on this october night, while i ponder on the crisp toilet seat
and feel my body shiver from the awful lack of heat,
one single ****, compact and long, from my ******* falls,
and into then rank toilet water it splooshes and splashes.
on the porcelain i clench my feet and moan, it echoes through the halls,
my *******, it burns! (lo, how it burns!) as if a ***** went in full with scratches.
how i pray to God Almighty, "forgive me Lord for I have sinned",
in this ****** place i sit aroused and weary, The light is dimmed,
from the corner of my eye, my end nigh: i sigh, Lord. i sigh!
the toilet paper is gone, i cannot handle the vapor (nor my **** gaper).

Fireworks thunder like
Stars long gone,
And I’d remembered
Something Grandpa once said –

“The world’s a wonder,
But home will always be
Home.”

And the fireworks still thunder,
But I’m the star long gone,
As I’d remembered
Something my son once said –

Innocent and earlier mirror’d,
His eyes were all that’d speak,
“Please.”

So now, I knock, atop the “thunder”
Calloused oak ‘fore, “father,”
As I discover, come echo’d only answer –

Whispers brought the cold, and the scent
Orchids wrought, “tell him to hurry;”
Once and an only gasp I’d hear too late.

I wish I could write as mysterious as a cat.

Normality cursed me upon open eyes,
I enjoyed the lucid madness, as what
Was seen in the maddening times that
Was better to the normality of  boring now.

I used to chase the florescent thoughts
That floated around, giggling at the touch
As it tickled senses in my deepest doors.
She danced with me in imaginary dance.

I was like a bunny jumping, swaying around
Giggling to ones self for invisible feet would
I be standing upon, never realizing I was tripping
Over my own size tens, what a humours trip.

Madness is an inviting friend, alone, but so many
Voices around madness has its purpose, as I have
Thoughts not my own, I laugh, at incoherent  moments
Are they mine, there's, or yours never alone.

Fell heal over heads
          in love with a poet,
  he's mostly a rhyme schemer
       likes Poe and his dark Raven,
  in actuality,  I'd fancy him more if
    he were like Pablo Neruda, but I digress
I'm much accurately fashioned after Emily Dickinson
        chasing heaven's June bugs toing and froing,
we'd meet at a perfectly superfluous coffee shop
    he'll be murmuring elegiac pentameter
I'm simply looking to devour precious words,
    we'd argue about abstract destinations,  
            straight forward persuasions and
               premonitions of wayward ink allusions,
some days I want to claw mine own eyes out
               amid all that nonsensical alliteration
  others, I want to rip out embellishments
                   of his black heart's magnification,
he mutters tumult under his breath,
     states he's abundantly sickly tired of all my
         fanatical froufroutant  flourished fantasies,
albeit, we're mild mannered artistes
         of overstatement and simplification
               thus, we continue laying it on thickly
I, with my hyperbolic cuppa tea and honey,
       he's all brass tacks, no nonsense black coffee
ultimately, we reservedly seek gratification,
      envisioning who functionally makes it first
to a finished line of manifestations's publication,
           in eternity's poetic intentions and beyond

hey so I make videos, and look, you all are smart people so who else should try and make a video for this and maybe win $1500! so I am going to do it, you should to, and if you're a finalist you get 200$ they care more bout the audio. visual is not as important, but I feel all poets should be available to this challenge! again AUDIO IS KEY! read the rules! I am planning on entering so even if you're not going to enter, please comment and give me some ideas bc I got equipment (cameras, mics, video crap) and days to film, and it's a class project/ final for me, and I GOT TO PICK IT, I sometimes like my film class x.x but link below!

https://www.projected.com/contests/77-a-song-for-annabel-lee

Naw motha fkka I
Ain't hot ****
Ain't pompous
Knock nitty gritty
With ****** up kids
I got uh
E mergency
Kit put together
With pipe and tape
From the basement
You need gum
Paperclips
Got a leak
Motha fkkn leaking
Unstable, collect
N assemble new
You wit half ya
Bodyweight in staples
BMI justified
With baggage n
Fix its
It's only a problem
When ya round
Motha fkka I
Ain't hot ****
But I'm one
Of the most torn
Up turned up
******* in the pound
Bombastic sensations
Comin from all sides
A ******
No hater
Trouble you
Trouble me
What's it gonna be?
Depends on your visage
****, I could turn it off
N I do do on occasion
If ya kickin without
The free body vibes
I visit, permission
Can't be a thing
I do wut I want when
I do cause I trust me
You r basic n
Chastened n rope
N chains to the brain
Stuck on level
Seth ***** said
In time you lay stone
Work hurt sometimes
You must crumble
Breakin down
The mortar with
Nightshade in
Spray as pesticide
For the vines tangling
Strangling your
Home, it's unknown
If I gonna grow in
The right way but
I trust me so if
I'm so grown I outgrow
Then I gotta go
No hate

The Eturi
Part 1 - Genesis


I shall tell you of the first Eturi.
I shall tell you how the seas did not want them--
Coughing them up on the shore
Like water from the lungs of a drowning man.


They were unseemly things.
Arms stretched sinewy from their sockets
Fingers tipped with bulbs
And dripping a sticky mucus
Tearing flesh off prey caught in their hands
On teeth with edges like sawed-off metal.


Their stomachs--
A swollen gelatinous sack of a belly
Mottled with spots and partially translucent
Allowed for an uninhibited view onto the trophy of their latest meal
As it slowly digests.


The Eturi were humanoid only by their incipience
To foul the word--
Human.


The land was bare rock and mud then.
The Eturi were kings
Nothing lived that could challenge their predominance
For nothing lived,
There were yet no plants or other animals
Nothing to eat.


On all fours, they scrabbled the earth for food
Stiff-arming on knuckles
And the tippy toes of their feet
Lip-******* the dirt
Pumping their bellies full of mud and sand
Licking the rocks and chewing clay--
Always hungry
Scouring from beach--to desert--to canyon--to cracked earth--to volcano
Anything to eat.


Until starving, their belly made its final demand--
They must feed.


The first to fall to hunger was unexpected.
A look
From one Eturi upon another
A look that may have been casual or even sincere
Suddenly took on a thoughtful gaze
Then a deliberate stare.


Soon a second Eturi took up that gaze
Then a third,
No words passed between them
Their eyes were like the baying of hounds
Calling the others to them
Swelling into a pack
Drinking the scent of their gaze--
Silent
Coiling
Hunger so close to the surface
The air was almost chewy.


When the other Eturi turned
And saw their eyes upon him
The eyes of his brothers and sisters
The look in their eyes,
He could barely register protest
Before they were on him--
Ripping flesh from muscle
Muscle from bone
Bones snapped to **** out the marrow.
The Eturi was eaten
Before he died.


Survival did not go to the biggest and strongest
For they had the most to eat.
No, survival went to the scrawniest
The smelliest
The most deformed
Those with unappealing prickles of hair
For they were the most unsavory.


And out of this interspecial gorging
Bred a trait
That would become their greatest and most lasting legacy--
Cunning.


For what mattered resourcefulness
Self-preservation
Or strength of the will to live,
If you could predict the hunger in others
And twist them to your own?


It was said that the Land was so moved
Upon seeing the Eturi,
That taking the earth in her hands
She tore open her own breast
And drew forth life
In plants and grasses and fruit and trees and rich vegetation
And to lure other animals--
That anything
The Eturi may feed on anything
Anything but themselves.


But so the Eturi were
So when the Land gave up its last blossom
So would the Eturi always be.