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Kate Jan 2016
Without you here
I can't help but to wonder
what it must be like to live on the Otherside
We are separated into two
While we collide at times
we mix as good as oil and water.
How do you manage
to hide your feelings so well?
They're bury deeper
than my black light will show.
As much as I envy the Otherside
I always ache that we could be intertwined.
That way neither of us will have to sacrifice
what we can not change.
But I'm not like the others on My side.
While they enjoy the company of hollow sounds
I'll rather die than be left all alone.
Very much like yourself.
But you will never show that emotion
that could potentially leave to conflict and commotion.
Cause even though I speak in "I'm fines"
I'll be lying, cause I
could never live on the Otherside.
there will always be two sides
Have you ever been
to the otherside?

I think I have.. perhaps once or maybe twice.

How is one to know what the otherside is?
I think one finds out when one gets there.
Hollow Steve Jul 2015
Catapault me into chaos,
I wish to get a little closer.
Your tainted eyes speak to me.
I wish to get to know you,
just a little bit better.

If I can handle it,
I'll stick around and play.
Too much pain is a killjoy.
If it burns too much,
I'll blow out the fire someday.

Criss-crossdresser,
I'm seduced into your submission.
My identity remains in shambles,
I'll see you on the otherside,
as I walk through this transition.

A possible phase,
or a permanent reside?
I am lost in mindless self indulgence.
If I dance in the rain,
I'll no longer have to hide.

An eternal blue flame,
made of youth and spirit.
Love could only feed the madness.
To remain the same,
is something my mind could never inhabit.

So dance, and dance,
and sing the tunes of duality.
I experiment with composure.
And once I find balance,
my dream will be that much closer
Andrew McElroy Apr 2013
I will never cease to
   be released to
      the underworld
         above your cloud
In your ****** hair
   the sand says to
      stay slightly shady
        and wave quietly to
           the ghosts on shore
Friends and demons
   Crash on the collapsed dunes
      I'll wait for you
         To marry the sky
            In the silence of the wind
Lady of the night
    Stray the sunshine away
        Glass shards in my red eyes
            Cans of old beer are there
               Still in the grass
I'll be sitting in the memory
    Of the sun from yesterday
        Today's little smile in the night
            Your precious hands carry me there
I wonder why I never tried
   Harder and harder our stone got
        While it was drenched in the rain
            As the trees fell down
               My two palms were set ablaze
We sent up a smoke signal
    To the God(s) in heaven or the hell
        In your life, seven lives, two lines

The otherside will show us a certain door
Where the people all live equally and infinitely
Take me there.
Third Eye Candy Mar 2013
Barbarians At The Bill Gates

Kings in a Nutshell of Plots,
Machiavellian; made Lords Of Infinite Beige.
a Workspace now a  Dead-Space in The Heart of an Artist... Scaling, Mount Dew, at a snail's pace.
Behemoth Logarithms,
Jammed in a hot box. with cigarette soot blocking die-cut vents
The cousin with the soft-spot.
Hair, Nobly Re-Disheveled  by Hit and Miss ads, like
crow's feet dancing on insomniac spines, in and around, the Yawning Cathode D-Rez
Of all Villages, M. Night. Ramadan, forged, into Code Soldiers
With No Code to reverse Schrodinger's Black Cat, Back in The Bag...
The Genie, from a corner apartment in Manhattan, to a bedroom in a Bottle of Lightning.
Only Reactive Jazz
Cosmonauts, embedding feathers in " White Hats "
A Moral Avatar.

Hack Lads in The Boonies of Way Ahead of The Curve.
An Unsound lack of Judgment, echoing by Proxy, like Mr. Hyde;
Passing for a binary Schizophrenic. Swallowing Blackberries, Seeds of Anarchy and All.
Crowd-Sourcing the wisdom of Crowds of People
With cup-holders, the Elite call CD-Rom
Stand-by.
A Quest For Firewire. A billion portals,, huddled in chaos.
In the lens of  The Camera-Obscura, hidden in the USB Port
In the Fuzzy Logic of Our Narcissism.
SQL that Ends Well \ with a Backlash To Pi Charts
Of Privileged  Information,
Cooling, only in The Windows, Facing a Social Network
Resting, on a sill of Approval by Market Share and -
Ad *******

An eye of  a needle, peeling onions in a brave new world, weeping for the pure, post-ironic
Joy, Of Threading a Nano-Camel
Through The Eye of a Needles' Parable.  To Aesop the gravy of grave doubt
and reasonable suspicions off
Teutonic Plates

To an Atheist. The Heavyside Layer of Bricked Phones
and Dissonance,
May Find a Contract, 'Comes with Astroglide.
And a toaster.

