"extruding" poems
Black eyes, bruised wrists, mangled genitals.
Ribcage extruding; calling for love, lust, and cigarettes
Faces offensive; unmet eyes, and searing expressions.
Scars on arms; speaking louder than quiet voices
Staring blank; at bills yet paid
Thinking there is no way
Imaging the fall from your 3rd floor
Apartment
Weighing funeral costs over living expenses
Death would put you deeper in a hole
Not able to get out, saying how
Did I get here.
Looking up seeing the opening nearly
Closed; finger lye at the only opening left.
Hope.
Being crushed brutally, whilst you see it all
happen.
Blood rains on your pale face, craving
Sunlight.
Dismemberment of fingers, brings you into total darkness.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 12:03 AM UTC
Just when we thought
this place couldn't get
any
more
depressing,
a detriment of inadequacy ensues,
and the following hour is spent
beneath a paled,
frosted-blue canvas,
atop a frigid construct
of tether, and steel.
BUT!
As quickly as the dystrophy settled
within minds scarcely caressed
by hallowed slumber,
a frail,
yet,
intensifying light
erupts from the faded line
that separates reality
from ethereality.
As this newly self-empowered
hero of the day
ceases the boundless tundra overhead
with a golden fluorescence
of warmth,
and rapture,
still,
ever-trifling is the southern counterpart.
HARK!
From out of the myriad sheets
of thundercloud gray,
laced with veins of majestic purple,
and glazed with the ensemble
of over-ripened peaches
that blanket the northern skies
of this dawning day
spawns a duet of our mothers'
most
sacred
creation.
HOW MAGNIFICENT!
This spectrum couplet
that champions the veil,
extruding their way out
from the darkest,
most steadfast regions
of our Terran celestial.
Betwixt these valours,
who stand
as beacons of glory
in these most
disparaging of times,
dance a flock
of little
black and white birds,
unveiling to our starving eyes,
ever so eager to feast-
their autumn courtship that,
in its own wonderment,
was that of a
silent
symphony.
LO!
For many a fort night,
we have gazed upon naught
but soot-black sand,
sun-bleached dirt,
and endless foliage,
who's lives have been bled dry
long before even our first wave achieved
boots on ground.
And even as the sun rose higher,
relieving the quietus night
to nothing
but a faded memoir,
so, too,
these masters of vibrancy
shall fade.
BUT!
Even in their last moments of glory,
they triumphed as heralds,
mutely evoking a message
that said:
*'Even at our final breaths,
we shall stand as strong as we did
when She first employed us
into Her heavens.
And until we are completely vanquished,
never; never shall we falter.'*
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 10:26 PM UTC
Her face trapped behind a shiny glass
Ethereal traces of humanity evaporates into gray
Smoke curls about
Resembling satin ribbons laced with ash
It all seems like
Another world parallel to mine
Surreal
Going through the motions
She paces about from point a to point b
Hair feathers across her forehead
So eyes can hide secrets behind
Comforting curtains
Her only sense of security
Obscuring the view
Drained of color
Whitewashed orbs
Stripped of emotion
Of passion
They mechanically follow you
Fixed on something you can’t
Quite make out
Blank
Unfocused
They pull you in
Her delicate fingers curl
And you can see veins
Extruding
And flex
In and
Back
Out again
Time slows
Decreases to a halt
And the smoke continues to grow
Filling up every last corner
Breathing becomes labored
She presses against the glass
Dreamlike
Drawing smooth fingertips across
A thin layer of condensed vapor
Covering coating the glass
Her mouth screams out
But silence blankets
Deafening
You can’t quite hear what she has to say
Because of this boundary
That supposedly divides
Separating your reality from
What she once knew
What she thought she will always know
The glass
It’s not solid
But liquid moving molasses
Ever so slowly
Right before your eyes
Clean air gets claimed by the grasp
Of smoke
And the choking
Begins
The glass is actually
Quite fragile
In nature
Waiting to be questioned
Tested
By those brave enough
To look past
Beyond glass walls
And venture into the abyss
But it can’t be moved
Flexed or bent
Towards your point of view
Or hers
Because
You finally found the key
That unlocks doors
That could not be opened
You’re finally beginning to discover
How close you are to the outcome
Yet further than you’ve ever dreamed
And everything tangible slips into the ether
What you think you see
It’s not really there
And neither is
The girl
The glass suddenly disappears
Along with the girl
Who turned off the lights?
