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This is my favorite time of year
The one thing I live for
Is getting my annual invitation
Hand delivered at the door
It says "Dear Occupant"
or sometimes "your name here"
"We would like this chance to ask you"
"to see what's new this year"
"Please come to this year's Psychic Fair"
"We hope you will attend"
"Please RSVP by Tuesday"
"We'll see you soon...our friend!"
Dear occupant...how did they know
I'm unlisted in the book
My identity is secret
You can't find me if you look
I guess that's why they're psychics
They know exactly where I'm at
They know I'm waiting for my invite
They just KNOW....and that is that
Each year it's at the same place
Off the highway, past the mall
They always set up lots of tables
But, they never fill them all
This year's ad had promised
This year would be better than the last
So...I sent them back my rsvp
And I got it to them fast
I showed up in line on Friday
Not too early ....not too late
The fair began next morning
The ad said...doors open at eight
I sat outside and waited
Had my blanket, pillow too
I was there for oh....six hours
Before I saw occupant number two
"****" he said when he pulled in
"I was hoping to be first in line"
"Now, I'm gonna miss the real good stuff"
"I may as well have come at nine"
I sat there and ignored him
Knowing deep down that he was right
Then I settled down to sleep a bit
And help to pass the night
At seven ten I woke, all set
To get into the fair
I looked around and saw no one else
Just the two of us were there
I didn't mind, I thought...so what
I'm still the first one in
the others, just can eat my dust
Though the crowd, looked kind of thin
At eight o'clock the doors went click
The lock had been released
From somewhere in the building
By a switch inside the beast
We went inside and looked around
Two hundred tables on display
My heart was just on fire
This would be a special day
Tarot cards, divining rods
crystal ***** and magic wands
Harry Potter robes, more tarot cards
Crystal light strips for your ponds
Readings, Writings, images
Pictures written in the stars
They even had some dream catchers
You could hang up in your cars
I went up to the first booth
I met a psychic there named Joe
He asked me what I wanted
If he was real..then he would know
I saw comics, mind drinks
astrolgers, and saw lots of things to buy
But, every single psychic
Seemed a fraud to me...but why?
I picked up a blue crystal
Was told it would swing and show me things
It would help me to get centered
Good luck to me...it'd bring
I held it and I chanted
It just hung there on my chest
I said "This thing's not full of magic"
He said "It's just having a rest"
I tried again, with thirty more
they all just hung there like dead weight
He said "they all were swinging yesterday"
"give them time....just wait"
An hour passed, my neck gave out
They all fell to the floor
He said "don't leave..I've got a special one"
"Please try this one rock more"
I said that I would try it
But this one would be the last
I'd noticed more folks coming in
And a lot of time had passed
Again, it just ...well, hung there
Nothing happened...but just then
I sneezed and yes ...you guessed it
Nothing happened once again
I left and found a reader
One who said he'd tell me all
I just had to pay him twenty
He said the cards would make the call
A simple deck of tarot cards
All dented and all marked
Were laid out front before me
So in the seat I parked
He turned over the devil
Followed by the jester and the moon
I asked what these three cards meant
"He said, you might be dead by noon"
"or, they could mean something else"
"We'll let the cards decide
"they also might mean that you spent
Last night sleeping outside"
the next three cards turned over were
"A castle, queen and wreck"
He said that these tell me
"My kids have used my deck"
I left him there and moved along
I would give them one more chance
I tossed a coin to pick with who
I would dance the psychic dance
I made my choice and walked on to
A psychic known as Rosie
She was dressed in jeans, and tunic shirt
Just sitting kind of cozy
"I know just why you came to me"
she said as I sat down
"But, you don't have that much trust in me"
"You think I'm just a clown"
"Without belief the things I say"
"will not mean one **** thing"
"without belief you'll waste my time"
"and the knowledge that I bring"
I told her I would listen first
and make my mind up later
I liked the way she came across
I didn't want to hate her
She didn't ask to touch my hand
Didn't even ask my name
She said she picked up my vibrations
That way it wasn't just a game
She told me things I never knew
Some things I'd heard before
But when she told me about children
I then passed out and hit the floor
she told me I'd get married
that I was precise and very giving
She asked if I had teapots
in my house, where I was living
I told her yes I had some pots
and then I asked her why
She said each *** inside my house
Meant one child born for I
This is when I hit the floor
I got a bump that was quite large
I told her "I made tea pots"
"I have a kiln inside my garage"
I said "each *** is one new child"
she said yes that much is true
It was then that she passed out
I said my house held ninety two!!!
Talia Jul 2018
your feelings for me are twisted and unlisted
yet you're the person who keeps crossing my mind
I can't say that I never resisted
to keep our strings from being intertwined
but I know
the version of you that I knew so well
is no longer my precious freak show
you aren't my favorite thing for show-and-tell
anymore
Atypnoc Feb 2015
I'm just

I can't feel my lips
on my face
so still
i cant move them
on their own
i can't tell if they are parted
i can't tell if they exist
i can't feel my hips or
my feet, or my lefs
i can't move them
i can't feel them

i want to break
i want all of the confusion, the disconnectedness
i can cry

but i can't escape this
and i can't can't escape this
there is no break

a million scattered shattered steps
stood stunning
chameleon flattered

I can't move.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l6n_z-FdEkw&feature;=youtu.be
^unlisted
Fullfreddo Dec 2017
a human tool, a drawing pencil, shedding snakeskin cells as
lead from no. 2 pencil

am **** and blood, skin and hairless,
all-to-come-to-go,
return retuned, at their own chosen speed,
gen of regeneration of disrupted oils and heavenly blessings,
morning cracks and orifices, filling and emptying obediently,
to the tidings of the grieving gravity of my moon’s decisions
that govern the lunatic cycle

