Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ben Palomino Mar 2023
You came to me
with waves upon waves of emotions

yet I couldn’t see through your sea

You told me to dive deeper
and
I might find something more than just me

But is that not the nature
of the ego-naut
to explore indefinitely

making a home
in a place
where a home shouldn’t be

Deeper down know I see
All is
We

I started writing
this poem for you
And
made it all about me
Adrian Asher Aug 2014
I
A scream scares the day away and makes the night a dark eternity.
Mating calls lurching behind barstools talking about nothing and jumping deeper into conversation over the bovine carcass at Applebee's.
Desolate honkytonks fueled by Percocet and chlamydia, fat musicians and anthems of Beer drunkenness hanging over the toilet to ***** their soul away for a buzz.
Coal diggers and gold diggers painted in black and red and the pinks drips down their leg to a puddle of shame. Crying in the corner for a fix with their broken knees and backs and their black lungs and their pharmacies of solutions that end up being their prison. Poisoning the air with the smoke of death and masculinity with broken hands punching the walls until the blood pours.
The **** of the body and land in unison in mind, flutters from our corner of the world to the coast
then to the heavens where it again rapes. Where it forces itself upon the consciousness of a nation
That buys it up and sells it again for naut. Souls of the lost gather for your final baptism in pain, together,
Ready and willing for more.
Trailers like tombstones in the distance at the end of hollers buried beside their dignity in the mines. Eternal monuments to good enough sprouting from every seed wasted in the divine Goddess who is reduced to the ***** of Hazard and surrounding counties.
Repeat the cycle of suffering.
Churches of skeletons praying for that divine **** of death,
reap what ye sew,
Harvest of the men in plenty,
eat for your fill!

                                                            II
I­t has been a cold winter, and I have traveled to the land of my heroes, who live now only on the page and in spirit alike.   I have bussed cross nation, gone to Boulder and Denver and dear Allen Ginsberg I found out the time. I search for the street where I can find you, curl up in your beard, hear your stories, and hitchhike with you to Nirvana. I have snowshoed high and happy with friends and have no regrets only that I didn't stay longer.  Played music on the top of mountains and felt them dance under me. I have been reborn with life and friends and it is good enough. Dislocated souls connecting in the ephemeral plane somewhere between Kentucky and Colorado in dreams and though and music and poetry and body and soul.
Logan Robertson Apr 2019
ISIS Juggernaut


Another
Bombing
Crisis
Darkens
Everyone's
Fearful
Go­od
Home.
ISIS'
Jugger­naut
Knocking
Loud,
Malignancy
Noxiously
Odious.
Plants
Quickly
Rooting
Suicidal.
Terror
Under
Vile
Wings,
Xenophobic
Yet
Zygodactylous

Logan Robertson

4/29/2019
Xenophobe-a person having a dislike of or prejudice against people from other countries

Zygodactylous- In birds, applied to feet in which two toes point forwards, and two to the rear. How this concept applies to the poem is that ISIS can strike from every direction, swoop down at any time, with eyes and a network lurking from every tree branch so to speak. Sad.

Sad was this last Easter Sunday in Sri Lanka, 253 innocent victims, as mankind watches in horror. These birds of a feather flock together, and their flock is getting bigger, and I wish that it would fall and end.
Aa Harvey Apr 2018
Throwing stones at Philosophers


Critical conscience is not an admittance of ambivalence,
But a philosopher once said:
“You threw a rock at my head Fred!”
A road along a path is but a journey to nowhere,
If your cart is broken by a donkey or the donkey is dead.
In all the worlds that I have imagined,
Surely all things are possible,
Except finality of bravery;
A human once said.


If I read your body language correctly,
You speak only of the bee disease,
But a bee society has never ever been set free.
So what use is it to me?
I am no slave, nor have I ever been free,
In this world you have created,
Figuratively.


