"hybrids" poems
Lick the words
from my lips
let them slide down
your throat
like fruited jewels,
dark, hard candies
that melt into cream
a healing liquid
oozing into my
ventricles,
pumping milky beats
out through
your cells
permeating the deep
of my wild
My syllables will
wrap themselves
around your syntax
frothy hybrids
of buttered silk
and irony
heart-to-heart
conversations that
flow into the ether,
as heaven's night
endlessly begins
We twirl our tongues
into guttural utterings,
lustful verse
that glides from
slick-fervored ice
to an outpour
of lava
We feed each other
dreams
our saliva like honey
dripping with dawn's
tender glow
as we open up
like baby birds,
begging to be nourished
at all costs
Here,
in this lingual forest
Your breath finds a home
on my tastebuds,
my tongue
in your
cheek
In between the tumults
of our
exploding oceans
This
is how we
love
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 5:25 PM UTC
Designs and Equations
Was it the ****** Void filling
or Pandora's box opening?
Was it Victoria's secret
or was it the intellect of victors?
Was it the prowess of Hector/Hercules was it?
Was it the influence of Arthur or Har-Thor was it?
What shapes this world?
Ancient Egypt, Pyramids and the Sphinx?
Stonhenge and oblelisks?
Mystery Schools and occultism scrolls?
Crystal technology shifting poles?
Perhaps the hips and curves of a voluptuous African Queen
Perhaps the fall of Atlantis
or the secrets of the Bermuda Triangle
Perhaps the enthralling dynamics of the Photon Belt
Perhaps the mystery of Shamballa
or maybe underground bases where vortex points are
Perhaps the missing Eyepods
Maybe ancient and present advanced civilizations
Maybe it was the fall of Mars or the destruction of Maldek
Maybe the hope of Terra par DOMA
Or a design from distant super universes
or the amphibian watchers of myths
Maybe you, maybe me, maybe we
The I I I I I's of this world
however our eyes blind for we ruin this world
If we looked long enough at the light would we burn out?
If we truly listened could we hear the music of the verses unison - universes created by the Divine Creator?
would we join it/him/ness? Would we hear then Sophia being played as a harp and worlds conceived
Would we see a billion pictures as the cosmos are breathed?
and Karma come to be...
Would we learn of all life forms? Would we learn that there is more structural design than form? Would we learn that there are other mediums of activity apart from life?
Would we learn that structure is part of a larger paradigm of concentrated design?
Would we learn that universes are gardens and that there are worlds beyond the multiverse based on a hill and mountain orientation not dependant on planes?
Who shapes the world?
Our Souls from the ocean of love reincarnating?
The keepers of sacred knowledge at the temples of Golden Wisdom?
Walk-ins and starseeds? Cryptids and hybrids?
Wars or the Sun? The Peoples of the Moon or the base in Venus? The underground bases of Mars or The Order of The Phoenix?
Maybe royal and mob families?
Maybe government with all its true lies
Maybe the networks sustained by the simple minds of you and I
Whoever or whatever is responsible, either through sonic beams and energy manipulation, it is not so much the power of the Empire but rather the power we surrender.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC
The yuppies are by the
Cotto Café, asking those
not to call them hipsters.
An auburn feminist drinks
Mexican blend, black, while
reading Margaret Atwood.
I gave up smoking, I say,
about a month ago.
No one really listens, which
I sometimes find comforting.
After I walk my isolation off,
I stumble into a Taco Bell;
one of those hybrids: this time
KFC. The cashier is curly in the
way that broken legs are curly.
Her eyes are green but I dare
not objectify her, I hope I don't
say out loud, because I fear
nothing more than being
patronizing.
Construction loudly stutters
and cars squeak and shush.
On this griddle of a sidewalk,
I feel alone. Vehicles vroom
while I stand silent, a monument
to my generation.
Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 9:56 PM UTC
This one day I was awalkin' down the road,
to Chicago, winter o'seventy, worst in thirty years,
'saw this young fella in a army jacket, shiverin',
his feet was cold.
I walked up and said hello, you don't know me,
but I saw your feet was cold.