Blackness takes over
And it’s all just a dream
They are just figments of your
Imagination
Just mirrors
Reflecting lightness
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
Seconds drag like years. Stuck in a silent mist.
My mind like a “For Sale” sign, tethered
Constrained. An occasional sway in a breeze,
Resulting in an unoccupied state of mind.
An unbearable feeling of uselessness
Stemming from a grimy background
From which no answers can be elicited
The Blackboard has been erased forever
Locked doors and high walls mean,
Therapy is only good for the Therapist!
That; that was once ingrained, is lost
Danger lies ahead, lurking in the shadows
Waiting for the right moment to strike.
A silent killer.
This; that gnaws at my brain, is without
Doubt, slowly killing me. Extruding life.
My head hurts. My soul is broken.
I have forgotten how to laugh
I have forgotten how to whistle
I don’t want this death!
Nov 4, 2011
Nov 4, 2011 at 7:52 AM UTC
Smalt sky smelted over running sky: swoop
down for me and switch (very lightly!) your blues.
(No dizzying aches, please, because of too much
hurled change, speeding spirant through my loops.
It would tunnel me, with its head, even more
abhorrently
in two.)
Okay, I’m—great!—upside down now, float splashing
with finned wings in cloud falls and snowy rapids!
Up above, before now I guess, was just a bedlam
like below, and below: just reflection of its head spun.
The running was glinting, mirrored tails shimmering
of wind fish. Believing them, I fed them, then laughed
under wet sun.
I am lying, truthfully. I am inside my house. There was
no sky or sea. Maybe somewhere, but not here. I think
of my love when I sit down. (I don’t really think
much anymore.) And the blues is a saying.
The dizzying aches I do have (It was a joke.)
and the hurled change I am is inside me making
me this.
My loops, me tunneled—that is no joke, that’s the
timelessly wrought result of extruding what hurts
from my sockets and chambers and lobes and pockets
and the given gifts to me I hated, never used, only
wished I could—I can’t—because I can never
pin me down. So they can’t be really
for me.
I am furiously disappearing in obfuscating, invisible,
paralyzed paradoxical paroxysms.
Such as: I am not here I am just here. Lying down
sometime. Today I think. On my bed. Napped or slept
or just wrapped. Barely awoken. And more gone.
Each day awake. Going.
More gone.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 6:14 PM UTC
Golden lochs gently kiss her shoulders
in a mass of beautifully divine color
a peaceful solitude floats above her
smiles wide bringing her to that special place...
The most beautiful translucent blue eyes
piercing, tranquil, like ice on fire
blessed she be...gorgeous
look into her eyes deeply...
Appears the hint of deviousness
devotion, delicate, empowering
Heart to give she strives to live
devoid of that dream state happiness...
I once got lost in those beautiful eyes
taken in like a hellfire vortex
liquid blue mystery, sapphire times two
extruding sweetness and bleeding hope...
Live,love, laugh wrapped into one
I've seen her in action.leading the fun
does she exist in more than my mind
certainly this Goddess is more than a dream
For now you all know her name....is Christine...
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
The collector went on a self-centered journey today,
Absorbing and extruding all the facts thrown around him,
Baffled by enigma and spiraling decay,
This was a plot building up to unsure moments for him
Tragedies and lost souls in between;
Meeting individuals with chemistry and knowing that acquaintance will be brief,
Studying a bookmark and knowing they marked his life in between;
Wishing they didn't have to go when things were starting to look up with relief
Chance encounters might not be his cup of tea,
He carried Destiny's heavy book, heavier was his sigh,
External pleasantries might be exchanged with the world,
Inside though, a storm brewed with a build-up on perplexing questions
Questions, neither priest nor shaman can answer him,
Questions, neither the dearly loved can answer nor can the dearly departed hear,
Answers, he makes for himself and strings them like a thick rope,
Answers, the rope will tighten its bind on him
He might find some in this lifetime;or never,
Sometimes, the journey to find the things that bewilder him,
Is much more rewarding than finding the answers themselves,
He reminded himself and went to sleep,
He had many more journeys to collect and bookmark.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 11:13 AM UTC
Sublime how in a dream, I can let
that which when awake is painful and bizarre
be in my dream, so painlessly,
not thinking why at all.
