"nix" poems
Métis, Themis, Ma’at, their banter was for naught.
All the tides and tithings wisdoms and their teachings, Daemonium forgot!
But the heavens cry manna as Nix cried out reprieve!
An act that loosed the flood, the chaos of her sea.
Her pain arose a champion to tend to all her needs,
Formed of Celestial Ocean he bore down on the freed.
A giant wave of madness, thrusting mist of sadness eradicating gladness... One led the ruthless breed.
Opaque in their beginning, formless shapes in twining.
Conjoined but not together, accompanied the weather.
Thalassa’s stringy tether wrapped them all forever.
Come or go in seasons, live or die in age.
No Spring to Fall in reasons, travailing of the mage?
Black tentacles the streamers, rooted into wave.
Witness the all-wise and snaking phantom phage...
Chiron watches while he prances, his dressage on the shore.
Arising liminal of beings wettened ambiguity of yore.
Even Iblis is impressed, such black rotten to the core!
Merkabah or egg, mountain, belly, tree they squabble.
All elements do I cobble, such are actions of the wobble.
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 7:28 PM UTC
all aluminum alloy ammo
bane bat brakes badly basters back bones
come call cthulhu Cristo cuz
dead ********** dominate de download
even elven eternal endowments
fail frivolously flaming for fair fraudulence
grant good goggles give grandiose gratuity
how hella homeboys have how he has
If I ignore I implicate its implore
jack jacks jacks
kay killla kooks krack
LAPD locks la lackeys
maybe mom made mad monoxide
no, no natural nix NOx neutralizes
oh over overt opp only overlay orphic
please protest politely panic pretenses perpetuity
quiet quivers quiet queens
remember rage reaps reciprocity
so sour sits supplanters sat
to tell them to tare trail *** tat?
universal unhappiness underlays under us
victory validates victors vanity
why warble when winners wont waste worry wanting
x-axis x-rays Xerophagy Xanax Xanthorroea
you yodel yonder yet yahweh's yells Yarrish
zero zag zealots zoos
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 4:40 AM UTC
Fantail feathers, of a hazy, 'yellow-orangish-moon'…
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Skeleton-scythes, thorny-stars, swaying in the swoon,
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Fire-pits and witches brew and cauldron’s smoking tricks?
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Little dwarves and wolves and serpents crawling; leftover people bits,
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Trumpets hailing arrival, of Pale Rider, can you hear his tune?
Fantail feathers strain the sight of harvest-yellow moon,
Skeletons, fire-pits, witches, cauldrons and Old Nix,
Animals of evil’s calling, tricker-treaters; Hallow’s Eve and ****** grit!
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Pray to Sáeta, Satá, Saturn…
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern*
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 12:43 PM UTC
There, high aloft the flaming sky
Ablaze with the sun's intense heat
A boy, calmly, gaily did fly
The world a globe beneath his feet
The sky an eye of molten blue
The fields green blooming in gold
Of wheat and grains, the ploughman drew
Whilst calm ocean waves did unfold
And crashed against the mighty shore
Studded with rocks, and moist and cool
Where sat upon the golden floor
The fisherman near the dull pool
Trying throughout the weary day
Catch any fish, a meal to serve
His cursed stomach which growled fray
And twined in locks each of his nerve
And on that pool, a fearsome ship
With azure flags, a dreary mast
Most quietly, quickly did skip
The tremulous ocean waves, past
Stealing the food the fisherman
Yearned to catch but never did he
And Icarus flew higher than
His father had told him to be
Out of his thrill, his bliss, his joy
He tried to claim the sun, the skies
Only his tries made him the boy
To fall into his dark demise
And as he rose, he rose most high
He lost his wings, like bright the oars
Once pedaling throughout the sky
Melted away, he lost his course
And suddenly his feathers flew
Like pollen in the midst of spring
And down into the profound blue
He went on fast and tumbling
His cries for pleas were never heard
Ne'er spoken from his withered throat
And down just like an injured bird
He tumbled and drowned near the boat
What marvelous a sight as seen
A boy tumbling from out the sky
Ne'er the ploughman plowing the green
Did see him, he was left to die
Tumbling further beneath the brine
As Daedalus flew high around
“O, gods, where is the son of mine,
There is no sign, there is no sound
Of his warm breath, his lively beat
That chimed away in gaiety
Where did he go, did his end meet
O, what have you have done to me!”
