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Freddy S Zalta Nov 2014
There is this pinhole of light in the distance, I can see it in the dark, through the ghosts of memories, soldiers of love and hatred, fantasy and nightmares - caring and indifference...all my hope seems lost until that pinhole of light in the distance.
In the midnight when the sky has no moon, the street lamps flicker and crickets sing me their tunes - I feel lost and alone - with no hope and no song...
Darkness like quicksand pulling away my existence - then I see the pinhole of light in the distance.
Sunrise and it still feels cold and dark - I remember her song and I remember her spark. She could set me on fire in just an instant. Now I lay alone searching for that pinhole of light in the distance.
Can you hear me whispering songs as I lay frozen here?
Tell me are you also alone or is somebody there?
The rain is pouring as the sun shines bright - I crawl through the day - I run from the night. Spend hours and days searching for that pinhole of light.
That pinhole of light that will lead me through this darkness - through this wilderness filled with unfinished songs, stories and lives...
I've woken
alone & crushed
By the evil around me
In unfamiliar lands
I've fallen
In deep dreams of despair
Where no one
Was reaching for my hand
Where I could not stand
I have lost
Sqaundered & regretted
But no more
I am found
Not by those who love me
Not by those who don't
i have found me
I had to stop seeing
The darkness first
I had to concentrate
With everything in me
To find the light
I created
I've had to run the race with demons
To win me back
From the despair
And child did it want me
It tried to keep me
With words
Promises of no pain
the despair snatchedme
With lies that I better right there
It promised me an ending
To the evils placed upon myself
Despair lied.
All its promises
Were only to entice me
To suffer more
it was loves lil light
That pinhole peeked thru
Loves light spied in mine eye
Even when it closed with tears
Thru it love shined
And when I
Raised my head
From the evil
That had my grasp
Thru loves light
Spread over me
Lifted me thru the despair
Washed away
The tar the evils
Spattered me with
Thru such very small words
I heard them
In my deafness screaming
"I need her life, to continue on,
I need you to shine"
Thru loves lil light
That shined
Pinhole in mine eye
I saw the tiny hand
That pushed thru the despair
As if it were only air
Holding me there
And when loves hand
Touched me
I felt all the people
I lost
And the ones still out there
Then loves hand
Touched my face
And reminded me of my own
Beauty that the world
Was desperate for me to share
I remember this time in my life
The blood on the floors
Empty pill bottles scattered
The tears of pain
And the screams
Oh the screams
I remember them clear
I tremble even now
From that time
I fear its grasp every second
Mostly because I dont know
Exactly how it got
a hold of me
Love has no longer
Let me be scared
Love has brought me thru
To you
To share
Loves pinhole of light
To shine in your eye
To make you aware
I'm desperately holding
out mine hand
Thru your despair
Thru your pain
Thru your loss
Thru love saving me
I did not know then
Thru love I was brought
To reach Thru to you
What saved me
I love and I care...

a darkness, dampness
refreshing air

...pinhole on horizon;
in brilliant blue.

Bright, brighter,
brighter still
and day.
Jonathan Surname Aug 2018
Thread knuckles into notches of your spine,
you were mine.
Held down as carotid fought hard,
to keep open your eye.
Staring vivid as clouds overtook.
I can taste you through your musk,
hear the quivering in your thigh.

Stomach acids crawled into your nose,
and petals bloom. Belly aflame,
throat bleat with each beat.
As vision tunneled from expanse
to pinhole spindle of our room.
Bared teeth like a wild animal,
eyes wide with excitement.

If you could breathe a word your smile soon'd fade.
Porcelain comtesse *** undress with maroon'd face.
B Sonia K Mar 2019
Surrounded by darkness
Shadows after shadow
All in stealthy movements
Looking to devour the unknowing,
Cataracts of murky waters unfolding
To cultivate an abysmal knowledge of possession
Laying in wait

Surrounded by shadows
The unknowing gullible prey
Gallivanting in the coolness of the shadows
Traveling on unpaved roads
In company of the unseemly
Glorying in a flowery mask of gloomy interactions
A facade capturing the mind of a dunce

Sounds of laughter in triumph
Emanating from the shadows
A perfectly plan of possession
With full-on persuasion
Fastidious dressing on a palatable decision
Congratulatory claps and smacks
At a job well done
Oblivious of an impending failure
Coated in a ray of light

The sun rays stands at attention
Catapulting its existence
Into the murky waters
Shooting its rays through a pinhole
With boundless powers
Yet seeking a limitless entrance
With the unknowing gullible prey at the door
Holding a key in a game of indecision
Salivating over the promises in the shadows
And the fulfillment of lascivious desires

The sun awaits your attention
Banging at the door gently
With healthy promises
The high heavens can checker
With words spoken larger than life
Saturating every nook and cranny
With light, life and love
And a thundering presence
Annihilating every shadows is its path.

Doors open
A pinhole becoming a tearing limitless ****
The sun rays stretching forth
Inciting a dance with its panther like gait
Over-powering the sniveling shadows
Punctured deceptive walls left behind
Emptying shadows filled up with light
On its face a triumphant grin.

