"imbeds" poems
so..like what we discussed the other day
'to feel so infect-able'
i mean, cool concept and all but
you said you get it and-and that's how i feel
you know ; all of the time
... like my brain is open and unprotected
floods of **** other guys say or **** i read online
stuff doesn't even make sense
they're just chewing on a mouthful of teeth
and it imbeds
gets right in the jelly and sticks around
and it has nothing to do with anything
but i'll spend the day with my mood crumpled
about some nasty 'piece of shit' directors
behaviour on a film set ... when ...you know
it's not even a film i'm interested in seeing
and-and there's so much **** right at our front door
we could help with that
but.. it's this irrelevant stuff
that's what i'm occupied with
am i just that vulnerable ? i'm an adult..
i should function without this damage
... get back to me as soon as you can ; i'm freaking man !…..
you know what ?
this is what's important and this is why we talk
friends .. in the real world .. you know such as it is
...left mucking stale turns before dawning a birth
pleasing as drawing in a vital breath or something...
...i just.. i just want it back
re-sleeve me
i miss the world
why did it leave me behind ? remind me
i looked in on it and there's no **** hotel in here
no airport lounge / midnite swimming pool /
abandoned zoo / empty theatre
no hollow feeds of subway tunnels
no void on anything
where's my basic program ?
not even a grid of human planted fir trees
or a giants causeway
or some cellular honeycomb
or some mad carpet design
i lost the pattern tap
i'm off the leash man
it's all a mess
a disarray
organic chaos
a foreign something
that doesn't want me to connect
i want to live like i’m part of the solution
but each day in struggle
it seems i'm increasingly an aspect of the problem
i need to be reigned in
and reassigned a post policed
police me i croon for policing
i am untrustworthy
an emulsion of self deception
(what does that even mean ?)
spinning turns in quick fix habits
i look at these hands
and if I could dream these hands
they’d be magicians of value
get back to me man ! i miss yupping with you
this is the important stuff
- message ends
Jun 14, 2024
Jun 14, 2024 at 2:12 PM UTC
The soft egg shelled mind
is soiled and embroiled
by the terrible turmoil
of technological silence,
with a key board click
we once lost it
however now
in swift with sic stealth
the quiet imbeds itself.
Sorrowful seeds dropped
sowing painful thoughts.
Small sprouts
peek and poke out
through the surface
to catch us all
as unsettled earth
is disturbed.
Fierce floods of
painful stuff
erode the
fertile ground.
Stillness brings
crimson flowers blooming
and fruits falling
to rot on the dirt,
it hurts
but births
new verses,
till there is
poetry.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 10:39 AM UTC