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I, after difficult entry through my mother's blood
And stumbling childhood (hitting my head against the world);
I, intricate, easily unshipped, untracked, unaligned;
Cut off in my communications; stammering; speaking
A dialect shared by you, but not you and you;
I, strangely undeft, bereft; I searching always
For my lost rib (clothed in laughter yet understanding)
To come round the corner of Wardour Street into the Square
Or to signal across the Park and share my bed;
I, focus in night for star-sent beams of light,
I, fulcrum of levers whose end I cannot see ...
Have this one deftness - that I admit undeftness:
Know that the stars are far, the levers long:
Can understand my unstrength.
Hands Nov 2012
they have sought me out
when others would not--
could not
find the world that I had
gone off to fall into
and off the edge
into the terrible abyss
where I have made my home.
I
can't find the words to describe
what this is I'm
feeling.
depression
doesn't exist,
a single word cannot describe
the vast and neverending icy oceans
that gently freeze your flesh,
petting and washing your soul
while hoping for its prize.
that cruel and dark mistress
I have many times known,
it has taken me to its darkest depths,
yet
always floats me back up to the top.
that's my problem,
it is
gravity
that always finds me--
gravity
that is on the hunt,
that chases me through the ocean
deep,
the dark-touched caverns and the
crevices full of nothing.
it is
gravity
which always finds me and
surrounds me,
entangles me in its
gentle pressure,
slowly pressing me into
a single point,
a dot on the grid.
I have truly fallen off the map,
untracked and
untouched,
though
they have hunted me in my loneliness,
have sought the scents of my sweet,
bitter tears
to taste and touch and
bottle in their dark and
sinister workshops
where the devil does the disco and
Satan serves his smile.
that
horrible
smile.
it is a wildfire
burning in his mouth,
a burning,
white-hot inferno
which burns me alive
and also
burns me when I'm dead.
I have lived
many lives,
before,
I have died and
come back from the flames
hundreds of times,
before.
I have scattered my ashes in the
chilly ocean of
night's black face,
have lost myself in the rippled edges
of the cold and uncaring cosmos.
these bits of me,
pieces and parts that are gone beyond recognition
coalesce in the waters
and
come together to re-form--
they
shine like stars,
bright and burning
white-hot
distant
points
on the silent grid
of depression's endless oceans
and night's eternal smile.
they have tasted my fear before
Coco Li May 2014
A sketchpad on your lap
then lines became alive
There are smudges on the edges
and coals on eraser.

It's very important
to keep eyes into the wild
to smell that juicy lemon
and to taste in everyone's mouth.

But the time came..

When it's hard to persist
that seeing everyone's mouth
asking what's beyond
You try to give colors
but nothing seems profound
You try to give emotions
but everyone looks numb.

You keep asking
if the contrast are right
or the colors are just dumb
are my feet left untracked?
Bhill May 2019
Watching the sunrise as it inches up the horizon is like...
Waiting for the popcorn to pop
Watching your favorite movie with that special ending
Remembering your last great kiss and wanting it again
Gazing into your fire pit with nothing else on your mind
Seeing a close friend for the first time in years
Having the greatest news delivered to you
Opening your eyes on a hike to see the most amazing, new sights
Hitting a hole in one
Driving down a long boulevard and not hit one red light
The smoothest, glassest water, to water ski on
The freshest, dryest, deep, untracked powder to float in
***....  The sunrise is all this and more!
Start you day with a
SUNRISE
What is a sunrise like for you?
Ethan Veidt May 2015
On brown earth and fields of clovers,
a glade has grown to be.
Its cool breeze and green leaves
offer peace and solace to me.

Spears of sun pierce through the shade
and paint the thirsty wood.
Its tendriled veins writhe and stretch,
beneath a canopied hood.

Atop the ferns a parascope rises
swaying back and forth.
It moves to the left, it moves to the right,
and then I hear a snort.

My dog eared friend brings to me,
a long and pointed gift.
But such a prize is recognized
to leave just as quick.

The air is filled with warbeled songs
from treetops far and near.
But an incessant buzz cuts like unkindness
and comes to fill my ear.

