Submissions by jswissman
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
"Everything happens for a reason."
Reasons are self-chosen fictions.
Existence does not conspire against or help us.
We are adrift as captains of our rudderless ships.
What have I to do with reasons?
Rather cast me in the preconceptual ocean of existence
That obliterates all categories, all reasons, all distinctions—
And let me call that home.
Existence does not conspire against or help us.
We are adrift as captains of our rudderless ships.
What have I to do with reasons?
Rather cast me in the preconceptual ocean of existence
That obliterates all categories, all reasons, all distinctions—
And let me call that home.
711 reads
3 Comments
When Death Pricked Me
As a child during my first fever did I weep
My first time between wakefulness and sleep
I saw the world but did not perceive myself
Unable to move my body or call for help
My identity was obliterated, my ego dissolved
My first experience of the abyss: completely engulfed
Death pricked me with his boney finger
And the feeling left me not but ever did linger
My first time between wakefulness and sleep
I saw the world but did not perceive myself
Unable to move my body or call for help
My identity was obliterated, my ego dissolved
My first experience of the abyss: completely engulfed
Death pricked me with his boney finger
And the feeling left me not but ever did linger
729 reads
6 Comments
The Absent Referent
We really have no idea
How powerful apathy is—
How cultivating the silence
Of the absent referent
To ease our consciences
In our lives of luxury
Murders the innocence
Of all our landscapes.
“Behind every meal of meat is an absence: the death of the animal whose place the meat takes. The ‘absent referent’ is that which separates the meat eater from the animal and the animal from the end product. The function of the absent referent is to keep our ‘meat’ separated from any idea that she or he was once an animal, to keep the ‘moo’ or ‘cluck’ or ‘baa’...
How powerful apathy is—
How cultivating the silence
Of the absent referent
To ease our consciences
In our lives of luxury
Murders the innocence
Of all our landscapes.
“Behind every meal of meat is an absence: the death of the animal whose place the meat takes. The ‘absent referent’ is that which separates the meat eater from the animal and the animal from the end product. The function of the absent referent is to keep our ‘meat’ separated from any idea that she or he was once an animal, to keep the ‘moo’ or ‘cluck’ or ‘baa’...
785 reads
8 Comments
Because Our Hearts Are Unfiltered
I share a soul with you
In your darkest place
With no hope
I am there
And you become my greatest source of light
And I yours
In your darkest place
With no hope
I am there
And you become my greatest source of light
And I yours
801 reads
11 Comments
Clouded Leopard
Paws pacing glass clear
Echo my frustrated waves
Free habitat gone
Echo my frustrated waves
Free habitat gone
671 reads
12 Comments
Gone Astray Angel
Gluttony-smeared lipstick
Applied in generous stokes
Across her face by the suit
Less than an hour before....
Glazed junkie eyes try to focus
On the glass frame reflection.
Slumping to her knees,
Can’t find her keys,
Not desperate, doesn’t care
About the danger behind her.
Her black silk bruised silhouette
Is pushed down by a sadistic shoe.
Thomas Jeffersons drift to the floor.
Clutching the green,
She hears the spit.
Disheveled,
She grabs her heels—to the next trick.
Applied in generous stokes
Across her face by the suit
Less than an hour before....
Glazed junkie eyes try to focus
On the glass frame reflection.
Slumping to her knees,
Can’t find her keys,
Not desperate, doesn’t care
About the danger behind her.
Her black silk bruised silhouette
Is pushed down by a sadistic shoe.
Thomas Jeffersons drift to the floor.
Clutching the green,
She hears the spit.
Disheveled,
She grabs her heels—to the next trick.
775 reads
10 Comments
Slipping Gears
I’m at war with myself,
And I always have been.
Sometimes there’s a truce,
But it always starts up again.
And I always have been.
Sometimes there’s a truce,
But it always starts up again.
763 reads
12 Comments
Sometimes
Sometimes I will act
Like I want to get away
From myself
And your touch will not be able to soothe me
But if you wait a little while
The greyness of my face will break into a smile
Like I want to get away
From myself
And your touch will not be able to soothe me
But if you wait a little while
The greyness of my face will break into a smile
815 reads
10 Comments
Severing my Heart from Itself
I told you before
I cannot save you.
I can offer my love,
Support and gratitude.
But I dream
I was smart enough
Or powerful enough
Or something enough to save you from yourself.
You are so beautiful
Through and through
Lovelier than the moon.
But you cannot see this truth.
Why can’t I peel back that thick layer of self-hatred
And slip a finger directly into your heart?
Why does everything in this world
Have to be so damn hard?
My wants and desires are impotent
In the face of so many painful...
I cannot save you.
I can offer my love,
Support and gratitude.
But I dream
I was smart enough
Or powerful enough
Or something enough to save you from yourself.
You are so beautiful
Through and through
Lovelier than the moon.
But you cannot see this truth.
Why can’t I peel back that thick layer of self-hatred
And slip a finger directly into your heart?
Why does everything in this world
Have to be so damn hard?
My wants and desires are impotent
In the face of so many painful...
723 reads
9 Comments
Our Last Conversation
I can’t remember what you said last night
I watched your lips while thinking silly thoughts
You were trying to make a serious point
And maybe noticed I wasn’t paying attention
Words on butterfly wings fluttered away
I watched your lips while thinking silly thoughts
You were trying to make a serious point
And maybe noticed I wasn’t paying attention
Words on butterfly wings fluttered away
1116 reads
8 Comments
untitled
let me stretch my limbs
and revel in sin
until I’ve drained the cup
and dried my lips
and revel in sin
until I’ve drained the cup
and dried my lips
619 reads
8 Comments
Threads and Rules
Listening to a song about threads,
Bedsides and wounds bleeding day and night—
Voice of an angel, purple and gold.
A Christmas carol?
Heartburn.
I’ve bad manners:
Incapable of being polite and insincere,
A defect I’m sure.
But I also pretend I don’t notice every lie.
“Drive asshole!”
I know I’m driving too slowly,
Following the rules too carefully.
But how can I say that?
I’m not even sure what the rules are.
Do I break them or apply them with a vengeance?
Bedsides and wounds bleeding day and night—
Voice of an angel, purple and gold.
A Christmas carol?
Heartburn.
I’ve bad manners:
Incapable of being polite and insincere,
A defect I’m sure.
But I also pretend I don’t notice every lie.
“Drive asshole!”
I know I’m driving too slowly,
Following the rules too carefully.
But how can I say that?
I’m not even sure what the rules are.
Do I break them or apply them with a vengeance?
685 reads
5 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by jswissman