"spawned" poems
As the sole cub born,
I had some tiniest spots,
My mother was the world,
And my father was the king,
As she fed me while I crooned for a sibling,
Dad used to just look at her,
But differences spawned and they magnified.
I never had a sibling,
I lack a big teaching.
Now I am the lonely lion.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 10:01 AM UTC
Sandwiched in layers of liquid crystal display,
Encased in vats of plastic,
we
Voyaging in data-spheres, plumes of digital play.
Mindless,
In the soup of silicone,
all
Myth-makers,
Pouring over electro-spawned
networks,
fall
Workers,
In the buzz of bits and bytes, of
megabytes and terabytes,
down
Everyone
Far from the wood, the brine, the
mud that caked us,
In tighter and tighter
digitised projections,
click!
‘Like me’,
‘Share me’,
‘Leave your comments.’
Messages smoothed out in polymers,
Beyond reproductions of ourselves,
enter:
Deeper, delving in the mire of dream-conscious,
Now a waking voice,
Hardened, digitised, recorded in
bubbles, in drives, in clouds:
Numb numbers of numbers numb,
mirror.
A platform slotted home:
The motherboard!
To record the echo in the hollow
of our Being.
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC
A new day, press play, a challenge for one.
Solo for I, never won.
Spawned like magic, 100 people? That’s tragic.
Less would I prefer,
From the bus, I jump and glide
From the wailing heights, I go to a bush and hide.
Found a camp, a player I’ve tramped,
One closer to being a champ.
Many people less, beginning to stress,
Loot everywhere, what a mess!
In this battle, I thought I would be fine,
But in the distance, I saw a white line,
With the numbers of sixty-nine,
A soccer skin! A soccer skin! Oh God, oh why?
Building fast as the speed of light,
All I knew that it could be a hard fight.
Because, with death in my mind, I didn’t know what to do,
Thoughts boggled up, like the texture of goo.
I placed a trap on the wall of wood,
I waited suddenly, wondering when they would,
Yes! I caught them with my trap!
One closer to being a champ.
Found a vehicle of an interesting shape,
Bouncy like a ball, all around, on the landscape,
A Baller! Yes! Now I’m glad,
But no need to use it, I got a launchpad!
However, I could bounce around, Boom! Bam! and Pow!
Then I could tell them, “who’s laughing now?”
However now, I’m in the final two,
I shot his build down, if only he knew,
Now it is over, show off with a ramp,
Now I’ve become the champ.
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 8:26 PM UTC
Elephant in the room, shoo the hell away!
Don't stick around; I wish you wouldn't stay
Don't mess with my head, inciting all I feel
I don't need you here, I want to heal
Stop blaring in my ears, your noxious lies
I'm sick to the stomach with my pathetic cries
Resist flapping your gigantic ears
They simply just fan the rage in my tears
Quit blocking my view with your sheer enormity
Get out of my thoughts so better I could see
Halt your incessant skin rubbing against my sores
Chafing me raw on top of my existing scores
Pull out your pointy tusks, they poke and jab
I'm bent in many places; I don't need more stabs
Take your infernal rear out of my face!
I'm self-destructing, counting up the days
Cease your retaliation, leave with no protest
Go find and sit yourself in someone else's nest
Drop your intentions to stomp me broken
I'm mangled enough; almost misshapen
End this mindless rampage...please
Let me iron myself straight, in peace...
Dear elephant, have you gone?
Thank you for the blight of my time, you've spawned
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
Know that my heart beats for you...
Every crank of the wheel, turn of dials...
Leading to my every breath and every sigh
Wishing every moment would stay a while...
Unaware of themselves hard at work,
The cogs in my mind are constantly spinning...
The gears in my head are lodged in place...
Cogs and gears like clockwork, carelessly turning...
Like a factory of sorts,
They keep churning out ideas.
Conceived notions that only had been
Spawned by my mind's nucleus...
Blinking lights signalling ways,
And means to sweep you into the air,
Then leave you lofted for second....
Without a trace of fear or care.
At that moment, what I'd give to just admire...
You floating against a backdrop of stars.
An image frozen in infinite.
An image free from blemishes or scars.
Then when gravity claims you back,
You'd fall the most graceful of falls...
A fall in the slowest of motion.
A fall led by my loving calls.
Fear not darling for my arms would be there...
