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Look at the white walls shine.
The black curtains,
The grey clothes.
The door is open,
Doesn’t it look lovely?

Switch.

Now the walls are black,
The curtains shine white for all to see,
The clothes remain.
The door is shut,
Don’t you dare try to peak.

Switch.

Open door.
Welcome to my nice clean home,
No scratches on the walls,
Not a speck of dust in sight.

What do you mean…
I… I am sorry…
I just had to clean.
Yes sir, I know it is spotless but…
It really did need cleaning..
I’m not..
I understand.
I’ll be out in a moment.
Closed door.

Switch.

I am cleaning as fast as I can.
It is all going too quickly.
Only moments before another open door
And the walls are black again.
They see gleaming white through the curtains,
They think it is ***** and span.
Little do they know my little arms are scrubbing
Faster than I can comprehend.
Open Door.

No Switch.

Not this time.

He has seen..
The walls drip with ***** water
I couldn’t clean up in time
What will he say?
What should I do?

Silence.

He picks up a sponge
Without saying a word.
Starts scrubbing with me,
This is not his first time hiding the darkness.

Switch.

Each day from then on,
We scrubbed each others rooms.
No one would see the dirt on our hands.
No one.
And in the night, when we were all alone..

Switch.

Darkness again,
And this time,
We sit in it together.
And for the first time,
We do not have to hide.
2-1-15
E Townsend Oct 2015
Two linked sugars make up a disaccharide. And that's
what we are. Simple, plain
table sugar, dully passed back
and forth to sweeten our taste.
Sometimes I'll accidentally switch
the shakers for breakfast, hand

you the salt, and you hand
me a spice so harsh that
my tongue curls at the unexpected switch.
I do not prefer the boring, plain
predictable exchange of taste
I followed for so many years back.

So I turn my back
to you, hold up my hand
as a shield of what you would say next. "Have you lost your taste,"
you say, anger overshadowing your faded love, "that
I've grown plain
to you?" I knew then to make the switch

into freedom from the same scene replayed. I get up and turn the light switch
off and leave you in the dark. "When you get back
from work," I say to the plain
dining room, "you will find this ring off my hand."
I can barely see your eyes glowing in the only source of morning light. "That's
absurd," you exclaim. "All because of how I want my cereal to taste?"

I shake my head. "It's not the physical taste. It's the taste
of you that makes me want to switch
out of this marriage. You aren't giving me what I want, and that
is my reason to back
out of this. You offered your hand
to hold mine, to support me, but it's all so plain."

I continue, "And isn't it plain
to see that my taste
in relationships lack passion? I give out my hand
to anything that flicks the switch
of love. You give me the nudge to turn it back
off." With that

I exit the house and try to restore my taste the way I had it back
to my actual preferences. I switch from the plain
safety and run with the risk that I never had at hand.
this is a sestina and I realize that I freaking hate sestina. I hate repeating words so many times
delilah Aug 2019
sometimes i feel like tv static
an odd kinda buzz
a little bit numb
sinking feeling in my gut
switch the channel
i feel numb
switch the channel
i can't feel my hands
switch the channel
i can't breath
switch the channel
i can't break through the screen
switch the channel
i'm grasping for air
switch the channel
switch
switch
switch
i'll being waking up as the same tv static tomorrow
Channa Weird Jan 2015
With a switch
I turn you on
The sway of my hips
When I lick my lips
The way I move
Completely calming to you
Must portray confidence
Must stimulate the minds
Of these guys that think they have the world wrapped around their finger
Leave a everlasting linger
Leave your senses tense
With just a switch
I could go on
All day long
With just a twist
I could trip you into another realm of infatuation
Get your imagination cultivated
Stimulated
With just a switch
I shift from side to side
The meanest glide
And the “****, how she get in those jeans?” type thighs
To no surprise
I turn you on
With just a twist of my hip
The way that I shift
Beautiful backside
Incredibly thick thighs
Oh
You look so surprised
Did I turn you on?
With the hips that were graciously given to me
With just a switch
I send these guys on sensational trips
Like a light switch
I turn ‘em on
Ghelli Jul 2015
i'm looking for the switch
that i know must be there

it's like groping for the light in an unfamiliar room
all i can feel is the rough and rusty edge of an old filing cabinet
of a mouldy moving box,
and so i move deeper into the room
and trip over all the things i threw in there

but i still have to look at them

why didn't i have the foresight to clear a path? and why can't i find the switch?

i don't want to feel so powerfully. i need to find the switch and turn it off. Rip the nubbin out of the wall and eat it like a pill. Class A prescription for the pain. This is why i avoid making connections. i have a weak immune system and i catch feelings like the plague so that all i see are stars and bars.

i feel awash in an ocean of inadequacy and you ask me how i can't see what you see and it's because i can't find that ******* switch. when i think about it i fall about in stitches, while she wishes i wouldn't worry her but how can i even begin to relate when all i've ever felt is alone.

Brief flashes of warmth, and I can already feel the heat fading. i can read you too well and i can see too many steps ahead. so that i charge bravely into that new world knowing full well that in the end i will be alone again and you will have moved above me. all i can see are stars and bars.

i wish i could find the switch.

nick
i can:

flip a switch
just for you;
sometimes i do,
forget how to

flip a switch;
one day it's on,
then it's off,
and i am gone.

i get lost
when in love;
lose myself
to some kind of

dark energy
taking hold of me;
flip it off
then i am free.

something inside
tugging away,
causing me
to toss and sway -

with so many
wordly distractions,
and so many
wild interactions;

with such embrace
and so much joy,
we have no reason
to set decoys.

you fell in love,
it was with me;
why can it be so
hard to see?

flip a switch
until it's habit
give me patience;
i'll give you practice.

don't look away,
and i will not
look away
like i was taught.

you have me,
battles won;
no one else
can overcome.

flip a switch,
i will do.
flip a switch,
for me and you.
Nat Lipstadt Feb 2016
~

The Great Switch Off

louder in its silence,
than a flicked light switch
in the midst of a  midnight-darkened house

more crackling than the slowest
of lasting gunshot resounding re-soundings,
of the ice pond white coverlet shredding itself apart,
by its own voluble volition

I hear the switch
switching off,
the giving-in, taking over,
the surrender negotiations
swift concluded with just those you know,
two words

let the anguish languish,
the discipline,
become someone else's disciple,
just let me be

well familiar this on-off moment,
well recalled from all prior nine lives,
exactly the where and the when was,
I gave up on trying,
but never needed the why

cause the why was inadmissible,
tampered evidence, dampened down,
tainted lies and justifies

tomorrow I'll restart, re-equip,
cause the catching up with lost sleep
a minimum week,
to require, to reacquaint,
with the on-demand, life props
for properly slacking off


the oldest loudest sound
you have and will ever make,
the crack of self-deception,
when your mind lies to yourself,
this latest, greatest switch off is only
temporary


~
Feburary Nineteenth, Two Thousand and Sixteen
5:49 am
nyc
Marshall Gass Apr 2014
No need to flick the **** out of this monster
standing on a podium above our heads
looking down in distaste at what we, the poor, can do
or not do! Fodder, we are, trampled into stacks, rolled
into wretched bales and stacked skyhigh
on machines that run through  precision.

Once done, they stand above and lord
over their handiwork as we
the minions, muscled in on our lives
struggle to keep the factories going
feeding the fat bellies and guns
that will silence others across the thin divide
of territorial useless wars

Once in a while the fucktories will open
and spew many newborn into the guts
and glory for the motherland where birth
and bread are numbered and named with
berets and bonhomie, pretend play
at camaraderie. We perish unwept
at the crack of dawn and gunfire in long lines
on a battlefield where ideals are shouted
and gas chambers await dissent.

Driven like oxen to the national abbatoir
hair, teeth and nails collected, bones crushed
for gelatine soup and flesh shredded
for fertilisers to grow more cattle
to be fed more hay
to man the factories and fucktories
to make more children
to polish the forces
to line up and lament our lot

Switch off the power.
Switch off the power
Switch off the power
Switch off the power..........

Author Notes
The revolution takes a step back to WW11.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
the darkness enclosing me,
as the light switch flipped.
walking blindly across the room,
feeling my way to the bed where,
you take my hand and finish guiding me,
next to your side.