In the shadows
I opened the door to the light of the sun
I was the unknowing gullible prey,
Jonathan Witte May 2017
Our house is
a black box.

We drape

but one, a pinhole
to capture the sun.

At night, our love
is as dark as ink.

Come morning,
we are nothing

but inverted images
fed by the same light.

You tell me to smile
and I braid your hair.

Upstairs, the children
develop like ghosts

in the corners
of their rooms.

We listen to records,
watching the black

discs spin beneath
a scrupulous needle

scrutinizing motes of dust
that settle into the grooves.

We could almost dance together,
but the couple at the window

will not move until
we come into focus.
Kam Yuks Jun 2013
Today is governed by the cyclical nature of science and the god that has been created mythically as an axis point to explain our existence.

To what end do we find separation from  a reality formed from consciousness?

The over-mind - what has also been referred to as a god-conscience, spans the digits of numerical structure and maintains an order that is beyond our limited comprehension. Division then, is not separation; it is a change that alters what is divided. Everything falls within our finite infinity - knowledge and the unknown - our minds and its thoughts.

The inhabited earth is a manifestation of thought vibrating throughout the cosmos. Star clusters are fragmented thoughts that gather and gradually grow closer until an idea emerges from the detritus left by the explosion.

Each atom is made up of multiverses that are made up of more atoms.
Tom McCubbin May 2015
Since it never snows here
let's put down
these imaginary snowballs
of defense,
my love.

Yes, already the icicles
are melting
from your long hair

and I'm thirsty enough
for you
to drink the woman-flavored
that puddles at your feet,

as soon as my own iced blood
begins to pour long
and again,
like a hundred pound sack
of salt
pouring through one pinhole
of flesh
into your savory broth.
ryn Sep 2014
Fetch me out of my case
Handle with care my prized lacquered face
Rest gently my wooden veneered base
Cradle my neck and prepare to lace

Wipe off my fret with a towel
Gift to me your first string
Fasten one end with a dowel
More to do before I sing

Other end, goes into my head
Through one pinhole, allow some slack
Remaining strings, the same you will thread
Strung side by side, along their tracks

Now tighten, wind them taut
Work away the looseness
Stash aside all other thoughts
My voice almost heard albeit tuneless

Here I lay; quiet and strung
You'd have to give me my voice
Then I'd speak but only in your tongue
Then I'd sing only if it's your choice

Prop me up, caress my earthy spine
I'd mouth your words according to pitch
United through movement, manipulate my lines
Your script; my mouth, seamlessly we'd stitch

Your fingers, they twitch and flick
Willing the most lifelike of gestures
Rising and falling of my strings you'd pick
Whimsical dance between slaves and masters

My body over which I have no control
Helplessness overcome my entire being
In my fibres, grains and knots, bore no soul
Without you I lay limp; close to nothing

You need me to project your speech
I need you to make me feel alive
Off of each other, we'd feed and leech
As both hosts and parasites, together we'd thrive

I am one of yours but not the favourite pet
I am just an extension of your unfortunate self
I am wood, dead and lifeless; a strung up marionette
Not a guitar but your fancy puppet sitting on the shelf
brandon nagley Oct 2015
The real me, the spiritual me, break's free
From mine corpse;
Stepping into reality.

A rushing sound filleth mine head
A popping sound, mine spirit's above mine body, aloft the ground; I'm dead.

I seeith the nurses, the doctor's art frantic
Mother's praying outside the door;
Father's nerves art shot, he's panicked.

I couldst heareth mother interceding to the lord
On mine own behalf, the operation was over;
Tis mine blood got cold and fast.

The scalpel was thrown into a glass
I heardst the surgeon's word's, we couldn't save him, we tried ourn best, I kneweth he didst all he can, he worked harder then the rest.

At that thought of mind, I shot through space and time,
In a tunnel I ended up in, mine sin's hadst crossed mine mind;
The wormhole I was in, was dark, at the end; a pinhole of light.

I felt none worry, distress, nor unease, I kneweth this was living, as I was floating, without walking nor running, an unseen presence carrying mine feet: I felt the calm and light warm me.

I hadst read of this, from mine Christian belief's, and the spiritual book's and video's I hadst studied; the other's account's were true of this tube, we move freely, towards the brightness with none toe's nor feet coming.

I ended up inside the light, it engulfed me, it taught me, this is where all wouldst be alright; I stood at a gate, not with Pearl's, but as other's saidst, Pearlescent by heavenly view and sight.

There were no demon's like at mine abode, no stress filled hour's, no Pain nor Human insight; I was met at the entryway by mine great grandmother whom hadst passed after me and mother left her side during her death.

Granny saidst Brandon " we hath been waiting for thee, I sawest generation's of mine kin; French, English, Scottish, Greeks, natives, swiss, Irishmen.

Mother's and father's side both, hadst known I was coming, their already aware, as the lord telleth them there, the time and dates of their loved one's succumbing.

