Here Come the MenAntimatter - Here Come the Men https://www.youtube.com/watch?vKZsjGFiygc
Here come the men, they understand
Each other's need for other men
For all alone there's no defense
There's no saviours
Here come the dogs they're on the path
They sense each other's comfort breath
They're sickly drunk with confidence
So give it up
It's not the way they change, but how they stay the same
In the coldness of the hollow streets here
Here come the men they're in their cars
Here come the men with scarecrow arms
Here come the men, let's be alarmed
As the contest begins
Get on the daisy chain, and forfeit sense for gain
In the coldness of the hollow streets here
wasteland by Shahsepramwasteland by Shahsepram
Are you big enough?
Are you strong enough?
Are you hard enough?
Are you flush enough?
Are you hung enough?
Are you straight enough?
Are you white e
end the madnessonly in the moon shadowend the madness9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
will one find relief
step down from yourself
you silent speaking gods
in the air above
the music is nothing
in the children ear
from the east to the west
finding the right cord
to pluck will be my
safety net for now
I will escape your grip
on me forever
your chains will fall
your end is near
and then you will see
oh flying spirt guide
take me away from it all
end this madness
and set me free
Collage of the PresentAn ordinary life,Collage of the Present5 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
An ordinary day
I never knew it
Any other way
The time fades away
Like the night into the day
Another hour lost
Another bill to pay
The morning washes over me
circling towards the drain
I try to keep going
Ignoring the pain
Looking down at myself,
Staring fear in the face
In the rippling water
I'm being taken from this
In my mind
I am drifting
Thoughts and memories drift away...
Weigh your future
Bury your past
The time will come
When the first are last
This present moment
Reality so unreal
Don't understand what I feel
Where is this going?
Can't recall myself
No regard for my life
No regard for my health
Myself to the left
The world to the right
I'm not quite ready
To give up this fight
No sense of control
Almost like possession
What is this I feel?
Taking over me
I'm now somewhere else
Where am I?
Is this real?
Barefoot in the SnowYou ask me how I am; I’m fine, I’m fineBarefoot in the Snow1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
My toes have fallen off from walking barefoot in the snow
But I didn’t need them anyway, I’m okay
It’s you I’m worried about, grey –faced and dull-eyed
What’s going on, old friend? You’ve lost weight
Your step is slower, your shoulders stooped, are you in pain?
I see you’ve lost your toes as well
Let us walk together then; daylight will come in time
ScrawlingsA ninety foot tall cross bordered in stable white neon; above it another sign, running red and white lights. It reads “Hope” for a few seconds, switches to “Dope” then back again. Caution: causes seizures in those prone to epilepsy. At the bottom, men with nicotine-stained fingers stir great pots of jambalaya. Occasional cigarette ash drops into the pots for seasoning. Look up; yellow-tooth smile.Scrawlings5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Up on a lonely hill a woman plays violin. A classical tune that I don’t know, something about the wind in the trees. There are no trees here, though, only rocks and ocean. She hears bells in the distance, calling her home, but she hasn’t finished her song. The last note has to be played before she can go. Her mother weeps.
I heard a woman read her poetry today… such a clear and beautiful voice. My own has grown ragged and rough with too many years of smoke and drink. We should read something together, I think; her one stanza and I the next. Some
Crank2:30 AM coffee and cigarettes, rain dripping from the ledge outsideCrank11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Exhausted, but hopeful; a universe in my cup waiting to spill out
I look inside; this is no new world of wonder, only the one I know
A terrain of coiled barbed wire that engraved my battle scars
Stumble once more down the dark scrubby embankment, naked
Thin-ribbed dogs of waste howl my name; they know me here
The dreamcatcher is full, there will be no more allowed inside
Knives in my back twist like an old song I’ve heard too often
Is that you, looking down from the highest places of light and love?
Do you know what it’s like to be a graveyard worm in soft soil?
