"implanting" poems
It's funny how
I cannot seem
to find a care
or worry
in the world
as soon as
the sound of
your lighthearted laughter,
your gleeful giggling
reverberates against
my eardrums,
implanting all of its
melodious magic
deep within my soul.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 12:13 AM UTC
No reason to be precious about it,
it's best to just be blunt,
she's got a helluva ****
I could wax poetic, swooning like a
love-drunk boy, but what's the point?
Sharing, expressing, defining the spell
is futile. *** with her is like
dancing with god.
Finally, at fifty, I feel the
vibration of lovesongs.
Not in my ears, deeper than any sense can taste.
Lost for hours in life, in bonding; finally
knowing the only knowledge worth knowing
She teaches by just being.
Responding, absorbing, inspiring,
implanting new sensations and
bringing me out of me.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 9:42 PM UTC
Of immaterial vision birthed in mind.
Of spirit annihilating the selves,
of calling it plan. The one-
a semblance scattered on deck space
refracts on reflections of the reactions of tokens
of the carnivalesque,
of the hunger artists,
of phenomenon-
which may or may not exist depending on reflective surface of the true self,
of the motion of tides,
mocks motion in body,
of obsession.
The tonality of the "be" and the "is" and the "will be" is deafened by the "I am,"
by the Ohm.
Of shuddering and implanting embraces,
of blessing on every ember of cleanliness that is true self,
of the oneself that exists above selective memory,
not draft of time arrow but the material existence of dream,
not disembodied but embodied.
Of breeding,
of circumstance and forking fourth dimension prison terms,
of crowd control,
of she wolves and their feral children,
of forceps interpolating material reality of conception,
of Dreamtime,
of pain,
of pleasure,
where they are relations-
of skin perversely hanging, dually,
gratifying and sullying-
Fraying beautiful disasters that react to invisible ripples
I, the oneself, implore you to awaken in your utility and then outside of it.
Take those boot straps and bend the bars of confinement with them.
Chisel and sculpt light into a fabrication of quantum of action.
Celebrate the ordinary and expose it.
Of stargazed caustics,
of the early universe.
I stand awake as not the expression of design
and no longer connected to Earth by my roots
but awake inside cocoon,
entrapped behind slits,
of alien cage otherness.
The Akh beseeches ownership of the Ba
I want play dice with god and end in draw.
I am Sekhmet-Wadjet who dwells in the west of heaven,
I am Sahyt among the souls of Of.
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 1:29 AM UTC
I used to be scared of monsters under my bed
Now I'm just scared of the ones in the mirror
Sometimes I wish I could just be dead
Than seeing them come closer and closer
Each and every day, they misled
Made me think I was a horror
Implanting these thoughts in my head
That I needed to be better
That I needed to be taller,
That i should be prettier,
That i needed to be skinnier.
Those monsters in the mirror,
they were actually just myself
Speaking the truth, reading the thread
Of society's standards, inside my head
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 5:02 PM UTC
Where the whole that was
has finally
fragmented,
descending in an open, unremarkable blaze.
And so pieces of me shall collide
with the ground,
implanting fractures
few shall discern.
And the winds of days
and nights will continue to
persuade the dirt unto me
so my morose roots will not grow,
infesting a world undeserving
of my inadvertent pollution.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 7:03 PM UTC
You caught lightning in your mouth
and kissed the world a thunderstorm
All Four Winds bleeding out,
moment by moment
and stilling the night;
instill it with silence.
Infuse it with waiting
bait our breaths--
_--The ocean's saline, and
I'm surprised to say,
it seems to like us.
Lips can clamp or loosen,
catch and hold or unleash.
Choose one?
it's catch-and-release._
I gulped wondering into my mouth
and I spit out an omen.
Dolmen smile fading now;
twin teeth releasing
floodwaters
from this tomb door of a frown.
Quell the squalling night;
implanting our silence.
Infused with surrender.
Hold no breath.
Anyway...
We don't check on each other...
_...or look at our neighbors._
Yesterday's just that, friend.
Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 3:19 PM UTC
It caught me off guard, this sudden feeling of loss, this sense that something beautiful was gone forever. I didn't know what to do with it, this overwhelming idea that now, out of neglect or shame or starvation, a work of art had withered away into nothing.
