Latest Posts by electrik0n - Page 3
and maybe one day i will wield the scythe
my poetry can resurrect demons
from the past, so let me swing
another sharp weapon and
name it poetry.
~K.T.
roles reversed, crumbling in dust enough to cave in the lungs of titans. don't force me to breathe anyway, it's pointless in the grand scheme of cigar marketing. all for standing outside and watching the rays of sun stretch their limbs and lie down for the evening but the true beauty comes when all the pawn shops facing east are religiously nocturnal.
a hopper of trains, we can be out of here, we can be slugs happily avoiding the minefield of saltshakers set up to watch us perish. a tale as old as grandfather's medals, tears stinging eyes, hometown roaches feasting on nuclear Thanksgiving; part the lips and caught the tongue trembling common knowledge. that the boxing gloves hooked on the wall have touched their fair share of tender cheeks and retiring will only cause the maroon to solidify.
nap away the wrongdoings of foreign-feeling nausea. spin the story like a top on the evening reporter's desk laden with load-bearing ash-pokes the size of his ideals surrendering to keyboard gestures of love and floundering reputation.
ON THE BRINK
Standing on the brink
A humble grail in hand
Contemplating that clink
According to thy command
Boisterous play, or high jinks
As the mist begins to clear
I await in the morning chill
The Passover of my fear
Oh! Silently, in the still
Whether far or near
©Johnny J P Lee
19 September 2024
A Gogyoshiren Poem (10)
Photos Credit J. P. Lee
(Man on a cliff, unknown source)
Imitate
You run
And I follow
But the chasing I do
Has left me hollow
It's really not urgent
You have all the time in the world
Your last seconds
Will be the eternity
Inside a nibless
Fountain pen
The fog creeps in,
thick like breath
on a window,
the hills fold
into themselves,
and I am
somewhere else
while the red bridge
cuts through the mist
like a wound
that has yet to heal
Carry On, Fair Fighter 🌷
Set fire to the acid rain Watch it burn, burn down See the sweet flames burn in the light Finally, I feel something Like the time I almost set a lighter to my own carpet We all lose yourselves sometimes Plug the holes with poetry Your leaky eyes with holy water Watch the flowers melt away It gonna-It's gonna be okay We pick yourselves up Journey on another day It's gonna- It's gonna be okay Lick the paint off your fingers Oil pastels all over your clothes You just murdered an emotion That's just how life goes In the words of my kindergarten teacher"Sometimes you just gotta go with the flow" If you were a salmon meant to fight it You would've been born with gills Now carry on, fair fighter We must get over this hump We must crest this hill
Mouth full of silver,
a waning cresent smile shines
in the ink of night.
I float above the debris
Freshly risen from the grave
Where moths gently flutter
And the worms quietly dance
At the rhythm of blue crotchets
Hanging from red green wing tips
Resting beyond the horizon
Where your brokenness waits
Behind a shattered mirror
you solar flare, enkindle all
lounging poolside plague the apartments nearby yeah, im on your back you're, easy to second god them assume i need your — i really need your — my theoretical models more shameful than Jane Birkin theses and ripped red camelias these are no times for innocent eyes, bordellos our overeducated elbows — passers-by pre-September matchsticks arrival of late — trains you've seen it all, all it seems you've, waved goodbye, if it's fantasy made of swallowtail sensation drunk on your humid breath, — chisel your truths out: of my Mongol hordes hands that warm-up Prajnaparamita Sutra three am — is never deceased, a mouth of Korean cabbage heatwave artform, and we can superglue like last two pages, silky moist after hurricane rains
always shut doors and open windows, why the chill breeze on my back - i can’t bear all this fresh opportunity streaming blue, screaming who are you to refuse a calling? consider this a push into further than can be seen, for cold feet and hot hands busy with potential, view so wide it can’t be contained by panes split straight and squared, lines drawn and crossed, your leaving a threshold like a question still standing and abandoned, another empty frame
The color of the wings is just perfect. It's so well done!
