"frictionless" poems
Feathers glimmer and shine
As though covered in fish oil
I lubricate the brain
As I slip through the sky
With a frictionless flicker
My lightening wings
Brain waves rapidly fluctuate
Perfect balance held
Between left and right
Each wing a hemisphere
As they beat and beat
Accelerating into hyper speed
80 to a hundred or more
Beats per second
As though injected
With a sonic speed
Synapses bursting and exploding
Exponentially connecting
Blistering wing speed
I become electric
My circuits exploring
Rippling and flickering through paper
My brain comes alive
Flashing multicolored lights
Like the cities nights
But still spaces collect around me
As I am buffered from the world
Perfectly still though standing
On an invisible ledge
I hold my mind in place
While I hum in space
Head down I drop my beak
Into a funnel of concentration
As I tunnel into trumpets
Penetrating deep I flower
In new knowledge
Polar aspects of mind
Released through coherent communication
Set free with coordination
I seek to marry chalk and cheese
As I hold the balance
Between two worlds
Flashing synapses firing
And combusting
Against pointed concentration
My mind juggles two *****
Expanding into their fullness
Expressing vibrant color
My slippery slender beak
Slips and slides in
As I flutter through pages
I discover new unexpected surprises
Problems solved, Startling adventures
And puzzles completed
I find the sugary syrup
The delicate delicious sweet spot
With the thrill of falling domino's
Spilling and cascading
Many ripples fanning out
Through my mind
I find freedom
Each ripple massaging my mind
I am catapulted into outer space
I dance from fact to golden fact
As I am propelled forward on stardust
My momentum shoots me forward
I bounce and bounce
My mind becoming unbounded
I enjoy this great Hummingbird delight
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
palace of lights caved
blooms through the body
like reality pitted against a comic book
not knowing where life came from
not knowing how it will end
food tubes or road ****
is creation substance-less?
24 carat nonsense,
or pure wisdom?
perhaps bad therapy
for lab animals
and store front dummies
monkeys shudder at needles
unless candied with a heroine syringe
chemistry a science of belligerence and euphoria
pleasure before despair
and than a sea of pain
and a ****
impaling her
the lushly contoured female
a frictionless exchange of power
for ******* ecstatic death
as her eyes bob and flutter
like cascading echo's
my birth tarot card
**** of swords
her favorite when I push through her
like blood bubble gum
b l o o d b u b b a b u b b le g u m
a **** cathedral of lights flicker spit
guttural diphthong
like a vipers castanets
uterine fire bursts like an appendix bomb
her **** a zoo
c u n t z o o
i am peanuts worms and hay
her face a mask to hide behind
breath play
sibilant ****
specter or nightmares
shadows and villains aphrodiac
gagged and drugged
hot ***** bound
a big eyed ****
s l u t l o v e
*** cannibals turn me on
her ****** a goddess
a Russian roulette
for shtttty kisses
sploosh
she shot me
cuckoo spit
k o cuck k o k o o
twizzles willie milk
in a drowning
moss draped moon orifice
under a shattered zodiac
wrapped in tentacles of night
she turns me on
Feb 9, 2019
Feb 9, 2019 at 1:44 PM UTC
We were told freedom would make us artists.
We were told freedom would set us free.
But freedom made us consumers—
scrolling, streaming, drowning in plenty.
Peak content.
Peak noise.
Attention—the last currency.
And we are broke.
Then came the machine.
Infinite. Bespoke. Frictionless.
The tribe dissolved.
The story fractured.
Each of us—
a society of one.
Do not mistake this for culture.
Culture bleeds.
Culture resists.
Culture divides.
This is mimicry.
This is slop.
Outliers cribbed, stripped,
and rebranded before the ink dries.
This is the singularity.
Not awakening.
Collapse.
Not tribe.
Not ritual.
The machine as tribe.
Self-satisfaction—tribe enough.
But listen—
creativity still breathes.
Not to be seen.
Not to trend.
But to testify.
To mark the ruins.
To scratch in the stone:
A human was here.
Do you remember?
Sep 20, 2025
Sep 20, 2025 at 5:12 AM UTC
Then took her by complete surprise;
Bursting forth into hysterics
I gazed into her glazed, mesmeric eyes
**My intention descending like nightmarish haze;
*Said **** that merit badge
Grandma ***** let the cat out the bag
I wanna play***
She's fixin for a lickin
And I'm dying to get a taste
That ***** glistening so listen
Preheat the oven don't need no glove
I've got an addiction
finna bore in
frictionless!
