"tunneling" poems
Sometimes I get stuck in this state of Darkness
where my eyes can see
but it's like my head is just pitch black
and I almost wish I couldn't see anything,
like I wish I could just curl myself into a ball so tightly that I disappear from space for a while
sometimes I get stuck in this space
and I feel like my tears and my thoughts
are climbing up my esophagus and clogging my throat
blocking my airway
suffocating me from the inside
maybe I never told you I was depressed because who wants to relive that moment
that choking hazard moment of cotton ***** in my throat
maybe I never told you I was depressed because there are no words I can use to describe it that don't transform themselves into their meanings
that don't take over my mind
crawl through my head like little worms
eating away at my brain
my thoughts
my skin
have you ever thought of a traumatic experience and then felt those events happening again
felt the dark hole of life-threatening-trauma attack your mind
Shiver through your body
like it was a demon you let in through a memory-
through a word
maybe I didn't tell you I was depressed
because I wasn't strong enough
my depression fills me to the brim
fills my head and my chest
my arms and my fingers
I can feel it moving through my body
I can feel it expanding and engulfing everything inside of me
every last vein, nerve, ***** and tissue
how can you expect me to have the energy to fight
how can you expect me to have the energy to pick up the phone
to open my mouth
how can you expect me to have energy-to have the courage to utter the words of how I feel
I feel so worthless
in those moments I feel like there's this black whole inside me and it's consuming everything
it's taking everything but my skin
and it disgusts me
can you imagine the feeling,
having something so utterly repulsive on your skin you had to scrape it off immediately
It felt like you needed to be cleansed
like you needed a shower
take that feeling
now imagine it being under your skin
imagine, every muscle ***** vein nerve every cell in your body underneath your epidermis disgusts you
imagine all you wanted to do was to
GET
IT
OFF
and you can't
no matter how hard you try
you can't scrape it off
you can't claw It off
imagine you're scared of spiders
now imagine you're covered in spiders
and someone's holding down your arms
so you can't get them off
imagine them walking on your skin
in your mouth
crawling on your open eyes
in your ears
you're cringing at your own skin
You can feel them going down your throat
Their disgusting tickle in the pit of your stomach
in every crevice of your body
their tunneling under your skin
and you can't get them off
what are you supposed to do
but cry
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 11:30 PM UTC
Consider Icarus, pasting those sticky wings on,
testing that strange little tug at his shoulder blade,
and think of that first flawless moment over the lawn
of the labyrinth. Think of the difference it made!
There below are the trees, as awkward as camels;
and here are the shocked starlings pumping past
and think of innocent Icarus who is doing quite well.
Larger than a sail, over the fog and the blast
of the plushy ocean, he goes. Admire his wings!
Feel the fire at his neck and see how casually
he glances up and is caught, wondrously tunneling
into that hot eye. Who cares that he fell back to the sea?
See him acclaiming the sun and come plunging down
while his sensible daddy goes straight into town.
13.3k
Arrays of stars land softly
on this thick bed of pine needles
under your graciously reaching tree,
and we see impossibly blue, miniature
flowers with centers of infinite white.
Tunneling underground, more
have been born over the decades
since you planted their mothers and fathers
by hand, here in this garden that has become
a secret woodland, even in the middle of town.
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 7:54 PM UTC
The peephole was across from the study lounge,
As I stayed awake, the silhouette of light from your pacing body was bouncing back and fourth like a pair of anxious eyes under my door.
Back and forth, Back and forth.
I was hypnotized, the beam was tunneling your thoughts into my mind.
Suddenly.
I was asking are you okay? You said. "I'm just thinking".
"I'm just thinking", meant I was just thinking.
I was crazy, no you were crazy.
No, we were both crazy.
Busy minds, busy thoughts, pacing back and forth,
Busy minds, busy thoughts, a friendship had came forth.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 9:54 PM UTC
Tunneling thoughts like rain
Craning through light clouds
Unsuspecting victims.