To catch you and hold you close in a tight embrace.
Cheek to cheek, chest to chest... You'd then know that,
Cogs and gears spin only for you in this very same place...
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 10:44 AM UTC
Misunderstood in a world of the regular
My thoughts stay odd when theirs stay similar
Imaginations with more loops and hoops than a circus
They call me weird some call me crazy
In a world of my own
At least here I'm king with citizens spawned from my twisted thoughts
Loved by few understood by none
Still not as lonely as they think
Not insane yet on the brink
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 4:10 AM UTC
*chaste pecks from the super-sonic youth
numb lips flutter to the hollowed cheeks of normality
no longer the hand-prints on the guide book to hostility
a pamphlet of rudimentary teachings;
the principles of tolerance and rebellion and acceptance of human beings
a concoction of suppressed psychotic behavior, quick wit, and center of satirical tease
constantly moving with heavy footsteps and heavier hearts
their minds and bodies plagued with actions from a deserted youth
soul lusting over the naivety of people before self-actualization; how crude
do they call it an existential crisis or the daily life of a agoraphobic nobody
shouts from the depths of caged fears that scrape the oblivious flesh in their brain; a bit gaudy
mother, sister, brother, father how your words crush the knots of comfort that line my internal organs
bleeding from the pores of my screams; streams of moon-beams shooting out my eyes; oh, not again!
stomping our metaphorically spiked toenails against the idealism of pop culture
oh, my, how adolescence is the worst kind of torture
cherry slushies lined with cigarettes to create a whirl-pool of nostalgia
recreational drugs and ironic situations to ease our instinctual sense of proverbial nausea
loud-mouthed demons spawned out of clothes-hangers and emotional turmoil
show up in our nightmares that we nick-name ‘a good place to contemplate suicide’
repeated imagery stacked like flap-jacks in the mouths of blissed-out sociopaths
too self-indulgent to include us in to their personal stories so we can observe, record, and assess
i don’t perceive doctors to be particularly and predominantly just and true
but i one time met a doctor who told me ‘being a teenager is perhaps the hardest thing you could ever do’*
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 10:20 PM UTC
the child recieves his paper
****** backward by the one in front
flip the three pages flippantly
one : intimidating . . two : boring
the third adorned unexpectedly
a longer -than seems can be usually- grown hair with a clump of green root
sprung out and slaughtered, down across the width; stuck above the questions beneath
how could he not have seen?
a pile so viscous and obscene?
does everyone else have one???
are they holding their disgust beneath?
he looked up at the teacher.
A look of vigilance his face bequeathed.
B ut now it sprung out almost pus like
a faint smile,
a teachers calm reprieve
he then leaned back on his chair in comfort
drooping his head back
his nostrils flared now toward the child
the hairs brustling from inside, all locked up in a ***** days remnants
all foul
and long
and dehydrated
like a swamp now sunned crisp; reeds on a stale bank
drawn in he felt uneasy
unable to cease to stare
incased inside the world that spawned
in the swamp that lay up there
in the cavernous orifices there
then he saw the teachers eyes, his gaze it
stuck on him, the teacher began to grin
further back his head leant
his eyes jaundiced
his teeth tanned
his face pale
his grin outstretched and thin
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 6:38 AM UTC
O as I watch, waiting, wondering.
What has spawned this plague?
The mephitic clouds rise, all day,
joining the atmosphere.
A disease unleashed,
let out of the cage.
Allowed to frolic and rage, bringing thoughts to those already afraid.
Spreading further into the outskirts of the desolate plains.
Rapidly growing an apocalypse like a **** unable to pull from the root.
Only solution seem fit.
To continue to change our ways, and never quit,
or allow ourselves to fall into another mesolithic age.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
I think I'm going blind.
I'm under the impression you've disappeared.
That you're gone for good.
That you've eliminated yourself from my retinas in order to escape my mile wide stare.
That you've constructed homes under tombstones hoping I'd mistake you for
A box of under-appreciated skeletal remains
Because all you've ever wanted is to be dead to me.
Like you wanted my eyes to forget about their day job and resort to conceptualized adultery
Because God forbid I commit to an honest day's pay.
I've never intentionally visualized imaginary fabrications.
But the truth is, my eyes do everything but tell the truth.