Instantly smitten,
Her face turned shades of crimson
when I finished with
"Lets play genital hide & seek -
You're it"
It's time to remit demented dementia baby
I'm not so easy to forget;
& I'm shots of splotchy red like syphilis
*Don't front like you won't give me the nookie
Girl urrbody had a crack at your world famous cookies
& I just can't keep my hand out the jar*
Tonight I'll wrestle a cougar with my bare hands
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 4:20 AM UTC
my eyes are heady **** bloating
from within the sun
white embellishment lasers out
lending provision
setting life to the organic cog and clock
provoking muted growth to retch a bloom
leading
spending
seeding
my tread destroys nothing
each step frictionless
patterning little hovering eddies
a fraction above ground
minimal is my disruption
enough only to promote a deeper observation
tender fanning of the life that i am fawning over
how to feel this spritely at all times ? t'would be a spell
a fondled thing
it’s from our night of shared tether
our infection threw out an extra pleasurable souvenir
it carried its energy into the ensuing day
i am launched affection
beckoned into the true employment of my surroundings
carrying my socks and shoes in one hand
and my heart? it is a possession of the senses
i am truly led
i am emitting
Nov 4, 2022
Nov 4, 2022 at 9:44 PM UTC
1: “could you not pick your nose in front of me?”
2: “I'm not picking, I'm scratching.”
And then, utter silence.
The hourly routine of the sitters.
Warm and clear or humid and foggy,
their day always manages to be bare and cold.
With their unpleasant sets of ashy, unwashed heels, broken through the years, the numbers untold.
Watching all that is theirs.
For a benchwarmer is a proprietor of anything that keeps abet, his deepest fears.
The greatest fear, failure, being the most aggressive,
jabs and hammers on his itchy, small, frictionless small back like an overturned adhesive.
For once upon a memory so distant ago that its credibility is askew,
Were men who had dreams and hopes, to awake to the feel of the morn’ dew.
Men who, have long since settled into their nichey existence.
Men who were once the go-to for persistent consistence.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 1:24 AM UTC
Arpita ,-The Only one .
There is one ,
Only one Arpita ,
With ten thousands synonyms ,
And two Nature’s amplitude ,
To cover sense of love ,and that of feeling ,
The widened unconquered ,
Ripples beyond the horizon ,
And the frictionless revere ,
Mingles with the waited time ,
Lo ! the colossal silence chambers the rime .
Hers is the eternal Divine in love ,
And she tinges the hearts ,
With the magic fragrance of frenzy ,
She impels ,she awakens the slumbering soul ,
There is only one Arpita , that arises and rolls !
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
i must settle with the
speed of sand as it
cascades onto the
heap, each particle
a memory shard
of late night chats
and broken absolute
promises, earthdrops of
silica falling frictionless without
complaint like the way we drifted apart,
the mound of regret a soft malleable thing able to
be shaken and reversed but never lessened, every
grain a lesson, a small piece of us lost among the mistakes.
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 4:43 AM UTC
Soft subtle touch
clutches from back to front
About face switched place
in role reversals
Airways are open
Feel a rawer version
of your person
Entrust this thoughtful lust
sought from top to bottom
Moving in sync as your
yearning burns
Deep frictionless sin
lived within bare skin
Born below the belly line
Sing as bells ring
Breathe in the aftermath
This beauty won't last
May 16, 2020
May 16, 2020 at 2:53 PM UTC
Loneliness is a frictionless erosion
A silent internal explosion
The walls crumble down
And even with crowds around
No one comes to check if you
Survived
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 10:50 AM UTC
I made my way through the door, through the garden, out onto the street, and into the universe, where I saw all of the marvels this life has to offer.
Walked on sunny beaches where the sea-breeze always blows, and in quiet meadows where carnations always grow.
Danced upon the milky glances of a waning moon, wrapped myself in the dawning sun’s embrace, watched the Earth until the quiet afternoon.
Laid for countless nights with girls I know I loved too much, and spent hours peering into mirrors, with reflections anxious fingers long to touch.
Sighed in places where joints were worn frictionless by years of bliss, and one soul found another in the press of a lover’s kiss.
Wept in lonely places where people walk with heavy feet; the saddest places where two loving hands may never meet.
Learned in places where the answer and the question were one and the same; where knowledge shines, and the deepest problem is but a game.
