void-dwellervoid-dweller1 year ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
it is chaos given form,
one our minds cannot embrace.
its foul tongue, a locust swarm;
click and whir and carapace.
in bleak depths it was still-born,
the soul spawn of a dead race.
our battle is lost;
our will: less than meaningless
to the varelse.
soul searchingGazing up at the starssoul searching2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I wonder if what i believe
Is there, is really there?
I have been informed by the physics gurus,
And the god junkies.
But i believe, belief is
A veil over
Like brush strokes painted over.
What is out there?
Dipped in the waters
Of what is
Or not there.
Its a concept that you as
The artist should investigate,
Like an unfinished painting left
For you to contemplate.
Darkness, I...Darkness, I...7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Every night I pick a star in the sky
and persistently follow the path
that leads to it.
But soon I realize:
the star that once lit the way
is now dead,
and has been so for eons...
Tonight I shall choose a new direction,
one with no light
and I will navigate on it,
and witness the birth and death of galaxies
as I go by...
But I won't stop,
I will go on
Oh, Darkness, I...
home is the place
you launch your ships from
my red roomi stay safelymy red room1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
in my red room.
i don't need to leave,
i know what is here.
there are no variables.
i am sheltered
from the storm
of public places,
people i don't know.
and people i don't want to know.
i stay in my red room.
i make myself ugly
so i have to stay here.
i neglect myself,
i isolate myself,
i never leave my very own mind.
but that's not safe,
not the way i need it to be.
so, instead of comfort.
i find my gilded cage
still contains me...
the only person
i cannot bear to be with.
i ask you,
how do you escape yourself?
i need to know.
here i am in my red room,
Stream of UnconsciousnessSomething somethingStream of Unconsciousness1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Going on inside
That space inside the hole
Between the other spaces
Thoughts and thoughts
And things I thought
An endless stream of
Like a river
Or maybe more like a drip
Escaping into the world
So, you better
........ watch your step
..........................i guess... maybe.
kekule's oracleSometimes the beginningkekule's oracle1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
does not come after an ending
(of the benzene ring),
the days blur, you stop
(art and myth and dreams)
watching the clock
(go beyond what 'seems'),
listen for the birds
(the hypnogog sees)
to herald the morning
(things as they could be).
pattern recognitioni was day-dreaming out the windowpattern recognition1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
when, with a syllabant crescendo,
it unrepentantly began to pour.
i guess it's slightly after four...
apollonian pathmorning leaks across the skyline,apollonian path1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
towers frosted in the sun's shine
a cup of coffee would be fine.
this time is mine, this time is mine.
the morning's moon and sun collide
school-kids are at recess outside
the ocean breathes against high tide
half through this ride, half through this ride.
though the sun was violent and bright
now its eyes too tired to fight
much too soon vanishes all light
into the night, into the night.
burstemotion welling;burst1 year ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
a bathysphere descending,
with the rupture comes the tears;
the bubbles spill upward.
...sounds like a freight traini am an eyeless titan, the spawn of warring winds...sounds like a freight train1 year ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
thrown down from the heavens to lumber across the
fruited plain. i rend both tree and trestle, hearth and hayloft;
the anchors of mortal lives are but chaff before
my blind fury which has no goal save to exhaust itself.
my numb tyranny
finds it's only equal in
my destruction's path.
The PromiseThe Promise3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the garden she was too much work
blackberry & poison oak
uncultivated tangle - tangelo sour
no easy apple she
sat high on the bough - caterpillar chic
the birds lick her sweat
black snake her heart - we understand
she was very bad idea
(I: the promise)
I've wrapped his word in red flannel,
taken to stringing it
around my neck. To those who ask,
I explain: Oh, some old juju.
Now and forever, am I the keeper
of its unbearable weight, this
great, dead pendulu
syzygysyzygy1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
in sweet sympathy with all;
Truly freeTruly freeTruly free1 year ago in Philosophical More Like This
The intentions are revealed in tortuous paths...
and our actions show our understanding.
and about himself.
Freedom means the absence of fear,
and the absence of fear means the love.
The word freedom means much more than we can imagine,
is a puzzle to be solved...
a story with multiple versions.
Be free is to be conscious of their welfare,
is to be able to make difficult choices...
and assume the results with head up.
Someone truly free ...
live in constant peace with himself,
thus...also lives in peace with others.
Someone truly free...
spends his time focused on your goals,
charming's riddleher legs grew like ivory saplingscharming's riddle1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
from beneath that dress of twilit blue.
when the clocks chimed she began gasping;
amid satin's swish and silk's frou-frou,
she flew away from me unflagging.
from beneath that dress of twilit blue
(she flew away from me unflagging
amid satin's swish and silk's froo-froo),
her legs grew like ivory saplings...
what should i do with one glass shaped shoe?
supplication to saint snarksitting in a pewsupplication to saint snark1 year ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
in bureaucracy's temple,
my head bowed in prayer:
"please guide me through the valley
of the shadow of red tape."
intestinal oghamintestinal ogham1 year ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
the future's pattern
scrawled in blood, organs, and bile
across the altar.
we look to the haruspex
to seine the truth from the flesh.
The Art of Un-KnowingGive your burden the mane of a lion. Of yourself,The Art of Un-Knowing2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
make a kraal. Split your heart
and fashion its two halves into a pair of goats.
Tether one to a stake. Then pull all the shades
for darkness, barricade the door,
listen for a nervous bleat, a skitter of hooves
in the mind's dirt. Feel nothing when the animal
screams. Believe: it's only a goat.
And here, the art - a bloody thorn, a twist
of hair will show you how the lion gets in, where
to dig the trap. When it is dead
burn the carcass. When the winds have drunk
the last of its ash, you'll still have one good goat.