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LD Goodwin May 2013
Here, on the flatlands
I was put in my place.
formed and pressed
into their neat and presumably safe little box.
It's all they knew.
It is so hard to think of them as once children themselves,
formed and pressed.
Formed from a different time, with different conformists.
There are no manuals when we are born,
you get leftover instructions from previous pipe fitters.
Agrarian raised, like grain fed beef.
Complete with the fears and habits of bygone generations.
I leave one bite of each item on my plate,
with just enough drink to wash it all down.
I have done that as long as I can remember.
I want the whole candy bar, rather than just a bite.
Pressed and formed my Father saves.
He saves twist ties from bread bags.
He saves old welcome mats, and garage door openers.
He buys in bulk, and has two deep freezers full.
Full of freezer burn, tasteless, barely nutritious,
neatly formed and pressed portions of frozen in time Salisbury steak.
It is as if he himself would like to be frozen in time.
He is a depressionite child.
In the basement there is an old dresser that he found at a yard sale.
He painted it a hideous green,
but it has a formed and pressed neat white little doily on top.
In the top drawer there are various expired drugstore items,
some dating as far back as 35 years ago.
"You never know when you might need something in there."
Expired aspirin that has broken down into powder and smells of vinegar.
Vicks Vaporub, in the pretty blue glass jar, that is dried up and orderless.
All brand new and have never been opened.
Formed and pressed neatly in their little containers.
I watch these molders of my life slowly pass away,
becoming neatly formed and packed into their aging corner of the world,
neatly formed and packed into a stereotypical old folks home.
Forgotten, in the way, slow, aching.
Soon all they will have will be memories.
Soon all they will need will be memories.
Neatly formed and packed in their aging minds.
And then, like a comet that has shuttled through space
for thousands of years, millions of years,
they will burn out and fade into dust.
And their whole lives
will be neatly formed and packed
away,
in a trunk
in the attic,
to be opened like a time capsule,
at a later date.

*the result of a week with my 94 yr old Parents
Miamisburg, OH   May 2013
Johnson Oyeniran Mar 2023
The ballad of Nalum by Johnson Oyeniran



Under a Sakura tree on a warm and pleasant day,
Sat a battle hardened soldier, trying to stay awake.

''Arise, you must stay vigilant'' muttered the combatant,
''Or youll suffer the same fate as private Melicent.''

But her eyes grew weary then she fell into a deep sleep,
Before the enemy quietly slipped into their keep.

They were bested by ruthless devils more savage than beast,
All the while the sleeping soldier slumbered against a tree.

Luckily for her, she was mistaken for a body,
So they left her be and continued with their killing spree.

Time passed since the enemy took the army by surprise,
They outnumbered them nine to two and left not one alive.

When the enemy were done having the time of their lives,
They merrily marched home with plunder and kukri knives.

In the midst of her fallen comrades, the soldier woke up,
In a state of shock at what she had just seen, she choked up.

''This isnt a prank nor am i dreaming'' wailed the soldier,
''My...brothers and sisters in arms are six feet under!''

''Before long, their mangled corpses will be food for scavengers,
Then nature will bury whats left of these warriors.''

Alone and orderless, the soldier randomly went west,
A tragic choice she would ultimately come to regret.

Now up ahead, roughly half a kilometer away,
Was the entire enemy, camping beside a great lake.

''This can not be happening'', whispered the protagonist,
''How did I end up near the camp of these terrorist?!''

But before she could try to sneak away, she got captured,
Embarrassed by her mistake, the soldier felt so awkward.

After hours of abuse, she was brought before their leader,
He demanded to know how she survived their massacre.

However, the female soldier preferred to stay silent,
Which caused the commander to get extremely violent.

He ordered his guard to pluck out one of her amber eyes,
And use an urumi to render asunder her thighs.

She was no stranger to torture and refused make a sound,
Though she was covered in a pool of her blood in the ground.

Her hands were bound in bronze chains by the commanders order,
But little did he know he had made a deadly error.

Whilst a male guard lead her to a human sized cage at night
She slipped out her chains once she saw he was preoccupied.

Immediately, she wrapped her chains around the guards neck,
Fueled by rage, she choked him with her might till he dropped dead.

Nearby was a deep hole she used to conceal the dead guard,
But first, she took his uniform and cut off his male part.