And so he flew around, away
Fisher saw nix, the boat passed by
And life continued day by day
As Icarus was left to die
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 6:32 PM UTC
"Tout aux tavernes et aux filles."
Suppose you screeve? or go cheap-jack?
Or fake the broads? or fig a nag?
Or thimble-rig? or knap a yack?
Or pitch a snide? or smash a rag?
Suppose you duff? or nose and lag?
Or get the straight, and land your ***
How do you melt the multy swag?
***** and the blowens cop the lot.
Fiddle, or fence, or mace, or mack;
Or moskeneer, or flash the drag;
Dead-lurk a crib, or do a crack;
Pad with a slang, or chuck a ***
Bonnet, or tout, or mump and gag;
Rattle the tats, or mark the spot;
You can not bank a single stag;
***** and the blowens cop the lot.
Suppose you try a different tack,
And on the square you flash your flag?
At penny-a-lining make your whack,
Or with the mummers mug and gag?
For nix, for nix the dibbs you bag!
At any graft, no matter what,
Your merry goblins soon stravag:
***** and the blowens cop the lot.
THE MORAL
It's up the spout and Charley Wag
With wipes and tickers and what not.
Until the squeezer nips your scrag,
***** and the blowens cop the lot.
2.6k
Lumpy Dump and Denso Pence
Decided to run for President
Even though, they neither had
An idea what that title meant.
So Lumpy Dump and Denso Pence
Both thought it would be lots of fun
Dump because of the money he'd make
And Pence for fame when they had won.
Lumpy Dump seemed to think
The title made him King of the Earth
Denso Pence hoped to show
Exactly what he was really worth.
Neither one of them realized
They'd have to follow all the rules
Which they were not a mind to do
Because they were both such fools.
Lumpy Dump strung words together
He didn't make all that much sense
But he felt he was doing just fine, as
He sounded brighter than Denso Pence.
Lumpy Dump thought he was slim
Not dumpy like a big old bag of fat.
Denso Pence thought he was bright.
That shows where these to were at.
Let's all hope this is all we hear
Of these two unfunny circus clowns
After Hillary kicks their *****
And runs them both out of town.
We have already had such bad times
And need good times to commence
Which will not happen unless we nix
Lumpy Dump and that idiot Denso Pence.
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC
Letting the ivy roam...
Moonlight serenade, to a begun favor:
Sense in a gentler breeze, the thought to own
A grace, a fastidious space, for a little face...
Pink, the through and due, irony we seldom
Stink and prosper, the alienation we souled?
Together in legend, we tell a tale to a God's question:
Letting the ivy see, is a redress of futures, fools?
Paces and setting a catch, of futures in the light?
A wavering kiss, and the doles of redemption
Have their solemn kin, taken to remembering a night?
My name is a person, order and truth, to another selection...
Of hearts or the ivy...
Spare to fore, we conceive a notion
Made to tailor, a secret, an irony sighed...
Like the bird it was, a concern that lead to devotion...
Ivy sleeps, shadows play...
In the breeds we assume are, the peace of decency...
That has awoken, and seen the sun come, for why...?
Persuade a kind from dread, our fruit is a gift of agony...?
Building halts; continuing salt...
When has a legend presumed finish, of soon's reasons?
The tow of exception, is a wind to defer to a copious fall?
Looking ivy in the eye, asking nix for not, a needs seasons?
The fight is brutal, letting ivy is like a breath between friends
Aching at the completed hour, the duty of they and strange smiles
Set in similar pasts to a redefining must, that only with help, lends
A role no greater than now, a whisper that ended a world's defiled?
Ivy wants your life for a silence...
Ivy has the stomach to turn direction into beauty...
Ivy seemingly aloof, to worth to realize a gift is fast, to the chin...
Ivy knows you, like a taken privilege on the other side of saying we...
Jan 18, 2023
Jan 18, 2023 at 9:06 PM UTC
*Women bursting crackers of laughter
Different entertaining crackers of different colours
Gossips and rumours releasing the highest sound effect
Children running amidst alike an engine train
Men bursting crackers of laughter
Two different kinds of different colours
Boasting giving the highest sound
While criticising wives coming adjacent
Train of children goes through that track withal
Nix distracted by any means
Enjoying in their small innocent world*
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 12:17 PM UTC
We are thousand miles away.
