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Martin Rombach Dec 2013
How to approach something so intangible, with little cellular to describe to my nerves
How to make verbal something so emotional, based on psychology and civil construction
How to perceive myself appropriately despite the eroding drips that pierce progress and old photos I cling to with such immaturity
These questions all are for the same goal, that progression of the self, all those substantial, cerebral, sensual and societal realisations that I yearn for
And yet... I sit, making delusional dreams come true in screens, I sit, making deep intellectual arguments for causes that aren't my own, I sit, researching complicated **** ups and ****** withs the powerful inflict in their attempts to balance a system born broken and biased
Screens are our new ****** it seems, as we reject religion our screens let us forget that the world continues around us, or encourage us not to care
And I come to this self consciousness, this ironic hypocritical reprehension
Because I really enjoy what all these creative minds and years of work and beauteous ideas have given me, but with the same hypocritical tone, despise my compulsion to stare into pixels

As I indulge this self awareness, I know I will continue with the same mental obesity of consumption tomorrow
And there will be no hypocritical self evaluation, just self involved enjoyment
Until the moments come when I am left alone with my mind
Self conscious, reflective, feeling as the time has been lost, but my mind is too tranquilised with pixel and poster representations of reality to notice
This won't change but...

Maybe if I take some time to turn pages rather than press buttons, and stare at sunsets rather than screens
That self evaluative journey I've ignored and returned to sporadically in the reflective yet warm darkness would be less intimidating
And if nothing else, on those days where reality lies next to me filling my cerebral stomach with the undeniably existential
I might feel a bit better about those days lost to other people's stories
PK Wakefield May 2010
hot womb blooms
                                "'time is an in-finite mother'"
bursting  belly bloats
withs
econds
creaming
rand
reams
          they cry out
for release
  trapped in hollow tight
but
      they burn
but a second
                      before
smothered by                             passing
                                 kin
smoking from             that                           kiln
PK Wakefield Oct 2010
the copious girls of summer are fair skinned laminate
withs blonds all ******* about their heads the air
or syllables of autumn in distinctly American voices
a swaggering insomniac who is springs ugly sister
but myfingers find her soft decimals and make her make verbs
of quiet *****; a distinct growl of decadent hair marching
from between her hips and about who is circling the
vultures of my hands. resting on her thronging paint
the goldenarch of luscious flesh and she tastes like
apples
              and cinnamon
                                        and dead

     my little fAll
PK Wakefield May 2010
*
huh
thathee
this thy
did cry
a sunny night

but unsure
winds boastful
fibers laid a threadbare
cavity open
to
shivering window pain
laced
withs
courageous dapples
of color

i should not
but have

exposed:
i lay
thus
to some monster
nestled in
secret seclusion

amongst the loose weave of friskilating scents
and a nostril not meant
to see sweet aromas
Solitaire Archer Mar 2014
Hearts to hold

In a cabin old on a cold dark night an elder sits by a candle light
on the tabletop a parchment lay and an old mind casts back ... to a long ago day


Two are seated side by side on a winters night near a bright fireside
speaking low through the night they bide



They spoke of things of large of small
spoke of things, of no import at all
one began withs querys soft and low
answer me my friend yes or no


If your heart doth break would you come to me?
If mine were in want .. could you let them be?
If thirst you felt would you drink from my well?
If gold was the need would your goods you'd sell?


From the fireside came this return
as the two in the night watched the firewood burn


Most beloved this I say to thee
listen well.. to my words take heed


If all I had was food for one
share I would with your daughter and son
And if I found myself without hope I know that you would share with me your cloak
I know if fire I had none...to your hearth I would willingly come


You and I know this is true as rain
through good or ill true friends we remain
What is mine is yours till the end of time
Heed what I say and with these words bind


Hearts first one now forever are two
love gladly accepted ... given not due

So on a winters night so dark and cold under candlelight sits a friend grown old
an elder now no hand to hold and the quill still shakes her tale all told


