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Rory Herd Aug 2014
Under pretenses of platonic embraces
You placed me in your dark spaces
Seems i'm left to try putting pieces back together
Or dare to stop the yelling in all forms of weathered
Your wounds old as my half-life
A knife-artist with words your whetstone's worn from tears
And fears
Inspired by years of life read strife
In which dynamic characters play out their rage but there is no separating stage
To guard an audience too young an age
Witnessing rated 14 years of pain coming frequently to term in your dynamic rib-cage
Only to be released like one of Gigers beasts
Tell me how you entertain healing with your lesions so unyielding
When your brows wielding a dark frown it cues a cowards heart to fall down
I must confess my weakness' too strong to state psychological fact
Thus I would retroact as I came back after every attack
To this day my silence threatens more verbal violence
But I can't blame me as i'm not the only one to see what prunes this knotted family tree
We all suffered cuts by our lucidity
As we just try to be while on the perifery of such ugly scenes
Choosing instead to close an eye while our ears heard you mutually belie
Rather than wield the truth and be free of s(illy noise)
I wish you would truly lose it
Then this tale of anguish might end
But until then from dark pasts and burning astrology you won't be free
Your troubles need drugs emotion and stimulating company
Now which of those is most addictive to your egochemistry
Continually self-medicating to satiate such neuro-chemochotomies
The thrill of tripping skipping flipping dipping back into youth
Do we not serve to intoxicate you remake you ten times tall and years-lost proof
And in return the kitchen hordes and possibility doors we're open to yes I won’t fail to mention the gifts given above all of which was the two of you


By nature tragic
This tangent
Can't walk away once one’s chose the path of magic
So graphic
It's embarrassing to ever have had it
Hate no wit
These are the wounds I keep open from view
So no more shall I lay for you
For shame I speak then I make it true
Beggars can choose not to be fools but
These days i'm kool, gravediggin' on Dr. Seuss
( Dust Kings line: Now there's a playa who spoke the truth)

An unseen tapestry of majesty alludes to pagan revelry
only in the lines beside our eyes while the tale flows forth from the massives mind
it speaks of times of joy and height
In which we’d play and with sticks fight
the day
or contrast it’s way
For does not the dark shimmer around the bright
That we were hahh the feeling so pure
I must heed the god of audio
To which we’d all bow so low
Like hierophants the more we’d know
the more we would then grow
into a united flow
did carry us
like waterfalling up to drink supernal highs
Where boredom dares to go and dies
Shall we soar with a cccccometeor
and finally arrive
To a not so modest eden
Source of body mind soul feedin’
Where there grew a paradise of seats, and blankets, fires, sweet tea and loquatious freaks
And maybe some enlightening treats
what feats were inspired by the beats
And endless, endless pages of dreams!
And ancient wisdom stacked in reams against all walls they were the beams
which held the roof above our centers
To a place that if you did enter
Would stay inside of you forever
Ye traveller know what that threshold offers
A hospitality unmatched by emperors coffers
A spectrum of pleasures amid pain from swift boffers
And company of quality untouched by the weight of dollars
Dare to release the big red latch
and watch what mayhem unleashed that we dare catch
If one should be so lucky
and yes we found each other so very funny
and if the walls could speak they would only laugh or wryly beware
There’s just nothing to compare
To growing up and out and everywhere
As we did when we tred there

The best of times are yet to come but with no little death
And yet I sometimes wonder how much ppppparty we have left
But no words will reflect said bounties or meet the scales of justice
If that bird rocked to this scene, she’d get loose and lustrous


Not wholly tragic
Lifes tangent
I can walk where I please cast my own hands magic
Foot traffic
The best times do rhyme I know ‘cause I had it
A Deep graphic
I’ve danced with witches, fairies, kooks it’s true
What stories doth desire choose
Quite a bit of fun the two of you
Beggars learnt to live like lords it’s lewd
Aaaaand i'm still kool, gravediggin' on Alliterine Use


I learned the difference between bullstool and dreams
And it seems
That in between
So many passionate empathies and of the things you said to me which further your hypocrisy
There lies a respect not grudgingly cloaking a love of sound mind soul body which sees it’s mishaps p’raps and each repeat one agrees that ones heart feels dark when one succeeds to see what hurts a family tree
To ignore ones own lucidity Is stupidity insulting our intelligent tendencies
So now here see
We’re all ruled by our cruel feelings and selfish dreams as we all shoot for our own ending
Our heads never above our hearts it’s an ugly anatomy
Feel what I mean
So I won’t deny that by mistakes you witnessed of mine so many times I finally realised how to walk alright
And what it means for responsibility to be tried
To hold my head up so I can wield my hands and just maybe to be my own man
Those fools duels are not aside for you cried by spite to get me out of your life for just a while after you decide that what’s in your heart can hurt mine by an extreme vindictive right
So flightly I would leave nightly I’d fight me when I look back to see  where venom has thus struck thee
You didn’t see me
But one does realize what lies or rather cries inside and how it might set ones words alight


Truthfully tragic
One’s tangent
None of us seem to know all the magic
Fantastic
Let’s keep trying ‘till mastery is graspeedegh ( epic troll)
-wibblestick
I want to rob a punk band with a shoe
Pulled off with good insights and tunes
Could be a spot of fun if you’re upto
Crunk your young selves yelling to be used
Beggars choose
To be with good company who feel the blues as well as all the other hues
There's a box down in my basement
It's not hidden far away
It's a box that's full of history
things from, well....another day
It sits there like a statue
Never opened, all forlorn
Holding pictures and their secrets
from a time when I weren't born
It's blue with brass side stapping
It takes up two cubic feet
It just sits there in the corner
Yelling...OPEN ME....but, be discreet
Love letters and photos
unfinished projects from the past
Newspaper announcements
Lots of things you want to last
It's a box that is worth sharing
Stories living in a box
It sits there closed and oh, forgotten
It sits there closed, there are no locks
There's few around who've seen the contents
Even less who know the names
Of people in all the pictures
It's not just sad, it is a shame
The box is full of untold stories
A love story that should be heard
It's written in two lovers writing
No need to translate, not a word
It is the tale of two fine people
Parents of my wife, they say
This box tells of Margaret and Charlie
They both are gone, before this day
It's musty when you smell it
But, isn't that how things should be
There's school reports and lockets
A father lost when she was three
I think of them when I look at it
Artifacts stored for none to see
I never met them, but I miss them
They'd be proud of who she came to be
this box is Megan's life force
It helped make her strong and proud
It shows she is an Edwards
The contents scream it really loud
there is a box down in my basement
It' a box of writing, reams and reams
I look forward to our meeting
One quiet night inside my dreams
The people who filled up the inside
Are my family, though we've not met
I'd like to take this chance to tell them
Their girl is safe, they need not fret.
This is not fictional. The box does exist in my..OUR basement. Megan is my wife and the daughter of Charlie and Margaret. Charlie passed away when Megan was three years old and Margaret, when Megan was fifteen. They would surely be proud of her, as I am.....now, where to move this box?
Keith W Fletcher May 2016
Nobody lives
In the Here and Now
We live in a past
As it rips and trips
It's way
Through a future
Like an arrow through air
Never actually existing
In any absolute
Parameter
Of space or time
Hurtling through
The ever-present
Modulating waves
Of the eminent existence