I was overjoyed, none word's to slip mine tongue, here I was an adolescent of knowledge, though all I wouldst learn in big sum's;
I kneweth this was safety, rest, peace, I felt with mine loved one's as one.

Mine kin stepped aside, the one I've begged for help was in mine vision, he hadst three robes, ivory white- with a purple sash, there were holes still in his hand's, though his beauty burned bright on his father God's behalf.

His eye's were as flame's, though his amour' was overwhelming, I felt mine body as a tuning fork, vibrating with his brightness, as if this was his second coming, the universe was seen through his core.

He grabbed mine shoulder, we walked farther in, I felt none sense of time,no age limit just a frame of mind; where the young and unborn were, as well as oldened in age, there was aloud none sin.

The messiah showed me the street's paved with literal gold, something unseen back on planet earth, a place where a river of life floweth from God's throne, everything's sharper, senses heightened, as well as sight, sound, feel, touch, taste. Holy grace.

Color's, tints, hue's, all loud, everything was alive, LIVING, I was aware of all,whilst I heardst angel's singing call's, they sung different song's, yet on Earth a million song's together wouldst be nonsense, this place the music all perfectly was fused.

There were mountain's, Hill's, real mansion's built, as if an acid trip back on earth we wouldst conjoin with the planet in a false trip; here this was what was, amazingly struck me how all was one, no illusion's like earthly drug induced fantasies, no if's, and's, why's, or because. Though question's flickered through me faster then I couldst speak.

Here there was no need to move mine Lip's, telepathically we knoweth all, no brain needed, none memory enhancer's, no need to speaketh with human Lip's, thought's talk back and forth, though by free will we canst use ourn mouth if desired.

Christ took me into mine creator's throne room, the amazing part is God and christ art one, no comprehension of that back on the blue globe, beneathe the sun; as God sat down on a tall structured seat.

A river of life flowing out of his feet, inside were seraph's, cherub's, a divine meet, Christ was on mine right side like another story of a man I hadst read, I was living, Christ interceded for me, I was far from dead.

Mine great architect spoke living word's from his mouth, he was pure light, not as if the bulb in thy house, he shined, gleamed,he was the reason the third heaven needed no sun nor moon.

He spoke to me , " Brandon mine son, thy work is not yet done, continueth in love, though go telleth more of mine forgiveness and grace, telleth man to love another, and to respect their whole race; as tis at that moment I turned to Christ next to me interceding, the lord christ cried next to me, we must remember Christ took human form on earth, tis he kneweth the feeling of bleeding.

At that moment I was out of God's sight, Christ took mine hand and body back into the tunnel light, I flashed shot like a bullet into that tube out of sight, mine great-grandmother took mine finger's and locked them, and took me back to mine carrion, I didst not want to go back though god spoke the day and dawn.

I felt as a glove mine soul slip back into that cold corpse, mine pastor I heardst around me praying with part of the church;
Mother held mine hand next to me, dad I listened to saying this he didst not deserve; at that moment mine eye's opened.

Mother didst not knoweth I saweth her praying outside of the room when I was out of mine body, she held me, felt me, a child again I felt. I sensed mother's love again, as I told mine mother granny saidst hello, and she's waiting for thou to, and I told dad that his father couldst breathe once again, his cancer's not in heaven, that dad's father was renewed.

As still earthly being's I kneweth mum and dad didst not yet understand all the thing's of the bible art true;
As tis when I left the hospital I thought of the one's waiting for me, generation's of family, as I was waiting for them to.

As tis the memory hit me
Of Christ's Tear's;
How he crieth like men
How he Hurt's when he seeith us turneth against him
How O' how I remembered freshly the hole's in his hand's and feet. He told me to touch them, as he didst to his disciples
I remembered how I bowed
To mine Christ
Mine savior,
I remembered god his father's strong word's
"Telleth man to love one another"
As tis men art forgetting the reason why we art here;
To love.
To love one another is God's purpose.

©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
1Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. 2In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. 3And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also. 4And whither I go ye know, and the way ye know.
John 14:1-3
The alarm clock alarmed me only
I rose up and may say rather sprightly
for the seasoned old trout that I be.

when I'm out and about on my errands she sends me a message to tell me she loves me
and not to forget to get bergamot tea,


bergamot me
bergamot tea
what will they dream up next?

I send a reply
which says
Love you too and I shall not forget to get bergamot tea.

Some things tickle me
a jolly good cup
Bergamot tea

She tickles me too
that's a different story.
A Simillacrum Apr 2019
What's the deal with binaries?
Such pinhole lens.
If you feel wrong, then,
ask yourself, Who's standing
in my salt circle?

What's the deal with sorting hats?
So limited.
If you feel out of place,
ask yourself, Who's speaking
to my lowest disgrace?

You knew as well I as I did
this catalytic event would happen.
For only so long, can you grind
your face in the acceleration,
before you ****
with the aperture, then         what?

Great opening, come to closing,
Let's love.
Great opening, come to closing,
Let's love.