The fear
The tears
The temper tantrums;
A kind of rebuttal
That won't let our feet find land
We adjourned to rehearse,
but our efforts were null and void
Only to appease with flames
that licked our shriveled bodies
D r
i p
p i n
g
Kerosene
Tainted like ink Spilled on
Reams of paper
ruined like Christmas
A house warmed by Open flames
fallen candles Adorning
A naked kitchen My limp body,
Splayed beneath the oven
As
darkness indulges, It
consumes
The smoke, Fills
Each crevice
In your mind
Can you ever fight it
Burn your way back
To blissful ignorance.
Nov 20, 2023
Nov 20, 2023 at 1:59 PM UTC
Isolationist theories
of my brutal development
A mask
In the world of passengers
Regretting every slight disruption
Making icy chatters of teeth
As we wonder
How will these small altercations
Affect the grand course
of my surreptitious collapse?
Just a violent object on an axis
A washer head
thrown into a tumultuous ocean of visions
A flickering correspondent
Lying on an abolition
The worst things happening to the best people
It spins and breaths and *****
This molested scared demon
Anally penetrating all that I believe is genuine
Reels of my childhood development
Played on repeat to search for ammunition
The tunneling rib cages of my insanity
The forest nymph of all that is good
The one who created me
Locked away in a windowless world
Analyzed as if lockness was one of them
I always thought it would be me
Falling to where I could not be found
How am I still standing?
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 9:35 AM UTC
I slept with her, my rapacious pen, took me in quiet vengeance in
full on conjugation
raken and taken, me,
her overlording me now, her authorship, so long held
in my maledom abeyance,
a kept imprisonment, unleashing at last, a tongue lashing~leashing,
de-spite my un-desirous craven lying supplications,
excuses of innocence and accident, coincidence and conflation,
ashes, ashes, denials incinerated, all fall down
she wrote/stabbed upon my heartless chest,
in the cheap crudités colors of a prisoner’s inking,
“user of words mine, all mine”
gathered up my innards of loose words,
speculative notes & titles yet to be,
born and kept hid in password protected silent back labor files,
now hers, leaving me sputtering, unable to create,
a homeless mute citizen, possession-less,
helplessly hoping her hovering harlequin might relent,
without any shelter, even a glimmering, a single aleph or bet
she celebratory cackled and clawed,
professed her reclamation ownership of all my poems predecessors,
zola j’accusing that I, ripped from her forcibly,
with no granted permission, her womanly touché of my scribing,
warning of no more global warming for my unprivileged hands,
daren’t try for pretenses of stolen legal guardianship,
warning of a new, forced caining inscription,
a tattooing of “thief” upon my 5 knuckled right ******
“plagiarist” boldly inked in back & blue upon my left palm
I, predator,
she, victim,
of my now self-professed, admitted confess,
she, my single victim,
of a decade long serializing criminal coverup
her parting poem a threatening,
herein issued in this very verse,
damning all who would falsely credit themselves,
to suffer shame and an unimaginable curse,
this, the newborn eleventh of ten commandments
parting, she kissing my lips, even my emptied apertures,
with warning bitings,
she knew all my
my numerous noms de guerre,
no dead scrolls caves to hid in, and to be discovered some future day,
and if ever marked as copyrighted,
’twas no tunneling escape,
the exposed truth to be over-stamped
upon all, upon each, in every language,
”copied right from the tongue of a woman!”
and she would be wright...
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 10:10 AM UTC
Carrots moping in the ground
Roots rot and spoiled orange splits-
In cold earth.
Worms squirm freely in and out the sprouts
And wander about without worry or woe,
No place to go but down
Tunneling deeper in Carrot-Worm town.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
The mine shaft’s gaping mouth
yawns like the throat of an old, useless god.
Gnats hover by the scattered rocks.
This is real not a set, or a scene,
a spit of dirt shot through the sluice, all things like
a picture cut to kiss my America expectation.
In the surrounding bush, tamaracks curve towards the clouds.
The clouds where, above the furry tips of conifers, cataracts
plummet down mountainwalls, and ask:
“afraid?” And I am, I am. I fear the sheer
slopes of tough granite slashing the giant sky
in two; the hard-edged mountain face. The expansive air.