Floppy Disc-Figurements of Our Right To Privacy.  
Resurfaced By The Naivete
Of a Target Audience, With a Heads-up Display,
A 4D Hologram  
Of Steve Jobs,  
Exported over dark fiber optics;  
Silicons of Prosaic non-Existence
Overclocking the Swatch
On  a wrist

Banning Calligraphy

Ward of the State
Of the Economy
With a Cult
Following


A Hologram of Steve Jobs
To sharpen the bleeding edge
with a moon rock from The OtherSide of Billions of Dollars.
The After-Accolades with the Spanish moss From Taiwan
Where Dragons Of  Technology
Shed limits, that metastasize rapid growth
Of Personal Stock by -
adding a Touch Screen Feature to an App For Clout.
To Out-Monopoly with a Walled-Garden
Designed by Stanley Kubrick's 2001 [ Available Space Odyssey  ]
A Terabyte
leaving Half a Worm
In your Apple.

A Difference Engine, differently Desired

Dumped
On a Corner in
Your Circle
Of Confirmed
Friends.


rocking XP like an OG on Food Stamps and The Fringe.
Centered Better And Re-Posted.
Katlyn Orthman Apr 2014
Lay my body rich with coins
As my dawn turns to dusk I will depart
Bless my soul to be reborn
And pray I keep my heart

Charon waits upon his boat
To carry me to the Otherside
I'll travel The River Styx
And marry time, as I am Waiting's bride

Bearded Ferryman of the dead
Refuse me not as I pay your debt
Tell Hades to lift the gates
For fate and I have met

Guide this monstrous beast
Along the waters spine
As we set off towards Afterlife
Where waits the Underworlds divine
Just a short poem about Charon (Kharon) a ferryman of the underworld in Greek mythology who served under Hades. Greek people would bury their dead with one obol, or coin, so they may pay his fee and be able to cross the river. Without the coin the souls could not pass. Some would make it without the coin and others would not.
people tried to tell me to stay away from you
then i saw the otherside that i never knew
from angel to a devil almost instantly
you showed me your colors i didnt want to see

i wished i had listened to what the people say
wished when i met yoi that i walked away
you made of fool of me.  didnt show regret
turned in to the girl i wished i never met

thought everthing was rumours i didnt listen too
what the people told me everyword was true
till i saw the otherside.  hoped  i would never see
usd me and abused me made a fool of me

i wished i had listened to what the people say
wished when i met yoi that i walked away
you made of fool of me didnt show regret
turned in to the girl i wished i never met
Solaces Jun 2018
It was a boardwalk on the stars it seemed.. On the otherside of the universe.. I got to walk it.. It was raining light here and there.. The air smelled of star jasmine..  I could see your eyes every now and again as a raindrop of light would pass by them..  They were a deep dreamy brown that seem to swirl away all of my worries.. I was in your dream.. Somehow I made it here.. Or maybe you summoned me here..  I wonder what I look like to you in the fallen light rain? Do my eyes shine as bright as yours?
In her dream...
Stu Harley Aug 2016
it started
with
a flame
when
we
burn down love
it
ignited
with you
but
no one to blame
on
the
otherside of the flame
Stu Harley Jun 2013
the hourglass
full of
shifting sand
falling slowly
from my hands
through the
otherside of
the empty glass
hands moving
through space and time
surely we know
every moment
every minute sublime
still waiting
anticipating
ticks of the clock
fills the
other side of
the empty glass
029473847493 May 2019
My house looks nice
From this distance,
I could walk up my driveway
And open the door,
See the taste of sorrow
Abundant
Throughout.

Will the fearful curtain
Shed my sight?
Shall I exalt
Amidst its tasty blender?
Enter,
I know I have to enter.
I will enter,
And be pleased
By the otherside.
Stu Harley May 2014
what glee
and gleam
i dream
a dream of
the crescent moon
at night
that hang from
starry sky in sight
the neon white smile of
black and purple
stripped cheshire cat
that ask
who are you
before he
fades away
with delight
on the
otherside of night
Kevin Miller May 2010
Isn’t it



Wonderful,

The suffocating love of a hundred people
They want you, what’s best for you
What’s best for you, what is best for you?
Rejecting them means rejecting love,
but you are in short supply of you
As demand increases, so does price
the price of you
the price is you.
Sanity sets in, escape’s let out
every night let it out,
beats staying in
Some are in short supply of love