The alpha myth dispensary, dead,
I see you running free, safely packed.
Mr. Wolf, I want         some of that!
Zach Gomes Feb 2010
I have grown used to
or at least numb to this way of living.
The rain drips through the ivy above,
hitting against the grey planks.
No water lands on my skin;
I am sprawled across the parallel lines of planks in the wooden floor.

I call this the ‘sun grotto’
because of the sundial,
now dark with rainwater,
standing in the circular clearing in the hedges
in front of the entrance to my gazebo.

Today might be a day in October.  And,
since the first drop fell,
I’ve been waiting under the grotto
for what feels like hours—
I haven’t been into the maze at all today;
the darkness on the hedges mirrors
the shadows that line the clouds.

I see no point in moving
from the grotto today, and while I wait for the rain
to pass, I remember
my first day here, a few summers ago—

The humidity at noon under
a liquid sun,
a girl in a rose-colored dress,
our August trip to the hedge maze in the neighboring county,
the laugh she gave as she trotted away:
“let’s get lost in the maze—
come and get me!”
the last I heard of her,
and a glimpse of red cloth rounding the edge
of a wall in the maze,
the last I saw.

We had felt so much excitement
and fear
pressing further through the winding paths
decorated here and there with
fountains, gardens,
idyllic cherub statues,
and the grottoes
which I now use as sleeping places
and—like today—
as cover from the rain
which pours here so often.

The downpour recedes
allowing me at least the chance to walk
through the maze to one of
the tulip gardens.

Not today of course,
but there are days when I hear
the soft laughter of children, friends, and lovers
echo somewhere in the maze—only
a few lanes of manicured green separating me
from them.  Days like those
are difficult to bear.

One day, not too many weeks ago,
I heard those sounds and I smiled;
but it came as a shock to hear
the patter of a pair of running feet, so clearly just around
the clean-cut corner of the hedge I was using for shade.
It was the first—the only—time I had heard a sound in the maze
this close, close enough to see and touch—
through the pinhole gaps in the foliage-wall
I saw a burst of color, like clothing.
I shot around the corner, I glimpsed the flicker
of pale red cloth flagging
behind the form that had slid
into another path through the maze.

The chase had failed
well before I had taken my first wild steps,
hitting the well-tread path hard
with desperate feet.  I yelled like a drunkard.
Later, I noticed the cuts on my fingers and neck,
sliced into the skin as I flung myself through
one wall of green and skid against the next.

Today’s shower is completely over.
I walk myself through the maze, and
avoid the shallow lakes that have formed
in the dips
in the paths, beaten firm by thousands of trampling feet.
Under the sparse autumn light
I collect flowers from one of the many small squares of garden
which I have come to know so well.
With a clump of black
and white tulips in my hands,
I look for a place to ****.
Life here is difficult in the winters.
James Tyler Jul 2013
There once was who a Man who fell into a Cave,
and although it was dark, he tried to be brave.
With no light which to guide him, and fear right beside him,
he tried to get out but his hopes were in vain.
Further into darkness this man would then wonder;
no knowledge that all of his efforts would plunder.
As the passage grew tighter, he wished to retire,
but brought forth all the courage his heart could then muster.
A roaring of rapids he heard up ahead;
still fighting the fight yet succumbing to dread.
Then the tunnel grew wider, his worry seemed lighter,
as he dreamed that he'd one day return to his bed.
As he climbed from the end of this funneling hole,
and stepped further in darkness he fell to below.
What felt like forever, was the length of a feather,
now this man had to wade in a water so cold.
He swam although blind, first left and then right,
then down and back up he tried with his might.
He felt trapped in a world, with no diamonds, nor pearls
till he scoured the wall and found a pinhole of light.
This man of great strength then took one last dive,
and low-and-behold a new passage did find.
He followed it through, away from this pool,
and came up in another yet barely alive.
He was freezing, and shaking, his head it was aching
from fright and unknown during this undertaking.
Yet this brand new room, was filled with a jewel;
a jewel of which this man had no mistaking.
It was filled with light of the same glorious day,
a hole in this cavern overhead did lay.
He tried climbing the wall, only down did he fall,
but this did not stop him or keep him at bay.
He tried once again to still make it out;
climbing and jumping, and thrusting, about.
Till he reached the top, but still did not stop,
until he lay on the grass, no longer with doubt.
The warmth of the sun encircled his body.
His soul intact, yet his head was still foggy.
Exhausted, befuddled, arrested, and muddled;
he began to walk back yet fell into a copy.
Of the same devilish cave he had once been,
and it was up to him, only him, to climb back out again.
zebra Jan 2019
the worm burps crasanthyums
like hypnic ****
matter becomes metaphor

thats how the beast works with in us
we are a book of masks
and i'm up to my neck in
mirrors of the marvelous

midnight music beguiles like a blizzard of whispers
flaming candles heat like ovens
burning finger by finger
i melt flabbergasted in dark linoleum clouds

blood gluttonous
tender bites
lips like red rain and trussed thighs
she grins
a face of needles and mice