the darkness still wraps about me,
as the switch flips,
and the path to the bedside hasn't changed;
but there's no outstretched fingers to grab onto,
to kidnap me from reality,
and guide me to my dreams.
When there's no one to wrap you in their arms anymore in the dark.
James M Vines Sep 2015
Everything has a button, or what some call a switch. I am no exception. As a child I found that my switch was used often, when I would not listen or behave. My grand mother would pluck it from a Peach Tree or any available bush. Sometimes the switch would make me go fast and sometimes it would make me go slow. Sometimes it would make me run in circles and others just roll around on the floor. The switch was not pleasant, but when my switch was tripped, I would always have a reaction, as it corrected me for what I did wrong.
like know just time mind life feel world lost say we're things think love there's does people night away way thought got words long reality want better left make end eyes day man human dark experience remember really right death memory going place high good live city thoughts soul meaning great pain home sky believe shall change living oh fall light choice god consciousness existence years cause hard feeling thinking fear times 'cause dreams ask alive heart need past felt days dream sensation truth true use power knowledge wrong stars understand baby tell state thing face wave broken old you'll wave new broken nature you'll **** mental look far ah drug moment best ago air lose sleep dare try leave beautiful blue born lives escape sublime doesn't body dawn friends waiting feels young daze game control perception gone story mean sun head given writing act difference reason poetry philosophy psyche little trying touch deep greatest wonder choose drugs exist we'll moments score hold play set run self forget coming hope word future dead wish burn music emotion rain stop gaze pleasure glass one's what's lies sense wake hit remain real work bad stay open brain art seek space present happy spent acid pill social we've they're half-light used land held gotta help lie path finally listen actually longing rave water cold seeking caught energy reflection information anymore venturous goes came red hide start truly hand evil divine subtle matter kind lonely yes told eternity keeps line black edge ego context dusk horizon gonna spiritual tripping dimension data die white **** seen means care getting saw places sure freedom looking hurt fool wind flow search chance la took broke existential summer content flowing belief praise empyrean empathy discovery chemical aeon couldn't who's turn forth bit question eye judgement pray passion sound personal worth memories sanity accept universe embrace lack knows free makes rise language decide consider temporal society gain wander conscious stuff religious comprehend particle psychedelic metaphysics you've entheon absurdia entactus maybe ready fate realize family meant return perfect learn miss spirit doubt rest loved minds health moving mortal bring expression sleeping cast lines purpose quiet known strange infinite king months madness haze depths ate party patterns oneself psychedelion inside guess crowd later silent clear soft breath hours hate dust forgotten arms drink fast year war longer close searching morning ashes calm beauty darkness different justice fell friend shadows knowing fine youth heavy standing sweet enjoy explain vain simple chasing hidden ends smoke gold heaven follow point person breaking necessary today relief action cool possible bass generation lying listening machine yeah substance hath engine forlorn problem subject intangible study effort quantum definitions dopamine psychedelics we'd sigma cybran apotheon isn't empathion clouds practice gave warm wanted stand poem wait storm met asleep course skies crime surely grow depression write loose fair ecstasy knew dreaming humanity waves share taken simply faith playing sands view fix winter afraid began wise welcome comprehension sought late big zero table says bliss changed repetition everybody blame unto maze understanding mr explore states ignore addiction venture define teenage american humans billion she's wasn't 'til sonder walk smile tonight speak dance skin blood breathe fears illuminate worse peace girl crave easily emotions feelings **** having force ways lets catch meet hair doors worlds hearts destroy heard walking near hurricane wisdom lights second suicide ignorance fresh waking sadness grand happiness appear rising scared save join adventure neon outside alike liberty particles wonderful compounds killed somebody grace merely closer company desert master twisted realm respect trance ridiculous *** exile pondering noble dangerous absurd nation progress culture contradiction perceive irish urban phenomena cyberspace scoreboard psi ain't you'd mydriasis entheogenesis **** ones taste throw watch painting room alas lay history spend apart sea staring poet fact cut smell happened admit river wasted brought leaves making answer sorry glow learned decided grasp breeze bed begin pretty floor lived sole sand cure awake sight tears barely kept running safe roam willing prefer mist heads asked prose wandering sounds imagine looked hour growing recognize soon falls mirror treat ***** brother climb hero problems granted digital proud changes birth quest age spring aware doing witness names amazed ****** despite takes condition intoxication level beginning worked pupils decision object insanity rhythm medium quality weather physical false process strife individual journey doth code effects abandoned channel judge notions moral swear experienced greater chain natural thunderous cleanse determine shivering hallowed plus reckon caused adolescence media superposition addict connection indigo ethics survived definition reasoning internet feedback vibrancy serotonin cyclone hacker sardonic surreality virtuality here's he's sunyata temporality ******'s empathos apotheotelos flash shining green forever anger carry son moon selfish written supposed feed ya quite loop hooked pure feet hole paper flag sick voice burning attention fly utter wicked tremble endless form infinity talking piece shores verse chest rules food placed plan hallelujah called gun fading drinking emotional measure inspiration suffering belong west read sly instead bear erase furious shame conclusion drunk roll ******* depressed calls taught died defined tire everyday answers sacred acknowledge speaks perfection games ground spoke stood motion sway keeping pretend hell movement magic park key spin kick sake jump hanging animal begins orange streetlights fade crazy honest warp puppet chained survive apathy chains claim prey science diamonds begging grip tale hang powerful wonderland heal dealing plant twice painful daylight mastery desires recall school conviction miracle yearn empyreal weekend actual court value chalk hurts humankind rabbit eggs potential offers temporary pupil atlas nostalgia serenity happens yearning ponder hypothesis worthy witnessed ideas azure tools alpha curiosity consume singularity typhoon revelation stimulant liberate application projection criminals communication throes fraternity enables actuality starshine ethos apotheosis sardonicism aren't mind's teleology empatheon entheos hear mydriatic transcendention fight tear ash minutes wanna taking nights forgot tales lest desire lust darkest single shine slow allow destruction money comes anxiety contemplate nostalgic offer continue happen ink brings brave created holding create thunder produce talk sail philosopher creating distant illuminating drive dancing ease wishing higher pass excuse figure essence angel hopes child ahead sigh using door vast loves awaits strong tornado ok sorrow immortal ghosts certain remains stained insane reached lot discovered plain poison streets killing ending tried session vs poor woke stare watching grass slick emptiness falling box painter series children virtues awareness clean rolling reach advice heavens rend half cherish bay started relax focus laughed ashamed fiend melody drop exhale void occurs beneath win chose robes thrall shield ended sons normal sunrise road forged onward burden actions unlike colors curious street observe chosen silence shades returns technology race vengeance swept bag civilization strive reconcile trouble cloud described replaced substances whilst finding euphoria dear chemistry events deal message eternal masses beliefs vision apparent honestly dr seeing idea domain soar books frames rule law pleasures eat dread bare blaze raise compassion kindness wandered objects expressed sin declare mistake smoking drum heavenly honor lands fountain renew happening aspect gotten issues divinity teach matters pills goal follows significant job romantic gazed envelope elements identity group sell foolish lucid dimensions brothers owe education november difficult recognition express properties glitter considering illusion appreciate discover resonance derived transcendental buzz notion risk scares riot rainy teaching drizzle direct experiences elation normality quote evolution versus lamplight method reflective endeavour cloth eats teenagers eventually haul club result relative breed threat subjective concerning solstice interpretations allows rational ultimately basis aligned numbness hypocrite charade morality dope chaser continuum undead exploits aeons research freeman appropriate ion ****** teachings dilation binge beatific intuitive transcendent escapism psychedelia metaphysical beta untitled mescaline otherworldly dreampt contextual experiential symbiosis codex dissociation cybernetic weren't life's let's mirror's well-being any-more entheogenic junkiedom signifiers mescalito zero-summing won't 'pataphysics window million pair logic alright whisper stone walls notice fun picture lips whispering dying wanting hands pull remained pieces poems built push house choices united turns blessed lucky drifted sane demons demon external slowly worst angels town needs needed drifting watched abyss crimson liquid arch planes add souls questions leads flicker thousand swallow note strings player despair offering realms drift caressing enter gentle closed bodies letter beat gorgeous indescribable smiling laughing probably pick grown shade precious shooting background yesterday woman ocean sober lead clothed ghost flows turned conscience alphabet contain spun luck atmosphere vagabond completely surprise rock creed drawn book autumn rays spinning bottle early regrets lake kids sad acceptance stuck melancholy formed slip draw clearly scars collapse del sit satisfied jungle realized bunch favourite laid fit breaks notes plans anyways spoken produced echoes den trees steps ugly cover explained glance stole gazing current raised travel scratch haunts played women apathetic conquest naught goodbye midnight asking passed waste loss fallen rapture absolute positive walked mistakes lately bound patience nurture fog stranger men wants prevent forfeit asks arose easy quick sing allowed prove pitch mad closest deeply tides praying root poets sentence pulse nightmare deem coffee commit golden insert mock innocent whispers offend low tea strength captured attack stories baseline joint innocence neural chemicals plains blanket dripping reflect blink concepts psychosis plucked tidal radiance roar bathed wonders thrown moves suffer unspoken exists glad shroud plunge scorn bane asunder enslaved harvest possibly fail allure drank danger unsaid veil gravity assume sum receive bloom reveal odd whispered likes news fractured wisely gathered seraphim intention wrought plane weeks mere haunting aspects ha distance hungry eternally swaying eden foretold breach advance pains balance design event forgive significance confidence error alter paying unreality cost chronology thoroughly resembles vivid steal poetic illegal understands maelstrom temples amidst perpetual lesson pathos behold reborn produces scale heaviness ascend talked **** forsake valuable andor relinquish dismiss usually kid nervous sort fierce disguise demands abandon encourage avoid minor relentless identify loneliness web alchemy cosmic rhyme coil suffered basking dropped standard spark mates hearth swore steam myth native wonderfully occasionally solace ventures determination galaxy opportunity justify political prophecy steadfast healthy forsaken chapter facebook worried ex struggle shatter gentleman including convinced profit comfortable twine deity responsible adrift sage fortune immortality theft damage examine deliverance ultimate immersion response access test physics magnitude occur member relation acts theme signal shivers mire coin planet anybody vicious nirvana pendent applause glimmering benediction consuming glint refrain renewal myths manifest nocturnal reflections limitations teenager naturally material matrix columbine giveth inseparable singular proving lifestyle coherence humane ideals starlight sincerely prudence underworld infamous perspective presented pretends excitation viewed regard enhanced zen reverence arcadia theory realization typing construct statement subjugated exploration vote hazy reaper **** streetlight artificial trespass definitive device exceed complex finality surreal petrol proposition inspiring totality originally recurring narcotic cometh juxtaposition reckoning represent inability proclamation syntax continuity nevermind avoidance irrelevant veracious arcadian commence rumination aesthetics ubiquitous nonetheless variable exploit experiencing underlying villain cola rictus ketamine corporeal electronic graciously input cannabis manifestation comprised socially proportionate insofar ethical hedonism junkies vicissitudes cognitive determining psychiatrist palindrome lucidity remix reduction dissociative reclamation detract aer enhancement intoxicants qualia world's shouldn't wouldn't other's nothing's man's summer's today's who'd everybody's y'all 'the all's t'was ethereality thought's drug's noumenon skystruck shroom alexithymia transhuman you- -the in-between self-sufficiency -one zed's 15 11 liminality immanence adrenergic symbionts sublimeoblivious medina's buckfast psychonautes determinative serotonergic psychedelos skyglow cyclica 5-ht2a noumena pharmahuasca jeans role proper loud aching grows concrete cruel strains conversation ill paint wet couple calling mouth kiss senses case keeper torn pause middle setting whats pulling bone reminds likely remind wrath karma reading sunlight prone ***** phrase enemy familiar levels careful source adolescent small straight driving courage rush flaw suppose starting deny stayed weary worship trust turbulent troubled letting absence leaving wearing college proclaim spirits gather ear lady hey garden boys winning alcohol pay foolishly banish song cross encounters plays belonging famous shift burst alice tunes hood flickers glimpse gleam fleeting grant ride deja vu anticipation spot switch boyfriend order faded wrapped definitely short fish beach clock older dusted block station anchor longest deserve passing mark awhile lovers muse ache island totally existing comfort pride phone greek apollo bleeding unknown psychic powder remembrance tree train helps painted gambling tide tired acting blow build apologies silver fabric especially suspense band cascade flawless heat hunger nearly numb bread bright minus wide looks differently dive beating veins settle turning couch holds saying impression suspension meaningless plastic rich pointless occupied brief tiger sticks stones mask cake bitter concentrate drown forbidden shell dry walks unless regardless moved type shirt lone burns songs negative momentary staying police swing unseen ability analysis worries determined dreamt sink hopelessly chances abuse palm week existed ignorant blind dice sheep agree joke spy spill odds immeasurable *** pushing wanderlust softly midst presents blade guided ripped round ball lovely rhythms beats cars glaze wash fates evening vein gloss juvenile sides faces graces month circular rung wheel rises permeates father supreme portal liked rip fades october sitting grin showing surrounded explored opened confused wall quietly deftly scene sighs lingering radio altered evaporated suns dreamed vibration important appetite exactly devil inhabiting brains ordinary beckons constant local organic soothing linger meditation moonlight lads height ethereal simplicity kinda cigarette suggest violence blew bombs arise trips predict surface guy movements grey car stepped large bank forward landed lied ancient purely crash direction inspired release warned melodic rhythmic telling mysticism blues riddle blur floating drama neck lover nerve poisonous glare factory wage character suburbia escaped gates suspended followed pierced hall marks ruled influence functioning contained losing stopping effect electronica relate fed temper facts dependent malleable convey bent delve horror wolves won lacking certainly fooled temple oblivious watches extension molecular random subtlety rem price sear covers truths judging stage frost conditions victory millennium realised confront trickster eve daughter defines awoke terror remembere
Composed on 00:53, 21/09/2016 using Hello Poetry's 'Words' algorithm. We don't assume this means something.
Francisco DH Feb 2013
You can't turn me on to warm up the room so you can feel the warmth inside

Neither can you turn me off so the room can be engulfed in darkness. So you can go find another room to light up.

I am not some light switch that can be toyed with by your child-like hands to keep your child-like mind entertained.

