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I seek for peace
Only you can give
Forever I'll seek forgiveness
As I walk the lonely seas

I'm the one who's lost
And I'm the one who seek
Empty my soul, fill my mind
My being is at void

Peace is now just a dream
Dreaming without any sleep
Restless as I am
I must find who I am

For ten months, I've been hunt
Of the nightmares of the past
I don't know how long I will last
'Cause now I'm on the verge of dying

The light that shines upon you brings me hope.
With this hope I'll continue living, living but will remain dead.
But with you this empty vessel will be filled with its soul.
Then I shall rest in peace.
So this is what you get after listening on those empty songs.
Every note bleak here
Not a one is real
Each new mirror eviler
Dead end looking superior
Each and every day
With each new form learned
I get sleepier, more weary of the earth
A place where life is weepier
And death is just a church
No answers giving, no people neither
Negatives in all but me
Surrounded by the unclean
Cloaked in many toilettes
No end but waste,
To breathe is an offense
To God and to taste
And God Himself a waste
Of breath on the tongue
In the heart or the mind
An empty vessel
Just like his sheep
All've been fleeced
And everyone's a thieve
The only answer is in me
The rest of you are feces
It's obvious before our face
You've never did a **** thing
Real or lasting for the race
All you have is stink and smoke
And all the things you've killed
Pretending to love
Feigning to weep
You have no heart
Just gametes and cheeks
Like an animal farm
You deserve your pen
I'll never love you
Not again
That lesson I've learned
Of my own accord
No thanks to you
I've cut the cord
We don't thank vermin
For the pain they've given
The difference between devils
And angels is we're forgiven
What was the point
Of giving all this blood
To a world of pigs without love
But to self-reflect and -respect
And to learn a few rhymes
And how to butcher
And be immune to
Every unclean thing
Under the sun
My Father isnt solid
He was never really there
I am the son
I created him
I found me
I farted you out
And I'll flush you soon
With rains, with tornadoes
Fire and fear
What use are you now?
When all your lessons were what not to be
Oh inverted souls
My ******* is more reliable than you
No, let's change that, it's something I can count on
I won't mention you again
Give glory to what's good in me instead
Focus on what's right and real
Not the nots that are not to mention
Nothing to me now
The truest accomplishment
To give up on what is nothing
To focus on what's real
Something everlasting
Something that doesn't steal
I only need me
And eternity
She's my girl now
The only real girl
And im the only one she's inviting in
The only one who's real
If you wanted punctuation, you could have given me a computer.
If you wanted niceties, you could've given me love.
Thus is Truth embedded within Art.
Every "mistake" in grammar or spelling is also intended, for the sake of Perfection.
Cassidy Dec 2013
People often ask me "Why are you such a good writer?" I reply with a simple statement; My heart has felt many things in which the human eyes can only dream of trying to see.
Most people don't know what it's like to hurt;
I mean to really hurt
Inside
To where your bones become fragile
And the veins that hold your blood
Become cold
To the skin that wraps around you;
A walking
Breathing
Vessel;
You suddenly become grey

Then there you are;
All alone
Left with nothing but your thoughts

With memories from as far as
You can remember

What better thing to do
Then write down the innovative thoughts
That is stored inside ones mind
AnnaMarie Jenema Sep 2017
The fall days are over now,
I stare at the cold blue water,
Waiting for summer to come home,
Watching the blue sky hanging overhead,
Yet it continues to sit there,
Now a relic of the previous fall,
It's body within clear blue waves,
Gracefully diving beneath blue water,
Now but a representive piece,
Tainted from its original beauty.
This round vessel makes mockery,
Sitting on my porch, how dare you Swan Guord?!?!
Ignatius Hosiana Jul 2015
For your happiness I'll move mountains
If I fail, you my world will know I tried
My desire is like natures spring and fountain
None in history with passage of time ever dried

When lost in the oceans, I'll be your radar
To point the vessel of your heart in the right direction
And when you need to climb, I'll be your ladder
When ailed I hope to be your prescription or injection

When your enemies close in on you,I'll be your shield
I'll light your way when darkness takes over your universe
Because our attraction is more powerful than magnetic field
I'll be the rail to the train of your life,ceteris paribus

I'll walk all the miles of your voyage's estimation
Nothing would please me more than sharing your destination
Poetic T Jan 2017
As I wiped the blade the congealing efforts of
what had perspired dripped in raindrops of lost essence,
I started to be nostalgic of when it all started and I smiled.
It isn't easy you know doing this hobby
                                        its a full time commitment,
I have responsibilities. And before you ask just because I live
in my moms basement it didn't have any implications to this
and what led to my endeavours of what I do now.

"You cant just go out stabbing people that bath salts territory
for goodness sakes,


Ok when did it start, around fifteen years ago give or take.
To think about it I was quite violated by the sight of blood,
I passed out at school when someone cut there finger. I know
from fainting to where I am today the paradox of it all.
So I was walking home and I thought stupidly to take a short
cut, I know that's just asking for a dilemma of consequences
but I was running late and thought overrode reason.

"Safer than sorry my mother would say,

I should really listen to words of wisdom than to just throw
them aside and regret them later. Well this time was a moment
of ignorance and I delved into my darker side and threw abandonment
to the winds of chance. I saw that idiot and knew without a thought
that his life needed to be forfeit in the eyes of the many.
In haste I went out and without planning I just used a unregistered firearm. These are so easy to find in ponds, lakes, rivers.You just have
to be stupid enough as I was to delve into them with a wet suit.

It was like swimming in the disgrace of humanity and I accidently
swallowed more of humanity than I wish to admit. As I reached
the shore of the golf course I had found a stupid amount of guns....
Do these pools ever get dredged?? how many angry golfers play
on this field?? but I just cleaned a few out not wiping away the prints,
silly little fools leaving there prints on the weapons.

I must admit the first five or six people that were my pleasure
of ending were just **** holes, total and utter ****-tards....
I know you just cant just going around killing totally
worthy munchkins. But it was my weaving of knowledge
into the formula of departing my subjects in a manner so that
a milk carton was the only focus they would get.
Never to show that they were an item of interest but a random appearance of some disillusioned person in a vendetta of misunderstood reasoning's.

But this lost its stimulation of enthralment  pretty quickly
due to the vacant space between us. It wasn't as if they knew
my face, it was just a finger pull and I ended them to hastily,
I even felt somewhat remorseful for them not knowing the
perpetrate of there demise. and a few ran still lingering to this
existence, do you realize the skill set to hit a moving target.
But none got to far, I didn't take it personally, it was a fight
or flight reaction.

But they were always vacant of life when I walked away
from the scene. I was always throwing these weapons
after a few uses, those that had used it before there prints
still viable. So those that had used it were to blame for
these indiscretions that I had partaken in. Karma was about
to visit upon those lost stories that drowned in that pond.

Learning was a curve that was thrown, and one that hit me
square between the eyes. I had slatted the impression that
I was in the right, and even though I wanted to seep the blade
into the flesh of my perspective victim. I had to watch
the implications of what I had preserved  in that moment.
There were struggles and definitions of what was acceptable.

