Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
“The Silicon Tower of Babel”
The over utilization of technology, its abuse, is unweaving humanity at the seams. Human health, sanity, and spirituality are under attack. The boom of accessibility over technology has increasingly subtracted from the frequency of face to face human interaction as well as human interaction with nature. The result is a declining emotional and psychological health and a ******* of spiritual values. Each individual who values holistic health should limit the time he or she spends using technology that isolates them to less than twenty-four hours in a week. They should make more purposeful efforts toward interacting with nature daily and for periods of at least an hour at a time. Lastly, these individuals should labor to replace reclusive technologies with modes of technology that encourage face to face and group social interaction such as movies, Skype, etc.
Self-limitation of the use of isolating technology will begin to correct the twisting of our spiritual values and the social and physiological damage that has been caused by the overuse and abuse of technology. In James T. Bradley’s review of Joel Garreau’s book discussion of radical evolution, called “Odysseans of the twenty first century”, Bradley quotes Garreau when he says that technology will result in human transcendence. In “Odysseans” it is said that “The nature of transcendence will depend upon the character of that which is being transcended—that is, human nature.”  James. T Bradley, scholar and author of this peer reviewed journal says that “When we’re talking about transhumanism, we’re talking about transcending human nature. . .  One notion of transcendence is that you touch the face of God. Another version of transcendence is that you become God.”  This is a very blatant ******* of the roles of God and man. When the created believes it can attain the greatness of its creator, and reach excellence and greatness on par with its God, it has completely reversed the essence of spirituality. This results in the ability to justify the “moral evolution of humankind” according to Odysseans. And this “moral evolution” often results in “holy wars”. In “Man in the age of technology” by Umberto Galimberti of Milan, Italy, written for the Journal of Analytical Psychology in 2009, technology is revealed to be “no longer merely a tool for man’s use but the environment in which man undergoes modifications.” Man is no longer using technology. Man is no longer affecting and manipulating technology to subdue our environments. Technology is using, affecting, and manipulating the populace; it is subduing humankind into an altered psychological and spiritual state.
Technology, in a sense, becomes the spirituality or the populace. It replaces nature and the pure, technologically undefiled creation as the medium by which the common man attempts to reach the creator. The common man begins to believe in himself as the effector of his Godliness. Here there is logical disconnect. People come to believe that what they create can connect them to the being that created nature. They put aside nature and forget that it is an extension of the artist that created it. Technology removes man from nature (which would otherwise force an undeniable belief in a creator) and becomes a spiritual bypass. “According to “The Only Way Out Is Through: The Peril of Spiritual Bypass” by Cashwell, Bentley, and Yarborough, in a January 2007 issue of Counseling and Values, a scholarly and peer reviewed psychology journal, “Spiritual bypass occurs when a person attempts to heal psychological wounds at the spiritual level only and avoids the important (albeit often difficult and painful) work at the other levels, including the cognitive, physical, emotional, and interpersonal. When this occurs, spiritual practice is not integrated into the practical realm of the psyche and, as a result, personal development is less sophisticated than the spiritual practice (Welwood, 2000). Although researchers have not yet determined the prevalence of spiritual bypass, it is considered to be a common problem among those pursuing a spiritual path (Cashwell, Myers, & Shurts, 2004; Welwood, 1983). Common problems emerging from spiritual bypass include compulsive goodness, repression of undesirable or painful emotions, spiritual narcissism, extreme external locus of control, spiritual obsession or addiction, blind faith in charismatic leaders, abdication of personal responsibility, and social isolation.”  Reverting back to frequent indulgence in nature can begin to remedy these detrimental spiritual, social, and physiological effects.  If people as individuals would choose to daily spend at least an hour alone in nature, they would be healthier individuals overall.
  Technology is often viewed as social because of its informative qualities, but this is not the case when technologies make the message itself, and not the person behind the message, the focus.  To be information oriented is to forsake or inhibit social interaction.  Overuse of technology is less of an issue to human health if it is being overused in its truly social forms. Truly social forms of technology such as Skype and movies viewed in public and group settings are beneficial to societal and personal health. According to a peer-reviewed study conducted by John B. Nezlek, the amount and quality of one’s social interactions has a direct relationship to how positively one feels about one’s self. Individual happiness is supported by social activity.
Abuse of technology is a problem because it results in spiritual *******.  It points humanity toward believing that it can, by its own power, become like God.  Abuse of technology inclines humanity to believe that human thoughts are just as high as the thoughts of God. It is the silicon equivalent of the Tower of Babel.  It builds humanity up unto itself to become idols. In extreme cases overuse of technology may lead to such megalomania that some of humanity may come to believe that humanity is God.  Technology is a spiritual bypass, a cop-out to dealing with human inability and depravity. The misuse of technology results in emotional and psychological damage. It desensitizes and untethers the mind from the self. It causes identity crises. Corruption of technology from its innately neutral state into something that negatively affects the human race results in hollow social interactions, reclusion, inappropriate social responses, and inability to understand social dynamics efficiently.
It may appear to some that technology cannot be the cause of a large-scale social interrupt because technology is largely social. However, the nature of technology as a whole is primarily two things: It is informational; it is for use of entertainment. Informational technology changes the focus of interaction from the messenger to the message. Entertainment technology is, as a majority, of a reclusive nature.
