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A.
SEROTONIN FIX FOR YOUR AESTHETICS

B.
WHAT'S PAST IS MOMENTARY,
THE PRESENT IS ETERNITY

C.
ALL IS DUST

D.
PERSPECTIVE RENDERS ALL

E.
THAT ELYSIAN APERTURE DARKENS IN TOTAL RECKONING

F.
PERPETUAL CONTINUUM

G.
LOST IN AN OCTOBER DESCENT

H.
THE SOUL DOES ROAM

I.
EXCEED INTROSPECTION, RECEIVE INTENTION

J.
REAL MEMORY, SURREAL THEME

K.
FOLLOW THY HEATHEN DIRECTIVE (TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH AND) ON TO EXALTATION

L.
THE MATRIX HAS YOU

M.
GLITCHED HISTORY

N.
LET THE SUBTLE WORD SOAR

O.
YOU BROKE ME THOROUGHLY

P.
WAITING ALONE ON THIS SATELLITE

Q.
SHATTER THE SKY

R.
JUDGE WITH AS MANY ASPECTS IN MIND

S.
EMPATHY IS DIVINITY

T.
THIEVIUS RICTUS DEVILISH GENTILITY

U.
ADVENTURE WAS NEVER A CRIME

V.
CONTEXT IS ALL THAT EVER IS

W.
KNOW THY DRUG/KNOWLEDGE IS DOPE

X.
AZURE HAZE OF SUMMER VIBRANCY

Y.
MESCALITO TORNADO ON DESERT SANDS

Z.
DOOMSDAY KISS
{[UPPER-CASE](OBJECTIVE)}
We stepped, unknowing, into the shadows
cast
by social media; postmodern realities emerged,
Crafted
from big data. We're caught in the world wide web,
Caught between
"the electron and the switch".
Cambridge Analytica,
Data Propira;
Technocracy,
Algocracy.

Enticed
by a promise
of what could be,
"Trust your technolust"
was the advice those hopefuls gave me.
Their optimism, innocent naivety, glitched history.
I can't sign out
of my social media account.
Anxiety's got me in her grip.

How do we fight the power,
Will privacy prevail?
Data rights
would promise us
a patch for this great hack,
But
there'll always be shadows
as long as there's light,
Those who declare
anonymity is
their right.
Cyberpunks, cypherpunks, crypto-anarchism
won't be enough.
As is, potentials' -liberalism and -libertarianism
duke it out.
The electron remains, but one wonders
as 'the switch' gives way
to something all the more quantum.
Recommended watching:
The Great Hack (2019)

Quotes:
Line Seven from The Hacker Manifesto by +++The Mentor+++ (January 8, 1986)
Line Fifteen seen in Hackers (1995)
Ryan P Kinney Apr 2015
Who Am I?

I am a boy and a man.
I am a son, a brother, a cousin, a nephew, and a grand child.
I was a boyfriend, a fiancé, a husband, and an in-law.
I am a bachelor.
I am surrounded and abandoned.
I am a family man and a loner.

I am a homemaker and a handyman.
I wear the apron and the tool belt.
I am a neat freak and a slob.
I am an amateur contractor and a contracted amateur.
I am a dumpster diver, a recycler, and a decadent waste.
I am a glutton, a scavenger, and a scrapper.

I am a friend and an enemy.
I am fun and an annoyance.
I am a lover and a hater.
I am creepy, cruel, and harsh.
I am tender, loving, and inviting.
I have a foul mouth and tender lips,
Drenched in jagged, soft-serve words.

I am a painter, sculptor, draftsman, sketcher, character designer, photographer, graphic designer, fashion designer, kitbasher, customizer, and crafter.
I am a reader, a writer, and a poet.
I am the Jail Baby, Ryan & Lisa, The Phoenix, The AntiFather, and The HEYMAN!
I compose symphonies of visual and intangible imagery.
I bring form to thought.
I destroy,
I create.
I am an artist.

I am a geek, nerd, freak, and otaku.
I have been punk, goth, prep, white trash, and metrosexual.
I wear glasses,
But only as a sick joke.
I am beautiful and ugly,
Clean and *****.
I am unique.
I am predictable.
I have changed, but am still the same.

I am a techie,
An electronic ******.
I am cutting edge and old school.
Digitally signed and sealed.
I am analog and obsolete.

I am an adrenaline addict.
I can chill, maybe slow,
But never relax.

I am blue collar, tradesman, and service industry.
I am peon and ****** on.
Oh, but I have done the ******* too!
I have been hired and fired,
Bought and sold.
I have worn the uniform,
I have said, “**** the man!”
I am the proletariat,
I am in charge.

I am a student, dropout, and teacher.
I am class clown and teacher’s pet.
I have learned, forgotten, and taught,
But never learned my lesson.
I don’t listen to what I’m told,
But always do what I tell.

I am a genius,
I am an idiot.
I have intelligence, but often lack the intel.
I am naïve, but wise.
I am right and wrong.

