"zoning" poems
By: Cedric McClester
It’s, “affordable housing,”
That we can’t afford
Our cries in vain
Go largely ignored
So please don’t ask us
Where the grapes of wrath are stored
If you don’t want us
To respond untoward
They show us an unaffordable
AMI
For people who barely
Are just getting by
So to call it affordable
Is a bold face lie
That try though they may
They cannot deny
We’re brought together
To plan and plot
Our community’s future
Are we not
But they won’t admit
To what’s already in place
Like a zoning change
What a disgrace
Ultimately we’re told our future’s
Up to us
And if we believe them
As they say we must
They seek our ideas
Like they really matter
But I know all that is
Is just chitter chatter
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017. All rights reserved.
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 10:24 PM UTC
iJust Want To Escape From Reality once again.
Heartfull of Pain, Pipe Full of Magic
Im Having So Many
Racing Thoughts, wild emotions zoning i feel like
Im losing it Again, iwant Outs at this moment i want to
Scream **** THIS" And Run Away again. Icant cope
With this, its too much iwant to feel numb and forget.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 8:57 PM UTC
i live in a ******** so boring tractors roam the streets in the usual
traffic,
but i found that you can wizen up to a title of wizard
by finding inanimate things entertaining and thought provoking,
because the internet will not become
the next scapegoat of goldfish memory - not the next
box of entertainment - it will be what god’s green earth indented.
out here, where you’re far from trafalgar sq. you
get crows circling back to the origin of the woods with odin on the lyre
venting out against too much pigeon **** coo coo of the attired men and women marking karma with the no. 13 and being ******* on from on high,
you get seagulls, even, seagulls so far into dry land... imagine!
and you get the autistic zoning in of the cat’s eye,
those cats are very autistic, their eyes tell the sad sad story
of encapsulated solipsism - snap your fingers or meow
and they look at you passing you looking at some randomised
point of entering their sleeping pattern - very autistic those cats,
they look at you almost cross-eyed when you try to snap them out of it -
out of it being: ****** off at being awake.
very autistic those cats, those cats are very autistic, they look
at you looking past you, looking almost cross-eyed -
don’t blame me for the zigzag or the w!
so as i said, it’s so boring where i live you see tractors and crows,
and the only solidification of your presence is either provided for
by an addiction to television eager for the flicker -
or drinking... watching bricks, thinking bits and bobs out
for the torrent of slavic plumbers building the great ****** of london.
lo... upon the yonder... there it blooms *******
i like places where trees tower over man's handing man brick on brick -
makes the sky a bit bigger and less asthmatic.
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
If we never met,
If our paths never crossed
I'd have been zoning out in the void,
a lonely particle.
Me would be the only reality
in that cold dark emptiness.
But we bumped heads,
stuck together,
and BANG!
A universe,
beating hearts,
love.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
Byron and I play
The All Topics Open.
Eighteen holes
Invariably draws nostalgic.
Byron mentioned he went to the WWF in Detroit.
I sliced into a childhood memory
Of midgets at Cobo Hall:
Cobo Hall, Saturday Night. Be there!
Byron started pitching old wrestlers and holds:
Leaping Larry Shane, great with the Anaconda Vice;
Killer Kowalski vs. Bobo Brazil, pinned by the Crucifix and Abdominal Stretch;
**** the Bruiser* tagging with The Sheik
To defeat Gorgeous George and Crybaby McCarthy.
Byron went on in detail, with tabernacle authority:
“It was a Bear Hug that quickly swung in to a Quarter,
then Half,
then Full Nelson;
Crybaby bounced off a knee,
Was driven to the mat and pinned
By a Front Sleeper.”
(Jimmy's newborn picture faded in,
and the pose he naturally struck
baby arms
cocked like a sideshow muscle man
Daddy quipped: **** the Bruiser*.
I was Leaping Larry Shane.
Daddy quipped: Larry the Stooge.
I didn't see that move)
Byron was intense. I could hear, but
I was zoning.
Crybaby and Front Sleeper dazed me.
How time Venns.
I was pinned today.
I recognized the feeling.
Tagged, then pinned by
The inescapable
Baby Nelson.
You know the hold.
On your back.
Baby on chest, face down.
Pinned.