Still I say,'stay away'.
People meet either because they are meant to be isolated or to be in their life forever.
We know we want each other,knowing that it won't happen.
Are you here to lessen my soreness and increase my my sprits. Let me tell you dear,I am in love and relationship with lugubrious. I am the most propitious and wealthiest person because I had had ever you in my lifetime, a cache.
What are we meant for?
For schism or forever?
When we are meant for nix,then let us not give each other unfulfilling expectations.
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 1:25 AM UTC
I aimlessly drifted in teenage years,
From subtle scion to zaftig plebe.
Seen phony glory, vanquished fears,
And the stench of a wicked glebe.
From below, saw the stars up high,
Igniting horizons with callow wonder.
Beheld colossal beauty with mine inner eye,
Begged for chained thoughts asunder.
Amidst the serene flock to be slain,
Oft' a titan, seldom a vacant savant.
Known sorrow, elation, gain, vain, pain,
This mortal hour, hear joyful lament.
How quick we are to bid farewell,
How slow for friendship to pierce the cloth.
The rhythmic ache of that darkened knell,
The sobbing whimpers for a lover's warmth.
Nix for reciprocated amity, yet!
My seat of affection thrives in twilight.
Herein discipline is adamantly set,
Whence shall this ****** ire take flight?
Into the night that covers my soul,
Unleash that verdant star I see.
The divine abyss have taken its toll,
I pray the shadow is only me.
Note the ease to neglect one's clan,
Yet savored glee of reunions by blood.
Fury cease my elder ties, an infant plan,
By filial ardor, I still kneel in mud.
Star-shine ablaze onto vivid blooms,
Arise the stench of broiling debris.
Beauteous summer-tide metronomes,
The sinking scythe follow gales of peace.
Labor come sweat yield sweet fruition,
Tis annual come the bronze harvest.
Wrongful vengeance seek humble redemption,
Autumn under siege of well-fed zest.
Stormy vista rime graying meadows,
Entrench the sepsis by the ice age.
Taste weeping woe of guilty widows,
Lest their beloved hunger in cage.
Arise young lilac out of barren frosts,
Touch the vital aura to begin anew.
Altruists gladly pay auric costs,
To stalk vile leviathan into dew.
May stones bear indistinct distinction,
So my stride shall stumble and falter.
Peace paint heroes of sluggish fiction,
Chaos rouse prodigies from quiet slumber.
Aug 28, 2010
Aug 28, 2010 at 5:12 AM UTC
*True Friends
A long time ago in China there were two friends, one who played the harp skilfully and one who listen skillfully.
When the one played or sang about a mountain, the other would say: "I can see the mountain before us."
When the one played about water, the listener would exclaim: "Here is the running stream!"
But the listener fell sick and died. The first friend cut the strings of his harp and never played again. Since that time the cutting of harp strings has always been a sign of intimate friendship.
From „ Zen flesh, Zen bones“*
the gallery of your luscious qualities
do indeed killing me
there is no one scolding you
like they doing on me
for such nonsenseal guilt, that
i sometimes use imaginary
but alas it happens far seldom
usually i am indeed just infinitely
diminutiv towards your very boldship
the severe prose of life dont
let write astute fantasies
yet my punk *** is vernacular towards
your upperclassed way to speak
its like dog's bark near
your charming chant of melodies
to be befriended with you
yet listen your compliments
I am getting perplexed
cuz i see you stiff giggling on me
you would better doubt me for my narrow horizon
where i type only about hopelessely of resistance
yet about that love is dead
how bore!!
it trully not what may enterntain!
Better I would dont coment and dont write anymore
Better I would skimp this beggarly text
instead only picking nose behind of barricade
and let you hear nix beside my
Perro Semihundido's
WOOF!WOOF!WOOF!
….but, I wrote this lolololong locomotive,
since its obviously my pretty fun to **** off myself
bye
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 12:33 PM UTC
We are on the "no call" list
Yet, our telephone still rings
We've a sign that says "No Pedlars"
But, there's people selling things
Showing up and disregarding
The sign that we've put there
They won't accept the fact they've trespassed
They really do not care
We get calls from companies
Who aren't allowed to phone
And when we say "we're on the list"
They leave us alone
It last for just two hours
Then they call back again
We start the "No call" salsa
From the beginning once again.