Later, she blended in with her enemy in disguise,
Her plan was to destroy them all with a fatal device.

Now in an empty tent, she performed a ritual,
Her special blood was needed to make her wish possible.

Soon after,12 ghostly heads hovered out of her symbol,
They were ancient wish granters who were all ethereal.

''Your request?'' asked the 12 heads floating in the air,
''Fashion me a bomb'', begged the female soldier in despair.

''As you wish'', answered the 12 heads she summoned from heaven,
''With this, Ill avenge them'', declared the servicewoman.

Just then, word had quickly spread that the soldier had escaped,
So the enemy searched high and low for her in great haste.

Suddenly, they were bewitched by the soldier's melody,
One by one, they mindlessly marched to her tent, slowly.

Out stepped the female soldier standing firm and unafraid,
Wrapped around her body, was the bomb the 12 heads had made.

At the cost of her life, she ignited her lethal bomb,
And at last, the whole enemy both small and great, was gone.

Nalum, Nalum the brave and mighty female warrior!
May your story live on within my poem forever!
on scheduless days of stifling heat
when orderless ranks of canines beat
up the backroad and down the street
into the wood and onto the steep

a glorious arbor among thankless trees
"forever" says the whispering breeze
never mind the never-stop bees
the nimble squirrel is playing freeze

if ever there were a guest-
a sitting stone
but never a guest in this place
my place alone

drenched inside the thicket
a thousand thorny dreams
closing in on me
clamping down on me
altogether surrounding me

as home begins its beckoning
I reason it's a reckoning
I reckon there's a reason
for everything

skyward a fleeting glimpse
of a foregone future forlorn
shatters like a shadow
that a light shines upon
irinia Mar 2023
bold and assiduous like a young hip
our glowing silence tears the air
the unconceived truth of blood
you wander around my chest as if in a
procession towards the delirium of spring
my wrists have no dream to hide
the eyes confess: falling skies are crushing
stone by stone the world in which you didn't exist
my body buried in light
an orderless language, the rest is details
Peter Sinead Jan 2016
Hinged

It's a feeling of bulkiness
Gathering up the strength
But also the coordination
In front of the mirror
A certain Goliath effort for
Planning, detailing, getting affairs
In order, all in orderless care

Carbon planes rattle the
Hotel air conditioners on the 2nd
Floor below the outside balcony
Smoky white dancing lines trace
And replace a clear day view
Like so long ago when all the world
Was just a moment, just a day,
Just a boy and his thoughts

I made all the right calls to
Make sure it all goes smoothly
The plan in place and ready set
I slip off the Adidas shoelaces
And place them to the right hand
Side of the bed with the night stand with the magazine the hotel
Put out,
The Kardashians' latest baby story
About giving birth in designer high heels
The eyes all white and faded in
Too much light

The cord in place, I move the
Desk chair closer to the center of
The room, the wheels squeaking
Like the raising and lowering of the crab traps from the shore house, Long Beach days shine on
Forever ago

My feet wobble as I climb onto
The chair, that few-second elevated vertigo
Feeling obscured further as I slip
Off my glasses one last time,
Blind and blurred to all the world I cannot see

Tears heap to vapor and disperse with a weary glaze down
My cheeks as
Life seeps away into mortal corners, boiling goosebumps on my arms
Drowning nevermore,
I feel the thresh of the cord
As this world turns to the next
And a soul quietly exhales
Hadrian Veska Apr 2022
The sun has faded
Yet another one rises
The stars bleed out
Dripping down and running
From stagnant constellations
All order has in the end
Birthed an orderless chaos
Soon also in the coming age
Will this endless chaos
Lead to unbreakable order
Thus it is and has always been
Since long before any mortal eyes
Saw a shimmer of light
Reflect within them
Tepid tap water
runs like my blood
born of a cloven kingdom

Shopworn Heartbeats
and the mimicry of fleshy brilliance
this is true evil taunting me
Cry dry a cavalcade of muses
materialized
in ***** born vice

::: but they are gone now

no more
Orderless ******* sprayed in synthetic passion
On the icy stares of idiosyncratic basement love screens

Dopamine hits fire like crack pipes as I join the
Legions of low fidelity fellowships

— The End —