Readers may be inclined to believe that nature is not foundational to spirituality and has little effect on one’s spiritual journey, it is best to look through history. Religions since the beginning of time have either focused on nature or incorporated nature into their beliefs. Animists believe that everything in nature has a spirit. Native American Indians like the Cherokee believe that nature is to be used but respected. They believe that nature is a gift from the Great Spirit; that earth is the source of life and all life owes respect to the earth. Christians believe that it is the handiwork of God, and a gift, to be subdued and used to support the growth and multiplication, the prosperity and abundance of the human race.
In a society that has lost touch with its natural surroundings it is sure that some believe that nature has little effect on health, as plenty of people live lives surrounded by cities and skyscrapers, never to set foot in a forest or on red clay and claim perfect health. However, even in the states of the least contact possible with nature, nature has an effect on human health. The amount of sunlight one is exposed to is a direct factor in the production of vitamin D. Vitamin D deficiency has been determined to be linked to an increased likelihood of contracting heart disease, and is a dominant factor in the onset of clinical depression. Nature has such a drastic effect on human health that the lack of changing season and sunlight can drive individuals to not only depression, but also suicide. This is demonstrated clearly when Alaska residents, who spend half a year at a time with little to no sunlight demonstrate a rate of suicide and clinical depression diagnoses remarkably higher than the national average.
Dependence on technology is engrained in our society, and to some the proposed solution may not seem feasible. They find the idea of so drastically limiting technology use imposing. They do not feel that they can occupy their time instead with a daily hour of indulgence in nature. For these individuals, try limiting isolating technology use to 72 hours a week, and indulging in nature only three times a week for thirty minutes. Feel free to choose reclusive technology over social technologies sometimes, but do not let technology dominate your life. Make conscious efforts to engage in regular social interactions for extended periods of time instead of playing Skyrim or Minecraft. Watch a movie with your family or Skype your friends. Use technology responsibly.
To remedy the effects of the abuse of technology and the isolations of humanity from nature, individuals should limit their reclusive technology use to 24 hours in a week’s time, indulge in nature for an hour daily, and choose to prefer truly social technologies over reclusive technologies as often as possible. In doing so, individuals will foster their own holistic health. They will build and strengthen face-to-face relationships. They will, untwist, reconstruct and rejuvenate their spirituality. They will be less likely to contract emotional or social disorders and will treat those they may already struggle with.  So seek your own health and wellbeing. Live long and prosper.
The darker the berry the sweeter the seeds
plant them because you sow what you reap.
My skin is magical you see...for I am a special kind of breed.
When I'm in the sun my melanin boils, plus heat is good for my ***** coils.
A shade darker I've just became...
From honey brown to a cocoa shade.
Time to untwist my bantu knots and free my natural fro.
The curly crown of victory as my melanin glows. I strut through the grasslands in tune with my inner goddess. My legs are thick and long, so now its time to flaunt this.
shaking my hair from left to right & pump my fist in the air.
Wish I was alive in the civil rights, but then I wouldn't be hear.
People they envy my complexion, they wish they had my perfection. But honestly you can't hate on something God gave.
Melanin queen, you reign in the lands.
Zion queen, lets do a foreign dance.
Melanin runs within my veins and pores.
Melanin I love to be, I'm wading
in the shores.
A Machele Nov 2013
let the words of my heart bleed onto the page
you found me once
i knew then i was saved
from this life
from this world
put the ******* aside
everything makes sense with you by my side
thru the tears
thru the pain
we hold strong thru rain
cuz a storm never lasts
the sun shines thru the past
erasing the heartache and anger and sadness
without you my life only feels like madness
i feel you in my thoughts
i hear you in my soul
one day i’ll prove to you
when i stop trying to take control
i’ll be the sun in your smile
the spark your eyes
you’ll never question my love
just realize
it’s you and me boy
all the way to the end
we can’t escape each other now
even as friends
my heart was a locked door
but you found the key
promise something baby
never set me free?
cuz in your eyes i see the light
in your smile i can hold on tight
to the love
oh the love
it's got me twisted inside
(unh)
untwist me
sep 2012
cape coral fl
emily webb Apr 2010
The glow of a city night comes in through my window
And keeps awake my always-empty stomach and heart
Night skies look sick with green
And don't take well to light pollution
Sleep doesn't come easy to someone so restless
Though I need the fullness of oblivion now more than ever
There is no right way to lay a restless head on a pillow
To twist a hollow body under sheets
That it will lie still in comfort
Because emptiness folds painfully in on itself
And I untwist, I unfold
To accept defeat
Propped on elbows,
On a yellow legal pad in the yellow light
I hold the sign of a night spent slowly:
All forms of unhappiness are, on the inside, loneliness
The Good Pussy Aug 2015
.
                              When a
                       twister a-twist
                   ing will twist him a
                   twist, • For the twist
                     ing his twist,  he
                     three times  doth
                     intwist; • But if o
                     ne of the the twi
                     nes of the twist d
                     o untwist, • The t
                     wine that untwist
                     eth untwisteth th
                     e twist. • Untwirli
                     ng the twine that
                     untwisteth betwe
                     en,• He twists wit
                     h the twister the t
         wo in a twine;       • Then twice
   having twisted the  twines of the twine,
    • He twisteth the   twine  he had twined
    in twain.• The  tw   ain that  in  twining
       before in the tw   ine • As twined we
          re intwisted he  now doth intwine
Marie-Niege Apr 2014
If you're wondering how a
pretzel untwists its self,
it is not by the curls of a lover's
tongue—
nor by the might
of its self
but by the spine of a poet's
meek hands,
unlacing and
embracing
it's curves
and lines.
Happy Poetry Month
Ken Pepiton Mar 2018
No quibbling siblings musing in the shallows, patriotism must be dealt with at it's route markers. They are all twisted. It is the duty of right thinkers to untwist
and shout,

