"hardwired" poems
The Feminine Core
Without it, Earth is no Earth.
I, Fathima—the primeval woman—have no doubt:
the circle of prophets is my witness—
I touched the bottom of her waters.
Zeroed into her zero-neigh,
circled it with my hair,
and laid down her foundation,
hardwired with my circle.
Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 10:59 PM UTC
blood from Gods spill
soaks the forest floor
her Holy release
gimme more petrichor
take a hit
lose control
your hardwired
dontcha know?
sweat it out
carried away
blood from stone
the hard way
slow mo
throttle it back
when the sky pours
mother absorbs
face down
one with earth
this sacred interface
our right from birth
blood from Gods spill
soaks the forest floor
redemption salvation
my sweet petrichor
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 10:14 AM UTC
If it smells dead, it probably is
Rot makes no mistakes
I sit and spin my wheels and it takes
Everything inside of me
To rid myself of her stink
Seventeen years of parental nurture
Two weeks of preying in search for;
Only six minutes of squeezing to be
Left only to be filth again
Passed over and forgotten
Are my words too heavy for your song?
Sing loudly so I can hear you
Again, my pale skinned love
As I hover above and sweat into your mouth
Quiet swan song sung, splash of **** all too loud
Calm I grow as from you, I take my cue
Does my breath not fog glass as much as yours?
If I crawl away now, I won't appear to move.
Silently shaking and praying in search for
Something less living, something less grand
Bedside stories told to you once at night
A lone little light plugged in low by your closet
You feared the wrong monsters, and I felt that fright
It clung to the air; you were my first as by my hand.
But my hand pulls away now--
My fingers hardwired, pulling, reaching
For something warm to touch
And you were warm once, too
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 4:50 AM UTC
There’s a brilliant world of words and wine
Hidden behind the curtain:
A barrier of stares and smiles
Shyly given, modestly strained.
Each subtle push
Met with an even gaze.
Tell me more about yourself -
Your secrets
Your lies
Your favorite memories
Your darkest times.
There’s much more here
Than society allows we breach
On a first date meeting
In the middle of the week.
Sure, you swiped right
And that means you think I’m cute
But do we have a connection
Deeper than this Champagne flute?
I don’t want to talk about the weather
Or what your roommates do.
This isn’t an ad on craigslist,
You have nothing to prove.
Now you’re checking your phone
At every silence
*** we’re hardwired to our handheld
Asylum.
And if we aren’t leaving together
The night's been a bust.
No gain, no loss, no truths to wrestle -
No point finding a soul
In a hollow vessel.
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 3:51 PM UTC
Down by the river
Fog dances and swirls
To mists in thought
Down by the river
Swims the desires
we keep hidden deep
Down within the river
Flows the hardwired
reality that speaks
Dance fleet shadows
of souls heavenly
they seek
Down by the river
ache and heartbreak
forms swirling clouds
Down by the river
rising from the tears
we weep loud
Let us dance
our lives radiant , free . . .
Down by the river
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 11:43 PM UTC
the pull of a stare
a flicker of sparks
eyes meet so sweet
caught in the stare
cheek to lips a gentle brush
desire delivers in the click of a lock
hands clutch tight on your neck
a gripping strength, a slow squeeze
the mind dazed, a hunt to breathe
hardwired impulse, to a raw surging force
reaching, touching, the rise stricken
claws at hands in a grip
the steadfast capture
enforce of an iron reap
the heat and hiss of a monster
sounds a sharp slice in your ear
tears fall for God’s wretched care
the kiss dry's upon your cheek
final is so clear
a silent suffocation
an impression sincere
pain defends the will to suffer
wounds heal and fade
separates the mind free to fear
a look of your outline is everywhere
turning quick to catch the heavy stare
caught off guard bows down to despair
the power deprived is no longer mine
broken twisted places it deep inside
drowning beneath a shallow surface
paralyzed by the danger of your kiss
stopped by a red light remembrance
fingers still search and retrace
the dignity ravaged in a waste
incapable of trust
I live buried alive
I look for you everywhere
I sleep on the furthest edge of a cliff
I wake trespassing the abyss
Terry D'Arcy-Ryan
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 10:37 AM UTC
~
*Optimize
Arborize
Centralize
Personalize
Give recognition its own library
Its own USB port
An evening of multiple connections
Hardwired and soothingly modem
Transmits my thoughts into you
I know your voice
I know your body
And how they work together
To leave a clear network to my heart*
~
May 18, 2023
May 18, 2023 at 5:26 PM UTC
We've been having such a good time out here lately
chasing chasing chasing this summer to the end
of its life,
and it's about time we took half a handful of
something decent to calm our nerves, breathe slow
in and out just like we practiced when
the stars hid their faces and we decided
the nights were getting short and we'd
better hide ours, too.
and I know our brains will always be
a little bit hardwired for self destruction,
but before you go digging around again
in old scraps searching for new ways to place blame, new ways to fit
our shoulders with damage & **** counts,
take this down off the shelf
take a deep breath and hand
me the blueprints.