i think she wants me

this old man, soggy eyed mop
linen wrapped
before aortic aneurysms
i'm a living tarot card
the falling tower and the lovers
break downs and break throughs

my groin a slobbering clot
dreaming ******* drenched
straight jacketed on her knees
***** willow shadows
drooling exacerbations
a caffeinated candy
licked thickly
twitching blinks; rem ejaculations

her face; a tattooed ****
**** mouth smiles
brown one eyed gnome
**** the stinking cyclops
*** talk lubricates
a raspberry crumble
looking for god

even in *****

the white swans utterance
dressed in a ****** negligee
her belly a thousand ******* mouths
and i press into her thunder
shattering dawns gravity
a pinhole of empty cups
Sam Lincoln May 2014
The temporary home that I
Occupy is guarded by Cerberus. Three
Pit bulls barking at the gate and jumping

On my chest with sharp claws, but this
idiot wasn't always here.
In early years walked in the evergreen

rain; listening to raindrops click on canvas
of a hood centimeters far from the head, and
when night would come, stare out in to

pinhole nights bargaining with god
on pain and boredom. “I swear if
you would give me a sign, I will do good.”

Then the crickets would laugh, while
The trees hissed their endless secrets, so
There was nothing found that day.

In this trailer, now, the water burns
My skin; bringing roses of blood to
The surface, and leaking

Out of my gums, so each night
I drink the wine to fill my belly
With ideas of T.S. Eliot, or Ginsberg,

But looking like a ******* quack, and
Crying to old songs that used to hold
Different meanings.

My mother lives inside the sea;
A million lost dust specks sinking
To the bottom of the trenches,

Swimming about sea creatures
And fish that glow in the
Endless darkness of the depths.

I thought so many times that I’d
Follower her there through the
River, and if you give me a sign

God, I will, but I keep snagging
Myself on the sage brush outside
The front door, and my legs

Grow heavier. When I go to sleep
Tonight I’ll fall asleep in mind that
My dog is resting in the landfill

On town’s end, and I've thought
That I could grab him there; maggots
Filling up the eye holes. If you give

Me a sign, God, I will. The
Fan flies over head, and the
Computer hums loudly for one second.
Think you've been linkedIn
that you're as safe
because you're connected?
take a long look at Brinks Mat,
money for old rope
robbed by them old blokes you
passed on the way here
and you still think you're linkedin?
stick a pin in any map and that'll show you
that there's a pinhole in the map, you see it and
believe it because the pin was in your hand and
being Linkedin is a pinhole in the sand forever
caving in
forever falling through the castles that you build,
filled with this desire to set those sights of yours just a little higher
you'll give in to every whim,
make believe you are the pin, but baby,
you are not Linkedin
it's just a ******* scam.

Men with pins have a multitude of sins and lies disguised as truths and sold in fortune telling booths by Gypsies all related to the seventh son of **** knows who is the biggest pin of all.

Don't you fall into the trap of thinking you're linkedin because that's just crap and you're bigger than that, almost as big as Brinks Mat thought they were, but we don't go near there,

Sylvia Fénix Jun 2018
It wades down the end
From upon the hill, it descends
In it's raggedy, misshapen claw it desperately
clutches a tool,
or a weapon
The scythe sways idly from left
toward right
Brushing along the tips of
the field's innocent leafgreen, darkened
by the dusk of the night
Through the stealth, it's entire form is
blackened. Hidden from me

An occasional glimmer of moonlight
glances my eye, reflected from it's iron blade
It beams infrequently across it's figure
allowing me to spy it's features
Pinhole eyes, a dark but somehow bright white
gazing right through me as I into it
It's mouth was stitched up, but smirking toward me
fabric lips stained with crimson betrayal
I smile at the symbolism and accept
I feel a sharpness drawl against the flesh
below my chin
The movements holding the same creeping terror
But I stay unafraid
I close my eyes
I make my peace
I right my wrongs
I ready myself for the reaping

But then my eyes are open
And the field is bright
Daylight shone upon the roses and the daisies
with the foliage inbetween blazing green
For a moment I theorize a dream
That the encroaching monster
was simply an unconscious figment
But as my hand ghosted my neck
and felt light scaring over it's delicacy
My ideas drift towards the reason
why that thing left me standing

From across this strange place I see
perched upon a simple, smiling scarecrow
a bat
usually, this would be quite the worrying situation
especially as he was staring directly at me
But I could only smile at the black-winged one
And wave my own wing in it's direction
Turning around, I began to make my way elsewhere
In whichever direction destiny would push me next
Weightless, feeling free of my hand-crafted shackles
The cage I designed for myself broken
And you know what?
As I left that field

