and chilling as we thought.. and Earth's warmth and feelings will make a change like a landmass arise or one to fall.. I've fell many times. Now I've married the other half of my mind. People climbing out of oceans asking about ships.. but my dreamscape makes me the hero in my pirate flag informaniac boom. Cannons and truth. My voice in thought and control of the room. I blow horns like harps of trains and riots of mind boggling facts. I am and Lord knows Jesus will help me like a snub nose I tuck. I'll play gangster while my inner ghost fires the bullets.. I'm not violent as what sin runs in his blood. I'm just everything else and it's time I leave after passing and giving peace to my son. His family is mine and we deserve heaven.. same as 144 thousand.. all for order of the Bright Apollo flights and fry minds in a hystaria historical society of terror. Longer days hotter with white out snow. Raining tears and explicit when our children explore. Yes I ********** .. it's better then the alternative.. making more humans live... rebirth and love now Is in a different narrative.
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9
Intensity for you wavers not Your lips pure ******* Love stronger than the drugs Coursing through my shallow veins I am searching for a way to repair That will stop gnawing emptiness I swear there's no fairness in this world I am waiting, I only see less and less Contentment is clearly decreasing Do not know where it keeps on running to Am tracking with the tools I have Navigation here is hard to do Thoughts and devoted feelings intersect Wish my mind was a blank slate Yearn to eject unsavory parts Pull out of this unhealthy state I will be addicted to you for life Inhale the smoke that makes up who you are Sweet smell of nostalgia and lost intimacy I face the pain of another scar Terrible remains will be all that is left Part of me forever gone and departed Human weakness flows through my blood You are a drug I wish I had never started
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Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 8:48 AM UTC
******* Lips
I’m trying harder than I ever have before here, today, now to **** you in all at once, and then eject you from my chest with the force of eleven crumbling mountains. I don’t want to know you anymore and I want to forget how you stammer when you’re excited and have a closet full of comic books, but you have a whole bedroom filled with cracked skeletons, as if skeletons weren’t broken enough already. Today, here, now is the last time I will wash you out of my hair, and use your first name in poems, it’s the last time I’ll let my heart palpitate when you mention her name. Today, here, now is the last time I’ll breathe you out, slowly but I promise you, today, and I swear to God, it may take eleven shots of ***** chased with *** but today, I will inhale and exhale you for the last time.
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Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 7:44 PM UTC
your name is foxglove and mine is angelica
From your straight hair to the outfits you wear, that black leather shoe pair, even the "no makeup" makeup flair. Everything about you seems perfect, I swear! Your sweet fine face and my feelings resurrect, supercilious smile with power that anyone may deflect even the cute pimple on your face that eject, moreover the positive vibes you reflect. **** everything about you seems perfect. The way you smile, eyes almost closed, hiding teeth quarter mile, my heart skips beats for a while, the way you tie up your hair in that quirky style, your eccentric figure and that side profile, orotund low voice gonna put me on trial. Upbeat personality and attitude you project, Girl everything about you seems just Perfect!
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Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 7:20 AM UTC
Perfect Girl!
my propensity to manifest demons into people consistently projecting the tragedies of my own imagination into other people my desire to eject leaves me like the cockroaches hungry and filthy but i didn’t make me right? theres nothing in me that wants it why can’t i starve the deep hate eat the world’s abundance decadent and I, undeserving i’m tired of not feeling something only feeling nothing drive my skin against the walls that i built up just to long for them to fall but it’s not me no accountability ready it’s you and me i need purity to know you want me not just me in you you make me feel nothing close of void sleep with me just me i promise i don’t see
0
Feb 7, 2021
Feb 7, 2021 at 10:15 PM UTC
loser!!