I still had to hold a job, I worked in a hardware store,
"what are the chances, I know. But where you would think
someone that could easily end the breath of another would
stand out only the crazy ones. We the methodical ones were
patient,  too many and whispers starting and I needed silence this
had to be obeyed and enforced by myself. Urges had to vetted
another way and painting was my outlet for these compulsions.

Each one of us had as we called it our own unique ****** kits,
well what did you think we were going to call them hobby boxes.
Me I had a ways to disable my prey, a motion to move them concealed.
I had a people carrier,
                     "I know the humour didn't escape me either,
I had constructed a vessel to keep them static so not to move
and give the game away, kind of like a straight jacket restraint.
For the murmurs I had constructed a gold fish bowl of sorts,
constructed around the neck and then white noise is pumped
in  revoking the screams because of the frequencies of the
human voice.                
                            "science is so cool,

Do you realize it took five years of planning and a college
class in science to do many aspect of this hobby.
But where do I take them, to there own home, always
checking there schedules. Movement = time = opportunity.
And this is how I have worked all  this time, consistency is
what keeps the path clear for other endeavours.
The sense of smell in each home is unique, some people
though no respect of there surroundings and who may visit.

Do realize that some don't voice opinion as they know
if there in this predicament no words are going to change it.
Some struggle, but I learnt to use a paralyzing agent to render
them motionless. Sedated only tears fall from there suspended
features. I never clean up there mess, I'm not a house maid for
goodness sakes all must be as it was. But I clean up my killing
venture so there is no evidence of there parting here.

I have a little spot, we all have our own hiding places,
research is the key, and mine was a secluded place....
I cant explain where, as that would be telling and who
knows who's reading these passages. I must admit though
this is a full time obsession, "norms, that's you people.
Wouldn't realize the stresses that happen upon my psyche.

All I would say is
                 "Don't quite your day job
This isn't really a hobby for most, they don't have the
patience the needing of planning and the waiting of
who shall gift you their last moment then nothingness.
I am wired different to you people. My empathy for
your feelings is non-existent, we are a moment in time
and I plan to silence your hour glass, your grain is about
to fall into oblivions sights and it will swallow you whole.
Andrew Jan 2017
The ringing hasn't stopped
Even though it's all silent now

Eyes are weary from the lights.
Back is aching from every embracement.  

The only person I looked forward to seeing
Didn't show up tonight.

Slightly numb. I wonder
If you even remember my name. My face...

I wish I could lock lips with you.
I wish I could simply love you.

Screen is cracked.
Just happened the other day.

But my heart has been like this
For some years now.

Someone else asked for my number tonight.
Despite her apparent beauty I told her not to bother.

"I am just an empty vessel.."
They seemed appalled. But I just shrugged.

I've been told before
How big of a heart I have

But as I've done before
I just shrug off all the worthless comments.

No need to flatter me
With empty words.

I'll never see you again.
And I'm OK with it.
A B Perales Oct 2016
We had some of the best talks,
some of the best laughs.

I got some of the best advice,
and we shared some things
we always considered secrets.

I forgave him and
he accepted me and all my flaws.

And I spent hours and days
there beside his death bed.

Watching as he bravely faced
the empty shadow of death.
The tears all fall in silence
as what's left of him fades
like slow clouds behind the mountain.

Leaving behind his broken vessel
for us to cry over, for us to miss.
For the caretaker to burn all away,
for my Mother to toss into the waters.

The dog won't leave the impression
he left on his bed.
The cat wonders the house
checking all the rooms.

His keys and his wallet still sit
on the counter.
The dog still won't leave his room.

I'm sitting in the kitchen but I'm not really here.
My brother hasn't said a word.
My uncle has'nt stopped drinking.
Mother keeps on crying
and there ain't a dam thing I can do.
Keith W Fletcher Feb 2017
So dark the night
And vast the undulating Plains
That to a red eye Rider
The enormous Beast Ablaze with light
Was barely more then a lighter's flame
From 20 miles away and Eight Miles High
In the fluorescent algae Specht water
A party was all-consuming
As the music blasted splitting the silence
Like the appalling amount of lumens shoving back the moonless dark

And yet just beyond the limits of its reach
The ink stain air poised  to Rush into the vacuum left should power fail
Unlike the stately and patient depths
Of the ever patient flashing star like algae filled Sea
Poised not .... content to let be what will be
Collecting trophies was an old Hobby
No rush to interfere
With these ever-expanding beasts Huffing and puffing in laboring air

Unlike the terrafirma and it's  Horizon curve
Where elevation or  terrain
Condenses or expands the vision seen or imagined
That exists just beyond the rise

For virtually flat is the oceans surface
360 degree of a horizon never changing
That can be disconcerting to a newbies mind
Why the sailors of old believe the world to be flat
As a never changing Horizon completely flat and round
Surely means to drop off is always just up ahead

And in that mysterious vast and frightening Darkness
Not much change has a few centuries made
Except the modern vessel pushes the darkness further back
Yet a horizon never changing distance
Flat as a plates Edge
Conjures up illusions of
That drop off ....always up ahead

Aboard the celebrating bobber no one cared
Theirs  was a world of  laughter and Indulgence
And good times to be shared
Safe and secure are the elitists
Giddy with the power carried into marriage from a long Romance
No one picked to pay attention
Upon this lazy pleasure Victory Cruise
So it was it that fateful moment
As the ship rocked  none heard the sudden vicious crack

As any breach will with Insidious skill
Growing by the measure directed by circumstance
So it could be said that those up on Deck
And that at Waters Edge
Were deeply involved in their separate dance
Persistent in their Quest
With joyous abandon the elite who ride so high as to care not
About the underlings the disposables they mistreat
Those very ones they look down on
Until they find they actually need
For the overall success of all involved
But misused abused mistreated and spurned
Not giving the rightful reward of value earned
Unnoticed and unneeded until deemed Worthy
To do for them a manual and demeaning chore

So unnoticed were they in the dark of night
Easing a lifeboat into the dark black ink
Where the joy of song of that multitude aboard
Singing spirited songs as they floated away

Just as those revelers remained
unaware of the ever-evolving crack
That has set its sights on sinking the great ship
Into the arms of  fluorescent splattered black and undulating ink

Until in a sudden and devastating upheaval the crack becomes a ripping tear
And water flowing in ..becomes a devastating disaster
How quickly then the mechanics and generating Power Within
As it sputters then as if to wink to the very patient ink
Flashing light gives way to the impatient darkness no longer held back
And in a pain unknown to those now alone
With wild swings has to right and left it does undo
And at that moment the mass of  mortal coil and Metal is suddenly breached
So Begins the flounder as it sinks slowly into that Darkness below that closes in around her

And even as The Magnificent Lady Liberty goes down
The ones great ship of state lost in the Darkness of more than the night for too long
Even at this fateful moment of last regrets or sudden repentance

Those who were just the elite could be heard to plead
As many cried out for the servants and Expendables that they suddenly  did find they need
His large and clumsy fingers fumbled
with the clasp of a leather strap.

