Most bypass the shadow throat,
That world of swallowed measures,
Illusion of a distance —
The ceiling just as close as heaven.
Cogito ergo sum —
All else does cease to be,
My breath the last life whisper,
My memories the library.
In bowels of night’s leviathan,
The sun forgets she ever was,
Disciples sleep to spurn the moon,
Ruling by Medieval laws.
Discerning shadows lost —
Of space and logic gone —
Until returns the bursting dawn,
And christens hay fields, harvest gold.
Juicy Couture
Juicy Couture
Dont make ish like this no more
Bring back good fashion
SHEIN is tired
Wool, silk, linens
Put polyester in a fire
The fads have faded
Trends are tired
Give us proper clothes
Our situation is dire
This waste, this consumption
Our society is plagued
This greed, this hunger
Buying through guilt and rage
A human hole
Fill it with stuff
Emotions take hold
Fill it with fluff
No depth
Less dimension
Sorrowfully empty
Riddled with tension
It tugs, it pulls
Waits for your truth
It gnaws, it scream
Be the sleuth
No one can understand
First, you must learn
Self-discovering journey
Then peace you will earn
No hole, only hope
No greed, but gratitude
Find yourself chanting
No woes, but platitudes
Their tales old as time
Hold truth in every rhyme
Follow a life of your design
Don't believe it?
This is the sign.
Cough and he will show us
POTUS halitosis
oil and conquest focus
his loyalty is bogus
when what they do not notice
sows tuberculosis
intimacy blaze
carnal journey beside you
completion roadmap
bottles clink like keys to hell's doors,
my hands shook before they stilled in gin,
first it was a love affair—
warm whiskey whispers on cold nights,
the booze bloomed,
and I rode the flame like a fool on fire.
years lost, sweat-soaked in bars,
conversations slurred, jobs slipping
through my fingers like sand.
I traded promises for the bottom of a glass,
women for the next cheap thrill—
a barstool my throne,
but the drinks never loved me back.
the mornings were cruel
with the sun stabbing my skull,
and all the friends turned to ghosts,
I was king of my own wreckage,
but the throne was burning,
and still, I drank
The sun falls into the ground once more
As has happened the day before
How content I may appear
But please, look between the looking glass
Please, you must look past
Past my facade, Im trapped inside my mind
The circumference of my skull is my cage
Im running out of precious time
I see no chance of escape
A mind of madness, they call it
And so I would agree
My failures regularly consume me
I cannot keep from wondering when it will end
My mirage of mirrors, ceasing quickly as it began
How tender youth aid and abed my delusion
But with age comes confusion
But with age comes heartbreak
But with age comes responsibility
But with age comes headache
Yes, they say misery loves company
And it does, for I do
And one day I may speak those words to another
Our tender love anew
So we may dance together
And my thoughts may consume him too
Unhinge your jaw, snake, what’s a little more?
You’re eating worlds faster than they make them
And nothing fills you better than a tale of love and war.
You’re ravenous, really, making feasts out of beasts.
You’re every monster’s monster and your hunger never dies
As your shadow stretches over bones you’ve bleached.
Jormungand’s ribs poke like toothpicks in your teeth,
Tying twine ‘round your molars ‘til gaps and the string
Melt to baleen and bone, fangs unused and unseen.
You sift through the dead and your previous meals
Searching for something to take off the edge
Of the wound in your skull that never quite heals.
Come on, snake, devour, it’s all you can do—
You cannibalize the length of your life
When you’ve run out of ways to avoid the truth.
You see thousands of times but won’t open your eyes
‘Cause real life constricts but in mirrors you’re free,
And your hunger hurts no one when you’re eating lies.
Third-person you swallow your tail without help.
The snake, ouroboros, that endless decay;
You’ve consumed every lie and are left with yourself
And you realize too late you ate your whole life away.
Dying with my duty done, my life’s ambition filled,
I hear and feel the rustling from that which I did build.
Arachni-matron-me, I feasted ‘pon the mate I killed –
Before creating (lovingly?) the sac that holds my brood.
Chitinous appendages – a thousand eight-fold sets –
Scramb-ling, tearing, clawing to escape their natal nets.
Th’time is nigh, I’ll never see their thousand eye octets –
I’m glad I cannot contemplate becoming their first food.