I got some dry socks and bread bags that'll
keep'm dry, you can have 'em if you will.
He said thank you, sir, real polite, but
cold feet is what I'm gettin' past,
gettin' over it wit m'mind. A guru taught me.
Ain't working is it?
I saw your feet was cold.
Nah, it ain't, now yah mention it, and I'm hungry.
So he bought me a burrito, and I told him about angels,
and how some say cold feet are symbolic,
one told me once,
many's the wish gone awanting
for lack of a reason to try.
I had cold feet, back then.
walkin' to Chicago, tryin' to. Again,
wit my mind. And bread bags, this time.
Angels, I believe in, they all are helpful as can be,
within parameters, y'understand, but evil angels,
ain't no such a thing.
Not no more any how. Jesus fixed it, came and saw,
damright, conquered war by loving and forgiving,
All while the Iron-legged montrosity from Italy,
was squishin' Jews and Christians in mud
that stuck like clay to the Iron-legged beast.
Ironic, ain't it?
You don't know? Whoa. These are the last days,
all the sealed up stuff that lion's den guy
got from the angels, messages from YodHeyVodHey,
Jesus's our father, from the prayer,
on earth as in heaven? There ain't no evil angels
in any heaven you ever imagined somebody imagined.
Loki, don't count. There's jokers in heaven.
Probably.
Mark Twain imagined a hellish heaven,
but saw no evil angels there.
They're mythic materially, literal wills o'the wisp.
The idea of evil hybrids,
that was then.
This now, now angels are all they ever were,
messages in the medium.
Mediums are something past medium now, hot or cold,
media-evil memes can manifest from a mob in the medium,
but they are bubbles,
right? Professional testers of the patience of the saints,
protesting the end of time,
so what?
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 10:24 PM UTC
We come at night because
it’s the only time we are free
and it’s the only vulnerable time
the air is stale
darkness tries to rectify this
lack of light breathing into
my blasting radio
the only sound beyond
is small and usual
crickets and nocturnal things
Spying into vacant windows from forgotten roadside
they leave some lights on, most of them
or the television
relentlessly washing empty
electronic colors over post-midnight rooms
the shallow light sustains an outlandish stability
like a sadistic pop culture nightlight
On the yard junk cars and dead farm equipment
sit out to rust
just like the child obsessed with justice
stifled
The people here withdraw to sheltered houses
they stare at screens so long
they start to reflect their own blankness
deciding what they see
until every day’s a rerun
I’d like to visit this place sleeping
lying dormant in-between layers of dream
and hybrids of unconsciousness
enter homes through passive doors
locate every lost, unwritten diary
and read them all cover to cover
would I love or hate them more
Mar 11, 2010
Mar 11, 2010 at 8:04 PM UTC
Have you killed in your dreams?
Have you been attacked in your
nightmares?
Have you ever seen Reptilian ETs chew
babies?
Have you ever seen hybrids swim in copper liquid?
Have you ever heard the Dragon Queen
giggle as evil spreads?
They **** people in some
underground bases
Have you ever imagined that you could
turn androgynous?
Have you ever been brainwashed and
programmed to work for the Shadow Men?
Have you ever witnessed messages
being sent to the silicon people?
Have you ever seen how handicapped
people are genetically engineered?
Have you ever read about how diseases are manufactured?
Have you ever seen a home break?
Have the tears of fallen women ever
dripped on you?
Have you ever seen a heart of
unconditional love tear?
Has it ever occurred to you that we are locked in 3D?
Has it ever occurred to you that we are
mind-controlled slaves?
Did you know that poverty is
manipulated?
Did you know that wars are a way to make profit?
Did you know that our lives are
planned and we work for mob and
royal families who own banking
cartels?
Have you ever shared giggles with the
devil?
Have you ever seen how humans are
used for scientific and medical
experiments?
Did you know that advanced life forms feed on the energy of humans?
Have you ever seen witches at peak
hour?
And the cat cries like a baby, and you're
crying out somebody save me
Have you ever been invited to hell and cities of gold?
Tell me, would you be a soldier bold
when all these evil stories are told?
Do you know Evil?