I have philosophies and ideas,
But no religion.
I have desecrated and blasphemed,
Prayed and praised.
I have lusted, envied, and coveted.
I am guilty and innocent,
Pure and soiled,
Good and bad.

I am a driver and a passenger.
I am an explorer and a shut-in.
I am wild and free,
Caged and stifled.
I was warmly wrapped in my blanket,
But burned through it.

I have rode, climbed, and conquered.
I  stood still.
I jumped in.
I have fallen and been defeated.

I have been abroad,
I have been nowhere.
I have drifted.
I have settled.
I have led and been led.
I have been in and out,
Here and there,
Around and AWOL,
On the run and trapped.
But, not everywhere.

I have applied,
I have procrastinated.
I have worked my fingers to the bone,
I have slept it off.

I have fought and fled.
I have quit.
I have endured.
I am a winner and a loser,
A champ and a chump.

I am fake,
I am real.
I have lied, cheated, and stole.
I have been honest, fair, and generous.

I am selfish and selfless.
I am a gift giver, gift wrapper, and gift taker.
I am a thief and a philanthropist.

I am insecure and confident,
Confused and absolutely sure.
I am proud and ashamed.
I am complicated and convoluted,
But simple to please.

I have blind faith and guarded suspicion
I have secrets,
But lie rarely.
I accept everyone,
I trust nothing.

I have pointed the finger,
Only to turn it on myself.
I have held grudges and forgiven.
I have trusted and misguided.
I have been Judas and Jesus.

I am a maniac,
I am sane.
I have been strong and weak.
I can keep it together,
But prefer to break it apart.

I have bled.
I have healed.
I have been abused and neglected,
Coddled and protected.

I have been kissed and punched;
Hunted, wanted, and arrested,
Ignored, overlooked, and invisible.

I have loved and lost,
Lived and learned.
I am a soldier of misfortune and opportunity.

I have blended in.
I have stood out.
I have stood up.
I have backed down.
I have been backed into a corner.
I have all the space in the world.

I have seen, interpreted, and perceived,
I have ignored, dismissed, and been blind.
I hunger, want, and need…
I am satiated and content,
But never at peace.

I have been misunderstood and underestimated.
I have been put down, put up, pushed away, and let in.
I have been known,
But never entirely.

I have raged, cried, smiled, trembled, and laughed.
I have been depressed.
I have been happy.
I have been suicidal. I have felt death.
I have been lost and found.
I have been broken, then fixed,
Stitched, yet glitched,
Scarred, but whole.
I am alive.


I took the chance,
I let the moment slip.
I walked the straight and narrow,
I ran down the road not taken.
I dream; some whole, some shattered.
I go with the flow, but don’t let the waves take me.

I am shards and reflections,
Machinations and reactions.
I am translucent pieces and parts,
Assembled and disheveled.
I am the big picture still focused on the details.

I am the sum total of heredity and experience.
I am not,
I am more.
I am everything and nothing.
I am a walking contradiction.
I am human.

I tried to be you,
But didn’t know what that meant.
I am me,
It’s all I know.

Who are you?
Neon lights Oct 2014
Framed so poetically, there it stays
Never steps out of its flimsy boundary line but
it takes in everything with him
Inside a a static sea frame, there
roam all the wild guesses you
took:
all blue
all trapped, as erratic and diminishing as it was named.
Was you were to throw that time when
you tried to take to the sea
all into it?
There is no need to make me open my eyes to see something as obvious as this for a even a blind man can see it so crystal clear
in his pitch black vision
I'm closing my eyes and hope it stops
but

   I remember waking up
   somewhere in midnight term
   drowning in salty seas
   and making bitter coffee to
   recede the former taste.
   I found your diary on the sea
   shore with all of the demerara
   sugar sand
   disconnecting wires in my mind
   with overflowing water in the
   bathtub
   and getting electrocuted.
   Alarms when off buzzing with
   tick tocks
   I found myself with
   a pacemaker also
   your dying digital clock you had
   since forever, displaying
   blurs of phobia


Am I wrong to be trying
to breath underwater
Would it be right to despise
the blue sea that should soothes us
that turned grey for all our
fears we threw in without hesitate
I put all of my fears into this sea,
as a glitched version of your
deceiving eye hue,
demerara sugar on the edge of
your lips lingering in my coffee
chronomentrophobia oh thalassophobia,
yet I was to choose between icy cold ocean air and
falling into clocks' icicle-like hands.
This
is much of an error as it is
a tsunami washing us with a tide of heartache like
over sugared coffee with still bitter taste that melted into
my inner cheeks when I had ulcers
and
you wearing wristwatch while holding my hands.
I spent the day researching phobias and learnt that there are phobia for almost everything. I am not suffering from any of two of this phobias. I also spent the day learning about sugar types and pacemaker and coffee. Sometimes I think phobias are beautiful in some unexplainable ways.
Dream Fisher Mar 2017
I've seen criminals act heroic,
Heroes walk as thieves,
Humans must be at a steady downfall
Because all I see are leaves
Tarzan stood half monkey, half man
Until he let all those apes escape
Now he's running with Specter in this primate land.
I play mario in a tanooki suit, as a statue would stand
Sure he could take on a world of weight,
But I still miss the days he wore a cape.
See because you only get one master ball to capture,
Still unable to catch a politician who isn't a lying *******.
I am backed by deep words quoted by Mewtwo
Even in minds they create from scratch, they won't believe you.