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 10:05 AM UTC
...Our bodies,
clothed,
our souls,
naked,
our Selves,
exposed,
under the glow,
so sacred,
the glow,
of the deep red moon,
in it’s eclipse,
in our eclipse,
more than epic,
everything all of it,
love crazy as a lunatic,
this is honestness,
in all honestness,
all of us,
involved not embroiled,
incense,
and oils,
timeless heirlooms of pheromones,
undertones of unknowns future plans postponed,
the core of our chromosomes covered in ecstatic moans,
the world our throne ET finally phoned home,
emotions amplified no microphone,
thrown into our sensory’s cyclone,
zoning in the zone she shook me to my bones,
bones,
ashes,
dust,
memories,
amnesia memories,
for as quickly as she’d appeared,
she vanished in an instant,
gone like a forgotten prophecy…
from The H Trilogy Vol. 1
available worldwide
∆
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 6:08 PM UTC
Watery hands
Dripping from my own
Before the mirror.
Juggling with the unseen
Parts of me.
Portraits of the dearest ones
Long dead and gone
They're zooming out
I am zoning out.
--Eleanor Rigby
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 5:36 AM UTC
have you ever wanted something so bad you'd give up everything just to have it?
a few years back, all i wanted was to be so ******* happy. i would've given up everything and everyone for that state of everlasting euphoria. two years after, the world has knocked some sense into me, and i realised you can never really be that happy, at least not all the time. so instead of aiming to be unrealistically happy, i wanted to feel something, anything would do. you see, when all you feel is extreme sadness, all you'd want to feel is extreme happiness. but when all you feel is nothing. when you're hollow, when you're so empty you can't feel yourself exist, all you'd want is to feel. all you'd want is to exist. to know what complete feels like, to know what feelings feel like. at the age of thirteen, this is all i've really wanted, but i knew that just because you want something doesn't mean you'll get it. (life's no wish granting factory.) (there are no fairy god mothers, unfortunately.) (you've got no one but yourself, i think.) (now, here's where you come into the picture stutter portrait stutter masterpiece, stutter reality.) so far long, i haven't met anyone with the potential to be considered a real friend. i mean, for the most part of my existence, my friends were picked out for me. none of them knew how to stay, not with someone like me, and i didn't know how to stay either. you weren't like all those other friends, you weren't someone, someone else has picked out for me, i wanted you as bad as i wanted to feel something and i think you were the only person i couldn't imagine myself giving up to that. you were the only person that i felt like holding on to. felt..? with you, empty is a foreign word to me. you are fulfillment in it's only form. you are what makes me, and you're the only one i'd allow to break me. (although you never do.) you are the only one i feel like giving every part of myself to, take all of me. don't give any back. i don't need any back because i feel you existing within me -in my thoughts- the only place i spend so much time zoning off in because it's the only place i get to completely have you. there's a thin to thick line between love and need and it's deadly (when it's both at once) but i've only ever felt alive with you. and even god is a witness to all the love I have for you and my inability to let go is enough proof to how much i need you. i need you in many ways other than needing you to be mine, in fact i don't think you can ever be of anyone's possession. i don't think you can belong to anyone entirely, because you are the universe and you are what keeps everyone going even when you can't keep going yourself. please, always keep going or else everything will die away with you. you're not everything a person should be but you're all i ever wanted in a person and i know you're not perfect but your mistakes don't define you either. don't let anything define you, because you're much too much to fit under words. i love that you're guarded, and you don't let many people in, but baby, i swear you're loved x100. you are wanted. (i'll aways be the one to want you most though.) i love trying to understand you. i love you for everything you are and everything you could ever become and i'll love you for now and years to come. so for this year, all i really want is you. you to be okay. i guess i finally found my euphoria and maybe you do end up getting what you want.
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 4:55 PM UTC
Slithering slice
Fixture of light
Flicker, flicker along the fields of my sight
As the bubble I evolve in expands
Expanding towards my iris
Gazing upon my hands
Pupils dilated
Expand, expand
That's all reality does until it morphs towards a new dimension
Once, again it is small
Doing so is your decision
Senses all bound to one
Bound upon the screen am I
High upon the realm is my third eye
Rattling the vibration towards the ends of my feet
In
Out
Then the energy meets
Continuous flow
Cycle, repetition, insanity, whatever may dwell through your mind
All is all, it merely depends on the kind
Variety, but also the same
Dry, but with a hint of rain
There is never a fully accurate range to perceive vibrations
At least not in this journey
My journey, my mere reality
A malleable matter this dimension is
Zoning unto a higher form brings the bliss
Endless doors enclosed in a hallway
Endless hallways enclosed in a complex
Endless complexes enclosed within a grid
Beyond the grid is a mirror
The key to all universes merged and 'alive' within the multiverse
A simple reflection, a mind blowing surge
Breathing deeper into the land I urge
Enhancements as the soul is here
Ego at gone, nothing to fear
How must a force so vulnerable be so beautiful?