No, i am not a light switch.

I am either a light that stays on forever for you cause i am the only light you need.

Or i am nothing at all. The one lightbulb the needs fixing. The one light for someone other than you.

Cause i am no light switch.
Francisco DH Mar 2013
I am no light switch you can turn on and off

ON  
To feel the warmth inside your could damp heart
To brighten up the room so you can place your things ever so neatly inside my heart

OFF
When the heat becomes too much for you
When you need to flee to another room to turn that light on

ON
When you need to heat the sweet words that fall from my sore lips
When you need me to illuminate your day cause you had a bad day

OFF
To make sure you keep the price of the light low
Cause you don't want to invest too much in this "love"
To evade the light cause you see that I deserve more than this

I am tired of your child like hands turning me on and off
to entertain your child like mind
This light bulb is growing weak and I am growing tired of changing the bulb constantly

I think soon I will tear the switch from the wall and cut the wires and just leave
I hate this light switch between you and me
MeanAileen Sep 2018
I can't wait to get you out of my life
no one has ever been so cruel...
no one has ever been so heartless,
or made me feel like such a fool.
I thought that I really loved you
I was in love with your other face...
the one I haven't seen in so long,
the one that vanished without a trace.
Oh, I just can't wait till you get up & go
and leave without saying goodbye...
leaving me alone, dearly departed,
leaving me alone while I cry.
You're sadistic, selfish and hurtful,
you're a bully and you've taken aim...
then point your fingers in my face,
but **** that! I won't take the blame!!
Yes, I wish that you were just a ghost
of the worst mistake I ever made...
of the one who ripped my soul apart
while I pulled the pin of his granade.
You treat random dogs better then me
even though you say I'm such a *****...
I just need to get you out of my life,
like Boost Mobile, it's time I switch.
Another one he'll never see....
It's just me venting anyway
like know just time mind feel life world say people things lost we're does love think there's away long way thought night got words want better day human left right remember man dark end reality memory experience going make really eyes place 'cause good death tell great feeling soul home high consciousness live pain thoughts fear understand fall thing city sky believe god meaning thinking lose change oh felt hard ask heart times years shall need past light living existence choice use dreams power days cause poetry talking state we'll alive knowledge **** true moment little hope old wrong mental stars wave ago gone broken look brain dream far given truth feels head you'll best sensation baby try leave forget young sleep face stop escape blue dare drug lives wish doesn't drugs work earth new acid game nature bad sublime gods break beautiful ah writing hold born trying coming friends hold writing ah space daze burn body reason rain real moments wonder music memories exist psyche control waiting dawn future act philosophy word choose emotion lies deep one's difference self score truly perception actually finally what's story sure spent play happy greatest help start used lie took listen touch run belief fool glass hurt we've gaze goes cold set seek they're yes information anymore longing lonely qualia social land water afraid kind getting came dead hit present keeps gotta pleasure reflection free rave line held pray path sense art black half-light wake question quiet remain longer pill stay course open ego matter places worth lack horizon saw dusk beauty hand makes energy looking gonna data told seeking die **** seen subtle bit caught venturous means freedom yeah divine eternity empathy later rise perfect minds edge comprehend spiritual write couldn't evil care ashes summer knew turn content context accept existential white red sound chance who's consider hide judgement friend 'til realize dimension cast gave tripping praise health la enjoy search universe winter broke empyrean gain family personal spirit flowing wanted point poem lying wander loved wind knowing sleeping rest stuff doubt flow began embrace months knows discovery society hate aeon darkness chemical surely searching meant oneself infinite share forgotten fell late person religious conscious *** you've teenage blame eye instead different clear bring follow known decide forth strange cool stand we'd miss psychedelic passion today wasn't language catch purpose patterns tonight subject madness temporal ready simple sanity asked entheon absurdia entactus psychedelics metaphysics humans particle unto skies inside arms drink smoke bass youth breath listening close depths intangible expression mortal nostalgia practice return loose maybe dancing shadows king war answers morning silent dust ****** party generation near judge define asleep quite machine lines moving learn hath fate ate crowd standing haze guess brought certain fair read ways hours irish scared fine reckon possible ain't year psychedelion ******* apotheon substance isn't study bliss selfish ends warm dopamine explain fix addiction culture respect wisdom calm hurricane problem contradiction heaven forlorn vain gold sweet hidden effort fast she's breaking changed engine faith dance maze alas girl sigma watch grand heavy justice wait tried doors appear phenomena definitions somebody ignore feelings process sonder cybran soft depression chasing taken throw answer action relief having wandering compounds quantum necessary effects empathion ethos begin everybody rising clouds emotions indigo falls ecstasy fresh american walking glow outside speak force grow physical says view voice happiness shame sought age understanding lay individual billion explore crave pretty lights comprehension tears big sands crime waves taught forever venture adolescence welcome humanity comes zero storm wise claim swear sounds pass **** met he's internet mr table company repetition heard playing ***** mirror lets awake sorry doing dreaming states pondering ridiculous simply greater heal hear natural mydriasis mydriatic substances fades asking measure worse scoreboard destroy erase blood leaves worlds abandoned skin twisted walk grace smile fading illuminate hearts bed food ignorance admit drunk spring exile apart killed talk master meet waking chose neon adventure join **** mist aren't breathe psi laughing feet river trance wonderful floor hair desire breeze birth desert fade looked urban continue nation probably second belong willing alike criminals progress cyberspace sole survive names pills fears beginning digital you'd sadness easily depressed perceive surreality poets merely remains sober closer prose fact growing died save insanity defined session soon realm empyreal taste suicide science skins quality peace raise ashamed azure quit yearn piece notions absurd noble liberty entheogenesis reckoning feedback particles object reconcile baseline chain sardonic false weather hallowed intoxication wasted ******'s here's express cover green witness anger treat sacred pure cure ethics code objects level happen room addict smell fun climb pupils mere ok quest roam park meaningless form hour reasoning cyclone laugh nostalgic inspiration takes attention drop written sigh hole statement sand keeping thunderous sight despite grasp lived called drinking west heads spoke daylight staring song calls hell shivering kept recognize granted weekend problems decided aware happened hacker forgive sea key single moral sway definition caused connection channel difficult media strife dangerous ones cleanse imagine running utter ground spend vibrancy trees changes rhythm everyday group deal foolish hurts anxiety painting proud brother crazy amazed value temporality decision journey spinning making ha acknowledge learned scars apotheosis sort serotonin poet safe experienced potential lucky sunyata condition poor witnessed history doth barely pretend taking hero superposition plus suffering prefer offer won't medium empathos essence events reflect apotheotelos actual determine house issues worked begging virtuality swore gleaming sly gentleman wicked abyss feed lands tea moon miracle honest streetlights tale lust nights early chained allow placed life's actions emotional plant plan drizzle speaks spin hypocrite conviction watching rules jump application chains forged angel fail reflections lot illuminating flag grip fly sick wonderfully create freeman shine job supposed eggs draw pupil dripping tremble mescaline singularity subjective darkens alpha needed atlas orange discover rabbit warp joint wonderland perfection ponder souls silence ahead roll magic ease bag sorrow escapism sake chest magnitude chaser cloud infinity replaced revelation survived vs carry yearning school slip games begins curiosity heavens powerful typhoon furious theory hypothesis apathy serenity mind's marks window humankind cybernetic fraternity liberate cut movement excuse stopped thunder tire apparent mastery occurs motion paper masses throes falling race hanging bear follows sardonicism endless burning idea ideas burden court ya verse consume kick method stood temporary flash realized eat kindness occur advice shades properties shores hang shining ink rolling minutes street deem tools autumn empatheon entheos reach echoes remix diamonds gets worthy identity thoroughly stuck happens recall conclusion choices fiend dealing finding gun son stimulant experiencing depth twice starshine whilst chosen thereof hooked confused enables painful desires serotonergic teleology prey loop wishing relation neural animal hallelujah ultimately projection communication actuality significant experiences remind transcendention notion proposition works illusion puppet offers chalk series occasion calling degrees ended sin figure slick ending ash sentence glance rend november eve drum rainy destruction romantic drawn shadow observe ghosts bodies wandered atmosphere box familiar children honor road serve beliefs strong avoid lessons returns poison relax exhale whispered intention liquid stare dope needs ****** smoking club relative glitter reached fractured stones junkiedom aspect ketamine heavenly scares domain excess robes vast euphoria grass thrall elation buzz renew dr waste let's morality wanna bottle immortal owe intuitive wouldn't teachings transcendent nocturnal education eternal divinity drive aligned illegal lamplight sell sail insomnia curious beatific seeing insane continuum kiss beta void soar roar fog basis **** town cost regrets appropriate brave threat using emptiness fountain short stole shield riot shade ghost numbness stained steam dreampt october ion derived hazy money message sing quote metaphysical scene swept plain colors nirvana alright unlike dear low teens nonetheless pick considering teenagers beneath door electronic kids build pulse teaching kid mistake teach tear contextual political civilization vision dissociation completely tells normal nevermind raised brings laughed melody spot streets holding coffee praying violence appreciate vengeance law trust exploits slowly trouble mirror's refrain compassion eats recognition discovered blaze otherworldly pieces darkest angst brothers sit win buckfast vicious binge breaks undead forgot demands able notice lucid dimensions evolution sunrise plans philosopher killing produce working cloth produced painter gazing favourite track bunch haul arrives started chemistry prevent awaits definitive strive versus rule dread bare slow stayed onward altered helps lifestyle losing followed woke fight event innocence charade child ventures higher y'all acceptance pay any-more bay vicissitudes codex cannabis pleasures planes doses awareness steal beat zero-summing narcotic lest strength matters reading easy sons drift solstice half formed normality weren't hungry hopes declare research tales envelope regret tired breed release honestly haven't it'll blow entheogenic stories amidst insofar technology direct binary pushing gotten patience danger symbiosis dilation gleam untitled risk remembering aeons contemplate suppose allows goal certainly virtues well-being popular regard result tornado mescalito usually distant creating skyglow behold manifest psychedelia representation endeavour excitation transcendental resonance odd growth hedonism possibly focus proper assert formation described interpretations reflective determination rational consuming cherish expressed pathos psychoactive eventually significance dissociative strings author experiential specific oxytocin loves glimpse frames loneliness elements created 'pataphysics craft betrayal typical built wall wonders concerning critique signifiers books failing assume effect 'auld subject-object lethe scorn wants shroud understands enhanced ascend tides finality collapse lake reclamation beach proclamation justify junkies hood teen streetlight caressing lips other's comprised harvest midnight blink aching lesson responsible native fortune mistakes nurture grown healthy test mock especially badly boring walked gorgeous innocent villain giveth benediction stone rictus nightmare skystruck insignificance struck **** nothing's thrown unspoken den shatter loss subjugated angels myth fallen demon temples reborn irrelevant thousand clothed plains whispering insert telling everybody's ultimate expand immortality small rapture bound dry comedown starlight whispers contained watched attack mechanism questions palindrome perpetual surreal theme perspective bane heathen basking singular physics sighs rhyme deity sincerely goodbye fit asunder naught comfort adrift -the radiance plunge rock planet twine applause current enhancement zen profit terrible ill weary leaving fierce alchemy luck speed opportunity men arose prophecy steadfast captured sage demand weird estates gathered distance all's foretold sold wrath kinda relentless advance coil anybody columbine ocean drown spoken ancient eden wet blessed crimson concepts yesterday evening deeply whisper flicker enter book apathetic streetlamps trespass spun turned clean underworld disguise viewed despair tunes melancholy reverence unsaid noise o' groups turning swallow dropped lead confident veracious offend talked switch teenager shouldn't paying allure variable humane inspiring ex 11 matrix flickers offering receive signal news chant exhaustion access background commence summer's arcadia deja vu complex realization vivid stick sublimeoblivious deliverance belonging creed symbionts pendent sane smiling rumination plane glint resembles conversation web corporeal solace theft burned they'll sensations shivers satisfied enslaved mire comfortable shattered arch medina's fragmented plead achieve woman stage swaying dismiss entire numb lord type chapter infamous conquest aspects proving leads bloom floating precipitation artificial renewal spill beating midst petrol mad hands exploit movements examine women sublimation occurred eternally notes dizziness perceptive 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Composed on 01:33, 27/02/2017 using Hello Poetry's 'Words' algorithm. We still don't assume this means something.
Zeeb Jul 2015
Hotrod
Verse I