The heartless can swallow your heart whole
Leaving your shell cold, walking as a nobody
Created as a somebody glitched through the system like Xion
When no one remembers your soul what planet would you be on
Fighting for a right like Seifer  versus Leon.
I am looking at a world frozen like Shiva's diamond dust
With Eve pumping through my veins,
Getting stronger, selling all the Adam in my clutch.


You will never find me, how I look no one knows
I'm a master of disguise with a Poppit full of clothes
I'm storing all that I know in my roots
Collecting memories like wumpa  and paopu fruits
Stealing loot from crooks like Captain Hook
As time tick-tocks, in time we are all late
So follow the white rabbit, this red pill won't wait.
Love In Hiding Aug 2013
every monster finds it way to my paintbrush. and paints itself and its story.

monsters write themselves in blue ink, idling aphotic shadows, luring near floors, unable to view themselves as nothing more than weak mindless creatures who yearn to be seen as beautiful and not fearful creatures that hide in dark spaces. They want to be drawn and written about, painted and noted. They want to know if they have some place in the world that fears them.
the voices are faded distorted whispers, glitched between my thoughts and the floorboards
they will not let me sleep until they have their stories told.
Carlos Nov 2017
It's stories above where the butterflies rustled,
Whirring between the lights in aeolian bustle.
I'm smiling spritely at a neon halo,
While my organs writhe in jacqueminot El Niño.
Wading the nightscape  with a glitched simper,
I could not change nor attempt to tinker,
Just breaching the moments passing to linger.
Fingers, then palms, then lips, then black,
Then for a few seconds the world collapsed.
A breath, a sip, some wit, I'm back.
Shed the murky vision of captive cataracts.
And now,
The sylph saunters in epitomized elegance,
And I've buckled on the inside to the resonant reverence.
I follow the fragrance in her wake as paralyzed sedatives,
And anything I might say could only lack eloquence.
Then magnanimous mantras attract exact,
It seems way down the rabbit hole I've finally met my match.
There's a mesh of flesh, a smooth caress,
Then I wake and realize these were not visions yonder death.
Particles of my brain erupt,
I can't explain away the unfading elation of touch.
Every pose palatial down to the pixels,
I'd gaze deep in the sheen of her mind gleaming as crystals.
Her eyes open like daybreak in flashes,
Sunstreaks glint over the horizon of her lashes.
There's morning songbirds behind the taste of coffee,
I think she's figured I'm just a well decorated softy.
Unveiling my most human of contentions stripped to the eclipse of logic,
My former self laughs in tones pitched sardonic.
Euphorically strumming at gossamer heartstrings,
Etched in the fabric as sakura carvings.
Ann M Johnson Jun 2016
Had such a busy week
so exhausted I could barely speak
Needed to get up early on Friday for an important appointment
much to my disappointment my alarm glitched
maybe even caused by a power outage
Instead of making it to the appointment I was dreaming about it while
asleep in my bed.
Perhaps maybe I needed the rest really bad and that is why I overslept.
It might be my body's way of saying that I needed to slow down a bit.
Jellyfish Dec 2016
Back when I was glitched,
you found me broken
and you stitched me back up,
now I'm more than full of love.
Scott Horror Dec 2015
i am becoming strange
who is stranger
me or the girl i dont know
sitting next to me
on the bus

my hands shake
as i try to remember
your telephone number
at the corner payphone

i keep on glitching
itching and twitching
and i miss-dial your number
and my quarter is wasted

i slept with a stranger
girl than i remember
but not how you think
it was that she fell down
in the middle of the party
and the glitching and twitching
reminded me of you
so i carried her
and put her
in my spare bedroom
and that was it

when she left
i went back to the payphone
to tell you about it
my my hands were still shaking
and i miss-dialed your number
but it went to your mother
who explained to me again
why you can't pick up

she said you slept
in a nice box downtown
after you got too drunk
and your bike hit a truck

i said that i remember
how you glitched and twitched
how you were hospitalized
for a week or two
and then when you got out
you forgot to call me

she told me that you cant call
anymore
because you sleep
in a nice box downtown
with your grandma and uncle

after she hung up
i went to talk to you
in this nice box downtown
but before i got there
i got too drunk
and my bike hit a truck
and now i can see you
in your nice box downtown

but you still
dont return
my calls
Bryce Oct 2018
Grievous

I hold you as the chameleon with his spring-trigger bone
Holds his tongue
And I will catch you as a fist
I will lick the stench from your odor sacks
as a skunk

All those creepy little fragments
bugs in the system;glitched codes
they are shackled souls in a microsecond arc-length
of the universal
Prodding the dirt
and the worms
as stars