That is for all of us to answer
We all thump into one, all inside the mirror of the Green Panther
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
The Moon and the Stars
It all started one night under the stars.
Lying in the field on the clearest yet brisk last nights of summer's warm-held grasp. Telescope, blankets, friends and stars. We watched and waited as satellites and planes flew overhead; deciphering shooting star from orbital waste, relearning and recalling constellations recognized throughout man's lifelong past. Gazing into the wide open of the unknown with thoughts of extra-terrestrial, black holes, and the possibility of life after death.
The darker the night the more magic seemed to exist. After wrapping up our outdoor viewing of the universe, we headed indoors for peaceful sessions of passing the pipe while listening to shamanic throat singing and overtones, as our friends sat gravely entranced, zoning out to the wonders of the world covered by media through National Geographic and the world-wide-web.
It was somewhere a midst all this where I find myself; body calm and mind relaxed, propped up on the couch pondering the innermost immortal thoughts of the interconnectedness of life and death and sound and energy, spirit and soul as visions of spirals infinitely intertwining as one appear before my eyes. The sensations of what I imagine the reference of “getting the gears rolling” in the center of my brain as my pineal gland begins its first steps of decalcification brought about by the intentions of man.
Up until this point my life was on a one track path. A steady straight line towards the unknown, unawakened, and ignorantly naive, believing everything I had been taught up until that moment was a true solid fact. With this new sensation of the potential for higher vibrations within my own soul, my heart began to rapidly race but without pain and suffering, rather with the excitement of this new realized grace.
Awakening to this new idea, to this new age, to this new way of life.
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 11:06 AM UTC
Zoning in
Zoning out
Spacing into
Instinctual altruism
A divided reality
Obliging my death storm cemetery
This ritual madness; so intriguing
It leaves personality to the grasp of ambiguity
Immaterial realm of the fourth scenes unseen
While docile, poisoned by this vial of vile mistrials
I remain a ghost
Unseen
Mirroring black
Shadowed like a ****** mess
Stop this caress
Fading in
Fading out.
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 5:58 PM UTC
They want bodies.
Warm, compliant bodies. Moving parts.
Hands that open doors and flip switches.
Spines that bend but don’t break.
They want eight hours of labor, plus the commute,
plus the side hustle,
plus the ever-present smile that says,
"I’m lucky to be here."
But bodies need rest.
And there is nowhere to rest.
No shoebox. No storage unit.
No couch, no floor, no friend with a spare key.
Just asphalt and backseats—if you’re lucky.
Just parking lots and fear and pretending to be fine.
We’re told to buy the things that prove we’ve made it:
the ergonomic chair, the smart toaster,
the streaming subscription that numbs the noise.
But where do we put it?
Where do we live with it?
They expect us to consume while we disappear.
They want machines
—but with human elegance.
They want efficiency
—but with soul.
They want labor without the laborer’s needs.
We are the product and the producer.
The face and the function.
They demand dignity at the front desk,
but deny it in the zoning map.
We work full time,
and still live in our cars.
If we have one.
If it hasn’t been towed or repossessed.
If there’s a safe place to park without being harassed.
Why?
Why can you clock in at dawn,
and still sleep under stars you didn’t wish for?
Because they want bodies.
But they do not want the burden of keeping us alive.
Apr 2, 2025
Apr 2, 2025 at 6:41 AM UTC
I live my life
for the jolts and tingles
the prickling of skin
and the involuntary wrinkles
I live my life
for instances of bliss and euphoria
the experiences that floor ya
for the moments of clarity
when I make plans with sincerity
whether or not accomplishment,
may indeed be a rarity
I live my life
for the sensular shudder
of the feminine other
for the flashing and thrashing
and skin-tingling flutter
for those shots to be made
without use of a putter
I live my life
for new connections and epiphanies
for misdirections and the mysteries
for all the questions without answers
like, why does life give you cancer?
according to the state of california.