I see it plain above my zenith,
a machine of flying plastic.
Its rotors spin in four successions,
it floats and moves - stochastic.

This hovering sentinel watches all
with a tiny gazing eye.
But who's to gain, learn, intrigue,
by spying from the other side?

From up so far a world so small:
he sees himself a king.
Out of dangers, out of touch,
to him no harm can bring.

And though he thinks that he remains
concealed, secure, untracked.
He does not know, below the grove,
I am staring back.
playing fetch with my dog when our fun was interrupted by a nosy R/C drone.  5/21/2015
Sethnicity May 2015
I am the hunted
A ******* of Love
One day I'm Vivid
the next I'm livid w/ Fog

Wind Blows Me like ringing or tapping the Window
Spreading my scent as I went for the Doe
Unfurling on decent a Swirling my ear
Blood Curling Heart Whirling at Demons eye Stare...

No guessing No blessing these Vixens prepare
All Beasting fore Feasting I'm Preying four Hast
Come quickly Come gently Come Clawing with Grace
One Tempting One limping metallic's the taste.

Their appetite is Lusting awaiting my space
They’re shady, I'm hasty, WHY make me thyne date?
You know me You owe me the Pleasure to wait.

They'll **** me Quite harshly if I acquiesce, so
No Screeching Now Reaching My Blood Trail they trust

I shiver I quiver my Heart Breaks to run
F'in Hate or in Love I'm turning the Gun

I'm burning the forest the trail goes untracked
when hearts stop I'm unlocked there's no turning  back

Universally   Speaking
                                    
All
       Hearts      
                   Attack!
" a woodland waltz composed of meter and passion best enjoyed with Red Hot Chili peppers and Elliot Smith at evening round Seven... "
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2015
oh **** i missed a spot
on the wall,
i painted my face instead:
any creases or wrinkles apparent?
ex hominem... that’s related to a universal person,
the whole notion: wouldn’t you?
that’s the paradox contra ad hominem -
for it to be true you'd need to
be a universal person in a universal scenario...
but since you're a particular person
in a particular scenario... we're meddling
in untracked territory of freedom...
the freedom that's not coupled to doubt
but the freedom that's coupled to denial...
and here come the priests saying
the former is evil... and the latter good...
bigots and sheep ******* the whole lot of them
who mumble prayer but
can't tell you directions to the library
for the anti-****** of monday's sanctimony,
of tuesday's operatic tabernacle,
to wednesday's: the cure's friday night i'm in love,
to fatty thursday not using pancakes...
to one good friday where the crucifixion
is not repeated using actors and
the audience of shadows...
to saturday the day of binge drinking...
to sunday when lucifer said the words:
i illuminate turning helium into hydrogen
and not turning the new testament into the old testament...
to the remnant first monday after:
eye for an eye... i won't take your money
to spare you... keep that filth with you -
buy yourself a parrot... or a labrador...
i won't take this "adequate compensation"
not one bit... better me bitterer on the street
or as a satanic sacrifice... take it with you...
i'll have my eye for an eye in the realm to come;
good sir... it would be counter-intuitive otherwise...
it would go against newtonian physics
to be recompensed with money
rather than an undamaged brain.
Kurt Philip Behm Mar 2022
Wings in abeyance
motion untracked
Monarch in shadow
—darkness is back

(Dreamsleep: March, 2022)
“Ok” says the shy kid
To a block of text of advice
That won’t ever break the barrier in his head.
He's got those sky blue eyes
And a deep rooted soul
With a wide fake smile
And compassion,
But he doesn't say much,
If he says anything at all,
And he looks like he’s forgotten,
So I asked him,
“Are you okay?”

He just smiled,

And so I asked him,

I asked him,
“Are you okay?”

And he responded with an endless stream
Of messages that were carved in deep
About how he knows he's not good enough
And about the lies he receives
That he believes
Because he's shy,
And I wonder ******* why,
And he explained the abuse he gets at home
From a caring father
Who screams and breaks
Any fortitude within
The shy kids brain,

So I got to school early the next day,
The next day,
The next week,

And he told me
He told me suicide
Was a way to escape
The awful lies, words, name and hate,
And I cried for him to stay;
I cried his name,

But he secluded himself to the point of scarcity
And concerned me until
I had to tell somebody
Because I couldn’t lose the shy kid
Even if I broke his trust.