People drive by and they stop
They say our house needs work
They saw it from a mile back
They must think I'm a ****
I figure that their eyesight great
For our problem's not out front
The problem is around the rear
They're just searching on a hunt
Have you ever asked yourself
How do they "fly by night"
For they're all so full of ********
They couldn't muster any height
They tell you that they did some work
For the lady who lived here
But if they're work is so **** durable
Why did it only last a year
They're nothing but cheap hustlers
Who want to rip you off and leave
They're just out to get your money
They practice to decieve
They've never got good papers
To show just where they're from
And when you ask to see them
They hightail it and they run
The honest ones leave me alone
And they do not cross my step
For they read my sign "No Pedlars"
And they leave my place...with pep
They move on to the neighbors
They do not wait around
They don't look inside my windows
They just evacuate my ground
There's salesmen doing driveways
Professionals, these guys ain't
All they want to do is
Cover up my drive with paint
They ask about my eavestroughs
It is blocked, that's why it drips
But, it has a gutter cover
That's help on with plastic clips
They phone me during dinner
And they say, "Hi, my name's Jay"
But they sound as if they're calling
From an office in Bombay
They know that my computer
Has a virus I can't fix
And if I let them in my system
This problem they will nix
They prey on you not knowing
And they catch you unaware
So if you don't know these people
i'd advise you please take care
You can tell them really nicely
Or you can tell them go to hell
But right now, my phone is ringing
It must be Jay upon my cell.
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 6:27 PM UTC
Hello.
I'll not bother with the trivialities.
I'll forgo the lingering, longing stares
nix the stuttered words and long-departed trains of thought
skip the goofy, giddy smiles and tangential conversations
and I'll never utter the words,
"I think you're truly beautiful"
because you are,
and because you are
you've heard it all before.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 1:15 AM UTC
Vicinit vicinit the gamut go round
Progenies excogitate faster
Ode to no eminent thing
We all morph into matter.
The atramentous inky and blackest dense;
sprints and weaves in and out.
Tenuring twains over head, under toe;
Absconding ways in which we've never known
A paramounted heretic defeat.
Darkness that foliole footprints sooted deep;
Seeping stenches of fowl un-scented reminiscent in attire of the welkin;
Vastly sly making a skullduggery indent.
CR2X let us pseudonym by hex.
"No nomen no nomen for I matter dark"
"Matronymic nix hold's my fine lark"
"Nongermane logics are behind you and left"
"I am not your scientific pet"
Not a test, nix preliminaries"
Matter of all is of all existing quarries"
Spoken gallant and wise
Need not ever a compromise
"Matter dark matter dark it is you we embark!"
Nov 8, 2010
Nov 8, 2010 at 2:18 PM UTC
Staring at the mirror,
not recognizing who i am
Exasperation in my blood
Indignation in my heart
Debriefing myself wouldnt work
Millions of disparate dots
Refuting everything i believed in
Reverencing my thoughts
Living in an inferno of darkness,
Searching for happiness
Trying to be convivial in,
The clutter of melancholy
Nix spirit,mettle,temperament
With fried skull,cold feet
Staring at the mirror,
not recognizing who i am.
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 8:45 AM UTC
born again and such a stretch
manifest and etch-a-sketch
my brain is gone, i'm not the best
carry on to ace the test
rhyming words and cracking skulls
parking lots of oily gulls
beating hearts with drumming sticks
mouthing words of stevie nix
getting old and magic wands
dumping bodies into ponds
flash, flash, the smiles of moms
making rent and dropping bombs
gravitate towards running fast
this line's a lemon, and the last
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 2:36 PM UTC
She turns up her music because she knows it annoys me.
I push my earphones in as far as they'll go.
Kate Nash 's screeching drowns out the Cranford Nix whispering in my ears.
We sit screaming at each other with our mouths shut.
If I were the bad guy, wouldn't she be bleeding?
If I were the bad guy I'd be out right now with my friends rather than sat with her in her ****** tiny ******* car.
If I were the bad guy , we wouldn't be in this situation.