*******

Not you
The suffocating love of a hundred people let you know
Across the room, across the country
a hundred people can’t help
shedding ‘bout one sixty does
only, you have to shed it
anchors only work when attached

love

it pulls your judgment, mind from its foundation
wants to make your choices
wants to make your coffee
you start to save you,
in a container with a seal
the shiny latch makes a pop noise
You can see through the otherside
No one can get in,
Not with the pop noise
Its where you keep you
in the house, Close the door
pressure mounts
let it out in

drops,

thoughts and blood
watch it heal, know you’re better
lets you know,
you are better, you are better
You are Better,
better isn’t with help, it doesn’t come with age
it’s a choice you make
the suffocating love of a hundred people
they pile on blankets, keeps you warm
but at a hundred blankets deep you aren’t moving

move.

Don’t think about me, don’t think about him
Just move and keep moving,
roots and anchors
Learn which is which
Remember which is which
Act on which is which
you grow roots, anchors are placed upon you
usually around the neck region.
Box up all the memories, store them if you like
But don’t stay attached, burn if necessary
Anchors only work if they’re attached
You can’t ‘be ready’ for something that’s already happened
It’s the past in those boxes,
the fond death of past nothings,
Life only exists in the future,
Not to be too dramatic but we’re dying, right now
in the present
we breath out life out as we speak
Only the future has life, stored as potential
just take the steps
cut out the cancer
if you want to be ready for something, be ready for what’s next
(A note to Jessica)


copyright 2010
there was a little labrador he was very kind
he was very thoughtful and loved to help the blind
help them cross the road he would be there guide
help them cross in safety  to the otherside.

picking up the post coming through the door
moving objects in the way clearing up the floor
walking by there side while they were in the park
when ever there was danger he would give a bark

he loved helping people especially the blind
always there when needed and always very kind.
Kevin Theal Jun 2010
We sip green beer bottles under lime lights
With her ginseng tongue talking calming evergreen
And her eye’s are envious and big like granny smith apples
And now we’re downing absinthe on the other side
Laughing, getting drunk, and eating green grapes
Her skin is smooth and cool jade
But fragile
A cut under a blade of grass
But it’s emerald, and it’s all the riches we need
Because while everyone was playing life like a game with rules.
We were breaking fences and creating unfair stipulations for others.

No one is passing the finish line if I keep moving it up.
It’s not me raining on a parade
I’m closing down every street.

But still…
We have the pill poppers and the drop outs
The can do’s take up all the good face time so they say
But all I see is a weak person
Socially awkward isn’t an excuse

So if we’re all
Wild animals
Then we
Eat our young
And if you’re into that
Then we’re talking business
But until then
Write your eulogies on crumpled up bath room paper
I get the bland fairy tale story, rock band, slam poetry, baked cookies, digital photographs.
And it’s force fed down my mouth
Like a baby
**** it all
I want things to better
And I expect so much more…

If our lives are just a waiting room for something better
We’re stranded
So I’m leaving behind the white walls
And the cool
Linoleum
Floor
So I may be wildly foolish
But a slight chance at splendor
Is better than misery as a sure things
I'm moving up the hill
to see the other side
-Kevin T
Brandy Nicole Mar 2015
The Angel of Light or
The Angel of Death
All most choose,
and a choice I've made
The Angel of Death my friend of years,
For what is more beautiful than taking your last breathe
Knowing my greatest purpose lies ahead on the otherside
You ******, exotic,
Beautiful creature.

I could not be more intrigued by you.

I drove,
46 miles,
just to meet you,
you screamed at me for being late.
I wasn't.
I just live farther from your perspective than you can imagine.

I saw your face,
then I saw your eagerness,
Then I played this game,
Where I googled every word you said,
became an expert on it.
Throwing back refferences to things
i've never seen.

When I rolled in with my cigarette lit,
Sporting my badboy leather jacket,
you asumed I was this rebel.
This dangerous,
adventurous,
amazing creature.
Dropped onto this earth to entertain you.

Today.
That's exactlly what I am.

I'm 46 miles away from my home town.

My foam swords,
magic the gathering cards,
Dungeon and dragons playing self
Packaged tightly in the lockbox at my bedroom door.

The daddy, I became years ago
because I wanted too.

The lover I was raised to be,
watching nothing but romantic comedies my entire childhood
like some sort of propaganda to be the perfect boyfriend.
Tucked crisply into my bed.

