Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

Ears in the turrets hear
Hands grumble on the door,
Eyes in the gables see
The fingers at the locks.
Shall I unbolt or stay
Alone till the day I die
Unseen by stranger-eyes
In this white house?
Hands, hold you poison or grapes?

Beyond this island bound
By a thin sea of flesh
And a bone coast,
The land lies out of sound
And the hills out of mind.
No birds or flying fish
Disturbs this island's rest.

Ears in this island hear
The wind pass like a fire,
Eyes in this island see
Ships anchor off the bay.
Shall I run to the ships
With the wind in my hair,
Or stay till the day I die
And welcome no sailor?
Ships, hold you poison or grapes?

Hands grumble on the door,
Ships anchor off the bay,
Rain beats the sand and slates.
Shall I let in the stranger,
Shall I welcome the sailor,
Or stay till the day I die?

Hands of the stranger and holds of the ships,
Hold you poison or grapes?

From the seas he returns.
Our ****** feet, reunited, grind into the same grimy ground
He has returned threatened and escorted
He is the inescapable praying prey, cornered by im/mortal forces

I/we, the I’m mortal, the stunning Gorgon mask with
The dummy serpents squirming and lusting to be unearthed,
We march to bring justice to love and ***
We protrude the fiery blood red tongue at his feet.

Take flight, exhale, touch the sun
X marks the spot in the center, the bullseye, the end
The flesh creates the reality the squealers
shriek and unbolt the doors to reveal the contaminated stains of
truth

I felt the sudden change in the air
As icy breath clung I was made aware
Outside my window the shadows fell
But it was too early for night to tell
Still it was cold and dark I know
Then came that knock upon the door
"Thomas , whom I come looking for
Won't you open up for evermore ?"

I shook with fear , for all the years
Suddenly I was filled with tears
I had always made my covered bed
And in absolution I held my head
Still you have no earthy clue
When comes that knock upon the wood
"Thomas , oh Thomas ,  if you would
Unbolt the lock now if you could."

I stood in silence , made not a sound
But by the shadow upon the ground
I knew he waited so patiently
Waiting ! Waiting , there for me
"Come Thomas , the seconds few
You cannot avoid what's in store for you
Do not bother looking for the key
For I have kept it safely here with me ."

I said I was not afraid of Death
That I would not bend in my final breath
Then I remembered my father's passing
How the stillness became so everlasting
And I knew I was no more special
That life is certainly full and spacial
So I opened up the door
"I am Thomas , the Thomas of whom you do implore ."

Early morning breeze -
I'd never missed you so far!
But today when I woke up to the dawn
You passed by me like the softest dream.

Your soothing touch on my dry skin
Felt like I'd never been caressed before
Your mellow whispers into my soul
Left me longing for your company, more!

Your earthy scent and warmth exposed
Made me take a few steps towards you, close!
But as the rains peeped in, I whined and cringed
And forced you out, ending our lovely meeting!

I won't promise you I'd be back again...
But I know you'd be waiting at my door
Waiting to hear the latch unbolt,
Waiting to be ushered into a 'room' that's cold!

9:13 p.m. on Wednesday
sitting, bolted to this bar,
next to tired tropes and worn out jokes
I've met a million times or more.
And the drinks all swirl together
and they start to taste the same
               going down
               or coming up.
          It really doesn't matter much.

If the streets looked any different,
they'd still bear familiar names:
trees and states and Presidents--
Left turn, snowfall, sitting fences,
               walking home
and getting old. These towns all
look alike, with weeks spent walking
                in the cold.

And the salt on the sidewalks
might season your footsteps--
                                       sure--
a steady, frigid cadence
carried through like a threat:
shallow and petty, from downtown to home.
Alone on the sidewalk,
               it's 7 below.
And I don't know
               what that is in Celsius,
but I know there's no home
              
               for at least
               another block or 2.

I came clean in muddy puddles,
***** slush and snowbound streets,
     in towns that looked alike.
Tonight, I'm headed for clean sheets.
So close the doors, unbolt the patrons
          Thursday morning, 2 a.m.
And it never feels like half an answer
when I push my front door
                                                shut again.

how can you hurt someone so much
and just not care

how can you cause someone so much pain
and later do it again

how can you willingly take such control
how can you willingly live in such a black hole

it makes me feel the worst thing i can feel
helpless
i just cant believe how its so real
i hate this feeling
i hate times like these
i hate not being able to do anything

im gonna go crazy
im gonna break loose
im gonna break everything
break as if i have nothing to loose

i wanna do something
i wanna move
a wanna effect things
effect them how i choose

i hate this terrible feeling
of not feeling good
not feeling
the way that i should

i feel like im in this black space
i cant see anything
i cant reach anything
creating constant hate

their is nothing
solid
nothing to touch
no chair to sit on
not even a floor
nothing to stand on

no windows
no doors
no friends
nothing more
everything less
nothing there
only blackness

i feel like ive been put in this tiny box with no air holes
and each time i take a breath
i just get closer to death