All ye, All ye or Oy ye, Oy ye Outs (never Ox) in free. The ransom has been paid, the game of hide and watch is played. Touch, eh?

Nature's what? Original state? Perfected state? Fractured state patched with circuit breaking dams and weirs.

Nature's God, the mind behind Nature.

whose were the buffalo the servants of christmas replaced with sacred cows offered and eaten in Outback Steak Houses at Indian Casino Super TAs from sea to shining sea? Whose God commanded that? Whose God permuted that?

Who has sown bullheads in the squash? Shall we pull them up?

Let the children pull them up. Teach them to see the tiny round leave, which is to be squash or watermelon, sosweet, or water-stealing, sticker-making ****. Goatheads in little running feet all summer long, ouch. ouch. ouch.

Knowledge is power. Power is not lost. Is that enough to know and grow to know more and to spare? Is enough abundance enough to spare and share? Yes. On a broken planet, men of both model may make enough of anything they desire, or sire in their best happy ever after scheme or schema. That part never broke. The tongue-mind interface, that fried. Listen. Wisdom never shouts, you know.
Part of a series with Indian, American Indian, Native Aboriginal whisperers
780

The Truth—is stirless—
Other force—may be presumed to move—
This—then—is best for confidence—
When oldest Cedars swerve—

And Oaks untwist their fists—
And Mountains—feeble—lean—
How excellent a Body, that
Stands without a Bone—

How vigorous a Force
That holds without a Prop—
Truth stays Herself—and every man
That trusts Her—boldly up—
Paige Miller Dec 2012
Let’s go on an odyssey, an epic
we’ll never forget. Let’s turn the world upside down,
fall into the sky, fly at light speed
and wish on white dwarfs and red giants.
I don’t want to wait for the time it takes light to travel
across a vacuum. Take my hand and we’ll reach
farther than footprints on the moon, brush off the dust
and jump. Impossible is the space between our fingers.

Let’s sail across the ocean, feeding fish and taming sharks.
We’ll swim to the depths, tickle coral,
watching polyps break free.
I want to learn to glow like jellyfish,
lose my eyes to detect predators.
We can lay out on the sand and let the sun turn water
into gas.

Let’s shrink to atoms and build proteins,
untwist DNA just to watch it coil into chromosomes,
increase ATP just to expend it.
Did you know one electron makes oxygen a free radical?
It builds up in your system just
to break you down.
I’ll be your helicase and you’ll be mine.
We’ll replicate, transcribe, translate.
Kate Morgan Oct 2013
My lungs are beating like they have swallowed my heart whole.
Divided on who she loved more, they choke my breath so I taste sour gummy bears as I curl over wounded,
a victim of one of loves ****** battles.

As I have fallen in love with every girl I have seen since I was 10.
I saw her in the playground with hair to her waist and we picked daisies like I picked her.
Seeing something beautiful and killing it for the sake of beauty alone.

I stopped falling in love when I chose the scent of musky sweat over the scent of rose blossoms.
It left a stench on my pillow so pungent and powerful I slept by the toilet which I shared my dinner with unwillingly.
Curled over out of no love I spat into the mix of **** and princess shapes and went back to the man who thought my interest in women was a turn on, so I pushed his button to turn him off.
It was that night I left.