My smolder is a gas mask.
you are the poison gas.
It was invented specifically for me to survive when I'm in the trenches with you.
My attitude is an army.
I hold myself like a commander shouting orders at my mind like it needs a leader.

“Stop calling her beautiful, maggot! She wants you to take charge.”

“Sir, yes sir!”

...So uh...
What do you wanna do today?

“What do you think you're doing?
Don't give her options!
Tell her where you're going!”


“Sir, yes, sir”

We're getting coffee.

We go to her favorite coffee house, I guessed.

She gets a nutella mocha.

I get a 16oz almond milk maple syrup latte

She calls me a hipster,
I laugh, I don't disagree.

I give her the radio,
“You pick the music”

“What do you think you're doing maggot!?”

“trust me,
we need to find out what music she likes before I play my music.
It's very important.”


I can pull brilliance out of any genre,
bands she's never heard of, but she'll fall in love with.
She plays show tunes.

Oh...

... Jackpot!

I start the conversation, you ever heard of Rocky Horror?

You ever hear of
Doctor Horribles Sing Along Blog?

You ever hear of
Little Shop of Horrors?

You ever hear of
Repo, The Genetic Opera?

You ever hear of
Hedwig and The Angry Inch?

She has.
All of it.
Every last word.
And she knows all of the words.
In fact,
every song I sing,
she sings along.
Word for word.

I  crack the whip,

you ever heard of Bo Burnham?

She has.

This girl might be the one.

“What do you think you're doing maggot?
Don't fall in love with this girl already,
Don't fall in love with this girl at all.”


“Sir, yes, sir”

We walk the beach,
Singing,
Dancing.
Every word of every song either of us start the other knows all the words.
She's breathtaking.
I can't believe it happened myself.
We chase each other in the sand.

I confess.

“You're actually the first person i've seen in real life from tinder...
I hear all these stories of couples meeting people for threesomes online and then murdering them.
I was half expecting you to **** me.”

She says:

“Well we didn't get to the end of the beach yet.”

I laugh.... wait... is she serious?

She laughs. “No really, i'm a sociopath.
My boyfriends waiting at the rocks down there and when we
Start to **** he's gonna jump out and slit your throat.
The redness of your blood spilling on the rocks is going to make me so,
*******,
Wet.”

This sounds like a great Idea.

She texts her boyfriend and asks if it's okay to kiss me.
When he doesn't reply she spams him.

Babe.

Babe.

C'mon Babe.

Really, Babe.

Babe.

Babe.

Babe.

It starts to rain,
We stay and get soaked together,
We don't care that we're wet, we keep singing.
The rain stops.
We get in my car.
I drive her to portland,
We park in the parking garage,
because i don't understand...
Signs...

I buy her dinner,

Not because it's the polite, gentlemanly thing to do,
I'd do that without the leather jacket, no.
because her sugar was low
she was having a panic attack
her boyfriend and her were probably breaking up and I felt bad.
Her boyfriend finally texts her back.

“Yeah, do what you want.”

I kiss her.

She asked me too before he gave permission, and my colonel said to do it

But I've been on the otherside of that text messege.

And even knowing what she wanted, I was waiting for that reply.
I don't know that boy.

But he deserved that

We go back to the parking garage, and she does not waste time,
My belt undone,
Her mouth eager,
Did I mention that this was the mission?
After awhile She asks to go to the back.
We do.
She removes the leather jacket.
this is her chance to wear
The leather jacket.
I make her ***,
I have this brief thought that maybe she faked it for me, but then
I can taste the truth,
I'm proud.


“Good job, maggot.”

“Sir, thank you, sir”


I drive the 46 miles back to kennebunk to drop her off.
She keeps my shirt.
I get home and find her phone charger in my backseat.
“Looks like we have a second date,"

