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time travel (continued)
time heals, remember?
burying despair: death.
grandfather time, immortal?
silver-tinged twilight owls
with the help of lofty, fresh leaves
so too, do the summer's evening
winds whistle around
the empty park bench passing
through the p
stargazersShe lives in a river of stars, intricately weaved into the eyes of Eden
the way his roses find beauty in her bramble-berry eyes
watching the sun sink into the ocean
waiting for the night sky
I will always remember him, eyes dancing, hiding her broken heart
Rainwater, hurricanes of lonely gray spilling onto the cloudy sidewalk. The stars are gone tonight.
Gray MasqueradeStriding through this gray, empty world,
I peer upon the hard faces of my peers.
False laughter rings in my ears,
Strained smiles depict something's amiss.
They all fit in,
Just a bit too much.
Robotic and stiff,
They are unidentifiable.
Caught up in the crowd and judgment,
They have lost their identity and their pride,
And their emotions are as flat and cold as those disguises they sport.
The world has come to this.
Even they don't know who they are any longer,
Is like a masquerade ball.
I would rather die
Than live a lie.
living misslethis was once the center of things
a garrison of mustard seed and sedulous
but now summarily surrendered
to the direction of those bred to push buttons
like Theseus throwing
himself to the Aegean
half dissolved and resolved
to be a better reagent
currently disclosable informationthey're naked ships on the horizon
smuggling the tender metal-armed children
who will untie our knots and
tend to our fields
raised on impunative
alchemy and indignant occamy
there is quite a strange
thing doing quite strange things
somewhere entrained by the eyes paregoric
a spate of pro-
and there are some beasts
you can't catch with tackle and bait
ones you must lure
with more orwellian versions of the truth
and those are the ones to keep
locked in small skeleton closets
to smother with pillows and bury
in the basement on christmas eve
in vitro meatsloth;
sill diffusing the bombs
the crime sorcier of hyper-
this air is so dirty
the sophists are sweating
while eating their supper, while
scratching their slogans
'to the spine of our eyes
and the future assured
on the whim of synthetics
we were proclaimed as the founders of feasts
not the same decaudate dogs
bred by the public domain
cool as the absolute/value of absolute zero
in the wheelhouse of liquid
our compared notes on entropy
and all of the above
and the dark heart instilled
around itself builds
an army of somnabulist clones
brontosaurusthe slow strobe of thunder
everyone is fostering some Fabian ideas
the rabbits on the run
the fingernails dirtied
even uncle traveling Matt and his silly
creatures of outer space
so craft your own consequence
and wash it down with black milk
by the garbage pile you keep at the edge of your garden
while the drawbridge holds
your doppelganger and its pavonine
pasquinades at bay
scandalous strokes to the slow strobe of thunder
A Grand TryThis is really a simple story,
of a girl who lost her self.
Not among the trees, or the waters,
but in the very heartbeat of her.
She let circumstance and life get in the way,
and allowed others to shape her and mold her.
Forgetting what she enjoyed, valued, and felt for.
slowly shrinking behind the doors.
So is it really a huge surprise to any,
when the girl decided she didn't want to fumble through anymore?
She knew she was needed, but alas she felt abandon,
by those who promised "forever and ever more."
You see she lost all those who were dear,
to an illness no one really understood.
She was happy though, in her own little world,
Gas Chambershe had an addiction to love and cocaine
she liked the rush into her head and through her veins
she was itching bad and sinking low
she was all dolled up, are you ready to blow?
her rose garden started smelling
her sad stories more distorted and less compelling
no one cared about the shit she was wearing or selling
any whore of the day took her place
in every way she was left to waste
in desperation she tried to save face
but she couldn't be certain of anything
do you really believe it was me, are you perceiving correctly?