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 4:17 AM UTC
My roots aren't here
They never were
I planted some crops
But they were imported
An ideal situation this land may be
To the adaptable, changing and innovative breeds
It is habitable to the natives and hybrids that are able to flourish
But me, my roots come from a different tree
They belong somewhere else
They always have
I can survive in new elements
But only with proper care and chemicals
The artificial adaptations eventually take their wear
And usually from the inside out
Without the natural nourishment I whither
So as thankful as I am for a land that harvested growth
It is essential to my survival that I find my proper home
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
Apocalyptic...
Dreading thy screams.
Blood on the hearth,
Of all evil beings.
The gates have opened,
So comes the war.
Where Dragons and demons,
**** each other for sport.
Apocalyptic,
Valkyries spread their wings.
They bang their drums,
Matching their heart beat.
This is a time to defend,
Thy precious country.
They are warriors of God.
Light... and Divine.
Now comes the start,
Of demons awakening within.
The hybrids are known.
To only their kin.
Apocalyptic
Warriors awaken their soul.
May their hearts burn,
Like a phoenix through it all.
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 12:04 AM UTC
Ask me what I want to do, go fish
if I had a genie, it’s what I would wish
in the lake, river, creek or pond
eagerly cast next to a fern frond
Wiggle my bait and work it some more
hoping a fish cannot ignore
flipping up under docks
or the edges of piles of rocks
Working the tree stumps
waiting on a big thump
on my lure, adrenaline pumps
waiting for the end of my rod to jump
Bass, on Carolina, Alabama, or Texas rigs
crappie and pan fish I’ll catch on a jig
white bass and hybrids, on slabs and spoons
I have even caught them casting at loons
Sam Rayburn, Cedar Creek or Lake Fork
I’m getting excited just like a dork
Tawakoni, Amistad, or Nacogdoches
if I ran out of bait, man I would use roaches
Livingston, Stryker, or the Trinidad Lake
catching some fish, fry them up on a plate
bait cast, and spin cast, pushbuttons oh wow
I also can fly-fish, I taught myself how
Gar, carp and buffalo, anything that bites
looking for something to make my line tight
Matagorda, or Galveston, or Port A
I have no problems fishing the bay
Intercoastal waterway or out in the surf
no problems cooking surf and turf
Black drum, Red fish or Speckled trout
as long as they’re biting I’ll never pout
Whiting, and Croakers and even Hardheads
catching are fun, getting the slime off you dread
gaff tops are pretty, but just as slimy nasty
I’ve never had any, I hear their pretty tasty
Flounders are flat and so are sting rays
but if that’s what’s biting I’ll fish everyday
jacks, and mackerel and bonnet head sharks
so many fish in the ocean, that’s just a start.
How about invasives, silver carp and snakeheads
cast for the snakehead, jumping carp in a net
I’ve fished lots of bass, native and Florida strain
but there is one thought that sticks in my brain
Is I’d like to go catch some peacock bass
top water action would really kick ***
catch and release or serve it up in a dish
as you can see I really love to fish
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 9:36 AM UTC
I see you see me through the seams and beams of time and space
Long-Haired tall pale one
I acknowledge your efforts to communicate with me telepathically
Telling me about a world within a world
that on this Earth there is a space
which is a haven for light beings and truth seekers
in this world threaded with beams and bolts
where evil is spread like chewing gum
where man is turned into sheep through dumbing ***
I see you sitting on a cliff
in a world stars and skies away from ours
I heard you say that buildings would fall
I heard you say that beings from under would stand out
I see your hope for the human race
and if the Divine still believes in us we have a place
But this is a fight that must be fought with spirit
Weapons are merely instruments to destroy figments of chaos
the true instruments are in the heavenly basement
where worlds were dreamed
and it started with a band you see
big bang the ****** void opening
polarization with a band member rebelling
and a universal game created
and galaxies were governed
councils were formed and there were uniforms
hybrids created to mediate
across the planes, planets colonized
some beings unevolved and lost destroy, others preach the Law Of One Rise
******* or star dust
an interaction of fusion far beyond our understanding
it was music that began it all
harps and all strings, the rainbow piano
it started with a band and science calls it a bang
but merely a ****** as worlds are created within the creation continuum
and the greatest message from the long haired tall one: "Speak the truth, find your whole, defend the music for for your race it is home".