I text her. “you forgot something, beautiful.
And I think you might want it.”
A true Story.
Lunar Luvnotes Mar 2016
The beaten path is hardest to go alone but it makes one stronger. One never wants to admit to oneself that misery is the predecessor to change, ushering it like the pilot ushers the plane down upon the runway.  This is a new destination you'd never have known. That is why we go up and then down, otherwise you wouldn't care for clouds. They'd be like stop signs posted on every street of every town you can't escape from. Don't you think whales like to take a dip in our atmosphere with the same exhilaration we dive down into their ocean? Marine life has it's trials, it all seems so buoyant and peacful, but its another jungle down there. Beautiful until you live it and predators lurk every corner and algae field. Everyone eating the next guy, if its your residence, it is no vacation. Its not so simple just cuz they've not got rent to pay and corrupt politics. Babies on the way while no financial burden make most species crazy. Try being a single mother just trying to keep your kids well enough hidden just to go off to find good eats for them. They have very emotional lives out there, full of pain and suffering. If whales could get drunk, mermaids would charge and set up breweries. But the ocean would dilute any profits, and two tons of blubber each would call demand too high and so whales throw themselves into our world just to escape. They could gulp the air so low key, surfacing like submarines, instead they splash mountains with their ferve, the same way we get down, tossing cares across dance floors. And we wonder why when  they take a breath, they reach for the sky, they just want to be free, where nothing of their world can touch them. And we wonder why when it's not enough, they just give up, just like us. Massive escapists desensitizing to the joys in the depths of their waters. We wonder why we find them so sad layed up on our beaches, you see it in their despondent eye. They just want to die in that memory of exhiliration. One. Last. Time. But they're not happy. Cuz they were always chasing a high that fleetingly springed them from all worry. They lay knowing its the last time and they wonder what's gonna become of them when its all over. They just figure what lays on the otherside, or even nothing has got to be better. Maybe they're right,  or maybe all the off kilter chemicals got the better of them. Full moons got them all emotional just like us, gravity pulling all their painful memories to the surface, pulling them up out of the ocean all hopeless. Shoot maybe some of them dont even mean it, they were just so tired of the krill or baby seal murda life, or sharks poaching their babies and needed longer and longer til oneday they got too sleepy and the tide snuck down too low. Like when I pass out in the shower when it's hot enough, I swear I was about to get out..then, ****. Maybe that's why they're so ******* sad. They didn't mean for it to be over, they just got caught up in that feeling. I bet the old ones though go on purpose, just to spite the sharks that took their babies out they'd rather rot in the sea breeze they loved. Or maybe they're so depressed at the loss of their child they just want it to be over. They carry their babies in their bellies just like us, I bet they get depressed like us or the smarter dogs. Being a whale, or any sober creature can be very hard, but at least if you're not running from it, you might see through the storm for the beauty of its strength, releasing fear to just stand in awe of it. You can learn to cope with pain in at least better measure to sprinting in laps, without intention, you're just on the track, even if its as vast as the pacific, adriatic, atlantic, doesnt matter all the waters you cross, they all just ran back into themselves. See, the whale can only cope, no emotional escape route, so no matter what comes, whale is miles wiser. Their calls sound a little sad but so hauntingly beautiful. Do not beach yourself humans, in your little ways everyday. Stop feeding this disbelief in yourself. You were given this brain to choose to overcome this pain, to communicate in new ways. If you get tired of something just cuz you're used to it, you've done fell off your rock, you slipped to drown in your own riptide, to get pummeled to death. Or as my Papa woulda said, you're not playing with a full deck. You drown in intoxicant, whatever your vice, liquor, uppers, downers, shopping, food, flirting, ******* to numb life's beating. You're running from sobriety, from reality, from those people you don't love anymore cuz they can't jive with your illusions. You'll look for every reason why your psyches not the problem. If you'd not only accept but seek the need to heal,  you wouldn't need constant change of scenery just to feel something, to feel snippets of sanity, mini vacations from your daily miseries. New people, places and substances are just so exhilarating, cuz you can't handle yourself. If you could, each listed above would be blessings of oneness, not necessity. Running is only blocking your life from mattering as much as it should. You squander potential wandering in circles inside yourself. I smoked **** habitually since I was twelve, it didn't really hurt me right, just my dump trucked loads of brain cells? Wrong! Sobriety is the hardest but most rewarding excursion so far. I delight everyday in the opportunities I can receive just cuz I can think so clearly. I have an occasional shot or glass of wine with coworkers and think God I feel good. Then go home and think and plot, how can I attain that joy without consuming a dollar, compromising my body?  How can I be so at home in my skin that I don't need that just to feel like this?  I'll let you know if I ever figure it out. It's the big ******* mystery, isn't it. I THINK my point is,  we would never know what's so good to be cherished if we always had it made. They call it a beautiful struggle, and i really think they're onto God with that one. Wherever your feet lay, next time you look down at them in dismay, remember your pain is the best teacher you never had to pay.  It makes you great, it makes you an epic ******* trilogy of the past present and future.  You'll get through this day, I promise you. Whatever it proves to be to you, I pray oneday you hold the kingdom. Oneday you'll praise yourself for holding on. Oneday you'll stop running. You'll just wake up and feel at home inside yourself how the wise whale makes peace with the ocean. Tempering the binges to the surface. As above so below. You just have to find the thrill within the hand you're dealt and make yourself better for it.
When Katie gets drunk, she dances and rants about nature. This whole scenario got real complex real quick. I just picture the whale telling the other whale,  yea man I don't surface like that,  I don't hit it hard like I used to. It just doesn't do it for me anymore, I've just learned it's not worth it. Sorry i speak in circles I clearly need to learn the art of editing. But that seems daunting so fuuuuck it. To everyone in pain,  if u ever wanna talk I'm not gonna lie I **** at keeping in touch but say hi and I'll say hi and I'll remember at least to pray for u
amme Nov 2016
Skating on thin ice my whole life like a figureskater.
First price on sight but the stripes, resembles a broken picture.