How about all the spice trees?
The many different species of food glitter
they make the buds sparkle, they are thinking of the taste
of umami, of sour, of patchwork gaze
the cooked vestibules of bone
the marrow, seeping into the stew
The pepper trees are smoked
equinoctial bonfires
You and I are yet to be cooked through


A taxi in the trader joes parking lot
Big repetitive 7's splattered across its paneling
I won't forget when i'm drunk or inebriated somehow
The tree in the center of town is lit up with LEDs
Branches curling like worms

You are Pharos, you are the great celestial beam
you are the crescent moon, thin as a sleeve
and the hot taste of batter on your breath
the way you let my Guinness cool off next to the space-heater
and give me yogurt from the local townsfolk
Everything is creamy, you said.

But i don't like to hear that
It's a steel rod into my brain, that.
I am a simple Vishnu Hare Brahma
I do not have any purpose but to be enlightened
and worshiped for my powerful odors
and a four-chambered bowel
that makes the turn easier for worms.

2

Pitiful

You are the hopeless pod
the many wildebeest, crossing their annuals
through twirling water-crocs,
Lion Prides
Leopards shifting within the brush
Bacterial infections from ***** tusks
Strange metal boxes
No 7's on this side

I want to blow the ******* skulls off of anything
that aims for you, sweet mare
45-70
Will literally send chunks of it into orbit
Lion or Turtle or window or Children
The most godly thing is a bullet
And the streams of blood that will seed a new ravine
and seep the next feed of riverrun

Will you be mine, then?
Cole Hearn Oct 2015
The house alarm threw a fit,
Loud sound night red upset! If
she hadn't made it home after I glitched,
the alarm would still breath wail live.
But she pressed numerous soft keys,
like seven red green backspace deletes.
I couldn't remember the code,
I hug you, you scold,
you get down and say cold,
Listen Good Cole;
This is mine, not your home.
I wish to fire
All planets I can reach,
Do even stars can tell what happens,
When universe is glitched?

Is matter fading?
Like me - fade in the dusts,
Seems like I've lost my spotless mind
In self-destruction rust.

My eyes are staring,
The silver rain shall pass,
The darker skies will open all its beauty -
This vision shall be last.

World is on fire -
I'm watching oceans burn,
The darker skies once radiant,
Mountains collapsed in storm.

And now I'm dying -
My scared mind's only thought,
But when I'm staring up at heavens,
I see - the thuth is far beyond.

Beyond bright starlight,
And cosmic coldest lights away,
If i could look behind the blinding suns,
I'd clearly see its cruel sway.

(inspired by OTWATM and Midnight Odyssey)
catherine Jun 2017
A day long been forgotten
was the day our paths had crossed.
Back then, I was made of brittle bones
and smoke-filled lungs –
a parasitic host.
And you were a scratched mixtape,
glitched beyond repair –
a spectre of menace.
We became a tragic misadventure -
a meteor crash,
a numbing hailstorm,
a catastrophic shipwreck.
Safe, it was no longer.
I felt the ground crumble when
you left.
Our story had no rhythmic patterns
or ballad structures,
just a simply-written prose.
If only we had met today,
I, a blossoming daffodil in spring
and you, a picturesque landscape
But fate vehemently opposed.
Who else to blame for our love’s brevity
But time, the relentless enemy.
It was at the party where we first met.
I wasn't feeling it, but you did.
Thank goodness, you threw your number down.

I didn't mean to call you; my phone glitched.
But I don't regret it.

Chorus:
Now we're sitting in the bay drinking away our sun days,
Seeing the boats rocking in the sea.
The band plays a song about falling in love,
But I'm not thinking about that, I'm thinking this is the best vacation I've ever had
_


Now you're climbing up on me like a puppy saying I'm the cutest girl,
Saying you will miss my kiss, and you wouldn't trade our time for the world.
It's a shame I live far away, and we can't continue this,

My hotel key needs to be returned to the lobby, and I got to go home,
But I don't wanna go,
Gotta enjoy what's left of your lips.

Chorus

Now this Sunday has turned to a Saturday and it’s a goodbye we can't withstand.
I'll always have that picture of us and the memories on the sand.
You in your board shorts and me dressed to ****,
I won't stay another night.
Oh hell yes I will.
Chorus
-WRR
Stephanie Feb 2018
; I witnessed the diminishing
last glance of glimmer,
blast of galaxy in my own
rugged almond-brown iris
before it turn all pitch black
from a well-known being
to a now stranger soul
everything and everyone
turned into a total vacuum
but of broken pieces;
of broken promises;
of torn relationships;
of torn heart;
of glitched perception;
of glitched beliefs;
of shattered self;
of shattered life.