Like the  waves
Of water of an ocean
Upon meeting its own
Inevitable resistance.   
 Zone  
The  rocky shores up ahead

With nowhere to continue
Falling back
In futile retreat
Absorbed
Battered
By a past
Catching up at last

As the once
Forward-thinking
Now..... Ever  shrinking
Mind
Of the actual
Factual
Suddenly reactional
Mortal
Who's
Primal human thoughts
That were
In the millionth
Of a millionth of a billionth
Of  a second
scattered
When they were splattered
Upon
Slamming headlong
Into the time wall of Eternity
Like the seawall of an ocean where the Timeless spirit lives
Spinning out Reams and reams of time to be flung
Blown Away in the nothingness
Smiling as it works
time and time
Forevermore
listening to the past
As it
crashing upon the shore
Rob Rutledge Dec 2013
The words they slept in shadows,
Unspoken in the night.
When a hand reached forth
With nightshade blade,
To poison anothers plight.

Sweet dreams,
Oh Lord of Lamentations.
Let the aether surround
With reams of false augmentation.
For the sick and the weak
Those we ignore and mistreat
Are no longer eight hours away.
Empires will fall
While we rest and decay
Cerebrally enslaved
To the light of day.
PK Wakefield May 2010
hot womb blooms
                                "'time is an in-finite mother'"
bursting  belly bloats
withs
econds
creaming
rand
reams
          they cry out
for release
  trapped in hollow tight
but
      they burn
but a second
                      before
smothered by                             passing
                                 kin
smoking from             that                           kiln
Hal Loyd Denton Jan 2013
Restoration

I found myself in a desert the sun beat down relentlessly you see I was just one more fool living on the
Devil’s life plan he comes and sizes you up watches with intensity not of care but hate he doesn’t take
Long he has seen the same thing multiplied many times before he does a little razz and dazzle if you
Could have seen my face you would know how appealing it was oh that’s right you got the same
Treatment you see this desert is where he houses all of his captives it’s so wide and vast the thought is
Who’s trapped but we are like the icy ice berg but with us it’s the conscious like the tip then the
Subconscious is all that mass the true awe and power of being human I want to insert two pieces I wrote
That deals with the subconscious I believe you will benefit from them just one more person’s thoughts
On Such a grand subject
Piercing the Inner Sanctum
The trivial the less important will never even get a start into the bastion of peace and well being that is
Sacred and defended to the last breath the one irresistible caller that is never barred and who is as a
Master key is beauty to no avail can you post guards loveliness has no comparisons like spectacle in any
And all forms it governs and rules all of our hearts once seen the invitation is never with drawn like the
Vistas seen from a high mountain incomparable glory is touched sequestered in depths of appreciation
Moments of grandeur with this spell compression is ultimate the thick richness slowly sinks beyond all
Comprehension it will linger for a life time the blues are the high honor of dress befitting a person of
Rare quality to have and squander cherished gifts the emptiness can never be measured but to make
Contact with the sublime on a desert plane the one invaluable gift of solitude no pretense or frivolity
To cause error or a missed chance to speak and hear wonders undeniable voice that is attended by rare
Essences of tranquility that robes itself in splendor it beckons in pure language simplicity that astounds
Bewilderment of the highest order lodges in your soul the hush of holy beings are noticed if only by the
Assured peace that builds a walled fortress nothing can assail these attainments visited and began
By The unutterable beauty that moves with conscious and deliberate design to bestow upon you
The Perfection that once ruled in Eden

Now deeper the mind seeks to find the way where all rules are absent

Bedazzled Dreamer
Put the long boat in the deep waters of the mind the calm peaceful knowing all is glowing we glide not
Knowing where were going the subconscious will be our guide dividing the two worlds the quiet
Submersible is wild anything may be floating in these depths we have left shore far behind truly
We have entered unchartered waters there is no fixable Bering a lustiness takes over there is no helm
Just a pervading looseness not unsettling but truly uncharacteristic for the coconscious must always
Have a grip a grasp of what is where it is and every detail must be quantified now all senses are blown
A storm is brewing its far reaches unknown but there is softness that excludes fear the overriding
Thought is possibilities can be forged maximized eternalized thoughts are ghost like unknown entities
They were formally known but now remain a mystery dislodged from thought bases that are not solid
All is free association tantalizing in one sense then disconcerting in another what do I do with my mind
Surly it has jumped off the track I could be bewildered if I could get a hold on the situation free flowing
Unspoken but still distinctively saying volumes where is the slow button reams voluminous thoughts
Are spewing into nothingness being lost I can’t keep up the discernible is mixed with eons and theorems
Time and space is void of meaning the world here is elastic mass it convulses at will no parameters exist
The only thing constant is high velocity change being in one place is impossible all is jumbled who stirred
This caldron in my mind voice and pure thought are the same think it know it what burdensome lives we
Live when it is all a tattered sail on rough seas we behold nothing know nothing in the extreme
Romanticism blurts out sail for Trafalgar we are strangers in a plush gifted void try as we will there is
No simple answers but we are a simple people truly the only time were are fit is when we are
Sound Asleep well then sleep on and I will do the same dreaming is therapeutic just think how
Crazy we would be without it