I suppose that I'm beginning to understand that the world isn't a narrative, it's not a story by an author with a plot and a hero.
This is the essential fallacy taught to children with a streak of the hopeless romantic in them:
the desperate belief that somewhere out there is a place for people who live their lives waiting for King Arthur instead of Jesus.
And even now, with every word comes the terrifying truth that my babbling is going to change absolutely nothing, not a single atom is going to **** an electron on the completion.
I won't feel better, the situation won't change, you the reader aren't going to say EUREKA!!!! at the end of it, so what's the point?
Expression, that is the point of it, and to be be completely blunt about it all, I hope some one I love and admire will read this and say the typical things that are said when people are honest on public forums. Do I have a point? No, not really.
So what do I do with this loss, this empty fireplace in my soul?
I drink and smoke and **** it away, stay so busy that I don't have time to consider it, this knowledge that the fire has gone out. How typical of me, how unoriginal and bourgeoise to write another ode to the trials of the individual.
Who am I to feel loss and pain when my stomach is full and my needs are met?
Aren't I another servant of economic output?
Should I not donate time and money to a cause more worthy of respect than a withering example of excessive individualism such as myself?
No, and what's more, **** you society, **** you for taking away the only haven I ever had: my head. **** you for marketing my imagination,
for inventing a bunch of ******** about responsibility for the greater good,
for poisoning the little freedom I do have with feelings of uselessness.
And most especially **** you for your greatest crime of all;
implanting this feeling of guilt whenever I do anything with my own well-being in mind.
You have created a system that perpetuates itself on shame and output,
you have killed the desire to create for it's own sake.
**** you, and I'm going to unplug from you if it's the last ****** thing I ever do.
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
What has happened to today's society
Everything to be seen is sickening
Hardly anyone is true to their word
And friendship is considered absurd
They're suppose to be there through thick and thin
But all is thrown away when shown a little skin
Where exposing bodies has been revered
And it's morally acceptable to play smear the queer
Seemingly betrayal is accepted more and more
A grand fest of backstabbing galore
It's better to be alone, where there's no deception
Where truth can be found in a simple reflection
But the truth in others is as fake as can be
Because the only truth is that there are only lies in this reality
No one truly can appreciate all that is done
Unless they're being mistreated; it is no longer fun
Suppose friends lurk in the shadows plotting a sinister deed
Implanting it unknowingly in our minds growing from an evil seed
Many are trapped here wondering who to trust and who to not
Getting lost in this ever lasting thought
Spit in the face by an enemy or stabbed in the back by a friend
Who should be trusted; what differences does it make in the end
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
Stress everywhere
Comprised of work and worry
It creeps; lurking
Until i walk to close
Striking rapidly
Slicing the air as it moves
Frantically startling my Heart
It's noisome stench lingers
Infecting the atmosphere
Not allowing itself to be forgotten
It intrude my nostrils
Implanting itself on my brain
Yet I still reject it
Procrastination and I skip happily
Through a green garden that slowly withers
Knowing that time runs out
I wait anxiously for my responsibilities
To run to me
Saying time is almost up
Then I try to do the impossible
Foolishly and disorderly
Rushing to finish tasks
As my responsibilities frown at me
Their disappointing faces haunt me
Drowning out the disappointment I have for myself
Then they slowly walk away
Knowing fully well that
I can not finish them all
Then the pace slows
And I become lackadaisical
Knowing that it is over
I had failed myself
The overwhelming defeat consumes my emotions
I weep without a friend
But then someone emerges from the shadows
Its procrastination
Coming to hug me
Wiping away my tears
I love you
My old friend
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 10:10 PM UTC
We live In a land where the people romance the reality
Instead of embracing and facing the realism
In attempts to make it better for these little boys and girls
Not realizing they are implanting pessimism
Causing their minds to be closed with frailty
And the creativity within that should spark and swirl
Instead lies dormant, Suppressed and concealed.
Leading to people who know nothing and have faith
That they know everything.
