Submissions by heterodynemind
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
DARK POEM
Published
7th Mar 2010 1:55am
7th Mar 2010 1:55am
Why do I feel so hollow
Why do I feel so hollow;
Point? What's the point; 38, 44
Minutes from now, will I still be the same person?
Should I start to plan my exit;
Wounds are only temporary, they always say
Though it seemed like such a small thing, my entrance;
Wounds always end up hurting others more.
I used to drown my troubles in drink;
Antifreeze must run through my veins, by now.
I want to keep on breathing;
Exhaust; exhausted is my hope
My heart feels like a brick;
On the accelerator, my life depends
Up just ahead, there is a bridge;
Jump! start on...
Point? What's the point; 38, 44
Minutes from now, will I still be the same person?
Should I start to plan my exit;
Wounds are only temporary, they always say
Though it seemed like such a small thing, my entrance;
Wounds always end up hurting others more.
I used to drown my troubles in drink;
Antifreeze must run through my veins, by now.
I want to keep on breathing;
Exhaust; exhausted is my hope
My heart feels like a brick;
On the accelerator, my life depends
Up just ahead, there is a bridge;
Jump! start on...
813 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
3rd Mar 2010 2:40am
3rd Mar 2010 2:40am
For the love of mortals
Why does pain excite
When pleasure can't;
Love is boring,
Strange is good;
Why things are backwards-
A strange etude?
Why does boredom bite
With duller teeth,
Than sharp embrace
That hides the wound;
If we be mortal-
Then sing that tune?
When pleasure can't;
Love is boring,
Strange is good;
Why things are backwards-
A strange etude?
Why does boredom bite
With duller teeth,
Than sharp embrace
That hides the wound;
If we be mortal-
Then sing that tune?
795 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
3rd Mar 2010 2:40am
3rd Mar 2010 2:40am
Oath of the Dispossessed
The point of your knife would be a relief,
To save me the sadness of life, who's a thief;
Promises roses, and then gives us weeds;
In hearts they put hoses, and then watch us bleed.
I pledge allegiance to the land
Where dreams are dismembered, now take my hand..
The end of your gun would just cap the pain,
In beds of oppression, where we have lain:
There's safety in numbers, unless they have rifles;
They'll pick us off; ripe tomatoes, just trifles.
I pledge allegiance to the land
Where dreams are dismembered, now take my hand..
...
To save me the sadness of life, who's a thief;
Promises roses, and then gives us weeds;
In hearts they put hoses, and then watch us bleed.
I pledge allegiance to the land
Where dreams are dismembered, now take my hand..
The end of your gun would just cap the pain,
In beds of oppression, where we have lain:
There's safety in numbers, unless they have rifles;
They'll pick us off; ripe tomatoes, just trifles.
I pledge allegiance to the land
Where dreams are dismembered, now take my hand..
...
751 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
2nd Mar 2010 5:18am
2nd Mar 2010 5:18am
Woke up, it was Saturday..
Woke up, it was Saturday,
Looked out in the driveway:
There was the car,
On it's rubber-tired splendor;
Got behind the wheel, smiling
Drove and drove, for miles away-
Didn't really want to get anywhere;
Just wanted to go driving, drive..
Went to the meeting,
Wearing my best suit:
Took notes, smiled,
While I watched the clock above
Took names and numbers,
Told them we'd be in touch-
Didn't really want to get anywhere;
Just wanted to go driving, drive..
Made an appointment,
With my best lover:
Wined,...
Looked out in the driveway:
There was the car,
On it's rubber-tired splendor;
Got behind the wheel, smiling
Drove and drove, for miles away-
Didn't really want to get anywhere;
Just wanted to go driving, drive..
Went to the meeting,
Wearing my best suit:
Took notes, smiled,
While I watched the clock above
Took names and numbers,
Told them we'd be in touch-
Didn't really want to get anywhere;
Just wanted to go driving, drive..
Made an appointment,
With my best lover:
Wined,...
919 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
1st Mar 2010 4:18pm
1st Mar 2010 4:18pm
Questions haunt the waking man
questions haunt the waking man,
in the blazing air of morning
his breath the needle piercing blood;
red rhythms of the glass-bored voice of night.
change has devoured yesterday's laughter,
drunk slowly of ghostly desires broken free
as the killing universe listens, each wild-born day
and beats naked life, with a lingering kiss of decay.
in the blazing air of morning
his breath the needle piercing blood;
red rhythms of the glass-bored voice of night.
change has devoured yesterday's laughter,
drunk slowly of ghostly desires broken free
as the killing universe listens, each wild-born day
and beats naked life, with a lingering kiss of decay.
730 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
1st Mar 2010 4:17pm
1st Mar 2010 4:17pm
God hides in the smallest places
God hides in the smallest places:
the carelessly upturned cuff of a sleeve,
the highlight in a lover's eye,
tucked inside the spine of some book,
like a ribbon of place-marker
the pistil of a flower,
the smoke plume from a pipe,
swirled air through a Monarch's wing,
half filled cup, sitting in the sink,
dried tears on a handkerchief,
the pause, in a sob of anguish,
half burnt letter on the fire.
when your hand finally attempts to close on god,
you will find instead lint, dust, spores;
even though we are the predatory...
the carelessly upturned cuff of a sleeve,
the highlight in a lover's eye,
tucked inside the spine of some book,
like a ribbon of place-marker
the pistil of a flower,
the smoke plume from a pipe,
swirled air through a Monarch's wing,
half filled cup, sitting in the sink,
dried tears on a handkerchief,
the pause, in a sob of anguish,
half burnt letter on the fire.
when your hand finally attempts to close on god,
you will find instead lint, dust, spores;
even though we are the predatory...