So with that small insight this is more truth I signed my life away to the devil and here is the fun
Part it’s like your hardly comfortable on a computer your on this small frame here he is on a
Worldwide super computer and he is a **** like no other you are slowly crawling along he is
Miles Ahead of you try to strike order in life this answer comes back it has been high jacked its
Not even your thoughts any more it’s completely contrary to all that is decent and ideal but it
Comes as a fog it creates a state of disinformation this is how we find we are bound in half truths
In this state how far from love how desperate is our circumstances what caused and allowed
Us to be left to the dry treacherous land of being forgotten misplaced without remedy to know the dark
Embrace of loneliness we are a people of language it finds us it speaks health to our inward being it is
The gentle soothing the spell that alone provides the structure the melodious times hear the flow of
Refreshing water from hidden springs they bend at just the right place they find us where dark
Broodings Are pulling us into compromise and ruin we feel and taste the surety of joy the call of
Assuredness is known in these depths this internal dismay of mazes infernal are their crushing blows
Does it wash away the meaningful is the face of grace seen to be drowning in walled in terrain to high to
Climb to understanding that enlightening that is our very humanness our ability to connect to share
Never forgetting who and where we came from the integral foundation that builds us as a people was
This first dislodging the first steps of chaos the hardness that drives and separates to quickly we are
Adrift and at the stern is ego without measure and the seeds of discontent are what we are sowing not
The creative roots of harmony and good will burned black by the desert sun all descriptors fail to show
The unique the part that truly was wondrously made no one is looking they are only into the new
Exciting theses very words are the quiet assault that is aimed at them they need restored but they never
Will agree then a nanny kills two little ones in her charge stabs them to death with this insane step into
Yet deeper subterranean darkness the roots of life are growing but they are poisoned throughout it
Reflects on the service the body is racked twisted as a gnarled old tree that can look picture perfect in
Nature but terrible in human life in this state of waste and need of restoration I could hardly see who
Cares at that point the view is most disgusting and in this condition all hope lost the final boat has sailed
With it the last of human dignity goes under the deep black waves when this thought was strongest the
Sea was not my reality only the lifeless desert it was all there was but all of a sudden was it mind tricks a
Mirage I was seeing this beautiful bough filled with blossoms and from there it continued to grow and
Spread out before me all green grasses a profusion of glorious colored flowers of all kinds it started to
Break through the deadness of my mind a time long forgotten slowly started to emerge I couldn’t see
Anyone but I knew that a visitor had joined me tears started like a dam had broken somewhere deep
Within all I knew I was truly loved I had worth and value I could feel it being added anew where I was
An eye sore just moments before now I was a princely person I had this intense sense of whoever it was
Who joined me had known extreme suffering He got me on every level and he was repairing and
Restoring those long festering wounds they just seem to fall off and the greatest peace started to emit
From my inner being there was just a sense of well being that was mountainous and truly rivers of joy
Started to flow out and away my friends step into these words they come from the great restorer your the gift that the thief stole and now you have been reclaimed
rachel burch Nov 2015
What it would be to have wings
And lift oneself up
To have
Feathers jewelled like the dark,
Evergreens in the inky night.

To stretch out and hover fast
Against star led currents
And glowing thermals.

The world stretched out beneath,
Like reams of dark memory
Inscribed against iridescent feather.

And then to glide, to down soar
Landing slow, to feel earth's  winged beat
Again, and hold the feathered
Jewels against the heart.
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2012
I came to a courtyard of my own making,
To a cottage by the sea at the worlds edge.
I furnished it with my left over life, complete,
Barren and colorless and I wrote the newest
Book of psalms out of tinder and flame, a tome
Of grey and useless poems, unheard of songs
And reams of flesh.  There in the lightest dark,
By the Druid stone that was placed just for me,
I planted a creeping yew tree.  And the moon
Sang in celebration and silence like a fallen
Priest.  
                    Under the covering hazel trees,
That sprung to life after the longest winter,
Which taught me to forget my name, I now
Struggle with light and my body, warring, torn
Is fading slow, like the always arriving, down
Turning solstice, the climates of the mind,
Where it is digging the never ending shallow
Hole only the spreading eternal yew, that I
Planted, will ever know and only the Lazarus
Moon shall ever rise above.

I came to a courtyard of my own making,
Was it dream that led me there or my eyes?
spysgrandson Mar 2012
I saw him zip by
in a dark alley
in a charcoal dream
not running from
but to...?

I walked, however one walks
in an alley in a morning dream
and he began chasing me
“Mama” coming from his lips

I ran
and he followed
closing in on me
with a silent dog by his side

What did I have to fear
from this scurrying simian?
save being a mother
a dream denied by my…
genitalia

Freud wrote reams
on the interpretation of dreams
and perhaps now
I am ready to read
what the master dreamed

For one has no cause
to run from small monkeys
unless…
they are moaning for a mother
one could never be

And does my own son ever feel so alone?
was it he that we left in some dark place?
running with mute dogs
and crying out for the cord
meant to tether him
to this spinning world
floW Nov 2019
D reams are more existent than reality
E ach of us experiences more pain than happiness
A ll trauma is equal
T raumatic experiences are more important than joyous ones
H ealing is inevitable, and yet impossible.
Aias Agapios Aug 2014
A vision of perfection under moonless skies
And in their hearts but hopes and dreams
Numerous as the stars up high
Disappears as he holds them,into unlit stream...

In the bright sky-light of a moonless night 
When shadows dance on darkened sand
When loudest words swim in soundless sight 
In waves of water, on waves of land

Twilights last rose gave up its golden dust
As nightingales at large, bereft of voice
The yellow-red orb of the sun grew cold in the dusk
And humanity forgot, gave up its choice

And still he chased his flagrant dreams
Bleeding soles, he ran, burnt fingers still held
Heart ache and disappointment he passed in reams
The insanity of desire, none could mend.

And in his madness he found peace
And in his dreams a quiet solace
When fear and joy mingle, love and hate released
Where life is lived with no thought for the debased

On he walked on a thousand mile road
A thousand mile was walked, was none
On he walked with a hundred tonne load
A hundred tonne he carried as none

With no end in sight an end was found
A sightless silence, a visionary tune
Where the air was earth, where ocean-ground
When water could start and oil put off all fumes

With a vision of perfection under moonless sky
And in their hearts but hopes and dreams
Numerous as the stars up high
Reappear as he holds them,from moonlit stream...
Justin Blaauw Mar 2010
Soft silver honeydew drops plop
Onto red lips crimson flecked,
Tulips bedded down brushed thread
Across my mouth and forehead.

Flaked copper green wash screams from your eyes, dreams,
Their  forked tongue corona feels out my mind,
I breathe
I breathe
I breathe in the fumes and tendrils of perfumes of
You and sweat and salty reams tangy sparkles in streams tangerine

Hypnotic, as locked lipped lovers leap
Into oblivion deep
Arms legs ankles steeped in the rasping sheets
Between us
Over us
Beneath us
Streak.