And this split is brooding old and unknowable
tunneling briskly into the unfamiliar, bruising
Montana a grisly purple-red
when the sun swings underground
and shades the hot **** by the mine with cool night as
behind it, the mine appears to growl.
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 9:09 PM UTC
JESUS emptied the devils of one man into forty hogs and the hogs took the edge of a high rock and dropped off and down into the sea: a mob.
The sheep on the hills of Australia, blundering fourfooted in the sunset mist to the dark, they go one way, they hunt one sleep, they find one pocket of grass for all.
Karnak? Pyramids? Sphinx paws tall as a coolie? Tombs kept for kings and sacred cows? A mob.
Young roast pigs and naked dancing girls of Belshazzar, the room where a thousand sat guzzling when a hand wrote: Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin? A mob.
The honeycomb of green that won the sun as the Hanging Gardens of Nineveh, flew to its shape at the hands of a mob that followed the fingers of Nebuchadnezzar: a mob of one hand and one plan.
Stones of a circle of hills at Athens, staircases of a mountain in Peru, scattered clans of marble dragons in China: each a mob on the rim of a sunrise: hammers and wagons have them now.
Locks and gates of Panama? The Union Pacific crossing deserts and tunneling mountains? The Woolworth on land and the Titanic at sea? Lighthouses blinking a coast line from Labrador to Key West? Pigiron bars piled on a barge whistling in a fog off Sheboygan? A mob: hammers and wagons have them to-morrow.
The mob? A typhoon tearing loose an island from thousand-year moorings and bastions, shooting a volcanic ash with a fire tongue that licks up cities and peoples. Layers of worms eating rocks and forming loam and valley floors for potatoes, wheat, watermelons.
The mob? A jag of lightning, a geyser, a gravel mass loosening...
The mob ... kills or builds ... the mob is Attila or Ghengis Khan, the mob is Napoleon, Lincoln.
I am born in the mob-I die in the mob-the same goes for you-I don't care who you are.
I cross the sheets of fire in No Man's land for you, my brother-I slip a steel tooth into your throat, you my brother-I die for you and I **** you-It is a twisted and gnarled thing, a crimson wool:
One more arch of stars,
In the night of our mist,
In the night of our tears.
2.4k
It's 11:11 make a wish
Look out the spotty window
See all the frowns
And boring towns
See how powerful the words we use are
They can cut deep
Deeper than the most violent assault
Buildings and obelisks of befuddlement
Pressed for time
Lemon scented tiles
Scrubbed
No mold
Personal preference
Common courtesy
And common sense
Scarce but invaluable
A face only a mother could love
And a father can lie to
Coulda
Woulda
Shoulda
Didn't
Searching for carrion
Give way
To the wayside
ECNALUBMA
In the rear view
The worms eat us
The early birds catch the worms
The cat nabs the worm
After being resurrected by satisfaction
And the night owl writes the tell-all
Put the ear to glass
Put the glass to the door
And listen closely
To sound of knuckles cracking
And the chattering of coffee shop patrons
Indian givers going back on their word
Fingerless gloves
Prim and proper
Promptly pummeling
Tunneling to tomorrow
Well done
Slim to none
Fat chance
The local native's tongue
Sold fresh and farm raised
On any given day
You can find demi-gods
Playing a a pick up game
Matchbook
Matchbox
Mismatch socks
Pick up sticks and stretchmarks
Just stay the night
So we can wish this all away together
It's 11:12 open your eyes
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 1:22 PM UTC
Silhouettes in moonlit mazes
your tears are complex superstructures.
Superclusters wrinkle I, negative energy,
tunneling through chasms forbidden;
you and I float.
Comes a sound, depth charged sleeper cell,
a bloop, a mystery, an unsweep,
a whistle, a Julia, a train, a slow down.
Heard by 350,000 zombies.
You and I sleep.
A child derails a train, safe to say,
that the world has its trapdoors.
