stream of conscienceless by gliitchlord, literature
Literature
stream of conscienceless
blabbering like i have meaning! i keep on repeating the themes, the love, complete failure, and please find a meaning between any lines, draw maps that make gibberish signs and feigned diction a blessing. absent as mentions of hope, reconnection, or proper poetic approach; o, reader, take note: i will squander your pixels and moments of time without hesitance, dryly wring sentences from abstract text, break lines like the density matters. o, shattering glass i did kiss at you harshly, i owed you more passion than presentation, more substance than ash-flavored wine. repeating the thieves' cant, smothering the screen with nebulaic rants so purple the viewers turn green; i'm a sickness of things. i'm the definition of greed - too lazy to build but still hungry and plundering gold from some overflowing data table. read if you want, my river is babel.
on the cusp, hawaii 2018 by successwithhonor, literature
Literature
on the cusp, hawaii 2018
so i guess life from here on out is just one big ass sunset after another,
a spotify playlist featuring only throwbacks,
we close our eyes and share this cool drink of yesterday.
and we listen still even though we know all of the words,
let the chorus slip from our lips like a secret still worth telling.
i whisper into your ear, think that it only means enough to make it through the night,
but come morning, it sits on the bed with us, like a quilt. like the halved sun
pulped and offering a fleshy meal. this tangle of limbs, awkward recital, symbiosis by first light.
and this is to say that no one is ever in the mood for another cheesy
on the cusp, hawaii 2018 by successwithhonor, literature
Literature
on the cusp, hawaii 2018
so i guess life from here on out is just one big ass sunset after another,
a spotify playlist featuring only throwbacks,
we close our eyes and share this cool drink of yesterday.
and we listen still even though we know all of the words,
let the chorus slip from our lips like a secret still worth telling.
i whisper into your ear, think that it only means enough to make it through the night,
but come morning, it sits on the bed with us, like a quilt. like the halved sun
pulped and offering a fleshy meal. this tangle of limbs, awkward recital, symbiosis by first light.
and this is to say that no one is ever in the mood for another cheesy
silence let me
hang in the
dearth of
dawn,
slow swinging
with a yawn
displaced.
i've drawn
a face upon
the burial shroud,
cried loudly
at the upturned
ground of the
grave.
when nothing
is left but
the end of
the day,
who brings
low the knees
of unrepentant
snakes?
is the garden
possible
or has every letter
breathed been
laced
with a tyrant step
and death-bringing
shakes?
i.
i want
to eat every word
on the earth,
consume every
language,
devour each verb.
emerge
from a torrent
of diction
and claim
purpose.
o, i fervently
choke
on a dream
of resurgence.
ii.
i want
to grow,
to branch out
like yggdrasil,
root myself in thought
and theory
and possibility.
if i conjugate
this, if i split
infinitely, if i
can exist
without drowning,
how can i make
something from
my fragmented
wrist?
iii.
i won't
know.
all the world
will explode
with meaning and lessons
golden; it will press on
bold
through space and time,
churn unknowns
into concerns
then into
the learned.
and i won't
hold it all,
cannot see everything,
canno
summer inertia weighs heavy
as a blanket during a nightmare;
even hummingbird wings beat
at halfspeed and the flit of the dragonfly
is caught in molasses; smiles
wane in the sun-drenched afternoon.
shadows stretch till long as pine trees -
a dark, sparse colonnade along the grass
and the spider dares move only
on impending footfalls; its web bobbing
sultry in the heat.
onto the blistered, brittle land
the sun spits
and the sky melts
into the inferior mirage.
'gaming' the future... win-win or win-lose by alapip, literature
Literature
'gaming' the future... win-win or win-lose
cosmic reality seeks stability
within the chaos of random chance
forever failing try by try
forever succeeding bit by bit
winning thru the latter
a universal plumb
nonzero sum... winning?
yes - [for the most part]
the trial continues
it is everywhere
it is everything
it is endless
from the miniscule to the colossal
as must be - thus this truth
We are enfolded
We are connected
the 'arrow' of time trends up -
as well as forward
and [as has been said]
"... it bends toward justice"
however
here on This Planet
due to human deeds
for good or ill it seems -
WE have become
the tip of that 'arrow'
llp - dA - apr2018
expanded journal entr
in getting there
I stowed words of fever
in a green field, beneath some stones
a place so peaceful
unlikely anyone had gone
and life was piecemeal, debris
gathered on footstep dawn
treading less softly each day
where everyone is drowning
*
in getting there,
to hilly lands and quiet
little porch creaks
under shifting momentary weight
I rode the color line,
passing red skies, blue skies
between here and then- that time
when everything was more alive
moments ago,
I saw a pale moon connecting
tigers in the teeth,
spitting apple seeds
and a mothra sky above you
you were alone,
in narcissistic dreams
dangling participles, precipices
like prefixes
for the perfect storm that follows
just around the bend
that mixture of perfume,
and knowledge that our youth
won’t still a certain wisdom
wasted on me
somehow forbidden, partly hidden
but the lines between things show
how one feeds to another
and maybe as you know
we are as different as intended—
I could climb into the giant, I know,
and
share the moon with perfect strangers,
that I know