I wish my body had a control panel; a back door that led to monitors and controls
Lights of emotions that are controlled by switches
Digital displays in the form of actions
I long to change the settings, adjust the frequencies
Disconnect some wires and reinforce others;
Rip away the scrawny cords that feed to weakness, self loathing and despair
Then, wrap the cords leading to confidence, self assurance and love in electrical tape so strong no wire cutters could penetrate
I want to flip some switches off indefinitely; hate and greed
Then, prevent some from ever adjusting; love and empathy
I wish I could control my lights and displays, I wish I could switch off negative feelings and actions I wish I was the controller of my wires. I wish I had a control panel.
Excuse, may I perhaps suggest that you adjust your settings
Access my local area network by rebooting your memory
Restore it to our history, the mail, the messages we shared
The cache of stored work temporarily filed away remotely
Technically challenged by the format you display
Data of no gateways or connections in sync
Prompts the recalibration of my control panel
To search and review my settings reboot or even restore
Closing all windows and formatting firewalls
erasing the data, the history and their locations
troubleshooting the back pages encrypted
with messages no longer managed or stored
This media of you remains pasted on a clipboard
Components that await configuration and review
Left to their own devices by default in my domain
Downloaded, bookmarked in favourite library files
I delete all prompts and search settings and all tools
Inheriting only drivers generic and with false attributes
I apply these settings, I delete the data sources
Denying permission to any external links of you.
the ebb and flow of this ocean surrounding me,
consumes my waking being
thy waves of love lap at my soul in
ever-rising surges...
so high the tides of erotic delight,
that one can scarce a breath release
to swell the seas of thy passion so high...
that i may drown me in you
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"I was convinced that there were bombs planted all over the place.
Everywhere there were going off explosions
as if someone was sitting at a control panel base
and pushing detonator buttons.
There was another explosion,
and then another one.
I didn't know which way to run."
- Teresa Veliz, working on the 47th floor of the North Tower on 09/11.
the darkness
overwhelms me
eats at me
takes over
controls me
every night before i go to bed i pray
that the darkness does not take over me
every morning before i go to school
i wish that someone could help me
nobody can help me im all alone soon
the darkness will swallow me whole
leaving nothing in my place but a empty shell
i feel everyday it goes inches up my body
i first felt it when i was young it was at my knees
now the darkness is at my neck trying to get to my head
the control panel the place where i think
i see all my friends enjoying there lives
while i wallow in my own self pity and anguish
wont you join me
wont you comfort me
wont you stay
no oh sorry i bothered you
goodbye
The quest for higher energy, higher abilities
Has become too trite
The savages always come by at 3 in the ante meridiem
And they seem to drain anything away that was built up
This shouldn't be a surprise
As the dam was merely composed of hollow thougths
When the calm of the center is needed
The vampires come to play with the dendrites
The hum of the piercing lights at 7-11 drives an insatiable need
To feast on the flesh of corn chips and the uneven axis of contemplation
Ah, the joys of a million subversive self-intentions
And the revelation that everything is sprinkled with the delicious salt of soul sweat
Yes it is easy to love the flowers burgeoning from the bones
Of the inside-out mastadon
Because the casinos will never close
The spectors operating the control panel revel in these morning hours
Shall the dance with the unnecessary electrons begin?
Stretch a dream over the face and walk through this life
The bark worn smooth,
a scamper up.
Looking down takes my breath away.
Leveling off, I’m safe in the cockpit.
Flying the Iowa skies, way above the tassels,
Control panel at my fingertips.
Spreading my wings and charging the clouds.
Birds skimming by.
The branch cradling my adventure
is broad,
back firmly against the trunk,
sun over my shoulder.
Apple blossom shadows on my arm.
Between petals and freckles,
bright spot lights of sun
sparkle on my skin.
The petals are so pretty.
I pick a bouquet,
shinny down the tree, and
bring apple blossoms home to my mother.