It was that night I put down my fork and threw out my two meat and veg into the recycling to go into the arms of another woman's cutlery.

It was that night I stopped dispensing my body like candy from a machine and instead knocked on the door of myself and welcomed her in. Fall in love she said, but with me.
After putting the kettle on I fell in love with the curve between her thighs and the scars upon her arms. I fell in love with her inability to eat spaghetti elegantly and her obsession with trees.

Ever since then I have started living in my body as a home rather than a hotel I can change every week, I have begun to uncurl my spine and untwist my mind.
I now love a girl who smiles at the sky and shares food with her lover rather than an appliance.

But love spreads faster than fire and if you're not careful it can swallow you whole.

I say swallow me whole. Swallow me completely. Rip out my lungs and replace them with trumpets as I refuse to do anything but love, love, love.
Sara Kellie Oct 2018
You're wringing out my brain
with all that it held.
You've left it all twisted,
confused and in pain.
So I'll just untwist
and fill it up again.
Then . . .
. . . carry on!

Kaydee.
Carry on, and on, and on.
SLEEP is a maker of makers. Birds sleep. Feet cling to a perch. Look at the balance. Let the legs loosen, the backbone untwist, the head go heavy over, the whole works tumbles a done bird off the perch.
  
Fox cubs sleep. The pointed head curls round into hind legs and tail. It is a ball of red hair. It is a **** waiting. A wind might whisk it in the air across pastures and rivers, a cocoon, a pod of seeds. The snooze of the black nose is in a circle of red hair.
  
Old men sleep. In chimney corners, in rocking chairs, at wood stoves, steam radiators. They talk and forget and nod and are out of talk with closed eyes. Forgetting to live. Knowing the time has come useless for them to live. Old eagles and old dogs run and fly in the dreams.
  
Babies sleep. In flannels the papoose faces, the bambino noses, and dodo, dodo the song of many matushkas. Babies-a leaf on a tree in the spring sun. A nub of a new thing ***** the sap of a tree in the sun, yes a new thing, a what-is-it? A left hand stirs, an eyelid twitches, the milk in the belly bubbles and gets to be blood and a left hand and an eyelid. Sleep is a maker of makers.
Ruzica Matic Aug 2015
***
long desperate journeys
unfold in the mist
curving looping roads
tangle and untwist
searching for a lover
like lips never kissed

must we always hurt
for the things we missed
always adding hopes
to the bucket list

yearning for the times
that might never come
for summers of honey
for autumns of plum

hoping for rain
in deserted towns
picking through the ruins
and losing our crowns
Paige Miller Apr 2012
Let’s turn the world upside down
and fall into the sky.
Take my hand and we’ll reach
farther than the footprints on the moon.
Brush off the dust
and I’ll watch as the stars twinkle
in your eyes, impossible
is the space between our interlocked fingers.

Let’s sail across the ocean,
feeding fish and taming sharks.
We’ll swim to the depths
and tickle coral, watching
polyps expend.
We can lay out on sand
and let the sun turn water
into gas.

Let’s climb atoms
and build molecules,
untwist DNA just to watch
as it springs back, increase
ATP just to expend it.

Did you know that one electron
can make oxygen a free radical?
It builds up in your system
just to break you down.

One word can be the difference
between the truth and lie.
One choice can be the difference
between this world
and the next.
I’d hand you my heart if you asked.
SassyJ Mar 2016
These words you speak
These words you spin
Have infinite meaning
A definitive substance
Inject my mind
Flipping the norm
Unravel all the lies
They fed to us


Unlock my mind, unwind my eyes
Take me out of this boxes, boxes
Erecting all around me
Untwist my tongue, deject my terms
Pull me out of the sinking crane
Piloting all around me

Who gives the ****?
Just give me a fact
All 7 billions souls unique
This linear life is meaningless
Fictions to act
One day I am frog the next a beauty