711 reads
1 Comment
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
28th Feb 2010 5:54pm
28th Feb 2010 5:54pm
I Am in a Store - Time Machine
I am walking through double doors into a store.
The glass doors are smooth and cool against the
side of my hand. The doors open smoothly without
a sound. I walk through the entrance doors, and
the main store doors- and then
there is a narrow strip of dark indoor/outdoor
type carpet leading down a narrow aisle to a larger
aisle which runs the full width of the store.
All around are mannequins modeling clothing,
and silver chrome clothes rods with metal hangers
upon them, garments in all different colors and sizes.
There is nobody else in the store,...
The glass doors are smooth and cool against the
side of my hand. The doors open smoothly without
a sound. I walk through the entrance doors, and
the main store doors- and then
there is a narrow strip of dark indoor/outdoor
type carpet leading down a narrow aisle to a larger
aisle which runs the full width of the store.
All around are mannequins modeling clothing,
and silver chrome clothes rods with metal hangers
upon them, garments in all different colors and sizes.
There is nobody else in the store,...
782 reads
0 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
28th Feb 2010 5:36pm
28th Feb 2010 5:36pm
Melanie
It seemed as if he had always been there, just at the edge of her field of vision.
Slouching, eyes flicking over the paper's headlines indifferently; ah but she knew it was just a ruse.
And more importantly, he knew that she knew. Everything was like that with him, just a game
he played well, and part of their shared, secret knowledge was in the playing of that game,
and also her silent acquiescence and implied approval.
Now he appeared close by, and quietly moved to stand beside her, as she stepped down off the
porch, on her walk out to the mailbox. She remembered...
Slouching, eyes flicking over the paper's headlines indifferently; ah but she knew it was just a ruse.
And more importantly, he knew that she knew. Everything was like that with him, just a game
he played well, and part of their shared, secret knowledge was in the playing of that game,
and also her silent acquiescence and implied approval.
Now he appeared close by, and quietly moved to stand beside her, as she stepped down off the
porch, on her walk out to the mailbox. She remembered...
1152 reads
1 Comment
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
27th Feb 2010 4:52pm
27th Feb 2010 4:52pm
Pollyanna's Underground Etiquette Advice
Dear Pollyanna:
I was wondering, if you've recently killed a lover
(I mean, like, very recently) would it be bad etiquette
to immediately remove all his photos from your frames?
Somebody told me it was not the best idea.
What do you say?
-Rachel
Well, Rachel; congrats on solving a long-standing problem.
Offhand, I would have to say no, it would not be bad
etiquette, removing the offending photographs.
On the other hand, though there are no etiquette police that
are likely to be looking over your shoulder at what you're doing,
if any real...
I was wondering, if you've recently killed a lover
(I mean, like, very recently) would it be bad etiquette
to immediately remove all his photos from your frames?
Somebody told me it was not the best idea.
What do you say?
-Rachel
Well, Rachel; congrats on solving a long-standing problem.
Offhand, I would have to say no, it would not be bad
etiquette, removing the offending photographs.
On the other hand, though there are no etiquette police that
are likely to be looking over your shoulder at what you're doing,
if any real...
939 reads
0 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
27th Feb 2010 4:30pm
27th Feb 2010 4:30pm
He never seemed too picky
He never seemed too picky,
Always acquiring them rather easily;
Movie theater, skating rink; bar scene
The young and inexperienced seemed to suffer more;
Older, more mature ones had lowered expectations,
And they were each as suitable as the other; practically exchangeable,
When it came right down to it.
They all had the same identical gear, between the legs.
And as he was good looking, he never had to ask twice.
Soon enough they had the reddened eyes, the perpetual frown
Well etched, on their sculpted, modular faces;
Grappling with his...
Always acquiring them rather easily;
Movie theater, skating rink; bar scene
The young and inexperienced seemed to suffer more;
Older, more mature ones had lowered expectations,
And they were each as suitable as the other; practically exchangeable,
When it came right down to it.
They all had the same identical gear, between the legs.
And as he was good looking, he never had to ask twice.
Soon enough they had the reddened eyes, the perpetual frown
Well etched, on their sculpted, modular faces;
Grappling with his...
759 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
27th Feb 2010 3:32am
27th Feb 2010 3:32am
and hunger shall know blood lust
and hunger shall know blood lust
like drunks on wine honey
which devour worlds of time
where love is another day
though some say luck
is a leap of man's fantasy
or a wild laugh churning
the ocean's warm waves
like drunks on wine honey
which devour worlds of time
where love is another day
though some say luck
is a leap of man's fantasy
or a wild laugh churning
the ocean's warm waves
707 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
27th Feb 2010 3:30am
27th Feb 2010 3:30am
I'm going to unplug you now
I've come to a decision:
I'm going to unplug you now;
It's useless; all these feeding tubes and wires,
They're feeding you blood, day and night-
What good is it all? You're totally dependent now,
You don't even have a life anymore.
Now take a deep breath, and say your prayers;
I give you absolution, for the many errors.
Now go find your own apartment and coffin,
The sun will be up in another eight hours-
And try not to trip, over any more mirrors.
I'm going to unplug you now;
It's useless; all these feeding tubes and wires,
They're feeding you blood, day and night-
What good is it all? You're totally dependent now,
You don't even have a life anymore.
Now take a deep breath, and say your prayers;
I give you absolution, for the many errors.
Now go find your own apartment and coffin,
The sun will be up in another eight hours-
And try not to trip, over any more mirrors.
652 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by heterodynemind