I awakened to the humans discussing their evil plans French fries, sweet potato, baked potato, I WOULD SHOW THEM… THE POWER OF POTATOES I said my goodbyes to my mother, as she lay lifeless on the plate I can fly, I can fly, I can fly spread my wings, and FLY LIKE A UNICORN I fell face down on the kitchen ground. EJECT THE HIPPO those were the words I heard last from my humans A hippo fell flat onto me Its dark now.. I feel like mash potatoes my wings are soar my invisible wings are soar the hippo whispered to me you’re gonna go far kid I was about to smile then I realised that he just gave me a song suggestion dang it what could a potato do? I flew up to the human’s room I flew around her room the last words I heard.. were… A POTATO FLEW AROUND MY ROOM BEFORE YOU CAME then, I flew into a wall, my ending bitter sweet, but my wish had come true
0
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
THE LIFE OF A POTATO
So far down and too far gone. Higher than life on Drunken stupidity, Hallucination versus Reality. Just one more drag, choke down another swig. Borderline absent yet in full control, only wanted a Midnight stroll. One I Regretfully Took... No turning back, Unable to hit eject, heading full-speed down a Disaster course; YOU having no feeling of Remorse. Denying MY lack of restraint, unable to stop the Inevitable. Smooth talker from the start' unable to protect MY heart. Where was my brain? Curiosity got the best of YOU, YOU took the best part of ME. Force-Filled and Painful, Never been more Fearful. Took without will, never to return again. Left alone to Awake, and feel the Heart Break. Where the hell am I? Driving home in a daze. Unable to comprehend. Washing away YOUR swear for an hour; letting MY humility devour. Broken never to be fixed, Five therapist deep; trying not to fade away, but now I can finally say... **YOU ***** ME**
0
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
Intoxicated Virginity
Take me back to Chelsea please Where the flossed and glossed smile at me And everyone’s kind to an open mind That’s materialistic in design. Where locals embrace me all open armed Whenever I’m crinkling cash in my palms. So eject me fast from this boorish ****** And take me back to Chelsea please. Take me back to Chelsea please Outside the city’s financial squeeze Where mummy and daddy pay the cheques For my escargots and Ready Brek. I’ll wield through the system with the family name And use all the power of my local fame. Oh, to live life without la joie de fees Come take me back to Chelsea please. Take me back to Chelsea please To put my social norms at ease. I miss my measly excuse of friends Who constantly ***** to make amends For their failed entrepreneurial careers Their dialect a hodgepodge of gobbles and sneers. I long for their monotonous wheeze So take me back to Chelsea please. Chelsea, Chelsea you’re all I adore From the A308 to the A304. You’re the sole nirvana I can’t bear to depart, Your femmes fatales know the paths to my heart. But you will always have the its lock and key So Chelsea: come and take me back please.
0
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 5:47 PM UTC
Take me back to Chelsea
I'd grab a knife and let it tear through my flesh to rip out this inner strife if it wouldn't lead to my death. My soul shivers he beats on his chest in fact that's why I breathe on this ****** to try and relax. My mind is stretched to the max my head needs to detach, my soul needs to eject. Hotheaded armed with an icepick. Hacking away at this ice that my spine grips. My thoughts are confined in a space as small as my iris and I'm behind iron bars of anxiety that I constantly have to fight with. I've become a mass murderer, locked in a psychiatric ward as I **** my parts within, erasing my kin, the ink from the teardrops darkens my skin. Fallen to sin. My world in the dark. A void shaped like a heart. Yet this Tinman retaliates against the wizard of Oz! My torch an everburning question mark answers? That's the past but Life throwing hooks so I HAVE to dodge. Hits exit Pause-my-world which I create so I can spit back in the face of God! You awoke a sleeping giant, a savage beast, a lion My soul roars everytime you see me sighin I won't ignore these tidings A frozen force is rising Close to war my broken core redefines defiance. So I will stand my ground and fight go bar for bar with life. Proudly wear these battlescars you'll be astounded by my might A star upon my sky My reach is long and wide You see I'm strong you're weak and wrong I no longer hide Because I don't have a mind I am guided by the light my sight set on my rage replace my blood with hate bleed and rust and easily crush this tyrant in my cage.