How many fingers am I holding up? That’s right, I have none
Little stumps that can’t hold on to anything, can’t even make a fist
Places I've Been You Wouldn't Want to GoAn oil-painted robust cowboy riding beneath epic Western skiesPlaces I've Been You Wouldn't Want to Go3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
But a dark cloud passed, a tumor grew, dreams rotted and festered; yippi-ki-yi-yay,
A dark court of one-story apartment buildings, hazardous, broken
Decorated by a rusty tricycle, mops on back porches, dead dolls
Fear of the one-armed man;
An old man with the smell of disease about him lies in thin blankets
A faucet is dripping, a clock ticking, a dog howls mournfully outside
Empty bottle of pills;
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
Red FezHe wore a red fez and made odd gestures with his hands, some secret code I guess that only members of the red fez wearing group would understand. There was no group, though, no one but him, standing beneath a streetlight. I noticed that he was looking skyward as he signed, and mumbling a mantra very quietly. His suit was not cheap; he wasn’t one of the crazy street people who owned the city here at night. I approached him and began making football penalty signs. He stared coldly at me, saying nothing, and returned to his odd task. I left him alone, my curiosity buzzing in my brain. I guess some things are not meant to be understood, or at least not until the time is right. I went home to a bologna sandwich and a beer, and stared at the picture of my dead wife. Yes, some things are not meant to be understood. I didn’t sleep much that night, but when I did I dreamed of the red fez man calling her down from heaven and escorting her to my door. It was not a bad dream.Red Fez11 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
AlzheimersLike moths in warm June air, like husks of cornAlzheimers11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Like watermelon, and the big fence they wanted to build
Along the border
Like the first microwaves and TV dinners, like sand
But you live too far from the ocean to understand loss
And colored shells
Like running out of words but still needing to speak
Like a dripping backyard water hose, a rusted grill
You believe in things
Bright things, like intimacy, like play-swordfights
Close your book, clean your glasses and look again
It’s been gone for years
Flounder, fail, fall; dust beneath your bed accumulates
Warm rain pounds your windows, things fall apart
But you don’t remember
I am so brittleI am so brittle3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am so brittle I could crack
and fall in pieces at your feet.
Sweep me off into the corner -
all I want to do is sleep.
I am so hollow I could melt
into a smaller puddle than
you might expect to see.
No need to step on me -
I only want to sleep.
Is there a code I have to crack,
is there a solid I should melt?
Give me the key and raise the heat -
let me sleep!
The New BeatSpools, large and wooden, empty nowThe New Beat4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
The kind that used to hold industrial cable
The rhythm of the trucks have left their song
Imprinted upon them, all down the borderlands
Cryptic drawings and messages scrawled with knives
Ola, T’kia, Celestial Dawn, all have danced there
Beneath the moonlight’s unerring eye,
(I was up above it)
Redemption for a dollar, smooth-skinned,
(Now I’m down in it)
Stranglewood, gangrenous, limbs protruding
Jungle drums mixed with a wealth of tangled wire
Ghostly incantations, chanting, fires burning
All in Ohio’s darkest regions, like hell, like chainsaws
Unkempt and unclean, Guinevere drew pentagrams
Atop the spools in chalk, a candle for each corner
Beneath the stars’ cold blue eyes,
(I was up above it)
A thousand years of dead weight falls,
(Now I’m down in it)
Sally go ‘round the roses/ram/ram/ram/shake
KingSoul juice poured out of long-neck bottles, drained voraciously by the shadow people in this dark place. This place where dreams are jokes, and the high are the mighty. Stand up and read sloshed poetry, you’re an amazing wordsmith here where there are no limitations, nothing more than the breath of the dying. Here, you are king; king of this shriveled and debilitated world, yes, but king. Until someone turns on the monster in the corner, and suddenly you’re hearing Jim Morrison… “learn to forget….” Sit down, king of idiots, king of graffiti-sprayed dumpsters, king of disheveled rooms with dirty sheets. You don’t belong here. You don’t belong anywhere. Drink now, until the hammers stop banging in your head. Fall into the soft darkness and find a quiet place to die. Tomorrow you’ll wake up dead, but you won’t know it.King5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
.in time suspended..in time suspended.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
my beautiful boy
touch after glance
smelled of the elements
ether, fire and
they said you
archaic times - unknown
"extracted from unspoken myths", i said
"your eternal slave", you sighed
and we chuckled while
playing the part(s)
"merely hedonistic creatures",
we agreed laughing in exhaustion
NIGHT FIXIt is afternoon and the light is curving.NIGHT FIX2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
And for once you can see it.
See the edge of things.
