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Charles Barnett Nov 2012
Your voice is electricity
that shoots through my ears
and down my veins like
Frankenstein's Monster.
Reanimating the dead
cells and tissue with
surgical precision.
Arcing across my back
and shoulders singeing
hair follicles and chattering
decrepit teeth in my mouth
like dice in a cup.

Your voice is electricity
and it's clinging to my chest
like a defibrillator, sending
shockwave after shockwave
through my heart and soul.
Michael Hoffman Sep 2012
My mind was pulsing
with endless subtly shaded descriptors
and shockwave verbs,
when a pop-up alert flashed
red and yellow and blue…

YOU HAVE ONLY 9 WORDS LEFT !
ACT NOW !!!

YOUR LIFETIME ALLOTMENT IS 20,000,000,010 WRITTEN WORDS,
AND.........YOU HAVE USED 20,000,000,001.

ACT NOW OR LOSE YOUR RIGHT TO WRITE FOREVER!

BUT WAIT !!!!!!
  
COMPLETE THE SIMPLE FORM BELOW IN THE NEXT 60 SECONDS
AND WE’LL DOUBLE YOU TO 40 BILLION MORE.
IMAGINE ALL THE SHIMMERING ADJECTIVES, THICK NOUNS,
CLEVER ADVERBS AND PITHY PRONOUNS YOU WILL HAVE!!!!!!!!!

Panicking, I clicked on the form
and furiously typed …

William Shakespeare
10 Henley Street Village South
Statford Upon . . . . . .
He watched as she fell
He watched as he did what he had to
He watched as she hit the ground
He listened
There was no sound

He watched as their world split
He cringed at the spectacle
Unfolding before his eyes
He listened
There were no cries

He felt the shockwave
As her reality exploded
He marveled at the colors the wound
He listened
And then it boomed

Violent
                             Force
     Wreckage  
                                                   Shrapnel
            Fallout
                             Screams
Weeping
                                          Unrestrained
  ­                    Anguish
   Betrayal
                                    Hatred

But hold on child
This is not the end
This is just a pothole
On the Warpath of Love
So look to the Bittersweet Bystander
His hand extended now
Take the help he offers
You need it to continue
Even in the worst disaster, there's someone. You might have to look hard, but the Bittersweet Bystander is there
Mose Oct 2020
Greif is the shockwave that happens after profound loss.
The tragedy of our story is the ruins we are left to sweep the streets of.
Cobble stone collecting the dust of our previous lives.
These are not the days that lay heavy on our hearts.
It’s the days when the whole city has rebuilt itself.
The street lay paved of memory lanes.
Every stone in the mind still unturned.
The guilt that builds...


You want to feel as the world does.
Look as the city does.
Forget as the people do.
Frexin LekseyAV Feb 2017
Well there's a hole smashed in the side of my ship,
I'm sinking fast, merely a snip away,
Crumbling faster than I can glue,
I'm drowning in the thousand glass shards,
Each one cutting, deeper deeper,
I just need to get away,
To get away from it all,
Shockwave spreading breaking shredding,
Didn't see it did you now?
Buildings crumbling,
I'm left fumbling,
In the wake of life.
It's okay, I understand the pain.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2020
cheap write *******:

i almost wish i was bitter - but as i'm ageing -
it's not so much bitterness - a woman in her 60s
will say about her son:
well he's sorted his life out,
he's in his early 30s, has a job,
a wife, two children...

this man... has "sorted" his "life"...
more like when darwinism meets
existentialism -
hardly a sorted life -
a sorted life by ape standards -
not keikegaard's standards: if any...

it's not about bitterness -
but i would be more inclined to say:
early 30s, wife, kids... mortgage...
the rollercoaster is just about to start...
the kids: oh sure... cute...
until they start having a mind
of their own...
and... they will betray the senile
old fool that will come,
eventually...
and off to broadmoor with 'im!
life sorted... when the children could
almost be treated as pets...
fine! fine...

it's not out of bitterness -
i'm thinking... more on the lines:
i'm getting my years tally too...
i'm getting used to my own "solipsistic" routines...
it's not out of bitterness:
it's out of having my own routines:
my own idiosyncracies -
that i will take two ciders for a walk
(perhaps a dog would be better) -
and my shadow -
and take two home and drink them
with a tease of brandy -
and want to get to that sweet k.o. point
come 12am so i can,
wake up: frisky and fresh like a sparrow
full of song come 8am...
well... that's me...

i can imagine how symbiosis happens when
you shackle up with someone
in your early 20s...
forget doing it in your 30s...
my ship / my train has sailed... a long time ago...
i still can't find anyone i could
speak to about philosophy -
and to be frank? i hope i never will -
not now - when i wanted to talk about it:
no one -
now it doesn't matter -
because i don't want to talk about it...
i might slide in a sly ref. to something -
but... the aspirations for conversation
on these matters are... i would just tell someone
to buy a self-help book and kindly *******...

if women: hit the wall...
i've reached my impasse -
i have dug the trench long enough - deep enough -
i can proudly say it's a labyrinth -
and i'm happy in my labyrinth -
it's not much: but it's not a cage -
and this is not some bitter me:
woe me - blah blah -
i have routines - i like to sit an extra 10
minutes on the toilet - becauase -
i'm automating a massage of my prostate...
apparently... bid on this poker being true:
the fear of over-doing it and...
haemorrhoids... the same fear associated with
sitting on cold stones for too long
(ref. lethal weapon II - sam and martin riggs
sitting at the beach)...

but this is not what i was intending to write...
i've been trying to cut down on watching youtube...
i figured... what i should have been doing
was watching an english soap-opera -
akin to eastenders - religiously -
instead - i would have, at least: plenty more ref.
points...
but as for jokes... i make the odd "mistake"...

it's always like watching a paul joseph watson video...
i'm not a fan but i'm a fan of entertainment -
i must have a really low i.q. because
i find lee evans to be a rare genius of comedy...
old school funny - the body can become
a language for comedy -
you really don't need to over-talk the jokes -
after a while intelligent stand-up monologues just
bore me: humor of the monolingual crowd -
anagrams and... too many ciphers -
nothing wrong with your base crude of:
a ****** expression, the body itself -
the language can take a break -
but i must be really stupid for liking...
universal comedy... for me lee evans is a universal
comedian...

but this one video is likewise...
blackpill jesus - the inequality of the dating market:
it's over for many men...

and i'm like: those pro-life arguments are
just starting to kick in...
no... seriously... those pro-life arguments are
starting to kick in: right about now...
what arguments?
sometime in the distant future
an untouchable ** will come into contact
with an untouchable XY example -
long may they prosper -

but all of this is like... watching delayed...
abortions... walking abortions -
by: when darwinism met feminism:
and the two -isms lived happily ever after...
some people... really don't want to be told
they'll be walking abortions:
well: quasi-abortions... the living-dead:
by all standards of darwinian selection -
again... not bitter... routine baron -
but not in a culture:
we could talk about stendhal -
but we won't...
we could talk about bukowski: of all people!
but we won't...
we could talk kabbalah and gnosticism
and the nag hammadi library...
but we won't...
we could talk about music!
but we won't...
first sucker through the floral gates
of the ******: **** first in... head last out...
but at lucifer dived head-first from
a star...
by comparative images:
caesars were born via the caesarean section...
the rest of us...
let's just say: there's no more ***** envy
after a human head starts to:
appear from a place it never should have...