The mystery of the dark
All shrugged in blanks
They say its locked in your head
A crazy existence
Dehumanised to decay
The police can’t even help
Inspired by Mouthpiece
https://soundcloud.com/user-367453778/dejected-terms
Wanderer May 2012
Soft thoughts shift and mingle
Centering on seriousness and concern
The view below one of sped up haz-mat suit production
Gears of War turning swiftly ahead
As much compassion, joy and love as they could muster influencing them
Miracles happening every day
Constantly surrounding them with the ability to choose
Lately their decisions have become swift and greedy
Blind to all their blessings, cups full and still thirsty
Birthing their children into seeds of numbness and hate
Slaves and slavers to the ravenous machine
Language devolving into just more. more. more.
Worried that they still do not understand
The quest for the meaning of life simple and secure
Channel change on the world below
Millions of acres of altered food.
Genetics mutated.
Whole species wiped out.
POISON
Shrinking back into the safety of space
This place has come undone. Wrong.
Settling in weary acceptance
Finally turning their attentions after never giving up
Perhaps they will untwist on their own...
Immortality is not attained through the ability to survive.
*But through the ability to impact.
CandidlySubtle Aug 2014
A ball of yarn full of intertwines,
Though the core a mesh of twists and folds,
One thread overlapping another all around,
Like how one path crosses many others,
Twisting, winding labyrinth,
But organized into a sphere,
And when the sphere unravels,
The paths untwist and untangle,
We realize,
That the thread overlaps not another,
But itself a hundred times over,
A single, long thread remains,
Encompassing all paths into one,
Then we finally see,
Despite the complex intricacies
There remains a single thread,
With one beginning and one end,
Shared by all,
Though we differ in between,
I am you,
And you are I.
Daniel Coleman Jul 2011
I know you won't forgive me,
But there's still hope for that.
I know our love is twisted,
So let's untwist it yet.
You say that life is wicked
And there's nothing to forget;
Then baby lets get toasted
And do something we'll regret.
Brett Jul 2021
I want to build a rocket ship, but this full moon blanket,
keeps me tangled up in bed.
Maybe a sun shower ,will birth a rainbow,
and I could build a bridge with that instead.
A walk with the weather, may be what I need,
to clear the clouds above my head.

The soggy sounds of rain, strum the chords,
that sing a song inside my brain.
A violin or guitar riff, to untwist the tornadoes,
my heart’s stuck with.
Who needs the stars, when I’ve got the sun,
to shine for me when bad times come.

My sandy feet always have the waves, to wash away,
the darker shades of cloudy gray.
These lonely lips even have a kiss, and the warm caress,
from her outstretched fingertips.
I want to build a rocket ship, but today,
I’ll just exist.
my path is satiation
rage is my recreation
no more delineation
i crave your liberation
im caught in my own mire
bound up by my desires
cage of my own creation
im stuck between relations
sacraments and medication
breathed into my being
divisions my denomination
emptiness is what i'm feeling

all my hopes ive been misplacing
i lose my head in circle tracing
lines throughout my thoughts
fight to twist, untwist, each place they cross
i guess maybe i'm lost
and so i look for signs
create them where they're not

they say that desperate times
call for desperate measures
im so desperate for pleasure
i mistake it for pain
so hungry for help,
i could drown in a drop of rain
so take me deeper
i'm already under
what more is there to loose
ill breathe in fear
im underwater
this is the death i choose

sacraments not meant for tasting
ive spent my whole life chasing
but my life and self are recreating
and my guilt God is erasing
Valeria C Sep 2012
If only things were different.
To go back to the way things were.
I'd give anything to be in your arms,
to be me who looks at your bright blue colored eyes,
To laugh at your jokes, to see you smile.
I know we can't go back, it was always just a lie.
I can pretend to be yours and you be mine
but that's not enough.
I miss you,
How? I never had you.
I will always love you,
Why? I barely even know you.
I just know that I want you,
that the moment I saw you I fell in love.
I've twisted my words so badly I cannot untwist them now.
I am stuck in reality and I cannot bare, I want to go back
to that dream, to be yours, to love you,
even if it was all just a fantasy.
If truth were nothing but a blur
Would the rumors fly on broken wings
Facts served out of can size meals
Lies leaving dents in side cars driven
By mystified stories of blusterous beings
Would history make any money
Selling its news to TV anchors
Who only twist the hands of fate
How would it come about
Where would it end if it had no beginning
What would the middle man's beat be
How would it be foretold if it had no before
So it may seem as a blur
As truth only starts out as a hazy remark
Untwist the hands of time
As history unfolds iself
Leaving manuscripts of unanswered questions
Questionable doubt lynches itself
Through remarkable words
With expeditive tension
Trapped beneath the big hand of epic proportions
Open your eyes to clarify opinionated intelligence
Impressions left in the sands of time
copyrighted by Aiden L K Riverstone

This is a result to a haiku I stumbled upon:
http://www.newsfromnowhere.com/haiku/haiku-0020.html