He told me of a caring father who cared about grades
Instead of headspace, nor thoughts,
Or mental health at all,
Just a punching bag for words
To exhale the stress of his work,
Supplanting all trust and love, in his child,
With desperation cries in hate;
I cried his name.

I cried his name.

“Ok” says the shy kid,
Who doesn’t know what he wants to be
Or what he wants to do with his life,
And so I’d spend every waking moment of the day
Trying to convince him that he was good enough for me
Enough to stay, in this place,
Even though it is really all hell and pain,
And he went quiet,
And then I realized I untracked his train
That headed past the barricade
The one time of day
Where he could get away.

And I asked him, “what’s wrong?”
Already unhinging the train, I thought
I should be there to dull the havoc I caused,
And so I asked him, “what's wrong?”

And he typed,

He typed,

“I’m such a disappointment
A disgrace, an imperfection
Not even wanted,
Just replaced so easily my name
With words outpouring
Digging in through my skin
Parasitic in my veins,”
He said “can you help me?”

“Can you help me?”

I said, “idk”

“Can you help me?”

I said, “idk”

He said “it's fine, I'm fine”

He said he's fine,
But now I’m sure he was thinking
That it was fine
That his friend didn't have time
To hear about how the wind
Was nearly blowing him from the edge
And it wasn’t but a breeze
Blowing light

He said he’s fine,
And now I'm sure he was thinking
That it’s fine living in hell on earth
When wherever you walk is burning
So you can't tell the difference between
Compliments and insults
Because they all feel the same
When all you hear at home
Is taxidermied words
That fake life or meaning
And are just a coping method
For a caring father
To give the shy kid
Instant appraisal out of anger and screaming,
while at school you hear popular girls
Laughing at your reactions to their words,
How can you tell?
How can you tell when the the basis of the day
Is verbal abuse, school, and bad grades?

I wonder if you’re doing okay

Just thinking of the day
I laid in the snow
Wishing myself away

I wonder if you’re doing okay

Just thinking of the day
I laid in the snow
Wishing myself away

And cried his name.
144 lines, 336 days left.
Druzzayne Rika Jun 2022
My brain is cracked
the tension lines are dark
My habits untracked
Suppressed and lifeless
The chest is silent
heartbeat faint
The loss of control
and I can't control myself at all
the cure is for those who wants to be cured
the disease makes it
harder to think
it is just so hard, I keep blinking.
Lily Priest Feb 2020
Adventurer, my adventurling,
Wandering the wild woods of newness,
Fern fresh. Smells unknown
To a nose
That knows nothing of wet leaves
And undergrowth,
Mulch that dampens in the rain,
Mossed rock soppy and soaked
With age.
Novice to the backpack, outback,
Untracked tracks on unspoiled paths.
****** to the bluest eyes
Cut softly, gently, waterly
By lakes of mountains,
Lakes of skies.
Mirror to the heavens
The untrodden, barren, open wasteland full of light.
Touch toes to ancient rocks,
Reach hands to ancient stars
And know, that as old and wandered
As you are,
They will always be new.
Clare Coffey Sep 6
Money why does the concept of money exist
Why did it replace bartering for what you need
Swapping wheat for apples that’s simple and honest
Each person is happy with the result

Money why do we need it at all
It complicates our transactions
Leaves them open to deception and fraud
No one is content with the outcome

Why do we use tokens instead of goods or services
Who decides the worth of the tokens
Why do we jealously hoard and protect our tokens
When they have only a perceived value

Money why do we struggle to accumulate it
To achieve some measure of financial freedom  
Only to see it come crashing down
Due to artificial revaluation of the tokens

Money is not the root of all evil it’s greed
The billionaires who want to dominate
To use their hoarded tokens to control
The lives of those they consider less than

Money another illusion of the matrix
Another link in the chain of enslavement
Work because Arbeit macht frei
And it’s all for the common good

Cash is king in my world today
Physical tokens for when digital inevitably fails or is not accepted
An untracked untraced transaction
Not true freedom but enough for now

— The End —