I then, see through my eyes
a total different land
eccentric logic of wisdom
everything I knew became untrue
like a pool of treacherous
I turned around til it focus
my eyes somewhere in event horizon
where there is no exact beginning
but certainly never-ending
oh Gaia, look what you've become
Look at your self
look at me
holistic brevity of keen evil
stealing happy pills
keeping on their hidden pockets
shining argentum of sharpened utensils
a girl wishing a nightmare
a boy doing the nightmare
i run, run and run faster
before I could ever sense danger
but the thing I realised
is that no matter how I runaway
the more I came closer to trap
my flesh reject the force
thrown helplessly on it
drowned in fiery of pleasure
this must be a false paradise
a dungeon of cruelty clothe in beauty
no one will truly admit
no one will ever notice
a need for freedom and peace
no, not the fake, short-term ones

an outcry for help from my voiceless mouth
Finally echoed in Foreverland
A Great Voice answered
In a very powerful splash of pure purity
That nothing and no one could withstand
Hoping in a certain foundation

I could finally see goodness
my eyes turned into color of life
tears of blood finally washed
wipe out all the imperfections
not even a single dust remain
people of the same eyes as mine are gone
to a much better place
moved to the permanent residence
my eyes witness perfection
no, not the fake, short-term one
eternal rejoicing
forever singing
songs of glory
End of mourning
Start of praising
Day Approaching soon
neth jones Oct 2019
featherweight

with more heat than light
more feast, than a violence
we found a clamour


together

drunk tank, we tackled
battered at one and the other
we mashed in pleasing


years

we dedicated
fractured time manufactured
sot saturated


employed

misfunctional us
trussed ; brace pinned neat by the heels
whatever be, come


glitched

the floor-riding fits
upturned, revealing sickness
now observed and prone


hold hands

treated far apart
separate medical cots
in damage we bed
Jace Mar 2021
I'm I have no idea how this was seen by so many people it was legit an empty box because the website glitched lol
Andrew Rueter Oct 2018
Ostracization
Contamination
Through my deflation
I find devastation
On the devil’s station
Of severed relations

My misfit
******
Sin bit
Prison stint
Reminisced
Of my bliss
Without a kiss
So I eat a dish
Of a returning wish
But I’m a burning witch
Who’s yearning to switch
From learning I’m glitched

I received
A receipt
Of deceit
By elite
Petite
Feet
That stepped on
My weapon
Of inspection
Due to detections
Defused by erections

The jaded
Invaded
And waited
To be hated
So I’d be baited
And mentalities traded

Pickaxe
Sick facts
Impact
My tact
As I react
To the flak
I use to attack
Coming back
On my track
Turning black

How do I deal with their negativity?
Is it really just a matter of relativity?
Must I have my relatives killing me
Before the hatred filling me
Is justified?
Why must I cry
When only dust resides
In my desolate insides?

The heartless devastate
Making me separate
Into a mental state
Completely innate
An unseemly inmate
Of the tumultuous strait
Between finding a date
And the bitter fate
Dinner plate
Sinners make

This challenge leaves me petrified
Possibly electrified
From their pesticide
That infects inside
Until I elect to hide
And convince myself I don’t care
My mental health I won’t share
I’ll just scream no fair
Flailing arms in the air
I will not have been spared
By this devastating nightmare
Diction Oct 2018
Dear Artist/
Your art sings to me like a soft kiss/
And as the poetic words are spoken they stop to rest carefully here atop my lips/
Tasting of loneliness/
Something I understand well unfortunately from years of misery/
It regrettably makes up most of my memories/
Every moment I'd spent ready to surrender from the pain I suffered/
Often left to ponder/
Why me/
Does nobody see these scars that bleed/
Upset that so many could leave me with such ease/
Always leaving questions unanswered inside my mind/
Despite all the times I screamed out their names/
Because in the end/
I wasnt worth the compassion let alone the attention/
Feelings of depression/
Thoughts saying Im nothing/
Convinced I deserve this/
Listening to the emptiness echoing in my chest/
I've felt it all myself once before, unable to drown in the liquor anymore/
All I wanted to do was turn up the music and let the silence play through it/
So know your not alone having to deal with everything on your own/
There's always this place where people care about the pain you share/
Wanting to hear things from your joys to things you fear/
Where we love this art we all write/
An the company of another poets insight/
Just remember things get easier/
Cause its always better tomorrow I swear/
So I guess I'll end this letter and see you there/
Yours truly, Diction "****** Glitched" Diers/
Raven Feels Sep 2022
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, infinity=zero

Luna betrayed the Lady
& the scene glitched a definite into maybe
Luna betrayed the Lady
& my fourth hour seemed a little bit too hazy

                                                           ­                 ------ravenfeels
****** madness
Engendering doubt
Mellifluously kept me within these walls of belief
Too bad, religion was old
And the girl was young
The memory was transience
Diction Oct 2018
Heres a little piece of my heart I would like to share in this lyrical art\

It's been playing the biggest part in my life as this papers white\

Leaving a new found outlook right in sight\

As the ****** glitched accepted as poet tested\

One of its own kind looking for a friend similar in mind\

A one and only, like me, born to be from this ****** wicked place I came to see\

And I'm thankful everyday for the talent most can't compare\

These ambitions have been twisted impared with a dream that's shared\

A family love that'll never tare\

An like so many others this poetry is my passion\

Black and white painted fashion\

Being the memoirs of an addict whos had it\

Whos sad of it\

Whos never it\

This Poet is needing a partnership of another artist\

One that feels every word of this as they move me with every flick of their wrist\