You are aware of secrets creeping, (they’ve just left the corner behind,)
And of terror condensed in bleating signs.
For some reason you have left off whatever it was you were doing,
And the night drops BAM! into your hand.
It is senseless and lacks hunger.
It is unaware of its progress and
It is not as fuzzy as a kitten.
I am left in some kind of mercurial, untimely fix.
I am utterly undone.
So I pull you close and say
Leave your dreams with me.
I’ll take them home for you.
An Old Man's Diary - A Lucid MomentThis is a lucid moment.An Old Man's Diary - A Lucid Moment3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
How few have they become?
My falling, fading, passing,
it has now begun to drain me -
Cold winters pain me...
The sun no longer warms my aching bones,
and heavy tomes no longer set
my mind to rest.
I must remember, lest
the darkness take me wholly.
StringTiny green spots on winter-dead branchesString1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
A holocaust, a death-march, a tiny string of hope
Braver souls than I have retreated, phoned it in
Fascinated by that string, I want to pull it, I
Want to know
Close to the borderline, red drops, white snow
A stench hovers over the city, mad yellow cabs
Ray of sunlight glints through broken window
I begin to pull the string towards me, heartbeat;
The string breaks
Old fallout shelters revived, black planes fly
God isn’t here today, playing cards with Buddha
I look for you in the empty Wal-Mart, still hoping
That none of the blood on the barbed-wire is yours
You’re not there
Out in the field of old televisions, night falls hard
Sleeping beneath cardboard by the blue-screen light
Tomorrow I will find you in an abandoned garage
We will find the string, follow it to freedom, I think
It will happen
BoneHe couldn't find the words,Bone9 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
which thought made him smile. After poring over the words of his lost beloved,
written or remembered and kept like treasures, he had them tattooed in his skin.
On running out of space in his limited flesh he resorted to laboriously writing out in perfect script on the best sheets of paper her words, all marvellously changed in his remembering into poetry. These texts, paragraphs or lines or single words filled with weight he stitched into himself, over other inked words and adding to them. In delirium he plucked her voice
(which now sounded akin to his own voice, like a sister rather than a lover)
from the air, vibrant singing strings played by caress or breeze. These he again sewed so, so carefully over inky skin and through seeping paper and cotton.
So many layers of letters he would laze and remember himself, seeing beauty and meaning in collisions of text. After death (he imagined) he would flutter open like a butterfly's book, pages of himself carried a
.the blood that drives inside...the blood that drives inside.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
on the seeds of
© naikki.deviantart.com - 2014
The Tale of the Iced ButterflyThe Tale of the Iced Butterfly1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
Once upon a time, there lived a small boy in a village. This boy was very shy and sweet. He had blonde hair and blue eyes and wore a blue and gold shirt along with black pants. He lived a life filled with sorrow and pain. The boy always felt so alone. He would look to others seeking their help, but all they would bring him was more problems, sadness, and dread.
Then one day, the young small boy had left his small town and went into the forest; the one place where no one would judge him. He sat in the very center of the woods on a stump and cried. But then an angelic voice came to him. “Why is it that you cry dear boy?” The boy looked up, slightly alarmed. He searched the area, and saw no one; but the voice continued. “Are you sad?” He looked all around and his eyes came across a small butterfly. He held out his hands as the small butterfly with wings of florescent blue sat in them. The boy continued to sob. “I
ScabbageCrust clings to skin, puckered edges spreading redScabbage1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
On elbows and knees, shouting out where you’ve been
Raised white lines across wrists indicate attempts
Salvation, damnation, maybe just blissful sleep
Fog rolls in your eyes, bees buzz in your head
You paint the world bright and colorful, sarcastically
Because all you’ve ever known was darkness
And you do like your primary colors to dream in
Walk down the street, head hung low, mumbling
Expecting nothing from the world, and getting it
Knives in your eyes and poison on your tongue
Born to be crucified; who am I to deny you?
Love does not conquer all, not the likes of us
Festering wound souls finding a moment’s solace
Before the wind howls our names again
I am you, you are me; together we are we
Briefly opening the coffin lid to daylight’s touch
You raise your head high for me, and indicate love
Clasping hands, we jump together into the maelstrom
Leaving two hearts carved on an aging tree