0
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
A Fight against Strife.
I'd grab a knife and let it tear through my flesh to rip out this inner strife if it wouldn't lead to my death. My soul shivers he beats on his chest in fact that's why I breathe on this ****** to try and relax. My mind is stretched to the max my head needs to detach, my soul needs to eject. Hotheaded armed with an icepick. Hacking away at this ice that my spine grips. My thoughts are confined in a space as small as my iris and I'm behind iron bars of anxiety that I constantly have to fight with. I've become a mass murderer, locked in a psychiatric ward as I **** my parts within, erasing my kin, the ink from the teardrops darkens my skin. Fallen to sin. My world in the dark. A void shaped like a heart. Yet this Tinman retaliates against the wizard of Oz! My torch an everburning question mark answers? That's the past but Life throwing hooks so I HAVE to dodge. Hits exit Pause-my-world which I create so I can spit back in the face of God! You awoke a sleeping giant, a savage beast, a lion My soul roars everytime you see me sighin I won't ignore these tidings A frozen force is rising Close to war my broken core redefines defiance. So I will stand my ground and fight go bar for bar with life. Proudly wear these battlescars you'll be astounded by my might A star upon my sky My reach is long and wide You see I'm strong you're weak and wrong I no longer hide Because I don't have a mind I am guided by the light my sight set on my rage replace my blood with hate bleed and rust and easily crush this tyrant in my cage.
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34
Herr Stimmung—purblind—moves in corporeal time. Think how many, by now, have escape the world's memory. Think, how all his wandering is only thought. Having once tried to live in the quasi-stupor of sensation, now he picks his way through areas of spilth, seeking the least among infinite evils. His hope: intermittent. To a person so little conscious, what would it mean to die? Though he feels, true enough, death's wither-clench. Thinking always of something permanent, watching the while how everything goes on changing. He has seen where Speed is buried. Eyes exorbitant. He has the tension of male and female: active, divided. Anger and lust. What he eats tastes exactly like real food. He would search out interphenomena, if he could decipher the interstices. The broken line. Immediate havoc. Circular heaven. Square earth. He cries world world, and there is no world. He claims superiority over the other animals, being the only one who can talk, the only one to have doubts. Herr Stimmung knows a whale is big. Its skeleton might shelter a dozen men. Not existing, not subsisting—insisting. Not object, not subject— eject. (He works within opposed systems, every one of them opposed to system.) "Fillette"—in confusion he addresses himself—"n'allez pas au bois seulette." He knows who is allowed to wear what kinds of beads. He knows how fruit trees are inherited. All his self-objects lie in the inoperative past. Herr Stimmung springs from a long undocumented ancestry. He has a special attitude towards terror.
0
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 12:25 AM UTC
Tuning (by Keith Waldrop)
Herr Stimmung—purblind—moves in corporeal time. Think how many, by now, have escape the world's memory. Think, how all his wandering is only thought. Having once tried to live in the quasi-stupor of sensation, now he picks his way through areas of spilth, seeking the least among infinite evils. His hope: intermittent. To a person so little conscious, what would it mean to die? Though he feels, true enough, death's wither-clench. Thinking always of something permanent, watching the while how everything goes on changing. He has seen where Speed is buried. Eyes exorbitant. He has the tension of male and female: active, divided. Anger and lust. What he eats tastes exactly like real food. He would search out interphenomena, if he could decipher the interstices. The broken line. Immediate havoc. Circular heaven. Square earth. He cries world world, and there is no world. He claims superiority over the other animals, being the only one who can talk, the only one to have doubts. Herr Stimmung knows a whale is big. Its skeleton might shelter a dozen men. Not existing, not subsisting—insisting. Not object, not subject— eject. (He works within opposed systems, every one of them opposed to system.) "Fillette"—in confusion he addresses himself—"n'allez pas au bois seulette." He knows who is allowed to wear what kinds of beads. He knows how fruit trees are inherited. All his self-objects lie in the inoperative past. Herr Stimmung springs from a long undocumented ancestry. He has a special attitude towards terror.