Two, one of a kind poetically crafted compositions of a ****** innate craft individually twisted\

So please if you will create with me something more then the norm but a legacy not crafted but torn\

Taken from the minds of the unnoticed, unnoticed by even those that might notice\

Depths of their insainity only now am I ready to explore\

So let me start by being the first to introduce myself forever more\

I'm Diction, "****** Gliched", Dier\

I've been addicted to the arts ever since I was first kissed by her\

Psychologically possessed by her\

With rhymes in everything I come to see to the point where every thought of mine is but one these lines\

The inspired drawn images of concepts individually mine\

Wickedly messed up in the mind\

Life glitched beautifully to shine when it shines\

Another side of the something taken with every compostion that's written\

Sometimes seen without even a glance given so it's now walking dead living\  

Guess I'm monster shaded, hated, coloured as the now tainted\

This one poetic stain that gave it\

Written like an artist who's tamed it\

The same bit\

An artisan it created\

I hate it\

Forget it\

One last time I'll confess it\

Guess it's forever this\

Poetry stated lines of the other half who's new like you\

Cant wait to meet my other half before I'm dead like you\
The night doesn't make sense.
Nothing's fixed
The world's still spinning, broken
Glitched.

How come you're still here?
Am I Imagining you?
But you feel real.
What should I do?

I don't want to believe it
This night doesn't end it all
Divide it be zero!!
**** it all!

***** the numbers
Let's forget the ******* theories
I didn't stay up to see you leave
I don't care if it's insanity.

Don't give the feeling a name
Don't give the night a chance to end
I want it to stay like this
Even if nature's laws have to bend.

So what if it's wrong?
It's all I have right now
And all I lose if that sun comes up
So please, I beg.

Don't let it end, keep time stuck
Let's keep it here and never let go
Take the night
And let's divide it by zero.
mythie Nov 2017
Static screens, calling my name.
Disfigured frames of my bedroom.
Morphed audio, taunting me.
Red velvet, soft sheets.

Downing more medicine.
It helps with the voices.
The screens still shake.
Audio still plays.

Secret messages, binary within screens.
Static, glitching televisions.
Unsettling 70s chimes.
Warm water, overflowing bath.

Downing more medicine.
It helps with the voices.
Messages swarming in my mind.
Songs stuck in my head.

Human eyes, staring at me through screens.
Human lips, moving at me through screens.
They're talking, I can hear them.
Their voice is glitched and edited.

Downing more medicine.
It helps with the voices.
I can't hear anything anymore.
I can't see.

                                                           ­  I can't breathe.
let's dive into the thought of that Benue woman.
let's see through her sorrow carved separately,
how many children are born to die before noon?
1966 saw this on the tail of her skins proudly,
till 1977, pogom of lunatic fringed our thoughts,
We enslaved our reasonings to the ashes of right, everything without a comma seems right
to us & we failed to allow the oceans break in the cities on our cheeks without killing them.
these memories are the genocide &mythical histories that keep fading faster to hurt us.

It was a happy day on the face of the sun,
Erinma went to farm &never returned home.
We searched all the delivered forest but
could not have a trace of her glitched doom.
It was a sunny day, a bleeding white day,
Ayola went to the stream and never came back.
We only saw his blood spoke of herdsmen,
His spirit ran towards Enugu wet shrines.
All we saw was his pains assaulted fairly along the confluence border of River Benue & kogi.
Our thoughts are no longer golden to hearts.

It was a fateful baked day of excitement,
Ene went to school & never came back for her
mother to pick the gaze of the smile in her
pride, she was never seen but her shadows
left traces like voicemail to the road to Sambisa.
Still, strength formed like cascading sweat on
the faces of our trembling lips, no one spoke,
No one spoke of this evening even their Aso could not come to fight for what has become
of us in these two cities where boys are enemies to girls breaking the route which the wind blew.

We learnt to hide cocroaches in every cupboard,
&our leaders taught us this & how suffering could be beneficiary to our hearts like tonic.
Genocide taught us how to deny our own the right to live & live life like the living ought to
live. they made knives part oceans of water,
They made us a guest in our own home!
a house won't be a home anymore when our young ones are killed in a traumatic chaos.  
where we eat are the places of mortals bodies
a deafening silence hung on every spirit here.

Defining gels of life gathered like firrwood,
On the pupils of our eyes, skulls are draw to drown us in the drawings life came up with.
We are treasure of genocid messes like *****
Of ballardic poems written with a sad pen.
Let's develop this film today & tomorrow,
If you renew your license of mind to fit in
then, the blood of those killed will bear us
Witness to the craving wind looking forward
to hearing a word from what we made here to be.
A land of blood and cracked sorrows.
Asominate Jun 2018
Dear Work,
I love you, I loathe you.