(Poem is an "ochtfochlach", which is an Irish verse form of 8 lines. The rhyme scheme is aaab cccb.)
Written on June 2, 2023 for the "Bag of Spiders Poetry Contest".
A long stare at one is plain insult:
I’ve never done that to an adult,
Even one in his dying Renault,
Badly harassing him with some fault,
Wanting to end up in their own vault
Or owner dispatch to his own vault…
But should one adult spare insults,
Who has been offering open assaults
And could on a youth use catapults
With all their devastating results?
Indeed, respect is reciprocal:
On this never stop being the vocal,
Your stand points incisively focal,
Whether in town or a place local…
This for the consumption of the child
Beginning to sprout wings a bit wild…
I often open the curtains to let the heat in, but there’s no sunshine today.
While sat in a chair that’s versed and infirm, blistered brown, bitter and solid as the surrounding bricks.
Was it a daydream of fortune. When a breeze, shimmered with animals within a contorted tree. Behind a typhoon of blue.
An open curtain can warm the room, until ordinary shades of disturbance advance.
Providing unspeakable gloom, I return to bed, for an extra day. When its raining, life surrounds a flower upon the windowsill. When you nothing, there only themes of nothingness.
I also can open the curtains to let people inn, forget the wasteland of silence
People are coloured peeks and cure the reflection of my grey.
This morning, there's no sunshine, a small glint of a cloudless glow. I did nothing but waste moments. Everyone seems no brighter than me, as a breakthrough smile appears upon my laughing face.
all device features are described in the manual,
but we are still unruly in the streets,
I needed to know a lot more about fractions
that hide between the numbers one and two,
measure the exact extent of each shadow in the sky of life
and really understand why we are lost here,
shopping endlessly in the bazaars,
acquiring picturesque items
to decorate the porch of our posterity,
as if we foresaw our descendants and,
wanting to impress them,
we would put an elephant bibelot on the sideboard of pain,
a postmodern armchair next to the stairs for nothing
and further back,
the opaque mirror of our confused, painful,
almost unnecessary existence.
Eruption and Consumption of Corruption
With much energy there was an eruption,
And once existed had been consumption;
Confused;
Misused;
Committed crime along with corruption.
Jim Horn
day 5,000 in time
it was yesterday
you made it real
i am still living in history
my heart's tattoo has been broken
day 1,000,000 will be tomorrow
if time was in a freezer, i would be the red snowman
if you were the thermometer, i would be mercury in search of somebody to love
if God was my throat, i would be the high octave in passionate need of your attention
if you were a gentle angel, i would be the bell that rings that pretty smile on your face
day 20,000,000 in time
it was five minutes ago
you made it permanent
i am still tongue kissing the cubic zirconia
my heart's center diamond has been removed
on the billionth day, i die slowly from icicle consumption
The god of this world is not wholly
Wholly good or wholly evil.
He does his best to avoid extremes.
With his cornucopia he feeds the paying multitudes
While the rest discreetly hunger. He nourishes,
Admixing with good food insignificant,
That is – as far as we can tell - insignificant
Doses of toxin. We must say grace mindful
That slightly poisoned food is better than none, and
“In the long run,” as one archdeacon of economics said:
“Who cares,?“ We’ll all be dead.”
Progress was not made for man, but man
Was made to serve progress. “What progress?” you ask.
Ah, the answer to that is far, far, above us,
Filed away on the fiftieth storey.
By the way, don’t get too worried
About that radioactive leak!
An expert has assured us we need expect
Only a couple of extra cancer cases at most.
And besides, don’t rock the boat
No the god of this world is not holy.
Bogglers, (consumption, distraction)
The snog bogglers of lower snoop
are really rather dull
a spending time smoking duur
and eating till they're full
Bogglers ne'er read to pass the time
but engrossed in snog delusions
fascinating really the boggle mind
it's said, a tad confusing
We all boggle up and down
sometimes side to side
we'll fill our days with wacky-woo
or feel frightened, petrified
But it makes no matter, boggle or no
duur or rue'd distractions
the beating drums of life's snoop
are nought just damned abstraction
Ere the next time you meet a boggler
and feel a need to comment
remember they be like inclined
so shush, enjoy the moment
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