He fed it around my neck, then
twisted the red pendant that hung above my breast.

“It’s a bird caller.” He said,
as a pitchy squawk startled my ears.

He dropped it into my smaller hands
And I pinched the vessel

Finger and thumb, finger and thumb,  
I too released the pent up call –

Each trill received an echo that answered from the trees,
I willed a conversation that started with the spring.
"You're a better unconscious writer."
F White Apr 2018
A harsh wind is blowing
Whistling and shrieking down
The peeks and ridges of our collective anxiety
Only live, only hope
I look at you often
Stare into the corners of your eyes and I catch
The tears that shine there
I examine your fingers wrapped
Over and around mine
The thumb that I labeled perfect
My own little spiders tucked under
The warm shelter of your solid bones.
We are two, you and I, but really we are one.
Farther than the sun
Way past the reaches of stars.
Deeper than the ocean.
You sink into my heart and I try to commit your face to a memory that can only exist while there is a vessel.
But no matter the Galaxy Path I am destined to take
The string remains.
This love Is Unmovable.
Copyright fhw 2018
Craig Reynolds Sep 2010
If I asked you
would you let me
affix you to chains?

And if I pleaded
would you take my heaviness
overboard with you?

Would you be the anchor
that ties the vessel
to the ocean bed?

The voice that
quietly lays down the word:
"sleep,"
to my ears?

When the gray sea of life
lurches to and fro
with its infinite unrest

with every droplet quivering here,
and despite my years abroad
I still cant decipher
all of its erratic movements

Oh, Al-Mateen,
Will you hold me still?
Because I think I like it motionless
Copyright 2010

Al-Mateen - The Firm. He who is very steadfast.
vircapio gale Jul 2012
phyllo dough considerations
veil the rigid silence
under quip, under smile-
covered cliche cud.
it is in essence meaningless,
this large party,
this braying urgency of guests

the house swims with life,
we mingle charismatic coughs
as talents strut; bouncing fruit
and swaying surface tension fizz
sparkles off the balcony of floating drinks

our tall pines are echoing beyond the yard
a sylvan soft allure of
living soundboard drape,
it needles aromatic carpet for a
*******, brink-of-dawn escape

allocate the living and the dead,
the borderline is begging to be tread.

an elastic belt extends the real,
a tool for party tricks, a tool for bending time--
i'm bounding off into the darkness
balling lightning in my dantien,
the world a trampoline;
running full i top the rail of gasps,
swinging through the arc
of thinning line to pull me back around,
stomach churning fiction-sick
with gravity inverted joltingly,
umbilically, aware.

then she has a turn as i,
as being me, and as i (as I)
careen away, the vaster leap
of single body, double mind-
it pulls beyond substantial thought

our uber-jumprope dangles
while we speed above the trees -- all is dark
excluding speckled stars
and the one, shrinking party-glow i lose below

the television orbits,
wobbles in a superstrings' embrace
all balance lost --
we're floating in a spin alone
unfocused universal locus..
stars diminishing reliquish cosmic depth
and nourish life in death

reeling eyes of weightless ******
squint to spacetime surgings
inward of the who i am--
plasticity-encasing glass of box
to offer all subverse companionship.
i tug the corded fabric
fronting interweaving screen
of futile marking where
i've riveted, lost, gazing
psychosoma scene
a modern mind-toy posted
to enframe another me we are,
even here with outside sight of world
vacuum up and lower heading
compass only gulping awe,
the breath is gone, a stinging heart
revalves its pacing flow
descending cosmogonic thread

allocate the living and the dead,
the borderline is begging to be tread.

i imagine trees again,
branches soft,
trunks my guideposts to the ground i've lost~
i'm mingling against my sense of real again,
packing leftovers, living social lies unknown.
a man compliments his speech
as "Bristling with business."
the jelly seeps beyond the pita's edge,
the pita slides out from under foil.
the party swivles on its axis,
the clowns play on, noble chefs
laughing in their pots
while i visit drooping psyche forms,
around and through glass doors,
crystal tables -- a furniture of ideal norms
to overturn. ah. i'm found again,
a bit less vast among a crowd
of nescient lives unlived. i'm
found undiscovered open all,
plainly lacking truth as well,
i'm me, this other presence,
this shifting sight,
flood experiential zoo,
this empty vessel holding two
a social fissure prying sense of self
from up a wild void..
Craig Reynolds Jun 2010
somewhere, in the gold echoing fields
the wind turns through wheat, removes its hat and bows
the barking, howling speech
dares the moon to lower its neck
'hum a tune, then lose your head'
oh the peaceful inches of the evening
where the sun and moon meet
like gentlemen dueling on Swiss Street
who will not return, cracked like autumn leafs
and twigs you walked over
in the middle, where its still
your eyes open while mine spill
you gulp, choke, but swallow
this is my sadness
brushed on me, i am bruised like a canvas
a child in a suit posing as Miklós
but not as handsome, and still not as verbose
and when my vessel shipwrecks on the shallows of the eastern coast
will you pick me out like a chrysanthemum among the dead?
will your lungs burst in silence when you check my pulse,
then my pocket?
Copyright 2010
Regurgitated images of you
Smiling at her,
(the way you smile at me)
Staring at her;
(the way you used to stare at me)
My stomach is queasy; my soul aches.

The heated fingertips of envy and
Anguish gently brush the hair
From my eyes, leaving the sensation
That I'm on fire. I am on fire;  my
Golden heart, now molten metal, heats
Every inch of this vessel; I am turning to ash.

Second guessing is something you've always
Beem good at, and you swore to
Never use it in me. But sitting across the room
From you, watching you watch her  made
It clear. I was never any good at
Getting first place; second best is home to me.

Poisoning rage is swimming in my
Veins;  desolation echoes throughout the
Cracks in my lungs and chest. Melancholy
Seeps into my soul like the first rain of
Spring. This barren landscape is engulfed by
The malignity. What am I supposed to do?

Every time you touch me, I wonder
If you wish you were touching her.
When you press your lips to my neck, I
Wonder if you're trying to imagine her scent.
When you're mumbling sweetly in your Dreams, I question if you're dreaming of her.

Hearts are supposed to be strong, and
My soul is supposed to stand on its own,
But Jesus Christ, I'm crumbling.
How can I get these foul images out of
My over active brain?  How can I accept
That I'm only going to finish in second place?
Thomas King Mar 2019
Blood stained eyes
Gaze upon innocents sleeping form,
Malevolent intent spoils the promise of blissful slumber.

Beauty immeasurable,
As naive eyes twitch with dreams of purity and grace.

Seething abhorrence guides twisted hands towards violent deeds.

Warm sweet breath exhales from un-kissed lips,
Wet with remembrance and anticipation
Of life’s wonders yet to be lived.

Horrifying screams from now waken eyes,
As an incestuous destruction of one’s self is committed
And the very soul of god is ripped from the now ruined vessel
Of what was once,
Innocent’s sleeping form.
For those who have lived the nightmare.
Michael R Burch Sep 2020
ON LOOKING AT SCHILLER’S SKULL
by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Here in this charnel-house full of bleaching bones,
like yesteryear’s
fading souvenirs,
I see the skulls arranged in strange ordered rows.