I love you that deep.
Hal Loyd Denton Apr 2013
Put the long boat in the deep waters of the mind the calm peaceful knowing all is glowing we glide not

Knowing where were going the subconscious will be our guide dividing the two worlds the quiet
Submersible is wild anything may be floating in these depths we have left shore far behind truly

We have entered unchartered waters there is no fixable Bering a lustiness takes over there is no helm
Just a pervading looseness not unsettling but truly uncharacteristic for the coconscious must always

Have a grip a grasp of what is where it is and every detail must be quantified now all senses are blown
A storm is brewing its far reaches unknown but there is softness that excludes fear the overriding

Thought is possibilities can be forged maximized eternalized thoughts are ghost like unknown entities
They were formally known but now remain a mystery dislodged from thought bases that are not solid

All is free association tantalizing in one sense then disconcerting in another what do I do with my mind
Surly it has jumped off the track I could be bewildered if I could get a hold on the situation free flowing

Unspoken but still distinctively saying volumes where is the slow button reams voluminous thoughts
Are spewing into nothingness being lost I can’t keep up the discernible is mixed with eons and theorems

Time and space is void of meaning the world here is elastic mass it convulses at will no parameters exist
The only thing constant is high velocity change being in one place is impossible all is jumbled who stirred

This caldron in my mind voice and pure thought are the same think it know it what burdensome lives we
Live when it is all a tattered sail on rough seas we behold nothing know nothing in the extreme

Romanticism blurts out sail for Trafalgar we are strangers in a plush gifted void try as we will there is
No simple answers but we are a simple people truly the only time were are fit is when we are sound

Asleep well then sleep on and I will do the same dreaming is therapeutic just think how crazy we would
Be without it
Laura EK Aug 2012
In the velvet dark that holds all dreams,
A thousand hopes are given flighted chance.
Optimistic wishes waft through empty beams.

A gentle ashen pallor moonlight reams;
A billion shadowed niches seem to dance
Within the velvet dark that holds all dreams.

A bluish glow though leafy vellum seams
Can thread its way through thick and wooden lance.
Optimistic wishes waft through empty beams.

And oh! the silken light above that streams,
Dissolving all the hundred million "can't"s
Within the velvet dark that holds all dreams.

The night that's holding precious breath, it teems
With broken vows, inconsequential rants;
Optimistic wishes waft through empty beams.

The wish for what is come to be, it seems,
Envelopes friendships, hopeful romance.
Within the velvet dark that holds all dreams,
Optimistic wishes waft through empty beams.
Saved this from years ago. There's something I still like about it.
Rue G Jun 2015
i missed the Mythril age of high school
when Shadows graced our halls
and beautiful Boys were hailed
with every step that falls

these Boys with Angelic beauty
were Demonic in their strength
their Wit sharper than any sword
of human make or length

'twas a warrior King who led them
and others (almost) as fine
He was much revered by his people
and will be loved 'til the end of Time

a great Battle once he led
much remembered and retold
to defend the Hill of revelry
once the stronghold of the Bold

his Fighters were formed and eager
both male and Female in their Ranks
just the sight of them made most lose heart-
flee with their tails between their flanks

too soon his reign came to and end-
through the iron Gates he passed-
to his Brothers, Sisters, Lovers, Friends
He left his Legacy at the last

i missed the Mythril age of high school
of the Quiet and the Elvenfair
the Artists, Writers, Singers, Dancers-
reams of Talent esoteric and rare

i came on the edge of a transition
from the Old age to the new
i live in the age of tarnished Silver
a less forgiving hue

i was honored to be with the last of Them
before their time was done
first a willowy Queen and Princesses-
of their silver Harem i was one

our Revels we held within our Hall
for the Hill was never ours
it was held by the pitiful dregs
of the revered King's old warriors

the second Queen i was blessed to serve
was an Artist without peer
She ruled with fairness and a ready laugh
sang with a Voice so crystal clear

the Mythril few, and fewer still,
were the Silver in our Hall
there were young ones of crude Iron
to whom the majority did fall

the willow Queen's leaving had scattered
the silver Harem, far and wide
some to new schools, Mates, heart-Children-
but i stayed, for the final Mythril tide

i missed the Mythril age of high school
but found friends in those remaining
the mythril Princess i love most of all
who banished my tears without complaining

Warrior, Writer, and Dancer is She,
Healer and Songstress as well
above all, Pure and loving Friend-
and gifted with a Siren's spell

others have their own place in this tale
new heart-Brothers through Her i met
long-grad Guardians to defend Her
from whatever harm beset

all those who were my Garnet-
heart-Family, strong and true
defended, loved and gave me
a taste of Freedom's brew

now i embrace Her, the final mythril Queen
Silent Siren, Rose of Night
mea Cara, mea Regina
lady of the crimson Twilight

heart-Sister of the warrior King
alas, this realm is shorn
the Hill claimed by junkies and tramps
that blow the rutting horn

for summer's End, Autumn's breadth,
and winter's Birth she'll rule
then the iron Gates will beckon
and she , too, will leave the school

at Her side sits a beautiful Boy
last Prince of the mythril Line
my beloved Queen's heart-Brother
who'll rule for three Years' time

from Fade of winter, to fevered Spring,
'til Spark of summer-my Eighteenth year-
for Him i'll sit as Regent-queen
Failure-only one of many fears

i am but Silver and heart-Child;
umbra and amica to our Queen
He is Scion and Prodigy
on whom our simple hopes must lean

i missed the Mythril age of high school
from which this young Prince springs
perhaps He'll do what We cannot
so Mythril bells again will ring
written in 2007 or 2008
Trevor Comeau Mar 2011
Reams of sunlight
Gleam off crystal clear
water of desires
now its just you and me.

Theres a calmness
within the air
a stillness
beyond all compare

Sun rises
sun sets
with us watching
upon these stone steps

we stopped to
ponder all the
worlds a wonder.

Now together
you and I,
partake in all of gods wonders.
2-16-11
Wk kortas Dec 2016
I’d heard a story in that proverbial once upon a time
(Though its origins are hazy, at best, to me now:
Perhaps something my son heard at Sunday school,
Or part of the never-ending nattering
From the marketing guy at lunchtime,
Maybe cackled by the crazy, toothless blind guy on the 16A bus)
Concerning the programmers who’d worked on a project
In the earliest days of nano-technology,
Creating software for their relative monoliths,
Australopitchecuses of artificial intelligence,
Serving as prototypes for some envisioned universe
Where tiny drones served the whims of some doctor or researcher
Operating unseen and omnipotent behind some microscope or monitor.
The trials went quite smoothly, almost flawlessly,
The models impeccably doing what binary switches
And if-then-else statements decreed,
But the researches noticed that
Just before they executed the final bit of code,
The models would invariably exhibit
A slight hesitation--almost imperceptible, infinitesimal even,
But clearly occurring, nonetheless.