I live my life
through a miasma of sidewalks
and ticking clocks
through drunken walks
and forgotten talks
for the chance of a Win
and the inevitable balks
I live my life
sometimes for him or for her
in sin or while pure
and without hope of a cure
for the human condition
"the human condition?"
you know, when the world says,
"assume the position!"
and your teacher says
"are you even listenin'?"
I live my life
for zoning out and finding Rules to flout
for the workings of my mind
the ability to rewind
analyze the times
and uncover the blinds
I live my life
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 6:49 PM UTC
My mama said its just a phase
I just wanna get you high
Look at the bright lights
Pop a pill now I'm zoning
in the sky make you fly
sip slow on that poison
not sure where I'm goin
I'm dialated
the popo keeps starin at us
the locals keep glarin at us
these beans keep me near sighted
that *** got me so excited
I bite the bullet
I keep the rifle close
I got the spins
but I got to fight it
but I think I'm losin my mind
but it could be worse
I'm sure that I'm fine
as I check the time
I cant remember the night
I pay the price of giving my life
flying up high
and they all around me
**** god **** some bomb *** ****
mixin up my potion
marijuana stay potent
pop a pill now im zoning
I'm zoning, zoning
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
I'm dying,
Feeling the comforting cloud of death
doing flip-flops through my strain.
Energy bursts are useless attempts
at frosting flakes of panic and regrets.
Slipping.
Forgetting.
Curt instructions from a dangerous smile.
Cloud of death. Your mysterious tension
caresses every
blood-vein in my body.
My lungs restrict,
my lungs constrict.
Empty shallow boxes
filled with the nothing of
resistance.
Can’t anyone see? Does anybody know?
Does
anybody
have the
slightest idea
of just how
tiresome
paying
attention
can be?
So let me go. So leave me alone.
Let the fibres of believing unravel,
slip apart
like
cracked glass
about to
shatter.
I'm hurting.
Disillusioned membranes zoning into silence.
The self-illusion so palpable and strong.
Hope
is for people
who have
flowers to grow.
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 6:16 PM UTC
We’re riding,
feels more like flying,
because this car,
feels more like a spaceship,
used to ride in a hybrid with eyes red,
now I ride a Tesla clean as a whistle,
used to use the pen as a sword,
now I use my laptop as a missile,
sorry I’m not sorry if I missed you,
didn’t intentionally diss you,
just been focused zoning on my poems,
keeping it going with my mind on the mission,
listen,
this is the future,
most are out to lunch better catch up,
this isn’t a **** it sandwich this is blessing dressing,
not an invalid salad but an important portion so pay attention when addressing us,
fck,
trying not to cuss too much,
but what the fck,
sometimes too much isn’t even enough,
probably heard that before,
probably didn’t know that was my line,
see when over a million people have read your words,
your words get rewritten time after time,
rewritten but not bitten see there’s a difference,
and yeah I know that the difference is a line and that line’s fine,
and it’s crossed when the message is lost and the spirit leaves the body,
but it’s not when I hear the words repeated in songs and I know those words are mine,
because when I know other people also know albeit sublimely,
I guess that’s what happens when your work outgrows you,
when you hear words you wrote in songs and quotes,
and it gives you that potent mix of anxiety and adrenaline,
which leads you to speeding by throttling the clutch like a throat,
heading north on America’s most west coast road,
going 100 MPH with no MPG up the PCH,
no MPG because the ride is all electric,
like we are running in this lifelong race,
racin’ with Jaden we ride out to our Topanga hideout,
got a whole 10 acre mountain top up there,
where we go to get ghost when we need to get away from foolish folks,
from their flashing lights Hellish cellphones and all their blank faced phony stares,
riding,
feels more like flying,
because this car,
feels more like a spaceship…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 9:22 AM UTC
I've known him forever
From that first day he waved through his window
To now when I can tell what he wants to say with a glance at his eyes
He's the reflection I see when I look in my mirror
Our minds always in sync
Even when we're miles apart
We have conversations with one look
I understand the littlest of his moves
From the slight raise of his brows when he's tensed
To the flex in his toes when he's mad
I have every bit of him memorized like my old favorite song
Fighting him was like getting stuck in a maze with no way back except the one leading to him
I know all the nooks and crannies of his heart
What makes it pound and what makes it squeeze
And I sure felt it do both that day
And I knew it wasn't for me
And realisation punched me in the stomach
I loved him!