You got my mind overloaded
Thoughts of you fill my head,
No room for anything else.

Hacked my life and you stole it;
Reprogrammed all my rules,
And guessed my passcodes, too!

And now
I can't act the same,
'Cause, Work, you're a bug I can't shake.
You're pushing my hard drive too far,
All my circuits will break.

Work, you are a dangerous game,
You are a dangerous game,
Why must do you?

You are a dangerous game,
Nothing can protect my brain
From a sadistic virus like you!

Getoutofmyhead!head!head!head!head!head!head!
Getoutofmyhea­d!head!head!head!head!head!head!
Getoutofmyhead!head!head!head!he­ad!head!head!
Getoutofmyhead!head!head!head!head!head!head!

You'­re too much of a good thing,
So good, you're bad for me;
Corrupts my memory.

Shocked my mainframe, yes you sting-
In my mind all lines of code
Are glitched up and going wrong.

Sorry for acting a little bit strange,
But now I must do you, whatever it takes,
You're pushing my hard drive too far,
All my circuits might break



If I can't attend to you,
I wouldn't, wouldn't attend to me either.
See "Play" around you.
I want to, want to, wanna just delete her
Sorry for acting a little bit strange
But now I must do you, whatever it takes

I love you,
I loathe you
Sarah Flynn Oct 2020
my first love was young rebellion
and how it made me feel.
my second love was abuse.

I have been asked,
on more than one occasion,
how I could fall in love with
a man who I was scared of.

my masochism was
inside of me for years
before I admitted to it.
I like to talk about how
I didn’t know that it was
wrong for him to hurt me,
but somewhere deep in the
back of my young mind,
I did know.
I realize that now.

I realize now that
maybe I enjoyed it.
maybe that was part of it,
my own fantasies leaking
through the cracks of my
innocent, good girl persona.
or maybe I truly believed
that his abuse was
all I deserved.

my childhood had taught me that
I broke everything that I touched.
I came from a broken household
with a broken family.
I broke both of my legs at one time,
and started the next school year
with two bright casts.
I broke toys that weren’t mine,
and ceramic dishes that
I threw down too hard,
and the hinges of every
bedroom door that I slammed shut.
I broke hearts, including my own.

when I fell in love,
I had finally met someone
with no conscience and
no concept of morality.

he was a sociopath,
a narcissist, an abuser.
he was the perfect
subject for my poetry,
and the perfect match
to my masochism.

I looked at him and wrote
that he was the diagnoses
that flooded the pages
of some therapist’s notes.
he was the embodiment
of the pain that he inflicted,
terrifying but somehow
too attractive to resist.

he was a love story
jotted down by a nihilist,
a black hole taking me
deeper and deeper.
he was a blank slate
that could not be
written over.

he was as empty as a bottle in
the hands of an alcoholic,
a freshly dug grave waiting
patiently for a body.

I worshipped him
like an absent father,
idolizing his image
as if I had only ever
known of his appearance
and normality and charm.
I acted as if I had no idea
that beneath the surface of his skin,
he was nothing more than
a living corpse.

if chaos theory is
as real as death, and
if I was never traumatized
and grew up happily,
I doubt that any of this
would have happened.
but it did.

whenever someone asks how
I could fall in love with
a man who I was scared of,
I tell them this.

I tell them that
I fell in love with him
because he was already
missing something inside.
his mind had glitched
somewhere in his past,
and then it failed to restart.
he did not feel emotions
the way that other people do.
I’m not sure if he could
feel anything at all.
he was already broken.

I fell in love with him
because he was the only thing
I had ever encountered that
I knew I couldn’t break.
Growly Wolfus Nov 2019
I wake up from my hellish nightmares
head throbbing
What had happened last night?
empty beer bottles stare at me
memories filter into my mind
black and grey and white
and...

Red.

Did I really do it?
Or was it a part of my dreams?
She's dead.
Isn't she?
It wasn't real.
It couldn't have been.

The kitchen is empty
I don't want to go back outside
Not yet.
The snow welcomes my departure
I'm surrounded by figures on this chilly day
their glitched faces blacked-out by my rage
and voices turned to static

Grabbing some food and a case of beer
passing through the crackling storm
She was the only face I could see
we were together for such a long time
I...I loved her.
Why did she have to leave!?

Running amidst the crowded street
winter winds howling in my ears
Her voice...the only one I could hear
Is she alright?
I have to check
I push against the flurry
my eyes welled with tears

I ring the doorbell numerous times
and toss all of my food in the blizzard snow
banging on the door
until it creaks open
the frame slightly broken
the glass of the second lying shattered on the floor

"I'm sorry," I stammer aloud
"I didn't mean to break it."
Eerie silence causes my head to ache
Some furniture was moved or tipped over
I fix it for her.  Perhaps she's asleep.
But why, at this time, is she not awake?

"Sorry to bother-" I start again
then it hits me like a bus
The memories come in like a flood
I open the door to her bedroom
her cold eyes stare back at me
my hands drip with her blood

The world becomes black and grey and white
and...

