Submissions by Randon
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
16th Feb 2021 3:30pm
16th Feb 2021 3:30pm
OuterSpace Breathes 40mm Baton Rounds
Her strong legs lifted me into a spacecraft. The controls were sticky with a grainy syrup. We were doomed. But honestly, we had been doomed since long before this ship had even rolled off the assembly line.
Some sick fuck dreamed of experimenting on people like us. (My wet legs slip into her body). His name was Igor Lott. He was a scientist for the Imperialist Party. (Tongues intertwining like a DNA strand). He planned to conquer death in the name of the Greatest People. We were stepping stones to that end. (Her cocktail dress and jewels burned and burrowed into my thick layers of...
Some sick fuck dreamed of experimenting on people like us. (My wet legs slip into her body). His name was Igor Lott. He was a scientist for the Imperialist Party. (Tongues intertwining like a DNA strand). He planned to conquer death in the name of the Greatest People. We were stepping stones to that end. (Her cocktail dress and jewels burned and burrowed into my thick layers of...
#suffering
451 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
14th Feb 2021 5:29am
14th Feb 2021 5:29am
Pagliacci...not the Clown...this Pagliacci was a Carpenter.
#death
403 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
11th Feb 2021 4:50am
11th Feb 2021 4:50am
Mildew was a Layer of Her Eggs of Being
Lawrence sat in the corner booth, the one at the end that was half a booth, directly facing a graffitied brick wall. His knees cold up against the muscles of brick.
He hoped she might forget him there. He had neither money for the check, nor the will to go back home to his abusive companion.
It’s probably why they sat him there in the first place. An awkward and blind escape from that angle.
“They had hoped to embarrass him, I imagine.”
He hoped she might forget him there. He had neither money for the check, nor the will to go back home to his abusive companion.
It’s probably why they sat him there in the first place. An awkward and blind escape from that angle.
“They had hoped to embarrass him, I imagine.”
#anger
429 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
7th Feb 2021 5:13pm
7th Feb 2021 5:13pm
Angstloch
The thin oak planks rang out and stretched like the lashes on my back. I love her.
Ancient whispers of bread crusts and murky puddles in my rusted platters. We dance.
Organization of our soldered genitalia. Like a Chagal. Like a blueprint of winding afterlives.
Forever and ever and ever, my honey-soaked and lock-jawed bride. Animal hides and the erudite silk of dead eyes.
Her fingers grip the fibers of my aqueducts, click of motors. Bare bodies under the blankets of tongue-like leathers and permanent need.
Flowers for Christ. Oils from our severed, thick leg...
Ancient whispers of bread crusts and murky puddles in my rusted platters. We dance.
Organization of our soldered genitalia. Like a Chagal. Like a blueprint of winding afterlives.
Forever and ever and ever, my honey-soaked and lock-jawed bride. Animal hides and the erudite silk of dead eyes.
Her fingers grip the fibers of my aqueducts, click of motors. Bare bodies under the blankets of tongue-like leathers and permanent need.
Flowers for Christ. Oils from our severed, thick leg...
#love
505 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
5th Feb 2021 11:48am
5th Feb 2021 11:48am
Jars of Polyester
I am sorrowful that the screen has dimmed to fabric and the hushed scrape of empty north winds. Where his tightened jaw muscles squealed the lectures of blood beats, now is covalent bonds, salt grains, paranoia, burning bristles, cold car seats, tedious cravings...
Our creamy bodies sit in case files and sarcophagi, sipping our dinner, burning hides of accompaniments strapped to our bond.
Our creamy bodies sit in case files and sarcophagi, sipping our dinner, burning hides of accompaniments strapped to our bond.
#silence
436 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
30th Jan 2021 4:03pm
30th Jan 2021 4:03pm
The Chain of Legacies
From the Amniotic Crypt, the new Hannibal has risen. His army of cybernetic titans wriggling anxiously in the metal that bears them.
A Womb Basin of army men and paleontological wet dreams. Slick with blood. Gummed with grease.
The world is not disgusting enough for me. It’s Lethality has become charms and medals, parchments.
And I feared you on the foothills amongst the strong life. Bathing tonight in your green and white light and scriptural mutterings.
A Womb Basin of army men and paleontological wet dreams. Slick with blood. Gummed with grease.
The world is not disgusting enough for me. It’s Lethality has become charms and medals, parchments.
And I feared you on the foothills amongst the strong life. Bathing tonight in your green and white light and scriptural mutterings.
#rebirth
388 reads
5 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
18th Nov 2020 5:03am
18th Nov 2020 5:03am
Scriptures From the Scaly Eyes of a Hypothermic
Ecstatic despair.
Sweating in the tide pool.
We overheard their terroristic plots leveled against secret feline sex cults and democratic book clubs.
Our lady fused to our lengthening bones as we grew out of the water’s edge.
We are pushing ourselves harder
And she is growing into a fierce weapon.