1. My eyes write monotonous picture books with your face plastered on every single page
Just to recreate your physical beauty time and time again
So the world knows your look tops my mind's best seller list.
2. My eyes climb mountain tops and skinny dip in stormy seas
Because sometimes crazy is the only way I can get you to look at me.
3. My eyes fly hot air balloons carried by the echoes of your soft spoken sentences
As if exhaust pipes could spew such sweet nothings into the night sky.
4. My eyes invade foreign lands with every intention of burning down
Prehistoric villages and discovering your secret hideaway because I too
Want to know how it feels to savagely destroy former sacred territory.
5. My eyes struggle out of bed every morning. Not even
Three shots of espresso can perk my eyes up enough
To allow the radiation you still give off enter my pores.
I think I'm going blind.
Or maybe I just can't see straight.
Or be straight up with you and tell you how it takes every part of me
To not gauge my own eyes out for betraying the rest of my body.
It takes every part of me to admit my misjudgments spawned the downfall of it all.
Because I told you I saw the two of us trekking through unfamiliar lands
With each stride another step towards our destiny.
Because I told you I saw something in your eyes
That gave mine the ability to smile.
Because I told you I saw us redefining what infinity
Looks like to the senseless visionary.
But my eyes don't tell the truth.
I'm going blind.
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 12:05 PM UTC
Hey Jessica, my tinder match
I am looking for a back to scratch
A back to scratch you may now ask?
Yes, a back to scratch!
For from our match may now have hatched
A mutual matching of hatching, back scratching
Without any strings attached!
So swipe right, yes swipe me right
Let Photoshop destroy your night
I’ll be charming, I’ll be polite
But it won’t really matter what I write
For all the signs are in black and white
If you only rely on your thumb, and on your site
An emotionless one night stand will be at their might
You see when you cut people off just based off their look
You may stop at the cover of what is life's greatest book
And instead you’ll be left with twilight, or some crap
The boring type of book that will force you to nap
With nothing but physical beauty filling that gap
Eventually ended by the reality slap
That this relationship was spawned by a ******* app
So Jessica, still wanna scratch my back?
We can start up this mutual back scratching pact?
Celebrating all the common virtues we lack
For me its looks come first, and then next your rack
But enough about me let’s hear about you?
Why are you lonely? And when can we *****
Here’s some stuff about me that is not at all true…
And if I havn’t asked already, when can we *****
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 1:03 AM UTC
7/12/12 16:25pm
At what price does man find favour with God?
Down through the roiling clouds, from heavenly heights to earthly clay,
where scribes had written scrolls of doctrines;
down through old crumbling architraves, temples of cold ideals,
man spawned the Vengeful Word.
With rage of angels,
like effigies of gods, there sprang forth lords and hypocrites;
all claimed to speak for God.
Then, in the maelstrom,
came genocide of innocents, and hellfire fell like rain.
When does a tower become too tall for God?
Out of a clear blue sky came silver harbingers of doom,
where men were writing drafts and spreadsheets;
now crumbling down around them, swathed in hate-begotten fire;
spawned from a vengeful god.
No mortal angels
could save the ones who perished, caught above the line of flame;
while some below survived.
Yet, in the chaos,
sworn enemies in faith came out to save each other's fall.
At what price can man enter Paradise?
High above the minarets, the veiled dome of the sky
students look up with wistful longing;
yearning to be good radicals and cross the lines of fire
to reap heaven's reward.
Hate's vengeful angels
pretenders to the throne of God take many shapes and forms,
while moderates stay quiet;
and with their silence
give passive leave for lunatics to prate at heaven's door.
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 11:28 AM UTC
We are forward open thinkers
we dream of a new
without forgetting what was
With peculiarities spawned eccentricity
to keep us ourselves as one,
like no one
Without urge to be separate
we are oneself
together, we stand alone
Side stepped and vertically diagonal with grace, not trials in stride
From the waking moment routine
each day changes course
with similarities
while optional barriers are welcome
to overcome with effort
And using that effort to affect wisdoms spread and elongate strength
We work for our capacity,
at home we also work,
to make a better day
To create,
To expand
to not keep motionless
our minds
our hands
our brains in bloom.
And think and hold this knowledge tight
at one point it will open the mind of our young, to lose self and to give.
To always give.
Minimize me, I, or mine.
Talk through with question,
regardless of proof, or wrongfulness.