Fly, my broken wings
Distant, whispered ache.
An age between and high stakes.
Leap we didn't take.
Ephemeral blooms
Dress the portico pallid
Yesterday's resolve in soft translation,
Have I always dreamt of fervour
Have I always ached for more
I meet the teasing loss
From where it lingers,
Self evolved lament
It will often be a season
The curious untethered
Reaching out for loves return
I want to cry
for all my lives
I've missed to dive
beneath my
kisses not tried
moments unsmiled
tonight
I Gave a Spider Water
...
I held a snake.
I gave a spider water And I may have seen it wave;
I don't know if it was thanking me.
But I knew the snake was curious. Its skin felt cold on mine—
But the spider? I couldn't tell If it was thanking or
Warning me.
At least the snake Could show me its eyes.
The spider just waved and waved.
...
Andi Leigh 08/31/2024
I'm pretty sure it's like that when I send screens/talk about story/lore to my friends xd
How my Limbus posts probably sound to my non-Project Moon fan mutuals
Bleebus Blorbus the Flesh-Rending Giraffe is a metaphor for childhood neglect and toxic relationships, which is very fitting how its E.G.O. Skin-Eater went to Tom Sawyer. Skin-Eater Tom Sawyer synergizes really well with Ten-o-Clock Flash Mob Office Fixer Tom Identity for Bleed and Rupture damage and may also give her ties to The Hat Man in her upcoming Canto.
“I feel Tired and Lonely”
Everything sounds false and
Out of tune
I barely sleep anymore
And only with assistance
“I feel Tired and Lonely”
I really only had one person but that was enough
And now I live for myself
Cause I've got no one else
And I really just want to go home
To a place that no longer exists
Wonderful
“Wonderful” is how I’d like to respond
When someone asks about my day
But lately I've found there's nothing around
That appeals to my sense of play
I need something new to believe in
And I suppose it must be myself
There's nothing else to be done
And little more to say
But I've got to get out of the hole somehow
And I'm doing it starting today
Is it still manslaughter if you only manage to giggle during it?
I walked
into the wild
and the trees
welcomed me
with open
branches
and open
heart
Words all jammed together.
No room in your mouth
for all your heart's burdens,
they spill out. A red mess.
There is no vacancy in me,
empty as I am.
I have no price.
You can't stay.
Its alluring, alarming voice. Almost giving you no choice. Its breathtaking complexion. Adding you to its collection. Its taunting beauty and song. Which both bring you along. These factors, ending your fate. For they are purely used as bait. Beware of such creatures, sirens. They have hard intentions, like irons.
If You Give A Chicken Acid...
He’ll probably ask for a Xanax
a couple hours later
and tell you about a bad trip he had in ‘97
and you’ll nod along but you barely speak a bit of poultry.
If you give a chicken acid
he might want some nitrous
so you’ll have to find a balloon.
He might forget where he is and won’t go home for breakfast.
If you give a chicken acid
he’ll go up to all your friends
and ask for their phone numbers and home address.
And he’ll most definitely stay out too long on the dance floor.
If you give a chicken acid
he might tell you the truth about crossing the road
but then lie
about where you can find the bathrooms.
If you give a chicken acid
he’ll consider staying up with you to watch the sunrise
and maybe
he’ll give you a line or two.
If you give a chicken acid
you could wake up with a bad headache
and feathers in your hair
and not be able to drive home until the afternoon.
"Bound"
the kindness of monsters was never a lie but always served some other goals
this isn't abandonment.
I will go I will not be gone I will be where you are
object constancy
trust yourself trust me trust
That would be UNPRECEDENTED! You? Writing a thing? Never happened before.
What if I wrote a thing...?👀
You long so deeply, as if it alone could pull you, yet your will remains untouched, motionless. For desire stirs the mind, but only the will moves the body.