Whispered in the ear that first heard the songbird sing, and picked flowers in the grove where ground was first touched with spring.
Spent a millennium worth of carefree strolls in the places where the thunder rolls, and beheld the hand that carefully forks the lightning.
Saw things no other man has ever seen, all at once beautiful and frightening, where the bell of eternity tolls.
Painted in galleries where no beautiful thing is taboo, and where every sorrow is a burden shared by two.
And I returned.
Returned because I remembered you.
Aug 18, 2011
Aug 18, 2011 at 3:05 AM UTC
Breathless little pod, enclose me with your
Wooden floors. Let the rain outside play as
Pianoforte as it can. Enough
Thought to sink a ship and all I can say
Is “The horses. Oh my God, the horses.”
What about the horses? In a tasteless,
Odorless, frictionless universe sleeps
The hammer of the clouds who eats our hours
And flips to more interesting channels.
Take a minute for yourself, this is just
An experiment, and run up those stairs.
Be sure to stop when you hear the lightning
Then nip back down like thunder so you can
Tell me the result. Breathe in, count to ten.
Breathe out, breathe in and try to remember
The middle of “Rondo Alla Turca.”
Take your time, it won’t be nice outside for
A while. Enjoy the breathless little room.
Mar 16, 2010
Mar 16, 2010 at 9:33 AM UTC
He reads clouds in the sky,
sees wind's great works of art.
Bobbing gently through each wave,
While he floats and dreams in a lake,
secretly seaweed wraps around his body.
Foggy underwater waves make his mind,
body, and lungs set desperatley fighting
in a breathing brought war of water and air.
The boy is drowining, an idyllic dream
landscape lake turned into a nightmare.
Slowly as seaweed and currents bring
his body to the dark depths of the lakescape,
malice endrapes itself through
one ear and out of the other; fate.
The bubble blood life force of the boy from air,
turns slowly to liquid, and his ghost dissolves.
Coldness lingers and clawing weakly
through frictionless water,
lake bottom hits and frozen fingers.
This boy's brain beginningly starts
disentigrating as it processes
the trickle drip
flow and ebb of
lake currents that sound
and surround each thought.
He remembers each
whispering wave
telling him to get in,
with the sun beating down,
the enticement to drown.
And his mother's voice
yells to him from a
heavenly place,
but he knows his watery
tomb will become ear muffs
for his mother when the
depths
finally win:
will his life force to its bitter end.
Back on black lake mud,
and the sun framed in waves
in the glowing waters above.
And the tangled arms of seaweed
beckon those that leasure
on the surface.
Childhood faces and
feel good places
dissapear from his mind.
At the bottom of the lake,
this boy becomes himself,
with the world's first hinting
of trauma, he let his naivity die
in a dramatic show, body blows
and a new manifesticity to sit by.
With each inhale of water,
this kid's childhood dies.
And by the time he resurfaces,
he has lost what it means to be alive.
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 11:02 AM UTC
It took an apple to the head for Newton to realize he was being held down.
But me? No fallen fruit as knocked me to my senses.
Every word spoken seems to condense in between the rigid, chilled air between us and float off above my head looking for ears that will welcome them home.
Even on the most frictionless days nothing seems to pass by smoothly.
But darling, I guess there is more than just the laws of physics that leave our feat tied to the ground
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 3:56 PM UTC
Getting so lost again in my thoughts
Thought for a while I could find a way
Talk it out, sing it loud, nullify the pain
But the nerves are here, never to fade
Every time that I find myself awake
When I should be unaware
These thoughts keep me in chains
Talking past fringe friends I've never known
Regretting yet again the fact I've staked my claims all on my own
And I need to share
The half of me still self aware
All I want you to see
Is the part of me I'll never be
It all looks so ideal
Staring in a mirror
With a picture of you next to me
A pedestal for all to see
To keep me in a frame
Colored just a tad deranged
From laughing in the pain
Pretending I've been bleeding just the same
But I've got to say
I'm sad, but it is all a stage
A sliver screen, my own display
Bonds are forged out of a flame
And living has only found me cold
Frictionless and meaningless
Or so I've been told
Somehow, life finds me here, alone
But It won't be long now, and it won't matter so much
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 7:42 AM UTC
The aluminium folds
Under my able fingers
As I shape it to my
Will
My own tin man
I did not choose you
To be so heartless
Your purity lying in
The utter
Emptyness of your chest
And I, being the human I am
Constantly unpure and purifying
Find comfort in your
Sinlessness
Your inability to right me
No hope rises around you
And no shiver runs down my spine
At the touch of your cold skin
Frictionless
No strings able to attach.