I think the bat might have smiled back
new chapter boyes and gorls
lets see where it takes us
Moe May 2013
All those eyes
Slowly shedding their skin
Making small circles around each other’s
The look it seemingly undresses the nights
A blood fest of fists surrounds your head
The aroma of darkness covering my placenta dreams
An empty gun
Lays adjacent to the rooms open view
While in distracted light there appears my punch-drunk sanity
As it devours (all) the shadows
An uneven floor that injects my blood stream with dust and hollow words
Stumbling over you was the answer to my loss of hope
Like running thru graveyards and speaking in silence through tiny pinhole
Mouths and forever living and not finding what may be in stored
The afterglow of solitude
The disjointed smiles that grasps for air
Under your enormous wings of blame
My tonic suggestion to incubate my after birth words
A stillness of heart that shackles
A memory and mortar apprehension I have not escaped
In the long hallways of your past
My own blank stare dissolves in the sunlight
Then it was you
Inhabiting the smaller cracks of my skin
Taking my hurt and
Being beautiful in the madness of blind faith
A sordid ball of ugly lights which glisten
And down the path where it leads
To me
You can place your gift to the dead crowd like
Unraveled wire touching your lips
A severed look of ignorance
Beings of soft shells
And broken by spinal cord modifications
The lustful grasp shrouding your heart
Makes its way taking shortcuts through graveyards
Jesse Madison Nov 2015
I've got a little black book with my poems in
I've got a bag with a toothbrush and a comb in
When I'm a good dog they sometimes throw me a bone in
I got elastic bands keeping my shoes on
Got those swollen hand blues.
Got thirteen channels of **** on the T.V. to choose from
I've got electric light
And I've got second sight
I've got amazing powers of observation
And that is how I know
When I try to get through
On the telephone to you
There'll be nobody home
I've got the obligatory Hendrix perm
And I've got the inevitable pinhole burns
All down the front of my favourite satin shirt
I've got nicotine stains on my fingers
I've got a silver spoon on a chain
I've got a grand piano to prop up my mortal remains
I've got wild staring eyes
I've got a strong urge to fly
But I've got nowhere to fly to
Ooooh Babe when I pick up the phone
There's still nobody home
I've got a pair of Gohills boots
And I've got fading roots.
Eliana Moody Mar 2019
The nature of my soul is dark and cold.
It is a husk, for its resources are drained.
Light pierces through a pinhole that used to be the sun-
Now a speck in a night sky.

The thoughts of heart are contemptuous.
Cynicism pulling out the buds of flowers,
Ripping them apart,
Before they have a chance to bloom.

None who are sane seek this.
To touch it would be unimaginable.
So surely, they that attempt
Are only seeking to succumb themselves.

When faced with such logic,  
You must be insane,
Else you wish for darkness yourself
When you approach this place.

Light does not smother darkness,
Only chasing it into corners and under beds.
However darkness can smother light
Looming over it and choking it out.

Darkness hunts and kills
Until all the light has either fled or vanished,
And when the darkness gets its way
The pinhole sun disappears.
Gadus Jul 2014
Summer lies while river rats gnaw on posts
weathered from the reverence tides.
Hunching over limestone slate,
picture ******-eyed states of the caricatures.

Loss of limbs in dissociative fugue.
St. Anthony's fire up along the coast.
Ergot Dreams: Such splendid things!

Waking up in a pool with callosum yarns
spinning words of concern.
And i've come so close
time and time
to find the pinhole tube light.

Words keep seeping out,
I hear my mother holding me here.
Frozen solid.
Stuck in a cot.
Letting the little ******* off his chain just to
hear him stream

How many lives to burn in the ecclesia pyre
while jesus sweeps the remainders
off to sea?

Maybe I have died again,
living in this ferrous skin.
Seeded fledgling after all.
JL Jun 2013
Please one more time tonight
I gotta get right before Sunday service
Pinhole pupils gouged by beauty
I am in love with the store clerks
Ringing up ciggarettes and vidalia onions on their cash registers
I just want to come over that conveyor belt
And kiss them

Dilated impulse control
Has me reaching out into the darkness
Looking for your hand
I'm not alone
In my head at least
You lie next to me

It feels a little bit like life in here
Away from the noise and the din
Have a shotgun barrel beneath my chin
Thinking of rebirth and a god with eyes

I load up .6
Just for the hell of it

I just want to see
If I'll wake up tommorow
And find you still sleeping on my ribs
I hope there is a light beyond the darkness
that suffocates a confidence I used to believe in.
A hopeful feeling of salvation that used to be...
whole .
She burns through my vacant heart,
a pinhole charm, causing harm
upon my constant forgiveness.
I ignore I wait I beg I stay;
I fight with passion and bathe in my own pain.
I drown in my forgiveness
contemplate my regrets.
I am forced to forget her words
I have forgiven once before.
But I cannot ignore
my swollen wound is infected
burning with ignorance;
what appreciation?!
there is no turning back
now there is no sign of light,
I am not sure if I can forgive-
in the name of passion, I lose the fight,
laying dead in the choke of night.
© Christopher Rossi, December 27, 2010
it's auto Jul 2015
the apple is pupil plus cornea
or maybe the magnetized pole
in pacific sea, pinhole
or some sinkhole in a shelf
of split ice. my flamboyant
sadness smells of citrus
and paint thinner. what if
i painted my future kid’s walls
that color. what if i could
talk to the three-letter word
that is one letter. a hole
in a hollow is also me
and an eye and the middle
of the riddle. and the eye is echo
not rhyme, linked like a low keen
from sea to sea, or a fruit
bruised perfect blue. beginnings
can be magnetized, too. i try
not to think of ice when i’m
with you.
Joshua Wooten Aug 2016
ouranos is pulling a thread
in and out of the pinhole stars
as earth slips it's orbit -
atlas dreams of endless oceans, waves
and his planet sleeps on driftwood,
careening quietly from its perch,
boundless in its fleeing fall
from tired shoulders and arms.
the planet sifts through stardust
and it's occupants rifle through reason,
fiddle with contrition.
what information was misread -
who's to blame for the falling sky?