do you realize
can you see
that this is happening to me
just because i think differently
just because i dont look the same
just because i play a different type of game
just because im on a different team
just because i dont understand what you mean
just because i step to hip-hop
just because i head bang to heavy metal rock
just because im addicted to MTV
just because i dont have money
just because i helped my little sister when she fell in the mud
just because i picked up and threw away a cigarette bud

i feel so alone
i need a mom or a dad
i need a friend
someone to be here when im sad

i wish that one day
someone would stop staring and help me
because whenever im helpless
there's always someone there to see

i wish someone would unbolt the box
and give me a breath of fresh air
and then tell me
that the next breath will be waiting right their

i wish someone would show me
that there are more feelings
besides sorrow and pain
more weathers
beside lightning storms and rain
better escapes
besides violence and death
better ways to end your crying
and still draw breaths

most people dont understad
that all it takes
is one person
to ruin a life
all it takes
is the push of the right button
to bring someone down without a fight

but it also only takes one person
to save a life
to unscrew the right bolts
and give some fresh air and light

to give hope
to throw down a rope
and pull someone up out of the dark
and tell them that life doesn't always have to be hard

to show that there are people out their with more feelings than just hate
people that can make you laugh
and smile
and make life worth while

these people are your family and friends
these people can shoo away all your sorrow and pain
these people can make you believe in good people again

I arise alone,
Having less time than yesterday.
Suppressing the urge to idle
I forsake my repose.

I unbolt the drawer
And make a selection.
Preparation in silence for the day
Sustaining my hunger to last the day.

I set out from the door
To burn my legs upon nature;
No hand recognizes my presence,
For the wind stands still.

Stopping but journeying through life
An unrivaled struggle resides ahead.
Then I am challenged here,
And stoically fight through fatigue.

I alternate my room
To practice what I preach
And labor obsessively to breed a seed.
A hand sails past my window at twilight.

Then confidence finds me
And guides me to orate the answers.
For I know these matters,
Presiding at the peak of the caste.

The roots of my seed dig elsewhere.
I glide into the brisk wind
Hearing trillions of hands applaud me
As I amble home again.

Unbolt this cursed door. I say,
Unchain this changing lock.
Take the mirrors from the Window -
I think I can fill that spot

Between your lines of Paradise -
Within the ripples of the pond,
To depths - I dream - to reach,
Create Internalizing bonds

Between the one I used to be
And what he may become
Laced together presently -
Three (or four) turn One.

Ingredients:
    • 1 springtime
    • 1 brain, bruised and ripe for the picking
    • As many hours as can be held in your arms
    • A handful of mantras that got you precisely nowhere, e.g. "this too shall pass"

1) Before declaring yourself insane, remember you are not immune to your own humanity and every emotion seems as though you were the first to discover it. There is, ironically, a word for this - qualia - meaning however elaborate the description, words alone cannot replicate an experience (a yellow sky; a minor key). You are as much an explorer as every other living being, and these are communal journeys taken in solitude.

2) Acknowledge that when you feel blue, it is the colour of forget-me-nots. Unbolt your door, against your better judgement. Spend time among the flowers, knowing this is what the earth is capable of. This is what it creates of its own volition. Wander until no longer threatened, but comforted in the presence of beauty. It is their cycle of blooming and wilting that makes you kindred spirits and—at least this season—you're in friendly company.

3) Notice your conscious hunt for reasons to feel alienated, undecided on whether you are possessed or defective. Recall that for all the nights spent on self-interrogation, indulging in sweeping guesses and bolting your door shut as a service to humanity, you've found nothing of significance. Consider what this may mean. (For best results, do this under the sun. You will sit beside a shadow that has seen enough to understand, and wordlessly pledged its lifetime to you. Do not take its loyalty for granted.)

3) Try to reconcile your hatred of being looked at with your burning, inescapable need to be acknowledged. You will fail. Repeatedly. Keep trying, keep failing, and treat it as a success you've yet to fully comprehend.

4) When it seems as though self-acceptance means turning a blind eye to every wrong you've ever committed, or waving a dismissive hand to all the methods in which you can wound people, re-write a definition that makes sense to you. So long as your hands can wield a knife, they can hold a plant stem or a human cheek, and that is your permission to exist.

5) Repeat until the word 't-m-rr-w' doesn't desperately warrant censorship and you can look into an hourglass without the need to smash it open.

You can run, you can hide
But you won't get far
Cos I’m outside
In your dreams
Through your day
Where you turn
I’m in the way
Bury me deep
Place the stone
Read the speech
Walk alone
I see you
What you did wrong
Bolt the door
Protect your soul
Build the barricade
Dig the hole
I’m in your mind now
Do you see
Yes, it’s really me
Unbolt the door
Tear the barricade down
I’m all around
How do you get free
You can run, you can hide
But you won't get far
Cos i’m outside
I’m pushing
Surely you can see
Your only option
Is on the tree.