Human eyes are so
Obsessed with clarity. What
if truth is a blur?
kirklefrance Nov 2013
don't untwist the twisted bro..just follow the flow of the gifted yo..caught in a whirlwind moving to and fro..can't figure this **** out guess we'll never know..opposite movements from where the system will go..krazy as a ***** ******..****,crack,**** persue your needs **** who bleeds..to caught up in religion to see the blood on the leafs..men standing in a circle with blood on their sleeves..discontentment was womans down fall..Adams was Eve's..painting life with a brush under sycamores and behind houses..neighbors are the closest apart from bad breath and halitosis of course the end wouldn't make sense..its the only way to share psychosis
when i imagine, attempt to fathom, the essence of the color red
i am overtaken by the autumn leaves,
i, happily am brought to my knees ,
at the hands of the shivering breeze i,
imagine that the change is as true to the leaves as,
the reality of change, even of the color red, is to me, i
ought to remember flame thrown in crooked sweeps across my face,
fire spat against me when i sought embrace,
anger and hate, hurt and bitter traces of,
memories of crimson dipped lace, it,
was dipped in blood, see i remember that color too, but
if it was dipped in rubies it would look less like her and more like you
then, i might just be able to forget,
the times where she was wordless and my words were spent,
in her mind worth only the spit i spilled from my lips when
i, decided i would in good faith let my love of color loose lips,
shhh, this is not a time for painful trips.
divine roses i think have thorns embedded in their petals
their beauty is more  entwined, inseparable,
than those dying plants i find scattered at the will of God and whimsical gardeners
i have found earth that is so deep rich and red
that i forget about all the dreams i had of my last lover, and past lovers in my bed,
then i realize just how mixed up in my head this color is, i
twist to do what i think is untwist, my
head is wrapped up in this corundum conundrum
, but less i think than the rust flecked fist sized
writhing flesh in my chest, doing its dance more erratically than  explosions from
bombs dropped on cities where i don't live
(why should i care?)
well, red. . .
red. . .
is the color of your hair.
Sag Jul 2015
the way her eyes hypnotize and magnetize me, pulling me into otherworldly realms every time they meet mine and how intrigued I am to untwist the knots in her mind because no one ever bothered to listen to her beauty unwind or the story behind her necklace shaped like a tree or her affinity for abandoned houses and the treasures in the rubble she'd find

the way she looks at me and smirks and utters something sweet and then realizes she's a flirt so she looks at the road and tries to hide her cheeks blushing like roses and the sentimental sunset spots we found and the hours we spend staring at the stars and wandering around

the way he dreams of pink seashells in grayscale underwater libraries and how he inhales and leans his head back on the seat with his eyes closed as he takes in the indian summer and how he always wears autumn wear and rolls up his sleeves and how it makes me think just how ******* handsome a man can be

the way she comforts me with her optimism and laughs every time like its the last time she may ever get a chance to, how she lives life like she's never gonna dance to another persons beat and she sweeps her own self off her feet and carries me simultaneously

the way her hair flows in the wind out of the passenger side window like flames flicking, like fire burning, like youth glowing, like not knowing anything yet somehow knowing all the right things to say

the way he gets passionate about music and the shriek he does when he gets excited about something FOR ONCE IN HIS LIFE and his charm and wit that could persuade any girl to drop to her knees and feel weak and the way he goes weeks without washing his hair and wears the same hat every single time we meet

the way he giggles at every word one and thing and how his eyes squint shut when he smiles and how he dances with me to Led Zeppelin in Waffle House at 3 am and how he carries his backpack everywhere he goes and how easy it is to carry on a conversation and how his vibes just flow into mine and how he justifies his disobedience with the excuse that he is always down for an adventure and how happy he always seems to be in my passenger seat

THE WAY HE ASKS FOR THE LAST HAIR TIE ON MY WRIST TO TIE HIS HAIR INTO A BUN AND THE FRECKLES ON HIS CHEEKS AND THE WAY HIS HAZEL EYES BURN INTO MINE BENEATH WEIGHTED LIDS AND THE WAY HE SPEAKS WITH HEAVY HANDS IN MORE WAYS THAN IMAGINABLE AND THE WAY HE HUGS ME TIGHT AND EVEN THOUGH HE'S GROWN TALLER SINCE I FIRST WRAPPED MY ARMS AROUND HIS TORSO MY HEAD STILL FITS PERFECTLY ON HIS CHEST AND THE WAY HE GENTLY SLIDES HIS FINGERS ACROSS MY SKIN WHEN I'M TUCKED INTO HIS SHEETS AND THE WORDS HE WRITES AND THE WAY HE READS AND HOW HE REMEMBERS TO CHECK ON THE PIZZA ROLLS IN THE OVEN AND HOW HE SLIPS INTO THIS FUNNY UNKNOWN ACCENT AND HE TAPS ON MY FOREHEAD AND I KNOW IT'S A SIGN OF AFFECTION AND HOW HE CAN'T FOCUS ON ONE SUBJECT WHEN HE TAKES LSD OR ECSTASY AND HIS FIXATION WITH WORLD WAR II AND HOW HE SOMEHOW BREAKS HIS PHONE MORE THAN I DO AND HOW YOUR KEYBOARD SEEMS TO BE STUCK IN CAPS LOCK AND HOW YOU PUT YOUR ARM AROUND MY WAIST WHILE YOU TEACH ME HOW TO PLAY YOUR FAVORITE VIDEO GAMES AND HOW YOU MAKE ME FEEL WANTED WHEN YOU CAN'T KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME AND HOW YOU ALWAYS COMMENT ON YOUR BREATH AFTER YOU SMOKE LIKE I'VE NEVER KISSED KUSH BEFORE AND HOW MUCH YOU LOVE THE BEACH AND THE CLOUDS AND THE WAY YOU TALK ABOUT PSYCHOLOGICAL EXPERIMENTS AND MONKEYS BEING DRENCHED WITH WATER AND HOW YOU'RE ALWAYS "BOUT WHATEVER" AND HOW YOU GET JEALOUS WHEN I SPEND TIME WITH OTHERS AND HOW SCATTERBRAINED YOU ARE AND HOW YOU'RE ALWAYS IN YOUR HEAD AND HOW TERRIBLE YOU ARE AT COMMUNICATION BUT YOU MANAGE TO PUT IT ALL ON PAPER AND TO BE HONEST I'D TAKE YOUR SILENCE OVER ANOTHER'S DULL MINDED NOISE ANY DAY