Who knows whose owners might have beheaded peers,
packed tightly here
despite once repellent hate?
Here weaponless, they stand, in this gentled state.

These arms and hands, they once were so delicate!
How articulately
they moved! Ah me!
What athletes once paced about on these padded feet?

Still there’s no hope of rest for you, lost souls!
Deprived of graves,
forced here like slaves
to occupy this overworld, unlamented ghouls!

Now who’s to know who loved one orb here detained?
Except for me;
reader, hear my plea:
I know the grandeur of the mind it contained!

Yes, and I know the impulse true love would stir
here, where I stand
in this alien land
surrounded by these husks, like a treasurer!

Even in this cold,
in this dust and mould
I am startled by an a strange, ancient reverie, …
as if this shrine to death could quicken me!

One shape out of the past keeps calling me
with its mystery!
Still retaining its former angelic grace!
And at that ecstatic sight, I am back at sea ...

Swept by that current to where immortals race.
O secret vessel, you
gave Life its truth.
It falls on me now to recall your expressive face.

I turn away, abashed here by what I see:
this mould was worth
more than all the earth.
Let me breathe fresh air and let my wild thoughts run free!

What is there better in this dark Life than he
who gives us a sense of man’s divinity,
of his place in the universe?
A man who’s both flesh and spirit—living verse!

Keywords/Tags: Goethe, Schiller, skull, bones, charnel, house, grave, souls, ghosts, spirit, flesh, death, shrine, divinity, universe
Hal Loyd Denton Nov 2011
The Walk that Dreams Brought
The night lies dark the sky has a dull brightness you start on a midnight stroll and then your feet ascend
On thin air at first you turn and look back and below then with exhilaration and freedom you move as a
Disconnected shadow how it feels to be bathed with the night air without objects or obstructions your
Most Tender feelings begin to emerge the swelling of a symphony plays all around as you go in a flow
That falls and rises the softness continues to dissolve the hard reality then the wooly lambs come and
Gather at your feet like you are the shepherd together you move on through the dark rhythms the last
Thermals of a pleasant warm day let you rise and float in nomadic wonder no destination unless it is
An intersection with pure joy you know blessing untold richer and bolder comes the thoughts then a
Succession of doors made of a cloudy rainbow of colors and when you enter you start to actively live
Cherished dreams those ones that paired you with your heroes and those that you always crave and
Once and a great while they come true in dreams in the most peaceful sleep you luxuriate all emotions
Spills out like someone is pouring out your soul to the vestige of love and appreciation and any where
You have long desired to visit you look up and it is coming into view your laughter can be heard loud and
Clear and sweet tears spill upon your pillow the moon that glows make them the richest silver this
Wealth has no end it extends through your will it makes the richest folds of a garment designed by
Deepest understanding and longing that which makes you perfectly human and strains of divine are
Shining through a vessel that is in tuned with its creator there is that never ending possibilities that just
Keeps expanding just like the universe it is without end just like you one day soon the curtain will be
Drawn back and all dreams will pale in comparison to your new life and home your hair will be colored
By the brightest light what a sight truly your skin will be whitest porcelain you will have the perfect finest
Linen gown you will truly float like this piece has spoken of this is not a dream but a promise that is true you
Will soon cross into this paradise that was made for you and I by an uncommon dreamer that knows the
Deep longings of your soul so spare no effort but make ready for that great day
I saw your from across a crowded room
Our eyes connected and sparks flew
I slid in between the waves of humanity
Finding my way over the ocean to you

I made port in your eyes,
And stared into the bay
I'll stay overnight,
And be gone before mid-day

A maiden voyage love affair
Is all this ever was
this ship came rolling in
And stumbled out so fair
The vessel of myself
smelling of ***** and your hair

I think of you later,
When the seas give way to violent motion
You're the flavor that I savored,
Of salt and lover's oceans
JadedSoul Aug 2014
My heat still beats
My lungs still breathe
My muscles move
My eyes still see

But my heart pumps black blood
Through frozen veins

Restricted lungs
Force mud
Into my veins

Muscles on auto
Do tasks that need no brain

Eyes,
dim as frosted windows
Reveal an empty vessel.

A lifeless soul
Bound by mortal coil

The lights are on
But nobody will be home again!
Cat Marshall Aug 2017
turned self hatred to ego death
order out of chaotic mess
I have sinned, I must confess
from denying that I am blessed

for I’m a vessel for the power
big and bright, to which I cower
self-protecting, sad wallflower
procrastinate my finest hour

my heart expired, my talents latent
the Universe frowns at complacence
signalled for change in ways so blatant
uncovered what was truly fated

so “no more!”, I said aloud
in a tone uncanny and proud
gathered the few truths I found
stood for justice, stood my ground

wielded tools for reinvention
based on only good intention
so whilst my past begs for a mention
I’m better pressed to break convention

break myself and forge another
birth my own daughter and mother
court my own subconscious lover
love yourself, then love each other

because life’s too short to **** yourself
it’s got that sorted, watch your health
harness your power, know your wealth
you’ll gather dust sat on that shelf
Ash in my fire
Harness my desire
Cool my flames
This kind of martyrdom has caressed my soul
And at times i wish to be defamed
As insane as that sounds
The solid ground upon which I was standing has been shaken
Transfixed into a new vessel's identity dreaming
I wouldn't be lying if I said that I wish to run screaming
Though with the upgrades coursing my system redeeming
This thought is but fleeting
I wish to know,
do you see this flow clandestine in the making?
With only ephemeral woe,
the words I chose to toss on throes
can only meld into this conviction
For I must confess i look best unkempt
I feel that scruffy look whispers my hidden contempt
This life's diluted, sweet smiles all the while twisted and bent
Don't fret emotions spent now my dearest of loves
I hear a sigh from my brethren above
As they watch me write lines on parchment
inclined to my predisposition
Listen to me now dear, it is not conditioned
and the furthest from fiction
As pretentious as it sounds
I get shivers
With simultaneous joy
As I see your eyes glisten
Written before the last wall was disestablished
C Jul 2015
An old friend turning toxic,
I dream of ejecting her from this blissful vessel.
The black muck when she speaks
now splattered stains on your newly ironed dress shirt.
Moss melting the creases in her teeth:
the decorated corridor for her thoughts now a putrid swamp that once made you smile.
Brittle lashes, cracking and crumbling from icky cosmetics I always despised.
A crust forming on the electric blue eyeshadow
congealing her psychotic stare that leaves me optimistic for her slumber.
But even when in seemingly peaceful sleep, she is screaming in my dreams.
Indigo veins as floss plucking at her gums, crimson dripping down her lips and off her chin.
Her freckles denting her cheeks: sickly chicken pox amidst the blackheads.
A scraggly witches broom pressed into her scalp where her hair would be. It fits her well.
Her hands hot with hatred, concealing a secret only she could know.
She is irreversible.
Her toxicity taking ahold of me: an irrepressible poison to my past, fogging my future.
But she is not what you know.
You are blinded by this auto-pilot, and she steers me into the earth.
Every day, each minute, always breathing, in my dreams, she is the me that you will never see.
And as horrid as she is, and as fearful as I am, I pray she will return to me someday.
There was mist up high on the mountain
There were bones along the shore,
And a line of caves that met the waves
Around that evil tor,
There were screeches in the forest
But they weren’t from parakeets,
And the heavy sound of breathing
Late at night, and from the deeps.