Now she smiles at last and is no longer cold
hurrying now a Sisters hand to hold and so ends my tale of friendship true
a story known by very few

a tale of a night so long long ago

of kith and kin ... and hearts to hold

Solace Arcanna 2012
Colin wheeler Jul 2013
Joyfulness enriched by happyness
Gushing down the streets of time
Reaching us at the speed of light
What was that, am i right
Listen

We reached a point that is together to righteousness
are we the voices to learn
What did you do to me,
We were build to follow
But are you now

Just speak your thoughts,
open your minds,
Stop staring out the windows there is nothing to see
Start by clearing all that matters
Listen to what your mind say

What did you do to me
Clear all that is wrong
We are all that exists
An extreme to the withs
Open hearts will allways meet
Mar 2018
gorging through the sturdy built walls of persona
the piercing beak spares nothing of your emotion

unwelcomed but persistent it swoops down
filling your ecstatic mind withs its ferocious feathers of poor aura and corruption

malovent in its actions; its screeches reflect off of your deception
of things that you once loved and held with full appreciation

that’s the power of overthinking -
for it’s suspiciously secrete like the crow,
surviving off of adverse assumptions.
overthinking really does overpower us.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
fog
you wait in the fog,
i fear ghosts have
swallowed your breath;
i sniff mist,
i sniff japanese cartoons...
  i ear an asian qua-so
       alien concept?
       as-being-so,
                        my heart was intended
for much more and a much
shorter lineage
akin to the fate of samurai
was given; i die like a farmer's
                take on: the clear suggest;
intelligence being the last armour
worth being employed.
        i die a second death akin to
a land not owned...
             i die a death no one is able
to unearth or thus sell...
   a death that motivates jews into asserting prop...
and pope..
                    if this is uncomforatble,
what is a prosthetic limb?
                a gold-plated toilet seat?!
like blah blah said the monkey?
            of no generic distinction comparing
chimps withs gorillas?
       how about a generic imperative you
******* ****?!
how about i pet you by ******* on you?
now that would make a load of sense
given the **** culture... me ******* on people...
i'm just M heart symbol orientated
to imitate those people lost in the 15th century
that actually could talk about owing a heart
rather than a kettle...
   funny how all stories these days
begin with: once upon a time.
A Lone Nov 2017
I struggle with how'd you'd feel if I would brandish my mind/I paint pictures but you can't see the canvas in mine/the perfect duality I am both damaged and kind/I pray that all these bad habits vanish, I'm trying/see the world with my eyes, there's no  vantage to pine/its a one that saw all of the best chances decline/like that day you quit school and left that campus behind/bad choices have been the worst bandits of time/and you tell me that it is but how can it be fine?/when a person like me is so bandaged and blind/there once was a point when you were outstanding and fine/but lately your way is something you ain't managed to find/maybe who I have turned into isn't how to be/maybe not being the greatest child keeps on clouding me/I think I have the right and the reason to keep doubting me/the water I chose to quench my thirst wound up drowning me/I feel like lately I've been living detached/too much outgoing and no one giving it back/this more potent than anything I've written in fact/I know you ask for the real but you getting an act/I think I'm too anxious, have I run out of patience?/I been through it before but it doesn't help with the latest/even when you look out for others your motives are selfish and I mean for heaven's sake all these times have been hellish/I see such an up on trouble in age/how do I contain all this bubbling rage/that only a few see cuz my subtlety ways/I'm paying more for it but can't double my wage/I'm up all night because my struggles a daze/me myself and I should be huddled to pray/tryna do too much at once and I juggle afraid/comes and goes still I jump in the puddles of rain/was once strong, now broken, that's how rubble is made/maybe it's my fault and God decides I'm humbled in waves/I never tell nobody so I haven't been lying/once again I'm paying for it, it's extravagant buying/my futures up in the air but it's not talented flying/I'm feeling others pain that I can't balance on my end/so many emotions it feels outrageous/I write and I write till I fill out pages/I wanna break this cycle but there's real stout cages/if I said I could handle it would you still doubt cadence?/and any relief on its way can't come fast enough/if you want the truth I feel I seen the last of luck/I'm tryna do my best so I don't flash my bluff/I'm tryna avoid a breakdown but this patch is rough/tell me how do you pick from such warring options/I wasn't even happier being poor and jobless/i take it each day but I'm not sure in progress/I say just think it through but I need more than logic/I don't wanna start feeling neglectful but what I'm dealing withs stressful/either it's not better or not true that this healing is helpful/the way I picture my life see it ain't photogenic/so why push yourself so hard when you don't know your limit?/God I'm feeling forsaken God I'm feeling Your hatred God I can't be more patient my life can't be more wasted/and I feel at this point most of my thoughts are desperate/and I feel like most of my decisions are reckless/do you learn more in the valleys than you gain versus peaks?/I feel like I can never have my anger released/I feel like I have failed to cage this dangerous beast/it's weird to feel happy but what's stranger is peace/and nothings come of it all man I hate your production/I don't know LoneA maybe your natures destructive/And the way that you been acting is deserving of Oscars/and I'm sick of the ways that you've adopted like fosters/you deal with the pain although none of its doctored/I just feel like I have run out of options/ so here we are, as I sit, writing lonesome is drear/I might never find a path for me that's wholesome and clear/you write paths to your thoughts just to close em in fear/has God sent you a message you haven't chosen to hear/it's no mystery to me I'm so certain I'm sinner/I should put all my flaws on the table like I'll serve em for dinner/so can you honestly blame me for not being positive?/if you knew you can't say I have no cause to give/I got problems and debts I need to pause to live/these words are my art but all I draws a wish/where to go if you got here trying to follow your mind?/if you so hungry why not try to swallow your pride/chew on that while you let your worries wallow inside/and you think you have the answers when you're called on to guide/My world is feeling cold it's probably like four degrees/everyone in my life has opened the door to leave/it's all I've ever known I'm looking towards the grief/I think it's become obvious that everything's worth more than me.......
This world is on its own
Left in water so shallow
Hearts of every human
Seems to be only hollow
Filled in lost void
Emotionless life of an android
What are we?
Who have we become?
Why wage war with me and you?
While muttering who will we be?

