deepundergroundpoetry.com
IDK
I don't know anymore
The looked for words
Not found, escaped
Flown somehow
Perhaps like you
Strangers when we meet
Who know each other intimately
Each dreaming lover's dreams
Perhaps like me
On guard, shields up
Who no longer knows you n me
That unraveled spool of things
We once kept tight
Words don't know how to write
Constellationless night
Lost silhouettes dancing in the dark
Seems touch is the missing part
There's no grit, no growl
No spark to flame when words ignite
No fuel, no flame, no now
Everything locked down right
But not quite somehow
***
I've been in love with dreams
Demons, ghosts, and feelings
But angels never fell this far
I long to write I love you 'long the arch of your neck
That razor blade that makes me bleed
And makes you squirm
Bruising purple on the morrow
You make me forget my fear of fire
Tho' I've been burned before
And smell like char
I don't need no candlelight
With my cigarettes and beer
Words flow
You're on a roll
Some random meaningless staccato
Odd bits breaking off and landing on the coffee table
In the ash tray
Among the beer cans on my motorcycle magazines
A litter of consonants and vowels
Just urban art and graffiti vomit
Strewn like a monochromatic Jackson Pollack smash up
With Banksy
While I just stare at your tits
Have you ever thought of a grudge f*ck as romantic
I've had a helluva day
And I can't wrap my head around
A single thing you say
[Sometimes
Cigarette smoke is zen
When sound shuts down
And you become one with nothing]
I don't live in a civilized world
You're in love with a veneer
A lotta the damn time there's a war going on
When I say I'm alright
Someone called a play
An audible
A misdirection
And I lost my way
Because I believed in more than I could see
You know
I can't see it any more
Can't live my life by a template
Dreaming cookie cutter dreams
Idk if I'm leaving
Your leaving
We're leaving
Rolling Bonnie and Clyde
No foreplay or after glow
Just love me raw
Primal
Rage me
Bite, claw, scream
Draw blood
Take what you need
Cuz I'll ravage your ass
Is it love
Sometimes
Sometimes
Love's war
Fight with me
Fight for me
To hell with tomorrow
The looked for words
Not found, escaped
Flown somehow
Perhaps like you
Strangers when we meet
Who know each other intimately
Each dreaming lover's dreams
Perhaps like me
On guard, shields up
Who no longer knows you n me
That unraveled spool of things
We once kept tight
Words don't know how to write
Constellationless night
Lost silhouettes dancing in the dark
Seems touch is the missing part
There's no grit, no growl
No spark to flame when words ignite
No fuel, no flame, no now
Everything locked down right
But not quite somehow
***
I've been in love with dreams
Demons, ghosts, and feelings
But angels never fell this far
I long to write I love you 'long the arch of your neck
That razor blade that makes me bleed
And makes you squirm
Bruising purple on the morrow
You make me forget my fear of fire
Tho' I've been burned before
And smell like char
I don't need no candlelight
With my cigarettes and beer
Words flow
You're on a roll
Some random meaningless staccato
Odd bits breaking off and landing on the coffee table
In the ash tray
Among the beer cans on my motorcycle magazines
A litter of consonants and vowels
Just urban art and graffiti vomit
Strewn like a monochromatic Jackson Pollack smash up
With Banksy
While I just stare at your tits
Have you ever thought of a grudge f*ck as romantic
I've had a helluva day
And I can't wrap my head around
A single thing you say
[Sometimes
Cigarette smoke is zen
When sound shuts down
And you become one with nothing]
I don't live in a civilized world
You're in love with a veneer
A lotta the damn time there's a war going on
When I say I'm alright
Someone called a play
An audible
A misdirection
And I lost my way
Because I believed in more than I could see
You know
I can't see it any more
Can't live my life by a template
Dreaming cookie cutter dreams
Idk if I'm leaving
Your leaving
We're leaving
Rolling Bonnie and Clyde
No foreplay or after glow
Just love me raw
Primal
Rage me
Bite, claw, scream
Draw blood
Take what you need
Cuz I'll ravage your ass
Is it love
Sometimes
Sometimes
Love's war
Fight with me
Fight for me
To hell with tomorrow
Published 8th May 2024
Author's Note
An anti-romantic write. Found some words but I'm in a mood. Take it or leave it, least its not a repeat. Stream of conciousness word vomit. Whatever.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 4
reading list entries 2
comments 6
reads 192
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
8th May 2024 2:06am
HOLY FUCKING FUCK YES. AJ?! Where the literal fuck you been hiding this magnificent fuck of a narrator?! Let this beastie OUT!
