Don't judge me
but –
Is that girl over there
expecting?
Or should I be
inspecting
my own projected fears,
cradled by society's
repetitive scrutiny
of the female form?
OPEN one breath
phonetic aspects
primarily
for performance
bridging
literary
& musical
rhythm
slack or strong
high or low
taut or loose
in
one-breath
length
verse
sans
visual
stanzas
coalesce
in
openness
on
the
page
field
of
spaces&breaks
sans grammatical
symbols
in
intuitive
cadence
an interpretative
interplay
unique
to the happening
THE PROJECTED VERSION OF ME,
THE PRINTED IMPRESSION OF YOU!!
Beep beep is the sound of the room,
when the fantasy turned into a fraction of pain!
Fine fine is the voice I heard,
to a freaky father who was in chaos for months!
Boringly bathing, naively speaking,
took years of my life doing nothing!
Never thought of being a nerd,
ever stopped of being heard!
I was ten past one, I heard the sound,
it wasn't the hell, wasn't the heaven!
Wandering like a vagabond,
wondering where I was born!
Smugglers noise sensed my breath,
neither dance nor defense I am skilled with!
The wetness of my underpants told me I am not okay!
If I wish to survive,
I wanted to drive!
The hoarse voice of a bruiser woke me up a little!
Fortunate or unfortunate,
I got to know I am being soaked and dripping in blood!
It gave me a hour of consciousness,
to explore how heaven looks like!
Hardly Harassment's Happen, However Hundreds die,
Hunger Of Feckless People Never Die!!
Thumb crush caterpillar fuzz follicle woven wire bent
Pipe cleaner indetectibly clamps fluttery paper crepe
Tiny tear splinter injury etched on crinkled parchment
Puncture forms an institute to forthwith contemplate
Together classified as flower, louloudia beauty flaunt
Plumage lurid thrives beside finite petal flop contrast
Tactical iron hand velvet glove primes formal contort
Proclamations crafted after careful strategy prefaced
Ruffled rogue construct erects its garish occupation
Origami hegemony laughs at limp stemmed genuine
Traditional rotted rose heavy heads rely on hydration
Pointed silver skewer stamen expands phenomenon
Sixteenth February
- Pseudo Society -
Projected Was Connected
had been projected
what we know is connected
should be selected
Jim Horn
The scent of ascent
To dizzying heights sometimes impelled dark nights
To invade spaces and faces that sent
Shivers and quivers that brought down knights
Drunk on ubris
Expecting fame
Catalyzing a crisis
Drowning in shame
From which no escape route
Drew nigh the harder knights beat chests
When the glint from their boot
Failed tests
Reliability and validity in human warmth
Couched in solemn language
Dwelt not in vintage cloth
That couldn’t and wouldn’t conceal the seepage
Emptiness in cold hearts
Wept
In radical ramparts
Kept
Multiplying in moves so inept
Peasants and passersby
So adept
Perceived as dry
Manifestations of lost souls
Without an agenda of sympathy and empathy
Whose gregarious goals
Suffered irreparable atrophy
Cos knights reforms they repelled
Advice for improvement they rejected
Friendly folks from vicinity they expelled
Until ubris pushed to limits of insanity knights affected, infected, respected and projected.
You
kissed me
apon eyes
open wide
projecting mercy
promising flight
widening
your eyes
with
radiant smiles
devilishly desguised
winding a mind
darkened by skies
with sudden
blinking demise
flames devouring
heartening desire
pleading release
seeing underneath
stormy skies
twisting lies
between
shut tight eyes
believing light
intuitively ignoring
wrong among right
opening eyes
projecting mercy
on evils rise
to your supreme
inflections time
Awakened from a startling dream
Remembering the scene that dazed
A projection it would someday seem
Would speculation raise
Flying high above the ground
She soars above her home
Previously a rented space
But now it was alone
A Frisbee on the neighbours roof
The chimney burned coal black
She sees this almost instantly
With Dead dogs in the back.
Returning to her rented home
Remembering the dream that waked
Dreading truth and on her own
Bad feelings she would shake
Passing by her neighbours’
She spots a flying disc
No car within her driveway
And occupancy missed
Once inside with shivers
She noticed the soot
They left the fire burning
From dinner they had put
In disbelief she took a stroll
And stepped into the yard
Dead puppies strewn to her surprise
In haunting disregard
Fables they do come and go
Remembering what seems to sway
But tales of truth like this I quote
Are taken to the grave.
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