Always have, always will
But that heart beats for another
I hate myself whenever you hug me beside you
Squeezing my hands and telling her you love her
The face I could paint even in my sleep became one I dreaded like the plague
Because that wave was no longer mine
That smirk no longer for me
I realized then why they say a boy and girl can't be friends
What Friend zoning meant
Because then I understood that
I found my soulmate, but he didn't.
©_HerOutspokenMind
Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 2:35 AM UTC
If we don’t make it then I’ll lose trust in it all
Still thinking that you’re gonna text me or call
Wrong..
I don’t deserve it do I?
This is why I never wanted to get close and you knew why
Now I’m over here with a bottle straight zoning
You’re waiting on faith and I just keep on going
I think that’s where we fell off again
I’m pushing past mistakes
And you’re counting your sin
Never thought I was perfect
but we were perfect together
Now we’re flying two distances
With a new patch of feathers
So we’re reaching new heights
And both found a new place
But I'm wondering now did you save me a space?
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 12:36 AM UTC
i Know exactly who you are,
and i know very little of where you've been
who's touch left a mark
or suckled at your side ---
i don't really care to know,
but i also don't really care.
you may prEtend
that i am just another blindfolded
beauty --- you don't but you
Very well could
not at my expense
by in your defense
scared child
and one who chides
In fury
like a seesaw in sway
a question toppling another ...
i'm not trying to dig so deep,
it happeNs
it shrugs
you shrug
i tear on off
today tada no witchcraft here!
--- you know exactly who i am.
there is something i can't hide.
there's a place i don't know about.
and it creaks
collects dusts, mutilates
and folds over in a creepy
crouch, just Zoning inandout
of your consciousness.
you've found the deceAsed girl,
the 'I-could-never-love-a-soul'
under troll-bridges girl ... and i've been nowhere
but here.
and i know nothing of you
excePt as you are to me
when you're tangled in my extras
controlling your relAxandrelease,
and i'm the pretender, i act like i knew anyThing
before you
as you Atmosphere around me
and ship me off in mist to sleep
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 2:32 AM UTC
"My dear what's wrong?"
Blink, shake my head,
Back to reality.
"Nothing." I mutter.
"Baby, what's with the frown?"
Slap a smile on,
"Hi how are you? Table for two?"
They go to their table and I'm back on my cloud.
I'm zoning out.
"What are you thinking about?"
I smile at the ground.
How many red bulls would it take to burst my little red ticker?
"Oh," Eyes still on the ground, "I'm just zoning out."
How long can I not eat for until my body hits the ground and I pass out?
"For the deck it's a twenty minute wait."
Smile.
Oh if they only knew what I was thinking about.
How long can I scratch my arm until I can pull out all the bad thoughts from under my skin?
How many cigarets do I need before I suffocate?
"Caroline, seriously what's wrong?"
Smile, "Truly I'm fine."
I look you in the eye until you believe my painted smile.
You don't care, I could slit my throat and yes you would be upset that you didn't help.
Maybe you would have cared more if you were to see new scars.
Maybe you wouldn't say you like me then not texts me back for a whole day,
Maybe you shouldn't stay over anymore,
Maybe you should stop saying you want to figure me out,
I told you I'm a waste of time, you'll never see what lies behind these eyes.
Trust me I have so much to give,
And for you,
You get none.
Until you kiss me
and I'm suddenly hungry.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 11:17 PM UTC
I am not zoning out
My mind is going places
From somewhere to nowhere
Through Greatness and nothingness
I can travel to places you will not believe
Life is stressful
Sometimes we have to leave
And travel through our minds till we reach our needs
Life is chaotic
Sometimes we have to leave
To avoid the silence
And the noise
Life is a nightmare
And sometimes we need to dream
Nov 10, 2019
Nov 10, 2019 at 7:24 AM UTC
In Barcelona,
at the Picasso Museum, Jay-Z is here,
zoning on a piece from the 60’s, rocking back and forth,
rocking a black Rocnation hat, with a white circular starred shirt,
and I’m here too writing this poetic verse...
from The HH Trilogy Vol. 2: Nightmares & Daydreams
available worldwide on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07141ZNW6
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 5:35 PM UTC
At this hour Children sleep
Among the darkness people creep
Beyond the shadows there is light
Couldn't stand this endless fight
Defined lines in her drawings
Every picture echoed a memory
Forgotten people rested in her mind
Grilling burning thoughts of past times
Her loneliness made her grimace
Intentions were all but to finish
Jokes and riddles crossed her mind
Killing past interruptions
Losing everyone made her go cross.
