Submissions by TheBuggiest
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I mostly write little self-indulgent things when I'm in the right kinda mood (lots of free-verse/I-made-this-structure-up metaphor type stuff). It's nice, but my real passion is storytelling.
SELF POEM
Published
17th Nov 2016 11:17pm
17th Nov 2016 11:17pm
Freight
Speed is a drug, they say, but the train is more than speed.
It siphons in the fuel, gallons and gallons, just to make it budge an inch
Engine shudders and wheels turn and heat builds
And the great machine slowly gains its hard-earned momentum
Passersby stare at the pace, sure it must crash
Sure the frantic movement and the roar of its parts can only end in chaos
But they don’t see the pattern it follows so easily
The tracks laid out in their methodical way
The world races by in a whirlwind of colors it can barely take in...
It siphons in the fuel, gallons and gallons, just to make it budge an inch
Engine shudders and wheels turn and heat builds
And the great machine slowly gains its hard-earned momentum
Passersby stare at the pace, sure it must crash
Sure the frantic movement and the roar of its parts can only end in chaos
But they don’t see the pattern it follows so easily
The tracks laid out in their methodical way
The world races by in a whirlwind of colors it can barely take in...
459 reads
0 Comments
SONG LYRICS
Published
17th Nov 2016 11:16pm
17th Nov 2016 11:16pm
Huxley's Song
You must think I'm rather apathetic, Dauger,
When and if I think of those still trapped inside this place.
And yes, perhaps I come across as heartless, selfish,
My methods are draconian, but when you get down to the base
Of everything I've worked for, of everything that I have planned;
I'm working toward a purpose, and I know that you don't understand.
Now Edmund please sit still now and just listen, closely,
In a few short hours you won't know we spoke at all.
I know that you're still looking for that moron, Miller,
You think that he can help...
When and if I think of those still trapped inside this place.
And yes, perhaps I come across as heartless, selfish,
My methods are draconian, but when you get down to the base
Of everything I've worked for, of everything that I have planned;
I'm working toward a purpose, and I know that you don't understand.
Now Edmund please sit still now and just listen, closely,
In a few short hours you won't know we spoke at all.
I know that you're still looking for that moron, Miller,
You think that he can help...
576 reads
0 Comments
SONG LYRICS
Published
17th Nov 2016 12:17pm
17th Nov 2016 12:17pm
vanities
I hope you know
that I want to be available, but
what can I do
with the meager resources I have? I mean I
still keep believing
that I was made me for a reason;
that this soul inside of me isn't as broken as it feels. I feel like
I've only just
begun to learn how to appreciate the
scope of feeling
you exhibit every time you breathe. I
wish I could so
easily open up myself to you
instead of feeling that I'm just begging for a pick me up before moving on, and
this is just
another little creature's vanities ...
that I want to be available, but
what can I do
with the meager resources I have? I mean I
still keep believing
that I was made me for a reason;
that this soul inside of me isn't as broken as it feels. I feel like
I've only just
begun to learn how to appreciate the
scope of feeling
you exhibit every time you breathe. I
wish I could so
easily open up myself to you
instead of feeling that I'm just begging for a pick me up before moving on, and
this is just
another little creature's vanities ...
466 reads
2 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
17th Nov 2016 12:16pm
17th Nov 2016 12:16pm
Shattered Glass
Through worlds and through space we searched but in vain
For pieces we lost in ages since past;
After he damned us to this form- our chain-
The blow was struck, but its damage won't last.
We- no not we, it is I who must look
To regain control of the broken three:
Siblings whose very foundation he shook
Will be raised up again out of the scree
Of our ruined glory to once more fly
In the face of the one who dared insult
The way things once were through trickery sly.
Ravage unworthy with Fear, Want, and Cult!
But I am not whole; a...
For pieces we lost in ages since past;
After he damned us to this form- our chain-
The blow was struck, but its damage won't last.
We- no not we, it is I who must look
To regain control of the broken three:
Siblings whose very foundation he shook
Will be raised up again out of the scree
Of our ruined glory to once more fly
In the face of the one who dared insult
The way things once were through trickery sly.
Ravage unworthy with Fear, Want, and Cult!
But I am not whole; a...
462 reads
0 Comments
SONG LYRICS
Published
17th Nov 2016 3:18am
17th Nov 2016 3:18am
Malpractice
Back and forth, back and forth, then around in a circle;
I'm not even sure which way is up anymore.
Every time I try to take another step forward
You dig in your heels and drag me right back through the door.
Then comes the second guessing and the hasty reanalysis:
Did you hurt me or am I a hypochondriac?
I had my doubts and questions, so I ran it past my lawyer
Who looked over all the evidence and told me you're a quack.
EXHIBIT A.
You couldn't find a pulse, so you told me that there wasn't one;
A straight up case of...
I'm not even sure which way is up anymore.
Every time I try to take another step forward
You dig in your heels and drag me right back through the door.
Then comes the second guessing and the hasty reanalysis:
Did you hurt me or am I a hypochondriac?
I had my doubts and questions, so I ran it past my lawyer
Who looked over all the evidence and told me you're a quack.
EXHIBIT A.