Her slender electronics glistened
And pulsed with organic red glow.
Freaks are in the streets and turbulence on the phone lines.
Every torture brings me closer to
A throbbing trophy.
Laser fights and boot-steps in the background...
Sweating in the tide pool.
We overheard their terroristic plots leveled against secret feline sex cults and democratic book clubs.
Our lady fused to our lengthening bones as we grew out of the water’s edge.
We are pushing ourselves harder
And she is growing into a fierce weapon.
Her slender electronics glistened
And pulsed with organic red glow.
Freaks are in the streets and turbulence on the phone lines.
Every torture brings me closer to
A throbbing trophy.
Laser fights and boot-steps in the background...
#manipulation
393 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
17th Nov 2020 11:28am
17th Nov 2020 11:28am
Zombie Werewolves from Outer Space are Coming for your Children
Grab ‘em by the Amygdala,” he snorted.
“I will never lie to you.”
Streamers of bright orange blood flood the pink skies.
Hallelujah, hallelujah!
“They are gonna love you, Space Refugee...love you to death.”
(Powder pink are the headlines and prophecies. The sacrifice pit is growing.)
To be continued...
“I will never lie to you.”
Streamers of bright orange blood flood the pink skies.
Hallelujah, hallelujah!
“They are gonna love you, Space Refugee...love you to death.”
(Powder pink are the headlines and prophecies. The sacrifice pit is growing.)
To be continued...
#corruption
477 reads
5 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
16th Nov 2020 00:49am
16th Nov 2020 00:49am
The Only Reason That Time Travel is Currently, Completely Impossible
Is because mosquito babies are born out of Blood.
#minimalist
416 reads
3 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
13th Nov 2020 4:05am
13th Nov 2020 4:05am
Octopus Pit
Lisa looked over her shoulder
To see if the two were still working on her.
These two were the grotesque type,
Too over the top; not in a fun way,
A scary way.
They were grinding their metal teeth,
So wet with spittle.
Her larvae were growing tall under her feet, they were writhing about and tangling themselves on her hard, slender, stilettoed heels.
Main Street glistened under red and yellow lights -
Electric bloodshed and remote radio convulsions.
Crime scene photos sold on the black market.
The crumpled paper in my pocket, the...
To see if the two were still working on her.
These two were the grotesque type,
Too over the top; not in a fun way,
A scary way.
They were grinding their metal teeth,
So wet with spittle.
Her larvae were growing tall under her feet, they were writhing about and tangling themselves on her hard, slender, stilettoed heels.
Main Street glistened under red and yellow lights -
Electric bloodshed and remote radio convulsions.
Crime scene photos sold on the black market.
The crumpled paper in my pocket, the...
#depression
#death
580 reads
4 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
7th Nov 2020 8:35am
7th Nov 2020 8:35am
Portal Protein
My body and vessel were wet and inflamed along the travel lines.
I held the film and aura of absolute doom.
The door was grinding open.
The era was displayed on my instruments and the risk of itchy collapse radiated in warning glows.
Her horny thighs approached me, glistening with fabrics undiscovered.
Her mucosa conspired.
The red tips of her trigger fingers alive with the chatter and melting of my ribs and femur bones.
In coded collapse and ritualized disguises, the walls bled and glistened.
Mania, mutilation, surrealist tableaux. ...
I held the film and aura of absolute doom.
The door was grinding open.
The era was displayed on my instruments and the risk of itchy collapse radiated in warning glows.
Her horny thighs approached me, glistening with fabrics undiscovered.
Her mucosa conspired.
The red tips of her trigger fingers alive with the chatter and melting of my ribs and femur bones.
In coded collapse and ritualized disguises, the walls bled and glistened.
Mania, mutilation, surrealist tableaux. ...
#death
574 reads
9 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
3rd Nov 2020 3:45am
3rd Nov 2020 3:45am
Grave of a Thousand Nuclei - Part 1
The streets were cold and unforgiving on the night in question.
They were slick, fake, and solid cold like the future in a car commercial.
I met Hazel around the corner at an atomic vomitorium.
I think the place was called Sal’s or Ace’s or something like that.
Anyway, when she walked in, her skin was rich with all sorts of protrusions and lacerations, and decadent bruising.
I was shocked. I couldn’t believe the Operative partnered with her would do something like this. And she was way too good to be caught behind enemy lines.
So, what gives?
The...
They were slick, fake, and solid cold like the future in a car commercial.
I met Hazel around the corner at an atomic vomitorium.
I think the place was called Sal’s or Ace’s or something like that.
Anyway, when she walked in, her skin was rich with all sorts of protrusions and lacerations, and decadent bruising.
I was shocked. I couldn’t believe the Operative partnered with her would do something like this. And she was way too good to be caught behind enemy lines.
So, what gives?
The...
#MentalHealth
#tradition
#obsession
455 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Randon
