-Cultural operating systems /Shamanism
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A narrative poem
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Driftmaybe if i close my eyes , shut out the lamp light, in an ego-less miasma and in the quiet prickling plasma of my seclusion,Drift
drift. maybe if i think of nothing, want for nothing, and in this room, lulled like an infant learning colours, just go with it. i can let my brain take the reins
while i sit and let it happen; the nerves in my fingers like sinews tied to some higher chi, twitch with animal impulses, as all around me my word-womb pulses, and i simply, in a lullaby, submit.
by ~pennyfromaskyscraper
A child's stories + TrevorWhen I was a child I played out endless reams of stories without discernable beginnings or endings, like an ongoing soap opera that would take you through every situation conceivable. This imaginary life was mine. My bedroom was not my bedroom but a kingdom with buildings and caves and streets. The blue carpet of the stairs was a vast perilous waterfall down which many intrepid explorers met their end. If I didn’t have a toy I’d use anything I could find, and I would constantly be customizing the scenery. Some pencils and a roll of tape was once a vortex into another dimension tacked on top of a doll’s house roof; it resembledA child's stories + Trevor
by ~pennyfromaskyscraper
end of the worldi saw the streets cave in this morning. a bleeding aeroplane tore apart the sky and it fell down like a cheap cinema screen. behind it there was nothing forever and ever only death forever and for ever.end of the world
no more arguments for ever and forever and the phone lines died.
i saw the streets flood with broken promises today. parliament grew old and crumbled, and the moss ate away all its broken spires and brick by brick every house drowned in regret as the banks broke.
piece by piece i saw the city end i could have walk the train lines for those hundred mile
by ~pennyfromaskyscraper
haiku 2 day 2on your mother's legs looking at a daisy grow bare upon the grasshaiku 2 day 2
sky is like a deep bright blue ocean all around: we hover above
looking at the shapes of animals in the clouds. can you see them too?
planets are your eyes new worlds on which i can't land innocent planets.
by ~pennyfromaskyscraper
Favourites
If I were writtenIf I were written,If I were written
how would I taste?
I could be a dictionary - bland - yet a necessity.
It’s possible I could have
the flavour of receipts,
spit me out,
get your money back –
it won’t affect your
statutory rights.
Perhaps I’d be
a top-shelf magazine –
an addictive tang kept as a treat.
Maybe you’d trace
your tongue
over
by ~Sleeping-Elf
Ceramic CloudCeramic cloud, unbroken air you have collected me like a sigh pooled in the skyCeramic Cloud
of my lungs I have pressed my rose thoughts to you, felt your cold fog, this fired smog, bowing
in the wind
of events. ...Breathless! and not yet full enough to rain though always strong enough
to shatter
I have learned from you It. The most basic and estranged principle:
truth is mythical, perhaps abstract, perhaps definetely ignored -
but not so very out of reach
by ~SoothingAngel
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My work is copyrighted ©2009 *Deb-e-ann. Therefore do not use for any purpose without my prior permission.
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In the confusion of a smoke bomb
I could remove your bra
and you wouldn't even notice...
"As I turned the corner I felt muscular and compact...like corned beef"
i don't always have time, and the time i do spend writing i spend every minute of it working on my novel.. oh well, priorities , what can i say..
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a-poem-a-day
my artwork
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a-poem-a-day
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