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 11:17 PM UTC
for the midnight reader
the bottom feeder
alien *******
that harvests anew
hybrids born in silent scorn
dna run askew
replicant son has artificial recall
dreams of freefall
into abyss
kiss me Rachel
hold me like you would
a lover
discover
that we are faded copies
of a once proud thought
a once original dream
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 12:49 AM UTC
We're anything and everything but atypical.
Anorexia. Bulimia. OSFED, binge or orthorexia.
Hell, there's even hybrids now: diabulimia.
There's a name for every demon I've eaten. For the thing that lives inside of me; feeding off of starvation.
There's power in it. You know, the kind of sick courage that comes from skipping meals and counting calories.
Lower numbers, lower anxieties.
When you're thin it's an eating disorder, they say.
When you're fat it's called a diet, they say.
We're surviving on pills and Coke Zero. This isn't the 80's, honey, SlimFast doesn't work as well as two fingers do.
I was taught that pain is beauty, but laxatives on an empty stomach are far from pretty.
I don't want to be beautiful, I want to be nothing. Not a thing in this world. What do I want?
To be like an Angel: perfection on the inside and out.
To be both powerful and protected. In control and out of it.
Is this Schrodinger's eating disorder?
It goes deeper than food. Farther than the veins; blue and translucent underneath my skin.
I'm cold and gone, honey. This thing has got a hold on me.
I'm water, tea, early mornings and late nights. Scales, chewing gum and breath mints.
I'm crushed by the weight hanging off of my bones, and I don't know how to get better.
Nov 22, 2017
Nov 22, 2017 at 4:39 PM UTC
A crossbreed will evolve its truth:
Such facets crafted my design.
I re-exchange, manipulate
Until the age, true fashion finds.
Postmodern wars are pedigrees,
I transpose notes to aptly fit
A sequence feigned mathematically—
Given new meanings I have writ.
It’s not an art, which fates betide,
It has suppressed no cataclysm.
The scheme to cancel and destroy—
We’ll never be obliterated.
The architect contrives such things,
The artist coins it impromptu;
But hybrids can construct those things,
New definitions—institute.
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 3:24 PM UTC
You know if you tried to describe life
The last few hours
You wouldn't possible be able to describe went on
Well I went to the driving range
Then went for a walk at my old college
Then drove home
So much happened in that period
I hit it well
7 irons, wedges, hybrids, drivers
Behind, down and out to the target
Making that just short of 3/4 swing now
For accuracy
One must be accurate in golf
Sultans of swing was playing in the background
A guy hit on a different part of the range hit a ball
And it hit this metal bin
And the ball rolled right up to where I was hitting
Sweet an extra ball for me to hit now (lol)
I saw the older gentleman at the range
Who always works there
I hope he is well
He goes through the motions
Watering the plants
Puts the ***** into the machine
I see him hanging out with some of his friends there sometimes
So then I went into the car and turned on the radio
I arrived at my old campus just a 2 minute drive directly to the south
I had a great time walking around campus
I had my back brace
My knee braces
Yes, one should brace oneself
I turned on Kashmir
By Led Zeppelin
As I walked through the parking lot
And its strange you know
I felt like I was walking on air
It really is a world of wonderful happenings
And its me
Its me that has to bring the joy
The love to all sentient beings
I must bring the love
I thought about that
I made my way to the library
Where I read an article
In Scientific American
About a pacemaker that contains a gear
That is used in a wristwatch
That is powered by the heartbeat
I saw a pretty woman
And thought it must be nice to have a friend to talk to
Bleh
She would just be bothered if I went up to her
I walked around campus
This one girl was shocked to see a raccoon
I saw three of them once
All feeding from a trash bag
I took pictures
Then I walked to my car
And drove off listening to U2
From one time
To the next
The emptiness remains
Dream world
Row row row your boat
Gently down the stream
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 1:02 PM UTC
Recircled czars drenched
In the blood of despotic swayers.