Do You See The Unkown
That lies beyond my own heart
Simply in pain and over grown
Covering the iris of My Eyes
For i am who i am
While all the same i ask
Am i?

The lost is our fate
The people end in life to be
Waltzing in time on destiny's melody
Do you know what i see
Lost children, with out care,
Taking all, stealing,
Withs hearts of fire and flare,
While the dead are the ones singing.

Do You See The Unkown
That lies beyond my own heart
Simply in pain and over grown
Covering the iris of My Eyes
For i am who i am
While all the same i ask
Am i?

Who are.... you?
I ask who.... are you?
But also who... are... you...
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2021
poza godziny: tzn.
   wypełnić dzień - dniem...

   too eager to retract "complexion"...
if that is even, remotely, available:
as a Caucasian standard...
return to my mutter-zung(e)...
some great migration
i'm guessing something borrowed
from history i'm guessing
the Copernican "revolution" had its zenith
now is the time of: everything vogue Darwin...

to find an hour in a day and do X -
the algebra notation
rather than the phonetic
i.e. xylophone for starters...
through the chalk-&-cheese grinder
sizzzzzzzle...
drone strike at the snore and snorkel...
unless... fax
me the details... it comes "last" or not
least "late"...
how sigma "behaves" or was
otherwise discovered
to be:
cedilla at some point...
     cursor...
            sNAKEs...
                      σN∀ʞƎς
                                        s'nay'x...

rather "unnecessary" but a must...
bothersome these strict barriers
and when / but when one returns
to the cascade of sounds
and what's to be said: sung...
thought & therefore seen...
i can forgo all the tux-juxtaposing
and a: dozen or so penguins...

bravado... one can try to read
a newspaper...
one does... one even uses this royal
****-off route to mind
what matters...
as an extension of
james marriott's book review...
i was a fan of jordan B peek-a-boo...
when all things in the wunder-land
of tubes: how was copperwire
invented? asked my glaswegian
english teacher? two scots arguing over
a penny... or a: PENCE - je pense!