Its a mystery, they say, but what do they know?
About us and our death.
You and I disorient.
Your two ******* hide a heart,
A mother board center of circulation.
Your body’s iterative delusion
Graces mine. And dissolves me.
You and I disintegrate.
We need to hack the heart,
With absurdity and farce and slipstream:
Into subspecies, we, simians,
We are grateful, gratified.
You and I evaporate
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 12:22 AM UTC
The frames
Tunneling us enough to cloak the rays of diversity, of possibilities
The normality shaded a charcoal black, sprayed over us
Stinging the eyes of those who could see the spectrum
Blinding the ones who walked down the colored roads from the coliseum to the Twin Towers
People hung up on the walls, stapled to the confinements of society's critics
As if a snowflake would make them unloved, unseen, unwanted, unworthy of living and chasing happiness
Nobody can be there to comfort you
No one can be there to let the rain ease
Nobody can make you smile
But yourself
And the book's stacked on the sore shelves have taught us the opposite
Through the words strung around your front door
And the shades covering your walls
You can bust that choking frame apart that you might be trapped in
And create one that doesn't shift to make the papers tell society you're normal
That nothing's wrong with you, that you are not a sinner, and that you are not hell bound
Spiraling, collapsing, destroying, breaking, slashing
The ideas of ties over flat chests and the long hair to the ones with the *******
Finding your spectrum may **** off the clouds
And you may be blinded
But the colors come out from beneath your feet
And
Diversity thrives in the wonderland
That not everyone comes to witness
Follow me down into the rabbit's hole
To discover your frame, your life, your portrait
Your spectrum is not society's
Stinging eyes to the ones who see the spectrum
And the scars to the ones who have already painted their own
They have more to tell
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 4:37 AM UTC
Mystery, slow and steady
As I watch the stars take form
Powerless in this shell
But at least it's kept me warm
Concealing the outside world
From me, just a scared little girl
With no thoughts of bravery
Or curiosity to wonder about the storm
As lightning strikes
Through the scars in my eyes
And imagined tears take form
Tunneling through the hole in my brain
Trying to find a spot in which you still remain
Getting lost continuously along the way
Finding old memories,
Some dreams previously lost to me
Leaving my thoughts in disarray
If only I could find you, you'd say
'Take my hand, I'll guide you home
And never lead you astray'
But that destiny is clearly lost to me
And deep inside, I start to pray
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 4:57 PM UTC
Do you remember when tunneling ravines would flow through our stomachs before we spoke out into the open?
And how vigorously tapping our feet felt like the only way to shake the mountains, daring to bury us alive...
or how when cold shoulders felt like judgment harmonized
and yet the dissonance euphonized in our ears as we swept our heads back into the open arms of the universe,
engulfed by inescapable laughter
Now things are different; you wear your heart on your sleeve, washing the shores of people and things that scare you with your perpetual confidence,
and I proudly observe in wonder and admiration...
Distantly tapping my feet, fighting ravines, and laughing alone.
May 5, 2022
May 5, 2022 at 11:16 PM UTC
Its Torture.
The cruel
painless kind.
Torture,
like watching her
from the shadows
as she
Loves her new Lover
while you're
still so alone.
Within my
mind Ive said
a word then
spelled out
in ryhm.
It sounds so perfect
within my
mind,my quivering lips
mouth the
word in silence.
Im afraid to try,
listen to my struggle
and you shall see
why it
is I hardly
speak.
Its the stammer,
the god given
gift which has
held my
opinions hostage.
Prevented me from
approaching her
and telling her
what she secretly
longed
to hear.
Forced me at times
to remain silent
when there was
so much more I
had to say.
This stammer
provides
cruel children
reason enough to be
even crueler.
I speak around certain
words and
communicate
more with the hands.
Kind souls
finish sentences
for me as I fight
for my voice.
Never knowing that
their attempt
at being helpful
only drives this silent
knife even deeper.
This Stammer has
barricaded what
I need to say
somewhere
within that dead
and maimed space
between
my mind and
my speach.