They’d assumed, quite naturally, it was a mere matter of de-bugging,
Some misplaced comma or parentheses among the thousands,
But they reviewed the code any number of dozens of time,
Only to find it was clean as a whistle.
What’s more, they’d found that while the vacillation appeared
At the same point in the process,
It didn’t happen at exactly the same time;
Indeed, they cropped up, relatively speaking, months, even years apart.
One of the white coats jokingly referred to the pause
As the machines “Peggy Lee moment”
(You know, ‘Is that all there is?’)
But no one else involved the project saw the humor.
They’d decided to ignore or accept the quirk, though it was rumored
That it drove a few of the programmers to near-madness,
With one or two of their number bolting the project without notice,
Entering monasteries with the intent
Of shutting themselves off from the outside world
For the rest of their days, and its existence was buried
In reams of footnotes at the end of their final report
(Though as I said, the tale’s source is unclear,
And I am inclined to regard it as apocryphal.)
krytersmeladdo
Karen Alexander Sep 2012
I watch a woman smile as leaves, like red fingered stars
Swirl round her in the stiff autumn wind.
She bends clutching handfuls of crisp copper wafers to her chest
And I'm reminded of childhood games;

They fall more thickly
And there's surprise and wonder in her eyes
At one with the breeze and the leaves
She spins in the dance, arms flung wide

Old memories dance before me; unbidden, chaotic,
With no promise of restoration or renewal
Their forever darkness still red slashed
As ghost sores weep

Love letters falling like leaves
Bleed from my breast in reams
Once written in heart blood
Golden gilded with the glow of possibilities
Once light, they now pool at my feet

I should catch them up, press them tightly to my chest
to staunch the flow of life's essence
But a sharp slashing cut which evicerates
and the sense darkness beyond paralyses

Here is the edge of grief
I revised the original poem, I hope for the better.
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2015
.
My treasure awaits,
Has pearls to uncover,
Locked in lips of flesh,
Rose petals, blushing full
Cheek, eyes of lacing nebula
Exploding in milk of heavens,
This treasure I must hoard,
Climb on to the proud chest
And unlock, spun gold threads,
Sparkles in tresses of crown,
Sovereign pink hands, tendered,
Are freckled in beads of amber,
A brooch of navel, whirlpools,
Commands my ***** greed
Toward singular jewel of her
Thighs, lanyard of legging,
Of toes, whispering ripples
Till the under tides ripped
Agast in so much bounty,
Casked in reams of satin
And flows of wet breaths
Was nary sunk, drunken,
Moony in starry love ring,
Now, by map of dream
I bury my treasure.
Tunneling thoughts like rain
Craning through light clouds
Unsuspecting victims.

The fear
The tears
The temper tantrums;
                                           A kind of rebuttal

That won't let our feet find land
We adjourned to rehearse,
but our efforts were null and void

Only to appease with flames
that licked our shriveled bodies

D r
       i    p
                 p  i  n
                             g  
                                              Kerosene

Tainted like ink                  Spilled on
Reams of paper
ruined like Christmas
A house warmed by          Open flames

fallen candles                     Adorning
A naked kitchen                 My limp body,

Splayed beneath the oven      
                                               As
darkness indulges,             It
consumes
The smoke,                          Fills                
                                               Each crevice
                                               In your mind

Can you ever fight it
Burn your way back
To blissful ignorance.
A poem intertwined with a dream of you living with my memory, sordid as per usual..
Bluejay Nov 2014
The embers have died
the fire is lost and gone,
all night she sat and cried,
for her, he spent his life to fawn.

She is the girl of any guy's dreams,
tall, pale, and long ebony hairs.
She belongs in the movie reams,
in love with the hero who really cares.

Alone she would hide away,
a ghost girl to the town and all,
at least it seemed that way,
until her life truly did fall.

He would give his life
just for one single kiss.
She would be the greatest wife
of all, she deserved eternal bliss.

So on this bleak, winter night
with strong, howling wind
snow covering the land in white,
each emotionless plant, twinned.

Out he ventured in fright,
filled with hopes to see
his love before she was out of sight,
or deprived of gay and glee.

Something over took
him, when he saw a soaring
raven, on the edge of the brook.
It jumped in the water that was roaring.

Intrigued and enticed,
he followed without will.
On the side was a body iced,
however heart beating still.

The body was his love,
the kind madden of his heart,
whom had been taken above,
despite his pain of her depart.

"Raven, oh Raven,
save him from his pain
and the love he's been cravin'
turn the snow to pouring rain."

This her soul cried
with everything it had;
completely unaware, she had died,
and why he was so sad.

How could he know
she would be alright and fine,
if his love he could not show,
nor could he say, "She's mine."

Don't expect a smile
from one who can only cry.
This pain will be more than a while,
cause now he decided he too must die.
Owlman Mar 2014
Dark and humid, as i opened my eyes
encircled by rocks, each twenty feet high
Could feel the grass under my feet
music of a small spring ,running with speed

Baffled by senses, filled with awe
a pathway in rocks, was what i saw
a blinding light, shined into my eyes
had this strange feeling, that i would die

frightening and fast, a figure was closing
frantic and frail, mind, that's what i'm losing
black hound, with knives in jaw
**** or be killed, that's nature's law

muscles waxed with sweat
fiery eyes carved in the head
thrusting into space
he picked up the pace

i knelt on one knee, left hand forward
clenched my fist , as he was coming toward
gathered my grit, waiting for the hound
this was the moment, that my life was abound

he bit the left, right hand took the neck
it was a sacrifice, i had to make
gazed at his eyes, " is that all you got? "
the beast groaned and that's all i got

suddenly, we were fused
equilibrium, is the word i choose
i felt his pain and he felt mine
the chills running down the spine

i wake up, that's not the end
some day near, my dear friend
we settle this fight, this never ending fray
fight with all your might, you are my prey

some day near my demon, i'll face you
at the same time, i'll embrace you
till that day, we share this dream
a million nights, a million reams
you call this a nightmare i call it a dream
Hal Loyd Denton Oct 2012
I found myself in a desert the sun beat down relentlessly you see I was just one more fool living on the
Devil’s life plan he comes and sizes you up watches with intensity not of care but hate he doesn’t take
Long he has seen the same thing multiplied many times before he does a little razz and dazzle if you
Could have seen my face you would know how appealing it was oh that’s right you got the same
Treatment you see this desert is where he houses all of his captives it’s so wide and vast the thought is
Who’s trapped but we are like the icy ice berg but with us it’s the conscious like the tip then the
Subconscious is all that mass the true awe and power of being human I want to insert two pieces I wrote
That deals with the subconscious I believe you will benefit from them just one more person’s thoughts
On Such a grand subject
Piercing the Inner Sanctum
The trivial the less important will never even get a start into the bastion of peace and well being that is
Sacred and defended to the last breath the one irresistible caller that is never barred and who is as a
Master key is beauty to no avail can you post guards loveliness has no comparisons like spectacle in any
And all forms it governs and rules all of our hearts once seen the invitation is never with drawn like the
Vistas seen from a high mountain incomparable glory is touched sequestered in depths of appreciation
Moments of grandeur with this spell compression is ultimate the thick richness slowly sinks beyond all
Comprehension it will linger for a life time the blues are the high honor of dress befitting a person of
Rare quality to have and squander cherished gifts the emptiness can never be measured but to make
Contact with the sublime on a desert plane the one invaluable gift of solitude no pretense or frivolity
To cause error or a missed chance to speak and hear wonders undeniable voice that is attended by rare
Essences of tranquility that robes itself in splendor it beckons in pure language simplicity that astounds
Bewilderment of the highest order lodges in your soul the hush of holy beings are noticed if only by the
Assured peace that builds a walled fortress nothing can assail these attainments visited and began
By The unutterable beauty that moves with conscious and deliberate design to bestow upon you
The Perfection that once ruled in Eden