I…am a human being!
And once upon a time I was quite happy,
Until you chanced upon a whim to throw a rock at me.
“I never did!”  Lied he.  “And so what if I did?
I never meant anything by it.
I just wanted to see if I could do it
And whether I should or I shouldn’t is irrelevant.
I could, so I did
And if it got into your head,
Then at least I made you think.”


As I quietly pondered and thoughtfully wondered,
I was stunned, simply floundered at his absolute arrogance!
And a plundered thought was thus born…
Is he right…?
Nay!
War!


I will return his helpful hint with a tenfold of my own!
And so began The Battle of the Naut and the Earth
And upon Gods breath I roamed.
All that remain are a pile of bones,
Covered in boulders and sprinkled with stones.


If a man cannot agree, then folly!
I will become a beast and the nature of the thing,
Will forever be seen and heard!
But never truly understood.
I’d better read another book.
Look out duck!
“What?”  Said the thought bubble.
Never been at one with seeing double,
But now inflamed with insight,
I was clearly in and seeing trouble
And as sure as light, there came another stone,
From (this time) a complete unknown.


Oh the contradictions thought philosopher Uno,
As he strapped his helmet on as if he could predict the future;
And sure enough, just as peace had been bartered for and sold,
There came a clink, followed by a blink, and a thud and a lost think…
“Forget this!  I’m going home.”


So as I was roaming through the seven layers of Hell,
I thought I’ll have to ask directions to save myself.
Maybe a goodish citizen will pray tell me where the Hell I am!
Oh, excuse me young man, I was wondering if you can,
Or rather, could, tell me where the Hell I am?
The man he simply smiled and then he loudly laughed,
As he burst into a thousand screaming insect eggs!
This is not a laughing matter!  I said,
And pretty soon they were crawling up my legs.


So I ran and I ran as fast as I could,
But it did no good.
They were a part of me now and to each other we were each stuck
And it was all I could do to not let out a high pitched scream!
So I did.
And within a glimpse of time immemorial itself,
I had managed to escape from the dream.


(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
DuBray Oct 2018
Don’t become a tree
Knot

But rather be a cosmo-
Naut
the geocentric remodelling of the human psyche:
two eyes in the sky
apparently a bad omen is seeing the moon
at noon: although that's perfectly so in winter:

a geocentric levelling of what once was...
i checked and as far as i remember
Richard Dawkins stated that he
was confirmed:
i wasn't too sure whether Confirmation was
solely a catholic rite of passage
but apparently the Church of England
does confirmations...

luckily for me i'm not a "hypocrite" or rather
a lackey for some intellectual cause
like atheism
but unlike the collective atheism of communist
states: this pathetic individualistic
scribble doodle-dah-d'oh...

i was born yesterday
i'm a pagan
i adorn myself in night and pareidolia
i employ dreams to rip through the fabric
of reality:
and there are dreams where you dream
of words
and that's called obfiscation
i'll check the meaning of obfiscation now...
ah U: obfuscation...
               that's when you dream of words
because images are so clear
and pattern solving
like reading colours at the traffic lights
and when you are permitted to move...