A golddigger... Go figure.
Writing straight from my heart so every bar tender. I remember a night in december,
from a walk in the park to a shot in the dark, I wasnt that cleaver.
Pretended to be concious and smart but now the scars on my arms shows that Im a beginner.
Sober for 3 years yet addicted to your liquor.
Sparked my transmitter when ladys slipper fell off after our first dinner,
But I never knew cinderella was a heavy hitter.
Couldnt connect the dots so now im on the ground with seven stars above my head like I got hit with the big dipper.

PTSD...
But **** all the modesty, I just need honesty...
My writtens a blasphemy (blast for me) but I can't be myself anymore like broken prophecy so God,
accept my apology, beacuse there's a monster inside of me that produces sick thoughts like it knew biology.


Some might say im insane but **** my brain, my heart is always by my side. Deranged thoughts but love tells me when its a lie.
So stay in my lane and embrace the fact that we all are going to die or live to busy and miss the heartbeat that takes you to the otherside.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2018
/                                america, july 18th:
  and the utter media shambles -
like ****** and steroids
for the uninitiated -
     tongues without the rattlesnake
trill of an ᚨᚱ:
   numbed w'ah w'ah peddling
of woe to row the sinking boat:
maniac adult funfair
attempting a nostalgia
for the playground game
of bulldog...

                russia, 25th march:
the kemerovo fire (siberia) -
          children frying, screaming,
perhaps even hoping -
  a shying herod, the example
of: as moloch descended...
          prayers in the fire
                  by the innocents...

england, july 19th -
   alternative to rehydrating
using water...
    a generous 5 hour sleep -
******* on the remains
of last night's lemon
     used to infuse the subtle
smoky of bell's whiskey,
playlist:

- the jon spencer blues
  explosion (bellbottoms)
- britney spears (criminal)
- twenty one pilots (heathens)
- calvin harris (this is what you came for)
- camila cabello (habana)
- rihanna (disturbia)
- birdbrain (youth of america)
- ghost (ritual)
- focus (hocus pocus)
- edwyn collins (a girl like you)
- the guess who (american woman)
- the knack (my sharona)
- cronica (herr mannelig)

and then onto buckling in
4 beers and thinking
about black holes as the pin-head
of antimatter -
a dead sun...
     dead, but not dead...

   and the first, crude graphic
tomb raider game...

   rather than having completed
it...
     since only owning
a demo...

                 investigating
the possibility of 2D objects in
3D space...
       well: the universe isn't even
exactly 3D: it's hyper-3D...
    but in the tomb raider game
you could walk up to a minor
detail in the game, a fern,
and observe two-dimensionality
in a "three dimensional space"...

   namely: the ferns were all 2D,
and rotated within a "hyperbole"
of the eye -
   however you observed the "object"
it rotated round and round,
never allowing you to see
    its demoniac otherside -

i can only expect dead suns to
behave in such a manner -
   two dimensional objects in a three
dimensional subject matter -
almost paradoxical -

     rotating at immense speed...
invigorating a near but not quiet
a postportem of a death...

       and you really can see UV light
surface
staring at a glaring hot sun with
a naked eye -
   and see the same hyper-rotation -
it's almost like looking at
molten silver, but with a hint
of violet - i.e. akin phosphorescence:
but in the daytime...

and who said you need to
ingest hallucinogenics -
    and enter the labyrinth of a short,
short, history,
    of the chipmunk caveman?