Now deeper the mind seeks to find the way where all rules are absent

Bedazzled Dreamer
Put the long boat in the deep waters of the mind the calm peaceful knowing all is glowing we glide not
Knowing where were going the subconscious will be our guide dividing the two worlds the quiet
Submersible is wild anything may be floating in these depths we have left shore far behind truly
We have entered unchartered waters there is no fixable Bering a lustiness takes over there is no helm
Just a pervading looseness not unsettling but truly uncharacteristic for the coconscious must always
Have a grip a grasp of what is where it is and every detail must be quantified now all senses are blown
A storm is brewing its far reaches unknown but there is softness that excludes fear the overriding
Thought is possibilities can be forged maximized eternalized thoughts are ghost like unknown entities
They were formally known but now remain a mystery dislodged from thought bases that are not solid
All is free association tantalizing in one sense then disconcerting in another what do I do with my mind
Surly it has jumped off the track I could be bewildered if I could get a hold on the situation free flowing
Unspoken but still distinctively saying volumes where is the slow button reams voluminous thoughts
Are spewing into nothingness being lost I can’t keep up the discernible is mixed with eons and theorems
Time and space is void of meaning the world here is elastic mass it convulses at will no parameters exist
The only thing constant is high velocity change being in one place is impossible all is jumbled who stirred
This caldron in my mind voice and pure thought are the same think it know it what burdensome lives we
Live when it is all a tattered sail on rough seas we behold nothing know nothing in the extreme
Romanticism blurts out sail for Trafalgar we are strangers in a plush gifted void try as we will there is
No simple answers but we are a simple people truly the only time were are fit is when we are
Sound Asleep well then sleep on and I will do the same dreaming is therapeutic just think how
Crazy we would be without it

So with that small insight this is more truth I signed my life away to the devil and here is the fun
Part it’s like your hardly comfortable on a computer your on this small frame here he is on a
Worldwide super computer and he is a **** like no other you are slowly crawling along he is  
Miles Ahead of you try to strike order in life this answer comes back it has been high jacked its
Not even your thoughts any more it’s completely contrary to all that is decent and ideal but it
Comes as a fog it creates a state of disinformation this is how we find we are bound in half truths  
In this state how far from love how desperate is our circumstances what caused and allowed
Us to be left to the dry treacherous land of being forgotten misplaced without remedy to know the dark
Embrace of loneliness we are a people of language it finds us it speaks health to our inward being it is
The gentle soothing the spell that alone provides the structure the melodious times hear the flow of
Refreshing water from hidden springs they bend at just the right place they find us where dark
Broodings Are pulling us into compromise and ruin we feel and taste the surety of joy the call of
Assuredness is known in these depths this internal dismay of mazes infernal are their crushing blows
Does it wash away the meaningful is the face of grace seen to be drowning in walled in terrain to high to
Climb to understanding that enlightening that is our very humanness our ability to connect to share
Never forgetting who and where we came from the integral foundation that builds us as a people was
This first dislodging the first steps of chaos the hardness that drives and separates to quickly we are
Adrift and at the stern is ego without measure and the seeds of discontent are what we are sowing not
The creative roots of harmony and good will burned black by the desert sun all descriptors fail to show
The unique the part that truly was wondrously made no one is looking they are only into the new
Exciting theses very words are the quiet assault that is aimed at them they need restored but they never
Will agree then a nanny kills two little ones in her charge stabs them to death with this insane step into
Yet deeper subterranean darkness the roots of life are growing but they are poisoned throughout it
Reflects on the service the body is racked twisted as a gnarled old tree that can look picture perfect in
Nature but terrible in human life in this state of waste and need of restoration I could hardly see who
Cares at that point the view is most disgusting and in this condition all hope lost the final boat has sailed
With it the last of human dignity goes under the deep black waves when this thought was strongest the
Sea was not my reality only the lifeless desert it was all there was but all of a sudden was it mind tricks a
Mirage I was seeing this beautiful bough filled with blossoms and from there it continued to grow and
Spread out before me all green grasses a profusion of glorious colored flowers of all kinds it started to
Break through the deadness of my mind a time long forgotten slowly started to emerge I couldn’t see
Anyone but I knew that a visitor had joined me tears started like a dam had broken somewhere deep
With in all I knew I was truly loved I had worth and value I could feel it being added anew where I was
An eye sore just moments before now I was a princely person I had this intense sense of whoever it was
Who joined me had known extreme suffering He got me on every level and he was repairing and
Restoring those long festering wounds they just seem to fall off and the greatest peace started to emit
From my inner being there was just a sense of well being that was mountainous and truly rivers of joy
Started to flow out and away my friends step into these words they come from the great restorer your the gift that the thief stole and now you have been reclaimed
Brad Lambert Dec 2013
Such is the sound–
These hearts are a'breakin'.

Snap.

Only I know that crink in my neck–
that sprainin' a'joints grinding 'gainst disks.
I know how the cold creeks do get in October,
sheets and slabs, it's wet in October.
Listen to those frost-ridden reams underfoot!

Snap.

Cold conversing, I said, "A'hush off. . . Now, now. . . smirk'd, yea-sayin' open an ear–"
Listen to that shard, to them shimmerin' sheets of ice underfoot: Snap.
You'd think them finger-snappin's was some jazz! Jam! Jubilate! Just do it again.
I want an iced, ambient encore; chilled to the bone-core, I grab that glarin' a'glistenin' glass.
The median is near the middle, give that shard a shove, I want to hear it again–

Snap.

That's my kick, my wake-me-not whistle borne of creekwater:
That single soundin' o'shatterin' of sharded sheets,
two halves of a once-whole gripped,
glistenin' a glass singin' as it snaps:

I, ice, do hiss!
Listen: it's in the hiss, man!
And my snaps sound ballistic
when I break, balletic, in two!