Sometimes I trip over my tongue when I speak, sometimes I forget and just
mumble instead,
and sometimes I tear out stiches too early
sometimes I don't get what I want and I blame myself
hate myself for thinking that we all have to come to terms with our own
versions of crash-and-burn fairytales,
but isn't that the truth of it all? If this
brutal reality doesn't shake us and stir
the dust from our bones, nothing will;
no morning or afterlife can save us until
we stop sharpening our teeth and put down our steel blades
nothing is made forever, but forever
is made up of a lot of nothings,
the way we stir the *** on our bad (or good) days is only one of them;
the way we tell ourselves we aren't important is a lie
don't whisper this into my ears at dusk,
scream it into the sky
scream it into the palms of your hands until you can't breathe anymore,
it has never been better, it has never been worse
work your desires into your
DNA coding
detonate what's left in your system
(start over again)
I'm finding new ways to stand still on this high balancing beam
new rituals and new ways to throw my hat off to you,
give credit where credit is due
I only hope that when it's said and done
and I'm on my way out
I'll know half of what I do right now,
feel it surging in my headrush & in the burn
of my fingers
I hope I'll know on my way out the door:
Nothing has ever been better and nothing has ever been worse.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 11:41 PM UTC
everything was so mundane,
no sound,
no name.
the silence watched over us like a hawk,
resting it’s talons on the trees above.
there was no thud,
no beat,
no reverb.
the machines did not whir,
or click,
or crackle.
the strings never hummed,
the girl never sang,
and the child never played.
neurons following a set circuit,
run,
stop,
go.
the sun always set,
yet it had never risen.
hardwired to the equipment,
but the machine never worked,
because the processor was coated in a mundane molasses.
moving through gray honey,
black and white retinas perceive gray things
for our slow-moving hands to paint.
the words were the same,
the day never changed,
it was, and always will be
the same.
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 6:47 AM UTC
My little blue dress hangs in my closet now, and my black ribbon is around my wrist and not my hair. I've cut my long blonde hair shorter, and my childhood fantasies are a mere haunting that reach to me at night, reminding me of who I am.
I once dreamt of you as a wonderland, a place of fear and magic and horror that I would suffer a thousand lives to feel a moment of.
Then I grew older, and recognized that this wasn't a wonderland; or perhaps, it was, but not quite the wonderland I was thinking of. This wonderland had a name, a name that came with frightening connotations.
Bipolar.
Those fantastical moments in which I was flying, in which nothing but the flowers could sing with me as I danced in a purple field of wonder. Where the bluebells kissed my hands and the crochet was with hedgehogs and the pond behind my house was much more than it seemed.
Bipolar.
Each corner I turned in which a shadow hid behind, shadows I could only see and that chased me through the darkness unto the stairs and into my bed, holding me tight and strangling me until I woke up and realized everything was ok.
Bipolar.
Each friend I made as a child at night that wasn't tangible, though we shook hands and danced and read books together as if we were real. As if anything was real.
Bipolar.
It was a game I was playing that I didn't know was hardwired into my brain, that this wasn't just Grace and her wonderland, it was something darker, deeper. But alas, that's how it is as you age, isn't it?
Wonderland gets darker with each visit, and with each day it grows closer to me. Its terrifying how it may begin to affect others, others i love, but there's not much I can do, is there?
My one wish is that there will not be another blonde little girl, with my green eyes and my blue dress, finding herself stumbling into a wonderland that she cannot handle.
If it means I can never have the one thing I want more than anything, then I am willing to sacrifice everything to protect that little girl.
I will never lead another little girl into wonderland.
Never.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
3D print me into
something real, impulsive
and distinguished.
successive layers
built around a
pulse and backbone.
fused electrons hardwired
to my brain like therapy.
we are broken and
the sum of our spare parts.
©Ben Ditmars 2014
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 1:15 AM UTC
I cultivated something under the snow
Sewed it deep to watch it grow
I felt the roots take and the warmth on my face
Resonating from the hearts I had froze
I shuddered against the intense heat
Battling my soul within a heartbeat
The seconds pass but the moments last
As the past slowly puts me to sleep
And of what should I dream but the bloodless seeds
And their chilled heartbeat from underneath
The silence sweeps as I wake and weep
And reflect, I respect that I cut too deep
And your demons escaped
But in my defense, recompense was achieved,
You did bleed, but never believed in Band-Aid
And every hand laid against you was desired
You're hardwired for self-defeat
I crush myself amidst my own callous hate
Bringing to light a dreadful new fate
With scars that burn and the images they create
Collapsing, falling under the massive weight
And suddenly you surround me
Making it difficult to breathe
But all the lies you never did believe
A layer of doubt hidden beneath
Typically speaking, you never say what you mean
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC
Sunday newspapers continue to gather fragile New England snow on the curbside,
a stomping ground for purgatory, the home for these roller-coaster thoughts.
