Submissions by Atakti
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Turbulent waters ahead, sharks behind, shut up and paddle...
STORY POEM
Published
15th Dec 2012 3:17pm
15th Dec 2012 3:17pm
Escape Plan - 9 Days to Go
Assuming we’re still here on the twenty-second
(knowing my luck, even that wouldn’t be
excuse enough to skip the festive obligations,
I can just see it now, “Pass the post-
apocalyptic chocolate truffles, dear, and
open the door for the caroling mutants”),
This galaxy isn’t far away enough, so I dial
0800 – PHONE – HOME but E.T.
had stepped out. So, I message Paul
but the lil’ bugger is stoned and – fuck it –
had crashed his spaceship. It looks like I’m
gonna have to storm Orlando’s space center
and borrow one myself....
(knowing my luck, even that wouldn’t be
excuse enough to skip the festive obligations,
I can just see it now, “Pass the post-
apocalyptic chocolate truffles, dear, and
open the door for the caroling mutants”),
This galaxy isn’t far away enough, so I dial
0800 – PHONE – HOME but E.T.
had stepped out. So, I message Paul
but the lil’ bugger is stoned and – fuck it –
had crashed his spaceship. It looks like I’m
gonna have to storm Orlando’s space center
and borrow one myself....
799 reads
8 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
15th Dec 2012 8:08am
15th Dec 2012 8:08am
Stream of Babble
It's late but I won't sleep
until my head is heavy.
I can fix everyone else's
problems, but I struggle with my own.
Apparently, I have PTSD by proxy, which may
or may not make sense. Doc said it's
"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder" because
I'm witnessing my mother's deterioration.
"by proxy" because she hasn't died
yet.
People say it's difficult and how
I have a lot on my plate.
I say, I know, and I'm full up,
dammit. Is it my fault
it has manifested into this strange ...
until my head is heavy.
I can fix everyone else's
problems, but I struggle with my own.
Apparently, I have PTSD by proxy, which may
or may not make sense. Doc said it's
"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder" because
I'm witnessing my mother's deterioration.
"by proxy" because she hasn't died
yet.
People say it's difficult and how
I have a lot on my plate.
I say, I know, and I'm full up,
dammit. Is it my fault
it has manifested into this strange ...
743 reads
12 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
12th Dec 2012 8:32pm
12th Dec 2012 8:32pm
Escape Plan - 13 Days to Go
There’s a tree by my desk
brought on by the oncoming
festive season.
I’ve done some shopping
but my heart isn’t in it.
“Merry Shitmas!”
If I had my ‘druthers’ I’d
be swingin’ in this hammock,
happily alone.
Throw in a good fishing
ability and an unlimited
supply of wood
and that would be it.
No internet would mean
goodbye, DU.
P.S. position open for cocktail
waiter. Clothing optional,
paid in fish.
brought on by the oncoming
festive season.
I’ve done some shopping
but my heart isn’t in it.
“Merry Shitmas!”
If I had my ‘druthers’ I’d
be swingin’ in this hammock,
happily alone.
Throw in a good fishing
ability and an unlimited
supply of wood
and that would be it.
No internet would mean
goodbye, DU.
P.S. position open for cocktail
waiter. Clothing optional,
paid in fish.
796 reads
17 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
11th Dec 2012 7:20pm
11th Dec 2012 7:20pm
Oscillatory Reflections
I am noticed for my
elegant frame,
my glimmer —
A focus of admiration
or twisted
repulsion.
While beauty shines outwards,
my charming
gift is sought.
I hold glaring honesty,
with instant
reactions.
Unfailingly, I must accept
nothing more
than contempt.
I am abandoned,
anchored here
and alone.
No one considers the
echoing soul
of a mirror.
elegant frame,
my glimmer —
A focus of admiration
or twisted
repulsion.
While beauty shines outwards,
my charming
gift is sought.
I hold glaring honesty,
with instant
reactions.
Unfailingly, I must accept
nothing more
than contempt.
I am abandoned,
anchored here
and alone.
No one considers the
echoing soul
of a mirror.
782 reads
28 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
9th Dec 2012 5:20pm
9th Dec 2012 5:20pm
Southernmost
Shreds slice through the
unforgiving white.
Drifts powder and swirl
to veil and unveil.
Glares soften, the buried light
blushes its practiced embers.
The melting sun lingers,
denying its abandonment.
Abundant space holds
cold-birthed floes.
This land is twinned to
a moon-glowed sky
where ice-gems glitter in
undisturbed splendor, until
Aurora Australis blazes
its wicked dance.
Photograph by: Deven Stross
National Science Foundation
unforgiving white.
Drifts powder and swirl
to veil and unveil.
Glares soften, the buried light
blushes its practiced embers.
The melting sun lingers,
denying its abandonment.
Abundant space holds
cold-birthed floes.
This land is twinned to
a moon-glowed sky
where ice-gems glitter in
undisturbed splendor, until
Aurora Australis blazes
its wicked dance.