my 20s are a fog...
i might remember 4 odd *****...
one picked up from a club who decided to
take a taxi with me towing but
forgot she was riding with me
and did her usual: jump from a moving car
and not paying the fare...
which i later paid...
cocoon *** under the bedsheets and:
coffee in the morning with three homosexuals...

that south african: again cocoon *** under
the bedsheets - second time lucky for her...
but... is it technically "****"...
when she wants to ******* but is somehow
not aroused and she hasn't spoken to
any ******* about using some cream
and you little richard in that sort of purse...
sandpaper friction?

the black girl at my birthday party...
the right sort of cocktails...
the right sort of music: cedric 'im' brooks...
and then... proper coccyx ramming
that left me with a plum hue tattoo
in the eden of my ***** the next morning...
finally! a black girl with an *** that allowed
her to ram her coccyx into me...

i'll miss some... other... details from elsewhere...

but of course that thai surprise...
picked her in the park...
random as any lottery jackpot...
beers on the bench... more beers at the house...
some jazz... cigarettes in the garden...
later ****** in the shed...
walked the thai surprise home...
why thai surprise?
i wasn't sure... sports bra -
transgender "issues" were only starting
to come to the fore... "4 out of 10"...
tom boy haircut...
until the hand reached into the underwear
and i found oyster...
but prior to: thai surprise...

those ***** were free...
the brothel ***** are more vivid and... well...
there was always some kissing involved...
for some reason i can remember kissing prostitutes
more than ******* them...
with the "free women of the west":
it's more about... the sort of *** that is comparible
to... when foxes in essex come and mate at
night... you forget whether you kissed...
but oh sure... ******* sure did...

it's not sad it's... visceral...
work with enough raw meat in the kitchen -
curing it - slicing it -
rubbing it with marinade -
after a while you're no longer objectifying
anything: you're being subjected to it...

but i do wonder with regards to:
some people would like to know they're walking
abortions - the abortions pandering to the pro-life
argument... otherwise the pro-life argument is
a bit like: shackling - a safety-net guarantee -
or whatever: because what's the argument when...
there's the coming dissonance
of pairing?

perhaps i haven't said this more often than
i should...
of the books i've read... mostly french and german
and scandinavian existentialism -
with a tease of russian...
darwinism and existentialism can't sleep together...
that's what i originally thought...
how can existentialism reconcile itself
with darwinism: when it can't...
darwinism is existentialism for women...
the quantity: not the quality argument / line of reasoning...

i can't reconcile myself with darwinism -
a weakness or just:
there's just too much borrowed from a plethora
of animals -
so many studies concerning apes
and **** similis -
and even the mantis -
but... the noble swan and the phenomenon
of the widow and the widower swan...

days when you could just listen to
bloodhound gang's hooray for ******* and...
also find falco... you almost desire
to walk away from the sandpit where
the children listen to nothing but
philip glass and penderecki and speak
in sudoku language...
otherwise there's missing the middle ground
and reaching for the ***** and *****
of punk and... the scent of burning leather
wrapped in a ****** of stiched together
foreskins...

and i can't imagine... but i can...
cutting someone's eyelids...
and watching them... endure the subsequent
insomnia while having to plunge their
head into water ever 10 minutes...
******* is no help...
ear: eh... cartilege -
but the eyelids... we could be rid of those:
couldn't we?

because i know the potential sleeping in me...
i decided to arrive face first and meet "him"...
just so i don't miss the jinx:
i grab my ******* with one forcep of index
and thumb of the hand...
with the other forcep i pinch
the eyelid of my left eye -
funny... the skin feels... synonymous!

no, i can't reconcile darwinism with continental
existentialism:
as i can't reconcile the former idealism
of mine - not even after a ******* -
where's jack?! where's the jack in me?
but gym and squash and rock climbing later:
i was dating a crab and scraps were
the vulture's ambrosia -

what became of aphex twin? he slowed down
and that cul de sac became...
something known as burial - album untrue...
darwinism was always going to be impossible
to reconcile with: the role of humanity
beyond - it's almost easy to transcend the pure
animalistic comparison -
there's neither fire, nor the second fire:
electricirty in the nocturnal, feral heart of
the bottomless pit of anima -
currently: curated by over-stretched facts
and sleepwalking statistics...

bound to england for the past 26 years...
the closest i came was an: encounters of the third
kind with an australian oddity...
why would i date an english girl?
i thought they were into their pakistanis?
that's a question that's not a joke...
seek and you will find: mongolian-esque
rummaging...
the tartar "heretic" of crimea...

on repeat on repeat...
climbing over a fence from a darkened park...
came across a 15 year old running to and fro...
in the days when i still owned a phone...
tried to teach her how to roll a cigarette...
cleavage more visible than her neck...
reunited her with disgruntled friend
lying face down at a bus stop...
a black cat befriended me...
and this lass was running away from me
and toward me...
she texted about 20 people with my phone
before contacting her mum and dad...
and her cabbie dad later picked the two
of them up from a bus-stop at the tesco metro...
but of course prior to she had to take
a selfie of the three of us...

in the back of my head... the silent whisper
and the prosecutor simply whispered...
why not ask her to climb over the park fence
with you... and do the nightmarish deeds justice?

in england for the past 26 years: genesis aged 8...
and, well... "no luck"...
mongol attitude no likey-likey-lucky-or-lackey...
reciprocating "hubris"...
i guess i must be lucky...
come and go ******* like a nomad...
and: should i take myself more seriously...
invoke a talk about diacritical marks:
and those non-existent in the english language...
an octopus audience: the tenticles
do not count as 8 x 1...

20s... a complete blur...
and those vivid conversations in the brothel...
when i faked a death and managed to
get my overdraft limit increased...
and spent 4 hours in that ****-warehouse...
and was asked in the "interlude"...
wouldn't you want two at the same time?
i once heard:
the world is divided into men who have
slept with two women...
and those who haven't...

i gladly declined...
with two i'd need a room of mirrors...
hungry leech eyes need mirrors...
one simply can't have the 1st person shooter
experience anymore...
one would require as many mirrors when
*******... as a woman would require toys
to ******* with...
it might as well be called:
the mirror deity that spawned narcissus -
although - the more contorted
nightmare of narcissus -
the faces riddled with onomatopoeias
rather than words -
and faces that truly deserve to hide behind
a niqab...
or if the eyes become too fungus esque...
would require the samuel beckett's not i...
mouth like an intrusive phallus metaphor
of exposure...

in the past decade: well thank god
*** never became boring, routine...
it didn't require dressing up,
using third party limbs... and pieces...
*** was scarce - therefore *** was feral -
*** was never allowed a relationship -
*** never became familiar,
*** could never become mundane words
that would allow themselves
advice from some journo agony aunt column...
*** was a rarity -
and when it wasn't... kissing became more
important... and itchy fingers that
would read in braille the earth and its contorts
of a woman's body...
there was never a whip or a gulag
of infantile barbie imaginings to rule, either...

sometimes i would indefinitely try to catch
the certain days of winter when
spring blossoms prematured with buds...
if i was lucky... the magnolia bushes would also
blush...
and i would become a dog-***** of these perfumes...
walking for miles and miles per night...

the body takes care of itself:
trouble is... the mind doesn't...
better to allow it this sort of cameo cinema -
memory is the most ideal cameo cinema -
nothing i have mentioned is par excellance -
more... on par: per view...
if memory can't become a cinema...
what's left? nostalgia of 20th century cinema?
that can only live for so long...