While the waters round this island
Seemed to mutter from the reef,
When the tide would urge them forward
They would pile and then retreat,
It was if it was forbidden
For the waves to beat the shore
As an ancient Atavism
Gave out its primal roar.

So we camped out there on the beaches
Within sight of Hartley’s wreck,
That the reef had torn a hole in,
There was water to the deck,
It sat forlorn on a *******
Within reach, when the tide was low,
We hadn’t a plank so the vessel sank
And we had nowhere to go.

We lived on fish that we netted,
We traced out ‘Help’ on the sand,
We hoped that a plane from overhead
Would rescue our little band,
There was John who was the bosun,
There was Jane who cooked and chored,
Myself for the navigation,
And Hartley, that made four.

But seven others were lost at sea
Were afloat beyond the reef,
The tiger sharks had left their marks
With their cruel razor teeth,
So we kept a silent vigil
With the single flare we had,
And hoped that Keith would bring relief
In the merchant ‘Iron Clad’.

(for alternative ending, jump to *)

‘We need to go in the forest,’
Said Jane in a bleak despair,
‘We need to find what fruit and berries
Might just be growing there.’
So John went off with a bucket
As the sun began to rise,
But soon was back, he had been attacked
And was missing both his eyes.

‘A thing rose up in the forest,
It had no shape or form,
It just looked black but it still attacked
And I felt my face was torn,
It had a gutteral growl as old
As the earth that formed this place,
A sense of aeons before the storm
That created the human race.’

He died that night with a whimper,
With everyone else asleep,
I began to shake as this evil shape
Was taking him up the beach,
It dragged him into the forest,
Food for its larder there,
And I so scared and unprepared
That I fired our only flare.

It lit the heavens above us,
It lit up the sand, and then
It lit the trees in the forest
And the bones of other men,
When Hartley woke with a curse and spoke
The most welcoming words he had,
As Jane got up from her sleep, he cried,
‘By God, there’s the ‘Iron Clad!’

(Alternate ending from *)

When Hartley woke in the morning
We saw he had gone quite mad,
For John lay dead with a bleeding head
And a wound where he’d been stabbed,
While Jane took off and ran up the beach
To shelter in one of the caves,
And I was forced to listen to him
Engaged in one of his raves.

He was blaming John for wrecking the ship
And blaming me for the tack,
‘You were the Navigator, Jim,
So what do you say to that?’
I said that the fog was thick and deep
When we drove up onto the reef,
‘And you should have been up on the deck
Not down in a drunken sleep!’

He went for me with the rusty blade
He’d used already on John,
But I was younger and far too quick
As he came stumbling on,
I wrestled him to the ground and found
The knife had entered his side,
Then belching blood on the sand he cursed,
Lay on the beach, and died.

When I went to look for Jane I heard
A single scream in the cave,
Where a giant octopus held her,
I was just too late to save,
It’s tentacles were ten feet long
And were wrapped around her frame,
Though I slashed and cut off three of them
She was dead before I came.

So I wandered back to the lonely beach,
The only one alive,
My heart so low at this latest show
That I thought of suicide,
But then out there in my bleak despair
I fired the flare we had,
And there, beyond the reef I saw
The shape of the ‘Iron Clad’.

David Lewis Paget
Amanda Ball Nov 2010
“alas it is uncertain whether wife Creusa, snatched from wretched me
by fate, had stopped, or she wandered from the road or exhausted sat down…
I did not look back for her, probably lost and I did not turn my mind back to her.”
(The Aeneid, Book 2, 738- 741)

I am woman-vessel.
Making son, caring for
a father, not mine.
I am means.
The perfect woman
In my mindless action,
My blank maternal motions.
I excuse
And then spur forward.
When I walk, I follow
(Even in fire-stained streets
When humanity demands
Pace be quickened,
I follow and pause).
When I fail,
It is as means
Of country,
His country,
Never mine.
I fall, like so much
Ballast,
Cut away,
To lighten his load,
Lengthen his stride,
The perfect bride
In my execution of fate.
The story goes on,
Able because of
the part I played
And then
My Removal.
Kyle Powers Apr 2014
Her press on nails graced her sunken in cheek
Tracing the bone that seemed to cut like glass
Remembering days of endless driving
Her high heels out the window
The sun whispered sweet nothings
But no one knew how personal those were
And here she is
At the vanity of a ****** motel
Dusting powder across lesions that spattered her skin
****** patches on her skin
Just like holes in her skin
She cries
Removing the brown wig that she tossed for years
Brushing it in her hands
The tears held on as if they didn’t want to let go
Standing
She slips off her briefs
Gazing into the mirror
Horrified at the person staring back at her
Invisible bones now visible
Crevices and cavities too deep
Webs of veins that were colored too brightly
Wearing the anatomy of a man that was no longer there
A body not worth surgery
Wiping sweat off her forehead
Smearing her drawn on eyebrows
All she can hear is
“Your mother and I gave birth to a son named Raymond.
What happened?”
That name echoed in her head
Drawing pleads from her ears
She collapsed
Her thighs bruised from one too many needle-******
Tracing each hole with her finger
As if to draw out an answer
She
A forgotten woman
Who only tried to cope
Her t-shirts were too big
“Raymond, Your T-Cell count is too low”
A forgotten woman
Who only tried to cope
“Is this ‘cause you’re a ******, Raymond?”
A forgotten woman
Who only tried to cope
“Raymond, there is no cure for AIDS”
She wept
Mascara staining her pale face
Press on nails clutching her arms
Hugging herself
Because no one else was would
Rayon died alone
She was no longer forced to love from an infected vessel
To hurt from a torn home
To pray on laced knees
This hotel room became a mausoleum
Smelling of death and perfume
Rayon was a forgotten woman
Who only needed to cope
But exiled by a community of people
For loving too much
Tyler Derksen Oct 2011
I don't feel anything anymore,
Too many times that sorry has been counted.
How can I love you when I can't love myself,
The only bit left in me has been given to you.

My hearts grown hard from the love not received,
An empty vessel in need of someone who in me believes.
Myself is hard to find when all I want to do is impress,
But somehow you bring me forth and carry me from my distress.

Who would want to be with me,
A broken messed up man.
A boy is more like it,
In search of some impossible dam.

"She's out there", they say, "you'll find one someday."
Well I found her in May,

And through June I was found.
I've been through this before,
In past years where my heart lay.

You help me to be myself,
Can't you see it's what I've been longing for.
I didn't expect it to happen this way,
And I'm wishing that you'd stay.