AND GOD I LOVE THE LITTLE THINGS ABOUT SO MANY PEOPLE
BUT I LOVE EVERY ******* THING ABOUT YOU AND NO ONE COULD EVER MAKE ME LOVE THE WAY MY HEART ACHES THE WAY IT DOES FOR YOU
Colm Mar 2017
Clear my mind oh sovereignty
Untwist the roller coaster which I've built up in my mind
And make it straight as the mountain tops
Which you created in the olden days

For I am weak and weary from my own insufficiencies
And I need your light within my life
In order to illuminate the coming day

Would you clear my mind oh sovereignty
And bring me back to the same old street
Where I used to walk as a child, be it still sinfully
I'd pad left and right with my childish feet

Would you clear my mind once more for me
So that down your path I may once more see
I ask because I am not.
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2015
gift me,
untwist me,
unasked,
with kindness, caring,
holiday wrapped,
with a grace
that is
reserved for humans,
that is

precisely astounding

that I need thank
whatever deity that breathed life into
this sinking vessel this morning
for the opportunity to state,
untwisted, unasked,
thank you...
Jessie Feb 2014
See over my right shoulder, the dead, dreary, dead branches of the wintery trees, barely moving in the ever-powerful gust of wind driving this dead, dreary, dead wintery season. Not even a fervent burst of energy can move the slim slivers of silver gray metal fibers springing out from the ever-overlooked sabers of the smothered icy flatland.

See over my left shoulder, my pale, ghostly, pale face staring back at me forcing my lucrative thoughts to my shaking hands. Not even the strongest helicase enzyme could unzip, untwist, unzip the simple, dangerous, simple deoxyribonucleic acid strung down my body, running down my veins like my steaming morning mocha, caffeinating my blood, my blood, my blood and pushing me to push farther, deeper, farther into the heavens of my thoughts, the meadows of my eyes, the hell atop my fingertips – one, two, three, four, five.

Thank heavens, your heavens, my heavens they’re all there; the unsolved mystery beneath my fingernails is still lost, lost, lost like my last fourteen chapsticks. Help, anybody. Does anyone see a lonesome chapstick tube? Forget it. It’s right beneath my toes – one, two, three, four, five. I am standing on top of a gold mine—inhale the chemicals, feel the potency of the potential inside of my body, do you realize how stupid you were? I gave you my attention and you took it like fame, I gave you my love and you took it like medication. Darling, I gave you my everything—I gave you myself but I can’t say you took it because you never did, and instead you stole my muscles and my bones, and the gravity holding up my chest from crashing back down on me after every single breath.

But most importantly, you stole my magic potion—one sip of that ever-so-clear concoction has the ability to provide me with a splinter of the sun, just enough to shine illuminating light on my mind, giving me the realization that I am still drunk off of you—and you and you apparently. But you grabbed it, took it, grabbed it, you thief, and you left me here to bear the freezing, cold, freezing winter on my own. My body is numb, my brain is numb, my heart is numb, and not even the symphony of my screams is enough to shatter, shatter, shatter the icicles surrounding my soul.