newspapers have really taken a
hit for audience size, competition...
on the sideline you notice this...
"grief"...
what worked for the 20th century
propagandists... doesn't work now...
at all... no factions just... fractions...
and people in the congested
equation, somehow too...

it can be, or rather is, absolutely: unamusing that
one must have a mother...
for that matter - that there are two -
what with death being the second -
altogether: through and through -
unamusing and, or rather stringent:
      unmoveable shards of darkened ice...
at first that's about it...
        as one does when *** is a "waste"
or that ******* is something
    a typo for a metaphor for a misnomer
of what can't possibly be genocide -
or if it is: a solo project of an equivalence
that's met when...
scrubbing the dead skin parmesan
       off the soles of your feet...
    or having your hair cut...
          or engaging in grotesque pâtisserie...
i.e. pinching a loaf...
sitting on the... throne of thrones
for the holy trinity to congest the time...
frankly... there are not enough
hours in a day to
congest them with listening to
bbc radio 3...
i tried to cram as much radio 4
when in bed with a strict take on
a loss-of-shadow-hangover:
body as if a mollusc esque-form...
not borrowing from Kafka and yet...
glistening with a glitter and primordial
saliva gob-slob jacuzzi...
gurgle at every turn... gurgle-gurgle
and froth to ******: withs... bau-bau-bubbles...

but i'm thankful for the comparison:
and my own little life too...
little so little it doesn't dare to raise
notions of hierarchy...
that there is a hierarchy that's all
the better:
no one's moving up... no one's
moving down... plateau of plateaus...
but when i suckle at the bottle...
and it's a bottle of ink i can't spill
while i'm also drinking for a tease
of... teasing humour...
and i haven't written awhile...
while i pick up something grandiose
to experiment with... like...
bbc 3 will champion clarice lispector
but not machado de assis...

but agreed... what happened to
the "unread": i'll come dangling on
a hot-air balloon... screaming maxims...
first of most: or 'of all'...
i'll probably buy a bicycle and cover
those distances walked...
from havering-atte-bower
to... st. paul's cathedral...
coldharbour...
epping... in half the time it would
otherwise require me to tame
a marathon...

exemplar status... when i arrived in Paris
on my own i was not filled
with anything Stendhal likened imitation /
overbearing / copycat implicitness
(no implicity) -
         i exhaust the right to write more
than any of my drinking unfathomable
cruising through bottle and bottle:
message after message...
crab feet...
            giraffe necks...
scissor when expecting...
                           bamboo pincers... etc.

otherwise finally arrived at:
this "finally arrived" at
                dź (дь)
no vs. dż (дъ) otherwise...
what do i do with a "3":
                   эз: mind m'ah f'ez...
butter-fingers: deutsche! primo!
if my schnörkellos & butterfinger...
does you any harm...
crescendo + from the Urals
of the plural S... tomb of the vicinity-"victor"...

Paris... on the night of the Bataclan
stampede for bones, bruises,
tendons and sinew...
and offal... like... chicken heart...
chicken stomachs...
like that night when i was painting
my bedroom drenched in rose...
in chemical red
looking out for those mantis eyes
of lore like a bored
housewife of Pompeii...
before the irrittion
of the gods and the Huns...
drenched me with stuff all morbid
and splodgy...

suppose a ghost invites me to:
close a door...
suppose a door
suppose closure...
suppose the presupposition of...
****** theatrical null
and then a peacock of genesis...
a phoenix of exodus....

       a big chin 'arry delves into
structuring thinning...
who's a who who (a) what's already been given...
triptych on the buckle:
less hooves of horses charging
anti: against chaffs of wheat and more...
this sinking sensation requesting me
to make drown of all things
spec-tac-ular...

yonker: *****...
             mr. se(o)ul... his says...
says he:
           is any 'n' every...
Trafalgar Sq. presupposing
a Na-po-le-on...
to a somewhat... be...
well done.. boiling down:
the...         knuckles...
heave this limbo of cartilage :

oh i'm very much adapted
to...
insomnia
and "insomnia" libido too...

quake... nothing passes...
a biscuit might...
"crumble"...
a clown might poke fun
at making a...
"jellyface".

— The End —