time moves through amber and sap,
too slow to count with blinking digital numbers
or those in ardent analog.
why do the clocks' hands have icy fingers?
glaciers call the seconds years
and so "time" is no more -
the sun cannot thaw the hands
that push the past away
and pull the future to articulate itself.
the present is collateral to the two
in their eternal twirl through non-being.
the duet becomes a triad
and the triad: a singularity,
but it is not a violent transition -
no, it's edges are soft.
they are soft.
the mind calms at this softness.
time is such a strange, absurd idea
liz May 2018
i fall in love too quickly

i let the air slowly drain through a pinhole in my lungs
because just looking at your face,
hearing your name mentioned in casual speech
is cause enough for rose red to colour my cheeks.

i dive so deeply into loving
that at times i've lost myself
in the maelstrom & had to pick up the pieces, forget your name
so that my vision could return to clarity.

i get ****** noses & butterflies
buffeting the organs inside my body, the body
that i just want belonging to you
for long enough to feel loved
& be your lover.

i wish i could express myself
in a more beautiful way than this
with words of silk & not sorrow, knowing
you're only to leave me lying here again someday.

i fall in love too quickly
& forget that love can rend my heart into nothing so quickly.
ah, this heart of mine is faithless to me. she likes to be free with her favors and i'm notoriously stingy. what to do, what to do...
Blake Bumpus Feb 2012
It is in her movements that she speaks the greatest to me,
The unflinching energy she has as she talks to her cigarettes,
The swirls in her eyes in the dark at night when no one else is sleeping.
We first met in the belly of a whale, flying far too low on the ground,
I spotted her from a distance, and in an instant
I loved her like a man who never touched a woman,
Only looks at through the narrow pinhole of an airplane window,
It was love at first sight; she hadn’t looked at me yet though.
So I drive to me her, that dreaded hour of a wait past her father and friends,
And the rolling hills and the polarized blue of the sky in which birds made their home,
On the brick laden hills in which people called their home,
And we finally met, and it was like making love
for the first time to someone who has been there, done that,
But it was alright, it was ok,
Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt
As I fell
Into this city’s embrace.
Moe May 2013
On the other side of the phone
I don’t feel the pain
A slow start to my collapse
Stretched over miles of tears
…Always thinking of you
I’m not sure why it persists
A linger
And the longing for smaller skin
Through a pinhole camera
I only see part of who you are
The glare of distance envelops your breaths
Are there any words
Which won’t numb?
The sun leaves tiny scars from days ago
As if at a later moment you will
Disappear into rain soaked thoughts
That gives shape to form
Are you still there?
Larry Scott May 2011
Darkness is everywhere.
In how we look, in what we wear, in the expressions of our face, in what we see, in what we perceive.
There is always black, not just any black but a blackness that only you would see if you were in a box where the walls were just an inch from you on all sides, you can't feel them but you know they are there.
They aren't closing in because they've come so close that anymore and they would end anything and everything you have ever known and will know.
But with all the surrounding darkness there is always that pinhole ray of light that you can see, just right in front of you.
Even if it's the smallest beam of light you've ever seen, still the beam breaks through the mass thickness of the dark that the light still radiates a speck upon you.
All you need is to dig deep, deep inside, for that one tool, that one moment, that one instance, to grab that hole, and rip, tear into it, expand it into a vast portal in which all you need to do at that point is take one step, make one move, until you enter the array of white and bright.
And find yourself in an existence of peace, tranquility, and happiness that you never thought there was or that you could ever attain.
It is always there.
It is true, seek and you shall find.
Neobotanist May 2019
The early morning sun filters through the lace of the curtains,
to form delicate patterns on dewy skin
I watch you, taciturn, take the tessellations
and convert them into mathematics
so that we can enjoy them later as music:
light, tangible form.
Exactly twelve hours later, you point out to me
the star that we came from:
a pinhole light
in the soft velvet, overhead abyss.
'Why can't we remember anything?' I ask,
and you just smile.
I pause to give a glance fleeting
to see you look up through wet lashes
And when your dark eyes lock on mine
All I see are windows
Henra Aug 2012
Thunder shatters
Silent night,
A sudden light 
Floats down 
A pinhole dandelion 
So much power possessed
Eternity coalesced
Soft, gently
A luminous spider
Sliding down its web
choice made to
Question truth
Light lands right 
Next to You
The world has now changed  
Do what you want to do
Mike McC Dec 2011
I lay my head on my pillow to catch my breath. Thirty minutes are all I need to find my focus and fight the forces facing me down. Am I right? I am right. The nap proves to be enough.