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 10:44 AM UTC
long breath raked out, length of
day. thought pattern diffusing;
shadows cast on a broadening strip,
wallpaper hung close. stolen breath,
an orbit about you. consistent
glow. hinging on ripples, cut around
this field by clear breeze. branches
stretch, churning in the swept
air. held aloft, in their self-arrest.
i do not echo. this frictionless glimmer.
the vanishing extent to which i
can stop falling.
oh, but i do not want to. not
this time, sweet. each day reaches
out with tender hands, to pull
me up& out of this cavernous maze;
undoing meaningless shovelwork.
i find myself, under boughs, amidst
flowers. it's only slightly difficult to admit
this smile was smeared over
my freckling jaw, for nothing,
save for you.
even birdsong seems pale in comparison,
distant bells, ocean mist; undertow
beneath soft waves rolling
from your lungs to lips.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
keep knocking
cause i approve that sound
keep pounding
cause i hear the pounding sounding
through the metal in which i am drunk
and odourless
since i am long lost drowning
i'm minding my thought
since i am surveyed upon
and panic stricken
and panic sodden
then panic wrought
i'm scaling the walls
using the saliva on my scaleless paws
and the iris in my softening
in my frictionless gauze
is a lesion i was taught :
it's a pain to be about the task
i brought on myself
but here it resides ...
a vibration in thought
© Jon Thenes 2005
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 2:59 AM UTC
If you are lying on the railways, eyes shut and coiled as a newborn feline, life itself is flimsy as the wing of a moth, yet your eyelids assure oblivion to all visible threat.
Perhaps the fool by the rails who gleefully mimics the traffic patrol will tug on your sleeve with the curiosity of a boy in the zoo, or perhaps he will simply pass water on you. You’ve seen him **** by the roads twice. Once he received a kick on his glaring bottom by the patrol.
Eventually, he takes a triumphant leak on your body. Brisk as a sleight, your despair is now fury. It quenches your parched determination. You pull up your frame (ever since your decision to be oblivious to pain, you forbid us from stating you possess a body, how petty could you be), connecting your drenched, frictionless fists onto the fool’s face. His head drops to the side while you throw in a few more damp punches.
They are catching up with you.
You do not know where to go, possessing nothing but a few noisy coins. You ****** yourself towards the quotidian route that will never grow in familiarity, with the unsteady pattering feet of a wounded animal caught in pursuit. You know of nowhere to hide, there is no escape of capture,
especially when you are reeking of sun-baked *****
You abruptly recall your reasons for lying on the rails, yet what comes before impulse is the tedious task of stacking nerve. Your former wounds beat in harmonious agony with the new, chanting foreign grimaces. You understand this is why you create wounds, though you claim to be ignorant of pain. Physical pain is perhaps, to you, the most forgiving of all pain. You enter a diner, naive of opening hours, and order a bowl of sushi rice with sashimi.
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 9:43 AM UTC
”yet the fervent flame that fuels her will flatten her to bodilessness” — bodiless by Christina Weiler
her blades like
shiny silver roots
dug into
cold white soil
shaped thighs and calves
ankles forged from steel
firm and strong
s t r o n g
know their frictionless home
better than the restrictive
ground for mortals
she learned to
skate
before she could
crawl
the chill that
penetrates
her
does not freeze–
it
charges her body
fizzles in her blood
fills her lungs with
red hot molten
fury
each powerful
gut-wrenching
scratch
scrape
sharp edge
carves
echoing prayers into
the heart of her
unforgiving god
ordered
by a world that doesn't
understand where she came from
(whether heaven or hell no one really knows or cares)
to shatter
the ice dreams that saved (or cursed) her
to obey
the ground
to pretend that she will find that thrill—
find herself— in
something else
but through the aches she knows
she will never
forget
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 1:03 AM UTC
throw thoughts aside
and take a hit
meaning disguised
as soulless ***
frictionless fire
skin to skin
if it's what I think
I must stop my sins.
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 9:56 PM UTC
But how far have we come?
The miles we've traversed are benevolent ice:
we fly,
frictionless,
into each other.
Love destroys.
That is only to say,
"Love makes room."
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 8:50 AM UTC