"grotesk" poems
What do infants dream of?
Do they dream of wombs?
Places dark
and comfortable
and perfect beyond comparison.
Sedating heartbeat above regular
and comforting
like a vascular clock.
Always keeping time;
always breathing life.
Do they dream of mothers *******
Soft pillows of nurturing flesh.
The source of life on their planet.
Flowing ivory elixir,
from soft rose *******
Do they dream of us?
Of grotesk giants
that pinch cheeks
and speak in meaningless howls.
Smiling oversized faces
that clean the **** that builds below
where that sweet tube once provided life.
Gnawing white stumps
eating indigestible hunks of flesh,
or plants.
Do they understand love?
Can they dream of pure emotion?
Without the words and representations of it interfering?
I wish to be like this.
I wish to be swaddled,
to have dreams about nothing,
and real.
Dreams as pure and amazed
as a teary eyed infant.
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 2:03 AM UTC
omklamrende ligegyldighed
falsk sødme
hvem er hvor?
lysende stod du
omringet, omtåget
ubekymret? uberørt af følelserne
grotesk og ligegyldigt på samme tid
snore og livsliner og blodårer og røg
kan ens bedste og ens værste egenskab udligne hinanden?
konstant uligevægt
balancegang
besværlig ligegyldighed
vattet
hvor er vi? hvem er vi? overfor hinanden?
lysende sind, matte øjne
opgivne dagdrømme, sukkende potentiale
tung kontakt, fremmedgjort personlighed
klistret
hvem er vi? hvor er vi?
uvelkommen invitation (på eget initiativ)
robot-agtigt tvinges følelserne til at vakuum-pakke sig og fylde
intet
er vi? hvem?
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 11:28 AM UTC
I sit at my desk,
I stare with astonishing grotesk,
An assignment was due but who knew?
Certainly not me for I had been dreaming,
I was enveloped in my own little fantasy,
This fantasy was fascinatingly fantastic,
It certainly was of the best for it included dragons and magic.
Soon the dragons faded and the magic was dwindling,
They were leaving me behind because they were leaving my mind.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 9:55 AM UTC