you may kiss me with all your heart unto a robust welcoming,
scorn with spittle and deem unfit,
I know the difference and it is inconsequential

see me as combustible or flat, airless and empty,
as a new or a two day old leaking birthday balloon, or a haiku
that makes the reader gasp for the reasoning for breathing

think of me as a meme who responds to the touch of
your nippled forefinger, but my powers are unlisted,
therefore unlimited

for I am neither cyber or cypher though aesthetically they
appear as parts of my humanity, a human machine
forever reprogramming to new stimuli sensating,
the temperature of your breath, the many odors of you
as inputs that bear newborn children notions in
my chested gas chambers, the belligerent bellum bellies of my brain

my digital describe in thousands of computers do hide,
but to comprehend the interacting calculations that are
my constancy and my inconsistencies, you must make a tour
if you are awake between midnight and dawn when from
wells the visions, the fluids - the words are drawn

they, the residuals of a man’s ******* with
other humans, kin akin, and the thriving discourse between l,
man and parental gods of invisible powers, that offers insanity
as a viable solution, to cracking the codex human DNA
in the vial labelled Medusa

Who else?
Who Else?
from Joseph Campbell...

“which has been registered in this myth, much as what Freud terms the latent content of a neurosis is registered in the manifest content of a dream: registered yet hidden, registered in the unconscious yet unknown or misconstrued by the conscious mind. And in every such screening myth–in every such mythology {that of the Bible being, as we have just seen, another of the kind}–there enters in an essential duplicity, the consequences of which cannot be disregarded or suppressed.".
Lee Feb 2013
I want to have someone
to write a love letter to.
Something sincere
and nostalgic.
Something bordering on already said
or cliche'.
I'll write one for you
any of you
anyone as lonely as I am.
This poetry all seems passive
and pleading.
I'll write one for you
one of you
just one as lonely as I am.
All my words beat around
and climb the shady subject
aimed deliberately
ambiguously
around its name.
Loneliness
and the want to find someone
anyone.

*I'll write one for you
one of you
one of you who needs connection
as bad as I do.
Marty T Ottman Dec 2016
Man I think I've seen enough of staring death in the eyes, cause couldn't disguise or even come to terms to emphasize  what was before my eyes, I've uncover the lies, made a paved pathway for the condemned to walk upon.
Depraved to stand aside, when we confide what left of us, words of this sort..to some wont comprehend.
unlisted.  Missed it.    Before your eyes.
          Harmonize the thought                           To later dismiss it.
     But we all know I'll reminisce it later.
To my twin, or wrath.
No difference of how thick the blood runs if my math is right I step foot right into your path.
Lists of endless lists listed

Lists of listed horrizonal lines

Lines of horrezonal listed lists

Laid out lines of lists, row after row

Lines, lines, lines, lines, lines

Lists of lists, of lists of lists listed

Lists of lists not yet listed in lines

Listed not yet lines of lists listed

Lines, lines, lines, lines, lines, lines

Lines waiting to be listed in lines of lists

List this list, it hasn’t been listed in

Lists of lines unlisted, hold on I’ll make a

List
Chuck May 2013
He's a knife with no bullets.

But I do know what time it was.

I write like a bull in a Chinese Restaurant.

When in doubt, look up.

Ramblings of a crazy man seem insane.

I'm lost but I'm not unlisted.

Why aren't cell phones permitted in jail cells?

If one looses his mind, does he find his keys?

Why are you reading this song?

If rabbits multiply, do cats taste good with pickles?

If this doesn't make sense, does it make change?

If the glass is half empty, who drank my beer?

If language is fun, explain French class.

If a dog is man's best friend, why can't he buy me a gift?

If I'm having a stroke, should I go swimming?

If I have a heart attack, should I fight back?

If two heads are better than one, why doesn't anyone want two heads?

If love feels like a punch in the gut, I'll ouch you lovingly
Just having fun. I'm not drinking. If you didn't enjoy this, why did you read it? I really had fun writing this. If I wasn't tired, I could go on forever with this nonsense!
Lauren Marie Oct 2013
I let you into a very exposing and vulnerable side of my life.
I am very fragile and sensitive.
The more you claim I am perfect, the less real I feel.
The less human I feel.

Perfect is not real.
Perfection is a perception.
I don’t want to be labeled as anything that is not me.

I don’t like it.
I will not allow it.
I’d rather choke than swallow
Those thick sticky words.
For once I’m happy to be
A picky eater.

I am not a body.
I am a soul.
Words I have said before,
But now found myself shouting
Loud enough to have you back away
Far enough to collect some space.

Your thoughts about me
Are not reality, just a fabricated fantasy
Created in your head.
I am not a made up character
Or this fleeting entity, like a fairy;
I don’t need claps to exist in this world.
I don’t need your beliefs for me live.

My skin has been hurt again and again.
Through my experiences,
My layers have thickened
Now calloused, and stiff
Which is why I’m self-conscious
Of holding hands.
And you’re not the man
Whose fingers I want to be laced with
Or tracing the tracks of my spine.

I am a hand written letter.
Never delivered
With an unlisted address
And words still unfinished.
Save your kiss, lips, and spit
For a different envelope
Don’t spend your pennies
Or waste your postage
On the mail that will come back to you.

I am free.
I am air.
Limitless, boundless, and ubiquitous.
Toxic if overdosed.

I change, never staying the same.
I circulate the room, and cannot be contained.
And **** the day you dare even try.

Watch me overflow, and spill all over the floor
Creating a sloppy mopless mess
Oozing through the edges
Seeping between the cracks.

I will not be held down
Wings clipped
And cage nailed to the ground.
I will not be suffocated.

I am air.
Yet, I cannot breathe.

— The End —