from an early age i read about the Gnostic heresies
in my catholic school of Canon Palmer
Seven Kings, Essex...
i'm surprised they had a book on Gnostic heresy
so publically available
but like any horcrux or volatile materials
like magnesium or sodium
saturated in moth and webs and obscurity
just waiting there like a phantom with daggers
for teeth: this miasma of sweet death toll
this tonic for the intellect:
and then match gnosticism with paganism
and ask the monotheistic religions
who is willing to convert me
then again: don't bother...
i can't belong to the most exclusive club
within monotheism
i can't be Jewish i don't come from Hebrew
stock
i can't be circumcised i don't even know
why they bothered to baptise me
and give me a Hebrew first name
my actual name is of Germanic stock:
my second name is probably my truer name...
now if i were confirmed i would actually
choose a third name for myself...
i think i would have chosen Gideon,
or Asmodeus... something along those lines...
or maybe some other...
but i didn't ask to be baptised...
just like the marriage of Poland and Lithuania...
and why paganism in Europe was still
alive somehow having missed Lithuania
by a stretch of
while the Muslim Turks were sacking the delight
of wisdom in Constantinople
the failed third crusade and the disgruntled Germans
because Barbarossa died in the most comic
way that the pickle barbarossajuice finally
reached Jerusalem
decided: maybe we need a crusade up north
and how did the Russians become so orthodox
and self-assured
maybe it's true what they say:
Christianity is like Communism...
              they always have that idealistic argument
of: but it wasn't true Christianity...
it wasn't true Communism...
        the **** was i baptised for? did i ask to be baptised?
clearly no: since in my youth i already
decided to not be confirmed...
   technically i can't take marriage in church:
it's this stretch of imagination and clinging to authority
oh jeez... pride? i can't be guilty of pride...
i can be guilty of wrath:
i am short-tempered: unbelievably so...
but that's also what makes me tender:
a short temper tenderness
i use anger to exhaust myself and bring fruition of
that exhausted peace... but that's enough about moi...

two eyes in the geocentric model...
i see myself walking on the ego of the moon...
with the sun as god
                     and i return my gaze back to earth
and see the id...
and there is no superego to mention
until i make my descent back
from my delegation as the psychenaut...
weird: the Russians called them cosmonauts...
the Americans astronauts...
cosmos and the Astra
ex Astrum...                  astrology astronomy
cosmology and a jumble hiccup of etymological
fetishes to arrive at the suffix -naut
from nought?
                    -naut disrupts the intelligence of AI...
hyphens are not recognised in artificial thinking
via the immediacy of AI interruption
of algorigthm... which is now very recurrent:
prior to algorithms were not equipped
with AI capabilities...
but since then: algorithms have been imbued
with AI...
                      and i did ask Monsieur Chez Chat
about the difference between AI and
algorithm... so we're on good course...
              ah: ναύτης - sailor...
                              then i must be a... soul...
navigator...
a...

                   ψυχήπλοηγός

psychiploigos...            depending on the context
of meaning: with at least two letters having
the same sounds
the meanings must differ:
notably why the eta (η) is exchanged for the iota (ι)
and there being not only
the omicron (o) and omega (ω)
but also the upsilon (υ) - oh ooh ugh...
that's being very blunt...
the ingenius recommendation of bilingualism
and not actually learning a third language
to the working faculty but
out of interest...                           psy-ché
(but not Ché like Guava Ger...
   ***** type of e off é...
                   so no psu...         psy-like-sigh
and the psigh...         hmm very much a riddle
but of sounds... the dyslexic bother:
yes... we spell knight night nigh and ought
for thought although V and F
     are there too)
                            psy-long-i-that's-y
   and why i don't know but such is the concentration
of meaning:
i have this long poem i left with Edie
in its infancy i think i'll get back to it at some
point...

might ask a ****** about the relationship
of i to the długie "i" that's a jot (j)
then might ask and wonder:
why do the Polacks have... a Greek style
name for a letter that's Y namely IGREK?
unlike all the other letters:
the Poles have a name for a letter...
like the Greeks used to have a name for aLPHA
and bETA and oMEGA
and uPSILON
             the Poles didn't adopt... ooh wait!
it's like the Easter Egg phenomenon
of a computer game...      perhaps we didn't
adopt the Greek into Cyrillic cheap-oh so *******
wong that alphabet looks
so ******* hacked... ugh...
so the Poles paid tribute in Latin to the Greeks
and gave one letter a Greek accent of influence:
Y is named IGREK...
                           spell that otherwise phonetically
in English... otherwise...
only in these dark perverted times in England
can something remotely thrilling emerge
on a page from this obscurity on the outskirts
of Loon-Don.

— The End —