"slipstream" poems
De-winged and flightless
is the dragonfly
that tried to slip by
in my slipstream,
It found instead the pickup
traversing the alleyways
of my convoluted imagination.
I don’t know why I’m driving,
ever driving someplace
unrealized and unexplored.
I feel so disconnected,
I feel so disrespected by the world
sometimes
But that’s not fair
it has been good to me.
I feel so disconnected
sometimes
and yet it comes in times
when I’m most consumed
most surrounded.
Maybe I’m just tired
and the walls around me quiver only
from the struggles of my waking eyes,
Maybe I’m just bitter
that I can’t have the perfect life
and feel as if nothing could be better,
Maybe I’m affected
by this liquid life I’m draining from my cup
in hopes of finding a different day
at the bottom.
Is it jealousy that lingers in my mind
or mere longing tinged with a heavy
dose of confusion?
I am confused.
And yet I’m still alive
unlike my dragonfly
and so I stumble onward.
-BRD
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 4:03 PM UTC
Walking home alone on Saturday night,
social sounds spilling around me then
fading in my slipstream,
I round the corner of my street and
an image of your face rises
to combat the cold that searches for
the marrow of my bones.
Hope flutters like a wounded bird into
the pale sky of a vision desperate
with longing.
Forgive my physical hunger.
You were right to deny it
because by morning
you had given me
a far greater nourishment.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 1:04 AM UTC
All oceans would this navigator discover
seven seas in seven years did he roam
whist sparkling stars in the heavens tried so hard
yet this broken navigator could not get back home
So he bites on solar winds and sails
to a place of many days of doldrums
this place so stagnant and most morose
he had to his sins, has to wait with his kin within
His crew are that hard of salty seafaring kind
with maps written on their faces cracked by sun and salt
they his, had only ****** smells and shells
call them hero's as seven seas they did horridly sea's fought
This was his last voided slipstream event
these mariners by the cut of their gibe
prayed to an Egyptian Hero some call Alligator
for he is the first and last of Navigator
So whist this captain of mapped minds falls
his company will care for his last orders
for they have witnessed in ancient tears
and the breaking of the navigator
Oh fly the flag and be proud
live poetry with passion long and loud
let your heart embrace this creature proud
whist you watch the breaking of the Navigator
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 7:14 AM UTC
I've been looking at the world from a different perspective
IG filters and Snapchat interceptions
I was off the grid, I am now in inception
Social media dance floors
no escape or exceptions
what do you stand for?
put your hands in the septic
so your arms can take all the **** that
Your legs normally dealt with
Apartment, complex complicated life consequences
Brothers life deciphered
into the trenches
Despite all of the help we lent him
Life can be a loan when you are alone
It can get expensive
Don't own a home,
but I could show you what rent is
I could show you what hustle is,
I'm that relentless
Slick mouth, silver tounge...this is manifested
Bike peddling, rebelling Ambidextrous
Quiet devilish, my medicine makes most hella lit
I speak in crooked tongues like most nuns who settle with
Being Singular minded there Vibes are so celibate
A courier in this Corredor settlement
How do I, in these times, stay not high but relevant
I'm confined in thin lines, tell them **** time,
if the sunshine, makes us dumb blind
Like retail and it's details with the big signs
See this conclusion is just a visual illusion
A cesspool in the mainstream visual pollution
This vortex is just a digital confusion
Digits to acidic, hash tags for the lab rats to abuse them
watch me slipstream into a hazmat suit and snap back to an audience all the toxics that I'm using
my minds a clock incapsulated in the bottom of a backpack but only in math class, I state facts for your amusement
How can you do this?! Who the **** are you kid?!
I'm Duke Nukem with a scorpion fist ready to hiduken!
I'm Isaac Newton with a paint brush when I do this
Painting photosynthesis with my sentences, I conclude with...