Wrenches clanging, knuckles banging
A drop of blood the young man spilt
A new part here, and old part… there
A hotrod had been built!
A patchwork, mechanical, quilt

Feelings of excitement not unlike those of Christmas mornings long past paid visit to the young man, his head under a raised hood, hands occupied, the job nearing completion.  Did building that Lionel train-set so long ago form some type of pattern in his brain, now being so pleasurably served?  The good feelings would dissipate though, as quickly as they came, as he cursed himself for stripping a bolt, or cursed someone else for selling him the wrong part, or the engineer whose design goals obviously did not consider “remove and replace”.  He cursed the “gorilla” that never heard of a torque-wrench, the glowing particle of **** that popped on to the top of his head as he welded, the metal chip he flushed from his eye, and even himself for the burn he received by impatiently touching something too soon after grinding.  He, and his type, cursed a lot, but mostly to their selves as they battled-on with things oily, hot, bolted, welded, and rusty – in cramped spaces. One day it was choice words for an “easy-out” that broke off next to a broken drill bit that had broken off in a broken bolt, that was being drilled for an easy out.    Despite the swearing, the good and special feelings, feelings known only to those with a true capacity for this type of passion, would always return, generally of a magnitude that exceeded the physical pain and mental frustration of the day, by a large margin.   Certifiably obsessive, the young man continued to toil dutifully, soulfully, occasionally gleefully, sometimes even expertly, in his most loved and familiar place, his sanctuary, laboratory… the family garage.

And tomorrow would be the day.
Fire extinguisher? “ Right there”
Battery? “Charged and connected”
Neutral?  “yes”
Brake?  “Set”
And with hard learned, hard earned expertise and confidence, in this special small place, a supremely happy and excited young man commanded his creation to life.

Threw  a toggle, pressed a switch
Woke up the neighbors with that *******

The heart of his machine was a stroked Chevy engine that everyone had just grown sick hearing about.  Even the local machine shop to which the boy nervously entrusted his most prized possession had had enough.  “Sir, I don’t want to seem disrespectful, but from what I’ve read in Hot Rod Magazine, you might be suggesting a clearance too tight for forged pistons…” then it would be something else the next day.   One must always speak politely to the machinist, and even though he always had, the usual allotment of contradictions and arguments afforded to each customer had long run out – and although the shop owner took a special liking to the boy because, as he liked to say, “he reminds me of me”, well, that man was done too.  But in the end, the mill was dead-on.  Of course from the start, the shop knew it would be; that’s almost always the case; it’s how they stay in business - simply doing good work.  Bad shops fall out quickly, but this place had the look of times gone by.  Good times.  Old porcelain signs, here and there were to be found, all original to the shop and revered by the older workers in honored nostalgia.  The younger workers get it too; they can tell from the men they respect and learn from, there is something special about this past.  One sign advertises Carter Carburetors and the artwork depicts “three deuces”, model 97’s, sitting proudly atop a flathead engine, all speeding along in a red, open roadster.  Its occupants a blond haired boy with slight freckles (driver), and a brunette girl passenger, white blouse slightly unbuttoned,  both in the wind-blown cool, their excited expressions proclaim… "we are free!" (and all you need is a Carter, or three).

The seasoned old engine block the boy entrusted to the shop cost him $120-even from the bone yard.  Not a bad deal for a good block that had never had its first 0.030” overbore.  In the shop, it was cleaned, checked for cracks, measured and re-measured, inspected and re-inspected.  It was shaped and cut in a special way that would allow the stroker crankshaft, that was to be the special part of this build, to have all the clearance it would need.  The engine block was fitted with temporary stress plates that mimic the presence of cylinder heads,  then the cylinders were bored to “first oversize”,  providing fresh metal for new piston rings to work against.  New bearings were installed everywhere bearings are required.  Parts were smoothed here and there.  Some surfaces were roughened just so, to allow new parts to “work-into each other” when things are finally brought together.  All of this was done with a level of precision and attention far, far greater than the old “4- bolt” had ever received at the factory on its way to a life of labor in the ¾ ton work truck from which it came.  They called this painstaking dedication to precision measurement and fit, to hitting all specifications “on the mark”, “blueprinting”, and it would continue throughout the entire build of this engine.  The boy stayed  worried the whole time, but the shop had done it a million times.

After machining, the block was filled with new and strong parts that cost the young man everything he had.   Parts selected with the greatest of effort, decision, and debate.  “ You can compromise on paint”,” live with some rust”, he would say,  “wait for good tires”, “but never scrimp on the engine”.  Right on.  You get one shot at getting that right, and this proclamation demonstrated wisdom but also provided ample excuse for the rough and unfinished look of the rest of his machine.  But it was just a look, his car was, in fact, “right”.   And its power plant?  Well the machine shop had talked their customer into letting them do the final engine assembly - even cut their price to do it.  They were looking out for the boy.  The mill in its final form was the proper balance of performance and durability, and with its camshaft so carefully selected, the engine's “personality” was perfectly matched to the work at hand.   It would produce adequate torque in the low RPM range to get whole rig moving quickly, yet deliver enough horsepower at red-line to pile on the MPH, fast.  No longer a polite-natured workhorse, this engine, this engine is impatient now.  High compression, a rapid, choppy idle - it seems to be biting at the bit – to be released.  On command, it gulps its mixture and screams angrily, and often those standing around have a reflexive jump - the louder, the better - the more angry, the better.  If it hurts your ears, that’s a good feeling.  If its bark startles, that’s a good startle.  A cacophony?  No, the “music” of controlled explosions, capable of thrusting everything and everyone attached, forward, impolitely, on a rapid run to “red-line”, and it keeps pulling hard and delivering power while spinning fast because it is breathing right and proper and producing the power that thrills, and the only reason to shift gears is to preserve connecting rods, eager as the engine may be to rev further!

This is the addictive sound and feel that has appealed to a certain type of person since engines replaced horses, and why?  A surrogate voice for those who are otherwise quiet?  A visceral celebration of accomplishment?    Who cares.  Shift once, then again - speed quickly makes its appearance.  It appears as a loud, rushing wind and a visually striking, unnatural view of the surrounding scenery.  At some point, in the sane, it triggers a natural response - better slow down.    


He uncorked the headers, bought gasoline, dropped her in gear, tore off to the scene
Camaros and Mustangs, an old ‘55
Obediently lined-up, to get skinned alive!


Verse II (1st person)

I drove past the banner that said “Welcome race fans” took a new route, behind the grandstands
And through my chipped window, I thought I could see
Some of the racers were laughing at me

I guess rust and primer are not to their taste
But I put my bucks mister in the right place

I chugged/popped past cars that dealers had sold
Swung into a spot, next to something old

Emerging with interest from under his hood
My neighbor said two words, he said, “sounds good”

The ’55 I parked next to was “classic rodding” in its outward appearance.  The much overused “primer paint job” channeled “Two Lane Blacktop”.  The hood and front fenders a fiberglass clamshell, pinned affair.  Dice hanging from the mirror paid homage to days its driver never knew, but wished he had.  He removed them before he drove, always.

If you know how to peel the onion, secrets are revealed.  Wilwood brake calipers can be a dead giveaway. Someone needs serious stopping power - maybe.  Generally, owners who have sprung the bucks for this type gear let the calipers show off in bright red, to make a statement, and sometimes, these days, it’s just a fashion statement.  Now, expensive calipers, as eye candy, are all the rage.  What is true, however, is very few guys spend big money on brakes only to render them inglorious and seemingly common with a shot of silver paint from a rattle can, and the owner of this ’55 had done just that. 

Two things seem to be at play here.  One, he needs those heavy brakes because he’s fast, and two, hiding them fits his style.   Really, the message to be found in the silver paint, so cleverly applied to make your eyes simply slide across on their way to more interesting things, was “sleeper”.   And sleeper really means, he’s one of those guys with a score to settle - with everyone perhaps.   The list of “real parts” grew, if you knew where to look.  Something I had defacto permission to do since my rod was undergoing a similar scrutiny.  
“Stroked?”, I asked.  That’s something you can’t see from the outside. “ No”, the racer replied.  
“Hundred shot?”  (If engines have their language, so do the people who love them).   Despite the owner’s great efforts to conceal braided fuel and nitrous lines, electrical solenoids and switches, I spied his system.  The chunks of aluminum posing as ordinary spacers under his two carburetors were anything but.   “No”, was his one-word reply to my 100- shot question.  I tried again; “Your nitrous system, how much are you spraying?”  “Two hundred fifty” in two stages, he said.  That’s more like it, I thought, and I then figured, he too had budgeted well for the machine shop – if not, he was gambling in a game that if lost, would fly parts in all directions.   Based on the overall vibe of the scene, and the clean work on display, I believed his build was up to the punishment he planned.   I knew exactly what this tight-lipped guy was about, seeing someone very familiar in him as it were, and that made the “sounds good” complement I received upon my arrival all the more valuable.

The voice on the loudspeaker tells us we’re up.