'Twas a hiss indeed.
that ice does as electricity:

O' it does cry when it cracks,
it does fizzle as it fragments,
it does spark as it splits,
it does bend light between bubbles,
it does melt in my midst,
things do get wet in October.
O' it was by the creek that I told her:

"Such is the sound of two hearts a'breakin'–
'Tis only ice underfoot."
Natasha Ivory Apr 2016
"You were born to do this."
I reminded myself as I sat there feeling encaged in a flurry of endless thought and emotion.
"Why do I have to feel every aspect of every event of life, so deep?"
I thought as I fought myself once again to simply pick up the pen and drain the overflow of despondency onto paper.
"Breathe."
The words, letters, verbs and thoughts continued to swirl in my ever rampantly unsettled abyss of ideation.
Once I surrendered to the raging of the erupting of the soul..there was calm.
It's likened to the deaf..taken away their ability to sign..The dancer with both feet removed.
Had I no other pleasure but to expel grief, fervor and elation and form them into words to heal the shattering so entrenched..they appear unreachable..I'd beg to be buried with just a writing utensil and endless reams of freshly pressed paper.
"Theres Light."*
I mouth that..as I continue to jot as if I were stitching my heart back together with this pen.
Even though I'm within this seemingly grave like cave of aching..I can write.
The beauty is in the creation..The ability to construct, like a carpenter..all that your heart desires with your own two hands..to simply Heal the paragraphs of life that were written badly, write over them or erase and rewrite..if only it were that easy.
I don't aim to undo..I cannot.
Just to poetically fabricate from this point on..allow the stumbles to happen and Love greater than thought fathomable.
Surrender. To the page.
Scribble it out, empty it onto line after line..and crawl atop..until the words fill the fragments and the ink stains your fingertips..Keep climbing upon the proverbial stacks of paper until the towers reach the aperture of the pit.
Creating the mending of affliction, soothing the misery of the choking of words you cannot utter, but you can scratch them onto tablets to deplete the churning of the mind.
Write. Write badly.
Write as if in a mad race to the finish line, then start over again..Until the trails of Letters stretch so long..you could dance upon them for days.
Then Breathe.
Soak every word into your skin as if attempting to heal the afflictions..
then Become it.
Copyright © Natasha Ivory Evans 2016
Writing the Unspeakable
TOD HOWARD HAWKS Apr 2021
The world of money-making businesses uses labels to table discussions of making peace. They would rather make profits of billions and billions. Multinationals dissemble, and much worse. Better to keep a distance from their hearts, the home of hope. It is safer that way, or so it seems. Yet reams teem of holocausts and atrocities, not simple exploitation. At the center of our moral beings is the treasure of love, the single most precious, persuasive substance to transmute pain into compassion, to turn hate into love. So give it a mighty shove, not tomorrow, but today. What say you? Are you willing to love for world peace, to fight with love, not bombs that make tombs? Loving makes endless love. Without a worldwide outpouring of love, Earth, and all living creations upon it, will soon perish. "Perish the thought," you say. I say act now to help create Peace on Earth forever.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Hal Loyd Denton Feb 2013
Restoration

I found myself in a desert the sun beat down relentlessly you see I was just one more fool living on the
Devil’s life plan he comes and sizes you up watches with intensity not of care but hate he doesn’t take
Long he has seen the same thing multiplied many times before he does a little razz and dazzle if you
Could have seen my face you would know how appealing it was oh that’s right you got the same
Treatment you see this desert is where he houses all of his captives it’s so wide and vast the thought is
Who’s trapped but we are like the icy ice berg but with us it’s the conscious like the tip then the
Subconscious is all that mass the true awe and power of being human I want to insert two pieces I wrote
That deals with the subconscious I believe you will benefit from them just one more person’s thoughts
On Such a grand subject
Piercing the Inner Sanctum
The trivial the less important will never even get a start into the bastion of peace and well being that is
Sacred and defended to the last breath the one irresistible caller that is never barred and who is as a
Master key is beauty to no avail can you post guards loveliness has no comparisons like spectacle in any
And all forms it governs and rules all of our hearts once seen the invitation is never with drawn like the
Vistas seen from a high mountain incomparable glory is touched sequestered in depths of appreciation
Moments of grandeur with this spell compression is ultimate the thick richness slowly sinks beyond all
Comprehension it will linger for a life time the blues are the high honor of dress befitting a person of
Rare quality to have and squander cherished gifts the emptiness can never be measured but to make
Contact with the sublime on a desert plane the one invaluable gift of solitude no pretense or frivolity
To cause error or a missed chance to speak and hear wonders undeniable voice that is attended by rare
Essences of tranquility that robes itself in splendor it beckons in pure language simplicity that astounds
Bewilderment of the highest order lodges in your soul the hush of holy beings are noticed if only by the
Assured peace that builds a walled fortress nothing can assail these attainments visited and began
By The unutterable beauty that moves with conscious and deliberate design to bestow upon you
The Perfection that once ruled in Eden

Now deeper the mind seeks to find the way where all rules are absent

Bedazzled Dreamer
Put the long boat in the deep waters of the mind the calm peaceful knowing all is glowing we glide not
Knowing where were going the subconscious will be our guide dividing the two worlds the quiet
Submersible is wild anything may be floating in these depths we have left shore far behind truly
We have entered unchartered waters there is no fixable Bering a lustiness takes over there is no helm
Just a pervading looseness not unsettling but truly uncharacteristic for the coconscious must always
Have a grip a grasp of what is where it is and every detail must be quantified now all senses are blown
A storm is brewing its far reaches unknown but there is softness that excludes fear the overriding
Thought is possibilities can be forged maximized eternalized thoughts are ghost like unknown entities
They were formally known but now remain a mystery dislodged from thought bases that are not solid
All is free association tantalizing in one sense then disconcerting in another what do I do with my mind
Surly it has jumped off the track I could be bewildered if I could get a hold on the situation free flowing
Unspoken but still distinctively saying volumes where is the slow button reams voluminous thoughts
Are spewing into nothingness being lost I can’t keep up the discernible is mixed with eons and theorems
Time and space is void of meaning the world here is elastic mass it convulses at will no parameters exist
The only thing constant is high velocity change being in one place is impossible all is jumbled who stirred
This caldron in my mind voice and pure thought are the same think it know it what burdensome lives we
Live when it is all a tattered sail on rough seas we behold nothing know nothing in the extreme
Romanticism blurts out sail for Trafalgar we are strangers in a plush gifted void try as we will there is
No simple answers but we are a simple people truly the only time were are fit is when we are
Sound Asleep well then sleep on and I will do the same dreaming is therapeutic just think how
Crazy we would be without it