I'm tunneling my
way out of this
self contained
prison.
Word by
written word .
Im slowly
finding
a way for
this silent
and crippled
voice
to finally
be heard.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 8:50 AM UTC
I've developed a blinding frustration.
A frustration once latent that has been slowly building and bubbling away recently.
Looming until it finally started cracking thread-like lines across my surface,
branching off into intricate,
spider web patterns.
-
My vision is tunneling and my hands so often begin to shake now,
I feel like a surgeon operating somewhere in the antarctic.
A struggling attempt to contain a white-hot, existential rage.
I’m driving a vehicle of sentience,
and in the passenger seat is some invisible,
insatiable need to fight, **** or explode.
He’s begging me to let him drive for a while.
N.H.
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 3:52 AM UTC
I went for a walk today
my mind lost amongst music and dreams,
It's difficult knowing you have a purpose,
but struggling to know how it shall be fulfilled.
But I carried on, mile after mile,
the long grass stroking my boots,
the wind tunneling my sound
and in that moment in time,
I looked up,
the clouds,
why is it that I always manage to find solace in the clouds,
their beauty, their formation,
their whisps, their depth,
their freedom, their wings.
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 4:28 PM UTC
Ever since I was, Me,
This particular me
I was told;
I cried and whimpered-
I cried and Whimpered,
as I came out of womb,
still in wail, still in snivel,
I was staggered,
in utter astound, and amazement;
For absolutely no reason,
I Sniveled,
and sniveled that day,
into the madness I was in,
out of universe, into parallel whim,
I wondered,
I wondered:
Am I dead into my bones,
Where is the world, I have known,
The world, I have known for for 9 months-
or am I just a door, opened into storms,
May be it was for today, for few moments,
the Ill be gone !
Or, May be I was reincarnated into days,
of games leading to this game;
or was I just a foible,
dependent to layers,
of layers,
expanded into life's flare;
I was staggered,
in utter astound, and amazement;
For absolutely no reason,
I cried and whimpered,
as I came out of womb,
still in wail, still in snivel,
I was staggered,
in utter astound, and amazement;
For absolutely no reason,
Peace,
Peace,
Yes, Peace, all peace,
Love
Love,
Yes Love, all love,
Harmony,
Dear Harmony,
All Harmony,
Then again,
I jump down the lanes of memories,
She says,
Are you done trumping?
Aren't you late for working?
Aren't you late for life, this real life?
Then slowly,
I go mad,
By and by,
I am Mad,
into today and tomorrows,
anxious;
into emotions and fears;
.
Covered by joys and tears;
.
Eroded into feelings,
.
leading unto her being,
.
So,
it again becomes a helpless game,
where,
I cry and whimper
And there she is,
after all this while,
she seems to be in my dreams,
or in her dreams,
where she wail, and snivel !
Glued into her memories,
her eyes, to mine,
distant aero-plane into her abstain,
not much of caring,
yet, in her cosmic sharing;
repairing myself, into her un-caring,
tunneling a way, into sharing;
that love, that peace
that harmony;
Mommy,
in her tummy, had her, as baby, where a cell grew into body;
in some hide and seek, in melancholy
a bit sloppy, a bit swampy;
into dancing infinity,
along, my pace in her infinity-
my safari, in her serenity;
like some birds, singing songs,
of wordless hums,
just some gongs,
in shores, in her floor,
a flower out of spores,
her songs,
silent applause,
of this bird, who explores,
into the space-less, horizons
that thunderbolts,
B O O M
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
guys with tight six packs
ride atop the wave's backs
surfing surfing surfing
in the mid morning sun
surfing surfing surfing
beach days are such fun
tunneling waves
curling nicely into shore
suntanned guys
enjoying the surf's lore
waxed boards slicing through
the topaz sea's hues
surfer guys all paving the way
to the blue waters dues
surfing surfing surfing
in the mid morning sun
surfing surfing surfing
beach days are such fun
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 9:02 PM UTC
Leaning on the wall, closing my eyes,
All I could see was the vast darkness of my mind..