Pre-staged, staged, then given the green
The line becomes blurred between man and machine

Bones become linkage
Muscle, spring
Fear, excitement

Time distorts ….
Color disappears …
Vision narrows…
Noise ---  becomes music
Speed, satisfaction

End
1969 Hartford art school is magnet for exceedingly intelligent over-sensitive under-achievers alluring freaks congenital creeps and anyone who cannot cut it in straight world it is about loners dreamers stoners clowns cliques of posers competing to dress draw act most outrageous weird wonderful classrooms clash in diversity of needs some students get it right off while others require so much individual attention one girl constantly raises her hand calls for everything to be repeated explained creativity is treated as trouble and compliance to instruction rewarded most of faculty are of opinion kids are not capable of making original artwork teachers discourage students from dream of becoming well-known until they are older more experienced only practiced skilled artists are competent to create ‘real art’ defined by how much struggle or multiple meanings weave through the work Odysseus wants to make magic boxes without knowing or being informed of Joseph Cornell one teacher tells him you think you’re going to invent some new color the world has never seen? you’re just some rowdy brat from the midwest with a lot of crazy ideas and no evidence of authenticity another teacher warns you’re nothing more than a bricoleur! Odysseus questions what’s a bricoleur teacher informs a rogue handyman who haphazardly constructs from whatever is immediately available Odysseus questions what’s wrong with that? teacher answers it’s low-class folk junk  possessing no real intellectual value independently he reads Marshall McLuhan’s “The Medium Is The Message” and “The Notebooks of Leonardo da Vinci” he memorizes introductory remark of Leonardo’s “i must do like one who comes last to the fair and can find no other way of providing for himself than by taking all the things already seen by others and not taken by reason of their lesser value” Odysseus dreams of becoming accomplished important artist like Robert Rauschenberg Jasper Johns Andy Warhol he dreams of being in eye of hurricane New York art scene he works for university newspaper and is nicknamed crashkiss the newspaper editor is leader in student movement and folk singer who croons “45 caliber man, you’re so much more than our 22, but there’s so many more of us than you” Odysseus grows mustache wears flower printed pants vintage 1940’s leather jacket g.i. surplus clothes he makes many friends his gift for hooking up with girls is uncanny he is long haired drug-crazed hippie enjoying popularity previously unknown to him rock bands play at art openings everyone flirts dances gets ****** lots of activism on campus New York Times dubs university of Hartford “Berkeley of the east coast” holding up ******* in peace sign is subversive in 1969 symbol of rebellion youth solidarity gesture against war hawks rednecks corporate America acknowledgment of potential beyond materialistic self-righteous values of status quo sign of what could be in universe filled with incredible possibilities he moves in with  painting student one year advanced named Todd Whitman Todd has curly blond hair sturdy build wire rimmed glasses impish smile gemini superb draftsman amazing artist Todd emulates Francisco de Goya and Albrecht Durer Todd’s talent overshadows Odysseus’s Todd’s dad is accomplished professor at distinguished college in Massachusetts to celebrate Odysseus’s arrival Todd cooks all day preparing spaghetti dinner when Odysseus arrives home tripping on acid without appetite Todd is disappointed Odysseus runs down to corner store buys large bottle of wine returns to house Todd is eating spaghetti alone they get drunk together then pierce each other’s ears with needles ice wine cork pierced ears are outlaw style of bad *** bikers like Hell’s Angels Todd says you are a real original Odys and funny too Odysseus asks funny, how? Todd answers you are one crazy ******* drop acid whenever you want smoke **** then go to class this is fun tonight Odys getting drunk and piercing our ears Odysseus says yup i’m having a good time too Todd and Odysseus become best friends Odysseus turns Todd on to Sylvia Plath’s “The Bell Jar” and “Ariel” then they both read Ted Hughes “Crow” illustrated with Leonard Baskin prints Todd turns Odysseus on to German Expressionist painting art movement of garish colors emotionally violent imagery from 1905-1925 later infuriating Third ***** who deemed the work “degenerate” Odysseus dives into works of Max Beckmann Otto Dix Conrad Felixmulller Barthel Gilles George Grosz Erich Heckel Ernst Ludwig Kirchner Felix Nussbaum Karl *******Rottluff Carl Hofer August Macke Max Peckstein Elfriede Lohse-Wachtler Egon Shiele list goes on in 1969 most parents don’t have money to buy their children cars most kids living off campus either ride bikes or hitchhike to school then back home on weekends often without a penny in their pockets Odysseus and Todd randomly select a highway and hitch rides to Putney Vermont Brattleboro Boston Cape Cod New York City or D.C. in search of adventure there is always trouble to be found curious girls to assist in Georgetown Odysseus sleeps with skinny girl with webbed toes who believes he is Jesus he tries to dissuade her but she is convinced

Toby Mantis is visiting New York City artist at Hartford art school he looks like huskier handsomer version of Ringo Starr and women dig him he builds stretchers and stretches canvases for Warhol lives in huge loft in Soho on Broadway and Bleeker invites Odysseus to come down on weekends hang out Toby takes him to Max’s Kansas City Warhol’s Electric Circus they wander all night into morning there are printing companies longshoremen gays in Chelsea Italians in West Village hippies playing guitars protesting the war in Washington Square all kinds of hollering crazies passing out fliers pins in Union Square Toby is hard drinker Odysseus has trouble keeping up  he pukes his guts out number of times Odysseus is *** head not drinker he explores 42nd Street stumbles across strange exotic place named Peep Show World upstairs is large with many **** cubicles creepy dudes hanging around downstairs is astonishing there are many clusters of booths with live **** girls inside girls shout out hey boys come on now pick me come on boys there are hundreds of girls from all over the world in every conceivable size shape race he enters dark stall  puts fifty cents in coin box window screen lifts inside each cluster are 6 to 10 girls either parading or glued to a window for $1 he is allowed to caress kiss their ******* for $2 he is permitted to probe their ****** or *** for $10 girl reaches hand into darkened stall jerks him off tall slender British girl thrills him the most she says let me have another go at your dickey Odysseus spends all his money ******* 5 times departing he notices men from every walk of life passing through wall street stockbrokers executives rednecks mobsters frat boys tourists fat old bald guys smoking thick smelly cigars Toby Mantis has good-looking girlfriend named Lorraine with long brown hair Toby Lorraine and Odysseus sit around kitchen table Odysseus doodles with pencil on paper Toby spreads open Lorraine’s thighs exposing her ****** to Odysseus Lorraine blushes yet permits Toby to finger her Odysseus thinks she has the most beautiful ****** he has ever seen bulging pelvic bone brown distinctive bush symmetric lips Toby and Lorraine watch in amusement as Odysseus gazes intently Tony mischievously remarks you like looking at that ***** don’t you? Odysseus stares silently begins pencil drawing Lorraine’s ****** his eyes darting back and forth following day Lorraine seduces Odysseus while Toby is away walks out **** from shower she is few years older her body lean with high ******* she directs his hands mouth while she talks with someone on telephone it is strange yet quite exciting Odysseus is in awe of New York City every culture in the world intermingling democracy functioning in an uncontrollable managed breath millions of people in motion stories unraveling on every street 24 hour spectacle with no limits every conceivable variety of humanity ******* in same air Odysseus is bedazzled yet intimidated

Odysseus spends summer of 1970 at art colony in Cummington Massachusetts it is magical time extraordinary place many talented eccentric characters all kinds of happenings stage plays poetry readings community meals volleyball after dinner volleyball games are hilarious fun he lives alone in isolated studio amidst wild raspberries in woods shares toilet with field mouse no shower he reads Jerzy Kosinski’s “Painted Bird” then “Being There” then “Steps” attractive long haired girl named Pam visits community for weekend meets Odysseus they talk realize they were in first grade together at Harper amazing coincidence automatic ground for “we need to have *** because neither of us has seen each other since first grade” she inquires where do you sleep? Todd hitches up from Hartford to satisfy curiosity everyone sleeps around good-looking blue-eyed poet named Shannon Banks from South Boston tells Odysseus his ******* is not big enough for kind of ******* she wants but she will **** him off that’s fine with him 32 year old poet named Ellen Morrissey from Massachusetts reassures him ******* is fine Ellen is beginning to find her way out from suffocating marriage she has little daughter named Nina Ellen admires Odysseus’s free spirit sees both his possibilities and naïveté she realizes he has crippling family baggage he has no idea he is carrying thing about trauma is as it is occurring victim shrugs laughs to repel shock yet years later pain horror sink in turned-on with new ideas he returns to Hartford art school classes are fun yet confusing he strives to be best drawer most innovative competition sidetracks him Odysseus uses power drill to carve pumpkin on Halloween teachers warn him to stick to fundamentals too much creativity is suspect Todd and he are invited to holiday party Odysseus shows up with Ellen Morrissey driving in her father’s station wagon 2 exceptionally pretty girls flirt with him he is live wire they sneak upstairs he fingers both at same time while they laugh to each other one of the girls Laura invites him outside to do more he follows they walk through falling snow until they find hidden area near some trees Laura lies down lifts her skirt she spreads her legs dense ***** mound he is about to explore her there when Laura looks up sees figure with flashlight following their tracks in snow she warns it’s Bill my husband run for your life! Odysseus runs around long way back inside party grabs a beer pretending he has been there next to Ellen all night few minutes later he sees Laura and Bill return through front door Bill has dark mustache angry eyes Odysseus tells Ellen it is late maybe they should leave soon suddenly Bill walks up to him with beer in hand cracks bottle over his head glass and beer splatter Odysseus jumps up runs out to station wagon Ellen hurriedly follows snow coming down hard car is wedged among many guest vehicles he starts engine locks doors maneuvers vehicle back and forth trying to inch way out of spot Bill appears from party walks to his van disappears from out of darkness swirling snow Bill comes at them wielding large crowbar smashes car’s headlights taillights side mirrors windshield covered in broken glass Ellen ducks on floor beneath glove compartment sobs cries he’s going to **** us! we’re going to die! Odysseus steers station wagon free floors gas pedal drives on back country roads through furious snowstorm in dark of night no lights Odysseus contorts crouches forward in order to see through hole in shattered windshield Ellen sees headlights behind them coming up fast it is Bill in van Bill banging their bumper follows them all the way back to Hartford to Odysseus’s place they run inside call police Bill sits parked van outside across street as police arrive half hour later Bill pulls away next day Odysseus and Ellen drive to Boston to explain to Ellen’s dad what has happened to his station wagon Odysseus stays with Ellen in Brookline for several nights another holiday party she wants to take him along to meet her friends her social circles are older he thinks to challenge their values be outrageous paints face Ellen is horrified cries you can’t possibly do this to me these are my close friends what will they think? he defiantly answers my face is a mask who cares what i look like? man woman creature what does it matter? if your friends really want to know me they’ll need to look beyond the make-up tonight i am your sluttish girlfriend! sometimes Odysseus can be a thoughtless fool