Encircled proteges with the
Aura of treacherous thorns
Keeping vigils in the basilica
Of authority
Year in,
Year out .
Selfsame partners in politics,
Selfsame partners in crimes,
Selfsame partners in progress
Selfsame partners in poor
governance,
Setting subservient subjects
In perilous bays of hopelessness.
Scale of disengagement
Dangling carrots of
Intimidating threats.
Recircled ideas.
Recircled inhuman governance.
Recircled personages.
Recircled wasted years.
Deluge of prognostic plans
Sinking boats of tale.
Decades of experience yielding
Inexperienced tzars.
Torn garb of treachery
Covered up blazers of falsehood.
Stench of stasis enthroned on the
Stool of power, wrenching
corruption from the grip
of guilt.
Populace sitting on sulky
directing the horse of
hardship with the
wailful whips of
perseverance.
Epochal terms of wastages
roll in
and
roll out
like a spiraling
viperine grass
snake
beneath the
hybrids of weeds
on a crest of
spring cress.
Yet, promises promoting
Superannuated gains of
Effortless dividend.
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 2:53 PM UTC
"Escaping the sickness"
~
Monsters blooming in black pearls
Beaded neatly on bended spine
Darkness entwining themselves
Between the branches of copper wings
A story is bursting
Ripe with blood tipped tales
Memories buried in a jar of apocryphal dreams
Human is set in poisoned jewels
Sparkling on Pandora's box
Stymphalian birds emerge from metallic ink
Plucking the monsters off spine
Their metal wings clashing against conscious
Silk beaks opening and closing
Shedding layers of nightmares into onyx ribbons
Human is dipped in a rising sun
Soaked with light
A gold aorta butterfly buries itself in honey blood
Skeletal bones bent
Connecting
Electric pulses bloom
Between tangled veins
Where an orbit heartbeat throbs magic
Into curved muscles
Hybrids are the new fashion
Human smile is tucked in a moon drip
Glazed with a thin strip of happiness
The woods are hollow
The path of thorns melting
The scent of healing is strong
Human takes a deep sniff
Then morphs into a lullaby
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 4:31 AM UTC
I know that this is hard on you
I really feel your pain
Not physically or mentally but
through the inking you paint
on that page of your mistreatings,
of what this species did to your
Innocent and beauty being.
I'm truly cut deep by this and I,
know it's most probably an infinite nightmare and
I'm quite scared for the, future if this is how some men view a
woman and think they can run free and do a re-fvck up
I'm really disgusted with dudes who reveal colours that
paint the world unsafe for our only hope of a loved one .
Man, **** 'em , but it really should be taught to all the lot
That it's okay sometimes to not know and learn from those who've got
knowledge on the thing , and not just push and shove 'em like a box
it's scary how the man has had this illusion that he's superior
now this same illusion is making hard headed animals
Loud nothings upon their heads ringing like alarms in mid
Dream sequence and these issues are just like a parable they knock
Out of the way and make no mistake, they take this thing little a lot
But what do I know. I just want change for our kings and queens
so godly they are hybrids and carry their dreams
in face of more adversity than we could ever endure
I'd to say, from deep inside my core of cores, on behalf of all the boars
that I truly apologize and prayers for y'all are more.
and that's just the two cents from your boy.
Aug 12, 2016
Aug 12, 2016 at 3:52 AM UTC
believe me
i’m not dark
actually, I’m quite frothy
like foam that teases your lips
when you take the first sip of coffee
or the bubbles that catch your eye
when a nymph child plays
ivory keys that your fingers caress
as you make music out of me
or the decadent glimmering of a crystal
that creates kaleidoscopes in the sunshine
i’d melt the icing on a cinnamon roll
and lick it off your nose
or say your brows are caterpillars
and giggle myself silly
i’ll tickle your kneecaps
and poke your sides until you collapse
the child coalesced with the woman
the medical student coalesced with the artist.
Beautiful hybrids.
