"fuzzing" poems
She’s still got her makeup on
from the last night that she lived.
The blue in her crease, the electric shade
fuzzing out, like the awkward ending of a telephone call,
if people even make those
any more.
I wonder if they do.
-
Her hair half curled,
her smile still set,
from flashing itself across the room
again and again
dance after dance.
I wonder if she’ll change her clothes before she goes out again.
-
New time, new place,
But new faces can mean same clothes, same face,
same made-up face,
to greet one another.
A bit of rearranging is all it will take
for the girl to continue on
without making any change to herself.
She can play the game for another night.
I wonder if she’ll do this again when tonight comes to an end.
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 1:44 AM UTC
Living life for the sounds.
grind i mind
absolute audio-rhythmic beats pound a dance through an etching ring.
beats box across the field and further across a synapse
fill up my cup to the fuzzing auto-metric top
meters into yards into miles into years zoom fumble into wall and leak without gravity.
naked.nude.phat.spat you out like good stat.( ic.)
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 2:06 PM UTC
The ceiling fan is deafening
and my vision is as unfocused as your appeal
both spearing forward in fierce concentration
only to phase into vagueness, midway to their destination
As you continue to speak
my eyes continue to blur the scene
and I hear a series of moods, rather than words:
Anger... Anger... Injury.
Injustice, Pleading.
Righteousness. Vulnerab-- Demanding.
Reason... Reason... Reasoning.
I sit this way, fuzzing out your face
and decide it's effective, attending to your aura
selfishly shielding myself from the specificity of your language
but listening, intently listening, to your atmosphere
ringing out against the drone of that **** incessant ceiling fan.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
Country nighttime turned off the world
Absolute window blacking
Any other life void-invisible
Universe shrunk snack-size
Existence is only this cab,
these tiny lights,
this fuzzing radio
One direction
Only ahead
Only these tracks
A change in rhythm signals new territory
Lower infrastructure spend
Budget acknowledged by
transitioning drum track
More toms
Double kick
More bass, but
no less hypnotising, no less soporific, no less slowing, no less…
Snap.
Driver vigilance alarm earns its keep
Pierced by safety sound needles
Bleary eyes split open
Only closed for seconds
Enough to dry 3am eyelash glue
Intermittent, intensifying battle
Open versus closed
Here versus where
Wake versus yawning, rocking, mesmerising, irresistible…
Snap.
Assistance required
Scan for options
Snoozing thermos drools its last drips onto the floor mat
Moment of silence for coffee, our absent friend
What else?
Lunch box offers carrot sticks
Sharp, crisp, smug
No help. What else? Cake.
A silent bargain
– okay calories, we’ve had our differences, but we need to pull together
Health is tomorrow, safety is now
Sleepiness shrinks and stretches place and time
There is only here
Only now
Battle and bargains
Winning and losing
Until the sun comes up
Oct 24, 2024
Oct 24, 2024 at 10:53 PM UTC
Are you in there?
Miryam said
through the canvas
of the tent
no
you replied
I'm out
you are there
she said
and unzipped the zip
and poked her head
in the gap
you were lying there
in your sleeping bag
gazing at her red
fuzzing hair
and large eyes
where's your friend?
she asked
gone for a shower
you said
she unzipped all down
and came in the tent
walking on her knees
like Toulouse Lautrec
in a wig
and lay down beside you
how long before he's back?
no idea
you said
have we time for ***
risky
you said
sometimes risky
is enjoyable
she said softly
running her hand
down the outline
of your leg
not when an ex-army guy
comes in
and see his sleeping partner
******* some red head
in his tent
you said
she pouted her lips
spoilsport
she said
in your ear
yes I guess so
you said
what we doing today?
she asked
we're moving
onto Malaga apparently
the coach leaves at 9.30
she looked
at her wrist watch
gives us an hour
she said
in a whispering voice
gives me an hour
to get showered
and dressed
and breakfasted
and such
you said
she lay back beside you
on the sleeping bag
isn't Malaga
where Picasso was born?
yes that's right
you said
do you like his work?
she asked
sure
it makes me
want to see it again
and again
it does?
she said
as if I had said
I like to wear
ladies's underwear
don't you find his work
kind of odd?
she said
that's what I like about it
it breaks out
of that prison
which people have put
around art
as if only
such and such
can be art
she put her lips
on your cheek
wet and warm
don't I tempt you at all?
not one little bit?
she walked her fingers
down your leg
and moved them
towards your groin
not about 6ins worth?
she said sexually
how did we get
from Picasso
to you finger walking
on my *****
all is art you said
she whispered
you've left the zip unzipped
the ex-army guy said
poking his head
in the gap
what's she doing in here?