Red.
What do you make this world to be?  Everyone perceives it differently.  But I suppose the world is more colorful to me.  At least, the basic colors, you see.
Jazz May 2022
I used to choose my words with ease
Picking and choosing the placement
Aligning the thought’s with the paper
perhaps try to think back to the pen tap?
Now it’s  the click of a keyboard
I know im off track
Im still moving backwards somehow
I’ll try to reroute

These letters used to glide out my mind
Now they stay stitched over and over
Mind glitched trying to rewire the mind of professionally trained liar

Lies spoken not with malicious intent but rather in my own self defense
Also insecurity of my own life path and journey
For fear of my rejection i used  these lies for protection
For my mind is far to flexible for ones own good

My malleable mind had molded like clay
Then hardened once it saw the light of day
And basked in the sunlight
So much so it forgot how to admire  nippy nights

Blending  truths of characters played and my own
Twisting truths though i hate to admit id done that alone
Thought i wasn’t always a truth teller
I strive now to do better

I’ve learned flexibility is useless without stability
Clay compact so bound it broke
Which is fine
Just remember my previous line
Flexibility is useless without stability

Blending, bending  and finally mending
A mind shattered and rebuilt after ending
New beginnings
So many problems in the world, hard to break through the swirls,
Look at the boys and girls, confused education abused, misused,
Now im glued, to by the hate of the news, they'll keep ya with a burnt fuse,
Learned the rules, long ago, walked my own way, dont be a mule,
These fools, live by broken rules, handy with the tools, let my my mind cruise,
Pass a million miles, times infinite smiles, booms shot like Guile,
A street fighter, and a raw writer, never a biter, flows thrown tighter,
Than a boas choke hold, unveil the threshold, see the gold,
They hold, America's currency, been up since the revolutionary,
Peep the sceneries, of these fine loonies, got the knife n the boonie,
Looking lika Vietnam vet, eyes open tunnels strollin' like a jet, stream
They say, it's no I team, but I see the eyes, breaking up things,
As they cling, onto the souls, of the people, too many leaks of evil,
Love jesus, but the same jesus, they never pleased us, with justice,
No gods before thee, or imagery, but I see the great famed mockery,
Playing ourselves, weak health, junk foods just an operation of stealth,
See the rich, dont eat that ****, I saw the flaws before they glitched,
Now I understand, the psy behind, why the grinch, stole christmas,
Vexed over my wishes, a young lad thought, I had, everything to be glad,
Sad, moments we living in, I pitched in, too much of time, to slime,
People show they real colors, no matter, what shirt they got on,
See me blasting, microphone mastering, see the shots that's plastering,
On ya billboard signs, standing by the highway, looking for the right way,
See what the signs says,
Obey dont break the laws, I shake my head, and tighten my jaws,
I'm at an uproar, feel the pain, but I ain't feeling sore, to the core,
Slow sip the holy water, had a spiritual slaughter, as I caught a,
Break from reality, now I'm free, chilling with nature ever so happily,
Krusty Aranda May 2021
Here I find myself again
scribbling the thoughts within my head
spewing words so I can breathe
to aliviate the strain on my throat
from swallowing screams whole

Again I'm imprisoned in me,
in someone else
In everyone
Everywhere

I forgot how to be

I just function by automation alone
a glitched, bugged program barely justifying its reason to exist
holding tight to the line of code for my sanity
I've been written,
programmed,
conditioned by others

For others

And what about me?
Where did I put myself?
Left last to not annoy with my problems
procrastinating on my own well being

Where am I?

At the bottom of the ***** laundry I failed to take to the basket
Under the bed I neglected to sleep on while insomnia payed a much anticipated visit
Stuck on the sides of the bowl of soup I didn't have the appetite to eat
In the last place I'd look because I'm so sure that's not where I left it

Yet here I find myself again
Broken
Lost
Distracted by the mere thought of living one more day
A day I will not focus on, as I waste away
Joanne Heraghty Feb 2020
I'm done, take the bag from my back.
Take the coat from my shoulders and let me fall.
All of my insecurities, all of my dreams,
Have lead me here.

Where are you in my coldest hours?
In the moments I stand still.
Broken by the shards of life that blew up in your face,
Not the ones that fell from mine.

I take each step I can, facing forward;
Etching onward, slowly and oblivious.
But you coax me to you,
You bring me back to you.

Letting go of the belief,
Of the intent I stacked up in your favour.
Letting go of it was the hardest thing,
So I couldn't do it. I never did.

Sitting in that booth, face to face:
Colours flickered, the world glitched.
Those shards of me, the broken pieces,
They trembled softly.

Each one lifted by the desire,
Troubled by the change.
I tried to collect them up,
I wanted to, more than anything.

Instead I left them there,
I did not break them further,
And I pulled myself back to reality.
Out of stillness.

And though the shards remain,
They have been smoothed at the edges.
They are not sharp to touch,
But they will never fit again.
16 January 2020

© All Rights Reserved Joanne Heraghty

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