i'm not much for small talk.
my clothes are always inside out and i'm raging losing battles with my steel-toed tear ducts-
steel, as
grunting is a masculine expression,
and so i'll lift weights,
but gain no strength, just aches of all of the intimacy that I've never allowed myself to emit or absorb.
a soggy sponge,
a rotten oak stump,
fallen leaves-
a childhood meal coming back up over the fists and the heaves.
counter-intuition,
the alcohol binds the seams;
tear ducts are dams
and everyone needs a method of additional reinforcement.
numbness and empty-mindedness aside, I'm
still a make-shift dumpster lover,
hardwired, disassociated hinge-sucker.
too sensitive to open the window blinds or morning newspaper,
there is still no muscle definition, only
liver damage.
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 1:08 PM UTC
I want to be someone different.
I've always been quiet
Only talk if I'm comfortable around you.
Very small, I never stand straight
That requires confidence,
I've never had much of that.
But that's not who I wanna be.
I want to be outgoing, participate more
I want to have confidence,
Be able to stand tall and proud
Talk louder, and be sure of myself.
But I can't.
I have hardwired my brain
Into being this way.
Acting the same as I have since
the very first grade.
It's not as easy as it looks,
To stand tall, be outgoing.
To know who you are
And be comfortable in your own skin
When you've trained yourself to be this way.
Like I have.
I don't know another way
to talk, act, or walk.
I'm small, shy, and I do try
To slouch away from things I don't know.
From people who might criticize.
Maybe one day,
When I'm older, and I know more
About who I am
And about who I do and don't want to be,
Maybe then I'll be the person I truly feel that I could be.
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
creeping fingers,
crawling hands,
innocent at first--
innocent? not likely--
malicious more like.
the purity of your
polystyrene soul,
the unremitting cleanse,
the repent(the chase),
it's your lifeline. the
shocked look, saccharine power
held over tiny fawn--
****** clarity as they might,
oh dear incubus.
the power to end all
held in tiny fists.
this births not demon babes,
but a century of fear
and inadequacy.
downy kittens hardwired with
an inevitable self-destruct.
bring the world to it's knees,
incessant, indefatigable pathogen,
taking grasp of neurons, synapses.
good intentions yearned for the green light
while yours-- red as the blood rose
manifests in lovely lips
for eternity stained with **** wine--
the wine you brewed, you fermented
in the cellar of ********** and hatred.
the father, the son, and the holy spirit,
and the things that lie between.
blessed fingers, blessed breath
freezes as the stiff arms of your diocese.
hushed catholic whisper, angels to never
nearly achieve their wholly holy grail--
your kryptonite. secret looks, hasty deliverance,
catharsis.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 1:47 AM UTC
hop skip and away
i'm flying today
feather in the air
i'm lighter, spark, fire
dare me to stay
but i just can't wait
i want to take to the skies
and see what i can find
hold on tight if you're in for the ride
want to see the whole world
see every fountain, river, mountain
lets explore open doors
step through find something new
no fear, any scrape or bruise
is an opportunity to grow
so
what do you say?
the only thing that could make this better
is if we're in this together
but i won't wait its now or never
you shouldn't have to think
so in a blink adios, te recordare!
so i take to the skies floating breeze
i want to be surprised at the colors
of the fish in the sea, and take a second
to see if there really is that many
or do i need to go fishing right now?
don't think i could stop if i tried
cause a fishy in the sea can
hook line and sinker this heart
if and when they're ready to sprout wings and
take to the skies floating breeze
sail overdrafts with me
jungles of Brazil to the city of Pair-ee
i've a heart meant for dancing,
beaches, culture, romancing
try anything once, most things twice
food, trees, and drinks are my vices
music is my ******* but it keeps me sane
so we just won't consider that a con
cause i'm pro-grammed hardwired
to move my feet to the beat of life
it may skip and shuffle sometimes
but thats the spice to the sugar
cause everything nice gave Jane a dull life
taking to the skies floating breeze
stop for a game of futbol no referees
play til sundown lay on the ground
catch my breath take a rest
open my eyes to watch the stars
turn the sky into my own lightshow
no cover charge
i want to see if they're in reach
so i take to the skies floating breeze
every different tree a different melody
now you're ready to explore with me?
consider yourself lucky i can recognize harmony
lets come together and find our rhythm
we make a beautiful song
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 3:09 PM UTC
Today, I woke up to a flesh fair.
Dresses are getting shorter, sometimes there just not there.