Laura Rousseau Shane files for divorce from Bill she is exceptionally lovely models at art school she is of French descent her figure possessing exotic traits she stands like ballerina with thick pointed ******* copious ***** hair Odysseus is infatuated she frequently dances pursues him Laura says i had the opportunity to meet Bob Dylan once amazed Odysseus questions what did you do? she replies what could i possibly have in common with Bob Dylan? Laura teases Odysseus about being a preppy then lustfully gropes him grabs holds his ***** they devote many hours to ****** intimacy during ******* she routinely reaches her hand from under her buns grasps his testicles squeezing as he pumps he likes that Laura is quite eccentric fetishes over Odysseus she even thrills to pick zits on his back he is not sure if it is truly a desire of hers proof of earthiness or simply expression of mothering Laura has two daughters by Bill Odysseus is in over his head Laura tells Odysseus myth of Medea smitten with love for Jason Jason needs Medea’s help to find Golden Fleece Medea agrees with promise of marriage murders her brother arranges ****** of king who has deprived Jason his inheritance couple is forced into exile Medea bears Jason 2 sons then Jason falls in love with King Creon’s daughter deserts Medea is furious she makes shawl for King Creon’s daughter to wear at her wedding to Jason  shawl turns to flames killing bride Medea murders her own sons by Jason Odysseus goes along with story for a while but Laura wants husband Odysseus is merely scruffy boy with roving eyes Laura becomes galled by Odysseus leaves him for one of his roommates whom she marries then several years later divorces there is scene when Laura tells Odysseus she is dropping him for his roommate he is standing in living room of her house space is painted deep renaissance burgundy there are framed photographs on walls in one photo he is hugging Laura and her daughters under big oak tree in room Laura’s friend Bettina other girl he fingered first night he met Laura at party is watching with arms crossed he drops to floor curls body sobs i miss you so much Laura turns to Bettina remarks look at him men are such big babies he’s pitiful Bettina nods

following summer he works installing displays at G. Fox Department Store besides one woman gay men staff display department for as long as he can remember homosexuals have always been attracted to him this misconception is probably how he got job his tenor voice suggesting not entirely mature man instead more like tentative young boy this ambiguous manifestation sometimes also evidences gestures thoroughly misleading after sidestepping several ****** advances one of his co-workers bewilderingly remarks you really are straight manager staff are fussy chirpy catty group consequently certain he is not gay they discriminate against him stick him with break down clean up slop jobs at outdoor weekend rock concert in Constitution Plaza he meets 2 younger blond girls who consent to go back to his place mess around both girls are quite dazzling yet one is somewhat physically undeveloped they undress and model for Odysseus radio plays Roberta Flack’s “Killing Me Softly With His Song” both girls move to rhythm sing along he thinks to orchestrate direct decides instead to let them lead lies on bed while curvaceous girl rides his ******* slender girl sits on his face they switch all 3 alternate giggle laughter each girl reaches ****** on his stiffness later both assist with hands mouths his ****** is so intense it leaves him paralyzed for a moment

in fall he is cast as Claudius in production of Hamlet Odysseus rehearses diligently on nights o
AS Nov 2014
You act like a *****,
girl where is your switch,
to turn you off,
'cause I'll push you
down a cliff!
ConnectHook Apr 2016
∅⚢☢⚧☯✰⚩✿⚥∅☢⚧☯✰⚢✿⚥☠⚩☯⚧✰

Too little and of course, too late
they spend what’s left imprudently
attempting to alleviate
the love of God’s own liberty:
The world transexual one-party state.

They think it’s normal — right for all
lost in a prideful dying fall
their lions heed the sea-horse call
attempting to transgender fate;
the devil searches for a mate
his nightly Babylonian date:
the world transexual one-party state.

They’ll legislate the Lord away
(his fundie followers as well)
their hateful heaven, holy hell
shall wither up and disappear
before redemption can draw near.
Their myths no more shall obfuscate
nor dangle such celestial bait
that underwriters overrate:
the world transexual one-party state.

Their antichrist is overpriced,
the nations, globally enticed,
now glorify the deviance
in herd-like mass obedience
surrendering to expedience:
where good is bad, and bad is great
and Christ the only one to hate,
allegiances exacerbate
the world ******* one-party state.

Parties will form and parties end
but parties can no more defend
consolidation into one
than flip a switch and dark the sun;
the Caesars left this part undone
the Muslims are just having fun
with our ******* one-party state.

Bring on the night until we see
that dark means dimming by degree
two parties? Overdone by one !
So let it bleed and let it be
till One is All and all agree
that we are doomed to hesitate
when God cannot resuscitate
the late One-World ******* State.
a poem a day for NaPoWriMo2016

www.connecthook.wordpress.com

∅⚢☢⚧☯✰⚩✿⚥∅☢⚧☯✰⚢✿⚥☠⚩☯⚧✰
Maura Feb 2015
You're a real *****
just to let you know
and I don't want to snitch
but you're such a ******* *****

just  because you're rich
doesn't mean you own the world
you're making me go up a pitch
because I'm so angry that you're a *****

people call you a witch
and now I know why
its because you decide to switch
from being nice to a stupid ****** *****
Seriously. You are. This is a passive aggressive poem.
Kairee F Jun 2011
I can’t build walls.
And I don’t have a switch.
So let this be.
Let this be.

Feel everything,
Yet I’m feeling nothing.
Just let this be.
Let this be.

Don’t look.
Don’t speak.
Don’t hear.
Don’t think.
Don’t yearn.
Don’t crave.
Don’t care.
Don’t cry.

Listen to the sweet, scathing sound of silence.
And don’t remember.

Just lock it up.
And let it be.
Time won’t alter anything.

I don’t believe in fate, that any soul is predestined for another.
I don’t believe in coincidence, that we subsist by some sort of chance.
I don’t believe in soul mates,
And I don’t believe in luck.
I believe in faith.

Daring divinity screams my name, and I cannot let myself escape.
Some unknown force guides my thoughts, my actions, my emotions, my desires
–My everything.

No, I don’t believe in fate.
I believe in us.

There is a plan,
And I cannot explain.
I just let it be.

I cannot flip the switch to off,
For I’m incapable of closing myself away,
Of dancing with death and absence,
Of walking with lonely and numb.

I cannot flip the switch to off,
Lest I lose myself once more.
Happiness isn’t achieved this way,
But the lying whispers of false satisfaction.

“Off” will never solve; It will only prolong.

Let me feel,
Let me bleed,
Let me fall,
Let me break,
Let me crumble,
Let me rise,
Let me fight,
And let the cycle run.
At least I know I’m living.

“Off” is the risk you take.
But I dare you to change your ways.
CK Baker Jan 2017
In time you’ll recover and absolve
push those scorned impressions aside
hammer down the jaded edges
and sing
that delightful commoners song
the one you sang so well
in what seems a lifetime ago

You really had it you know
that fiery disposition and nimble cunning
those butter chords and derelict style
we could see it -- we could all see it
it was all it took to turn the evening tide
(and rile that buck fever)
heads bashing
tongues lambasting
middle fingers high
and raising Cain on those may fly statesmen

There were no rules
when it came to your survival
no textbook rally or common bond
no structured songbird or bravado stage
you either made it, or laid it
“life by the *****” Mr. Poppy would say
a kaleidoscope of dreams
with rich colored imagery
hardened artisan seams
in a carefully woven motif

But something got lost in the needle point
something sinister and distorted took hold
the quirks and street genius
that were your lifeline
gave way to grunts
and squeals
and chilling night crawlers
the colors faded quickly
to a cold confining grey

There was no grace in the new world
no retribution or switch back
no salvation or accorded finale
only edged platforms of blackened steel
that kept you cased
in a silent vanquished cell
shivering cold with fear
night without day
all in the shadow of death

But time heals all
and the polish sneakers
and open sores are long gone
(though the roman nose and shallow cleft remain)
indeed the falconer beat the widow maker
this go around
and I’m hopeful it won’t happen again
and if it does you’ll see me
standing hand on heart
with that old verse in hand:

he ain’t tainted
or silly,
and most certainly
not forgotten…
he ain’t loony
or fixed,
or a product of his self-doing…
he’s just a straight shootin’ guy,
who had the most of it
figured out
Alyssa Underwood Sep 2017
Perilous times are foretold for the end
When the one who betrays might as soon be a friend
When he who walked with you in the midst of God's throng
Proves a broken-off reed who didn't belong
When the crowd turns away from the truth they once knew
To embrace a strange fire of the enemy's brew
When the mystic is favored much more than the teacher
And intolerant is the name reserved for the preacher

For myriads have tasted of the heavenly gifts
Then at some unknown point the set compass shifts
And they show by the fact that they do not endure
That they never knew the One Whose salvation is sure
For He's promised He cannot lose one of His own
Yet His wheat grows with tares that His enemy's sown
So these goats dressed as sheep might say all the right words
But pasted-on wings do not turn moles to birds

They learn the same Scriptures and enjoy the same songs
But haven't yet come to the cross for their wrongs
Haven't taken it up and followed the Lord
Have never been born of His Spirit Who is poured
Into all whom the Father has chosen for His Son
Those predestined before the world had begun
So among the elect in the pews sit the dead
Unregenerate men taking up masks instead

And some will sit thus for the rest of their life
While others walk away overcome by the strife
Of their trials, distractions, desires or greed
Rather trusting the world to provide all that they need
For discipleship costs and most think it too high
A price now to pay of their self who must die
Most are tripped by the weight of that covenant walk
Which accompanies a faith that goes past mere talk

It is God's grace alone which grants genuine belief
And with it repentance for proud or for thief
While the course remains bumpy until dying day
The saved may fall down, but they can't fall away
For salvation from first to the last is of the Lord
And His Spirit within is what keeps saints secured
It's our duty and privilege to obey and abide
Yet how could we without His power inside?

Now besides a new fuel we receive a new nature
The old man is dead, we are made a new creature
One that's being conformed to the image of Jesus
So we live to please Him now and not to please us
But because of this switch the world is enraged
For when light shines in darkness its evil's front stage
They hate us the same as they hated our Master
And as time nears its close their fury swells faster

Persecution's been promised for all who are godly
Could be mocking, rejection or harm that is ******
It cannot compare though to what's been exchanged
In the gift of redemption for our souls long-deranged
So we dare not forget when the blows are received
That those doing the punching are still dead and deceived
Still locked in the grip of the enemy's force
Still blinded by sin, still enslaved to its course

Just judgment will come if they do not repent
If they keep on rejecting God's Lamb Who was sent
So it's best left to Him to defend us against
The disdain and discord of a world that's incensed
For they're already judged who refuse to believe
And we would be too but for mercy's reprieve
Being saved from God's wrath that is soon to be poured
Out full strength onto those who His truths have ignored