I highly doubt that you know me, have you lost your sanity?
she sat dazed under a gas light
she must have been out of
the disorder of operationsa jaundiced account
we pledged our allegiance to carbon
rods and reactors
quicksilver gizmos adorning our mantles
and the secrets we've found
in ancestral owl pellets
unearthed by the same
that tighten the tactical belt
You Took Something From MeI used to remember what was hidden in the moon
The light of a billion beautiful rays still shading in the looms
Now a broken soul, an apparatus to destruction, a tool
A word, a phrase, a paragraph or two
A day doesn't pass without me waking up in pain
To see your repugnant fucking face over me again
The terrors never cease and sometimes I desire
To be deceased, to baptise myself in fire
To leave this earth because my sanctity was violated
And I was young, how could you use this in advantage?
I can't even manage to describe my hate
You pushed the envelope, and I thought I was to blame
But it isn't that way now that I've realized
That I lied to
HumanI don't want to go outside.
It just don't
I hate explaining myself
I hate reality sometimes
I hate being alone
I hate having people around me
I'm sometimes a hypocrite
I'm sometimes a liar
I'm sometimes a procrastinator
I'm sometimes too bunt
I sometimes can't catch a clue
I sometimes don't understand
I sometimes get jealous
I sometimes get scared
I sometimes remember him
and want to slam my head on the counter
to erase what I thought was fatherly love
I'm scared of lots of things
I'm scared of bumps in the night
I'm scared of being touched
I'm scared of upsetting friends
I'm scared of being insensitive
I'm scared of people dying
Mezcal WormRise like a snake
drool gossamer venom that stings like liquid glass.
Nothing is beautiful,
and by "nothing" I mean the state and not the lack of something
Pissed on myself a little more;
I'm one of those kind of guys you like from a distance.
And the animals snarl
at the man who's terrible vibes thump like an earthquake.
You might hate who I am
but you love what I do.
So you hate who I am
but you love what I do.
Steaming AfterbirthA single female's flesh and flower stench
sop up puberty with your diaphram
and screw the daylights out.
Funky amateur perspective
spill the beans and populate a planet
for what, to get the lead out.
Are you too much in touch?
Let it go, then we'll get a glimpse of you.
It's a stretching of the mind,
neurons snap and sever common binds.
The bondage of normality subsides
and begs the social frame....rewind.
But I'm the undergrowth. (at least you can't see me)
But I ain't supposed to know. (that's what the preachers tell me)
Commonly a herd of us do suppose a cliff inside of us.
Rarely but indigenous the black sheep favors forieg
We Keep SleepingSo this is the sound Night makes
when she cowers doggedly
from the mighty sun.
Tendrils of her gown
soften their grip on our eyes
and recoil within places of the Earth we've never seen.
The stars are there too,
nestled, amniotic, they talk in shimmering
voices that only cats can hear.
If we dig long enough,
maybe we could see them.
God of WormsBefore I say a single word I'm gonna split a stressing smile.
Feet follow teeth, sound the necessary snap, mile in the mile
This is the zen of quiet anger peeling skin like paint so slow
it barely milks red water.
For what it's worth I'm completely under the influence, hun.
Didn't I happen to say something strange, something strange, somethin'?
Those ugly words fill a void and this is where my path remains.
It seems to suit the music.
I'm gonna find you
and I'm gonna kill you.
It's really just that simple.
I'm a lookin' in the mirror
and I say
I'm gonna find you
and I'm gonna kill you:
The pincher to the pimple.
But you inhabi
I Am The Octopus
It's like this:
this thing, this female
Let this be known:
this thing, this female,
she is mine.
So help me, God;
Put rest the protest in my bones.
Decades of inhibition have
So help me, God.
With this knife I surrender
Upon my skull there sits no mercy.
Resolution is in love with triumphant, heartless spite.
My foul magic blackens everything you own;
dolls and effigies alone.
One spirited day this soul will stretch
eight arms, a paradigm and no conscience,
as octopods do,
and taste the world as its own.
I am salival, hungry,
Keep in Touch!
`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More