So may I see you, read you or hold you up and flaunt,
Can I kiss you to find out if it's really what I want!
Ayaba Babe Jan 2013
How are you going to tell me about my heart if you've never been in it?

-The lock to your heart is my deep refrain, the path that takes me there may not lead me out again.

Six deadbolts and a wall great like China. Whispering L words while touring my ******. But my heart is not an exhibition. We all seem to love so different, would I just be a sight see should I let you in it?

-Your body is my vacation for exploration, a ticket with no expiration. Head to toe, anywhere on you is my destination. Sight see if thats the thought for you, but to see the sight is what I want to do.  The seductive me wants your toes curled due to warm embrace. My inner dog wants to see your O face.

The wife of a traveler, I print your boarding pass. Cruising along the waves of my saliva; hiking the mountains of my ***. My expedition is one of many, but i think that you should pick it. Theres only one flight departing, and i'm giving you the ticket. The life of an explorer, Oh Captain. The landmarks of my body are for you to conquer and explore. But once you leave your footprint will you set sail from my shore?

-A Brazilian wax or a landing strip, either or it doesnt matter they both point me to your lips. Your shores I see as we watch the sunset, an instinctive kiss, you sigh but its breathless.  As the night falls on this restless traveler, I'll take that one-way red eye ticket; final stop is to have her. I am the Captain of this ship and my journey is unbound, but the question is: when I set sail on your seas will you keep me safe and sound?

Captain, Oh Captain;  I long to be the vessel you navigate. The compass of direction magnetizing towards our fate. All the lonely nights at sea, wont you promise to keep afloat? If you are the propellers, I promise to be the boat. I wish only to fill your soul with warmth and pleasure. I have dived to the bottom of the seven seas, but I have already found my treasure. I want to sail the world with you; full speed until the end of time. But I need to cut your heart out, before I hand you mine.*

-If its yours to replace mine, simultaneously, is a must, because to give you my soul, takes a strong being to entrust, the strongest chess peice, queen to this king, you are my fruit bearer, my last name to follow yours at rear. I'll give you the scissors, but you better cut gently, and if you cut the wrong cord I will not put you down gently.

Oh Captain, Dear Captain, but surely your heart still beats true. Surely the blood is still warm and rich, not deprived oxygen blue. You must understand where I'm coming apart, my intent is not to sever your pretty little heart. I present to you my heart, served on a golden medallion token, But I fear your blood will turn cold once you see that it is broken. Let us not use scissors, the pierce will be too sharp. Let us use our fingers to grip each others heart. I will pump my love through your atriums and ventricles as if they were my own, disregarding any glitches...if you will love my raggedy heart, mending it with stitches

-Your words of kindness, your love not sorrow, pumps through my veins, heart beating days beyond tomorrow. My time will remove the stitches, your heart unscathed, no imperfections, no glitches. Turbulent may be the path ahead, yet a steady path this Captain will tread. Along on this voyage, your light makes bliss, and as long as your heart beats, a beat mine won't skip. I do for you as I won't do for others, fly a path so true, only seen by lovers.