So with that small insight this is more truth I signed my life away to the devil and here is the fun
Part it’s like your hardly comfortable on a computer your on this small frame here he is on a
Worldwide super computer and he is a **** like no other you are slowly crawling along he is
Miles Ahead of you try to strike order in life this answer comes back it has been high jacked its
Not even your thoughts any more it’s completely contrary to all that is decent and ideal but it
Comes as a fog it creates a state of disinformation this is how we find we are bound in half truths
In this state how far from love how desperate is our circumstances what caused and allowed
Us to be left to the dry treacherous land of being forgotten misplaced without remedy to know the dark
Embrace of loneliness we are a people of language it finds us it speaks health to our inward being it is
The gentle soothing the spell that alone provides the structure the melodious times hear the flow of
Refreshing water from hidden springs they bend at just the right place they find us where dark
Broodings Are pulling us into compromise and ruin we feel and taste the surety of joy the call of
Assuredness is known in these depths this internal dismay of mazes infernal are their crushing blows
Does it wash away the meaningful is the face of grace seen to be drowning in walled in terrain to high to
Climb to understanding that enlightening that is our very humanness our ability to connect to share
Never forgetting who and where we came from the integral foundation that builds us as a people was
This first dislodging the first steps of chaos the hardness that drives and separates to quickly we are
Adrift and at the stern is ego without measure and the seeds of discontent are what we are sowing not
The creative roots of harmony and good will burned black by the desert sun all descriptors fail to show
The unique the part that truly was wondrously made no one is looking they are only into the new
Exciting theses very words are the quiet assault that is aimed at them they need restored but they never
Will agree then a nanny kills two little ones in her charge stabs them to death with this insane step into
Yet deeper subterranean darkness the roots of life are growing but they are poisoned throughout it
Reflects on the service the body is racked twisted as a gnarled old tree that can look picture perfect in
Nature but terrible in human life in this state of waste and need of restoration I could hardly see who
Cares at that point the view is most disgusting and in this condition all hope lost the final boat has sailed
With it the last of human dignity goes under the deep black waves when this thought was strongest the
Sea was not my reality only the lifeless desert it was all there was but all of a sudden was it mind tricks a
Mirage I was seeing this beautiful bough filled with blossoms and from there it continued to grow and
Spread out before me all green grasses a profusion of glorious colored flowers of all kinds it started to
Break through the deadness of my mind a time long forgotten slowly started to emerge I couldn’t see
Anyone but I knew that a visitor had joined me tears started like a dam had broken somewhere deep
Within all I knew I was truly loved I had worth and value I could feel it being added anew where I was
An eye sore just moments before now I was a princely person I had this intense sense of whoever it was
Who joined me had known extreme suffering He got me on every level and he was repairing and
Restoring those long festering wounds they just seem to fall off and the greatest peace started to emit
From my inner being there was just a sense of well being that was mountainous and truly rivers of joy
Started to flow out and away my friends step into these words they come from the great restorer your the gift that the thief stole and now you have been reclaimed
I'm sleeping in a calm dream,
Images are spilling out of reams.
Hold me,
Take me,
Throw me out into a castle of beams.
Slay me,
Shank me,
Bury me in a field bursting at the seams.
Hurt me,
Slap me,
Shove me into an ocean that'll no longer gleam.
Bite me,
Slave me,
Drown me in your evil scheme.
Kick me,
**** me,
Make me a part of your supreme regime.
Love me,
Hate me,
**** me with your glass-shattering scream.
Dave Robertson May 2022
Can you fault us for thinking
this blue above is vaulted,
strung in bolts, in reams
of ichor,
of material suggested and believed
instead of stubborn physics?

Stereoscopic vision is great
for seeing the ants walk close
and the rehabilitated bees
on local blooms

It can’t see, properly,
that the azure ceiling is a lie
of just refraction,
that’s always there
as long as our clouds allow
Drifting in the shade
of Hello Poetry's long lost grave
In archive (a kingdom's history)
the past that has been made

Stepping on the bleached out bones
The pale parade of long dead dreams

Crunching fragments of sentenced themes
burning books , poems stuffed inside the reams

Epitaphs to their honor
2010 comments to poets
Vickey , Fix , and O'Connor

Poems to praise lost in time
I hold in hand the words that bind

Great poems whose eyes
were never shed
In a broken aspiration
now lay dead

Cruch , crunch ,
the landscape littered in 2012
Oh what sacred feelings
not forthwith

Here ! lay my poems
to rest here
In 2014 my poems
of yesteryear
James M Vines Nov 2015
All distinction is gone, and we are doomed. No representation exist, it will be over soon. Clones of each party reflects the other. Nothing is  new under the sun. Once a clear distinction existed between two factions, now they both grumble and tell lies. All are awash in money while the unwashed masses starve. No help can be found in the seat of power, the chair is one size to fit the posterior of whoever happens to sit in it at the time. Rhetoric abounds but says little as dysfunctional bureaucrats shuffle endless reams of paper from one box to the next in a pretense of accomplishment that would fool even the wisest of the Greeks. At last the utopia is in sight. All persons have one point of view whether they like it or not. Society is reduced to numbers of the haves and the have not's with the former being less than the latter but of a greater status. Reaping all of the harvest and leaving little for the unwashed masses, as they close ranks in androgynous politics that mirror the same thing.
She was fascinated,
hooked as if a fish out of water.
Whenever death
was splurged across the television
she’d sit upright,
the sofa would creak,
her eyes gorging all
like globs of kitchen roll.
Two per second.
She thought she’d solve them,
bust the case wide open
or some other cliché.
Reams of unresolved stories,
of women splayed
at American roadsides
with a missing molar
or red rings around the wrist.
There had to be an answer, she’d say.
Everything has answers
because everyone asks questions.
A human doesn’t go missing,
someone always sees, apparently.
She’d talk about dying
as if she welcomed it,
as if it was a real person
with bones and a voice.
One day she sliced her finger
and just let it bleed,
the thin line then the bloom
of crimson that wept
into the sink.
Two per second she’d remind me.
I scrambled in the drawer
for a plaster.
Written: April 2017.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time, about a woman fascinated with unsolved murders and death in general. 'Jane Doe' is a term used primarily in the USA and Canada for a corpse whose identity is unknown. 'John Doe' is sometimes used for males. 'Two per second' refers to how every second, an estimated two individuals pass away. Feedback welcome. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found on my HP home page.
NOTE: Many of my older pieces will be removed from HP at some point in the future.

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