More cleavage than ideas, more muscles than compassion.
More media coverage of 'age appropriate' than how to feed the world!
Our bodies are beautiful and nature has hardwired us to know this.
But, know that our bodies preceeded our existence, your ***** bone is not taboo!
You strip your clothes and strip yourself bare whilst you hide under a 1000 layers.
Let's shift focuss from what was always there!
Nakedness can save us, if only we were willing to face the cold.
Pull on your Wolly jumpers, open your mouth to bare your soul.
Weaver a fabric of intimacy, a patchwork connection of trust and honesty.
Shed all the ugliness of media gorged, superficial controversy.
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 11:46 AM UTC
The frail nature of the soul
makes for confused company,
especially in
a world of moving fingertips
clicking precious-time away.
Passions run deep &
our minds travel
in nanoseconds,
we grasp glimpses
of each others worlds
on the dark side of the moon.
Yet, we still remain
a million miles away,
trapped in cyberspace,
endlessly flowing.
We forget
the contact,
the touch of our lips,
those loving-arms
embraced around our hearts,
human reactions,
only to remember
genuine frustration,
continual loneliness
& isolation.
Seems forever we look
for super nova,
remaining hardwired,
inspired.
And hopefully,
we never lose
faith,
hope or love
traveling like this,
missing kisses.
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 4:43 AM UTC
Since I have poetic license
and don't get out much at all.
I sometimes think of words as people
- it beats talking to the wall.
So I had a chat with "Friend" today
after one or several Brews
Thanks to social sites like Facebook
"Friend" is often in the news.
"Friend" you're looking tired,
Exhausted, overused.
People have abused you
like they'd treat a rented mule.
Folks who'd be acquaintances
back in the days of yore,
are now best friends forever
and we have them by the score.
Our brains are not hardwired
to handle friendships by the score
Our mundane lives no longer private
either "liked" or, worse, ignored.
"Friend" has suffered from inflation
like the dollar now and then
Both seemed once to have value
comparing now to way back when.
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 2:44 PM UTC
Being sad for me is an experience.
I don't know if it's different from how everyone else's
But I if it's just like your sadness then I'm so ******* sorry
Because sadness for me isn't feeling down or being weighed down by this feeling
It's like being on fire
But on the inside
It's like being stabbed by something that doesn't hurt
Then feeling this cold fire spread through my body
Like a wild fire being winded out by my thoughts
Or frostbites all over my body being thawed and frozen again
Being sad feels so heavy and prominent that I'm not even sure if my happiness is real
If it's really there
Or if it's just the a sense of sadness
I feel disgusted by myself whenever I fake a smile or a laugh or even saying "I'm ok"
I wanna cover my mouth with my hands every time someone ask me if I'm ok because I'm hard wired to say that I am
Being sad is already so ******* painful that I've grown up being used to keeping it in instead of telling people about it
Because I don't want to let anyone in
I don't want anyone to see the wildfire through my soul
I don't want them to see me frozen up
Because I'll hate myself either way
If they burn themselves up to thaw me out
I'll hate myself
If I drown them out when I douse this down
I'll hate myself
And if I saw them carry any part of my sadness to help me
I'll hate myself
I'm so hardwired to not let anyone in that I can't let anything out without destroying everything an everyone around me
Being sad for me is an experience.
I don't know if it's different from how everyone else's
But if you feel the same thing as me
What would you do?
What should I do?
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 6:53 AM UTC
My fingertips sweep across these subtle indentations
Tracing her serial number
A traumatic and numbing truth
copy written and branded on a tiny scar
just below her microscopic transistor
voice box
The shallow intake of oxygen into
recycled plastic lungs recycling air
either for realism or function
felt just as alluring
when they whispered into my ear
Her hardwired ducts always produced
tears that hurt just as much
even if it was programmable and on command
Losing the warm caress of her polymer skin
was just as painful
even though underneath was only cellular service
and not cellular growth
I swore to my friends that she wasn't like
any other I've ever loved
but as I push the lifeless shell of this
all too perfect woman into the muck caked
dumpster
I think to myself
Maybe I would have had better luck with
a name brand
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
right before your
cotton candy eyes
it all falls apart
you worked so hard
positioned your
corpse six feet deep
only to find out
you missed the
pearly white gates by
a couple of inches
and someone heard
the tapping of your heels
against fresh lamented
wood floors
and told his brother
and her sister
that you were alone
and vulnerable
and so you hid behind
the tanks, lit the fuse
and watched the battleground
explode into tiny fragments
of new beginnings
made the best of loss
is what you did
but the others knew better
than to let this peace go on
much longer
thus the internal
struggle continued;--
licking your sweet lips
until they parted,
you revealed gaps in
hardwired teeth
and they never
looked so beautiful
as they did now
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 1:42 AM UTC