Am I wrong? I am wrong. Thirty minutes are all my brain needs to fracture my fugue and fiddle the futures, ******* me up. The nap proves to be rough. I lay my head on your pillow to catch your breath.

And it opens up a billion doorways I closed, a billion I chose (beside myself, so this fog could escape) to forget to facilitate as your friend far from home. When they open, it's osmosis; my cell goes insides-out. I open up a single doorway I chose, a doorway I close (behind myself, so the dog won't escape) to forget not to indicate to your friends this is home.

What have I undone? Therapy, denial, or life as we know it? Or was I shouting a suggestion from my sub-surface senses? I worked so hard to fix this, but there's a pinhole in my boat. I'll sink frame by frame in a matter of captured time. What have I done?

Back to your breath. Warm. Vibrant. Familiar and funded with the fearless feats of the night. It's too clear for me to lie about. It's too present for me to hide from. I am suddenly aware of the infinite undoings I could do in a second, and I suppose it's best not to know these things.

You'd have told me to drink about it (we can think about it later), but in my split-second dream it's later and we're thinking. We're making propositions. We can't not see it. We been digging the notion for years (we keep our feelings buried deep) and now we've hit a nerve. We've lost it and we love it. We've found it, and we fear.

This is the aftermath of our daily wars. We've pulled out and grown tired, and now we're ready to sleep. Together? It's more than I can make out and less than I can deny. I can't help but hear the cracks ripple through the perfect present I stumbled upon.

The first thing I want to do is call you, but what could I possibly say to make this make sense? We're still in separate military states. We're building our arsenals, and in ten years time we'll call respective peace and come back home. But it's a fraction of a fantasy from a time I tried not to trespass upon again, right? Our now is too perfect to remember that I thought of this then, right?

But here it is again.
And it seems too future-familiar to undo.

If I mention it, does it destroy itself? If I don't, will it never become? Do I want this or not? Now is too precious to neither fight nor shape nor occupy. Maybe this is just a function of knowing you so well and not enough. Maybe this is natural. Maybe I'm just ******* crazy and this is another insanity you'll have to put up with.

The second thing I want to do is call you and apologize for everything I haven't even done yet. I want to be sorry for moving to the city and learning its secrets, sorry for our nights out and increasingly improved interactions, sorry for the night when I let this slip. Will I fall? Will we fall? Can we catch each other before we hit the ground running?

It's a tiny little kernel, fresh back from the void, but it remains.

As vague a proclamation as I can muster is all I'd like to offer. A backwards sideways whisper that I had a strange dream and it changed everything by telling me that nothing had changed. So maybe inside that candle still glows, and the face I've carved melts before it burns out. Can that be okay? I shouldn't be afraid of scaring you; you've always loved this holiday. Let's keep pretending we're monsters.

And here I am again,
Just like I always was.
Just (as if) I always was.
One little dream won't melt my mind or mend my memories,
And one little wonder won't belt my bind or bend my boundaries.
We are us now, and then is an electron that we'll never catch.
No need to bond our present to our future,
Let's drop the valence and keep our bodies warm.

[Oct. 31, 2011]
Alexis Cook Aug 2012
its like there are 50 miles between each cloud and the sun. the sun is beating down and i just stand here willing each one to move faster.

protect me please.

its so hot and i can’t bear it.

i need you here.

its like im clinging to the thought of each cloud protecting me from what ails me.

so many analogies there and i cannot even begin to name them.

oh god, pull each cloud closer like a blanket.

each space between is just like a pinhole in the sky, the light shining through is a blessing and a disguised pain.

sometimes it too hard to know the difference.

oh god, protect me please. its so hot and i can’t bear it.
Ashlee Cline Dec 2011
Take a long cold look into the earth
Know your next to enter there
A panic sweeps through your veins and tears
Leak down out of your eyes

Pain shoots through your nerves and your fibers cringe
What hope is there in this suffering
The darkness deep and weighed down
A cold wind sweeps your sweat away

Your shivers fight against a slow decay
A light so bright pierced through the veil
The size of a pinhole no more
The warm ray of hope made it all so clear

Though understanding was not the darkness
It tried to push and hide away the light
Though none could conceal its treasure
You reachd your hand out towards a future

One that will yield better
Your hand is stricken, gnashed and burned
But you did not turn away
Desperately you grasp to life

And feel warmth upon skin, decrepit and stained
It takes over your entire soul
The point of light spread and enveloped your broken body
New life has filled your lungs

Rise and stand on new found glory
Darkness shall not enter again
You raise your hands, now immaculate and fresh
You open your mouth and sing

The light fills inside your body
Joy overflows out of this spring
Into the earth you shall never be
Forever in the light with the One true King

— The End —