In the meantime the Father's maturing His children
Forging character depth through both trials and discipline
So let's not lose hope in the face of our sorrow
But rejoice that He's working it out for tomorrow
Since we have a sure treasure stored for us in heaven
And we'll soon be set free from all sin-staining leaven
Let's press on toward Christ's likeness worked in us by grace
And look hard for first moments our eyes see His face!
~~~

"'However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the gospel of God’s grace.'"  
~ Acts 20:24
themarsbeing Apr 2018
[Him]

I was napping
Woke up all of a sudden  
Don't know why I feel like
Something bad is gonna happen
Now I need to find my pen

Been battling anxiety & depression for few years
And there's more that you probably don't wanna hear

No one knows how much pain I bear
All they see are the fake smiles I wear

Somedays all I want is someone near
Sitting next to me and I hope they would say
Don't worry! Everything is going to be okay
Today is not the end, tomorrow is another day

You know, when **** happens
I am not able to find what I had once

Both good and bad moments I had tons
Now it's just darkness

And that's why I write
To bring the light into my life so I can fight
my enemies who are hiding in the darkness of the night

And one day I might run out of ink
And when it does, I don't think
there will be much left of me
And the leftovers will be swept off to the sea
of bipolar depression, mania, and anxiety
Man! I don't want that for me

Truth is, I just wanna be me
Like this, on a writing spree
So, I can stay forever free
And rest under the shades of poetry

So here I am
At 3 in the morning
Awake as night, trying to fight
All the demons inside my head
So, I can move ahead
And leave my enemies mourning and trembling, in dread
And end this chapter once and for all- dropdead!

I know it's easy to say
But the reality is somewhat different
There's only one way
And when I look ahead, I only see the end
I simply pretend to be happy all the time
The only time you get to see the real me is when I rhyme

At nights, anxiety and I are a team
For me, sleeping is like a dream
You know what I mean- that **** never happens
Because racing thoughts never slacken
And when my days blacken
Uninvited thoughts come to my mind
They pull up the roller blinds
Letting darkness enter my mind
I close my eyes but they make me blind
And when they hit rewind
I go back to my past to find what I left behind
And what I always find is more thoughts intertwined

I always find it hard to fall asleep
I even tried counting sheep
But **** it! It never worked, I just keep
thinking about things that I don't wanna think
I told all of this to my shrink
Because of this ****
I'm not able to keep my life in order
Even he doesn't know why I developed this disorder

Somedays I can do many things
Somedays I cannot do anything
Somedays I feel like a king
Somedays I feel like I'm nothing
Somedays I cannot even do the simplest thing
Feels like I'm always on the brink
Slowly shrinking to nothing

Anxiety hoodwinked me into thinking
That I'm a distraught soul
And my life stands for nothing
but pain, stress and worrying thoughts


I know I worry a lot
Even about the fraught relationships I've got
I'm not able to hold all these thoughts

I'm slowly slipping off like a broken rope
I'm tired, I tied a million knots
but there are novemdecillion thoughts
So, a couple of pills I pop
Still no hope, I'm an undying mope

It doesn't matter how many battles I've fought
This time I lost, I'm not a dreadnought
Don't know how many more rhymes I need to jot
down to stop my mind from getting trapped in nomadic thoughts

I'm cutting my veins on both my arms
Death clouds on top of my head- my blood flows
There are blood spots on my bed top
Wait a minute!
What the heck am I writing?
Is this a death note?

Next morning, the dead wakes
With ******* headaches
My mind and heart are having a debate
I hate me when I can't think straight

My mind is a prison and I'm the inmate
I don't wanna repeat my mistakes
I doubled the pills I usually take


While making decisions, I contemplate
Every possible outcome I calculate
But I'm extremely anxious, I change lanes
Followed by the unknown, no nameplates
They tailgate, I'm in a dire strait

Au fait with this mess but I conflate
Everything I've got, I don't take things the way they are
But I have to go very far
Oh, wait! I think I'm carrying too much weight
Need to stop hauling freight
Before I break down, I need to hit the brakes

Somehow I reach my office but I'm late
It's like a disaster waits for me at the front gate
And as I step in, I'm gifted with more
I slowly open the door
Feels like this day I've lived before

I'm shambling towards a dangling bait
All I can do is keep on rambling. Wait!
Have no idea what's written on my fate
I don't know why my heart is beating at a faster rate
I'm not able to concentrate
Even the simplest thing I complicate
I hope there's someone who can relate
to all the tales I narrate

So, here I go again
I sent a text to my friend 15 minutes ago
Why didn't I receive a reply yet?

Maybe the network is slow or maybe the text didn't go
I should check my phone now; Oh no!
It has been marked as read 10 minutes ago

Did I say something wrong? I don't know
Maybe I did or maybe I didn't
I check my phone hoping new notifications it will show
But it didn't; I think something's wrong

Should I text a hello?
So I sent a few texts in a row
My mind's in overdrive as more thoughts start to flow

Maybe the phone's battery's low
And like this, I go, there is no stop
Oh god! What should I do?
Feels like everything is falling apart

This feeling is not new
Still, I'm worried to go through
I wish there was a how-to guide
to peacefully & happily live your life

I just wanna be carefree and happy
But I know, it's never happening
Maybe the day I die will be
The happiest day in my life


[Her]

My mind is on overdrive.
I can't let go of this anxiety clouding my mind.

Incessant worry all the time.
People telling me "it's okay, you'll be fine."
They don't understand how anxiety affects my mind, my body.
My whole life.
Most of the time I just want to crawl in a corner and hide.

Irritable and restless, my mind begins to race.
I can't concentrate.
My breath runs short and I feel like I can't breathe.

Peace and quiet is what I need.
But the world keeps spinning around me.

My face turns red.
Inside, I feel a sense of dread.
I tell myself to quit while I'm ahead.

Just let my worries go.
I wish it were that simple.

Every day is a battle
when you are fighting against yourself.

I have an inner struggle
buried deep inside but hide it well.

I bury it so deep,
no one can tell.

I am in a brawl with my demons all the time.
No matter how hard I try,
I can't escape the darkness of my own mind.

I feel trapped.
I feel alone.
I feel like no one can hear my screams.
Too often I get lost in vanishing hopes and unreachable dreams.

Happiness dangles in front of me like bait
dangling in front of a fish.
I wonder if I will ever experience true bliss.
Or if it will always be hit and miss.

Happiness likes to tease me.
I try my best to live freely and be happy.
Anxiety and depression take over every time.

My mind is never pleased.
I can never fully be at ease.

My brain is self-destructive.
Always beating itself up.
I just want to tell it to shut up.


I wish there were a switch I could flip
to turn off the anxiety in my mind.
If only shutting off my anxiety was as simple
as hitting a light switch.

We can't all get what we wish for.
I accept my anxiety as part of me.
I manage it, I live it every day.
There are days where I really struggle.
Others where I'm okay.

If you're okay, take a walk in my shoes
Let me tell you a secret, only a few people knew.
Now it feels like a lifetime ago.
It started because of my depression and anxiety.
When I was a teen I used to cut myself.

I never told my parents,
that I used to take a razor to my wrist.
It was a feeling I couldn't resist.

The razor called out my name.
Every bad thing that happened in my life,
I was to blame.
Cutting myself was a way to escape
To a temporary place where only I could go.

I could give myself the pain I deserved
for everything that I did wrong and those
that I hurt.


Cutting myself gave me temporary relief
from all the pain I harbored inside.
From time to time, I took the razor to my arm.
I was already ******* up I didn’t think it would anymore harm.
I hide it well, covered my arm in long-sleeve shirts. So, one could see a trace of my hidden pain.
I wanted to keep it tame.
Under wraps, so my life wouldn’t continue to collapse.

My whole life was a charade, one big lie.
I faked smiles and happiness.
Yet deep inside, I wondered how long I would have to go on like that.
I eventually stopped because I realized I was only adding to the chaos of my own personal hell.

And on a night where I was dark and depressed.
At my bitter end.
I downed a bottle of prescription pills.
Luckily there were only five left.

I felt the pills lurch deep within my body, begin to leave side effects.
I was on edge and wondered what would happen next.

Taking five times more than my recommended dose.
Almost left me comatose.
I learned my lesson.
I will never do that again.

Sometimes I tell myself anxiety is the price
I must pay for all the mistakes I have made.

I know that isn't true.
The thought fades.
But my anxiety remains, locked in place.

Anxiety is like having a demonic voice
In the back of my head.
It fills me with worry and self-doubt.
Tells me I am better off dead.

I get so frustrated.
I don't know if I want to cry or shout.
Sometimes I do both.

I vent to others and let it all out.
Yet I don't feel like they truly understand
unless they have experienced mental
Illness themselves.

Anxiety is an illness, but it is not like the cold or flu.
Medication can help it, but it will never truly go away.

I don't want to be dependent on pills.
My whole life I have tried to handle
depression and anxiety myself.

This might be the time to ask for help.
To realize I'm not alone
Mental illness is a solitary battle but there is hope.
Abigail Madsen Oct 2014
I watch as she squirms under his grip
one hand over her mouth
the other at her hip.
I feel for the girl so pretty but worn.
She looks of an angel
though her wings have been torn.

Switch

I wake up,
oh god.
it happened again.
****, I can’t take this
I wish it was made up, pretend.

What can I do?
I am only a young girl
and he a man of power.
No one would care.
A man that, if accused, from a girl run ragged and bare,
only my reputation would turn sour, it’s not fair.

I listen for his footsteps
coming for round two.
I listen carefully
while chained here
there is nothing else to do.

How long was I out for,
god ****** what day is it?
I can’t even tell
Not after that first hit.
How long has it been,
who knows I’ve lost count
I can only hope the end is near.

The door opens again
light floods the dark room
the shadow of a man coming to light
the crooked smirk and rough hands
Greet me once more
I close my eyes and hit the floor.

Switch

The girl hits the floor fast
her head cracks.
He doesn’t care
she doesn’t dare
make a sound.
I don’t even see tears.

She’s weak she doesn’t even fight it anymore
She lays there
God ****** get up,
it isn’t getting better and I can only feel pity for so long.
She looks like a lifeless doll.
God ****** get up,
She lays there in thrall
of him.

Oh look he’s done.
Throws her once pristine and lively body to the side.
Shocker
that ******
****** her
touched her
and
wrecked her
and he thinks he can walk away.
Wrong, I won’t let her stay.

Switch

My head
oh god my head.
The crimson mark of his abuse covers my hands.
My body aches
I don’t know how much more I can take.

Switch

None
she won’t take it anymore.
I won’t let her,
it’s her turn to show him
the kind of of pain he put her in.

Stand up ******
stand up and fight back.
He is going to get his scotch and sit down.
wrap something on your head to slow the bleeding.
Make him start pleading,
and show him how you plan on succeeding.

Switch

Okay I’m up
and I can see him hold his cup
only his hand and arm are visible.
How typical,
but this is no longer livable.
And it has blown past fixable
so now all that is left is to end it.

I admit
it went on too long
but he was in the wrong
I feel our power now
she is with me
and it is time to end he
he who defaced us,
he who disgraced us,
he who wasted us.
Now we waste him
knife in his heart,
finally four years after the start.
It was we
who made he
Depart.
Written for a class from the perspective of someone with multiple personality disorder.
Cunning Linguist Apr 2017
S
  p
   i
  r
a
l
   i
   n
g

   d
    o
   w
      n
-
[an
infinite
abyss]
-
A temporal anomaly
peaking your drift
Perusing the cosmos,
within Dude's rocketship

Quarantined as a species
from contact with the Gods-
Odds are they're too busy banging
new milky ways into the stars
While you're pensive, quantum-plating
the nature of existence
Prayers fall unto deaf ears
too apathetic to listen

Godspeed towards the rift,
Time bends at the edge of a black hole
-But only the tip

My seeds melt into the motherverse
So I get down on it,
Cunning Linguist eats his words
Oedipus'd be jealous,
In slow motion
Impregnates spacetime itself;
With a big bang fellatious 
 
Thus, the holy seed of life
Was ****** into the void~~~
Perpetuating strife
Into the *****, of beyond

Its not a paradox if you simply process
0 and 1 at once
1 can go into 0
as many times as it wants

8====D~~(Y)

Preach level = Jim Jones
just the punchline's too long
Your golden idol,
Holy ****,
Bless this nut that I bust
I'll stretch my luck
To the sum of existence
Until it comes full circle

Voracious, bodaciously
Spatial in stasis
Without patience