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 3:08 PM UTC
In the name of God we come undone. Violence justified, theology under the gun. Microscopic dissection of every word, while the underlying truths go unheard. Brothers and sisters are at odds, implanting hatred, unraveling the innocence. Venomous bites poison the soul, in all of this quarreling, we've lost our love, forgotten our purpose, with blindness we are overcome. See the good in your brothers, sisters share your heavenly peace, nurture your children to freely live and love in peace.
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
As my illogic breaks, I'll robot make
to be this soul's chamber,
robbing a piecemeal joy from misfit toys
tossed out for fine tuning
by toddlers cheery mad to gorge on fads.
I'll take their T-Rex head,
with droopy lids that wink as if to drink
the world's wide-shallow stares,
plug its plastic prongs in torso of tin
while twin squeeze-box arms splay
to tie magnetic bows round pads below
gold, plush lion cub's legs.
This moppet of mixed breeds I'll learned feed
with animate cunning
to be ruled by charmed laws that give it pause
when whole-sum circumstance
tangles fuzzy circuits. Then a circus-
wire's unbalancing act
I'll paste from templed flesh to doll enmeshed
by transfuse rigging,
and as coil comes to slough, just as I'm off,
I'll flip that gilded switch,
implanting my spirit into a bit
of copper-hued country.
Mar 31, 2010
Mar 31, 2010 at 9:49 AM UTC
courtesan and slave to greed;
hallowed host to wicked deed;
ripping hearts from souls in need;
implanting each with evil seed;
stolen hope and dreams combine;
tortured souls by cold design;
marked by this immortal sign;
angelic life in quick decline;
sedated shells of emptiness;
secluded in deceptive bliss;
insulting glimpse of happiness;
neglected all but by its kiss.
Feb 25, 2010
Feb 25, 2010 at 5:10 AM UTC
My sadness is worth more than me
Inspiration
Insight
Inception
Implanting the seeds
Of creativity
And compassion
Impregnating me
With empathy
Giving me all that
So I can share it with thee
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 3:41 PM UTC
What have I done?
what's happening to me?
Am I diseased with
the sickness that's infiltrating
the whole nation
A nation of pill popping zombies
that has addicted itself
to the loophole
of "a pill for happiness"
"a pill for desensitization"
"a pill for nerves"
"a pill for life"?
Why have we become a generation of junkies
whose drug is legal
inflicted on us
but degree holding powers
because "they know better"?
Is it normal for humans like me and you
who feel
who see
who taste
who hear
who smell
to be controlled by a singular button
to be confined to a manifesto
of the "latest trend"
Are we all hypnotized
into morphing into the
"perfect body"
"10 ways to get smarter"
"look like this, don't eat"
is it a blueprint set by a superpower
to transform us to identical robots
to make it easier to control us?
Are we slowly walking down the path
of being identical?
Are we losing the only essence of what makes us human?
Are removing our imperfections
and surgically implanting
"my lips should be like this"
"my thigh gap is a must"
"my brain should have a set of guidelines"
What has become of us?
I pity the fish that
flow with the current
I cry over the youth today
I mourn the artists
of yesteryears
I grieve with the widowers
of lost souls
There's still hope
or so I try to believe
and encourage
the dying breed
of
perfectionists
the humble ones
those whose kisses only
land on lips
and not
*****
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 6:57 AM UTC
This art alone will not quench my thirst
So, I pushed to the street in a disorderly burst
Not as myself but as the lacerating beast
He erased my fish-like stare and began his feast
His fangs pierced deep and would not let go
Implanting them shrewdly as a seed would be sown
Stared through my mind but he saw only me
A cowardly corpse of the filthiest degree
Dragging me further by the arduous lights
That shun on my skin and reflected mere blight
Forcing me to confront the dwelling of lies
As I loitered the entrance I screeched my despise!
The masochist's dream is really quite lame
Like smothering an ash from becoming a flame
To bright forth the end is such a shame
What a waste of time to miss out on pain..
Do what thou wilt is the whole of our law
Next to that indulge in your flaws
Be who you are and love under will
But remember again do what thou wilt!
The demon left me and I felt swift again
Why should I leave and not take a friend?