Nothing but a chronological order I cause a cascade of disorder
I'm on the edge don't **** with me and my border...can't **** with me I'm the best this visual mess is what your ordered
Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 3:33 PM UTC
“some say love is a burning thing. that it makes a fiery ring.”
so kiss her.
or don’t.
and always regret.
always bike home thinking.
always think of love.
she’s in a parking lot somewhere drinking cheap wine,
balancing on the bumper.
he’s on the river somewhere drinking cheap beer,
balancing boulders.
a dog sprints by and forgets all heartache.
he is happy.
the town and the people and the job and the dreams.
the nothings
and the everythings.
and the little life this is.
to slipstream years gone by.
one fire in the sky, or another in the hills
just west of town.
something said about the smoke.
we take a weekend to spool through the story of your folks.
film cans or video cassettes,
or home re-sets. rewind.
words and faces scrawled in a tome of note.
spoken little memories,
little mysteries.
stories to tell no one.
stories to tell those who will listen.
the boys with dirtbike brothers.
the brothers with drunken fathers.
the fathers with dead wives.
the wives with ancient mothers.
the mothers and their children.
and the children living well enough.
living calm, then free.
far away, then close.
an empire.
of highways and histories.
of songs and the souls they swing.
of old money/new money,
betrayal on the horizon.
blacktop jamborees and assassinations.
driveways and nicely neighborhood lit-upon lawns.
well-trimmed trees.
a never-ending tree of lovers,
grasped and gasping for the sky.
listen and wait.
for the sun to kiss the moon goodbye.
[a family and their dog.]
this chrysalis.
this coincidence that is us, on one good gust.
from heart to hand to sons and daughters.
synchronized to die and revive and imbibe along the ride.
a tableau of animalia.
feasting and sleeping and awoken
by the wide little world all around.
“we are fires in the night. let us bathe you in our light.”
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 5:46 PM UTC
Silhouettes in moonlit mazes
your tears are complex superstructures.
Superclusters wrinkle I, negative energy,
tunneling through chasms forbidden;
you and I float.
Comes a sound, depth charged sleeper cell,
a bloop, a mystery, an unsweep,
a whistle, a Julia, a train, a slow down.
Heard by 350,000 zombies.
You and I sleep.
A child derails a train, safe to say,
that the world has its trapdoors.
Its a mystery, they say, but what do they know?
About us and our death.
You and I disorient.
Your two ******* hide a heart,
A mother board center of circulation.
Your body’s iterative delusion
Graces mine. And dissolves me.
You and I disintegrate.
We need to hack the heart,
With absurdity and farce and slipstream:
Into subspecies, we, simians,
We are grateful, gratified.
You and I evaporate
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 12:22 AM UTC
One white page.
One black dot.
One white page
with one black dot.
That is all.
You see it.
Good.
Now wiggle that dot.
Just a tad.
Watch it shake.
A single vibrating cell.
A fly in the wind.
Trembling up. And down.
And down and up and right and left.
It's a ***** smudge
ruining your clean page.
So rub it out .
With your pencil thin rubber.
But it dodges like a boxer's head.
A darting fish.
You want to get rid of it.
You want a clean white page.
Plant your rubber down.
A dramatic staff in the ground
cracks the white soil.
But it circles you.
That fly, that fish,
that blurred boxer.
That singular cell.
It circles your staff.
Your statement.
Magnetically.
A metal ball.
Orbiting your invisible eraser.
To erase the invisible dot.
But it is there.
Circling faster.
Wider.
Angrier.
Leaving a trail behind.
Too fast for the eye.
The sultry smoke of speed.
The slipstream of a cannonball.
The page is warped.
Earthquake epicentre on the A4.
Shook by the fault lines.
Jutting canyons drop down.
Ledges crumble and crash.
Sugared pie crust
hit with a hammer.
Everything collapses.
Invisible things are also under
the spell spell of gravity.
Hit on the head by invisible apples.
But it's not invisible.
It's not a cell.
A fly or smudge.
An agile boxing fish head.
A cannonballing canyon pie.
It's not even a white page.
Nevermind the black dot.
It's nothing.
Not a thing.
Not invisible,
but the kind of nothing
that can't be seen.
Yet there it is.
Mar 11, 2012
Mar 11, 2012 at 7:29 PM UTC
For my mate Ernest W who cared....
Invisible in silky strands, a gossamer of lethal thought,
Drifting through the nether regions, touching on my mind.
Complication’s vagaries encroaching on the circumspect
Magnifying well beyond solutions I can find.