They roam the streets when all is dark
mischief and mayhem is their lark
they have the most grotesque of features
with heads the size of watermelons
and clinging clawing talons for hands
at night best you stay in and not roam this land

Spinning with fury they bring destruction
tearing up trees in parks under construction
the noise of them wailing and screaming
makes for a nightmare, yet you're not dreaming
they shake your windows and rattle on doors
poor pets like cats and dogs do cover their ears with their paws

These horrid monsters of mayhem
swear and curse pleading for you to let them in
but never unbolt your doors
and never leave a window open, it's a sin
for if you do, it would be a foolish thing
as monsters of mayhem only chaos do they bring


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

Here is my heart, shrouded in thick

cloaks and fortified behind tall walls.

It now sleeps in the lap of darkness

snug and sheltered from the unknown.

The palace of ice is its home and

everything around it is frozen, damp, impenetrable.

Not even the warmest sunshine could get

this far and deep into the realm of murky waters.

The muscles have hardened with age, the blood

barely makes it in and out of the doors.

As brittle as glass it had become, afraid

that it will shatter into pieces in someone's hands.

Never leave this place, it kept chanting these

words for years now, content with the cold.

But did it really want to stay here all its life

fearing and shunning everything outside its cavern?



Here you are, explorer of the distant worlds and

seeker of treasures that are worth more than gold.

Your strange maps have somehow revealed my

whereabouts that were kept secret all this while.

What made you take this path, I wonder, you

could've gone anywhere but you chose this route.

Thrice you knocked on my doors;

I was almost there, ready to unbolt and unlock.

Wait, said the heart, don't let that person in;

what if they hurt me, we don't want that now, do we?

But you stood there waiting for me to open up,

chiseling sculptures out of the ice to amuse yourself.

Little chinks were now forming in the walls;

at last, your perseverance has amazed me.

Maybe it would do no harm to peep out for a second,

I said to the heart, but was I really sure?



Here we are, standing on either side of the cracks,

fumbling to strike a conversation.

The heart raced around at full speed, no amount

of constant reassurance could calm it down.

It was then I heard you telling me stories about the places

you've gone to and the memories you made there.

Your voice thawed my heart, the blood rushed in it

and started making music inside me.

I sat down listening and the sun started to sink,

orange, red, pink, purple, the heart stared at the sky.

You taught it how to laugh, how to cry, how to

get hurt, how to heal, how to forgive and how to love.

The heart never felt so exposed yet safe, timid

yet composed, vulnerable yet at peace with itself.

Now when it opens the windows to breathe in some

fresh air, I ask it - since when did you get so brave?

Will we care to know who we are,
unbolt our mind and explore.

Boundless lands are a leap away,
yet we decide to stay where we were.

Holding on to careless memories that slip,
we make a conundrum of our life.

Eyes turn to faucets that sob till dusk
and nurture pain that body expels.

Second chances that God showers us with
can drag us towards a utopia.

If our reluctance still shows up,
we must be foolish to preach for mercy.

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

universal mensch auf der west:

to fully play out a game of "bad faith":
you need to... succumb to something
equivalent of cogito-ergo-negatio...
thinking within the confines negation...
but...
to fully play out a game of "good faith":
you need to... succumb to something
equivalent of cogito-ergo-dubatio...
thinking within the confines of doubt:
of doubting...
to doubt is to somehow "love"...
doubt offers the same plethora of emotions
that love allows you to entertain...
it's no more:
i think, therefore i can't doubt
my existence...
or i think, therefore i also doubt:
therefore; i exist...
no!
how many people think, "think":
but at the same time: negate
their thinking: yet still exist!
good faith: thought + doubt...
bad faith: "thought": politics + negation...
it's not lying: per se...
it's just lying for when
a convenience arises...
               or is: arrived at...
if your own thinking can't be persuasive
enough: to convince you that
you have a moral "obligation":
a compass...
how many times didn't i think
about murdering:
no... i didn't think about ******...
i thought about...
poaching that ******'s hand
that unscrewed the bolts on my front wheel...
of a bicycle...
because he thought i was
higher up the hierarchy than he
was: come to think of it...
i still think about poaching his hand
and sitting throughout the next
torture of seeing him eat it...
i still do...
oculus per oculus:
an eye for an eye...
      that's that thrills me...
          you unbolt the bolts in
my bicycle: and i just might...
cause a traffic accident:
someone else gets blamed for
manslaughter?
this?! this is the sort of "justice"
western society feels like...
"feels" like... exporting?
i hope they prevent themselves from
any export of the kind...
the western european man:
is not the *******! universal man!
some people need a taste for
both the hammer & the sickle!
it's harsh... but...
when wasn't nature... harsh?
since Darwin arrived?!
Darwin made it quicker: less so...
a killer tiger can't make it
smoother when compared to
man killing man?
the tiger itches for food...
what does man killing man
console?
  give me the tiger!
              each night i think of
eating: or being given
up for food...
envy is the footstuff
of the gods; as motive...
          to **** in order to feel this superiority...
i'd rather a tiger **** me for:
food....
than a fellow man **** me
for some said emotion...
even if i were the Devil:
i would have already lost my quest
to abandon the gods
and leave it for man to abandon envy....
to hell with man!
i would never want man to
be this, here, now...
to hell with man!
              so many have passed through
the "score"....
there is no: universality of man
based on the concern to uphold
"the west":
sorry... there isn't...
people want to focus on their: own.