Pixilates poems on Hello Poetry

Clark Davis Hitchens Jan 2019

******

Her warm words wash over me like a dope fiend daze... other voices boorishly buzz a cackle cacophony. At best they are the background noise of your existence.

bit players (endless layers) as she comes my way

Your body pixilates in an ******* focus, it bends, projects all else slowly into your frame, the deja vu of ****** tunnel vision. I struggle to speak as I stand before you.

All others condemned, reduced to extras in a celluloid daydream
they are arrayed for your adornment
set pieces that surround you in the cinema that is your daily divine saunter

body sacramental (those around you incidental) as she walks away

The subtext, the reflex, the ambivalent, ambient lighting
means nothing without you

my arc, my carnal ******,
any other epilogue is dystopian

cdh

meekkeen Oct 2014

Untitled

Tonight I'll wait.
I'll wait for exhaustion's tendrils
to curl about my temples
and assist my head
onto to the bed.
I'll wait until your reddened face
blurs and then pixilates
(subtle eyes, you ask me to stay,
I turn and walk away)
Tonight I'll wait.
I'll wait because I have to.
Do you listen to the knives, too?
sharpening and sparking,
igniting the monsters away?
Do you want to play, too?
and not give a ****?
and ****?

K J McCarthy Jun 8

Temporary Identity

Pulled particles
Distorted skin pixilates
A mist of flesh
Torn on the anatomical plain
The gravitational pull of the event horizon
Removes the spirits sword from the physical sheath
Unencumbered by the heaviness of the body
All that may pass are what remains
Just waves of consciousness
The darkness of the void only welcomes the unafraid
No fear of material death
Understand there is no end
This dimension is unforgiving
Yet provides without limits
Energy is incessant in the recycling of its self
Don't let the gift of perception become your curse
What we believe as truth is a testament to the individuals utilization of conviction
Your disposition is a filter for the blackness
Those who cling desperately to their own humanity will feel nothing but the stripping of what they mistaken as existence
Beings prepared to ascend will feel bliss as the true reality of the void is revealed to them
The realm of a higher dimension can only be seen as empty to those on lower frequencies
Where we are going identity has no home
All that surrounds you are variations
Boundless examples of yourself
Let go and relinquish your delusions of control
Or be consumed by vermin
Disintegrate into the soil pieced and quartered
No level of prevention will avoid the inevitable
Your human costume belongs to the worms
Only the soul can walk the bridge to all there is to learn

— The End —