as a "transgender" moment...
perhaps i can compete...
willingly ingest a tapeworm embryo...
keep it for 9 months...
then... ingest some praziquantel and ****
the little ****** out...
that's... the closest i'll ever come
to uniting myself with: the female ordeal
of giving birth: imagine...
the ego coupled the delusion the size
of the universe...
i really should start looking for a tapeworm
embryo... keeping it for 9 months...
and then... hey presto!
extra-protein pasta!

otherwise: oh sure... the would-be abortions...
only learn much later...
that they are... not the pro-life argument
they heard as embryos of foetuses...
they are... much to their amusement...
the walking-abortions they were to begin with...
while the pro-life arguments sort of...
die off... when... the fully grown...
self-aware specimen is given charge...
the pro-life argument dies...
the mortgage on a engagement ring...
the shackles...
it's only a pro-life argument...
until the incel mushroom pops up...
then it's no longer a pro-life argument...
ha... delayed abortion: slackers' argumentation...
yeah but no but, oh ****...

frankenstein! it talks! it breathes!
it's immune to all those philosophical cul de sacs
of arguments!
the slow death - the lack of gene motivation
tactic to: pass...
ha... to pass...
in the vicinity of the courageous virus...
shockwave reminders of: genesis vivo...

give me the fully formed xenomorph...
but a genesis vivo: akin to the film LIFE?
wouldn't you believe it?
form... a xenomorph has a concrete form -
a rigid square is...
well... it's not an imploded square -
a hyper-geometric revision...

modern anglo-speaking world and...
milan kundera's existentialism:
i will only kiss when i close my eyes -
but nonetheless -
i will open my eyes when kissing...
because i'm bluffing...
and gambling on... the hope that...
even the sofa "architecture" of a woman's
body reclining to entertain the 300 spartans...
eyes always open...
daggers for eyes...

upon the zenith close -
i imagined myself to be more...
buck-tooth antics -
trivia and encyclopedic knowledge -
pub quizes -
*** on wisteria lane -
no mongol horde ever passed the clefts
of pickets and homebugs...
and this... grand sanity project...
people never seem to go, truly mad,
from... gossip.... glibs...
or soap-opera immoralities: of flacid oopses...
perhaps it is true:
most people never go mad...
what horrible lives they must lead...

perhaps that is very true:
so true it deserves the bells of nortre dame
to echo...
inside a can kicked down a street...
kissing a ******* is not a basic immorality...
having toy soldiers and wars of lies -
and soap opera demagogic dramaturges?
wasting other peoples time with:
there's no crease in a sunrise -
when there are no clouds to stage the subtle
detail of diluted hues of seeing:
a giraffe's belly when it's lying on
the ground?

some people never go mad...
and they do require language to be as strict as:
what's precursor formal -
dear sir / madam...
and every time they try an informal: oops...
it's never on paper...
but always in a mouth that's exploring
the fermentation process of a glass of wine...
me?
gods' **** and gods' blood...
cider / beer with a tease mrs. cognac:
that's the elevated status of whiskey via: née:
ms. amber.

could i be a father and an alcoholic?
no... ever time i tried to exfoliate my own language,
my... idiosyncracy, my solipsism,
barriers and people reaching for...
prime navel and crimson as the standard
colour for lipstick...
one can only stomach so much...
before treating oneself to a hermit's adventure...
on the odd chance... giving coordinates
of the day-to-day...

i would have died a decade prior...
if i didn't find voyeurs to look at a language...
that cannot be spoken by someone alive:
among the living... to the future dead!
i was alive once, too! to the future dead!
KT Sep 2019
Love, such a big word
Creeping for years around
With presumptions of its meaning
Floating around
With emotions far from disjoint
In a flurry
Through your body, mind
Momentarily present
Yet timelessly thrown
Into your toddler meaning of love
From your empty Bayesian trap
That builds you whole
Until your end you've met

So many different versions
Certainty will never be met
Yet trapped in a single word
It doesn't do it justice
But that just might be alright
For love
Is not meant to be spoken

You start out in a fairy
Unscathed from reality
Especially
After a mother's love
You think the world is kind
Without a mother's love
It's cold but you still have hope

You throw your youth outside
Into the gust of eyes
Where you catch a glimpse
Of a girl or a guy
That makes your blood boil
And you're still flying
Throw all your *****
Without thinking of dying
And no matter if it lasts a moment
A reciprocated month
Or an unrequited year
You come out shattered
Reality didn't care
Nothing after mattered

But there you didn't know
That that guy or girl
Is a girl or guy too
You're not the only one
There's everyone else too
Your initial lust
Or a try at a shell of love
Is selfish at base
How ever much
Your emotions
Pointed else

But that did pass
And the several next throws too
Whether months or years
Summer or winter or summer
A cloud followed you there
The cloud carrying
Your void of attention
However big or small
Your loneliness sharp
Whether seconds long or
Weeks on end, quiet yet loud
Your need to be loved,
Recognized, understood,
To be acknowledged present
To be accepted, alive
By a person
Rattling your lust

However above,
In the cloud where you placed
Every next spike of passion
Of a guy or a girl
As bright as the sun,
For the moment
Their face on the idol shone bright
Following your daily life around
And with every next crack
Of reality's peckered constant tap
Your idol cracks
It falls down
Thunders,
Your heart it smacks
The sunshine is over
Your cloud is empty again
The idol faceless remains,
Yet follows you still

Time on end,
Time,
Time, it goes blank
Faceless the oddity remains
Your concept of love
From solid, to liquid, to the cloud
It migrates - shapeless, formless,
Horrid, repulsive, addictive, banished
Away
But hey
But hey!
There
Another glimpse
Lights your fire
Puts on a face
Energizes into matter
The shapeless concept, of love
Quicker than an arrow
Throws down its mollusc, fiery and sparkly
Tentacles, now into form
Grabbing your whole body
Obsesses, possesses
Choking your insides
Paralyzing you whole
"Oh hey
Hi
It's you
I liked a thing you did
How you look
A thing you said
You formed into my eyes
And now you're in my head
And oh
That thing you did, how you look, what you said
Repeats every day for you
Wow
I want that"
Paralyzed there you stand
Seconds you shared turn into hours
Time stretches
Your mediocrity devours
But wait a second
This world of yours ain't the realm we live in
That person is its own
With all the background it comes with
As heavy as your own
Much richer than your conception current
And not richer than the sunshine you imagine
But in reality that person weighs
However uglier the truth it makes
However much real hurt
To your table brings
An amalgam of truth and desire
You idol feeds

You go home
Maybe you create
Something out there
Portraying
As a proof of your time
Spent in that oily chokehold
No matter if you get close to that person
Or not
No matter how much time is spent
How much sunshine you think you got
You'll learn your idol
He or she, is not
Your concept of love
Still selfish
Putrid

But maybe
Just maybe
A random person walks in
A friend
Of mutual ****** preference
Of course
Someone you'd not write poems about
Someone you'd not draw in your thoughts
Someone your lust smolders at best at first
Someone that sticks by your side
Someone your idol accepts not
While there your idol
Faceless or not
Slowly fades away
Your voids are filled
By giving
And having being given in return
Equally self-less
Your base is solid now
Out of the dead molusc
Your meaning of love,
Bam!
With the speed of a supernova
With the frequency of a pulsar
With the density of a white dwarf
Blasts into you like a shockwave
Lights into you like a furnace
Is finally thrown into your Bayesian experiment
A meaningful, concrete test case
That you can rethrow however much again
And even if you reach its last throw
You've learned to self-lessly accept
Whatever comes next
For it's grown on you
And it'll never leave your side, till your end
And your model now knows
Where true warmth lies
Even if the coming days
Shiver in the void's cold grasp
Remember
Remember the light

For it has once grown on you
In its countless shapes and forms
Real, true love

Let's hope
For nothing does truly last
I’ll not take your time, beyond what the need,
To relate to you a story and deed
As there’s no one else to plea this decree …
For just I survived, don’t you see.

I’m an old man, with a mind full of mist
But details of that night in my mind still exist
As vivid and clear, both sharp and exact
No, no mist there – all of it’s fact!

When I was young, and adventure routine,
With excitement and newness still unforeseen
I was eager to spread my wings to the world
And seek more adventures as those wings unfurled

Within my long travels I happened to meet
Two other men, with friendships replete
One was named Beckett, the other one Flynn
And better friends there never have been.

Beckett was tall – an athletic type
While Flynn, the scholar, more of pinstripe
Pinstripe or athlete – it mattered not
It was our essence together and that which it wrought.

Engaged were we in all daring do
High on the mountains, and under seas, too,
We crossed dry deserts, and jungles of green
And other adventures there in between.

We’d been together, t’was our sixth year,
And still our adventures made us cohere
To every madness – to every rave …
Until we decided to enter The Cave.

We discussed the encounter and planning for weeks
And assembled equipment – some new, some antiques
Until at last the day it arrived …
And our excitement?  It still there survived.

The map we used, was bought from a guide
Who told my friend, Flynn: “Don’t go inside”
When he had learned of our journey’s intent:
To enter The Cave, and begin our descent.

The guides’ words, had given us pause
We had thought: What was his reason or cause?
But … dismissed were his words of advice
We had each other … and that would suffice.

With ropes and lantern-hats and other such gear
It was into The Cave we then disappeared.
The light from our lanterns speared into the dark
We spoke very little - made no remark.

Onward, downward, in blackness we went
Placing out markers for our later ascent
The sounds of our footsteps, and scraping of walls
Reverberated ‘round us – as echoed recalls

In about six hours, or maybe ‘twas more
We encountered water upon The Cave floor
And there all around were beautiful shapes
Never were seen such gorgeous landscapes

Stalactites, stalagmites and mineral mounds
And dripping water with its’ “plopping” sounds
Pinks, violets and shades of green hues
And small salamanders made their debuts

We found a small dry spot and then we assessed
This was a place we could stop now to rest.
I turned up my lantern, and took off my hat,
When Beckett said: “Hey.  Did you just hear that?”

I moved not a muscle, and my ears went to strain.
All I could hear were the droplets, like rain.
Then from The Cave’s bowels came a loud din
I continued to listen – then heard it again.

We looked at each other, but said not a word
Confused and startled by what we’d just heard
It wasn’t a moan, it wasn’t a gasp
But more rather like a guttural rasp

One thing was certain, it wasn’t of stone
That could create sounds while standing alone
T’was our discussion, from which to derive:
The source of the sound was something … alive.

Then from The Cave’s deepened black hole
Came again sounds from a source with no soul
The sound was menacing, and one I despise,
I watched the fear grow within my friends’ eyes.

Instinctively, we three then moved as one
In that instant – our re-ascent had begun
I had been last in the line coming down
Now I’d be the first to reach the “above-ground”.

Quickly my feet in the lead, lead the way
Flynn, right behind had nothing to say
My friend Beckett, brought up the rear
And in that position had the greatest to fear

The lamp on my hat pierced through the black
And I looked for our markers to lead us back
To save our strength, nothing was said
Again - the loud sound that filled me with dread.

The sound became louder and closer it be
And I moved faster through the black before me
I could hear Flynn’s breathing, so close behind
I tried to concentrate on the markers to find

Somewhere behind me, then snarls I heard
Loud and vicious, run together and blurred
Close … so close … the beast was so near
Adrenalin rushed through me to react to my fear

T’was then I was hit with an overpowering stench
The smell caused my stomach to turn and to wrench
The odor blew past me, and I knew t’was the breath
Of the Beast of The Cave – its’ oder of death.

I was near running, but down on all fours
Sweat was streaming from all of my pores.
Then I heard those terrible screams
The ones I keep hearing in all of my dreams

It was Beckett I knew in his shocked agony
Midst the snarled snapping of jaws I can’t see
I heard bones cracking and squishing of flesh
And the fear within me gave new strength afresh

My fingers were raw from grabbing the rock
But on moving forward my mind had its’ lock
My stomach still queasy from the stench of the beast
I knew it was finishing its’ beastly feast

I knew, too, t’was only a matter of time
When the beast would return - I had to climb!
I heard Flynn say: “IT’S COMING AGAIN!”
Again was a surge of my fear deep within.

I heard once more the beast from behind
And fought the panic taking over my mind
Something heavy struck against The Cave’s walls
The kind of sounds that ghastly appalls:

A scraping of talons of heavy clawed feet
Caused my heart to double its’ beat
I had the feeling that Flynn lagged behind
I screamed my urgings loud and maligned:

“Flynn!  Flynn!  Catch up to me!”
But took not the time to look back and see
For the beasts’ crashing against The Cave’s face
Told me it neared – and was re-gaining the race

My knee hit a rock, and my balance was lost!
I fell to the ground, and then feared the cost
In losing the time in scrambling free
Again sheer panic stabbed into me.

In less than an instant, Flynn was there too,
His face in my light was of a strange hue
And as he helped me get back to my feet …
Flynn turned around – t’was The Beast there to meet.

The stench overwhelming, but the sight was much worse
There standing before us: The beastly curse
Of overlapping scales in shades of dark gray
The rest of its’ body concealed in umbrae

But its’ eyes … its’ eyes … I’ll never forget
Rheumatoid yellow, and deeply inset
Its’ reptilian lids blinked just one time
‘Fore its’ lips peeled back - revealing the slime

Glistening yellow over dagger-like teeth
Then oozed from its’ mouth to fall there beneath.
The beast reared up, then we saw its’ claws
Sharp and deadly within its’ forepaws

Towering above us, no sound the beast made
On beams of our light had his gaze stayed.
Unexpectedly Flynn then turned and faced me
… With less blinding light, the beast could again see

Why Flynn had turned I never will know
For the beast bit him in two, at his torso
And I was looking at Flynn – direct in his face
When the beasts’ bite his life did erase.

I screamed, and instantly away did I run
Away from the beast, and dead companion
Through the price of Flynn’s life, more time had been bought
To reach The Cave’s entrance – the goal that I sought

Running wildly, several times did I fall
Toppling did not my mission forestall
The beast I knew still somewhere behind
Drove me on forward with my frantic mind

I heard its’ clawed talons scraping the wall
And prayed I’d not again stumble and fall
Then, up ahead, a small opening I viewed
And I saw my chance, with hope there exude

Twelve feet … six feet … then it was three
But the beast and its’ stench was there behind me
I dove through the rock opening, scraping my head
But better that injury than ending up dead

I was elated, and about to rejoice
I then heard a scream – it was my own voice!
In my leg erupted intense blinding pain
Looking down I saw the bloodstain

My leg, through the opening, still was stuck out
There was but split-seconds, before I’d lose it no doubt
I pulled my leg back, and in but a flash
My shoe was removed by a clawed talon slash

I crawled back from the opening, then I could see
My wound was deep, from ankle to knee
Then suddenly through the opening came
A clawed talon whose aim was to maim

I quickly withdrew out of its’ reach
As claws shot through the openings’ breech
The opening too small, for continued rampage
And the beast began then to voice its’ outrage

It’s deafening roars assaulted my ears
Echoed Cave chambers and in my mind did adhere
I began attending unto my grave wound
Knowing I now was no longer marooned.

T’was another hour ‘fore I crawled out The Cave
But many days ‘fore I’d shed the shockwave
Of what had transpired, and what I had seen
And my damaged leg was lost to gangrene.

Now sleep evades me, for my horrible dreams
Show beams of light, and unearthly screams
Of Beckett and Flynn and The Cave we were in
I know tonight, I’ll re-live it again.

So, now you’ve the story, you’ve heard the deed
I swear is the truth I’ve herein decreed
And Beckett and Flynn are enslaved in their grave
And I lost my leg to the Beast of The Cave.
Paige Miller Apr 2013
It’s a free country, whose prices are skyrocketing,
skyrocketing with the number of secrets.
Pick up pamphlets proclaiming promises,
but look how the fine print demands your liberty.
Everything is written in the same language,
the exchange rate for a few dollars.

Pieces of paper riddled with numbers, dollars
burn through pockets, leaving scars with pain skyrocketing.
The poor and huddled masses all speak the language,
exchanging on the black market fragments of skeleton secrets.
Torch in one hand, book in the other, let’s ask Lady Liberty
why the cobblestone was pressed with broken promises.

Collect the torn shreds of scattered paper promises,
recycle, dye, reprint, now you have dollars.
Hear the cracks ring through the bell of liberty,
sending a sound shockwave skyrocketing,
blowing the dust off old, forgotten boxes stuffed with secrets,
lies that became incorporated. We all cry in the same language.

A father speaks to his daughter in the language
of soccer games and zoo trips. Shattered promises,
fill the gaps between their hearts, fueled by secrets.
Problems he tries to fix by handing her a few dollars.
His excuses keep coming and her frustration is skyrocketing.
She desires greener pastures, to run away with liberty.

In Korean it’s jayu. In Russian it’s svoboda. Liberty
translates to the same message in every language.
Liberté, the distance between oceans is skyrocketing
as worn hands struggle holding glass promises.
La libertad! Paper sons are born spending hard earned dollars,
confusing pesos with dollars, their lies with their secrets.

The walls are willing to whisper your secrets,
silence can be exchanged for handfuls of liberty.
A binding contract, you’ll get paid with dollars.
The ultimate truth: it’s the universal language.
Homes are built on a foundation of hollow promises,
with no door to escape, and the scaffolding is skyrocketing.

Freiheit! Voices skyrocket into one language,
tearing holes in liberty where promises lied,
it all costs something. Dollars buy secrets. Dollars hide secrets.
Random mortar shells in the afternoon.
Sparkling, steel jacketed rain drops,
Glinting rainbows of reflected sunlight.
Plastic explosive seat cushions upon which passers-by,
Rest their weary bones.
C-4 candy bars, nuclear toothpaste,
****** for dessert.
Orphanage flambe', hospital hash, blood pudding.
Human burgers sizzling on a smart bomb bar-b-que grill.
Finger food, toe jam, baby-back ribs.

Bureaucratic double talkers,
Sugar coated body counts,
Colateral stew.
Really deplorable, awfully sorry,
But it was their own faults trying to put on raincoats.
They declined our invitation to the cook-out.
Bad luck to open an umbrella in the house.

Remotely piloted funeral processions.
Radar guided hearses.
Televised in real time.
Precision, surgical,
neutralized, deterrent, disarmed,
Deactivated, stand down, eliminate.

Living pawns on a battlefield checkerboard.
Strategic, defensive,
Dominate, annihilate,
Acceptable loss, public opinion pole.

Listen to the tinkling of sabre blades,
Rattling windchimes,
In the warm breeze of the shockwave,
Accompanied by the drumbeat of detonation and concussion.
Rock...
        ...and heads will roll.

Holy, blessed,
Patriotic, brave,
Courageous, dedicated,
Heroic, dutiful,
Self sacrificing...
                         ...******.
matt nobrains Aug 2011
i'm staring at the computer like i
usually do,
not doing anything to it
just sitting there.
staring at it.
depressed
more that depressed, i'm anxious
and nauseous.
i haven't eaten anything in three or
four days
i haven't slept more than two hours a night
for a whole week
i go to work, my job as a sign holder,
and i read a book
or stare off into space
trying to fight my thoughts, attempting
to remain with my mind in a void.
when i'm not at work
i drink water
and i stare at my computer screen.
well, these staring contests can last hours
hours and hours, all day if i'm lucky.
without a thought.
thoughts destroy,
thoughts are evil.
i do not like thinking.
i don't like thinking because i ******
everything up recently,
i won't bore you with the details,
but i can't shake the feeling that i found
a hole in time-space
i slipped through that hole into another
universe
in which my life is ****
in which my friends don't talk to me
in which going to work is the only time
when i can have peace from myself.
it's all completely backwards.
it's a weird universe, though not
that weird.
everything else is normal.
the only
difference
is my unhappiness. but that's a big
difference.
i'm not all too sure how i got here. one
minute i'm drunk
the next minute i'm in this other
dimension. (i've got this
theory that the small
change
is because the universes were so close to
each other,
so physically close (as far as d.d. is
concerned) in fact
that they pushed into each other for a
split second,
imagine a vinn diagram,
and after that small point on the cube that
is our universe,
they intersected and were exactly the same
but just for an instant,
and when these coiled arms of the 11th
dimension moved apart,
i was pulled back into the wrong dimension.
the other matt from this dimension (the one
i'm currently in,
where my life is ****)
got extradited back into the one
I'M originally from
(the one where my life is awesome)
i don't know.
maybe he wished for that to happen.
he wished 'my life ***** so bad, why
can't i trade places with a me from
a d.d.?
and he got his wish,
the ******* *******.)
it's like a dream, lemme tell you, a
nightmare actually.
y'know how in dreams you have this constant
feeling that
nothing is quite right,
but you push that away and
continue with your business?
it's this tiny inkling that "hmm, could
this be a dream?"
but you ignore it and continue catching
those ducks,
trying to catch those ducks,
you don't know why why these ducks are so
important,
but you've gotta get 'em
and you've gotta put 'em in a basket
problem is they keep hopping out of the
basket
and running away,
SO YOU GOTTA KEEP CATCHING 'EM ****.
anyway,
this dream is kind of like that
but actually its a lot different.
in this dream
i'm living a life that *****
i don't know how i got here
and i've got this dread that follows me
that when i get the chance, i'm not going
to be able to stop myself,
i'm just going to die.
it follows me everywhere,
and i know that as soon
as i let my guard
down
i'm gonna jump in front
of a car while at work.
i'm gonna down both bottles of my pills.
i'm gonna take that knife while
i'm making guacamole
and slash my wrists
and run out into the night
and leap into that creek
and i'm going to **** in water
until i drown
bleeding
there in the creek.
that's not all.
i keep losing time.
i'm falling through the
th dimension at an alarming rate,
this has of course been happening
for a long time,
not just after i slipped through
into another universe.
this has been happening my whole life.
one minute i'm doing something
the next minute i'm doing something else
but i get the sense of the time in between
but i don't know what happened for sure.
the jumps started out huge
and continued shrinking,
like some sort of reverse big-bang
is carrying me along,
i've got whole weeks and months
that i don't remember,
whole years in fact,
that seemed to speed by or have sped by.
time jumps, i don't remember
those times, but i know they happened,
and i've got a sense of it,
but i don't know for sure.
anyway, the jumps have shrunk down.
but now they're more obvious,
now that they're smaller.
so i'll be sitting here staring
at the computer
as usual
and suddenly i'll get the
feeling that i just smoked a cigarette
(this one just happened in fact)
i'll think "man, i wanna go smoke,
wait, didn't i just smoke?"
i know i did
but i don't remember it,
it seems like no time has passed.
i check my pack and, sure enough,
there's a cigarette missing.
i go to get a drink of water,
but then i realize i have a
glass of water in my hand.
"when did i get this? just now? what?"
time jumped forward a couple of seconds.
i'm losing time.
i don't like this.
i miss when time jumped by a lot.
the gaps were so big i
didn't even notice them.
"sorry, i don't remember that."
"did you say that?"
"wait, that happened?"
"where are we?"
"what am i doing here?"
"what do you mean i didn't
come into work on tuesday?"
"what do you mean i've
been missing for three weeks?"
"what do you mean i've been
asleep for 34 hours?"
"how did the food i was cooking burn?
i literally just turned it on!"
this is my life.
this has been my life.
this will be my life.
anyway; i mentioned that other matt.
he's exactly the same as me,
except we switched places.
he gets to live in the
dimension i'm originally from,
and i get to live in his ******
******* dimension
where he ruins everything he touches.
the ******* wished for this
so he could have a better life,
the dimensions pushed in on each other...
you remember
me telling you about that right?
so yeah.
i'm going to find a genie, i'm going
to build a dimension hopper,
i'm going to jump through a black hole,
i'm going to run to switzerland
and cause the
hadron collider to have a meltdown
and
i'm going to ride the shockwave back
to my own dimension
and i'm going to go to that other matt
who'll be laughing, sitting on a couch,
and drinking a beer,
thinking about how great his life is now
and i'm going to walk up to him,
he'll know who i am the instant he sees me,
and i'm going to grab him around
the throat with both of my hands
push my fingers into the part of the throat
right below where the lymph nodes are
and i'm going to choke him.
and he's going to see the rage in my eyes
and he's going to pass out from ox-dep.
i'm going to then carry his limp
body to a bathtub
and i'm going to chain him to the bath tub
and i'm going to start hitting
him with a hammer
first in the feet, he'll wake up after
the first blow,
and then in the shins,
and then in the knee caps
and i'm going to work my way up
i'm going to hit him in that spot
in our knees that
hurts so bad we puke when it gets hit
and i'm going to hit him in that
spot we're both
afraid of getting hit in because
it's so ******* creepy
and then i'm going to pound in his ribs
and he's gonna start puking blood because
of the fracture
and them
I'm going to break his collar bones
with the hammer.
and then i'll sit down on the toilet
and just stare at him.
he'll know not to talk, since we're the
same person,
but if he does i'll hit him in the teeth
with the hammer.
then, i'll just watch as he bleeds to
death.
one living matt
one dying matt
the exact same person except one
of us is a ******* *******
and the other is a regular *******.
i will watch him bleed and choke
and puke and cry
and finally die.
and then i'm going to get a hack saw,
cut him to pieces,
put the pieces in separate trash bags
and i'm going to disperse
them across the country.
or maybe i'll just throw them
in the trash
or burn them
it doesn't matter if someone
finds fragments of him
because we have the exact same DNA and
the exact same finger prints
the exact same tongue prints
the exact same palm prints
the exact same hair follicles
we're the same.
so if he dies, whatever. there's an extra.
and that extra is me.
and i will take his place
and in the other dimension,
the other you's
will not say ****.
as i come back into the room,
sit calmly back down,
grab the beer the other me was drinking
and say "sorry,
i had to take care of that doppleganger."
you will not say ****
the these you's (the ones reading this)
will know what happened when
suddenly
i disappear under
magical or paranormal or
simple
strange
circumstances
and you all will not say ****.
just in case i'll leave a note
and it will say
"sorry, had to step out for a bit.
also: **** all of you"

because so help me god,
i will find him
and i will eat him.
fin.

p.s. i feel a bit better now.
As I raised up in bed
At 3:05 am it's cold and the smell of death and the color red

I see the demons surrounding me
I feel them lifting me up in the air I try to plea

Spinning me around as if I was a toy
Chanting over and over we are here to destroy

My head feels the pain as they use the key to open my door
They creeped in hearing their voices saying it's time for war

As they enter into my brain I know I'm in trouble
I start fighting for my life but it's different this time so much rubble

They are strong as I am weak
Hitting and scratching at me feeling every shockwave hitting me like lightning streaks

I'm yelling for help but my voice is not heard
They drop me on the floor grabbing my hair and dragging me outside this is what I had feared

I reach for something,someone,anything to help me
They are taking me this time I've got to stop them I keep telling myself once they get me in their lair **** I just hit a tree

With all my might
I hang on tight

I finally find my best friend who died a week ago
Save me please I plead and she starts biting them and throwing them as if they was made of dough

I start helping her and in know time the demons have left except for one which is hiding in my head the one who stole the master key
The one that will never let me be free

But for now I can breathe again and only hope that I get my strength up for the next battle
I will continue to fight until I get my key back so I must not dismantle

That's when I'll be set free
Written by: Denise Huddleston
Darkly Jun 2018
Sleep.

The vast world of dreams, leaden as oceans deep.

In the depths we find our dear prince, but this time—dreamless—in a place of ether and temporal energy.

Woven throughout a nebula are paths of light leading to distant gates and far off doorways.

Plinths of stone floating about… Orbiting…

On one such path our prince finds himself, his means of arrival… not remembered.

If this is not a dream, then how can I be drawing breath? Where am I?

The luminous pink and blue gasses impart nothing. The twinkling dust scattered all around only twinkles.

This place is beautiful… and has such strong magic, on a scale I have not seen before.

Calypso looks to the path on which he stands. Made of energy, it winds, curves, dips, rises, and connects with many others. A few end at what appear to be large doorways… portals…

He starts to walk down the path.

With barely three steps taken, Calypso senses something… a slight breeze… he stops and turns to see a storm.

A massive squall line of dark rolling clouds with sporadic flashes of light emanating from within.

Thunder, ominous.

What brought that about?

No sooner had the question formed in his mind than he realized the speed at which the storm was traveling. In a mere minute, it seemed to have moved a mile closer; another minute and he will be in its clutches.

Tracing geometric patterns in the air with his hands and using words of enchantment, Calypso creates a sphere of magical energy around himself.

The storm, an unstoppable force of magic and nature, consumes the prince.

The shield, conjured by one of the most powerful sorcerers, holds.

There is darkness…

The clouds move around Calypso’s magic sphere, lightning flashes nearby and everything is lit for an instant. A moment passes, and the hairs on the back of his neck start to tingle…

And a massive bolt of lightning connects with his shield, turning its blue hue to fiery orange—and another arcs into the path close by—Calypso, eyes closed, is thrown from the path by the shockwave.

Through space, the prince flies…

On stone, does he land…

His shield, gone.

The hungry wind starts sweeping him from the plinth—lightning flashes—he finds a hold and grips the stone with all of his strength.

But such is the strength of the wind… Is this it, then?

And in an instant, the storm passes, the wind moves on…

Silence.

Calypso pulls his battered body to the middle of the floating stone and stands. His wonder, greater than anything he had felt before. Moments pass… he senses something…

A slight breeze…

He turns and looks.

Out in the distance, in the void between the stars… a silver sail.
;~)
Adamska Oct 2012
You spoke kind words,
a blissful reprieve from the silence and stagnation.
Warm words,
too few to count,
too subtle to embrace,
Yet the sun was shining
through two small
too small windows
And my heart was racing
too fast to slow then,
too warm to freeze still.
I felt the tremors,
choked on dry air.
I felt the shockwave pump blood
through rusty veins worn tired from disuse.
My eyes mirrored yours
hypnotized and ignorant of the change in motion.
The sun was shining
but the light was in your stare
So innocent and intrigued.
So unlike mine.
I couldn't bear the contact.
Struggling and stuttering,
my silence will save you.
You'll keep what I lack
Embrace what I've lost
Receive brief surrender
By your eyes' blind kindness.
Poetic T Sep 2014
Love is explosive
I get shrapnel from a kiss
Embedded in my Heart
Felling's
Pain
Love
Will this explosion
Consume me in in
Love,
Or
Breathe
Hate,
So close they could be
One
The shockwave engulfs
Each breath,
Every beat has
Shrapnel in it
Will it pass though
Exhaled in breath
Or will those
Jagged
Sharp
Pieces
Shred this heart in pain
Or will it consume it in *love..
Jillyan Adams Jan 2013
There’s something burning on the
Blackout strip of highway.
Light and movement
Frozen in a momentary
Dance.

Her eyes are wide and full
Of the emptiness that
Looms before her.

Nothing moves
And I step with it,
Carefully
Through the
Shards of suspended glass
That slice open the freezing night
Air.

Metal is bent and crushed
Against itself.
But for now, the
Ripple of the
Fatal shockwave
Stands
Still.

Her eyes are wide and full
Of the light tearing,
Imposing
Through the windshield
Into what remains of her mind.

I feel the moment
Of absolute stillness
Beginning to slip and I open the
Door.
Detach her soul with a
Kiss gentler
Than Life could ever
Offer
To save her from
The crushing mayhem.

Take her into my arms. She
Sleeps, as they all do,
Her head against my chest.
I turn away.
I leave the scene of force and
Fragility and, with my
Only mercy
Cradled in my arms,
Have no power but to let the
Scene behind me
Attack itself and
Consume.
Shocked by a shockwave
A ship lost at sea
Waves graciously high
Sorrow seemingly deep

A brutal balance
Beaming with angels
Waiting at the gates
To welcome what we've lost

It's God's golden gift
To give life to earth
Like a bumble bee
Gives life to a flower

Caterpillars die
Cloaked in a cocoon
To give birth to a
Beautiful butterfly

The sun leaves at night
But it keeps it's shine
Even when it's dark
To come back the next day

Precious pedestals
With red rose pedals
Names engraved in stone
And letters sealed in tears

Paints us a picture
That life is a gift
Full of surprises
Wrapped in a bowtie and

God takes what we love
Right out of our hands
Just to make us love
What we have even more.
Life is more than a gift, don't ever forget that. Wrote this with a high school classmate and her family in mind. Hope you like it!
I feel like adding in my own little melody
with a black hawk heaven diving down the butterfly
with a shockwave central beating at the art of a dragonfly
with a *** tim tim to my aching heart that sinks below
when I hear of damaged goods on their way to my feet
when I hear of damaged goods on their way to my feet
and I pick up a handful of sand, and I walk down the beach
and I look up, my hair is in curls and it is soggy
fluff and stuff and I'm carrying sea shells
the shockwave at the center of the body
beating itself, beating itself
Man Jan 2021
i have atom bomb dreams
from the desert
mushroom clouds billowing
the shockwave blow past cacti
and down dirt roads
from the cockpit of a b-29
leveling the ground below
already comprised of craters
as we pummel the earth
we become a might to match the gods
"If the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst at once into the sky, that would be like the splendour of the mighty one” Oppenheimer
Lacey Clark May 2022
On a bright and sunny day
On the 18th of May
An earthquake resulted in a landslide
That unleashed a massive force brewing inside

The eruption removed the upper 1,300 feet
The magma chamber burst, rock and gas blown at supersonic speed
Within 8 miles, all was instantly wrecked
With a shockwave so big, what could one expect?

As the north sl0pe collapsed down
Life forms began to drown
Every tree in sight swept away
19 miles outward; a ruinous ashtray

Silence breaks as ash falls like snow
The once mature landscape now just an embryo
What had become a lifeless terrain,
Now shows us what 35 years can attain.

After the volcanic cataclysm
Biological legacies determine the pace of new ecosystems
The following colonizers proceed:
Lupines, pearly everlasting, alder shrubs, and fireweed.

The coniferous forest was replaced
The deciduous Alder trees won the race
The new forest attracts grasshoppers, birds, and ants
Larks, gophers, sparrows and deer mice take a chance

Out of 256 species alive prior to the eruption,
86 are now in production
20% of the surface is covered with grass and legumes
Struggling young trees that endeavor to bloom

Ecological gaps begin to fill
Strong ecosystems form, production is uphill.
Elk arrives to munch on grass and bark
The thick forests attract birds, like larks.

Fallen logs create nutrients and feed biofilm to the lake
Floating ecosystems now have plenty resources to take
Elevation affects the rate of recovery reports.
The higher the colder, which means the growing season is short.

The loss of trees means more room for sun
As the lake warms up, there’s increased production
More insects and bigger fish, like rainbow trout
Salamanders are scarce now, not many about.

Lupines deserve their own stanza, those purple legumes.
They help make a pumice landscape suitable for others to bloom.
Lupines create essential nutrients the pumice is low on
Other plants are thankful for the rare space to grow on.

All this information hopefully to inspire,
Life pulls through in situations most dire.
Mount Saint Helens’ destructive wake is seen clearly today,
The eruption that obliterated had also paved a way.
Kelley A Vinal Oct 2015
Here, the crow lies -
he has been hit, baptised
in stone

Set

Like salt
In a pillar, enveloped
They've never seen
life more still

Or a statue so developed
A shockwave has struck
The crow in the breast
He was small

Very small

Ill-tempered -
to put it best

But now eternal
Until
the universe doth claim
His wings and his beak
To be one
once
again
Story Jul 2018
The shockwave hits your throat
so fierce, it forces your own voice
from your own body.
The momentum it contains, unconstrained
by your silent spectre
rushes forward like thunder
into the levee of your knees, and strikes
the way lightning fells trees.
You're nothing but lymphnodes, flood
and weight, now.
The rest, like last night's dream
washing away the moment before you remember.
The aftershocks ripple like echoes,
capsaicin in the nerves
of all your timber limbs
dismantled and thrown to the horizon.
You hover above
what it felt like
to exist.
It rests on the tip of your tongue, a moment.
Nobody really knows the difference between
a moment and eternity.
Below the folds of water, sweat and skin
the ground is offering whispers
bubbling soggy underfoot.
They might be yours.
They say it comes from the ground up
Channels reaching channels to connect
in a flash
a crack
again
to body
even
if only
a moment.
Wack Tastic Nov 2012
Completely wrapped in the beauty of it all,
Felt the ugliness grow from my chest,
Somehow there was a throbbing burst,
Started in the feet and sank up,
Ended in the throat and the heart,
It was like a shiver,
Mind freezes,
It whirls and burns,
Fingers searching and filled with ants,
Everytime that I hear them,
I can feel a aboot sitting on my grave,
Though I am alive,
Happy and Carefree,
Down in out into those shaken moments,
Just once in a while,
But enough to mention,
Maybe there’s a shockwave from these moments,
A wing flap and right next to me someone feels it,
They don’t know what to make of it,
But maybe they’d stop and stare off for the first time,
Expanded and folded outwards,
Seeing and feeling what was once a personal quake,
Jostled from the run of the mill,
Totally mindless walking the earth,
By chance O if only,
Grateful to feel O so fearful,
O how wonderful it was.
It does not make me sad that you have moved on, that her face is next to yours in pictures now.
Sometimes it surprises me; I remember the four years that she was me. It's almost a shockwave to see her where I used to be...
a little moment of confusion when I forget that that narrow joint under your shoulder is no longer my home
But I see your smile and it makes me smile still. There is no falling out of love, only changing the way you love. I have every amount of love for you, just hidden in different cavities, pushed back in memories, reserved for who I was then and not who I am now.
She is so beautiful, so alive, so in the moment with you that I am so thrilled that she has become me, that what was once a face I had memorized is hers to kiss now, that you have someone that cares so very much about you.
Isn't it nice to know that all of that practice we did together paid off? That us loving each other then taught us to love others so much better? That the holes that we once filled in each other's lives, triangles that should have been square, are now boxed in corner to corner with people who fit wrapped into us so much better.
It makes my heart full to know that you've found that happiness.
What a blessing that I can say that we are both finally happy apart.
Daniello Mar 2012
In the bottom of the subway mouth
foamed in summer sweat and the ink
of rodents on chipped slate tunnels,
in the breath of the compassionless lick
of dirt swabs, of empty swayings,
murmurings, square eyes, and slit mouths,
where a trembling roar like an elsewhere
lion is an unfortunate savior, I saw
in front of me a real dream, just barely
(and perhaps not)—but in one of its
moments, I did feel cracked—felt the
sudden unbelievable shockwave of
shattered skull heat, white, blinding, a
quick wisp of eternal time, before back,
to the undream of dreams. This real.
Laughable and despairable. Of hot
waiting, dying lassitude. Before going
on cramped with the others. Nowhere.
David Lauer Jun 2011
Five minutes ago
Five minutes before his death
A healthy man flipped a switch

Now, miles from sunlight
We hold six billion worlds
In our hands

And now we feel the shockwave
Through the miles of concrete and steel
We feel the sunrise of a million tiny suns

And now we decide
Whether to launch the missiles
That end the world

“Vengeance,” we ask?
“Justice,” they scream.
RyanMJenkins Jul 2013
Night flashes as time passes
Treading grasses seeing through various glasses.
Why would anyone want to mask this?
Track this through blackness
With the shades pulled down.
Bask in it,
Just don't postpone the practice
For whatever the task is.
The fact is, bliss gets
Every moment you're aware of.
When peace is released into the vibration of your soul
You emit what some call, love.
Energy bursting out sends a shockwave
Into the universal consciousness.
A deep seed in your being is where this blossom lives.
Other fields are affected furthering spiritual growth.
It would change our worlds in ways unbeknownst.
Nurture the inner child
To experience the wild and exotic.
You can come to my mind's garden,
Free from what's chaotic.
What I give you though,
is more than you can take in with your optic.
Transmissions from divine places with feelings kaleidoscopic.
Staying on topic
There's no use in trying to stop it.
Give in to the frequencies and I guarantee you'll profit.
I will too, rich in experience.
Let's explore the catacombs of each other's pyramids,
Past, present, and what we manifest to be,
From divinity to infinity let's live life supreme.
Wrapped in a dream and we're lucid miracles
Transcendental guides furthering what is mystical
Derek Yohn Oct 2013
i carry my grandfather's
broken heart with me,
his hopes and dreams
realized and lost.

i have sewn my grandmother's
disappointments to my sleeve,
a flair of lace and sorrow,
quilted debonair.

I wield the father's attention,
a span of no great measure,
a weapon of mass distraction,
a net for butterflies chased.

The islands of fire in ceremony,
a festival of misgivings,
i offer up these baubles,
the trinkets, memories from a prince.

The belly of the earth rumbles,
a distant lands' shockwave,
beckoning a rider,
calling for a king.

King Kuameamea rises,
he paddles to ruin:
the crest of the tsunami
mastered, subjugated foolishly.
Ingrid Ohls Apr 2013
It doesn't seem fair does it?
So much emotion centered at another soul.
There is the passion, the completly overwhelming want to feel every inch of your body.
The unmistaken need of having you as close as humanly possible.
Your lips meet mine, and there is nothing that can overtake me that quickly.
Even your breath on the back of my neck is enough for me to,  for a moment or two forget the pain.
Forget how I spend most of the day.
We ended up in pergatory together.
As close as two can be, and never so torn as we are.
I'm so broken by your choices, pulled together again by the arms that tore out my heart.
We scream, spew hatred, cry, throw knives to see who can hurt who more.
Only to reach out for the other to save us everytime
To be true loves and each others poison.
It's truly terrifying.
Imagine you not here with me.
Imagine us spending the rest of our lives in this crazy chaos.
Lying in your arms is where I should be,
But the ghosts,
They can sure haunt a damaged soul.
Two people that have been broken into a million pieces.
The love, that undying unconditional truth that we cannot deny.
Why do we try my love?
Why is the anger so immense?
I wish we never even had to hear the word addiction.
I close my eyes, go back in time.
Before our life was unhinged.
I can feel that feeling,  feel the happiness run through my body.
Like a shockwave.
The lightning will strike again,
Reality will bring it all back.
Bring back the stranger who I remain chained to.
You, my disease
My cure.
Please save yourself.
To save me.
To save the perfect moment I forget how a white powder erased me from your mind.
Aimée Oct 2022
What are you waiting for?
Life changers, society shakers
Don't need to wait for something more

Strike that match and start a fire
One that catches in everyone's hearts
One that lives to inspire

Don't wonder any longer
Just jump and ***** the warning label
You were ALWAYS stronger

Bold colors fade, not disappear
Bright lights go out,
Long before their glow clears

Let the next generation
Grow up in a world where they
Never knew the absence of your creation
Let your mark on the world be something wonderful and stop withholding it!
Truly Lustful Jul 2018
Another passing thought, and another, another, another, another... I like being solitary, all to myself, but being alone is my biggest enemy. I used to love it, I could sit, alone, and be content forever, but now I find myself constantly seeking out someone, anyone to rip me from my own warped reality. Could I take my thoughts and my brain and re roll them, I wouldn't be me but I wouldn't be tortured...Would that make me selfish or selfless... They listen to me bring up the same subject several times whereas most people bring it up once or twice, I'll be stuck on it for days, weeks, months... When I shut my door it's an all out brawl between me, myself, and I and the only person who can stop it is...me(?), but how? When you're your own worst enemy; how do you win? I continue to sit, and brood trying to come up with a solution for this vicious cycle of bad energy. However as soon as I start I'm right back where I started, I don't feel stressed but I know I always am, when there is a leech attached to the back of my head but everytime I reach for it my hands go through nothing, my fingers full of hair, loose, falling out... I grasp for straws everyday at the bottom of a pill bottle holding a small capsule of hope, but artificial faith can only get you so far. Just like music, my headphones plug my ears, and the sound floods my head, but the enigma that is me forces it all out like a violent shockwave that keeps my attention at all times. If we could find that imaginary switch we joke about to turn ourselves off, use it on me, at'least for a couple of years, so I can take a break from arguing with myself, there may be no vocal words but that thousand mile stare consists of a thousand conversations.
Honestly, just a mind blow out.

— The End —