Might as well reveal that not much is real
and bring forth the extent of misery I can feel
The scent of death was close and would surely come
And to my surprise I knew where it was from
The pits of lust and her treacherous Gaze
Leading me through the most grotesque haze
Upon my arrival I was ceased to a sudden halt
for what lay before me was preparing its assault
Three seeds of evil from the lowest circle of hell
but these had faces that I could remember so well
The first was my love but she had no eyes
They had been gouged and now hang at her thighs
"I can't believe you're content with stupidity!"
She screamed at me with the utmost sense of pity
That sight alone was a dream come true
A boundless arousal that was sincerely due
The bliss I betrayed was evoked once more
Into the depths of my stomach my innards it tore
Glanced upon her flesh again and it began to rot
At least seemingly so or obviously not
I'd finally met god and I knew he'd been watching
My sorrows to date and the guilt I was flaunting
He mocked my existence and showed me his fame
From that moment forward I knew who to blame
This deity was consciousness and I hated him so
I needed to run but where could I go?
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 9:55 PM UTC
Seven New Poems for Seven Days #2: Hover^
My Children:
Ancestral homes oft possess,
a unique scent, product of an atomizer, a memorizer
Musty time, the odor of
faded and shadow,
hollow, yet hallowed.
Somewhere along the road,
a residence transforms from home to
shrine-storage unit-hospital room-tomb-records depository.
Dust, expired perfumes,
the sweet odor of crumbling, yellowing books, disinfectant,
stale medicine chests, years of furniture polish, sabbath candles.
It is my smell -
the parfumerie of my history, a customized blend,
a commissioned work in 1964, entitled, more accurately, emitted,
"Her-Story."
Photographs, memories, and paper scraps
my very own Preservation Hall Jazz Band.
Yet the most potent firing pin for historical retrieval,
the molecules of scent.
Soon all will be dismantled, discarded,
just plain dis'ed.
Confused and disenchanted,
my departure orderly but, in a disordered fashion.
unable to seed one last kiss upon your forehead,
nonetheless, surreptitiously enter your neurons
though my entity, away, across the miles-wide Hudson River.
For three days, I will hover invisible,
implanting myself once more,
slapping your mucous membranes,
transversing this pathway, an additive to your cells, nuclei,
where my markers always reside.
Adding one more ingredient to your inner vision,
strengthening the formless structure, my altered state.
This odor, keep close, fresh, no becoming musty too, my scent,
the last of your senses knowing me, a true keepsake.
*Hold me close and hold me fast.
This one last magic spell I cast.
This one last magic smell I set fast.
You cannot hold it, but it will cradle you.
You cannot see or touch it, but when contact comes,
You will see me, hold me, as in the days of your youth,
When you loved me best,
And I, you.*
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 4:37 PM UTC
I only think of you when I want something
and that something is simple, yet it haunts me sometimes
It keeps me up at night.
Barely I sleep as I ride
-it out. Flows through me like a drug
I can never get enough
Addicted to the scent that stirs from within
A special sin.
They have special place in hell for me
A special sin.
I can see my chambers calling me.
The yearning is inhuman and the lust eats me up inside
that's why I text you random things at night.
Hoping it'll subside.
never does. why do i try?
Twist and turning in the sheets trying not to remember the last time
-you put your hand on my thigh.
Set me off , all the time.
It happens in the earliest hours of the night,
Like a vampire I seek shelter at my home, trying to hide
it's the lust demon, and she's here with her nightly visits
implanting images that drag me to the abyss with a vengeance
There's my body.
moving to it's accord, snaking in the sheets.
twisting and turning with an urgency
There's my fingers slowly co-ercing me
Coaxing me into my toxic temptation of a urgency
darkness being the audience that blankets me
in my fantasy playroom.
Slip the finger to my mouth
to taste the fantasy ***
Half drunken off the playing of my own drums
Sounding off like a snare-drum
with the side of vocals
it's like a live concert as I hit I higher of notes
La-La- Oh- La
-and that is all that she wrote.
Turning over to my phone
how i want you to know
I grab it staring at your pictures as I plateau.