My hope is simply once I’ll let
that which when asleep seems clearer in a fog
seep back to me, somehow near,
in life that’s strayed afar.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 7:25 PM UTC
You tease me softly as not to please
my mind it melts from extruding ******
A torture chamber in my brain
your words to me leave ***** stain
From your mind I can't abstain
my darkened soul has yet to Drain
A dismal fate that love ignores
impossible grace, from ***** chores
The one you seek is spoken for
she points a finger, theirs the door
You return in the dead of night
you know you shouldn't, your mind you fight
Broken vows are not a choice
you refrain from evil voice
You slip back into your deep dark past
stepping over your heart, it's beat it's last...
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 1:38 AM UTC
In what world should a mind be defined
by the parameters of others perceptions?
Limiting ones self by fear of abrasion from the populations conceptions.
Never setting true goals, only those that seem to fit into the faded puzzle.
Instead of extruding shapes that can't be confined.
I see wonderful beings, dazed, and imprisoned by bottling themselves, and their ideals because of anothers view.. of point of view,
And common sense.
A common consensus,
about what should effect us.
What to project.
And see.
Where others see fragile attempts,
I see unstructured trials.
Where others see inevitable failure,
I see limitless possibilities.
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 1:55 AM UTC
Color of the view, only seen by a few.
Music a shard, of though proclaim the clear color is not mask.
That you maybe drank from a flask.
And now, what is the new task.
Hand's play tango, on a white red line bingo.
I think, I've won the oval's turn in bravo's
I leave my head, high not touching the "tallest of trees" for birds have nasty old flea's.
All, the structures are extruding color that the "Sun is baking it a Cake" in black sea.
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 12:30 AM UTC
nestled comfortably amongst the murk of my blanket (statements)
she’s slowly extruding lies and melting into
myself (assessment)
dripping, as it trickles down
oozing from your swollen
leaky *******
squelching the flames of my
passion (project)
desires left smoldering as i sup
upon the thick
and pitiless black smoke pouring
from somewhere inside
feeling ashamed of how
i must look this does
not relent
the maelstrom of
aspersions cast by my
tongue (bath)
on all that pass here without a second glance
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 3:43 AM UTC
The beast is hungry
With an unrelenting appetite
Consuming without satisfaction
This glutenous swine gnashes and gnaws
Leaves no morsels
Only memories
Snatching the very youth from your face
And the minds from those who gave you yours
Extruding your very essence whilst you slumber
Feeds on good times
And takes exquisite pleasure
In dragging out moments of suffering
Yet this beast is desired by all
Pursued without hesitation
Those with wealth and power may never obtain
Those who need it never posses
Those who posses may not use
And in the end, leaves you, alone in a void
Nothing but a fleeting thought
In those who are still being devoured alive
-R
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 3:14 PM UTC
we were young
we had little time, boy
meeting through windows
showing me your new toy
I thought it was cool
did I tell you that?
I told you to come over
after the sun sets
you knocked on my door
fireworks filled the bag you held
we snuck to the rooftop
we sparked up the sky
I knew I loved you then
I wish I told you that
every week we go see the animals
you tell me facts I have heard before
you grab my hand to get snacks
and we walk until our feet get sore
I remember hanging out in your room
colorful was your floor extruding gloom
we were playing and sipping juice
the taste of it in my mouth froze
we had so many memories
I’m not sure if you still remember me
I would never trade anything we had
I wish you were here to tell you that
May 31, 2021
May 31, 2021 at 11:37 PM UTC