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30
Transcend from society, eject into space look in the mirror and you wont see you face eject from reality into the great green plains in the woods, is their a god? in the woods, you don't think hard oh sweet mother nature, transcend me from space O' sweet, let me see your face for the time has come, to float all above past fake gods, past the cosmos into to nothing where non- existence takes place then you will never see your face
0
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 10:12 AM UTC
The naturalist
Play overdoing overworking overthinking overeating overdrinking Pause the leftovers of me always lying over here over there Eject my seat overseas Game over.
0
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC
Play, Pause, Eject
Spider Walking into a corridor of neatly aligned cobwebs, that have your history strewn across, like telephone wires intertwining and intersecting, Making all the conversations and voices interweave, crossing paths - causing a disruption in the line, the static disturbances echoing through the dark corridor embellished with these cobwebs that have been lost in your mind. The cobwebs speak like conversations from broken telephone poles that are overlapping and confusing the mind, muddled and disarrayed, lacking any sense. time has consumed these thoughts, leaving bits and pieces, that only mislead you You swing across paving new paths with silken threads, crisp and new, like adhesive, glistening with prosperity. Yet you keep these deep rooted cobwebbed memories locked in your mind, like Pandora’s box ready to unravel. So just let them retire, they have fallen and become undone, and now they just collect dust from your memories Reminding you of thoughts, that are specked and flecked with dusty recollections. Those worn out thoughts can no longer collect, they only eject, tangled stories confusing you and bemusing you So don’t collect your abandoned webs, like a memory book - they are no longer relevant, they were just webs you wove to learn how to weave the web you now conceive, strong and secure, fully capable to endure.
0
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 3:21 PM UTC
Spider
He read me my precautions Only removing my own decay In return his novocaine  Don't you worry about nerve endings, They'll splinter up eject themselves away In time you'll teach yourself to capsulate the pain, Just sign your essence away, I'll give you more novocaine. "Sometimes it's better not to feel"
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Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
Coffee and novocaine
Tufted ethereality, angelism of stock and store pedestrian...alas, circusy. Helm of streets bob...our supplicant pulls out a mile or two of scripture from an enormous pocket. Fingers ink-blotted with grime, bent forth striding-- a heedless Beethoven tuned in immaculately. Array's arrival stunned with scurry...planets of conveyance pull at their elliptical wiring. Some rare gigantism to the tenth of powers has touched everything...all he could do from going where he's arrived is futile. From time immemorial, he...at present, its full possessor! What convoluted theorem of probability will forcibly eject him from eureka...from where he's vaporized his wears...naught...naught! Some precipice's nudge knew best the wind for his thought to take to, a majestic soar pealing the spheres to show them their shape. Life has exemplified its frugal capacity to him-- simmering creation tucked away for one fine day. He, to outlive the closing energy that dances him, an immortal...to be handled with care...with universal intelligence--be, has let him...loosed. He's broken the code of things in and of themselves... he's a thing in and of himself--the Unitative factor erupts. As the credits of glory pull upward...so he as them.
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Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
Elliptical Wiring
come wash your sin with me, i am a flightless soul covered in gossamer i am love in the form of locks you cannot unchain with bared teeth and bare skin and the blade of the twisted dagger strapped against your thigh i adore your spirit but i do not adore you. i am a capricious madness drink me to excess if you so wish me to be—a cold chestful of chemical smoke a sink full of the remnants of an unborn child, eject me i am unwanted, i am a wanted hallelujah with a swollen-gum smile in every lithographed dead or alive poster, please save me please buy black water lilies for my funeral the priest won’t attend please let the worms make homes out of my gaping throat, and i shall whisper unto you. one last time. it will be done unto your will without wisdom i am corruption in the form of conscience i am the riptide washing away your firstborn son with the taste of ****** verona.
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Jan 23, 2022
Jan 23, 2022 at 5:01 PM UTC
violent delights have violent ends