From the head to toe-
crescendos.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 5:58 PM UTC
*perpetuation
implanting reality
our garden of choice*
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 9:14 AM UTC
The words I spoke
Painted soft hues in semicircles
That formed veins in vain
All the life the colors formed caused was pain
And disdain for this thing called breath
I would gladly welcome death
In the form of the devil kissing necks
Sharpening a dagger in geometric patterns
Slicing through my brain matter with a splayed tongue
Implanting THC in my frontal lobe with infinite precision showing me visions of misread Scriptures read by passive preachers and pastors not knowing the meanings of verses read backwards that sound like incantations for Satan
Drop.
Drip into my glass
Cerulean liquid so vivid it defies description
Even with these prescription lenses I can't tell the difference between what's okay to write but not say so today
I think
I'll take an AK to Pre K to educate the young with Guns
JFK would smile
Knowing I'm the last gunslinger and expander of minds destined to be assassinated for saying it before my time
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 12:15 PM UTC
In deep water
Simplest thing in the world
Terrifying Midge
Hint about snakes
Whispers of Gar
Such subtle implanting
Truly an art
Little words
Dredge up vivid memories
Sharp teeth in a protruding snout
Massive jaws devouring prey
Reminder that you are small and isolated
Nothing next to the mammoth creature
Living only in your fear
Recollections morph and grow
Driven by a spore of contagion
Mention of a looming shadow
Far beneath the place you lie
Seeds have taken root
Hysteria rears its head
Shrieks fill the air
Tiny tendrils burst from their shells
Adrenaline pulses through her veins
Speed unrivaled as she races to safety
Terror blooms roaming freely
Induction now complete
Will must prevail or this shall rule her
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 1:19 PM UTC
The world I seek is beyond me
My mind has strolled to a different dimension
The only light I know is as false as theories
A thousand seductive conspiracies
A million desires unfold into temptation
The depths of the secrets
Become obvious
My manhood desires to be place
Wrapped into your mind of safety
implanting pure ecstasy upon you
Without a doubt these words are as pure
As the honey that drips from your womb
If I told you of such things
I fear there would be nothing left
I am a man of conversation
Or so to speak
But I dare not leave you unbounded
Rather Blinded
By my sweet powerful tantalization
As these days go beyond
I continue to disrupt what little innocence
You have left of you
I presume by the look on your face
That I have at this moment
Delicacy is whispered upon your lips
But what I yearn and passionately desire for
Is difficult to contain
Maintaining my ability to such exposure
Has been fairly strenuous
But worry not
Your exquisiteness
Is all I indefinitely ache for
- Leon Wolf
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 7:02 PM UTC
And I'm still trying to figure out how to say that without feeling like a liar
Making up a screenplay in my head: dead
lead from the real way I wish to express, again
Exiting into your u-turn I always ******* dread: descend
Melodies I learned to hum when young
To someone now no one, flashes of red
You hummed them to me; child-like: off to bed
Implanting this seed in me
I don't recall a single syllable you said
But still memories are melting me like butter on burnt bread
Talking to a ghost
Pointless...end.
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 4:17 AM UTC
Sacrificed for national healing
Head on a plate
Checkup from the neck-up
Mother, Mother,
They're washing my brain again
Implanting discs where wings should be
Put a gun in my right hand
Left me with a pill
Their quick and ***** ****
Cleans you out so slowly
What a wrong sensation
For their righteous slay
Gained a middle name
And no more summer rain
Will hit my roof again
Fell for their cruel nature
Sprung from lack of nurture
People never notice anything
And I'm caught in the rye
Live in the moment
Do what you please
One might destroy you
But a worse disease
Is strapping the harness
And losing the keys
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 10:21 PM UTC
after a night spent tossing
& turning,
sleeplessly overheating
& burning
i wake now to you
seeping through the open window
enveloping my body
caressing my skin
implanting the dire
hunger within
it all feels so out of place
but you-
this electrifying cold-
have found home with
me here, in
the room of the misfit,
as he once more strains
to open his eyes and
absorb the external
don't leave me, there's
no reason we ever have
to leave this bed again
our story is written
in the stars
clearly and beautifully
there's no reason to
leave this bed again
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 1:42 PM UTC