he said
just popped in
to see how he is
Miryam said
looking at the guy
with his short
back and sides haircut
and smelling
of shampoo and soap
well now you've seen
you can go
he said
can't he and I
have *** first?
she said
in her imitation
Monroe voice
no you can't
he said
go elsewhere
if you must do
such things
and he sat back
on his haunches
and stared at her
his arms folded
Ok
she said
and kissed your cheek
and walked on her knees
out of the tent
and stood up
and looked in
before the ex-army guy
could zip back up
shame
she said
we could have had
a *********
go away
he said
before I slap your backside
promises promises
Miryam said
and walked off
towards her tent
across the camp base field
girls huh?
you said
but he didn't reply
he just began packing
his stuff into his suitcase
ready for the next move
and so you closed your eyes
and imagined her
there beside you again
listening
to the patter patter
of the Spanish rain.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 4:45 AM UTC
... like obscure fuzz is surrounding my body
its the channel on the TV
that is black and white static
with the sound of no sound
taking away my ability
to hear the cheery banter
of the normal, tranquil people
who must be here
somewhere around me.
The ever buzzing fuzzing
static anxiety takes away
my ability to see
the people and things
that used to make me smile.
And I can't hear myself think
Over the sound my heart
beating intensely in an attempt
to get the hell out of me
Out of this corpse inside
the obscure buzzing fuzzy
static electri-city
that shares a name with me.
This hostile prison
I live in. The bars made
of the absolute worst
possibilities encapsulating me
The bars of fear and the
fuzzy buzzing static
stealing my time and tearing
the breath from my lungs
It's called anxiety.
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 12:01 AM UTC
Spacemen, cavorting, ridiculous jollity,
Fuzzing stars buzzing in the fabric
Space-time, folding, holding on
Spin, seven, nine, four,
Okay,
Just try to hold on.
Spinning lights flee by feeling
Hurry on Sunday
Slow
Circles.
Why? Why?
Why?
Why? Why?
You have no air.
You didn’t listen.
You had a warning…
Strap yourselves into the spin
Dazed and conned
Fused into your seat
Dancing in madness
Whistles, flutes and shakers
Unsettle your
Muted rhythm.
We sing for blessed distortion
Then drop away
Away
Who did
and
Why?
Why? Oh, God…
Bridge.
Wonder threw four bidden streets
and re-jet, the Prince Palls,
Ash on faced the walls.
Bridge.
Why? Why?
Why?
Why? Why?
Causes her arm.
Cause is her harm.
Cause is arm.
Arms are the cause of her harm.
Then-
Bridge.
Then-
Begin again…
You should not have done that.
Feb 15, 2012
Feb 15, 2012 at 5:03 AM UTC
i can't just sit anymore
let my sight roll over the window pane
and the silence of the bears roar in my ears
without obnoxious pink clouds fuzzing everything
i itch to be more
tight legs, tight arms, tight mind
but everything is too loose and bunched
in the least aesthetically pleasing way
so i treat myself to another bowl
of honey nut cheerios
and propel myself further into the trap that is my mind
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 1:45 PM UTC
This is a night
Where you can’t tell the road from the rain
Where everything is dark and light
Peaceful and weighed down
With the smell of smoke and water
Where you stand in and on and around it
And let it soak your skin
And your hair
And your clothes
Until you’re freezing
But you’re not upset
You stand under the porch
And watch it fall
Fuzzing the grass and the ground and the trees
So that nothing is horrible
Nothing is wonderful
Everything just is as it is
Where your house and the road and the car
sits and absorbs and expands
Into peace
With the birds sleeping
And the squirrels hiding
And the sky is even
And everything is beaten down into the soil
So that you are meditating with open eyes
And an open mind
And an open heart
You feel no fear
You feel no stress
Only a gentle love and awe and amazement
At how throughout the modern years
The heavens still do the same they did
When the world began
The rain is truth,
Never swaying.
Everything is nature in the rain.
If there is a god, the rain is not his tears
They are his calming hands.
May 21, 2010
May 21, 2010 at 7:04 PM UTC
I am an umbrella.
The cold rain has soaked my hair and
I can hear thunder in the distance.
I see the lightening strike the maple
Trees of Connecticut and
I can taste the garlic from my lunch,
Still on my tongue,
Three hours later.
My brain is fuzzing. The smell
Of gasoline permeates my nostrils
Like fresh baked cookies.
And I remember.
The car flipping, taillights over headlights.
Me in the front seat. We landed
In the ravine and sunk to the bottom
And here I am.
I walk across the busy highway
And reach the divider where
I find them.