Movements she made were very small
Never making sound at all
Perfectly graceful she seemed
On her face the light beamed
Quite a beauty light shimmered
Reflection in the water glimmered.
Surrendering her fears
Trickling tears
Under perfect melody
Variation symphony
Welcome to an unknown world
Xanadu for a helpless girl
You can help her if you please
Zoning out she rests in peace.
Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 10:26 AM UTC
The word was out around the street
Tonight, behind Giannis bar
There would be really something special
From the bluesman and his guitar
For locals not for punters
Just for those upon the street
You'd better bring a lawn chair
If you wanted a good seat
The word spread fast and no one
Would miss this once they heard
New works from the bluesman
You had to take in every word
The bluesman was a legend
In this flawed, dark part of town
He only played back in the alley
That was where his show went down
At precisely eleven seventeen
The bluesman took his place
Upon his beat up orange crate
In his same familiar space
It was just like a cathedral
Underneath the golden moon
Quiet and forboding
As he started his first tune
The alley was the bluesmans church
As he sang to the street people
But this church had no walls or pews
No bells, it had no steeple
The bluesman sang of love and loss
Of dragons, ships and gin
He sang of Shubert, Bach and Liszt
He sang of constant sin
He looked but he saw no one
He was zoning, all alone
He sang songs of faith and hunger
Time to give the dog a bone
He played and drank his med-cin
For sometimes he got dry
The bluesman had the crowd entrapped
Beneath the shining moonlit sky
He talked of how his smoking
Through the years gave him his sound
It only took me fifty years
I'm surprised I'm still around
He sang of love and window panes
Of jealousy and trust
Of walruses and potholes
Of people turned to dust
As people sat in wonder
Of this prophet in disguise
You could see a certain twinkle
Deep in the bluesmans eyes
Gianni, stood off to the side
Timekeeper of the show
He signalled to the bluesman
One more and we must go
He had to close the restaurant
Turn the lights off in the back
So the bluesman took another sip
And grabbed a song from his minds pack
He finished up with something
Singing songs for all who came
He made them feel it was their heartsong
Although he never said a name
He sang of waitresses and barkeeps
Pawn brokers and of guests
of family and train tracks
of watchers and of quests
He finished up and packed away
His crate and his guitar
And he collected appreciation
In a two quart mason jar
The crowd left thirty dollars
almost ninety cents a seat
A fortune to the bluesman
And the folks here on the street
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 11:49 PM UTC
Choose your satirical weapon of choice,
Draw a three-dimensional box and conceal the hidden within a two-dimensional sphere,
Needle-point holes squeeze tightly, a misty spray like that of a busted soda-pop can,
The knowledge leaks consistently into the universe, morphing tear droplets into The Great Lakes,
These ten toes hover and glance over the edge, zoning prints like words in a descending motion,
A touch of the shoulder from a folded palm gently comforting and confirming life above this Earth,
A speedy squeeze of all five joints, now on my knees, the gravel latches onto my scabs, pushing and pounding through the pain,
Molars grind, tongue-dried, salty saliva salvaged, yet sitting silently on a secretive cold-sore,
The knowledge is flooding the dam gates, burying ankles in piercing hot grains of sand, diving into a castle's moat, a rush like traffic on a Friday evening,
The world seeps into the depths of my transparent drain,
The seepage creeps slowly downwards into a mental shaft constructed purposely for psychological phenomenon,
I worry there may be excessive overspill of rescued reality,
An unopened present, the anticipation and expectation as a child dreams,
As the gaps and cracks expand, I am able to touch base with memories as they pour outwards like a dog's busted territorial marker, a firefighter's ammunition,
Extinguish the forrest fire,
Paint the canvas gently with a spin of the color wheel,
Play the part of a lonely plumber,
Plug every hole.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 1:48 PM UTC