*So we fly to the moon and we never come down. Queen, so pristine, lounging afloat my crown. So then I am the locket, and you are the key. The combination to set the spell free. I'll be your wonder woman; make my body your home. Yours entwined with mine; sultry metronome. The sweet steady beating of your heart is evoking; and if you look once again you will see my heart creeping open.
a collaboration with Jason.
And Ulysses answered, “King Alcinous, it is a good thing to hear a
bard with such a divine voice as this man has. There is nothing better
or more delightful than when a whole people make merry together,
with the guests sitting orderly to listen, while the table is loaded
with bread and meats, and the cup-bearer draws wine and fills his
cup for every man. This is indeed as fair a sight as a man can see.
Now, however, since you are inclined to ask the story of my sorrows,
and rekindle my own sad memories in respect of them, I do not know how
to begin, nor yet how to continue and conclude my tale, for the hand
of heaven has been laid heavily upon me.
  “Firstly, then, I will tell you my name that you too may know it,
and one day, if I outlive this time of sorrow, may become my there
guests though I live so far away from all of you. I am Ulysses son
of Laertes, reknowned among mankind for all manner of subtlety, so
that my fame ascends to heaven. I live in Ithaca, where there is a
high mountain called Neritum, covered with forests; and not far from
it there is a group of islands very near to one another—Dulichium,
Same, and the wooded island of Zacynthus. It lies squat on the
horizon, all highest up in the sea towards the sunset, while the
others lie away from it towards dawn. It is a rugged island, but it
breeds brave men, and my eyes know none that they better love to
look upon. The goddess Calypso kept me with her in her cave, and
wanted me to marry her, as did also the cunning Aeaean goddess
Circe; but they could neither of them persuade me, for there is
nothing dearer to a man than his own country and his parents, and
however splendid a home he may have in a foreign country, if it be far
from father or mother, he does not care about it. Now, however, I will
tell you of the many hazardous adventures which by Jove’s will I met
with on my return from Troy.
  “When I had set sail thence the wind took me first to Ismarus, which
is the city of the Cicons. There I sacked the town and put the
people to the sword. We took their wives and also much *****, which we
divided equitably amongst us, so that none might have reason to
complain. I then said that we had better make off at once, but my
men very foolishly would not obey me, so they stayed there drinking
much wine and killing great numbers of sheep and oxen on the sea
shore. Meanwhile the Cicons cried out for help to other Cicons who
lived inland. These were more in number, and stronger, and they were
more skilled in the art of war, for they could fight, either from
chariots or on foot as the occasion served; in the morning, therefore,
they came as thick as leaves and bloom in summer, and the hand of
heaven was against us, so that we were hard pressed. They set the
battle in array near the ships, and the hosts aimed their
bronze-shod spears at one another. So long as the day waxed and it was
still morning, we held our own against them, though they were more
in number than we; but as the sun went down, towards the time when men
loose their oxen, the Cicons got the better of us, and we lost half
a dozen men from every ship we had; so we got away with those that
were left.
  “Thence we sailed onward with sorrow in our hearts, but glad to have
escaped death though we had lost our comrades, nor did we leave till
we had thrice invoked each one of the poor fellows who had perished by
the hands of the Cicons. Then Jove raised the North wind against us
till it blew a hurricane, so that land and sky were hidden in thick
clouds, and night sprang forth out of the heavens. We let the ships
run before the gale, but the force of the wind tore our sails to
tatters, so we took them down for fear of shipwreck, and rowed our
hardest towards the land. There we lay two days and two nights
suffering much alike from toil and distress of mind, but on the
morning of the third day we again raised our masts, set sail, and took
our places, letting the wind and steersmen direct our ship. I should
have got home at that time unharmed had not the North wind and the
currents been against me as I was doubling Cape Malea, and set me
off my course hard by the island of Cythera.
  “I was driven thence by foul winds for a space of nine days upon the
sea, but on the tenth day we reached the land of the Lotus-eater,
who live on a food that comes from a kind of flower. Here we landed to
take in fresh water, and our crews got their mid-day meal on the shore
near the ships. When they had eaten and drunk I sent two of my company
to see what manner of men the people of the place might be, and they
had a third man under them. They started at once, and went about among
the Lotus-eaters, who did them no hurt, but gave them to eat of the
lotus, which was so delicious that those who ate of it left off caring
about home, and did not even want to go back and say what had happened
to them, but were for staying and munching lotus with the
Lotus-eater without thinking further of their return; nevertheless,
though they wept bitterly I forced them back to the ships and made
them fast under the benches. Then I told the rest to go on board at
once, lest any of them should taste of the lotus and leave off wanting
to get home, so they took their places and smote the grey sea with
their oars.
  “We sailed hence, always in much distress, till we came to the
land of the lawless and inhuman Cyclopes. Now the Cyclopes neither
plant nor plough, but trust in providence, and live on such wheat,
barley, and grapes as grow wild without any kind of tillage, and their
wild grapes yield them wine as the sun and the rain may grow them.
They have no laws nor assemblies of the people, but live in caves on
the tops of high mountains; each is lord and master in his family, and
they take no account of their neighbours.
  “Now off their harbour there lies a wooded and fertile island not
quite close to the land of the Cyclopes, but still not far. It is
overrun with wild goats, that breed there in great numbers and are
never disturbed by foot of man; for sportsmen—who as a rule will
suffer so much hardship in forest or among mountain precipices—do not
go there, nor yet again is it ever ploughed or fed down, but it lies a
wilderness untilled and unsown from year to year, and has no living
thing upon it but only goats. For the Cyclopes have no ships, nor
yet shipwrights who could make ships for them; they cannot therefore
go from city to city, or sail over the sea to one another’s country as
people who have ships can do; if they had had these they would have
colonized the island, for it is a very good one, and would yield
everything in due season. There are meadows that in some places come
right down to the sea shore, well watered and full of luscious
grass; grapes would do there excellently; there is level land for
ploughing, and it would always yield heavily at harvest time, for
the soil is deep. There is a good harbour where no cables are
wanted, nor yet anchors, nor need a ship be moored, but all one has to
do is to beach one’s vessel and stay there till the wind becomes
fair for putting out to sea again. At the head of the harbour there is
a spring of clear water coming out of a cave, and there are poplars
growing all round it.
  “Here we entered, but so dark was the night that some god must
have brought us in, for there was nothing whatever to be seen. A thick
mist hung all round our ships; the moon was hidden behind a mass of
clouds so that no one could have seen the island if he had looked
for it, nor were there any breakers to tell us we were close in
shore before we found ourselves upon the land itself; when, however,
we had beached the ships, we took down the sails, went ashore and
camped upon the beach till daybreak.
  “When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, we admired
the island and wandered all over it, while the nymphs Jove’s daughters
roused the wild goats that we might get some meat for our dinner. On
this we fetched our spears and bows and arrows from the ships, and
dividing ourselves into three bands began to shoot the goats. Heaven
sent us excellent sport; I had twelve ships with me, and each ship got
nine goats, while my own ship had ten; thus through the livelong day
to the going down of the sun we ate and drank our fill,—and we had
plenty of wine left, for each one of us had taken many jars full
when we sacked the city of the Cicons, and this had not yet run out.
While we were feasting we kept turning our eyes towards the land of
the Cyclopes, which was hard by, and saw the smoke of their stubble
fires. We could almost fancy we heard their voices and the bleating of
their sheep and goats, but when the sun went down and it came on dark,
we camped down upon the beach, and next morning I called a council.
  “‘Stay here, my brave fellows,’ said I, ‘all the rest of you,
while I go with my ship and exploit these people myself: I want to see
if they are uncivilized savages, or a hospitable and humane race.’
  “I went on board, bidding my men to do so also and loose the
hawsers; so they took their places and smote the grey sea with their
oars. When we got to the land, which was not far, there, on the face
of a cliff near the sea, we saw a great cave overhung with laurels. It
was a station for a great many sheep and goats, and outside there
was a large yard, with a high wall round it made of stones built
into the ground and of trees both pine and oak. This was the abode
of a huge monster who was then away from home shepherding his
flocks. He would have nothing to do with other people, but led the
life of an outlaw. He was a horrid creature, not like a human being at
all, but resembling rather some crag that stands out boldly against
the sky on the top of a high mountain.
  “I told my men to draw the ship ashore, and stay where they were,
all but the twelve best among them, who were to go along with
myself. I also took a goatskin of sweet black wine which had been
given me by Maron, Apollo son of Euanthes, who was priest of Apollo
the patron god of Ismarus, and lived within the wooded precincts of
the temple. When we were sacking the city we respected him, and spared
his life, as also his wife and child; so he made me some presents of
great value—seven talents of fine gold, and a bowl of silver, with
twelve jars of sweet wine, unblended, and of the most exquisite
flavour. Not a man nor maid in the house knew about it, but only
himself, his wife, and one housekeeper: when he drank it he mixed
twenty parts of water to one of wine, and yet the fragrance from the
mixing-bowl was so exquisite that it was impossible to refrain from
drinking. I filled a large skin with this wine, and took a wallet full
of provisions with me, for my mind misgave me that I might have to
deal with some savage who would be of great strength, and would
respect neither right nor law.
  “We soon reached his cave, but he was out shepherding, so we went
inside and took stock of all that we could see. His cheese-racks
were loaded with cheeses, and he had more lambs and kids than his pens
could hold. They were kept in separate flocks; first there were the
hoggets, then the oldest of the younger lambs and lastly the very
young ones all kept apart from one another; as for his dairy, all
the vessels, bowls, and milk pails into which he milked, were swimming
with whey. When they saw all this, my men begged me to let them
first steal some cheeses, and make off with them to the ship; they
would then return, drive down the lambs and kids, put them on board
and sail away with them. It would have been indeed better if we had
done so but I would not listen to them, for I wanted to see the
owner himself, in the hope that he might give me a present. When,
however, we saw him my poor men found him ill to deal with.
  “We lit a fire, offered some of the cheeses in sacrifice, ate others
of them, and then sat waiting till the Cyclops should come in with his
sheep. When he came, he brought in with him a huge load of dry
firewood to light the fire for his supper, and this he flung with such
a noise on to the floor of his cave that we hid ourselves for fear
at the far end of the cavern. Meanwhile he drove all the ewes
inside, as well as the she-goats that he was going to milk, leaving
the males, both rams and he-goats, outside in the yards. Then he
rolled a huge stone to the mouth of the cave—so huge that two and
twenty strong four-wheeled waggons would not be enough to draw it from
its place against the doorway. When he had so done he sat down and
milked his ewes and goats, all in due course, and then let each of
them have her own young. He curdled half the milk and set it aside
in wicker strainers, but the other half he poured into bowls that he
might drink it for his supper. When he had got through with all his
work, he lit the fire, and then caught sight of us, whereon he said:
  “‘Strangers, who are you? Where do sail from? Are you traders, or do
you sail the as rovers, with your hands against every man, and every
man’s hand against you?’
  “We were frightened out of our senses by his loud voice and
monstrous form, but I managed to say, ‘We are Achaeans on our way home
from Troy, but by the will of Jove, and stress of weather, we have
been driven far out of our course. We are the people of Agamemnon, son
of Atreus, who has won infinite renown throughout the whole world,
by sacking so great a city and killing so many people. We therefore
humbly pray you to show us some hospitality, and otherwise make us
such presents as visitors may reasonably expect. May your excellency
fear the wrath of heaven, for we are your suppliants, and Jove takes
all respectable travellers under his protection, for he is the avenger
of all suppliants and foreigners in distress.’
  “To this he gave me but a pitiless answer, ‘Stranger,’ said he, ‘you
are a fool, or else you know nothing of this country. Talk to me,
indeed, about fearing the gods or shunning their anger? We Cyclopes do
not care about Jove or any of your blessed gods, for we are ever so
much stronger than they. I shall not spare either yourself or your
companions out of any regard for Jove, unless I am in the humour for
doing so. And now tell me where you made your ship fast when you
came on shore. Was it round the point, or is she lying straight off
the land?’
  “He said this to draw me out, but I was too cunning to be caught
in that way, so I answered with a lie; ‘Neptune,’ said I, ’sent my
ship on to the rocks at the far end of your country, and wrecked it.
We were driven on to them from the open sea, but I and those who are
with me escaped the jaws of death.’
  “The cruel wretch vouchsafed me not one word of answer, but with a
sudden clutch he gripped up two of my men at once and dashed them down
upon the ground as though they had been puppies. Their brains were
shed upon the ground, and the earth was wet with their blood. Then
he tore them limb from limb and supped upon them. He gobbled them up
like a lion in the wilderness, flesh, bones, marrow, and entrails,
without leaving anything uneaten. As for us, we wept and lifted up our
hands to heaven on seeing such a horrid sight, for we did not know
what else to do; but when the Cyclops had filled his huge paunch,
and had washed down his meal of human flesh with a drink of neat milk,
he stretched himself full length upon the ground among his sheep,
and went to sleep. I was at first inclined to seize my sword, draw it,
and drive it into his vitals, but I reflected that if I did we
should all certainly be lost, for we should never be able to shift the
stone which the monster had put in front of the door. So we stayed
sobbing and sighing where we were till morning came.
  “When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, he again
lit his fire, milked his goats and ewes, all quite rightly, and then
let each have her own young one; as soon as he had got through with
all his work, he clutched up two more of my men, and began eating them
for his morning’s meal. Presently, with the utmost ease, he rolled the
stone away from the door and drove out his sheep, but he at once put
it back again—as easily as though he were merely clapping the lid
on to a
The Sovereign of Songbirds
Has been roused
Emitting layers of harmony
Borne of exultation, borne of woe, and
Reverberating in the Key of Elysium