i'm just drunk, you're probably
sober...
    but those guys doing
a timothy leary sermon?
   they're...
     gone.......................... gone -
     they hit the tangens curve.
Raven Mar 2017
Does the crimson rose grow through my heart now...
Will it crumble on top of my gravestone
Will it lose its pedals after I have breathed upon it
I can't sustain it.
I've chatted with the trees, they've held me. My grandpa did the same. though I will never remember.
I rest my head on the damp moss, as i laid my cheek on his. against my ear.
I only hear the worms moving on by
living the simplest of lives
I must say, I've never been so curious of the other side
Ironically, that's what keeps me going
I'm saving the last piece of chocolate on the shelf for when my heart is to finally bleed
there was a little labrador he was very kind
he was very thoughtful and love to help the blind
help them cross the road he would be there guide
help them cross in safety  to the otherside.

picking up the post coming through the door
moving objects in the way clearing up the floor
walking by there side while they were in the park
when ever there was danger he would give a bark

he loved helping people especially the blind
always there when needed and always very kind.
Got Guanxi Oct 2015
The weight lifted of my shoulders,
Like a gym session,
In heaven,
The clouds were proud.

In essence the lesson never learnt.
Fingers burnt and fractured fingernails.

Fairytalesand horror stories.
A never boring oxymoron.

Who's wrong?
Those stubborn hoofs,
They came through the roof.
Valiant stallion,
That's you,
In a horseshoe.

Nailed to my soul.
My swan song consequence.

We set fire to the same fence
We made sense and perched upon on those past nights.
A past life maybe.

You shared your last bite,
With me.

The last laugh was distinctly humbling,
Your tumbling grumbling,
But still wondering if I was alright.

You saved my life every night.
Welcomed in your humble arms.

You never turned me away,
You never turned your back to me.
Actually,
You had my back,
And I had my backpack.

No questions asked,
No matter what those housewives said.

The last laugh is yet to come,
My beautiful friend.

We grew together -
Jekyll and hide,
Dumb and dumber,
Profound the otherside.

They were never inclined
To try to understand.

Why try?
Gossip and tactics underhand.
They wonder why we turn the cheek,
To the otherside..

The envy is greener in the troubled mind.
A kid ****** up and they wonder why.

There wasn't a second in time,
You second guessed.
Why?

You understood through brotherhood,
The love is unconditional
And I miss you more than a grown man should.

Anxiety consumed the bones in my body,
Consumed in shanty tombs,
You made room in your room,
For me.

Time after time.

I broke through the otherside,
You took your time,
Looking at you live,
I'm not remotely surprised.

The sun hides sometimes,
But we shine,
We shine.

Thee beeline sting my eyes,
We stayed awake for days,

2 am toast again,
Covered in butter,
Missing loafs, just crusts.
Soaked in brotherhood,
It's all good.

To toast again,
The best man.
The best laid plans in a world I was yet to understand.

I was underhanded,
And it haunts my thoughs,
The blood on my hands is more vibrant today than it was ever was before.

I made a home on your floor,
But I  endeavoured for more.

Hale stones weathered storms,
A scapegoat from Wythenshawe.

Immature to the core,
A star,
Sailor,
Surfing clouds of smoke,
Me, you, Treeman and Maz.

Four to the floor.

My selfish insistence,
Envies the distance between is.
Everyday,
Tomorrow
And yesterday.
I made all my mistakes in that safe place haven,
You gave me.
With mutua respect x

You never looked down on me,
Whilst I was down on my luck.

I'm looking up to you now,
I hope your proud,

And that's just the bad times,
A pastime -
Alas,
We laughed until sunrise -
Sometimes it was hard to stop.

Those moments locked in a treasure chest
And I cough with a heavy chest,
But only you and I hold the key to those stupid little memories.

Until the cemetery and four feet deep,
Thank you for making me believe in the fellow human being
My most personal poem
Ash Saveman Feb 2016
Imagining his voice,
his scent,
the way he would cup my face,
his control.

Reliving the ****
reliving the abuse

Hating myself
I did this
I should have left

A year ago
it hurts

Don't talk about it
it never happened

Scared
comming out

I was ***** and abused by my boyfriend
said he loved me

used me and threw me out for the next

took my virginity
my innocence
my body

held onto my mind
he dosen't let go

his face haunts me every day,
moving to the otherside of the world and he stays put in me

Hating myself for being *******
Apricot Sky May 2017
Dare they wonder of the other side
Passed rusted chain links and swallowed pride
Through endless fields of grasses much greener
Than the hopes and dreams of a life much sweeter

As the seasons changed, so did the view
Of the closed gate doors that locked me from you
Curiosity killed the cat, they say
As she edged a little closer, a little farther and then one day..
She hopped that fence and led herself astray

There was no turning back to the life she knew
She had risked so much just to see you
But yet,  you were nowhere to be seen
There was nothing there,nothing but a dream and the grass....
The grass that now seems  a little less green
Quisha Jun 2014
"Saw you walk past the pub last week. Hope you’re good."