Inseminating your eyeholes
Through lines of text

Transcendental
Entangled in a
  Δ,
With a devil & angel
Dimensions oughta coalesce
At just the right angle

Y'all haven't the wherewithal
To feel my *****
Slap-happy against one's skull
Put the rock in the hard place
Neanderthal
Meander tall, in the wave of thought,
The photons in your DNA are all but shot

I will abduct your subconscious
To probe through your thoughts
* testing Testing *
are you turned on?
Feel your genitals tingling ~~
I'm simultaneously dichotomic
Jerxin off my dingaling
playing your heartstrings like a harp

Allow me to go deeper
& penetrate your very reason for being.
Is the life that you're seeing
-Just the information eyes are receiving
-Only what your mind is perceiving
-Abstract thought is just too deceiving no
Can you even conceive it?

Why bother

Wanna switch positions
so you can see
where I'm coming from?
Go ahead and tell me,
are the heavens not
what you've dreamt of

A smoldering ember
in a once burning sky
Life of a former divine,
Masquerading as an angel of light
A furnace see:
 **nihl
Tethered,
To the nethers
On the outskirts of the universe
AP Staunton Jan 2016
Go on, my Son, go out and box,
don't wave this chance good-bye,
Switch from Southpaw to Orthodox.

The Judges have it Fifty/Fifty, an equinox,
apply yourself. . . apply,
Go on my Son, go out and box.

Keep it crafty, like the fox,
acid to his alkali,
Switch from Southpaw to Orthodox.

Jab, Jab, Hook! Unpick the locks,
it's time to modify,
Go on my Son, go out and box.

Unloading pallets of concrete blocks
until the day you die ?
Switch from Southpaw to Orthodox.

Win this Round, escape the docks,
would I tell you a lie ?
Go on my Son, go out and box,
Switch from Southpaw to Orthodox.
I. Am. Bipolar.
I have my highs
I have my
                    lows
I will be laughing about my life one minute
And crying about it the next
My switch is one or the other
But sometimes the switch breaks

And that is the scariest part

The numb feeling
Senseless
Hopeless
Unfeeling
Dead
Wanting to be nothing at all for a moment
So I don't sleep
Or eat
Or sometimes even move
I am a slave to my mental illness
I sometimes watch my friends lose interest
In anything I have to say
Until something knocks the edge and the switch is adjusted
And so is my mood
Then everything is fine
Or ******* awful

I. Am. Bipolar.
I have Bipolar 1 disorder which is also known as Manic Depression. I live a normal life but can have up to 4 "episodes" a week. I get by, like anyone else would. It's just a shame those around me have to live with it too.
shirley temple Aug 2011
If only reality had an off switch
so I could fall backwards into my other normal
counting
5 4 3 2 1

and I'm there....

I'd hold your hand tight,
as we spiraled through the myriad of stars
in a blanket of millions of colors.

aurora after u n r e a l aurora,
we'd float through reality
on a blanket of velvety blues.
Colors would (jump)
like my heart does
every time you hold me close.
and this magical light switch
would turn off reality
so we could float along improbably,
through light and time and matter and space

until the old reality implodes.
Josh Koepp Oct 2012
Every morning i greet the sun smelling like jasmine and spice
the rays roll through my window
bend nicely and tip their hats only to figure out
that i am a man
and they switch between reaching down to kiss my hand
something they subconsciously planned
ever since that smell of sensual perfume heated up
even the hottest, and the coolest
made them too woozy to stand
they switch to an improvised hand shake
their mother told them not to judge on every
first impression that they make
but they smell my personality
my mannerisms and the way i walk and talk
WAFTED into their nostrils
like some woman dolled up before a date
with no one
to sit alone and say
"** hum"
and wait for the casual wreck of a man to walk in
to punch his time card and clock in
to commit sin upon this woman

but no

their nostrils and their eyes
seem to not agree
on what is
me

i wake up smelling like jasmine and spices
like a woman who spent all night in sin
taking pleasure from her vices
and i waft into every man and womans nostrils

and their eyes say man

their nose says woman so it seems
so they think i must be something in between

when in reality i smell like this because
i spent an entire night in love
with someone i lost the next day
and in our own way she brought her oils
for me to serve and slave her body with
and i wasn't ashamed of it

i spilt the oils all over our bodys they caressed us
and gave every motion an unstoppable velocity
every situation was slippery
and things that shouldnt have been
almost came to be

as we slept the oils clocked out
and slid down our still interlocked bodies and into the bedspread
it opened up its homestead
and buried its dead, started families and grew in number
until the population of the smell was too strong
too strong and the one i shared the smell with
was gone

but i hold that night fondly
i hold it above my head in all its glory
and when i am judged by my scent and called
gay
***
or questioned of my sexuality
i just tell them
i'm being the scent i smelled when i discovered my masculinity
when i tried gender fusion and it didn't quite work
but i covered every other base
i swear my good sir

so ill tell you one thing
i am not an inbetween because i have never joined in the sweet final base
into sweet sexuality
with the opposite *** making man and woman
into man-woman
the in between

what i really mean is i am not what you think of me
i am 100% man until i find the right woman
a beautiful sight in the sunlight
and when night falls and i cant see her at all
i can find even more things i like
to take that from me
and i will give it up gladly

i am a man
as much as any man woman
or man man is
and stereotypes are for those who dont understand
that there IS no difference.
Alyssa Underwood Feb 2016
Perilous times are foretold for the end
When the one who betrays might as soon be a friend
When he who walked with you in the midst of God's throng
Proves a broken-off reed who didn't belong
When the crowd turns away from the truth they once knew
To embrace a strange fire of the enemy's brew
When the mystic is favored much more than the teacher
And intolerant is the name reserved for the preacher

For myriads have tasted of the heavenly gifts
Then at some unknown point the set compass shifts
And they show by the fact that they do not endure
That they never knew the One Whose salvation is sure
For He's promised He cannot lose one of His own
Yet His wheat grows with tares that His enemy's sown
So these goats dressed as sheep might say all the right words
But pasted-on wings do not turn moles to birds

They learn the same Scriptures and enjoy the same songs
But haven't yet come to the cross for their wrongs
Haven't taken it up and followed the Lord
Have never been born of His Spirit Who is poured
Into all whom the Father has chosen for His Son
Those predestined before the world had begun
So among the elect in the pews sit the dead
Unregenerate men taking up masks instead

And some will sit thus for the rest of their life
While others walk away overcome by the strife
Of their trials, distractions, desires or greed
Rather trusting the world to provide all that they need
For discipleship costs and most think it too high
A price now to pay of their self who must die
Most are tripped by the weight of that covenant walk
Which accompanies a faith that goes past mere talk

It is God's grace alone which grants genuine belief
And with it repentance for proud or for thief
While the course remains bumpy until dying day
The saved may fall down, but they can't fall away
For salvation from first to the last is of the Lord
And His Spirit within is what keeps saints secured
It's our duty and privilege to obey and abide
Yet how could we without His power inside?

Now besides a new fuel we receive a new nature
The old man is dead, we are made a new creature
One that's being conformed to the image of Jesus
So we live to please Him now and not to please us
But because of this switch the world is enraged
For when light shines in darkness its evil's front stage
They hate us the same as they hated our Master
And as time nears its close their fury swells faster

Persecution's been promised for all who are godly
Could be mocking, rejection or harm that is ******
It cannot compare though to what's been exchanged
In the gift of redemption for our souls long-deranged
So we dare not forget when the blows are received
That those doing the punching are still dead and deceived
Still locked in the grip of the enemy's force
Still blinded by sin, still enslaved to its course

Just judgment will come if they do not repent
If they keep on rejecting God's Lamb Who was sent
So it's best left to Him to defend us against
The disdain and discord of a world that's incensed
For they're already judged who refuse to believe
And we would be too but for mercy's reprieve
Being saved from God's wrath that is soon to be poured
Out full strength onto those who His truths have ignored

In the meantime the Father's maturing His children
Forging character depth through both trials and discipline
So let's not lose hope in the face of our sorrow
But rejoice that He's working it out for tomorrow
Since we have a sure treasure stored for us in heaven
And we'll soon be set free from all sin-staining leaven
Let's press on toward Christ's likeness worked in us by grace
And look hard for first moments our eyes see His face!
"However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace."  Acts 20:24

Thank you Melissa Pagano, Eddie Starr, Lidi Minuet, my Soul Survivor sister Catherine and many others for your examples of boldness to proclaim the truth of the Gospel of Jesus Christ! You are true inspirations to me!!
NitaAnn May 2015
I stand here
Alone
Afraid

Unnoticed
As the world spins.

What am I doing wrong?
Why will nobody help me?

I try so hard to figure this out
This mystery of life
Why some are accepted
While others are cast out

I belong to the outcasts
Unloved
Unworthy
Forgotten

I stand here and watch
Nobody pays attention to me
A broken hurting little girl
Unless I get in the way
Then it's a swift kick to the curb
Learn your place
You are not welcome here

I wish I could flip a switch
Make things right
Know how to fix the wrongs
Turn evil into good

But life is not a light switch.
Kylie May 2017
Switch.
He's the on and off switch,
Turning off my anxiety and
off the deep and dark eating disorder that was once ripping at my brain,
I am no longer insane.

He's the reason for my lips corners
Reaching for my ears,
Reaching and reaching until I hide behind what is near
He turns off all of my fears.

He is the reason for that feeling of cold
The good kind.
So cold that turning up the radio,
lead me to missing his hand in mine
He stops time
With his lips against mine.

When he rolls over in his sleep
What a wonderful creation,
That loosing him would only be my imagination
He brings me so much fascination.

I listen
I listen to him and tell me everything is going to be ok,
Listening and listening
even he had struggles throughout his day.
In the end the struggles did not matter;

We were together
Those negatives that were once so heavy
Are now as light as a feather;

The feather to the bird
That flies across the room to turn on the light switch.
Turning on,
the good feeling
My insides are screaming.

Your fingers crept
to the edge of my jaw
Softly around my neck.
Your thumb caressing my cheek
It happened in a blink

It still felt so right
To kiss me once
And feel all release from my lungs.
Young
Which means we have time to grow

So much time that,
the light switch is still going off and on.
Yet, the light
will never burn out
We will never burn out.
I love you
Molly Hughes Dec 2013
When you kiss me,
I don't think you realise,
but my lips turn into an explosion of electricity
on your dead circuit board mouth.

Let me revive you.
Let me shock you into submission.
Let me make your hair stand on end,
your knees tremble.

Either that, or just smash my bulb.
My light flickers when I see you with somebody else,
and what use is a dim light to anybody?
Apart from the little extra illumination it shines on you.

Maybe I could rewire you.
Maybe I could flip a switch.
Maybe I could turn on your lips and you could kiss me,
kiss
me,
under a streetlamp.
Maybe you could be my light in the dark.

I think there's been a power cut.
I can't see.
My eyes are under a blanket of darkness,
and your light has gone out.
I guess I'll just have to switch on mine
whilst you smoulder for another
brighter,
more beautiful light.

Time to pull the plug.
Does anybody else ever get the urge to show their poems to the people they're about? Imagine their face.
Luna Casablanca May 2016
The more I think about it
and hold a drink in my hand
I sip some more and hope my
drunk eyes will **** the night
over.
It's better than killing
myself.
The desire has been on inside
me like a light switch.
I turn it off but someone
always manages to turn it on
before I reach it.
If I am to reach anything,
it will be my destiny,
the thoughts aren't real, and
depression and mania will have
their matches in the ring.
I may seem like someone new the
next day or minute,
but you can always expect to
see me again the next day
or minute.
The thoughts happen and don't
go anywhere,
but I'm here to stay
only because I
want to in all
honesty.

Bad thoughts-(SWITCH OFF)
Good thoughts-(SWITCH ON)
And see the light that is here on
earth.
It is hard when the thoughts arrive, but know your destiny and don't obey your depression. If you ever think too much of it or want to do it, tell somebody who loves you. We sometimes forget who loves us but there is someone, I promise.

— The End —