I wish I were a worse person sometimes.
I wish she was who she says
I touch a broken finger to a bruised knuckle and look over at her dry pale cheeks.
Why isn't she crying?
Why the **** isn't she the one that's hurt.
I think i wish she was.
That would be something.
Jesus give me ******* something.
I don't think I'm the villain of this story but I'm beginning to suspect that I'm not the hero either.
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
“but you are too old for apprehension.” her
voice had sounded so, and of this one’s voice,
‘you are never too old for wariness of
an unknown.’ responded astute, drunk
on logic. returned was breathless thought
to the void, filling emptiness with irony.
(oxymoron) and weened the way thru,
concision turned derision with repetitious
definitions that found no actual meaning.
all thought without justification and no
thought with classification. words,
actions, wailing:
empty, empty, empty
then existed less and less from want
of purpose. less and less from interest of
the known; this once forged fear of life. and
with impressive derangement, grabbing at the
only sober keychain. they, with twitching vesper eyes,
their hands jit’ for a false-meeting fix. to nix
the nihilism. and:
‘People can go **** themselves.’
words of this one’s voice. of her’s, “thank
god you’re alive.” from those days, when rains
ranted down, and the trains tripped us out.
those days of our wood’s reclaimed trailer. and
each syllable was never thought to be anything
until aged eyes ached for review those epochs
of breath. but:
‘People can go **** themselves.’
voiced in response to a romanticized thought. and
all epochs lingered upon are no more than a
journal of the winds that blew while we were present.
some diary of listless lust left undated. of the woods, of
a reiterate span in once anonymized transience. and falling
back, thumbing pages for proof of experiences passed into
skewered memory. left are three lines, ill-verbed, to represent
an entirety of past lives. of time once present in yellow-lit
motel room, of apocalyphic musings, and veering prophets
of doom. they, turned sincere apocalyphites. their prayers
writ boldfaced, platitudinous, in concern of endless words
restating – in constant rephrasing:
‘People can go **** themselves.’
but they just kept goin’ on without concern for the dawn.
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 5:26 AM UTC
* Phae, light
phoe·nix
/ˈfēniks/
Nix, night
**...burning itself on a funeral pyre and rising from the ashes with renewed youth to live through another cycle.
-a person or thing regarded as uniquely remarkable in some respect.**
Joseph Campbell
The Sun on it's daily journey rises with shining rays upon it's sides at the horizon; the wings. The Sun is symbolically an Eagle who rises at dawn and soars the day until time for rest. The Hero's journey is based on these movements. ⁽ᑫᵘᵃᵐ ˢᵘᵘˢ ˢᵉⁿˢᶦᵗ⁾
PHOENIX
Night and Day combined in a cycle denoting the Sun's journey. ⁻ᴵᵇᶦᵈ
I am born again
so I must journey,
Paused in a trepidation
noon to my respite,
Moon she follows me
spirit sends my sojourn,
I burn on horizon
my form to ashes,
Tested by the darkness
lair of that beast.
Eclipsing the New Moon
broken her to pieces.
Followed by the dark
By my vanquished foe!
I arise anew, again
Dawn, day, dusk, night.
Naivete
The Fall
Ashes
Katabasis
Tribulation
Rebirth
Enlightenment/Ascension
King
8
OGDOAD
Og(cK): aga/okto/octo
Eight
⁻ˢᵘᵐᵉʳᶦᵃⁿ/ᴳʳᵉᵉᵏ/ᴸᵃᵗᶦⁿ
Do(u)/ At: place of serpents
Place, temple/serpent, snake
⁻ˢᵘᵐᵉʳᶦᵃⁿ/ᴱᵍʸᵖᵗᶦᵃⁿ
The place of Serpents
Council of Eight Serpentine Gods
Duat
Heaven(s)
The eight unknown actions
-deities of elemental materials
Vasus
⁻ᴴᶦⁿᵈᵘ
Sun
Sky
Moon
Stars
Night
Weather
Water
Nature
A
PILLAR
DJED
pillar/spine
...connected to the serpent upon the rise.