I reach for the flowers and
They smell like rainbows.
Blythe, a moldy card reads,
Take care in the afterlife.
I place another next to it
From me that reads,
You will be sorely missed
Hasta luego.
I walk back across the highway
Headlights staring into my eyes
And open the front door of my car
To drive away. Moving on
Makes the pain go away and
If you forget, no one remembers
But I will until you come home.
Mar 5, 2010
Mar 5, 2010 at 6:03 PM UTC
I wake up
I feel my mind cracking
Air seeps through
But I'll ignore it for now
On weekdays the boys breathe in and out of rubber socks
Hoping to get somewhere
they've never been before
Breakfast welcomes memories towering over
Push them aside to swallow some food
And leave out the back door so no one asks you what's on your mind
I sit on the neighbors roof and feel little planets of hail
They sound like white noise
Fuzzing everything together
You don't owe me anything
I'm sorry if I act like you do
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 4:59 PM UTC
Run and hide from the summers eve thrill, while the sun's going down, Mrs Midge has her fill.
She gets in your hair as she buzzes in air, waiting to sup up your blood.
Um.
She leaves a strokes of hormone an invite to all her fuzzing friends,
Hey she screams come see me, these guys make for yummy feeds.
****** midges...bloody women, they leave their men at home!
(C) Livvi
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 6:37 AM UTC
***** this false illusion of hope
**** the promise I made
cause you may not realize it... but I'm back
in the middle of the street laying down
drowning the conspires out with the loudest music I own
but even that won't do....
my mind buzzing with lies
my chest literally hurting from the stress and adrenalin
gasping for air that seems to have dispersed away with you
I'm losing grip
losing focus
cause tears that should be fuzzing my vision are once again aren't.
I can't keep our promise..
You kiss my scares in the aftermath and assume like
it's still not going on.....
but even you now don't notice...
you can't look past my kiss...
the falsehood I wear with my smile.
The fact I can't ******* read or write anything properly with out a check
The fact that this poetry is ****
The fact that this place is no longer a sanctuary for me.
I took six-teen pebbles out
I'm purging
the chest pain stops
the buzzing subsides
the music I stop....
but then the car horn wakes me from the daze
and I realize....tonight was a bad idea
it exposed my small light world of fire'
and her blissful one of blood
I took you to my second safe zone
but I don't trust you now....
what to do, what to say
is this a price I wanna pay ?
questioning every word you say
...even the things of beauty...that made me fall at first anyway
NO
yes?
This is my goodbye to this account.....
see you in another life ?
or maybe on a especially good day if I see one again.
winter is here.
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 2:09 AM UTC
The plot unravels in a place where there is a conflict,
The Just turns the **** locking arms with the Instinct,
Wrapped around a ribbon of constant struggle,
Not an inch of movement was seen to loosen the knot,
Warped under a sheet of plastic paper it carries the thought,
Caught in feet of the moment loved and boggled,
Altruid and Maltruid speaking into the world,
Reflection of mists and essences scuffled into artificial pearls,
It peaks as they peek the unended curiosity,
Whilst the mirror is fuzzing and buzzing,
Of their frail but truthful simple realities,
The key to the treasure they do not see when those eyes are in pus,
.
.
.
.
They yearn or want to call everybody an "Us".
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 8:29 AM UTC
Hot air balloons over the pink clouds of Rapture,
the birds are singing to the wind,
the brilliant sun sings along,
Fa-la-la-la-la-ahhhh-lllaaa….
The butterflies are dancing above the roses,
the bees are making a beat
stamping, slapping, drumming
preparing for a feast.
In this place where wonder is a lust,
beautiful things would last.
But days passes too!
light becomes dark,
the sun hides behind the moon and the stars.
the clouds turn gray as they slowly cry
and the worms feed on the decaying flowers
the harsh wind takes the wings of the butterflies,
they can not fly; not anymore.
and the birds, oh my beautiful birds weep!
as the bees make irritating sounds
buzzing, fuzzing, popping the balloons.
and the beautiful things they gradually rot!
Oh my Rapture, my precious Rapture!
the only thing I feel within,
the ecstacy in my brain.
why, oh why?
why does Rapture turns to Despair?
the only thing that makes me feel an overwhelming pain!
May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 7:28 AM UTC
Blow backs left right,
flowing from the up-side
sphere of my down-facing
brain.
Cluttered pages of a book-mind,
the junk of thought-pages,
with doodles on the lined edges.
and the corners dog-eared.
Peering through the eyeglass
of the head, one finds a circus
of impulses, a parade of thought-beams
bouncing and pinging off the skull-wall.