Instead, all I have is a noxious, lethal, deadly, cup of noxious, lethal, deadly poison, and I can already feel a single sip of its opacity slowly trickling down my throat like molasses. And it burns it burns it burns. Look into my eyes. See the raging heat rising, dilating my pupils to their limits, vanishing the blue from my irises, and understand that the words coming out of your mouth burn me like lava, and the volcanic essence of your intentions burns holes in my veins, leaving a forsaken cavity in my chest. So the next time you have the opportunity to articulate an opinion, make sure you don’t create a copy of the key to the cage of my own personal dragon, waiting to breathe fire on your words and wrangle, mangle, wrangle your next ones.
Written for performance.
John F McCullagh Jan 2016
The day is grey, the clouds hang low, and, in the air, a winter chill.
Upon the beach called Omaha an old soldier stands; a promise to fulfill.
Full Seventy years ago this man, weighted down with gear and kit,
raced across this wet grey sand, and, by some miracle, remained unhit.
Friends who’d survived that longest day, and all the long days after it,
had purchased the bottle held in his hands. As the last man standing
he had charge of it:

His eyes, watery from the wind, Looked at the bottle in his hands:
A Dom Perignon Brut Champagne, the 47’ vintage year.
He thought about his comrades gone. Surely they were heroes all
Who spilled out from the Higgins boats to breach the ***’s Atlantic wall.
He felt the presence of the ghosts, all those who fell upon this shore.
Boys, really, almost all eighteen, who’d died
answering Freedom’s call .

He tore the foil with old gnarled hands; His Arthritis made a chore of this.
Thin wire held the cork in place and was so difficult to untwist.
Once free his placed his thumbs upon the curved underbelly of the cork
The cork shot free across the sand and bubbly foam
chased after it.

He was not a religious man, it seemed impious for him to pray
Though he recalled so many had, that day they bled their lives away.
How best to honor these fallen men? Who had pledged their lives, each to each.
It was then he turned the bottle down and poured the contents
on the beach.


Some would declare it sacrilege to let that vintage go to waste.
The old soldier smiled and felt at peace.
He’d seen the vintage of 26’ poured out in buckets
In this very place..
On Veteran's day 2014, the last surviving member of his platoon performs a last duty to the fallen.
midnight prague Dec 2010
you represent everything that is most sincere
back in days of kings foul tongue
rapture never exsisted in those black hearts
only the words of the innocent

hands  slowly ajoined
streching out slowly like the rose's pedal in her sleep
red and bloodlike
faint like and love like
your gunshot swastica hanging over the bitter palet of my tongue
words spat like fiery arches just go ahead
go along darling
run
run

escape the white fire its thickness
filled with your anomisty
joy
joy

weakness though belittles others
manipulates itself into a indominable
creature in my fists
hung tight
breathing slowly; and my knots
they untwist
I look at the fading blue lines
in these pale wrists

wake up in the mornings
smile, easy brushes of colorful paint
all over my face
strocked down my body and my chest
naked
plundering
blistering
withering
into these sentimental peices
of execution watching the tunic
spots in my vision
creating the resolutions
for a unkept land of twisted
mahogany and trees that
are just too young for me
dirt not ***** enough
you see
my lavender mixes with the wetness
elsewhere and manifest
this purity
female waiting at the end
calmly
lock the heart and rid the fury

I fathom the day shall come
when transgrations are thrown like
hurdels of ordinary minds
refinment and so far away
from you and I
I will wait on my bedded thrown
bleeding, wounded, stabbed and
alone
inject myself over and over
with this temporary happy vaccine
until I am king
and you are
Queen
Aimée Dec 2022
And if everything has an exception
Where the rule does not apply
Then why not you and I

Because no world of us is ever possible
Where our paths cross and never untwist
Except the one that is
So now we wait for the almost impossible
bones May 2014
For those who are regretful
is becoming more forgetful
ageings saving grace ?
If your memory starts to slip
does the bitterness untwist
and the frown turn upside down
upon your face?
I know it sounds bizzare
but if you don't know who you are
do they matter still,
those things you didn't do?
The reason that I ask
is I can't ressurect the past
and I need something
to look forward to.
Claudwell Jul 2014
Feeling like a misfit when the feelings unlisted
The truth is I've seen death and in that moment I missed it
Things are kind of twisted when you untwist the humor
Life becomes real and your thoughts become rumors
Problems the size of tumors
keep you shackled to the bed
Have a change of thought
the world is only in your head
Ayaba Babe Dec 2012
102
Don't be afraid to put your hands on me.
I want to feel the tracing trails of your fingertips
Traveling
To all my sacred landmarks.
A private tour for just your palms to see;
Let me guide you.
Read the rise and fall of my heart with the deep smooth grooves of your
Heart line.
If you were a blind man, how would you picture me?
Sculpt me.
Roam my entire presence with just the
Essence
Of your hands.
Emboss every feature; Figure every swerve,
Untwist every turn; Ride every curve:
This, Is how I Wish, You, To Touch me.
nadine shane Jul 2022
the paper in front of me remains unsoiled,
no traces of muddled thoughts,
blunt conviction,
or even a speck of wariness.

the solace that i had found
in creating my own gospels
was nowhere to be found.

words no longer gushed
from the corners of my mouth,
nor did it try to burrow into nothingness.

no matter how many times
i twist and untwist these jumbled letters together,
i am woefully greeted with none other than
static and white noise.
perhaps this will serve as my memento mori

— The End —