And wonder about laws and why?
We think. We know.
To traverse with love
In between and the seconds linking,
we desire
The ones we are near, can feel without doubt and never wonder if love was emitted.
We will communicate frequently
how they make us whole and have affected us to completion
and reraise when obstacles come towards
With complex strength and wage forward,
insist the double down
Using knowledge, work, perseverance,
and to bring it all home
To positively conquer
...using love.
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 3:35 PM UTC
Hail to Thee, Immortal Three
Knowledge we sing on laud
Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates
Philosophy, to be human awed
Teach through time, consciously
Nod not, what others fraud
Socrates taught, Divine Being
God not of brutal Athens’ passions
Entity of Beauty, Truth Seeing
Goodness unseen in day’s fashions
Soul for unalloyed agreeing
Lessons humanities’ compassion
Talk eternal justice, everlasting life
Socrates’ Sovereign Right of Reason
Clearly mind deceived sense’s strife
Invincible perfection be God’s season
Thus, our key to knowledge ever rife
Priests who find this, absolute treason
No church or Socratic school
A barefoot man roamed to teach
Socrates mocked for looking a fool
His speech not one to simply preach
Plato witnesses a martyr’s drool
Cruel hemlock, words did so breach
Handsome aristocratic youth Plato
Followed Socrates’ Eternal Wisdom
But soon to find his own credo
In Medara to find Euclid and freedom
Egyptian geometry to provide dado
To Plato life, expression; not a system
Eternally an artist, Plato did develop
Philosophic circle in Academus groves
Bring Athens, world knowledge envelop
Discretions of sensations, be not oaths
What man may be, an animal jealous
Plato’s allegorical cave found in droves
As Plato once be Socrates’ disciple
So too, to Plato would Aristotle be
Passing comprehension archetypal
Successions of genius’ visions do see
Aristotle taking it step further, as vital
To science of hands-on discovery
And this is where we see a parting
Of two distinctly opposing philosophies
Plato being at odds, with science starting
Aristotle’s truth, finding no apologies
Things not happening by chance imparting
Frivolity of duopoly, dichotomy to Socrates
But a new era has surely now dawned
Science exploring an invisible atom
And the seen and unseen correspond
So to Aristotle’s, Plato’s, Socrates’ datum
Brilliant new philosophies have spawned
An abstract notion of conceived stratum
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 12:09 PM UTC
With Body pretzled up, skins converged to form
branches of rivers, mouth slack and frozen to
a permanent scowl of delirium and manners-gone,
as many swears dripped from those dry, cracked lips.
One of my mothers – gumshoed from the alley’s way of family.
“Get gumption, girlie, because everybody is full of ****
I remember that lullaby, “A tiny turned-up nose, two lips just like a rose. She sits upon my knee, she means to the world to me.”
I spy the scar on my pinky finger from her cigarette.
Could the King be witness in the Room?
Were those buttons of hollow wood over her eyelids?
Wrung of cries – we didn’t see that coming,
though we heard the flies.
And Age’s stumbling rattle through the hallway.
Do you know who I am?
Do you remember me?
Should the window washer come another day?
This stubborn sovereignty over what is reality – the root beneath the porch, the fog on the windshield.
Loosen the grip on this natural plane,
Please --
Woman of my Childhood, harvester of my manners.
Stand until the grown-ups sit.
Look away and bow your neck.
This was called the boxing match between Industry verses Inferiority.
Not child through birth – no –
but life spawned by those
strung-high fists.
There’s finality in this phone-call.
I heard it happened an hour ago.
Treading grievances and grimaces, picking through a flowerbed only to stroke the weeds.
Lifting boxes of Lead from reality to the Bridge of Dreams.
Frankly, I stole the gumption from your knotted mouth and
still cannot cry.
In a splinter of reason – I cast out the fundamental jibes of sacred hope.
That promise held between dog and owner during business hours.
Except there can be no homecoming.
The sickest liquor on the alleyway fence.
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 7:08 PM UTC
Across the street.
Opposite direction;
Conceit paved with concrete.
Flashback perception.
Across the street.
Anxiety and nicotine
Piercings and red hair
Cigarette guillotine.
One dred behind your ear.
Anxiety and nicotine
Strawberry blonde
Curly or locked?
Wizard's wand spawned
levitation Air blocked.