THE
DRAGON'S
MOUTH
SPEWS
FORTH
FIRE
6
The fire of the Sun-
THE
DRAGON
IS WISE/ALL-KNOWING
WITH A KEEN GAZE
For the Moon is thought-
⁻ᴴᵉʳᵐᵉˢ/⁻ᴳʳᵉᵉᵏ
⁻ᴴᵒʳ⁻ᵐᵃˢ/⁻ᴱᵍʸᵖᵗᶦᵃⁿ
And Charon means keen gazer-
⁻ᴳʳᵉᵉᵏ
INSIDE
HIS WINGS
ARE EYES, MANY EYES
-stars-
Gigi
Ig-gigi
Eyes, many eyes-
⁻ˢᵘᵐᵉʳᶦᵃⁿ
BES
A beast made up of animal parts-
...parts of the Zodiac/the animal circus
⁻ᴱᵍʸᵖᵗᶦᵃⁿ
ZU-Bird
Zu
⁻ˢᵘᵐᵉʳᶦᵃⁿ
SOKAR
So
⁻ᴱᵍʸᵖᵗᶦᵃⁿ
*Zu-So:/ˈzō/sō/;
Action/the sigil of Saturn, a repeated action:
-actions that repeat
8
⁻ˢᵘᵐᵉʳᶦᵃⁿ
<A FOURTH ALBUM WITH FOUR TITLES>
8
*KRONOS
⁻ᴳʳᵉᵉᵏ
SET
⁻ᴱᵍʸᵖᵗᶦᵃⁿ
Saturn
⁻ˢᵘᵐᵉʳᶦᵃⁿ
8
...and his number is Eight...
...eight turned sideways is,
t i m e
OG
r e p e a t s
I N F I N I T Y
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 6:34 PM UTC
noooooooo
know
no
neh
nah
no thanks
nope
negative
absolutely not
by no means
never
not at all
nix
no way n
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 8:46 AM UTC
I had no No in my vocabulary,
No veto power,
No nix, no nullity, no negation.
I was the King of Affirmation,
Yes to this, yes to that.
I thought No would cut me off from love,
Friendship, belonging.
I couldn’t say that word to anyone,
Not nobody not nohow.
I was the Wizard of Yes.
The Emperor of Agreement.
The Yes Man to the universe.
What was I?
A character in someone else’s play,
Puppeting my way through life,
Following a program I did not write.
I had to have a word that was my own,
A firm, strong, stubborn word,
To crash the program, buck the tide.
Now I’m ready to know No.
For No has that stopping power.
No is the Final Word.
No tells you in no uncertain terms,
What you really want.
This is me, it says.
These are my boundaries.
This is my true and real self.
I’m in love with No.
No, No, No, No, No, No.
I like the way I say it, and I know
That only by shouting my No
Can I say Yes to Me.
Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 2:02 PM UTC
and now i realize,
i don’t want happiness
anymore
i just want less loneliness
nothing more.
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 5:22 AM UTC
Never ending golden thoughts
Our mind travels with it
Strange but bonafide truth
Time withal can nix erase
And create a new one
Like those precious moments
Giving our soul an inspiration
Impact of memorable moments
Accredited to move forward
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 4:19 AM UTC
sometimes this is
a barn loft filled with crumpled mad owls
like you punching the side of my car-
when your eyes became more rock,
less ice and i sobbed next to
a woman in a lexus watching me wheeze ash and spit
into my wet hands shaped like
the kuiper belt, the bodies within them
(yours the hardest, the most blue)
the condition of the sheets around six in the evening
there are ways of living
milky, the way i am
not currently living
do i confess that as i sleep alone my spine curls with want
to be other, to be nix, hydra, charon?
the black vulture circling your thighs
the water-drinker crouching
at the crater’s languid salt pool
alternately feeling the desperation of
american canyon road, zip 94503
and the thick clarity of
a non-smoking room in
the southern realm of “here”
this was a case study,
bending under you to observe:
your mouth filled with hot water and spilled out onto your naked chest
as parts of myself went missing
the water ran down into my throat
this isn’t moon linen, it’s polyester
your face television blue, your slick hair
your eyes sitting in your pretty head,
hurtling chunks of ice and rock
stealing me into torpor
we stand on a ledge and look up
the nearest planet is clear
we think of invisible things
not knowing that sometimes we ourselves disappear
like mice under the hotel floorboards
and like the highway, all covered in white.
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 8:41 PM UTC