Photograph by: Deven Stross
National Science Foundation
761 reads
17 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
7th Dec 2012 4:14pm
7th Dec 2012 4:14pm
viridian desolation
spat out from the joyless sea,
awash with bruised decay,
an entity unwelcomed
the disdain swirls and
splits into pigmented indifference,
marks skin perpetually
uranium agent flaked,
arsenic amethyst mixed,
the faded star extinguished
a red-swollen, clouded glaze
remains, unseeing rejection’s
abyss, naked in dejection
Submitted for competition - poems on above image
awash with bruised decay,
an entity unwelcomed
the disdain swirls and
splits into pigmented indifference,
marks skin perpetually
uranium agent flaked,
arsenic amethyst mixed,
the faded star extinguished
a red-swollen, clouded glaze
remains, unseeing rejection’s
abyss, naked in dejection
Submitted for competition - poems on above image
1095 reads
18 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
4th Dec 2012 7:35pm
4th Dec 2012 7:35pm
Fire of Insight
spark ignites
twists, turns, glows
amber gem shining
cowering darkness
warm breath whispers,
kindles the first
flares, glints, flares
blossoms of flashes
licks at the black
stretches and glares
murmurs and snaps
flickers to flames
crackles then growls
roaring ablaze
tarry not, mortal
encircled, scorched
Submitted for the "Dangerous, Strange, Lost.. or Whatever.." competition, where each poet's rank is the inspiration. This poem is about the rank, not about any...
twists, turns, glows
amber gem shining
cowering darkness
warm breath whispers,
kindles the first
flares, glints, flares
blossoms of flashes
licks at the black
stretches and glares
murmurs and snaps
flickers to flames
crackles then growls
roaring ablaze
tarry not, mortal
encircled, scorched
Submitted for the "Dangerous, Strange, Lost.. or Whatever.." competition, where each poet's rank is the inspiration. This poem is about the rank, not about any...
819 reads
14 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
2nd Dec 2012 8:38pm
2nd Dec 2012 8:38pm
Heart Swell
He wishes the sky was white. Actually, he
bids it be no color, so he can
see the stars in the daytime.
He creates the tree in many colors, then
gives it away. He notices the smallest
strokes in treasured masterpieces.
He is flawed, mercifully. An angel would
be sent on holy missions. Keep ‘perfect’ for
instanced Nirvanas, let him be.
bids it be no color, so he can
see the stars in the daytime.
He creates the tree in many colors, then
gives it away. He notices the smallest
strokes in treasured masterpieces.
He is flawed, mercifully. An angel would
be sent on holy missions. Keep ‘perfect’ for
instanced Nirvanas, let him be.
1106 reads
16 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
30th Nov 2012 6:16pm
30th Nov 2012 6:16pm
bereft
I’ve been irritated before
this isn’t it
I’ve been self-pitying before
this isn’t it
there’s a growing prickling
around the back of my skull
pushing me to contemplate
my mortality
Am I done here?
no fucker has the answers
although they’re only too happy
to share the wrong ones
too tired to think now
and too numbed to feel
aware enough to grimace
at suffocating clichés
this is it, when the journey
is pointless and only
the destination holds
the slightest bit of interest
this isn’t it
I’ve been self-pitying before
this isn’t it
there’s a growing prickling
around the back of my skull
pushing me to contemplate
my mortality
Am I done here?
no fucker has the answers
although they’re only too happy
to share the wrong ones
too tired to think now
and too numbed to feel
aware enough to grimace
at suffocating clichés
this is it, when the journey
is pointless and only
the destination holds
the slightest bit of interest
1053 reads
23 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
23rd Nov 2012 8:54pm
23rd Nov 2012 8:54pm
Butchered
I’m thrust forward, stumbling into the glare
of sun and dust. I squint fruitlessly,
as the roar slams into me. The crowd and
the beast are one.
My dirt-caked hands grip a sword
stained in blood rust. My grasp tightens
as I try to take in yards of menaced space.
I am ill-prepared in mind and body.
Captive, I had survived one bowlful of water
to the next. The raw stinking meat I snatched up,
tore into, kicking rats away, as I tried
Not to wretch.
Time whirls in the now, as I breathe in
acrid sweat and moiled...
of sun and dust. I squint fruitlessly,
as the roar slams into me. The crowd and
the beast are one.
My dirt-caked hands grip a sword
stained in blood rust. My grasp tightens
as I try to take in yards of menaced space.
I am ill-prepared in mind and body.
Captive, I had survived one bowlful of water
to the next. The raw stinking meat I snatched up,
tore into, kicking rats away, as I tried
Not to wretch.
Time whirls in the now, as I breathe in
acrid sweat and moiled...
1075 reads
36 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
21st Nov 2012 6:59pm
21st Nov 2012 6:59pm
what is a thought provoker?
the side you must clamber
the ravine you scrape through
the cliff you knot ropes down
the abyss you retreat from
the boulders that crash loud,
and you quickly side step
the lava that spews forth,
which you flee without pause
the valley so peaceful,
its waters flow and soothe
the shelter that affords
you a place to call home
submitted for the "Dangerous, Strange, Lost.. or Whatever.." competition, where each poet's rank is the inspiration. This poem is about the rank, not about any...
the ravine you scrape through
the cliff you knot ropes down
the abyss you retreat from
the boulders that crash loud,
and you quickly side step
the lava that spews forth,
which you flee without pause
the valley so peaceful,
its waters flow and soothe
the shelter that affords
you a place to call home
submitted for the "Dangerous, Strange, Lost.. or Whatever.." competition, where each poet's rank is the inspiration. This poem is about the rank, not about any...
1017 reads
22 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
18th Nov 2012 10:09am
18th Nov 2012 10:09am
Unmended
1297 reads
24 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Atakti
