"viscose" poems
It isn't sadness;
that is the biggest misconception.
People treat it like an emotion infecting a blue day,
labeling slightly soaked cheeks as this ailment of the mind.
The term is cracked like a whip in stinging insult:
weak, powerless, loser, outcast.
It is feeling a lack of feeling,
where one exists in a mental state of wanting to be anything but lethargic
yet finding nothing worthwhile inside
with which to take action:
no talent, no skill, no interest.
It is not only not believing one has any energy
but seeing nothing to which to give it,
in yourself, in others, in the world.
It is severe despondency and dejection,
consuming worlds like oozing, viscose magma
dribbling uncontrollably as burning ***** from the mountain's fiery mouth
burping filthily as is sludges onward.
It isn't sorrow, or misery, or despair.
It is inadequacy,
an ebb of interest in life,
with a sliver of interest to take it.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC
Where can I buy to live free ?
Where can I trade off this fallacy ?
Deprived; it's sickening
Where can I find a decent meal ?
There dandelions grow
So very sweet, the tangy texture
To make dandelion wine
I can wake up in drunken slump
Recognizing the fallacies
Its viscose pour of never ending
Paradox pours into my pond of thoughts
Half-pint quavering drunkards
Groan as quavering buzzards
With half the mind as mine
Where can I trade off these endless hours ?
When can I regain temperature ?
In this cold-sharp shower, my conscience
Feel the spores scour within the makeup
Where can I flee ?
From the heart of this country
Why I am I so hungry ?
It's deprivation, I tell you
Quivering motherless tenders
Mend their makeup with dandelions
Bearing of petulant **********
I, abashed of how I render
Under the pitiful aspersion
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 9:07 PM UTC
When you bleed out for so long you forget what it's like to have a pulse.The sensation of dust dries the bones, hollows out the eyes, and makes breathing a quantum equation you just can't bear to think about.
Thoughts become brittle, your heart beats over time, double-paced, trying to fight against the slipping sands in your viens while playing time keeper to the beat of a drum.
You become stripped, barron, naked before the Almighty God and beg for Him to just wet His finger so that He may cool your cracking lips.......... But there's a chasm between you two. Between your higher functions, ***** and brain, between your salt and soul.
You remember what it's like to bleed deep red instead of grainy grits of sediment. You remember what it's like to be made of something lighter than desert. You remember what it's like to be cut, having yourself drip to the ground instead of blown away in the breeze.
It's the letting of blood that heals you. Blood letting that removes the black, viscose, oil burning through your arteries.
It's blood letting that clears the thick smog of cigarette smoke from your lungs.
Blood letting... Gives you back a mind made of sanity, washed clean of the ashes of yesterday's burnt memories.
I'll tell you how to pick up and walk again... If only you'll let a little blood
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 5:59 PM UTC
Our minds warp,
Twist into viscose vapour.
Our bright minds in labour,
Know too much to speak.
We are evading
We are evading
Bright minds evading,
Bright minds escaping
This world is only artificial
What we see is commercial
Travelling through psycho-warp, We see the Sun and Moon,
The Eyes of God, move through the diseased space, Immune,
Impregnable to God’s cloak;
Yes we see you. Yes we can.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 9:41 PM UTC
I was born
Skull shattering
Bled from the bone
In vitro
When my burnt lip bit you
I was bubbling from the knees
The viscose pus beneath the skin boiling
And you ****
He pulled me through dirt, onto curb side, smashed jaw
Caked with stomach acid
Drowning on the car seat
They sat their leering at every corner
Through radiowaves, they drool each pleasure of theirs
But here I am, choking
So I lost the key today
So I lost the key today
So I lost the key today
Cold fingers, skin shaking, through netting
I hide from you
Your thick tongue comes slamming to the edges of my body
I have no words
My mouth shuts for your
Baton bashing
Black boot
Skull shattering
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 5:26 PM UTC
Cold dead grasp of a
decaying zombie witch.
Harlot in youth, grows to a
Dead diseased *****
Green teeth protrude from
Dead black gums,
Infected festering flesh
Swollen with old blood.
Run Run Run, until your bones bleed
Crash to your knees, listen for the horde.
Wait to be ripped to bone.
Enjoy the silence, no need to scream.
Rotting nostrils flare stripped of skin.
Red eyes filled with blood stained pus.
Yellow nails, packed with dirt
Open sores, rash ridden pores,
Leaking viscose fluid.
Reeking with filth
Foot steps quake the ground
Their scent fills the air
Your caught in their stare.
The devil rings the bell
Thirteen ‘o’ clock,
Your trapped in the,
Cold dead grasp of a
Decaying zombie witch.
Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 11:04 PM UTC
need to write
something
to soothe
my soul...
write now of
skies, the perfect blue
of the smell of salt
tantalising on the zephyr breeze
write to ease
a heart so tired
so mired
in daily crud
so stuck in this viscose mud
need a day
far away
from the
maddening
a day in the green
and verdant places
see no other faces
hear the stream
make it's way
from source
to sea
need a day
to follow path
to pond's
to be tickled
and embraced
by young palm fronds
to watch nature thrive
need this badly
to survive
need a day
to recover me.
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC
Broken features washed in silver
All the streets are shining.
Vapour trails exposed to sunlight
Fading like a promise.
Time moves like a hungry panther.
Viscose slow and silent.
Roaring faintly in the distance
Calling me to silence.
Eyes still burn so clear and distant.
Nothing else remembered.
Sound and senses don’t respond.
Memories no condolence.
Time moves like a fading flicker
Just the turning of a film
Does my weakness make me angry?
I can’t quite remember.
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
Feelings, I think, are fluids. They sway; twist and turn with ease. They come in all tastes and colors, light, viscose, and all in-betweens. They can be contained, spilled. They’re often prone to leaking, and with enough pressure, they’ll burst.
Feelings, I think, like all fluids, can suffer drought. Some fade with no remnants to be found. Some, may it be to one’s dismay or comfort, leave something of smell or taste, maybe even a memory of color or an everlasting stain, behind.
I wonder if indifference is the sand sea in this scenery. The demise of all that’s felt, no trace nor sign remaining. I wonder if it can overcome the fiery, glowing red of blood-thick anger, the melodies sung in pastel by infatuation, perhaps even the droplets of pitch-black fear that echo loudest.
If so then I truly wonder why indifference exists. What the loss of all feelings accomplishes.
Nov 1, 2019
Nov 1, 2019 at 4:10 PM UTC
Irate clouds leave my mind overcast.
Forming a tempest in my hyperactive right hemisphere
even though I beg them to fade into calm like
tums in a glass or pop that’s lost its fizzle.
Unsympathetic,
arduous reminders of memories sweet - forged in permanent ink.
Or -- hope that this period of uncertainty too shall pass.
Either way, my thoughts have this sort of
morphine fascination with the tension deep inside me.
Internal addicts getting high at my demise,
Or -- a tolerance break hiding behind a viscose curtain of grief
Either way, I feel like I’m dying.
Or - maybe I’ve never been more alive.
Cause you know, pain is often perceived as pleasure
Stimuli are weird
Maybe I'm just afraid.
Stricken by the thought of separation
from what brought me to comfort
and losing part of myself.
Terrified of the ambiguity associated with change.
Terrified of giving my all just to end back at the start.
But existence is neither
cyclical, linear or spectrum-based
it just is.
I’m in control of nothing.
Which is the most liberating feeling
but also what’s rendered me paralyzed.
I guess I’ll just have to wait.
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 7:01 PM UTC
Veil of black viscose
Curtain for the widow's tears.
Shades the world in gray.
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 2:18 AM UTC