Tunneling my way through random paths,
I tread through those not so forgotten thoughts...
What I saw was smiles, banter and laughs,
The pains well concealed behind the cheerful mask,
Satisfied, I passed more such charades,
Stumbling for the nook, where the smile is only a facade...
It was lying there in a corner growing roots ,
Surrounded by makeshift mazes, difficult to look through,
Slipping in, I was prepared for an onslaught of pain,
Yet, the force of attack surprise me every time.
Braving through, I touched the core; very gentle,
Wincing as if it was the day of trental,
Blood singing my elegy and not yet dry,
The oil on my canvas still gleaming with pain...
I sat hugging my knees and a ready made smile,
With so much ease and practiced beguile,
The smile slipped, when I heard the door knock,
My eyes turned to see you walk...
Leaning on the wall, closing my eyes,
I could see the ray of light,
Not wanting to meet those inquisitive eyes..
Shivering, I closed and tried not to pry open my eyes...
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 3:21 PM UTC
First I’ll change his eyes
from brown to green
because I’d rather be reminded
of the algae in the pond
than the bourbon on his tongue.
I’ll say pond when I mean lake
because I prefer the intimacy
of lily pads. I can say things like
*he offered love like it was lemonade,
fresh-squeezed and innocent,*
because then the idea won’t seem so foreign.
And then it won’t seem so dishonest
when dragonflies become hummingbirds
because I envy their tunneling
nature. I can pretend that they
drilled a hole in the sky
where we can live out
the lives I’ve forged for us
through poetry, where
we are together every time.
Aug 7, 2010
Aug 7, 2010 at 10:48 AM UTC
Stars sit in the sky,
planets revolve around them
out of sight of the human eye, at this hour.
Earth revolves around the sun, a star with a name,
that brings heat, warmth, fun, daylight, somewhere at this hour.
We speak of the human condition,
more babies are being born than those that die,
is it me or has all the peaceful air, unspoken promise
left the atmosphere and gone to you know where, at this hour.
Tunneling through the ozone is not the way to get, God in His
artistry with Holy Love the world and creation, to save us, at this hour.
Wait.
Wait a minute.
I have stepped over the line, trying to tell you about the Divine.
I am like a sloth at a speed reading contest when it comes to that.
I am like the only Meercat, kicked out of the family group,
can I get a war whoop of agreement?
You all know where I try to stand,
I make it obvious when ever I can.
So when I am away for a few days,
and may not have any technology to
play
with to stay in touch, miss me please,
cause I already miss all of you.
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 1:05 AM UTC
Caught in the maze
Of amazing veins
****** cells excel
Tunneling thru’
Vessels and vestibules
Mind oscillates vacillates
In chaotic amplitude
Like a pendant in pendulum
Of wishes and vices
Divine and devilish
Wise and unwise
Pride and prejudice
Dual mind is in duel
Behind the temple
Brain at home in skull
Will and wit seated well in skill
Rein, rule or roam and ruin
Embroidered and embroiled
Embodied and emboldened
Meditate, mediate,
Cogitate, agitate
Churn and spurn
Nurture the soul within
Explore the radiant light
At the end of the tunnel
Mind, the deity on duty
As mysterious as its Maker,
The Brain behind the brain
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 10:17 AM UTC
wind, think-bits, and traffic.
they all mesh up
and dawdle through
the goon-soaked mind.
okay.
this is a fine kind of
semi-quiet.
a motorbike, revving to explode
cuts through the noise and
commands me:
"listen to me groan.
boy
am I ever
alive."
on the bike, I can't help but suppose,
there's a person.
and I further suppose a rush,
sweet, vicious rush
of adrenaline.
a lurching in the *****
a landscape of streetlights and gust,
******* screaming
straight through.
out there.
maybe there's two of them?
and the wheels just spinning and spinning and spinning.
and back here my head's just spinning and spinning
and spinning,
while people are out there
tunneling through to
the edge
of death.
****
now I gotta get up and write all this down
just so I don't feel like a mollusk.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 8:26 PM UTC