Mindless and formless shapes,
of squares and circles, and
more strange formations begin
to come to a discombobulated life.
Shaped by stray desires,
and flaming envy-fires,
and raging dream-embers,
the circus is coming to town.
The clowns paint their faces,
the elephants don their dresses,
the trapezists prepare their rope,
the ringmasters ring their voice
the typewriters begin their dance.
The Parade of Impulses has commenced,
the ringing-pinging-tinging of the bells,
the clanging-banging-jangling of the drums,
the crashing-bashing-thrashing of the cymbals.
The Kingdom of Noise, of discordant sound,
and disjointed spasms proceeds, the
cats and rats and bats stepping out of tune,
the chairs, stairs, and the mares march
to the beat of a spastic, spastic thought-drum.
Gingerbread snaps skip the sweet fandango,
while tangerines and woodwinds play
their **** tunes and the dinosaurs of dixie
tap and sway from side to side.
Paperclips and staples sing Blue Velvet,
while the idol warbles with a Golden Flute,
and the bulldog grins widely and wildly,
playing his 8-bit accordion-tambourine.
Behold the procession of business-men
and cat-women as they are swept into
the noise-sounds, and the thought-images.
What draws them in? the feeling or the fire,
the lust or the raging desire?
The beat goes on, as does the noise,
the pitch rises on, as does the fervor,
soon the soundless static stacks,
buzzing-fuzzing-wuzzing slowly louder.
The marchers march, and the players play,
the steppers step, and the band bandies,
the parade parades, and the mind
snaps.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 12:22 AM UTC
Sometimes it hits me
Like one to many shots of whiskey after a late night binge the taste of tequila and regret stuck to the back of the throat like some nasty film
Vaguely reminiscent overly ripe peachs
When the world goes dark and all you can do is hope to wake to something better
The kind of sudden drag that seems to smack you so hard you drool
Like the brain can't comprehend what it's thinking, feeling, or even what God **** planet it's on anymore
Some sick lingering psychotic paranoia that can only be dreamt up from the bowels of some deranged lunatic
The kind of thoughts that would if spoken give you one straight ticket to crazy town
Where the good ones fall into the sanctity of drugs and the wack jobs play in their bird cages tweeting insanity
Those moments when the brain goes quiet like some old tv buzzing it's electric static
Hmmmm hmmmm hmmmmmmm
Rhythmically ringing the fuzzing sharp inhalation
Cotten wrapping the ears, eyes at the tantamount and hands on auto
The brain checks into where the person checks out and it takes control
Those 80 mile hour thoughts where driving off the road and not stopping meets the white knuckle grip
I could do it there is no stopping the lurching slow tilting wheel
Nor is there anyone to breath me back into control
To take the knife off the steady sturdy rhythm, to stop the ****** up intermingling of sickend morbidity
It is unlike the calm and even character clicking past the blinking static
Blipping from the slack jawed intensity like some victim of PTSD
Still teeming in the aftermath like some sick puppy waiting on the ride to end
It's terrible and equally ****** up this abstracting feeling is like never waking up
Strung out on some mental drug causing the heart tripping hazard of frequency
Like falling in a dream only to realize you had never slept
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 1:53 AM UTC
A little loneliness
that is all I want
But the world is an old TV
it can't be turned off
pictures fuzzing
sounds humming
emotions being tossed about
Just now I was hit by
a huge yellow ball of anxiety
followed by a yell:
"Come on, throw it back! Be a part!"
But I didn't want to be a part
so I did nothing but let it go...
A little loneliness
That is all I need
before I jump into the next moment
Nov 30, 2019
Nov 30, 2019 at 12:18 AM UTC
I just want to fade into the
Background to be only
White noise,
A fuzzing a buzzing.
A screen I'm in that's void.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
Breathe becomes short
Trying so hard to take a deep breathe
and all you get in return is a shallow
imitation of the real thing.
Chest squeezing your lungs
as if they are lemons
and it wants every last drop.
Vision fuzzing
as if suddenly a contact fell out
and your left with the water down
version of the world around you
Fear snaking in
breaking your walls
planting their seeds
in the inner most part of your brain
You shake and shiver
no matter the tempature.
It could be 90
but you'd think
it was 20 below.
Feeling that you need to run
get away from here
but you dont know why
This is what its like
when anxeity takes over
when it decided to take up residence
inside you
and makes you realize
That you never stood a chance
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 9:21 AM UTC
The sound ricochets across the room,
Waves upon waves,
Phasing, fuzzing, building,
The hall echoes with feeling,
My skin absorbs the notes,
They swim through my blood,
They fill my heart,
And there through the window,
I see light.
Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 6:22 AM UTC