I saw you too and I got good
But it took a minute.

If I sound nonchalant,
It’s because you wanted me to be.
If I fall silent,
It’s because I gotta be fair to me too.
You can up and leave
( I guess you already knew that)
But I remain.
So I don’t know what else to say…
To you…
Stranger.
Stu Harley Aug 2014
when
you look
into
the mirror
think twice
because
death is
the
otherside of life
Life will drag you along even when you're standing still
A ghost writer told me to take one step and watch
Not life but the waves of the living take you and carry you as your next step
Be cautious of your actions for I have seen it all
Love turn to chaos and turmoil build up within the gentlest of creatures
I am the evil that can be within
But with the life givin and strength provided I give your to wake remember this
The truth is life will go on without you but will you go on without it?
Kate Mar 2013
you fill the hole that he left behind
you keep my heart beating on time
everything he said you've shown me that he lied
if someone cared as much as what they claim they'd be there for you at every moment of the day, you my love have taught me that
everything you have done for me has put his love to shame
you have given me reason enough to rid my mind of his name
his face, his voice, his eyes and his games
i loved him and i probably always will; a love that strong doesn't ever disappear for good
and now i know how it feels to be on the other side, to have someone love me for all of time.
Dustin Goodman Dec 2014
The last poem I am wasting on you.

After all the **** the world has put me through.

I will never die, no matter what your eyes may see.

Within your mind there is no decay, believe and it will set you free.

Death and Life are one in the same.

There is nobody else that I can blame.

I give my flesh so you can win.

I lost everything all my friends.

I opened so many doors that a normal life could not be anymore

I broke so many hearts so I could not escape it ******* tears me apart.

Just want to be happy but it is too late.

Wish I could start over but this is faith.

I love all but it wasn't enough.

If I listened would I know what I do and be who I am?

Sorry if I am different and a ******* to you, but if you only knew.

I have learned and seen so much you have no clue.

Please forgive me for I appear and open your mind to the unclear.
Bows N' Arrows Sep 2017
A palpable discord keeps me
turning all through the night
until the late rays of Sun
shine by again
I want a dreamcatcher
Feathery-spider web-
To keep my hypnagogic rest
sacred to me
And then I can wish
him closer...
Without a separating sea
I reserved my sleep to calmer
nights where my dainty ribs
caressed an incense-ridden
wind
My dreams are a shade
happier than me
I found my wrists
bedecked in fine jewelery
There's no chiming of antique
clocks in my sleepy
subconscious knots.
My eyes were not
corrosed over
so when he spoke I
comprehended
with crystal orbs
I'd hoped I find him through
disheveled bedsheets under
the waxing moon...
It illuminated my skin and sent me
soundly reveling in the hazy countenance
To me he's Elvis' love child
He's a wish fulfilled to me
I discovered an idol
I write letters,
coveted, held close
I worship what I
know of him
My thoughts are almost this
tangible-thing like a rope
I could grab and
make a knoose out of
perhaps it's time to slay
the golden bull
I struck his wayward glance
by some silver spring of snow
He's travelled to the ruins
of cathedrals with
chipped limestone on
the doors arched-shape...
darkness on the otherside...
Mother Mary follows,
walking through some threshold
hallway
Crooked stem, bent leaves...
A pruned up crackled rose
for me to eat
Those eyes...
dark brown, almond-shaped
Squinty with sparrow-feet
I'm waiting in the mountains
Clouds covering my eyes
Ocean blue in the stark sunshine
blinding me and enveloping me
when the music dies
Devin Ortiz Jul 2019
The finish line is a delusion.
We run the race at our own pace.
Some walk. Some run.
Some crawl. Some quit.
Everyone dies, no one wins.

Suppose there is no other side.
Suppose you just keep going,
Until you don’t.

Is it an uphill battle?
Is it all downhill from here?

A little of both, a lot of neither.
Going, going, gone.
David Hutton Dec 2019
He stands there with a passive regard.
The silence mirrors that of a graveyard.
In front of a lit door,
enters the wintry air.
Extends his arm, welcomingly unbarred.

— The End —