Let your dreams guide you.
As the fulgent daystar
Dawns upon your starry spirit,
The musicality, the euphony of amour
Will abide within.

Soar unto the stratosphere,
For the limitlessness of flight
Belongeth to
The earthen vessel waxing ethereal;
Furthermore, it is only achieved through self-transcendence.

Ye are Children of Manumission;
Therefore, fulminate from sea to shining sea
Until the obsidian of hate
Descends into Magisterial Oblivion
Arising anew as The Element of Freedom.

The Requiem of the Revenant shall rise,
The Maw of Darkness will fall;
Ultimately, the Paean of Light will
Resound upon the four corners
Of the Terraqueous Mother.

(Se' lah)
Excelsior Forevermore,

Sanders Maurice Foulke III

04/07/2021
Malvika Jul 2024
bask in the divinity of your feminine energy
It cradles you like the light of the moon
Retreat into your soft flesh
feel how it bounces back as you trace gently every curve
How could you have such disgust for
The vessel of your greatness?
Meka Boyle Oct 2013
Empty asphalt parking meter,
Suburban drop out,
Accidental, half baked,
She-really-didn't-mean-to-
Love story of the empty
Alleyways and crowded
Cross streets, full of sober promises
And five day old
Chewing gum
Wadded up and discarded
On the faded, cement floor.
Blood pulsating
Through fifteen dollar
Cheap leather combat boots.
The almost cold, October air
Wheezes through halfway parted
Lips and abstract fleece jackets,
Stained by yesterday
And the subtle scent of pizza sauce
Evaporated grease and
Paper thin
Apologies.
Nothing grows here,
As worn out tires skid to a stop
In front of fluorescent bank signs,
Illuminating the way
To a safe ride home
Along with a three dollar waiting fee.
Heavy upon our translucent veins,
The world pushes down onto
Our vulnerable skin:
Hold your breath,
And one-two-three,
You won't even know what hit you.
Pulsating rhythms of life
Of something like Vicodin,
But with a stronger kick-
Bloodshot,
Our eyes dart back and
Forth, until eventually they lose track
Of everything alive enough to feel it.
Vibrant shades of yellow and red,
Lose their faces within
The fogged glass of the department store
Refrigerator. Who is there
To see the transparency of
The off-brand seven up
And diet doctor pepper?
Momma, I have shied away  
From life:
A coward too preoccupied with
Monday.
Death and damsels
Pull at my indifferent coat strings,
Until all I hear is the muffled sigh
Of yesterday
And that of the tomorrow
I will never see.
Oh, twisted fate,
Don't fail me now:
Palms up, I mindlessly surrender:
Who I was
For who I will never be,
Amen to amen,
Crammed up against the scratched,
Metal lining of a transit bus
Between the middle and end
Of a crowded route-
Nothing breathes here:
Hold your seconds until
Reality pushes up and
You can heave in the polluted
Scent of half past five
And missed doctor appointments.
Neck arched back,
Life flows down my esophagus
In the vessel
Of a Benadryl
And vitamin C. It's all the same
When you've bottled up your
Emotions, and sold them for
A pretty price
To anyone poor enough to buy
Them. Leaving you with a penchant
For emptiness, and a stomach full
Of vacant ambition
Sealed to the brim by an
Extended hand, not quite close enough
To feel it.
Bang, bang,
The sound of closure haunts my every move,
Driving me closer to my final hour
And away from the one before it.
I'm no longer with you:
Practiced, proposed, rehearsed and perfected.
Life after death is an encore-
A standing ovation,
So loud
That it drowns out reality.
Nora Mar 2015
Here’s how it is inside my head when I’m sober.
Everything is clear.
Everything is so clear but it’s a mess.
A mess of words.
Thoughts clashing against each other.
I explain and over explain and I try to get my point across but it’s nothing.
What I say is nothing.
The words that come out are nothing.
My mind speaks against me.
Isn't my mind my own?
I try to calm it but it only rattles even more.
I write and it’s nothing.
I write and the words won’t make sense.
I try and the letters vanish.
Give me shot.
A hit of anything.
Make me high.
I don’t want to know this.
I don’t want to know who I am.
I keep myself a stranger.
I have always been drawn to strangers.
I've always been drawn to hurt.
To ignore.
Keep me high it’s for the best.
It won’t stop.
It won’t stop.

Please stop.

I've learned to be a vessel for so long.
To hide to keep to hold.

It's breaking.

— The End —