Submissions by Conley (Delling)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
i am everybody's stranger
DARK POEM
Published
31st Mar 2014 6:31pm
31st Mar 2014 6:31pm
another ole betsy excerpt
Jet black slithering rows of vertebrae writhe smoothly, lending a sick grace to the serpent frenzy, rows of scales randomly intertwining with other exacting like-rows of slithering perfection, alien entities, yet kin of nature-beast, curling about in a sky of blood, winding beautiful ever changing knots, these riddles of movement choreographed by the lust of the wind of fire that gust in kept-signals, puzzle turns, the language of graceful motion whirls. Limbs crawl over the yellowy orbs, while the thrum of flow dictates smoothly across the gyrating map lines of a greater machine path affixed...
562 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
31st Mar 2014 6:23pm
31st Mar 2014 6:23pm
ole betsy (an environment of product) excerpt
697 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
3rd Nov 2013 1:29am
3rd Nov 2013 1:29am
bug on the nose
bug on the nose
pop-hate, the latest hate-trend flea
fruit fly guy with a musty old treat
casa lit with no heat
retreat
entreat the unknown
lose questions find answers
green!
mean presidents
wean precedence
from bottles
how do I see?
20/20 bleary eyed
canine anger penetrates me
growl
snap
seethe!
sleep...
pop-hate, the latest hate-trend flea
fruit fly guy with a musty old treat
casa lit with no heat
retreat
entreat the unknown
lose questions find answers
green!
mean presidents
wean precedence
from bottles
how do I see?
20/20 bleary eyed
canine anger penetrates me
growl
snap
seethe!
sleep...
705 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
29th Oct 2013 3:41pm
29th Oct 2013 3:41pm
pandemic bacterial force
the work virus seems to be concentrated in china, but it isn't strictly endemic to that country, nor was china the source of this disease. if you contract this disease you will be able to eat, provide shelter, and pay taxes. 'sir? would you like a knee operation, or back surgery to go with that tax break'? if you test clean of work you will either be destitute; or you will be filled with vital energy and, suffer from fun-abundance. there is no known cure for work besides wealth. if your blood cells are enriched with wealth, you be diagnosed as work free.
637 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
10th Oct 2013 1:45pm
10th Oct 2013 1:45pm
the biological transformation of Sad Lad Jani
auuuuuuuum harer nama harer nama harer namaiva kevalam auuuuuuuum i am now breathing the life force of the sun towards me and into my aura meh meh meh ra ma ra ma ra ma auuuuuuuum atoh malkut ve gevurah ve gedulah e olam i am the god within the god the goodness of the god the joyful spirit of god i am the son of god once seen always known bagahi laca bachahé lamac cahi achabahé karrelyos ra ma ra ma ra ma khei khei khei auuuuuuuum harer nama harer nama harer namaiva kevalam notos oriens zephyr aquilo spiritus auuuuuuuum spirits of water spirits of fire auuuuuuuum the rhiannon of the birds are...
546 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
10th Oct 2013 1:41pm
10th Oct 2013 1:41pm
what if the sun were a detonator
to nuclear spirituality: and your memories were woven silk across the face of all the innate suffering, unleashed, whispering, unoiled gears crying in the dark. only a splay of white blindness to cut through lost sensation will revive the will of buried oak, or water walls. sifting through the thick on a stormy precipice before an open solar system while you dangle your old rags as a sacrifice to the power eked by will, you tend to see blood bubbles, gushers, and you offer your head by means of axe or adz, you don't mind, you're not there.
life
it is
unfair
happiness...
life
it is
unfair
happiness...
468 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
4th Oct 2013 7:05am
4th Oct 2013 7:05am
sundra vs chandra ------ poems that ain't poetry, prose that ain't prose = RANT
689 reads
1 Comment
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
24th Aug 2013 9:10am
24th Aug 2013 9:10am
Quirky - a way of life (an ode to swedish clouds)
I get jealous of signs; stop signs, pedestrian signs, bus signs, sign language, astrological signs--they always seem to know what to say. I'm a brief. If I single a moment out; give it blood, flesh, thought, essence... life would be a blink. Instead the is oncoming traffic. Traffic in my face. Trucks, trains, planes, unmarked cars, city officials,. I had a golf cart excised from my eye. The stars have never been the same. It's all pearl dust. I would like one tri. I would like 3 ones. Math slapped the turtle before it transmogrified itself into the ghastly seed you see before you--this...
576 reads
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
26th Jul 2013 2:55pm
26th Jul 2013 2:55pm
Lemon Salt Poems
Lemon Salt
The saddest smile, a joke about death
her lips, fig newton tooth decay kisses
the slammer
the knee slapping rivalry of comrades
amongst the dust of comical war
the man and the whore lie.
Lemon Salt From Jordan.
Can a 17 year old teenager have a brain gap?
Cleaning windows raises the chances of death!
Inhale every breath.
I've eaten lemons and pickles almost every week
I've eaten lemons and pickles almost every week
I've eaten lemons and pickles almost every week
God's little gift to mankind. ...
The saddest smile, a joke about death
her lips, fig newton tooth decay kisses
the slammer
the knee slapping rivalry of comrades
amongst the dust of comical war
the man and the whore lie.
Lemon Salt From Jordan.
Can a 17 year old teenager have a brain gap?
Cleaning windows raises the chances of death!
Inhale every breath.
I've eaten lemons and pickles almost every week
I've eaten lemons and pickles almost every week
I've eaten lemons and pickles almost every week
God's little gift to mankind. ...
663 reads
0 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
13th Jul 2013 11:42am
13th Jul 2013 11:42am
Air of breath! Live!
I haven't been sleeping, I haven't been dreaming. I'm not awake. Just Saturday morning cartoons for adults projected on the back of my eyelids, the annual flooding of the Nile, diurnal tactile scenarios. Illusory depictions of fiction -- reality. Ar Ee Em, intonations, eyes pinned open, the scenarios so quick, flashes lit withing camera-ized pupils. I know all the characters as I invent them at birth. I know all the places as I rent them from earth. The real confusion comes in when question states. How can I solidify awake? My reels digitized the soil and the sky together in a momentary...
528 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
6th Jul 2013 7:30pm
6th Jul 2013 7:30pm
forgotten tale or future sale
(our pike animates randomly from morning to morning)
man were the streets dead
quiet as dead fish
a hush of 'hungover' swept through the streets
an occasional whirl of turbulence
a wisp of 'who gives a fuck'
then the mighty hush
just last night i travailed trail to root's
the air was thick with acrid battle; smoke
apocalyptic fourth
eruptions of light
interruptions
bursts of artistic ammo drilling the sky
my ceiling was white
then i forged my way
...
man were the streets dead
quiet as dead fish
a hush of 'hungover' swept through the streets
an occasional whirl of turbulence
a wisp of 'who gives a fuck'
then the mighty hush
just last night i travailed trail to root's
the air was thick with acrid battle; smoke
apocalyptic fourth
eruptions of light
interruptions
bursts of artistic ammo drilling the sky
my ceiling was white
then i forged my way
...
528 reads
0 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
26th Jun 2013 4:51am
26th Jun 2013 4:51am
this is what i wrote on the card to burn:
this is what i wrote on the card to burn: in the morning there were only swan's wings boiling on the precipice of fall's demise, where the lower chasm kisses the labia of the sky. Exalt the bones. Inter the "soul". One must find the question when the answer is omniscient. And that's why lizards grew wings under the eye ov the pyramid we keep deep in our seas.
491 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by Conley (Delling)