Nervous in the groundswell now, I feel it all inflating,
Inflating to a curtaining beyond my self control,
Waves of peristalsis in a shrill persistant keening,
Locking out the sanity in holding logic’s goal.
Waves of peristalsis in a bath of perspiration
Panic in a rupture at the coccyx of my spine,
Ravenously eating at the fabric of all reason
Ravenously gnawing at this rationale of mine.
***** in a puddle on the floor beside my footwear
Cloying is the stench of the ***** in my drawers,
Lost are the vestiges of any thought of decency
Gone is the differentiation in my flaws.
Clenching of hands in a bind of blue confusion
Catatonic slowness in arresting the decline,
Vaccilating eyeballs are rolling for the camera
And utter desolation is a flavour on my mind.
Why be concerned with the shaming of tomorrow?
Why come to terms with the maunderings of late?
Why face the music of the mirth and derision
When there’s a more practical direction to take?
Glide to the realm of the smooth overflowing
Slide in the slipstream oblivion makes,
Slip the bonds of your sad mortal tenure’s
Awful array of destructive mistakes.
Glide to the realm of serene independence
Glide far away from the troubled and hard,
Gone to the gossamer web of the ether
Gone to the nether world’s silky facade.
*...........: But what's the guts Courageous,
You happy with your deed?
Are your friends all overjoyed
To see your suicide succeed?
Is your family unaffected
By the loss and guilt remorse,
Your sudden grand departure
leaving kids without recourse?
Did you think about the aftermath?
The chaos and the pain
And the long term implications
Of your shattered families' shame?
The guilt within your partners heart,
The kids who are confused
And the ****** dissapointment
Of your mates.. who feel abused?
The mess you left behind you
And the tangled web you wove
And the bruising of good memories
For which, you once,...had strove.
Your painless, quick demise, you thought,
Released you from all this.....
But the sadness in the silent eyes
Condemns you as remiss.*
Marshalg
In an effort to understand why?
....And explain why not !
9 December 2010
Read more: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/suicide-12/#ixzz17kzvfsTk
Dec 10, 2010
Dec 10, 2010 at 2:09 PM UTC
troll tooth
oger toe
flow stupid
fistful of shiny carbon lattice wilt
and a composted halo too
beautifully torn derivatives slid
from this orifice
oven timer set fer
office space wasted
noob cubed
these are exponential times we're livin in, sim
yer prolly obsolete, so tap the banner below
for more there's more
trends friend then interrogate
unfriend those has-been's for the win dim
naked lightbulbs swing from
threadbare strings faster than light plus **** too
there's ***** adorno
how right you were
this **** is almost criminal
art narcs on
the hole a' truth
so help me dog
im
the hominid
that stood up
this fiction.
slipstream hoolahoop no-show
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 7:05 PM UTC
The world is a Bersinski painting
The rain is a Plath poem
The night is a Fellini film
The day is a Bach cello Suite
Our love is a winter fable
Cold, warm and passing.
The stars are drips of milk
The wind is God breathing
The sky is a floating mirror
The grass is mother earth’s hair
Her ***** is the earth
Shapely, comely and nurturing
French roast coffee is the turning of pages
A scandalous book in a leather bound cover
The Snow outside is the harp strings strumming
Flaking specs falling lightly and patiently
The city is a never-ending waltz
The *** lives are directed by Bertolucci
The homeless vagrants are saints in rags
The People walking are sinners
Each a sphere within a sphere
A world within a world
The theaters are abandoned rib cages
The poets are Russian matryoshka dolls
The painters are lost children
The eyes are broken, stained glass
Your arms and body are home to me
Cradle me, soothe me and touch
Those words won’t do it this time
Sometimes the silence is what I need
And you with me, away from it all
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 1:10 AM UTC
terrible machines slipstream the extreme in-between where they grind the invalid star heaps into dust
there, they spike the lion's paw of life's Sphinx, methinks it winks at God's Riddle, and twiddles a thumb of some god, in a sky pod of dead people, hording jasmine and madness and pancakes, upon the everlasting Maybach sedan with the chrome piping and the platinum plinth, regal in ice and fire !
what aspires must be crushed into tiny little else. into neutrinos of speculation in the non rational abode of our most holy joke. the spun spoke, in a wheel of cold lotus. we know this is not a dream without motive. we know this because we notice, know this because it's flawless, and flawless reveals a mind of terrible machines that slipstream the extreme in- between where they grind the invalid star heaps, into dust ! they might spike the lion's claw of Life's sphinx, where it thinks that most people are dead inside, that might can take a joke if joke is told in a void baritone with Gamelan Bells of Unbearable Revelation, the revery of a Greek nose on the face of a broken clock.
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 2:49 AM UTC
Shun individuality,
encourage conformity,
rejected, shunned; out of place.
Put on your mask,
lets stray outside...
into the slipstream of the mainstream,
and drown in the shallow waters.
Reveal Yourself,
ego dissolves when at peace like a Berroca.
Bring you back to life,
in a spliced moment of clarity.
The ego is society,
your face looks familiar,
but I can't put my finger on your name,
quietly,
we tip toe on the footsteps of the raconteurs,
and forget those that meant the most at moments.
Don't let the mask slip.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 12:31 PM UTC
And so I slipped into the mirror;
finally after years of staring, I saw the ripple.
I crossed over into fantasy, a paradise, my personal wonderland.
I wonder where I'll land.
And down I go into the unknown,
Red string theories, space and time; time and space.
Running on the endless slipstream
And so I open my eyes and overcome the race.
I opened my eyes and to my surprise I stood before the garden;
I opened my eyes and to my surprise I stood before the Queen.
I opened my eyes and to my surprise; I was falling again.
Free fall into my dream,
Dance with me and by my queen;
This is my reality, grab my hand and walk through the mirror with me.
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 8:06 PM UTC
7 fires
traversing
3 pools
mind | body | spirit
soul expanding
unbounded
past the body
into the slipstream
venturing through the
viaducts
of our collective
dreams
sipping
from the
river of
life
filling our
vessels
with
LOVE
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 2:37 PM UTC
I know that I have loved you
sometime in the past
we're two souls out in the slipstream
with no sail upon the mast
two souls in search of someone
and I know that someone's you
we've been in love forever
at least a time or two
I have known you for forever
yes, I know that it was you
we are looking for each other
and each time, our love is new
we are souls without direction
we have been in love before
and we're destined to repeat it
in time forever more
we might skip a generation
ok maybe one or two
we are searching for each other
at least I am for you
we aren't famous individuals
just two souls on the wind
who are cursed to keep repeating
for once, we must have sinned
we are stuck inside the vortex
of an endless loop of souls
coming back to search forever
through a sea of timeless holes
we have been in love forever
and until we get it right
we are two stars always burning
in the cold dark winter night
we are souls out on the slipstream
we have played the lover's game
we both know we've been together
because our love it seems the same
it's a love built on the ages
we know we'll meet again
one day we'll get it perfect
so now my love...'till then...
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 11:36 PM UTC
Handclaps, trapped, you are another clapped out hasbeen fading on the subtle regret of a haunted dancefloor,that echoes to a trapdoor of your reflection ,deep on a stained echo of a fatigued stand up romance fall at the feet of saints part time actors on shadows of downbeat sadness ,that chance meeting fall out from insight to quicksand that pours on a sinking fragrence of pitiful sadness and tide tiredness of desert slipstream and fragile happiness to upturned madness ,undressed to a ****** round of applause that maps teach us to follow to a statue frozen and silent .
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 4:22 PM UTC
For all of my coastie dad's wisdom
My summers spent learning to sail
My affinity for swimming since I was three
The countless snorkeling trips
The hours spent in canoes and kayaks
The trips paddle boarding and whitewater rafting
Somehow
I'm still petrified
By the rushing numbered current
Of a digital stream
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 10:22 PM UTC
i never told you this, but:
i didn’t want to say “yes” when you asked me on our first date.
i was thinking of someone in buffalo
who was (at the same time) making playlists with my name in the title
and sending me poems in the mail.
you were just on my periphery,
something of a backup –
until you weren’t,
until you were
everything.
all summer, we were just kids kissing on the beach
just sweaty palms, just chasing trains --
until suddenly it became
running down the hallway of the hospital
and sneaking into the radiology ward,
losing my mind in the waiting room
and holding your hand, twisted up in tubes.
i’ll never forget the way you looked at me that week
and i’ll always remember
making out in the x-ray room,
the nurses on the other side of the door
and wondering if the man behind the divider could hear you
when you told me you loved me for the first time
the truth is:
it’s not fair that you stopped wanting me
and started wanting her,
just because she was convenient
and i was far away
maybe one day i’ll stop being angry,
maybe it’ll stop feeling like someone pulled all my bones from the sockets,
maybe one day i’ll stop missing you so much
and maybe, someday, my body will stop feeling
like a burial ground
but in this moment,
like a stupid animal,
my heart is still waiting
for you to come home.
i don’t know how to tell it you aren’t coming.
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC
I went to sleep in a slipstream
Woke to a world gone mad
Red ran like a river down barren streets
All was upside down
The sky was a seamless grey
People were black and white
Lost in an old time movie
The sight filled me with fright
I heard a hideous laughter
A one eyed magician poked me straight
Pick a card, he said
Pick a card or forever exist in exile
before it is all too late...
Sep 14, 2011
Sep 14, 2011 at 2:22 PM UTC
Fear of fears and cruelty.
Abandoned and haunted by silence
A silhouette tear, statuesque frozen through years of permofrost drama,
like the anguish of youth, a conundrum to sterile,
a truth of whispers fly bye-bye to the ghost in your closet.
Now a skeleton of has been purpose that sails by on a slipstream of memory,
biting tongues caress the heartbeat of your anguish,
sweet lullabies dance to the frozen tears.
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 7:49 AM UTC
Across the Savannah we sailed
Floating through the slipstream
Of desire.
Higher we rose, to thorny heights.
Embraced by wings
Of fire.
A kingdom freely given turns to rust
Citadel walls fall in blizzards of dust.
The air is displaced by talons
That grip from ankle to throat.
Clawing and scratching,
A noose,
A rope.
Upon the steppe I lay,
Impaled upon your
Tree of pain.
Barbed through the heart,
Saved for a rainy day.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 7:11 AM UTC
Would you banish me if I confessed
a secret thrill the instant
shrill sirens intrude,
rudely breaking in
to shove aside my trailed-off whispers
with a wail from which no earwax,
no matter how doughy thick,
could keep a modern Ulysses safe.
Maybe it’s this time
they’ll stop for me.
Maybe it’s this time
and there won’t come a knock.
Maybe it’s this time
the stale crust of hardening past
explodes to scorch a put-upon earth
or crack her open so we can,
you and I, slip through,
up among the slewfoot roamers.
Their heavy heads are down,
always down, down,
pointed down and they’re unaware
there are germs here.
There are puffs of dainty fluff floating
close above them here and hoping
to ride our slipstream,
to skip over those dreams
too drained of ambition for ever
to germinate.
Ignore, am I
the kind to ignore? I am
ignoring them right now,
and the dimpled facts
they’d dare be
if beggary wasn’t better served
than derring-do. Don’t
tell me you don’t see them too.
I’ve witnessed the self-interest
and I’m still abiding, dude,
but when, dear God, when
will enlightenment finally arrive?
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 6:39 AM UTC
as i slipstream, unseen in red leaves golden in the dun
i writhe in no horror, collapsing figments of ennui with the tip of my prehensile tongue
i know not how the rivers run, but joy is not dead... it capers in the laser lilies of our fire
i know from stone
the story of the mountain
but i drink stones and cut bread
with breaking waves, anyway.
Oct 16, 2011
Oct 16, 2011 at 5:06 PM UTC
grains of time slip thru fingers unabated
like the slipstream of her words
all thouse meanings slipped by
unawares
until madness thought to dance on the pinhead
of a logical choice
and you suddenly found yourself with
nothing to your name but your name
rebuild and reinvent who you are and meant to be
and in the sweeping away of your former years you discover that
each precious person who's love you
you received the gift of
meant just as much as all the rest
that the real value and meaning of our lives
is in the love and joys
we find in thouse around us
that share caring and positive things
its the laughter and love
the compassion and hope
we find in friends
family
strangers
that makes this worth living for
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 1:29 PM UTC