Strawberry blonde.
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 3:00 PM UTC
If his bed was empty,
where once red poppies
bobbed a sled
downhill.
It became colder
and thin ice grew.
From the starting gate,
they fell,
spawned indifference,
for they were like two horses,
stabled in the face.
Reined for the show.
With blue ribbons in their eyes,
so very prim and proper
in public eyes.
Away, their tongues at war,
fueling the armies,
in their eyes.
He cried the impending emptiness,
warmth and love,
the empty bed.
The pound of fish
on Fridays.
And slices of cake,
where the red poppies
come to thrive
and the sled cherishing
the ride.
Yet.
Blind not to her vices and him.
Their marriage dissolved.
Infidelity in her back pocket
and undoubtedly a bigger sled.
Where are my angels,
he cried so often
the last thirty years
of darkness.
Where unfortunate endings
replaced auspices beginnings
and shadow dancing replaced romance.
See through
a lone wolf distancing from the pack.
Logan Robertson
5/17/2018
May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 5:55 AM UTC
So it would seem,
the only difference
twixt Animal Behavior
and Human Behavior
is a capacity
for written
and spoken
Language.
-
---Epilogue--
According to various 'dictionaries,'
the word "anthrocentric" doesn't exist.
I, however, define it as the same principals of
sexism, ethnocentrism, or nationalism,
but applied to the perception
of a validated stratification of Human Beings
over the entirety of the Web of Life,
rather than to simply
the *** ethnicity or nationality
of another.
I feel
the natural world around us
is far more sacred than we are-
although we are spawned of it.
I feel
it is so much more sacred
due to an absent respect for it
and the other beings
which it hosts so well;
so selflessly.
We **** Sapiens Sapiens*
have defiled our own sanctity
via lack of respect
for ourselves,
let alone others Beings;
Human, and otherwise.
Apparently, that isn't very popular.
So many Egos
would rather depend on
intentionally small sample sizes,
while many Ids
would rather self-preclude
the challenge of self-observation
fore a mere and fleeting
(most likely destructive)
comfort.
I venture to say that is a present form of cowardice.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 5:00 AM UTC
*It resembles a snowy mountain range
That white crumpled sheet
Elegant in its simplicity
A Realistic model
Of peaks and valleys
In my admiration
Of this honest
Piece of art
Artistry spawned from life itself
Dexterity by the cosmos
I nearly miss it
The truth
The veracity of the exhibit
The message
I stop
I study
I look deeper
A torrent of understanding
Pours down my soul
The last morsels of dignity
Greedily gobbled up
By my awkward gaze
A piece of art
Lays still on that hospital bed
Alone*
Oct 6, 2010
Oct 6, 2010 at 12:50 PM UTC
I'm imagining
the pool that spawned you, I am
filling it with rocks
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 9:56 PM UTC
Whilst we destroy what we are,
Another’s suffering does nothing,
Nothing at all to alleviate our pain.
That we in the west live in luxury,
Does nothing either: why should it?
We are spawned from choice,
Conceived via free will, and ******
Dropped into a cradle of filth,
Finally crawling, learning to hate,
Not knowing why, nobody knows why,
Well do they? Do they?
Emerging and ready to die, yes,
Already damaged and broken,
Bereft of the truth of life, sick,
Perishing lost and alone, uncaring,
We the ****** misunderstood,
Chastised, ‘we never had it so good?’
We who inherited the earth, yeah,
We have it good, no struggle, none!
And therein lies our issues, true,
We have no need to fight, have we?
So, we fight ourselves, cutting,
And we live to cause suffering,
Our own agony screamed wildly!
Go on, frown, older generation,
Go on, you know you want to.
Call us, shake your wise heads,
Whilst we destroy what we are.
©Paul M Chafer 2015
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 10:20 AM UTC
*A salmon tear spawned upstream,
and trickled down my cheek.
An empty promise, a broken dream;
a vow kept too weak.
A salmon tear spawned upstream,
drifted down the creek.
With the crowd, against its will,
nothing left to seek.
An ocean beckoned the new-spawned tear.
a billion drops just like it.
A distant hope that seemed so near,
futile would it be to fight it.
When tears mixed tears ,
from frowns came grins.
Sadness sang for joy,
it sang a hymn, true from within,
tale of girl and boy.*
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 3:39 PM UTC