Your intro, the fucking apathy was amazing.
The foreshadowing had me sit up because you gave up that this was about to get fucked.
"There's no grit, no growl
No spark to flame when words ignite
No fuel, no flame, no now"
You gave every bit of that.
I fucking cheered -- scared my cat -- when you got to the razor blade. The minute you cut deep, let out the pus and just fucked up the page was art.
This is good:
"I've been in love with dreams
Demons, ghosts, and feelings"
(haven't we all)
But this?! THIS IS A CHEF'S FUCKING KISS:
I long to write I love you 'long the arch of your neck
That razor blade that makes me bleed
And makes you squirm
Bruising purple on the morrow
The inner need to enter a body, to cut open, to have. The concept of a blade has always been psychosexual, and this use is superb.
You mixed it with a fire conceit next, and I dug it.
but then you took off on a SOC flow that was like surfing a wave in a hurricane:
FUCK YES! THIS! MORE!
Words flow
You're on a roll
Some random meaningless staccato
Odd bits breaking off and landing on the coffee table
In the ash tray
Among the beer cans on my motorcycle magazines
A litter of consonants and vowels
Just urban art and graffiti vomit
Strewn like a monochromatic Jackson Pollack smash up
With Banksy
While I just stare at your tits
The juxtaposition of street art (Banksy) and the splatter shit Pollock does with just looking at tits. There's something both admiring and base as hell here. So fucking dangerous. It's rage in the apathy. The urban graffiti. The shit pile around you pretending to be art. Oh, god that's good shit.
This line? This line should be a postcard. We should all stop and go fuck in the dark to Heart Shaped Box right now.
"Have you ever thought of a grudge f*ck as romantic"
The end call to action, looping back to the beginning complaint "there's no fight" to "fight for me"
This was glorious.
I like your romantic side, but I'd totally look at your butt in this inner word-barf bad-boy mastery shit. (I mean that in the most platonic of ways. I'm just a pervert and I like to look.)
A couple typos:
Your = you're
silhouttes = silhouettes
8th May 2024 3:03am
Well, only two typos [changed] in a stream of consciousness scribble ain't too bad for a boy who doesn't even use punctuation! (Let's hope no one saw me slip you $20 for the review.) Jk.
I'm honored and a bit overwhelmed by the praise. I can play with words a bit but don't have your gift for grit. Nice to know I found your literary sweet spot.
And yes, you can totally look at my butt in this inner word-barf bad-boy mastery shit. Platonically, of course. And I'll just stare at your tits, because I'm just a guy, a jerk, and a pervert...and I like to look - platonically, of course.
You're too much fun. I can only imagine how you'd be if you weren't so introverted.
I'm honored and a bit overwhelmed by the praise. I can play with words a bit but don't have your gift for grit. Nice to know I found your literary sweet spot.
And yes, you can totally look at my butt in this inner word-barf bad-boy mastery shit. Platonically, of course. And I'll just stare at your tits, because I'm just a guy, a jerk, and a pervert...and I like to look - platonically, of course.
You're too much fun. I can only imagine how you'd be if you weren't so introverted.
Bitch, it was $40. The hell, man?!
Neat! I'm half jerk myself, because everyone loves tits. So that's fair. Look away! Platonically.
Yeah, I know. But it's only right that I'm an introvert.
On that note, get your shit. We're going to the Waffle House. I'll bet you I can get the entire kitchen staff to sing Sweet Caroline with me. Loser has to snort a mustard packet. Then we can listen to Foo Fighters and you can write angsty shit on the greasy menus.
Neat! I'm half jerk myself, because everyone loves tits. So that's fair. Look away! Platonically.
Yeah, I know. But it's only right that I'm an introvert.
On that note, get your shit. We're going to the Waffle House. I'll bet you I can get the entire kitchen staff to sing Sweet Caroline with me. Loser has to snort a mustard packet. Then we can listen to Foo Fighters and you can write angsty shit on the greasy menus.
9th May 2024 00:15am
Line me up some grits & cheese, gravy biscuits, "scattered, smothered, and covered" with sausage and a half a dozen scrambled eggs and I won't care what you sing 😁
16th May 2024 10:28pm
16th May 2024 10:41pm
Lol, Betty's comments were worth the read if off the mark. The poem was on the mark but perhaps not worth the read. Some days be that way.