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 9:48 AM UTC
You can justify
With lust in your eye
Give them lesbians
Their rights
Cause their a pleasurable sight
I guess it’s a start
You say it’s ok to be gay
Just don’t hit on me
Cause I’m straight
I believe you have the right
To fight
For said rights
But can you keep the pda
In a private place
I guess it’s a start
But when it’s not clearly defined
In your limited mind
When you can’t classify
Between a girl and a guy
You forget to be fair
Don’t bother to be nice
Then I remember
We got a long way to go
Justice is brutal
And to **** slow
Breaks my heart
Cause corruption and prejudice
Are easier than fairness
Gay lovers
Hold hands with each other
In public
Don’t give a ****
******** will keep
Keeping us stuck
Be proud to kiss
Don’t give two *****
I love you
But we have such a long way to go
Lesbians
I am sorry
For the lustful leers
The years of fears
Struggling through to
Be you
Remember
I love you to
But we have a long way to go
Transgender, Transvestite, ***********
Honey you are beautiful
Androgynous, bisexual
Human hybrids
And all those wonderful things
Outside and In-between
Can’t say it enough
You need to know you are loved
But we have a long way to
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 8:13 AM UTC
Cedar Creek Fishing Back in the day
flipping under docks and casting all day
nosing out my buddy trying to win the bet
it’s a dollar a fish and it’s not over yet
Catching bass and crappie and sometimes a perch
driving the boat always on the search
for the next big bass, or sometimes a beer
fishing lights after dark on the end of a pier
White bass and hybrids, pulling hard on the line
laughing and joking and feeling fine
slabs and traps, and a Texas rig
every now and then just taking a swig
Tequila sunrise worms or watermelon seed
the fish are biting and are on a feed
describing a bite pulling on my buddies sleeve
casting in my spot is a big pet peeve
All-star rods, worm bag that’s full
casting out waiting on the Tap, Tap, Pull
set the hook, watch the fish tail walk
it’s been a great day out on the stalk
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 10:12 AM UTC
if you're asking me to be subhuman
give me a plot-line, i'd find one among the Zimbabweans
a minute later, but give me a plot-line,
i just want to know the hierarchy from now on...
a Dutch spat in a Polish girl's face...
give me the ******* plot-line! or is this one of those moments
where you say: ja zapomnieć mówienia po polsku.
oh, you're one of those hybrids?!
should have told me sooner!
how's the Sunday roast treating you?
it's a bit dry, i admit, typical Pole-lack...
fights for independence from the Rus and the Prus
and then gets **** with the **** that pays him...
like some Chilean **** of a fake shaman,
or some Afro, gets ****** on all fours
for posterity being the reasonable standard...
has no pride, no ulterior motive, just sits there
expecting relief without working for it,
what a lucky bunch of beetroots, chequers in cheek,
rosy, the next flush of hope in casual conversation
estimating the standards of non-racial involvement
inside post-Saxony is Ulster -
they really want retards and are anti-bilingual,
the same plague that met the Normans, the Cnut
brigadiers, they want inbreeding, but as the ladies
say: better Paki-pickup-grooming than a white
boy fanciful of romance... ain't that a pretty sight...
had to revolve upon the thick-skinned ones...
the ones who would't sue...
but with us Russia... ***** whipped by Jews and
cinnamon skinned ones are we? ***** - you said it,
i'm reaffirming;
you could have been colonial with them -
i won't let your colonial subjects turn colonial on me!
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 10:16 PM UTC
Attuned to the ligaments of her passing mood
the contortionist shows her teeth to the dust,
In East London by Singapore, Hong Kong
all of those places-
Bow legs rip open the universe, in one
style, then, the practice meditates inside her again
Haemorrhage blue curtains warp into several layers of eyes
so that her knees dance up past her molasses joy
The tube-stations scream, the cadillacs sing,
the catacombs crack their knuckles and laugh
The chieftains know in time that all sand is red
as the sepulchres pass into and with her mouth
The Camden markets shake into hybrids of summer;
the neophyte ways that a bat breaks down a tree, eats its coal-
And I wish that people would stop hanging her,
like a dead man with bad breath from a branch
And using the symbol for their own gains, limiting fear
which numbers their tongue in fermenting numbers;
She is just one fly whizzing from one tree
to the next.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC