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NELSON MANDELA, NUMBER 46664 IS DEAD; EULOGICALLY ELEGIZING DIRGE FOR SON OF AFRICA, HOPE OF HUMANITY AND PERMANENT FLAME OF DEMOCRACY


Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; aopicho@yahoo.com)

Nelson Mandela, South Africa's anti-apartheid beacon, has died
One of the best-known political prisoners of his generation,
South Africa's first black president, He was 95.
His struggle against apartheid and racial segregation
Lead to the vision of South Africa as a rainbow nation
In which all folks were to be treated equally regardless of color
Speaking in 1990 on his release from Pollsmoor Prison
After 27 years behind bars, Mandela posited;
I have fought against white ******* and
I have fought against black *******
I have cherished the idea of a democratic
And a free society in which all persons live together
In harmony and with equal opportunity
It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve
But if need be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die,

Fortunately, he was never called upon
To make such a sacrifice
And the anti-apartheid campaign did produce results
A ban on mixed marriages between whites and folks of color,
This was designed to enforce total racial segregation
Was lifted in 1985
Mandela was born on July 18, 1918
His father Gadla named him "Rolihlahla,"
Meaning “troublemaker” in the Xhosa language
Perhaps  parental premonitions of his ability to foment change.
Madiba, as he is affectionately known
By many South Africans,
Was born to Gadla Henry Mphakanyiswa,
a chief, and his third wife Nosekeni *****
He grew up with two sisters
In the small rural village of Qunu
In South Africa's Eastern Cape Province.
Unlike other boys his age,
Madiba had the privilege of attending university
Where he studied law
He became a ringleader of student protest
And then moved to Johannesburg to escape an arranged marriage
It was there he became involved in politics.
In 1944 he joined the African National Congress (ANC),
Four years before the National Party,
Which institutionalized racial segregation, came to power
.
Racial segregation triggered mass protests
And civil disobedience campaigns,
In which Mandela played a central role
After the ANC was banned in 1961
Mandela founded its military wing Umkhonto we Sizwe
The Spear of the Nation
As its commander-in-chief,
He led underground guerrilla attacks
Against state institutions.
He secretly went abroad in 1962
To drum up financial support
And organize military training for ANC cadres
On his return, he was arrested
And sentenced to prison
Mandela served 17 years
On the notorious Roben Island, off Cape Town,
Mandela was elected as South Africa's first black president
On May 10, 1994
Cell number five, where he was incarcerated,
Is now a tourist attraction
From 1988 onwards, Mandela was slowly prepared
For his release from prison
Just three years earlier he had rejected a pardon
This was conditional
On the ANC renouncing violence
On 11 February 1990,
After nearly three decades in prison,
Mandela, the South African freedom beacon was released
He continued his struggle
For the abolition of racial segregation
In April 1994,
South Africa held its first free election.
On May 10,
Nelson Mandela became South Africa's first elected black president,
Mandela jointly won
The Nobel Peace Prize
With Frederik de Clerk in 1993
On taking office
Mandela focused on reconciliation
Between ethnic groups
And together with Archbishop Desmond Tutu,
He set up the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC)
To help the country
Come to terms
With the crimes committed under apartheid
After his retirement
From active politics in 1999,
Madiba dedicated himself
To social causes,
Helping children and ***-AIDS patients,
His second son
Makgatho died of ***-AIDS
In 2005 at the age of 54,
South Africans have fought
a noble struggle against the apartheid
But today they face a far greater threat
Mandela he posited in a reference to the ***-AIDS pandemic,
His successor
Thabo Mbeki
The ANC slogan of 1994; A better life for all
Was fulfilled only
For a small portion of the black elite
Growing corruption,
Crime and lack of job prospects
Continue to threaten the Rainbow Nation,
On the international stage
Mandela acted as a mediator
In the Burundi civil war
And also joined criticism
Of the Iraq policy
Of the United States and Great Britain
He won the Nobel Prize in 1993
And played a decisive role
Into bringing the first FIFA World Cup to Africa,
His beloved great-granddaughter
Zenani Mandela died tragically
On the eve of the competition
And he withdrew from the public life
With the death of Nelson Mandela
The world loses a great freedom-struggleer
And heroic statesman
His native South Africa loses
At the very least a commanding presence
Even if the grandfather of nine grandchildren
Was scarcely seen in public in recent year

Media and politicians are vying
To outdo one another with their tributes
To Nelson Mandela, who himself disliked
The personality cult
That's one of the things
That made him unique,
Nelson Mandela was no saint,
Even though that is how the media
Are now portraying him
Every headline makes him appear more superhuman
And much of the admiration is close to idolatry
Some of the folks who met him
Say they felt a special Mandela karma
In his presence.
Madiba magic was invoked
Whenever South Africa needed a miracle,

Mandela himself was embarrassed
By the personality cult
Only reluctantly did he agree to have streets
Schools and institutes named after him
To allow bronze statues and Mandela museums
To be built
A trend that will continue to grow.

He repeatedly pointed
To the collective achievements
Of the resistance movement
To figures who preceded him
In the struggle against injustice
And to fellow campaigners
Such as Mahatma Gandhi, Albert Luthuli
Or his friend and companion in arms
Oliver Tambo who today stands in Mandela's shadow,
Tambo helped create the Mandela legend
Which conquered the world
A tale in which every upright man
And woman could see him
Or herself reflected,
When Prisoner Number 46664 was released
After 27 years behind bars
He had become a brand
A worldwide idol
The target of projected hopes
And wishes that no human being
Could fulfill alone,
Who would dare scratch?
The shining surface of such a man
List his youthful misdemeanors
His illegitimate children
Who would mention his weakness for women?
For models
Pop starlets
And female journalists
With whom he flirted
In a politically incorrect way
When already a respected elder statesman?
Who would speak out critically?
Against the attacks
He planned when he headed the ANC
Armed wing Umkhonto we Sizwe
And who would criticize the way
He would often explode in anger
Or dismiss any opinions other than his own?
His record as head of government
Is also not above reproach
Those years were marked by pragmatism
And political reticence
Overdue decisions were not taken
Day to day matters were left to others
When choosing his political friends
His judgment was not always perfect
A Mandela grandchild is named
After Colonel Muammar Gaddaffi
Seen from today's perspective
Not everything fits
The generally accepted
Picture of visionary and genius,
But Mandela can be excused
These lapses
Because despite everything
He achieved more than ordinary human beings
His long period of imprisonment
Played a significant role here
It did not break him, it formed him
Robben Island
Had been a university of life for Mandela once posited
He learned discipline there
In dialogue with his guards
He learnt humility, patience and tolerance
His youthful anger dissolved
He mellowed and acquired
The wisdom of age
When he was at last released
Mandela was no longer
Burning with rage,
He was now a humanized revolutionary
Mandela wanted reconciliation
At almost any price
His own transformation
Was his greatest strength
The ability to break free
From ideological utopia
And to be able to see the greater whole
The realization
That those who think differently
Are not necessarily enemies
The ability to listen,
To spread the message of reconciliation
To the point of betraying what he believed in,
Only in this way could he
Serve as a role model
To both black and white humanity
, communists and entrepreneurs,
Catholics and Muslims.
He became a visional missionary,
An ecclesiast of brotherly love
And compassion
Wherever he was, each humanity was equal
He had respect for musicians and presidents
Monarchs and cleaning ladies
He remembered names
And would ask about relatives
He gave each humanity his full attention
With a smile, a joke, a well aimed remark,
He won over every audience
His aura enveloped each humanity,
Even his political enemies,
That did not qualify him
For the status of demi-god
But he was idolized and rightly so
He must be named in the same breath
As Mahatma Gandhi, the Dalai Lama
Or Martin Luther King
Mandela wrote a chapter of world history
Even Barack Obama posited
He would not have become
President of the United States
Without Mandela as a role model,

And so it is not so important
That Mandela is now portrayed
Larger than life
The fact that not everything
He did in politics succeeded is a minor matter
His achievement is to have lived
A life credibly characterized
By humanism, tolerance and non-violence,
When Mandela was released
From prison in 1990,
The old world order of the Cold War era
Was collapsing
Mandela stood at the crossroads and set off in the right direction
How easily he could have played with fire, sought revenge,
Or simply failed; He could have withdrawn from public life or,
Like other companions in arms, earned millions,
Two marriages failed because of the political circumstances
His sons died tragically long before him
It was only when he was 80 and met his third wife,
Graca Machel,
That he again found warmth,
Partnership and private happiness,
Setbacks did not leave him bitter
Because he regarded his own life
As being less important
Than the cause he believed in
He served the community humbly,
With a sense of responsibility
Of duty and willingness to make sacrifices
Qualities that are today only rarely encountered,

How small and pathetic his successors now seem
Their battles for power will probably now be fought
Even more unscrupulously than in the past
How embarrassing are his own relatives
Who argued over his legacy at his hospital bed
Mandela was no saint
But a man with strengths and weaknesses,
Shaped by his environment
It will be hard to find a greater person
Just a little bit more Mandela every day
Would achieve a great deal
Not only in Africa
But in the bestridden geographies
Epochs and diversities of man,

In my post dirge I will ever echo words of Mandella
He shone on the crepuscular darkness of the Swedish
Academy, where cometh the Nobel glory;
Development and peace are indivisible
Without peace and international security
Nations cannot focus
On the upliftment
Of the most underprivileged of their citizens.
The pathway to the hidden falls,
greenest trees and ivy walls,
Humid day and rain a threat,
Forest living, thick and wet.

Pebbles on this path to be,
Never ending, fast to me.
Flip flops make an obstacle,
For me to keep the pace we go.

The peach in hand is almost eaten,
When roaring waters reveal this Eden,
The water falls so quick approaching
seems to stick my memory's poaching.

We climb the uphill train of rocks,
more like boulders, need for socks,
Majesty miracle's tickle my senses,
Like watching babe ruth swing for the fences.

Something here is overpowering
behind the force field something is flowering,
Wet smooth rocks lay geometric,
something alive and something electric.

Native American premonitions,
Thoughts of the beginning of all of this swishin',
Waterfall dreams sparkle like diamonds,
Foam and water, slippery minded.

Brain chemical explosion.
Somethings been bound.
Something is gone
something I found
Burned in my imagination
is this place that I visited
on my vacation.
jake aller Mar 2019
World According to Cosmos Updates March 3, 2019

Note: I am taking a two week trip to Vietnam and will update my blog when I return with my reflections on my trip, updated publications etc.

Cosmic Dreams and Nightmares

I don't dream dreams.  I dream movies complete with action, music, food, smells everything.  In this one I had a vision of  a possible future. it was so vivid, almost as if I were watching the hearing take place.

Three stories

Dream Girl (true story)
General Zod (flash fiction
Sam Adams Vs. the Social Cleansing Board
Six Poems
Morphing Images from Hellish Nightmare
Endless Movie
Worlds within Worlds Lost in Hell
Rafting to Hell
Satanic Torture
Micro Stories

Don’t Go Jogging in the Middle of the Night
Don’t touch this button!
Don’t open the door
Don’t go to the theater tonight stay home with me
Don’t go to Dallas I have a bad feeling about the trip


Dream Girl
Cheating Death 100 Times
Guardian Angel
Medical Mystery
SLA Hit List

Dream Girl – A true Story – reprinted from Dreams and the Unexplainable
You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.

Author Unknown

The dreams started when I was a senior at Berkeley High School in 1974. About a month before I graduated, I fell asleep in a physics class after lunch and had the first dream:

A beautiful Asian woman was standing next to me, talking in a strange language. She was stunning—the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She was in her early twenties, with long black hair, and piercing black eyes. She had the look of royalty. She looked at me and then disappeared, beamed out of my dream like in Star Trek. I fell out of my chair screaming, “Who are you?” She did not answer.

About a month went by, and then I started having the dream repeatedly. Always the same pattern.

Early morning, she would stand next to me talking. I would ask who she was, and she would disappear. She was the most beautiful, alluring woman I had ever seen.

I was struck speechless every time I had the dream.

I had the dream every month during the eight years during which I went to college and served in the Peace Corps. In fact, when I joined the Peace Corps, I had to decide whether to go Korea or Thailand. The night before I had to submit my decision, I had the dream again and it made me sure that she was in Korea waiting for me.

After the Peace Corps, I still hadn’t met my dream woman. I got a job working for the U.S. Army as an instructor and stayed in Korea. I kept having the dream, until I had the very last one:
She was standing next to me, speaking to me in Korean, but I finally understood her. She said, “Don’t worry, we will be together soon.”

Why was that the last time I had the dream? Because the very next night, the girl in my dream got off the bus in front of me. She went on to the base with an acquaintance of mine, a fellow teacher, and they went to see a movie. I saw her and found the courage to speak with her.

We exchanged phone numbers and agreed to meet that weekend.

The next night, she was waiting for me as I entered the Army base to teach a class. She told me she was a college senior and she had something to tell me. I signed her on to the base and left her at the library to study while I taught, and then we went out for coffee after class. She told me she was madly in love with me, and that I was the man for her. I told her not to worry as I felt the same.

That weekend, we met Saturday and Sunday and hung out all day. On Sunday night, I proposed to her. It was only three days after we had met, but for me it felt like we had met eight years ago. I had been waiting all my life for her to walk out of my dreams and into my life, and here she was.

Her mother did not want her to marry a foreigner. One day, about a month after we met, she invited me to meet her parents. I brought a bottle of Jack Daniels for her father and drank the entire bottle with him. He approved of me, but her mother still had reservations. After a Buddhist priest told her my future wife and I were a perfect astrological combination, she agreed, and we planned our wedding.

The wedding was a media sensation in South Korea. My wife explained it to me years later. At the time, I was overwhelmed just by the fact that we were getting married and I didn’t fully understand how unusual this was. My wife was of the old royal clan, distant relatives to the former kings of Korea. In the clan’s history, only two people had ever married foreigners: my wife, and Rhee Syngman, who was the first President of South Korea. My father, who was a former Undersecretary of Labor, came out for the wedding, which fueled even more media interest. Our marriage defied the stereotypical Korean-foreign marriage where the women married some hapless GI just to escape poverty and immigrate to the U.S. We were the first foreign/Korean couple to get married at a Korean Army base. Over 1,000 people came to the wedding, and my father was interviewed on the morning news programs.

This all happened thirty-seven years ago, (45 years since the first dream) and I am still married to the girl in my dreams. Now in my dreams she watches over me when we are apart.

General Zod Conquers the World
SETI and the search for extraterrestrial life goes on overdrive when scientists report what appears to be radio and television broadcasts from a planet eight light years from earth, the same planet as the Vulcans came from in the Star Trek universe.  The programs show a world where dinosaur-like creatures are running the world and there appears to be a civil war.  Over the next six months, the world is transfixed watching the alien broadcasts which are translated in English via a supercomputer program.  In the broadcast, a nuclear war has occurred. The surviving party regains absolute control and announces the formation of the Galactic Empire.  General Zod is the First Emperor.  They have discovered Earth as well. The aliens launch a crash project to develop interstellar travel so they can come to earth and conquer the earth.

The revelations that there is an external threat to the planet causes the United Nations to get together with the help of the United States and Russia another space powers, they put together Space defense International organization and also invigorates efforts to make the UN a real Planetary government including finally conquering climate change.

But it was too late. General Zod’s son arrives to take over the earth. He makes a broadcast saying that they were liberating Earth in the name of the Galactic Empire and that resistance would be futile.

They land at the White House and when President Trump comes out to greet them,

General Zod cuts off his head, and then cuts off the heads of all the staffers as they come out White House. After an hour of unimaginable horrors, including mass rapes, blowing up the Pentagon and the CIA,  General Zod announces that he had taken over the world.

Life will continue as before as long as people behave and follow the rules they would be fine Resistance to the new empire will be met with instant death.  Life in the Empire is not a democracy. They would not tolerate Freedom of speech, and Freedom of Press, and Freedom of Assembly And the freedom to oppose the State. The state is everything.  As long as humans remember that they would be just fine. They took over the United States because it was the biggest country in the world. And that his forces will take over the rest of the world but in the next couple weeks. If people on earth accept the new order, their safety would be guaranteed. Companies would be taken over by Galactic Empire companies, and everybody would have to learn Galactic standard. Within one year older languages will be banned.

Sam Adams Vs. the Social Cleansing Board

the summons
Sam Adams was worried. He could not sleep. He got up at 4 am and wrote in his journal and tried to cope with the dread that was overwhelming him. He had received the summons yesterday that he was to report to the social cleansing board for a review on whether he would allow to continue to be on the automatic permit list or would be referred for final status determination. Sam was a retired Federal worker trying to live on dwindling savings.

Sam had Alzheimer’s and was rapidly depleting his life’s savings. Two years before he had been released from prison, one of millions of ex political prisoners. His crime? Authoring anti-government poems just before the beginning of the Christian States of America, right after the second civil war. Unfortunately for him and his millions of ex-prisoners, his side lost the war. He wanted to flee to the United Provinces and settle down in California but lacked money to move. And getting a job at his age, with Alzheimer’s and his political rating was proving difficult at best.

All of which added up to a 90 percent probability his last days were approaching.

Under the new rules imposed by the Christian republican party in the newly established Christian states, all citizens over the age of 18 were on the permitted list if they met all of the following criteria. He tried to think why he was being referred to the board. Perhaps it was because of the recent crackdown on social deviancy. Millions of homosexuals, transgenered people, atheists, drug users, alcoholics, and non-religious people had been rounded up and eliminated according to the rumors. Perhaps someone had fingered him as a possible deviant. He fit the stereotype, no children, known drug user, known alcohol user, suspect politically, atheist and now Alzheimer’s patient. And he was not racially pure having some black blood, some Asian blood and some Jewish blood. And he had married across the racial divide which was now illegal.

The story was that if you flipped and named names you would sometimes be spared for now, and if your info was correct, you could be rewarded. Of course, those whom you flipped were not too fortunate. That was probably the story or someone could have heard that he was an ex political prisoner, or simply that he had Alzheimer’s’.

He had no children. And he was a secret atheist and had been involved with the dissent movement and had spent five years as a political prisoner at the start of the Christian Revolution. He was determined to make a stand and denounce the whole rotten system before the board although that would probably seal his fate.

As an Alzheimer’s patient he could no longer work. His wife had died the year before while he was in prison after she had been deported to her native Korea. She left him some assets but he had little idea how to manage his finances and he was behind in his rent and had received an eviction notice which had probably triggered the visit by the social cleansing staff who recommend a final status determination. But it was just as likely he was on the list because someone flipped on him.

He also did not make it last time when they came for him at midnight. Always at midnight the story goes.

The soldiers came took him away from his wife and locked him up for two years. They deported his wife whom he heard had died shortly afterwards. He spend two years at hard labor in the dessert near Las Vegas and was released into Las Vegas.

Las Vegas was a different town now that the casinos had left town. All that was left were back office operations, and underground ***** and *** operations and underground casinos. It was a hot bed of political dissent and there was an underground railroad to California, which was not part of the Christian states. Sam had been preparing to leave which was a crime and perhaps that is why he was on the list.

The hearing would be at 10 am. He was meeting his lawyer at the hearing board but his lawyer was not too optimistic.
the Permit Criteria
The basic criteria for being on the permit list were:

For Males

Age 18 to age 70
White race
Married to a white woman with children
Must be either working, in school full time, serving in military duty, or working in prison if convicted of a crime.

Homelessness was not allowed. If unemployed and or homeless, would be referred to social cleansing department unless one had a relative who was willing to take care of your needs.

Since there were no pensions or social security anymore and no government provided health care, one must have sufficient assets through one’s work, or savings or through one’s relatives to provide for one ‘s needs. If not you would be sent to the social cleansing board for final status determination.

For Females

Same basic rules applied but if one were married, and had children one would be on the permitted list, if children are older, if spouse’s income is sufficient one would be on the list.
If single or divorced, and homeless one would also be subject to social cleansing unless one’s relatives would willing to sponsor you. Since there were no pensions or social security anymore and no government provided health care, one must have sufficient assets through one’s work, or savings or through one’s relatives to provide for one ‘s needs. If not you would be sent to the social cleansing board for final status determination.

For Aged People

Additional requirements for the age you were expected to take care of your basic needs through employment and savings and the help of relatives. If you were evicted for non-payment of rent, or judged to not have sufficient assets left to sustain your basic needs including medical care, you would be referred for final status determination.

For all people additional requirements applied.

****** deviancy, drug use, alcohol use, gambling, *** outside of marriage, homosexuality would result in immediate referral to the social cleansing board as all were banned conduct that could result in final termination.   Being a member of a prohibited religious class could also be grounds for referral as would a pattern of not attending Christian services. Finally, if one had been arrested for political crimes one would be marked forever.
<h2>Sam's Rating</h2>
One had a government social rating. Sam knew that his rating was a D meaning that the government would be watching him all the time, and it would be difficult to get a job. Only the A’s and B’s were guaranteed to be on the permit list.

To be a A you had be to a true believer, had to be white, had to attend church on a regular basis, and had to be employed naturally.

To be a B same thing but you could be a B if you were a minority, or had engaged in alcohol or drug use under the old rules.

C meant that there was something wrong with your background, you were an atheist, you were a minority etc.

D mean that you were a serious threat to the regime.

E meant that you would be terminated.

F met you were terminated as it met Failure to survive, and family members of F were also labeled F as they were usually terminated at the same time.

Being associated with banned political movements, including reading banned materials could also lead one to being referred to the social cleansing board as all were grounds for either termination or criminal prosecution if under the age of 70.

The board has three choices - granted temporary status extension, referral for termination, or referral to criminal prosecution.

The termination would be carried out quickly. There would be an optional funeral at your Church, then the execution through the method of your choice - firing squad, beheading, electric chair, or gas. The default was gas where you were put in a room with up to ten other people and put to sleep.

Afterwards your body would be cremated in an electricity generating plant with the ashes turned into fertilizer products. There were no burials allowed unless one was rich enough and connected enough to request a burial exception. Most people did not qualify.
the Hearing
The hearing started. The presiding Judge, Judge Miller was a stern face white man in his 70’s and a true believer. He was sent to Las Vegas to clean it up as Las Vegas was the wild west, a hot bed of dissent, illegal drug use, illegal prostitution and illegal casinos. It was also near several political prisons so many ex cons lived there.

The Judge was the chairman of the Nevada state committee that did not exist and was a senior official in the Federal committee that did not exist that brought together government, business and church leaders to coordinate government policies and that secretly ran the Christian States of America.

Probably a score of A thought Sam.

The judge announced that he had reviewed Sam’s file and was shocked that Sam had escaped final termination. He said that the previous board had erred in simply sending him to prison. He should have been eradicated as a social evil, as a cancer that needs to be removed from the pure body politics. Sam and his ilk sickened him. Sam was a free thinker, an atheist, a mix race mongrel, married to a non-white and was therefore guilty of crimes against the white race which was a crime. The Judge was determined to see justice done.

He asked Sam a series of questions. Sam’s answers sealed his fate.

Sam, what is your occupation?

None for now.

You realize that under the law you must be working, in service, in school or in prison?

I can’t find a job due to my age, my Alzheimer’s; and my political record.

That’s irrelevant. You are just a lousy atheist *******. You deserve no sympathy. And have none from me.

Are you white?

No, I am mixed race, part native, part Asian, part black.

I see you were married to a non-white and had no children. Good for you we would not want to see more mongrel children. Such children should be eliminated at birth in my opinion and will be starting next month when we begin enforcing the racial purity laws.

What was your crime? Let’s see reading prohibited writings, keeping a journal, publishing an anti-government blog, authoring anti-government poems and stories. You served two years at hard labor?

Yes

Do you still write?

Yes, everyday but I no longer publish on line.

Good. No one would want to read that trash anyway.

Do you go to church?

No

Do you believe in God?

No, I do not believe in an imaginary man in the sky.

One more anti-religious statement from you will result in an immediate ruling of termination.

Do you drink?

If I can find it yes

Do you gamble

Yes, when I can

Do you support the Christian Republican Party and the Christian States of America?

No, I do not.

Okay, I have enough for a ruling. Sam Adams, you are hereby sentence to termination. Tomorrow morning at 7 am you will be turned into electricity and fertilizer. Take him away.

Next please.

At midnight there was a knock at the door. A black man appeared and said he was a friend and he was being smuggled to California. Sam rejoiced and went with his new friend and reached SF in the morning, escaping death for the 23rd time in his life.

the End

Poetic Nightmares

Morphing Images from a Hellish Nightmare
Note: From a real nightmare End Note

I am in a room
Drinking at a party
And smoking ****

Watching people all around me

Change into hideous creatures
Monsters from the deepest depths of hell

Everyone in the room
Has been transformed except me

The Chief of them all
Wears a Trumpian mask

Complete with orange hair

Half human half pig

His deputy
Wears the face of Putin
But his body
Half human, half horse: if

The other creatures wear masks
Many of them wear
Green Pepe the alt-right
Symbolic frog masks

And have T-shirts
Bearing alt right slogans
And **** symbols

And as they prance about
They chant alt. Right slogans
And neo-**** chants

Jews will not Replace us

And the rest of these creatures
Are hideous ugly beasts
With only a vestige of humanity left

And these monsters are engaged
In all sorts of foul evil deeds
****** violence death

All around
And non-stop
violent drug-fueled ******

As these creatures
Half human half monsters
Half male, half female creatures

Snort coke, *******, speed
Smoke **** and drink ***** shots
Scotch, bourbon and beer

The Trumpian Pig leads the charge
Starts engaging in ****** with Putin
Who chases after people

Cutting off their heads with his sword
They turn on to their fellow creatures
****** and killing each other
and eating their fellow creatures

All night long

Then they attack me
Screaming

Jews will not replace us
And I wake up
Screaming

As the sun comes up
Just another nightmare


The Endless Movie

Watching the TV coverage
Of the great government shut down
Of 2018-2019

I am reminded of a movie
As I fall asleep
Listening to the TV

Blather on and on
About what it all means

Mr. Natural pops up
And screams

"It don’t mean s….

“Dude, the endless movie
Is about to begin”!

A middle-aged white man
Down on his proverbial luck
Just been fired

Replaced by a foreign worker
Or a robot

Or just fired
Because he was no longer
Deemed useful
To the masters of the universe

If he was lucky
He'd  be given a watch
And an IOU worthless pension

And the man wanders into a restaurant
Pulls out a gun

Eats his breakfast
After the official breakfast hour

Puts on a Pepe the green frog mask
Drops acid, Snorts speed
Drinks a shot of *****
And coffee smokes a joint

Snorts ******* for good measure
and smokes a cigarette

And walks outside
steals a bus at gun point
Filled with passengers

He tells them
They are hostages

And he puts on his vest
With the dead man switch
Next to the bomb

He announces
Via tweet

He is going to take the bus
To the proverbial *** of gold

Hidden deep in a cave
And when he got there

He would release the hostages
And disappear into the mine
And never be found again

And as the bus careens around the mountain
At 100 miles an hour
The dude sprouts out

Conspiracy after conspiracy theory
About Obama the Muslim communist

secret gay working with George Soros
the Jewish money people
in league with the shapeshifting lizards

and Mueller is one of them
they are all after him
because he knows the deal

And the passengers are transfixed
Half hoping, he would make it
Half hoping, he would be blown away

And as the bus careens out of control
With the wheels falling off

And the cliff looming ahead
You realize we are all doomed


Worlds Within Worlds Lost in Inner Space
A man woke up one day
Lost in inner space
Went so far down
The proverbial rabbit hole

That he did not know
Where he was
Nor what time it was
Nor when it was

As he stared out
At a bewildering world
A world lost in inner space
Deep down in his dreams

Filled with nightmarishly real
Monsters, demons and ghostly apparitions
He saw them and began running
Running running running

With the hell hounds behind him
Leading him to the edge
of the pits of hell itself

abandon all hope
ye who enter here
the sign read
above the entrance to the pit

and there was a devil standing there
armed with a clipboard
and a computer spreadsheet
Satan was the ultimate bureaucrat

Name barked the devil
Date of Birth ?
Date of Death?
Don’t know? That won’t do at all
Hmm

Car accident due to drunk driving
And you killed a child
Bad on you

But here in hell
The punishment fits the crime
And the devil laughed
Joined in by the hell hounds
And other nightmare creatures

A bell ran out
In the purple crystalline sky
And slowly the worlds receded
And he found himself alive

In his room
And vowed
That today
Was the day

He would quit drinking
Quit taking drugs
And quit chasing strange woman
And having wild libertine ***

He picked up the phone
It was Satan’s aid
Be careful what you vow
We are listening

If you fulfil your vows
You might find yourself
Escaping life in Hell
It is up to you to choose

And the man got dressed
Went to work
Thinking deep thoughts

And drove off a cliff
And back down the endless
Worlds within worlds

Satanic Torture

I find myself
In a dark room
Strapped to a bed

The light turns on
The large TV comes on

A smiling image
Of Satan fills the TV
He is dressed
In a conservative business suit

Looks like he came
Out of a corporate
board meeting

surrounded by demonic aides
who constantly shove papers
at him

He looks up from his lap top
And smiles
A deadly so insincere smile

His voice booms out

Welcome to Hell
My satanic slaves

I am Satan
Your new master

Each of you
Has been sentenced
To an eternity of torture

And the punishment
Must fit the crime

So, for you
Mr. Jake Cosmos Aller
Failed aspiring poet
And novelist

Your torture
Is to be strapped
To that bed

Unable to move
As you are filled
With the need
To **** and ****

But you cannot move
And your skin
Is crawling with bugs

And itchy
as Hell so to speak
and you are so sleepy

but you cannot sleep

the TV will play
endless repeats

Of some of the worst TV
and movie shows
ever produced

Starting with my favorite
A Series of Unfortunate Events

Featuring your favor annoying little girl
Carmetta! Singing for you forever
As you are the ultimate cake sniffer

Welcome to Hell


Rafting Towards Hell
I woke up
To find myself
Rafting down a river

I looked up
At the cliffs
Towering above
the roaring torrent

and see the dark demons
of my terrible nightmares
chasing the boat
firing flaming arrows

and I see werewolves
goblins, ghosts and monsters
running along the river bed
screaming obscenities

as they chase me
to my doom

and I see the waterfall ahead
and see my pending doom

as I rush over the edge
of reason



Micro Stories
53 word stories regarding unheeded warnings
Don’t Go Jogging in the Middle of the Night
It all started with a jog in the middle of the night. Despite my wife’s warning don’t go jogging in the middle of the night.  Broke me heal in a million pieces, 14 operations ensured, mutant MDR Staff almost killed me, almost lost the leg. . should have listened to her warning.

Don’t touch this button!
Don’t touch this button the former President said.  I said, what this button? And that led to the launching of nuclear weapons, going to defon three, and world war 3 with millions of people dead end of civilization moment. Should not have touched the red button.
Don’t open the door
When you find yourself running for your life chased by demons from hell and backed into a corner in a burning house filled with flames and are about to die in a million horrible ways you remembered that they warned you not to open door number three in this crazy reality TV show.
Don’t go to the theater tonight stay home with me
Mary Todd Lincoln had a vicious headache and was not in the mood to go out.  The President though ignored her wishes and told her that he had to go to the theater that night to show the world everything was okay now the war was ending.  Should have listened to her.
Don’t go to Dallas I have a bad feeling about the trip
Jackie was known for her moods and her premonitions. Something the President found both amusing an annoying. She told him that she a vision of death waiting for him in Dallas that day.  The President dismissed her foolishness as he put it and went to Dallas to meet his fate.
true love story.
In 1974 I had the first dream. While sleeping in a boring class, I saw a beautiful Asian woman standing at me speaking a foreign language. I fell out of chair yelling who are you?   I began having the same dream month after month for eight years.  One day I realized she was in Korea so I went there in the Peace Corps to meet her. In 1982 I had the last dream.  She said don’t worry we meet soon. That night she walked off a bus, out of the dream and into my life.  We’ve been married 37 years.
Cheating Death 22 Times
Also, a true story.
I have cheated death 22 times in my life.  I was born a preemie, almost died at birth, and had all the childhood illness at once.  In 1979 I came down with Typhoid  fever in Korea in the Peace Corps.  In 1991 almost got hit by a train. In 1996-1997 had 14 operations due to a mutant drug resistant staph infection, almost died several times.  In 1997 I had an acute stomach ailment that almost killed me, due to excessive antibiotic usage, if I had waited 30 minutes more would have been dead.  And had dengue in 2010.
Guardian Angel Saves My Life
Another true story
In 1990, I was teaching ESL in Korea.  My wife and I drove to the East Coast of Korea for a weekend away. She was in the US Army then.  As we drove towards Sorak mountain, I was filled with the need to get off the road right then. I had a premonition of doom, so did my wife. We got off to drive around another park returned a few minutes later and saw a 25 car pileup. We would have been dead if we had not listened to that inner voice telling us get off now.

Medical Mystery
Another true story
Back in 1996, when I was in the hospital fighting a mutant staph infection after a disastrous jogging accident that led to 14 operations, the internal medicine doctor said that there was something else going on. He finally discovered that I had a rare parasite, a tape worm of sorts that remained inert, its only becomes active if you take steroids then it blows up like a basketball killing you instantly. Six months later I had to take steroids due to frozen shoulder syndrome, and if I had not gotten rid of it, I would have died a medical mystery.

SLA Hit List
True story

Back in 1974 my father was a local politician in Berkeley, California who was on the SLA’***** list as “an enemy of the people, a fascist insect that needed to be killed”.  His crime?  As President of the community college district, he began requiring IDS for students and staff to combat campus crime at the local community colleges.  We had 24/7 police coverage for a while. One morning I saluted my father, “good morning fascist insect”.  My father, being of Germanic stock did not like the joke as jokes are alien to the German DNA.


the End
based on dreams and nightmares
PrttyBrd Apr 2015
A worst-case-scenario mentality
Breeds emotional nightmares of what-ifs
Methodically feeling the pain in each possibility
Preparing for Hell, knowing it is impractical, improbable, and unkind
Each reaction gauged
Smiles erupt in each better choice
A familiar road traveled often
Lead only by a history of pain
It ebbs and flows, bobs and weaves at will
This reality is organized, easy to understand

Random thought of an unlikely, unfathomable future
Vivid like a film
Unwavering, persistent
There is no control
ling its outcome
Forced to watch the images forged in a broken mind
Tears burn flesh and a naked heart bleeds
Stop rolling, just...stop
No amount of pleading slows the images
The pain is overwhelming
Far beyond self-inflicted, torturous, methodical thoughts
Uncontrollable, inconsolable
True and real
So very real

There is but one way to stop that future
The one shown in visions of just deserts
The future that smolders through present joy
Preemptive pain is just not an option

I've seen the future my heart has built
The shards of a shattered soul
Offer no comfort


My worst-case-scenario was but a benign freckle on the elbow of a body invaded by metastatic melanoma
4315
spoken word, haibun
Verdae Geissler Jun 2013
I met a girl when she picked me up while  I was hitch hiking back from the health food store.

Her name is, well, I’ll call her “Mirror”. She was seventeen, with three different colors in her hair,and she was driving this great big mafioso looking thing down an old country road.

AND she picked me, a hitch hiker, up. like it was it was no big thing to her.

My first response after the normal howdy do’s, was;” Okay, first off, we are on this desolate back road, in the middle of BFE ,and corn fields forever. How do you know that I am not going to pull out a gun or a knife and slit your throat, or blow you away for your ride, or WORSE?”

She snickered and said,”Cause’ I can tell .”You aren’t that kind of person!”

My responsewas ,”How can you even  pretend to know THAT?”

She comes back with; “I can just tell”!

“Anyway, aren’t you glad I picked you up?’

“Of course!” I said, “but you need to be more careful!”

She dropped me at my house, and that was that.

I was left with hoards of memories sweeping my mind. Memories of myself at her age, along with her responses to my concern, and her total disposition, I knew I was staring into a mirror of my past!

I would, for sure, be seeing her again!

It was approx. two weeks later that I saw her, in a little mustang, as I was walking my dog on that same old road.

She pulled of as she turned the stereo down, I think it was blasting some new girl band, “Hey girlfriend” she says with this sweet little sideways glance, as if she’d known me for a lifetime, “whatcha up to?”

Having done the small talk thing, we decided ot hang out.
So she came over to the house, we talked.
As I got to know her situation a bit better, I knew.
... I was looking into the mirror of my past once more.
I had been placed into her life for a very special mission.

I also knew in my heart that, according to what she was telling me, she was headed for the same path of disaster and destruction, I had, not so long ago, put my own self  through.
It had all started at her exact age. but I did not, at this point know what to do about helping her.
...But it would come! ...yes, it would!

I found out, a little more than a year later, i could not have done anything to stop it from happening, when I met her. ...In her beginning...
It was during the “aftermath” or the “beginning of the end”, where I would be called back into her life to “play my part” so to speak.
So...
It was about a month ago, I just happened to be browsing through a thrift store, in Spruce Pine, with my neighbor. As I stood there, looking at an old quilt I wanted, but could not afford, I heard that  soft, sweet, little voice call me by my name.

”Romy?’ “Is that yooouuuu?!”
“*** I can’t believe it!”,
.....and so on and so forth.

My sweet friend from the road by my house, was there, was handing out Krispy Kreme doughnuts.

Mind you, I knew what this meant...
...She’d gotten herself into some kind of trouble.
And now, she was doing community service for it.

Sure enough she had.

I gave her my  telephone number, and that was that.

It was about three days ago when I got a phone call.
It was her.
She asked if she could come by to see me that afternoon, after school.
She needed to talk.
She actually did come on by.

Here we are some years later. I am scared.
Not for myself , physically, but something told me my time was up.
The gig was up.
The angels had finally found a way.
For me.
For her.

Now.
I need to back up to two years ago, so that you can get a real sense
of what is really going on here…..

After our first meeting, after she came back by my trailer,  in the cow pasture, the first time,
She hung with me the whole summer, and then into fall.
I got to know her parents very well.
I n their eyes I'd become a big sister/baby sitter for her.
She thought of it as just hanging out.
...a place away from her Dad, but close to her home.
She had never been with a boy, she explained,
but she'd made an attempt at a relationship with a girl at school, which turned out disastrous.
It even landed here in trouble at school, with the cops, and with the DSS, here in Yancey County.
(a place no one would ever want to land!)

Her mom was going through chemo and radiation, and so was I.
I was uncanny.
I had at least SOMETZHING, one thing, in common with almost every member of her family.
I became part of her family!

I knew from my own life and my experiences,  
she was dabbling in some kind of drug activity.
I just did not know what at first.

Made myself a promise.
I would find out what was really going on with t his girl.

Once I got her to open up to me.
I discovered she was stealing her dad’s 40mg Oxycontin and his 1mg klonapin out of his locked box.
This only AFTER he'd been giving them to her when she turned fourteen.
She was not only snorting them, but she was selling them as well!

I also did some digging, and found, she was getting in with some pretty savory characters.
Of course it wan't long, before she met this guy...
He was handsome, manipulative, and cunning.
But most of all, he had a raging monkey, the size of Detroit, on his back!

Only I could see him for the ****** ******* he really was.
I tried many tricks to expose him.
Her partents were blinded by his enamering.
His story was easy:
..he had been in the military, only to come home to a trailer trash wife, on drugs, of course, who had neglected their four year old child.
He'd come home just in time to play the knight in all his armour....!
I KNEW better!

But when I tried to warn her parents
they would hear nothing of it!
They refused to see in him
the evil that i could....

So when she started seeing him, I went to her parents with my premonitions.
They told me I was over  reacting.
And that i had become attached to their daughter, that I should just stay away for a while.
Her mom’s exact words were:
”I mean really, Romy...
" He is a MARINE for goodness sakes... !"
"... and the only reason he is home right now, is to save that yungin' from his drug addicted mother!”

UGHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I had to let go....

Only years later, it would come out,
To her parents and everyone.
...He was a **** and dilaudid ******.
His mother was one, as well.
They used the little boy for food and money,
as well as their own selfish adgenda of feeding
that monkey from Detroit,
and the disease he brought with him.
They conned everyone from welfare, to  churches, to the department of Social Services.

I remember a conversation a had with her mom, while trying to get her to realize what he really was.
It went like this:
mom: “How could you even say such things about him!”
I never said another word.
Only
In my mind I was screaming;
"Because I know this *******!
He is addicted to drugs!  
He told me so, in the beginning!
He bragged to me about how he’d been doing dilaudid with his MOTHER for years.
And, all  of us junkies know, the only way to do dilaudid, is to shoot it up in your veins!

"*******!”"
I said to myself.

"PLUS, I even know his  other name."
"THE NAME is Daniel!"

"I know him well!"
"I ruined most of my young life trying to win his love."
"Only I did not know then what  I was up against...."
"This addiction was more powerful than another woman, or anything else, for that matter!"

"There IS no match
  for it!"

...I was screaming this all to myself.
...I knew then.
I was talking about my own life experience.
The years I spen, hurting myself, all the while attempting to impress my first, and truest love of my entire life.
He almost proved to be the ruin of me!
...The man on whom I waisted more than half of my life!
He, who became the beginning of my end!
He was the beginning of a lifetime of  ****** addiction, tears, disappointments, lies, and horror!

As I saw it, he and this ******* were one in the same.

More importantly, I also knew, in my heart of hearts, he would be the beginning of  HER end.
He would prove to be the beginning of her  horror.
I also knew, if she were to end up staying with this nobody *******, for any length of time, she would, inevitebly begin sticking needles in her arms.
My bet would be she'd start within one year.

Sadly,  I was correct.
she was,
and had been,
sticking needles in her arm.

The way I found out went down like this:
(and thus my reason for writing this)

She phoned me, upset, and crying.
Don't ask me how, but I knew she was dope sick.
...Perhaps it was the quiver in her voice.
The desperation.
A feeling I knew all too well.

I told her to come over.
She did.
I'll never forget.
She was working at Mc Donald's, to pay her way through cosmetolegy school.
So she still had that Mc Donald's uniform on. (The one, I knew, she loathed with every part of her being!)
And bless her heart...
...She brought me a pie.

I told her she looked like ****.
Then I asked her to explain why she'd gone so long without having any contact with me.
(although I knew the answers to each of my questions, I asked them anyway.)

I gave her motherly/sisterly hugs, while attemting to make her feel loved.
(something she had not experienced often, at least, not without a price!)

I needed her to know, that no matter what she had to offer , for the time I hadn't heard from her, I would love her, and I would help her, and I would hold her, until she needed me to let go.

So.
It was after hugs, love, some understanding eye contact, I made the promise of understanding. She had to know, that  no matter what she might reveal, I would ALWAYS be in her corner. I would always be hers. I would be whatever she needed me to be.
..As long as I was helping her towards her self understanding,  towards love, and  towards happiness.

It was a few seconds after our long embrace and our moment of connection and understanding, when she took me into the bathroom.
She uttered these words, nervously, and with shame;
”Romy, Do you really want to know how bad I've gotten, how far I have now fallen?”
...Or perhaps her words were, in actuallity, more like "Romy, look at how bad this has gotten."
I am not sure which of the two is more correct, but I got the message loud and clear, and my heart broke.
Litererally, it broke into a million pieces.
My heart broke for her, but it also broke for the girl I once was, before my own demons came to visit.

I knew then, from the depths of my being,
how the scene would play out...
I knew the ending,
before it ever began.

In a moment I will share with you, the dialog that went on between us on that cold, cloudy, winter afternoon in Nowheresville, NC.
This is one conversation I shall, forever, remember until I take my final breath.
It will remain with me through lifetimes to come.
...It has become a part of me.

ME: ”So. have you learned how to do yourself?”
“Or is that why you are here?”
"If it  is the later, you've come to the wrong place."

She started to cry.

"I know how to hit myslef", she said.
H uge tears runnig down her face.
"You warned me, Romy." "And I didn't listen."
"How DID you know, anyway?"

I could not hold back the tears.  
They poured straight from the depths of my being.
Again, he I stood, once again, in front this georgous girl, who was destroying herself!
Again, all I could see was myself in the mirror!

I have yet to felt such a sadness within me, as the one I felt at that moment.

As she rolled up her sleeve, there it was...
a site too familiar..
Uncanny, it was.
How could this girl be the SAME?
Seriously!
...The same arm.
...The same hole.
...The same sore.
...The same color.
..The same sad and bewidered expresion.
It said. No, it screamed;
"Help me please! I'm so ******* gone!"
"Help me please!"
" You're all I've got!"

I wanted to turn and run a fast and far as I could get.
Heer she stood in front of me
Here she stood.
The exact ******* same as me.
I couldn't move.
I couldn't think.
I wanted to puke.
She
was
MEEEE!

The silence was broken by her voice, and by her expression.
She obviously saw my transition from a strong woman who cared so much,
into a womean who had turned white as a ghost.
Then she asked;
” How did you know, Romy?”
“How ever COULD you have known?”

I did not.
I could not.
Begin to answer her then.

But I thought to myself;
"How could I not?"

I left that tiny bathroom not knowing WHAT to do, or what to say.
I, for once,was at a loss.
For the first time in my life,
the words  would just not come!

I couldn't speak my usual words of incourgment.

Until she came to me, and gave me a hug.

...she has just left my house.
My heart is heavy.
She'd  come to me today, for reasons,
she herself,
could never have understood.

I went into my bedroom, whee she sat.
I asked her what she'd been up to that made her decide to call me.
She said she did not know.
She'd been out driving after work,
and so she'd just ended up calling.
Now she was at my place.

I shared with her the importance of truthfulness.
With oneself even more than with others.

Then I shared with her my story, and my reasons for caring so very much for  her well being.

I told her about the mirror I saw between us from the beginning.
..of my battle with herion addiction.
But I told her  also of the stubborn dream I'd carried with me for eighteen years because of a guy, just like hers.
I answered all of her questions.
I completed her sentences.
She completed some of mine.
I felt her heart breaking.
And I helped her to let go.

She was so shocked at what I shared with her, about myself,
and about my own life,
that it  literally brought her back to her self. I had somehow, reached her inner being.
She was able to return to her own reality, away from the deceit.
And away from the web of lies which had been woven around her.

I feel good!
I feel like she will be alright.

May hope is, through me, she was able to see how easily we can fall into someone else's need and addiction. How we make it our own by allowing someone elses demons drag us down, down into oblivion, and how their misery can, so easily, consume us. Then take over our very life!
IF we let it!

....I held her for a long time.
We cried together.
I cried for her.

I also cried for me.

I cried for the girl that I once was.

...Before Daniel.
                              ...Before Manhattan.
                                                      ­                                                
                                                                ­       ...Before the misery.

She cried her own tears for herself,
her kind heart,
and for what would never be.
She cried, grateful tears, knowing now she will no tso easily loss her way,
she knows the angels now. She can feel them guide her every day.
She is not alone.

I will forever be there for her.
wherever she may be.
...we are connected now.
...Little Miss Kim and me!

Her spirit is strong.
She will succeed.
She recieved what she needed most.
... A friend
... A kindred spirit.
...and  a bit of wisdom from little old
me.
Oh, and now I know why my Blackie walked me down the old country road.....
My sister, Kimberly, needed me!
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Terry O'Leary Aug 2013
PROLOGUE

Umpteen billion years
Big Bang, supernova, gas
Brief eclipse of time

Gases swirling, fall
Sun and planets, water, goo
Brief eclipse of time

Another billion
life, amoeba, fishes swim
Brief eclipse of time

Movement, change and flux
slither, crawl, climb, walk and talk
Brief eclipse of time

Ra, Sol, Helios,
Mithra and the Mighty Eye
Brief eclipse of time

Life begins and ends
birth, joy, laugh, cry, death, and dust
Brief eclipse of time

Waves cleave seas, shores, skies
forever folding, pulsing
Brief eclipse of time


            
CHRONICLE

The Mighty Eye begins to slip and slowly sink,
(unfocused, stained, diffuse)
while frizzled waves imbibe her searing tears,
with salted languid lips.

The Mighty Eye, now weary, thin,
is gazing through the frozen cracks,
as sundry straying clouds,
bloated,
sidle feebly by
and wax their billowed tracks
upon the heated sky,
and cool the rush of rolling waves
beneath the blotted sky.

The waves
(impaled on time and space inside me),
gently tumbling aging pebbles
and lifeless shells across the shifting sands,
seem unaware
as they once again arise
to greet the Mighty Eye,
to close the Mighty Eye,
to ***** the Mighty Eye.

But then again,
perhaps the waves are well aware indeed,
yet simply unconcerned
and feel no need to care.

For, as the frazzled froth is rushing forward
madly towards the sandy shores beyond,
before retreating slowly,
then careening brashly forth ahead again,
eternally,
it matters little if the Mighty Eye will cast
her blazing glance from high above,
or else retire for the night,
kissed sweetly by the liquid lips
of distant faithless waves
in a brief eclipse of time.

The trees, they hang in time and space around me –
trees, which in time before had swayed,
so gently tugged by ocean breezes,
trees, which in time before were lightly lit
with emerald tinted leaves,
trees, which in time before had reached to space above
with twisted tangled fingers,
grasping fingers,
fingers drenched with golden tears
shed by the Mighty Eye.

The trees, they hang in space and time,
benumbed and frozen motionless around me
chilled with rooted premonitions of the void,
their branches clutching darkness  
and their leaves foreboding doom.

The muted winds begin to whisper tales
of many frightened things,
which, with mournful apprehension
have hunkered down behind the haze
and ceased their joyful play.

And all the while dank shadows gaily dance
a dismal dance,
for their time is soon to come.

The fitful shore lies suddenly still.

Unfeeling stones and hollow shells,
are paused a little,
stalled,
and dropped haphazardly,
midst their mindless random journey,
now abandoned by the sea,

for fickle waves have slipped away
to greet a falling prey.

And as the Mighty Eye droops lower,
laminated molten lips
are pursed and pucker higher,
******* in the sky.

Within a trice the Mighty Eye
submits and squints, distended red,
perhaps tormented by fantastic thoughts
of imminent demise,
or else of being lashed beneath a lid
of distant faithless waves.

And as her dying flash dissolves,
two lurid lips arise,
three ***** lips -
a thousand parted limpid lips
which asudden,
though with little haste,
consume the Mighty Eye.

                  
EPILOGUE**

The trees are now but lurking shades
amongst the murky shadows.

Relentless fog slips slowly by -
her floating tongues drip silence
as they slink like snakes in stealth nearby.

The lacerated faithless lips have once again returned
to kiss the vacant vapid shores
in a brief eclipse of time.
Jessie Latham Feb 2013
the room with the
big oak table
is filled with windows
& she always keeps them
open to borrow a
breeze
from the warm countryside

the house always smells like
a summer rain
& he always kisses her
neck
when she sits on the
kitchen counter

the music is always
just low enough
to quietly swell the love she keeps
deep within her
bones

oh
he makes her feel
like home

where the city can't
cast enough
color


& the stars aren't so
alone
Byron May 2013
There once was a man who said you could beat the world with your words. That you could conquer an army with the knowledge of a greater narrative and move the legions of many with the action of one verb. I want to believe who ever can recreate the frameworks our race. The foundational narrative of our moral ethic, the guidelines mankind has been leaning on for millenniums. I want to know a alternative story, with made up words and no respect for a-priori intuition or tradition but a legend of unabiding experience that is unlike any tangent or discourse known. I want to reinvent another codex.  

I saw god as the architect I consoled in the grand tree house, with the grand green house sitting in a curious English archway. The telescope room was laid with bricks and from it I could see all that made me content. I felt the time changing before my eyes. Whether I was in compromise or not was entirely up to the seasons of Zeus.

I am now never afraid of myself, I almost died and I remember it all. I have known fear and still revere the quenching of it's animosity. I am only a swerving flake of inner rind. I am all that is exhausted of my honest dive for humanity. I am me finally, a shell no more! Man is the helplessness of lost spatiality in his own timid surrealism. I have never been satisfied with the explanations no matter how exhaustive! Revisited by the techni-color outlook of the turning millennium craze. The alleviation of all hopes when they turned out a dead end inthemselves, a lost avenue of my childhood.

I guess we all wanted that age-old rampant abuse of youth in ways that were neither aesthetically pleasing or unifying towards our own, best. I was tired of the beautiful sprites I grew up with. I was tired of locking myself in closets at nights and rubbing my face into the it's knotted carpet floor. I'm tired of the songs that advocated joyful frolicking into the drapped daylight. The oddities grow old and the used up phrase are clique now. I lost my mind seeing the years of my language frightened by the sound of my own breath. Grow into yourself. I am done with you anyways. I am done seeing them engulf a titanic drift of colorful intentions; flirting around the grand bonfire of the uncreated experience. I am lost with them. I question more than just our own value and I resign my thoughts on themselves for their own wealth and safety. When you want it said so bad but the forces of those unforeseen, creative hives oscillate and never stop it's steps into the night-legend. Then the world ends and was never in out of tension. I electrify my time and run into the a.m. frantic like a monkey, waving around and jesting my arms. I'm tired of the old music, in with the artifacts who architect the reverberation of my heart.

Your myth has lived into the century and I can see your ideas into the lives of all maniacs and the honest young, the deranged youth. We are amidst a heavy tension, i cry again. I want my mother's words three times a day and more on my weak hours. I am content in the alien maze of my music and want only the childhood campers to love me like a king. They gathered around at night, around the campfire. They initiated the song and dance with gaiety rhythm; that was the nights stars collided into bedtime. The same night I was torn by the dreams of an old horrid man who gave me no name and no rest from tear and horror. What evil is an anonymous the Will that censors awareness and knowledge. If it kills

So what then of the tribal pack psyche we all inherit. In days where beauty was up to chance. Our proximity to a woman was determined by breeding patterns and the realm of funds available for travel and food. What now in these days of the internet? When the whole world is at the tops of our finger tips and even more far away is the understanding we gain of our inability to have the cream of the world. We are in a great exaggeration of ourselves, of our will, and of our determined out-come. We have little but the pessimisme of our predecessors to guide our philosophies application. The translation of dream-world is perfectly out of reach for us and always for our posterity. From here on out we are a new age. A new age whose gates are christened by the ungenuine thugs and malevolent brand names of our civilization. We are faking it till the end. I am scared and drilled by horror and filled more with black premonitions. I wish I had eyes to see myself with a more generous charity but I don't and neither do you. What you see is an age of outward anticipation for the soring ribbons of undone realities.

The artist is the one who has seen the broad fleeting wisp of an out-of-world innuendo. It is the ethereal encounter with a cognitive defect that mimic as a supernatural sensation, this is seen by the artist as true humanity and rightfully so as it brings him to tears.

I always forget that we are always on the cusp. That we are simply a few bruised years away from reveling in the stained, sealed golden sunlight of the age that has came. What we do now is entirely crucial to our ability to be in unending sorrow and remorse. We see our people in a clearer way, for what they where struggling with, for what their reverie finally came to look like, ugly or gleefully self created, their vision of the world will always be our continual source of inspiration.
PrttyBrd Aug 2015
My mouth was filled
With the taste of bad dreams
8915
10w
Anonymouse Jane Dec 2014
i swing from the chords of your voice,
in your last message.
the one where you said you'd be by later

your skin smooth and subtle
the stark lights flickering
i held onto your hand
until mine was as cold as ice

my phone left behind
filled with echoes of birthday wishes
a incessant dinging
ding
ding
don't go

i light a candle when i get home
there's no cake but i still blow out the flame
i make my only wish
to have you back
DaSH the Hopeful Sep 2016
Beauty comes a dime a dozen**
Sliding through the cracks
Sticky change if you ask me
But I don't check the facts
I'm a penny-pinching prophet
All premonitions made out to cash
My fingers dig between the floorboards
But there are *some things I can't grasp
One4u2nv Dec 2012
How do you feel about this and that?

A cockroach stealing your children's dreams of a bright and peaceful future?

Watching a mongoloid getting backhanded by a ******* with a heart of gold?

The unknowable can't be evacuated by an atomic bomb.

Knowledge cannot be enthralled by microbiology.

Peace CAN & WILL shatter into fragments by the use of clinical drugs.

Fun finds the cure for cancer in a twisted upbringing that you and your siblings will never be blessed to experience.

Trust can trigger an avalanche of facts, AND satanism should generally avoid including sexuality.

Mary Magdalene turns boring things into ****** tension like peace inspires fundamentally skewered acts of protests.

Our world leaders briefly researching painful mutilations in an ancient garden in Greece, while suggestively grabbing handfuls of lost gifts in a church made from human bones.

How are you feeling about this mess of words I've sewn together?  

Televised revolutions are deeply advertising etched foreskins of death like Disney World sells us dates with Mickey Mouse and his muse Minnie as Donald poses as Adolf ******.   

Watch your friends fade and die as they disobediently blow away blue swamps at your feet, never even bothering you with a decent goodbye.  

There's a supply and demand on our radios briefly warning us of fearful flesh in the background of a dark ash filled sky, gently driving away from mysteries spied through a peephole.

I would have cried briefly, if worshiping premonitions in the shadows was good human behavior...But it's not..

Your sisters are daintily self-destructing emergency shelters dancing w/ both hands in your pockets while vomiting their lunches into fine porcelain. Aren't we lucky?

I am happily reusing substances
and creating electrifying populations with clay and words. A seamstress of sorts I suppose.  But I'm no artist.

Pentecostalism might be able to rid the world of a nightmare and your wildest dream might have been known to lead to a disorder that hasn't yet been but already has five matter of fact cures.

The Bible courses through the veins of vengeance like physics can be used to detect our long-term relationship with Santa Christ. Satan and I think this is exciting!

Complex religious designs can be combined with gracelessness in the name of American eye-candy.  We can be uncomfortable if it's entangled with destiny. Of this I am certain.
Emily B Jul 2016
they fly in
and sit on my shoulder
even when
i don't want them to

old Bob's ex-wife
had his sofa covered
in some horribly ugly
historic print

(i thought it was
kinda pretty)

i saw a haversack
made out of that
self-same fabric
in my possession

today, Bob handed me
a leather bag
he had sewed with
that fabric as the lining

i hope i smiled

because the other vision
was of his family
clearing his possessions
out of his cabin
after he passed

i'm afraid it isn't
long now
Fell heal over heads
          in love with a poet,
  he's mostly a rhyme schemer
       likes Poe and his dark Raven,
  in actuality,  I'd fancy him more if
    he were like Pablo Neruda, but I digress
I'm much accurately fashioned after Emily Dickinson
        chasing heaven's June bugs toing and froing,
we'd meet at a perfectly superfluous coffee shop
    he'll be murmuring elegiac pentameter
I'm simply looking to devour precious words,
    we'd argue about abstract destinations,  
            straight forward persuasions and
               premonitions of wayward ink allusions,
some days I want to claw mine own eyes out
               amid all that nonsensical alliteration
  others, I want to rip out embellishments
                   of his black heart's magnification,
he mutters tumult under his breath,
     states he's abundantly sickly tired of all my
         fanatical froufroutant  flourished fantasies,
albeit, we're mild mannered artistes
         of overstatement and simplification
               thus, we continue laying it on thickly
I, with my hyperbolic cuppa tea and honey,
       he's all brass tacks, no nonsense black coffee
ultimately, we reservedly seek gratification,
      envisioning who functionally makes it first
to a finished line of manifestations's publication,
           in eternity's poetic intentions and beyond
For my good friend 'J', yes of course its been spiffed up & embellished!
Devin Ortiz Sep 2016
The raven is my eye in the sky
Swift and stealthy,
She cuts through the clouds
Her song rings in premonitions
Forewarning and foreshadowing
Any luck or omen that might meet me

The wolf and her pack are my ears
Listening for the buzzing in the forest
Striding through the leaves with discipline
She knows by the look in her eyes
By the fierce smile and sharp teeth
That she has my respect, and we are the same.
Martin Prado Jul 2014
I

the river
                          soars
like sun white
horses galloping,
shimmering, glistening

the gallop a harmony
of cacophony
to my listening eyes

what an idyllic
                           sky pink-azure
bringing excellence to rest.
tomorrow the white river
horses will fly like jazz
to my listening eyes

II

half stuttered premonitions ease
at sight of indigo accented flowers.
                  in goat land, clouds turn
                  to white wisps of doves.
the mountain
                            is
                                   with us
a chipmunk at the summit
makes waves through the landscape
dancing like a tambourine

wishes and hopes curl
around my face enveloping
me in Washington air

I see you looking at the chipmunk
and smile like

          really nice,
          your
                    smile
                                is
          really really

          nice
Blue jeans, ***** shirt
standing in the rain you know you made my eyes burn,
Your hair glistening, fo-sure
you're the death to fresh air smoking your ca-cancer-
What we had was so ****** up
compared to whatever's normal stuff
but I didn't notice much because you were the first, I didn't know
that love is mean and love hurts,
I still remember that day we had in December, oh baby!

I loved you since the first time,
What a fool I was, (thinking you could heal all my fears).
Do you even recall what we set out to find?
I know now that we weren't even near.
Loved you more cause you were my first score
say you'll remember, oh baby, say you'll remember
oh baby, you-
That day was made from the dark stuff but it lived in the light.

Bad dreams of a gangsta (premonitions for after),
When you finally left I choose that path outta there.
It was like, "Oh please, drama",
Still can't believe the things been done 'cause of her.
It ended on Sunday, such a comedown Monday
I got cut up in school, thunderous thoughts over-thinking you.
So I went off chasin' fame (all I found was the ego and shame),
Started dealing, broke this soul in, got enslaved to the game.

I loved you since the first time,
What a fool I was, (thinking you could heal all my fears).
Do you even recall what we set out to find?
I know now that we weren't even near.
Loved you more cause you were my first score
say you'll remember, oh baby, say you'll remember
oh baby, you-
That day was a better place, when we were together, off our face.

Now I'm out every night
but I can't feel alright,
Been like this since you left me (on my own, in the lonesome west).
So now I'll go take flight,
Let soar my ****** kite.
Never come down, gliding high (on a lie).
When you took him home
a piece of me died,
I lost my will.
You took it and lied
(for months, I was unthinking, unfeeling),
You went with him out of my life,
I wish I couldn't remember (but I can't erase time).

I loved you since the first time,
What a fool I was, (thinking you could heal all my fears).
Do you even recall what we set out to find?
I know now that we weren't even near.
Loved you more cause you were my first score
say you'll remember, oh baby, say you'll remember
oh baby, you-
That day, it's lost to me. I'm lost when I think of it.
Baby it was real
and we were the best.
Stephanie Lynn Oct 2014
To walk among the living
cursed to be the dead
I understand the fear inside
because I bathe in dread
and to sleep a peaceful night
with fate dancing on my head
leaves a taste of rotting premonitions
upon my tongue instead

*Beware of your surroundings
wash the evil off your hands
We are no longer safe from Satan
he has kissed the promised land
And when war ceased to erase
the common fault of man
There will be an entire wave of famine
birthed from the smallest grain of sand
Inspired by the war and Ebola crisis. Our world wide issues have become irreversible and now both will run their course.

(C) Maxwell 2014
Marla Dantes Apr 2019
This path on which I've come so far,
It has neglected my condition and left me tired.
The fire within is fleeting like a dim star
As these legs move like thinned wires.
Premonitions of the precognitive sort
Project into my dearest slumbers
To lend a communicative report
Concerning the sweetest of encounters.
But that future seems so far away
And my will to move forward
May waver towards the end of days.

Yet happenstance will show me my way,
She hardly leads the lost astray.
lloyd britton Feb 2015
The awkward jutting out of spiny branches,
And a monotonous tone bellowing through the chasm,
The reverberation of sound an incomprehensible spasm,
And the shaking of rock with threats of avalanches.
Something’s happening in my mind’s eye.
Something weird, darksome and ambiguous.
As the shattered memory flew through us,
Ransacked the minds metaphors with a dusty cry.
Whale song and bird song mixing together.
Entwined like two lovers twanging in their movement.
A blast of brilliant light in the cave of thoughts, an improvement,
And singing in a strange tongue relishing forever.
The misshapen figure of my spirit guide,
Blurry in the distance and emerging from the light.
Images of my soul a riding black knight.
The two come together walking in stride.
Leading through corridors and passages bleak,
To a landscape thwarting the concepts placed within it.
And striding through its swerving scene ideas bound and tight knit.
And set fire to itself with plumes that reek.
Choose a word, I choose access,
Hear that word ring out growing in its beauty and elegance.
Then ****** violently from one place to another, the relevance?
Not understanding the situational nexus.
Tiffany Case Apr 2011
Oizys, son
From behind the leaves, I saw you, trembling
In your presence, your power strengthening
In the empty, midnight parking lot
While the street lights hummed
And moths danced around your illuminated frame
You turned slowly, onyx eyes of shame
And dirtied bare feet, male hair long and white
The street lights flickered when you blinked and cried bitterly
And I saw, for my first time, the eyes of Misery

Achyls, daughter
You were in an empty field
No premonitions did you wield
An ancient silo in the distance
Leaning over a chasm black lamb
Dark skinned, dressed in black robes
With tribal painted face
Digging earthen fingers into its black lace
When you looked up, I saw your cloudy eyes
Churning of a storm, cataract yet wise
Your lamb had absent vapored eyeballs
The Mist of Death made my skin crawl

Hypnos, son
Secluded in a cave by the sea
A silent, empty place to be
While gray waves crash into jetties
The clouds gather in the distance
Poppies at the mouth changing time in an instance
I go in your palace and rub my cold skin
For pulsing blue glows from deeper within
You, a lanky youth, with thick brown hair and heavy eyes
Sit there with a paper mask
Illuminated by the penetrating glow
In the center, surrounded by whale bones
Humming a song I remember fondly
You trapped me in your Dreams, singing lullabies softly

Eris, daughter
Violates a bedroom with utmost hate
There are paintings of kings and statues of satyrs
Pillows of silk and animals on the walls
Usurping the gold clawed palace
Silent but kicking and throwing with malice
With black skin covered in a chalky white substance
I peek through the crack in the mansion’s door
Lips formed in a silent shout, you notice my presence
Naked and bruised and plagued with no voice
Suddenly stops and lays against a ****** wall
Through your electric black hair
And fiery red stare
I witness a Child of Spite
Woman of Strife

Nyx, mother
I am a crawling shadow of trees
And wicked heart of night
I am the wax on the cold leaves
And the glow of the moon’s light
Timothy Brown Jan 2013
A series of gestures & looks
hidden between words in our composition books
As we study the opposite situation
We have the right page lifted in anticipation

The story is intriguing to be honest
We hang on to every letter as if written words couldn't lie.
When in fact,they make the lie permanent.
To be truthful, we speak in winks and flutters of the eye.

It is a language we never wanted to learn,
speaking in premonitions.
It frightens us like an unlucky number
A common and uncanny superstition

So we watch happiness from the corner
with an odd sociological perspective.
The trends we notice make us loners.
Lovers without an object of affection.
© January 16th, 2013 by Timothy R Brown. All rights reserved.
Nigel Morgan Oct 2012
IV

Before your work
you sit, so still
as in a painting
by Hammershøi
(Isa’s hair,
so like your own).

Beyond the desk,
the bay window
stretches your gaze
to the fox-frequented garden,
the hedged less-leaved beech,
the un-blossomed pear.

Now, in the mind’s eye,
your son, your daughter
bed-bound in a doorway:
(a tender moment witnessed)
then the silent grace,
the shared meal.

V
 
Night falls
and done for the day
the violins unravel.
Only on a brittle guitar,
a Prelude:
Subtle Mysteries of Sleep.
 
As you close your eyes
tomorrow beckons (in a list),
and thinking backwards:
the nettle soup tale;
a birthday cake adventure;
breakfast on the patio with sunshine.
 
Premonitions? Perhaps.
But in yesterday’s paper
a shock of poetry,
plants the seeds of blank verse -
no pointers given
(save these folded words).
 
 
VI
 
 
That evening
?I asked the questions,
and later you said:
‘If I’d not wanted to tell you
I wouldn’t have’.
I’d already guessed. I knew.
 
out in the garden
a sunny day
skuddering clouds
white as the blossom
left and loose
leaving lightness
 
That evening,
as the minutes
ticked away,
I seemed at last
to see you entire,
even your quiet hands.
The Origami Letters is a sequence of 27 poems and an afterword.
The ceiling fan makes a comforting noise
As it whirs gently, with the premonition
That winter is near

She sits up hesitantly, somewhat afraid
That there might be something there
She just woke up from one of those nightmares
She could barely control her breathing
Fear and anxiety painted in her eyes

She's almost used to it, or so she thinks,
Till it happens again
She begins to shake just a bit
Almost subtly
She doesn't want- need- to think
Any more

She switches on another one of those gizmos
Whiles her night away
So she doesn't have to sleep
She doesn't need to go back
To those **** nightmares

A chill runs down her spine
But she turns up the music a little louder
She doesn't dare to cry
Scared of being heard,
Scared of acknowledging
That which lies silent, looming ahead
In the darkness

She doesn't want to because
Once she does, it would be tougher
To tell herself that they
Hardly matter

That they are not premonitions
Of the future
Comments?
Josiah W Menzies Mar 2013
Flesh on flesh. Eyes watch eyes
Following fingers round curvatures. Caressing skin.
Skin on skin. Flesh in flesh.
A gin-sung-dream –
Silent utterances from the dark-side of a candlestick.

An unsung overture to Nature’s greatest gift
And Nature’s perfect curse.

Lips pursed open, speechless. Breathless.
Wide-white eyes scream STOP. blink. GO ON.
Glances flash between the flickers of candlelight ,
Meeting unknown looks in the black. Bodies
Embrace, writing words that have their own
Music. Heard only by its two composers.

Everywhere the other wishes to be –
Vivacity. Revelling in promiscuity.
Obscurity. Strangers share a warmth
As old as the ages.
A wafer-thin knife-edge of meaning.
Gin-song dreaming. An opaque tonic
For loneliness.
Hands in hands, heart fleeting.
The perfect curse of Man
In the stroking of skin.

Later, a vague sound of water, a towel
A drawer closing – a door latch clicks.

The world floods back.
Through the curtains,
Through the drainpipes
Your fleeting heart sheepishly returns,
Aching like a hangover.
Too much gin.
The momentary tonic wears off.

Heart in hand,
Hand to head.
Candlelit premonitions return.
Heated flesh. Arching backs.
Fingers through hair…

Salty fingers through oily hair and
Blood-red-wine lipstick smudges and
A singeing waxy smell makes you reel
To the window for air.
And there you are again,
In the middle of a city that knows you
More than your Alcoholic Lover,
A Melancholic Mother to all your needs,
Except the one you tried to soothe
A few hours back.
The one you pine for.
The one you lack.

Oh, this Humdrum City
Rushing you, with your heart in your hand, off your feet.
And your heart in the street
And the gin in your glass
Whenever you meet
Whoever it is that might
Make you complete…

A vague sound of water, a towel,
A candle extinguished, a door hinge creeks.

Wafer-thin. Flesh on flesh.

A belt buckle rings, a zip
A drawer closing, a door latch clicks.

The door latch clicks.
The door latch clicks.
Aaron McDaniel Nov 2013
Ice blue eyes
Sharp as the serrated edges of a chainsaw blade
Carving my frozen heart
To conform to your fringerprints

Feather soft lips
Rose colored by nature
Speak words of silk
To dress my **** perception
Of what happiness could be

Golden straw hair
The farmer of flowing cornstalks
They bloom the scent of revival
A harvest moon illuminates their beauty

Wine bubbles burst
Pops replaced with giggling
A drunken serenade
To pull whiskey breathed sailors
Near their soon sunken imagination
Premonitions showing their fantasy

A toast to the woman
Who shall teach bronze haired children
With her brilliance
Coupled with cunning of their father
May she be happy in my dreams
Where she has yet to emerge
From it's dreary depths
There was a woman in my dreams last night and I have never seen her before, but my lord she was flawless.
Curt A Rivard Sr Jan 2015
Heed these words, write them upon the tablet of your mind for I have returned.

When you finally come to the point in your life and comprehend that the dreams with which you have been bestowed are to be used as a blueprint, you then and only then will win remarkable success in what ever calling that you adopt. You will begin to visualize things with a much greater understanding and you will experience sights stranger than you have ever seen before. You will know that these new visions are all true, for you will see that you have been given the ability to pick out and notice clusters of confirmations and on an imaginary scale. The fear of premonitions and ignoring notable occurrences by dismaying them all off as if they are just figments of your imagination is to be avoided. It is not out of random chance, the thought that things are bound to line up from time to time and for no apparent reason or that evolution had a major impact on us to evolve into begins to recognize pattern recognition, but rather, it is to be construed as if you have been blessed with the gift of foresight and you will notice that you are able to think and speak things into existence. Never again will you live with the fear of the unknown for you will know all. The truth of all things will manifest themselves and be disclosed to you in a vivid clear contrast. There will be many people who will find it extremely difficult to interpret what is being explained to them and in the process they will then start to display that they are trapped within there own gridlocked mind and be confused with just your mere presence. You will find that people who do not understand you will then try to get you to conform to what they see, ignore them. Life is but an enigma, one that is full of complex-ed riddles, when you accept to follow your dreams and with an open objective you will then have the opportunity to harness all its power and in return all the pieces of the puzzle will be spread out for you for your taking. Once you find the first piece, you then will be given the license required to take part of this phenomenon so you can complete life's grander picture found outside the ivory tower. You will know with all certainty that you are not dreaming and that what you are witnessing is not a mirage, that is until, the silver cord be loosed, after that, when death finds its way to sting and the grave can then claim its victory, welcome and accept a Re"quies'cat In Pa'ce.

As always, Welcome to the show!
Deana Luna Oct 2013
quick to jump
quick to feel
it's all split-second
decisions on ****** positions
at 3 am.
practicing submission in the
mirror of an alleyway.
broken.
shattered premonitions.

c r a v e  m e

do you. do any of you.
feel me. in your bloodstreams.?
knocking the wind out of your precious and
dying lungs.
pumping your hearts.
crave me? do you?
deliciously uninterested.
shards in my throat.
interesting personality attraction.
follow me now.
to do lists. have done lists.
to get to when i'm sad and bored lists.
check check check
Aaron LaLux Oct 2016
If you truly are a time traveler,
as I expect you are,
then can we please meet again,
after this life is over,

because we both know this one goes too fast,
and we both know good things never last,
and we both know that there are no guarantees,
that there is ever going to be a next time,

so tell me,
one thing that actually matters,
and don’t tell me Salsa,
because I already know you’re a dancer,

but it’s not your body I want to see move,
it’s your soul that I want to tango with,
and I know the unknown can be scary,
but there’s something alluring about the danger zone,

so let’s take it there,
let’s spin that globe and take that flight,
because even though we might be time travelers,
we still can not stop time,

and you can not control the future,
nor can you completely foresee it,
even if you get premonitions,
and the occasional hint,

here’s a hint,
I love you,
and I don’t mean that,
in the way you’re used to,

I’m in love with your soul,
and I could care less about your body,
I am not one of those men,
that thinks you’re just a feast for the eyes,

I see you,
I mean I really see you,
I see through all your pretensions,
and right to the real you,

“What is the real me?”,
I know that’s what you want to ask,
but how can I explain,
your infiniteness in a sentence,

see I see that disguise you wear,
that ‘**** Mystery Girl’ disguise,
but you leave hints who’s the true you,
so when you finally expose your soul I won’t be surprised,

you can’t fool me,
and I refuse to be distracted by those legs of yours,
and I accept all of you I just have one question,
if you are a time traveler can we meet again after this is all over?

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Just a reminder...
robin Jan 2015
god i think i could die happy now if i could just stop thinking, but i am rage,
sleepless nights, fake premonitions,
i know its not real stop telling me its okay cause even if the ceiling stays steady i still cant sleep,
i know it will fall. i know i will dissolve.ill be fine after i write,
writing my name on a monument of trash,  
scratching out epitaphs on gravestones, dead but still twitching,
still electric, still choking on my own hands,
three am with gravesoil pressing on my lips and sleeping pills dont work anymore.
six am with the water so hot i can almost feel it,
red skin/black lungs, anode/cathode, electrical circuit and a broken bulb.  
current like signal fires drowned in desert light; please notice me im here please help me i know its bright but
my nightmares havent been banished by daylight in years.
december 11, 2014, thursday 10:41 pm: the people in my sketchbook are realer than i am.
there is gum in my mouth and it tastes like blood.
across the room i see an omen and welcome it home.i imagine my hair fades to murky gray.
i imagine myself at thirteen, i imagine learning to spit out poison
before it trickles down my throat,
i imagine i learned im not broken before i accepted it as something
i could never change.  
i think im sweet.i think im insufferable.i think i think about myself far more than anyone else ever will,
a placebo, a replacement for god knows what.medicine for an unknown illness,
downing whole pharmacies to **** a malaise, i cracked when i realized
i was not a work of art.
nothing beautiful, nothing to be admired. unnoticed at best,
smoke signals in a foggy sky, i am angry.im unclean.ive never had a dream about you,
my mind is polluted every waking hour but asleep im
unaware.in my nightmares strangers loathe me,
loved ones hurt me,
and those i hate are absent.im scared to have no outlet for my anger.
im scared to have no scapegoat for my hate, i don't hate myself.i dont.i dont. im so
talented,
im so gifted, im ******* blessed, why do i hate myself so much -
youre so happy i want to die.i want you to die.i want us to die,
i want the link between us to die, how do i cut you off when youve burrowed yourself into everything i love,
you tainted everything when you came,
you sunk your claws in the flesh of my arms and called it an embrace,
decided
this is a good way to live,
and i shake, spite and spit and staring down,
try to pretend you dont exist.
youre rotting meat.youre flies and falsehoods am i the only one who knows
you're a ******* fraud.you lied to me.
you said i want you to care and i heard i want to eat you,  
i want you soft and easy to swallow,

[even soft i would rip you apart. im vast. im endless and youre just a girl]  
you said say something and i heard appease me
before i tell them all how sick you are.
[they know!!!!they know, everyone knows, ive never been an actress and ive stopped trying]
in fantasies youre on the floor, youre crying and im laughing,
shouting every lie you told so you hurt
just as much as i did.just as much as i do.do you feel guilt?anger?envy?
do you write poems like this about me,
do you hate me too?ive never been good at assigning blame.was it my fault?
you were a burning coal and i was a stupid kid/you were a cobra and i believed you when you said
bites dont hurt.i want to be hurt.i want a reason to feel this sick.please, please,
directionless anger, unplaceable implacable pain,
hyperventilating in a quiet room[please, im safe, im safe, please dont, dont touch me, please dont **** me]
who are you talking to? i shrugged, laughed,
you know, i can feel my bones under my skin when i sit too still.
i can feel them shake.
im trying to drown myself from the inside out, im trying to become a shark
and not a girl.im trying to eat my illness alive but i feel so
soft.my teeth cut nothing.  
december 12, 2014, friday 1:11 am: the air feels like velvet in my throat and i think im choking,
winter always made me sick. summer makes me slick, slime,
a melting statue, tears and sweat and god knows what else.
its winter and im frozen over, fevers every night. your neck is so slender she said,
a swan's neck she said,
all the better for wringing, i know, i know.an unwilling martyr,
im not here to be killed.im not delicate and meek i am huge, towering,
thick-necked like a bull. try to strangle me now, i have no feathers to pluck,
only sharp horns strong legs and
unapologetic rage.i will trample you. ill gore you through dont come near.dont touch me.
you think i cant hear you breathing but i know youre there.  
i remember my dream and clutch the rails. plot gone, words gone,
but a face and soundless mouth and a smile like i know what youve done.
these words are too cold for my mouth.i freeze when i speak.
a void trapped within thin stretching skin.
black hole waiting for my chance to implode.
i can feel it between my lungs, pulling.dense mass.collapsed star walking the crust of a
blue planet.when i die im taking this with me.when i die im taking you with me.
you thought you could just  watch me wither?you thought i would burn out,
i am cold as empty space and i am wearing myself raw and
when i burst
i will not be the only casualty.
i am so scared of  my own body. i am so scared of my own mind.
sleep doesnt come easy. december 16, 2014, friday 12:04 am: i am trying to tear down my own thoughts.
trying to fell redwoods with bare hands,
ending with ****** fingertips,
splinters beneath the nails.a childish fear of churchbells,
metal at the back of the throat body of christ in the hands, when i blink i see stars.
when i ***** i see coffee grounds.
the valley is flooded with fog and i think im dreaming,
fantasies drying like mud on my boots - gauze and gods,
surgical tape like a prayer.
caribou hearts
rotting in your cellar. do you understand? im trying to explain. wringing my hands to squeeze out the sin,
they can smell the blood i disgraced.see how easy it is?i can play along.
they play a dirge when i walk down the aisle.funereal,
an ossuary body fit only to hold my bones.
january 1st, 35°F,
i am a forest fire.im washing my face in magma, hot and hurting and numb.
burning off the skin. searing off the gauze.
amniotic fluid holier than churches
Zak Krug May 2013
The sky has darkened,
filled with clouds
a violent, jagged
black. Night has
shifted.
Thundering,
shattering across
the vast horizon.

St. Michael,
the Archangel.
Defend us in
battle.

The dream has given
way to nightmares.
Day retreats
to night.

This battle is
just another
variation of my own
jaded
reality.

I’m having a
conflict of interest.
Who will make it
out alive?

Be our protection
against the wickedness
and
snares of the Devil.

I need it now.

No shield to protect.

Dreams burned
white hot into
the back of accepting
consciousness.
Scarred from memories.

Unforgiving supernatural
spirits working
behind
the veil of what is
and what is to be.

May God rebuke him,
We humble pray.
And do thou,
O Prince of the Heavenly host,
by the power of
God.

These premonitions are growing
in the shadows of self-doubt.
Breeding self-destruction.
I must remember
better times.

If it is to be than
what can be done.
Predetermined outcomes
wait at the tipping
point between
this world
and
the gates of Hell.

Fire whipping through air
sapping life from all forms.
Red glow blinding.
Suffering ,
with a fleeting hope.

I must not forget
what past has presented.
What future holds…

Only when it is accepted that
the calloused hands of
Fate
hold the fragile strings.

Can I truly be free…

From?

****** into Hell Satan and
all the evil spirits.

Oh,
the ending is coming.

If I could only
wake up from this
haunting.
Eyes closed,
listening
to the music of life.
Watching bright light
overcome the
coal black distress.

Who prowl about
the World
seeking the ruin
of souls.

I can make it.
The time to be idle
has passed!
This battle will
turn into
all out
war.
When all one must do
is be the best person
they can be.

I can
And will.

I must.

Amen.
Onoma May 2015
As every direction goes on for good...
so one can stop and notice the
directionless--
desire needs plenty of room.
There's no placing this world,
it refuses comparison...as
all-we-know informs all-we-know.
Fiercely independent, this towering
light, this towering dark,
that bathes our private corner
of understanding...
premonitions of peace when nothing
comes to light but Light.
blackbiird Oct 2019
They say warning comes before
Destruction but I walk with Destruction.
Destruction comforts every fiber of my
being, ******* me into the black whole
of repressed memories but
I cannot escape these haunting premonitions.
MsAmendable Jul 2016
I felt the first kiss
Of a pain so familiar,
I welcome the loss
Before it begins;
The knife in place
I mourn my pace
Too soon, I cry,
Too soon.
Not sure if I already posted this
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2016
i was eating a pepperoni pizza today,
and took a salty tongue into the night,
£270 on my bank account - great stuff -
took five quid out, felt like buying four
oranjeboom reds at 8.5% each,
instead bought two, and
perrier carbonated glass-bottled water...
god the thirst in this cement sahara...

the best transition accompanying drinking
and listening to music comes
from the heights of reggae to creedence clearwater
revival... no, not the eagle, not Leonard the skin-head
with an 'ard on... creedence... lebowski who
was bukowski's posthumous alter-ego...
so i did a galileo while drinking,
the light on my side-table by the bed light
glowed, put my sunglasses on...
the stars disappeared and the planets appeared...
oddly enough, as is usual the case of
counter-intuitive matters when looking
at astronomical geographies...
mars far left... venus in the middle,
and jupiter the biggest and therefore the brightest
far right...
i worked it out against linear tactics...
the distance of the earth from venus doesn't
make a difference with the distance from mars,
but the distance of mars from jupiter is greater,
see you in 100 years to prove the point
and whether it matches up to HARD, NECESSARY,
PROOFS... LIKE MAINTENANCE ***...
******* a girl with a really really exaggerated
libido, having to wear a ****** while she was
on her period, in the toilet and she bewildered
saying: 'most guys don't dig the female bits...'
hell... i'd do necrophilia...
shame the relationship turned to a sour toast with her,
shame, really... really really.
oh yeah, after smashing that £600 martin & co.
guitar to celebrate valentines day
(
chłopiec z gitarą był by dla mnie parą
my grandmother used to sing...
well... sorry to disappoint,
i had her rastafarian shoelaces for
a pin-up belt to walk and play, or simply
stand still and note string twangs...
*była giiitara... ni ma giiitary
...)
and bought myself a drum-kit:
well... just my finger-drumming antics
on my legs;
or as a wise man said: **** her, leave the rest
for a backward trek into life
without maps but only premonitions.
traces of being Nov 2016
Vanguard snows blanket
Cougar Mountain sublimity

In the ashen distance between
contrasts of white on white ,
just above the disappearing
Majestic  alpine  timberline

Painterly allusions cast
a weary and elusive amity,

distinctive premonitions adrift
driven before the wind

The wayfaring  wolf  looks back,
wind  broken ,   beset
a cold and lonely peace

Swarthy  paw  prints
sink  deeply
into  the  will  to  be


fiercely stirring purpose

feral  awareness  keen

existence steadfast

perseverance  unwavering


Driven  by  the  power  ­of  love


                                                   ­                                     wild  is  the  wind
                                       ­                                                  *giving  thanks
NOTE: (Wandering Wolf 'OR-7') Google it, as it is inspiring


November 24th, 2016

Once there was a way to get back home

even alone
love is the purpose
still
and shall be unendingly ♥

"if it be your will to let me  sing"
nod to L. Cohen

https://youtu.be/F9Xx0MTcsCk
If it be your will - Antony Hegarty [written by Leonard Cohen]
.
RyanMJenkins Jun 2013
The sound
The look
The taste
The touch

It's all a perfectly painted portrait you privately processed, patched with hope.

The certainty
The promises
As the days pass us

The roundabouts regularly revisiting rocky ravines reassure us to hold on to that rope.

The visions of fantasies
The feelings combust

Passionate portrayals with punctual pauses providing positivity to possibly promote premonitions

In truth we trust

To transcend temptations of trivial trickeries by treading on tip-toes through troubled trebutaries

To let go, seems a must.

Hallucinations from a lack of sleep, are leading me into a field of dreams. There I find that *anything's possible, and nothing is really what it seems.
anger....worry...fear..mistrust.  It's danger hurry and make it disappear, we must.  Don't rush, slow down,  and carefully craft guiding each piece of string unto that gown.  Let the walls fall, and seize your call.  Never let a moment persist in which you regret it all

— The End —