You couldn't find a pulse, so you told me that there wasn't one;
A straight up case of...
493 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
17th Nov 2016 3:15am
17th Nov 2016 3:15am
Lessons in Humanity
Sometimes I wonder, when I'm up a little too late
After working for eight hours then wasting the rest
When the dark settles in with its muffled sigh
Like the last black grains sliding into the bottom part of the glass
When night gnaws with rodent teeth at the back of my mind
Hissing the list I buried under fluttering butterfly thoughts
When everyone is gone and I am finally alone
Is there something I missed?
Sometimes I wonder, when I step across the border
Victorious and dragging the vanquished in my wake
When it's blowing all my seams just trying...
After working for eight hours then wasting the rest
When the dark settles in with its muffled sigh
Like the last black grains sliding into the bottom part of the glass
When night gnaws with rodent teeth at the back of my mind
Hissing the list I buried under fluttering butterfly thoughts
When everyone is gone and I am finally alone
Is there something I missed?
Sometimes I wonder, when I step across the border
Victorious and dragging the vanquished in my wake
When it's blowing all my seams just trying...
571 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
16th Nov 2016 12:19pm
16th Nov 2016 12:19pm
An Octopus's Lament
You'd think it'd be easier to hug people with eight arms.
As much as they poke around in the conversation, that old disconnect between feeling and brain kicks in
leaving me to watch and analyze every movement of yours and of mine
hoping desperately for some familiar pattern to suction myself to.
And it's tough trying to make friends with a face like this.
They always say I look alien, perhaps fearsome, but behind the unblinking eyes
I'm just a spineless old softie with two hearts too many,
none of which do that great of a job anyways.
...
As much as they poke around in the conversation, that old disconnect between feeling and brain kicks in
leaving me to watch and analyze every movement of yours and of mine
hoping desperately for some familiar pattern to suction myself to.
And it's tough trying to make friends with a face like this.
They always say I look alien, perhaps fearsome, but behind the unblinking eyes
I'm just a spineless old softie with two hearts too many,
none of which do that great of a job anyways.
...
480 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
16th Nov 2016 12:17pm
16th Nov 2016 12:17pm
Disposable Philosophy
Look at the pretty plastic baubles
Strung around necks, purchased with quarters
Neon clashing with neon
Hearts and crosses and yin-yangs and smiley faces
Traded between hands on the playground, admired
Because they're shiny, though you don't know what they mean
Stowed in magpie boxes like treasure
Except treasure would have survived the fire
It wouldn't melt and crack and burn your skin
Tomorrow it's on the curb
Because you grew up, or that's what the others called it
When silently they told you
That everyone is an animal
Squalling through...
Strung around necks, purchased with quarters
Neon clashing with neon
Hearts and crosses and yin-yangs and smiley faces
Traded between hands on the playground, admired
Because they're shiny, though you don't know what they mean
Stowed in magpie boxes like treasure
Except treasure would have survived the fire
It wouldn't melt and crack and burn your skin
Tomorrow it's on the curb
Because you grew up, or that's what the others called it
When silently they told you
That everyone is an animal
Squalling through...
409 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
15th Nov 2016 11:17pm
15th Nov 2016 11:17pm
An attempt at empathy.
Hello friend! Down here. It's just me, the armadillo again.
I know things have been tough. Not through experience obviously, I mean I have a shell.
Rocks and stuff just bounce right off. It's pretty great when I'm digging. You wouldn't believe how deep a hole I dug for myself yesterday, didn't worry about cave-ins at all- but I'm not here to talk about me. Sorry.
Y'see, I kind of noticed you don't have a shell.
And that makes our perspectives pretty... disparate? Yeah. Disparate, that's the right word.
Also I can dig a lot better than you. That's...
I know things have been tough. Not through experience obviously, I mean I have a shell.
Rocks and stuff just bounce right off. It's pretty great when I'm digging. You wouldn't believe how deep a hole I dug for myself yesterday, didn't worry about cave-ins at all- but I'm not here to talk about me. Sorry.
Y'see, I kind of noticed you don't have a shell.
And that makes our perspectives pretty... disparate? Yeah. Disparate, that's the right word.
Also I can dig a lot better than you. That's...
363 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
15th Nov 2016 11:15pm
15th Nov 2016 11:15pm
Wormwood
There flows a bitter spring in depths below, umplumbed
When everything goes still you can hear it roiling
Boiling, pounding against its confines like a drum
Clawing for the surface and snarling for release
Pressure building fueling struggle, lighting fuses
But it loses sway near surface to shallow peace
Sunbeams reach through branches, try to touch the shadow
Softening grey stones with hues both warm and golden
Still cold and alone, they look a bit less sad though
Come birds, sing your songs louder! Dogs, why don't you bark? ...
When everything goes still you can hear it roiling
Boiling, pounding against its confines like a drum
Clawing for the surface and snarling for release
Pressure building fueling struggle, lighting fuses
But it loses sway near surface to shallow peace
Sunbeams reach through branches, try to touch the shadow
Softening grey stones with hues both warm and golden
Still cold and alone, they look a bit less sad though
Come birds, sing your songs louder! Dogs, why don't you bark? ...
436 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by TheBuggiest
