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Guden Oct 2017
A knock on my door
Tells me I'm not dead,
I've been hours laying on this couch
Watching the curtain going back and forth,
I thought I was dead,
Unconscious,
Waiting.
I get up as quickly as I can towards the door,
It takes me a minute
To travel the infinite space
That separates me from it,
From you.
One minute or one week,
I've been dead for so long
That time in itself is not.
I open the door and it's you,
Of course,
With your killer smile,
Your intelligent look.
And you come in without saying a word,
Without taking your eyes from mine.
You sit in that couch
Where I was dead
A minute ago,
An hour, a month.
I sit next to you,
Nervous,
Only you have that power
Over my nerves.
You talk to me,
You tell me your story,
I can't stop looking at those eyes,
I listen, wanting to kiss you,
And I do, but you don't respond to my kiss,
You act annoyed?
Amused?
Mysterious.
You keep talking
As if that kiss had never happened,
I look at you, I think I've died again,
I'm more nervous than before,
I want you gone,
But I'll follow you anywhere.
You talk about the men who love you,
A bunch of nervous fellas,
They worship you,
So do I.
You keep talking,
I can see in your eyes that you want me,
I don't trust those eyes,
I don't trust myself when you're around.
I come near and whisper two words in your ear,
Get out.
sophia sacal Oct 2017
Somewhere in the reign of sleep
Lie the remains of broken verses,
The skeletons of unfinished poems
And the ashes of incomplete sentences,
Destined to be forever forgotten,
Swallowed up by the unconscious mind
And left to rot without a second thought.

How strange, to think that our minds are nothing but thought graveyards...
Art Sep 2017
Consciously unconscious.
Thinking about everything.
Thinking about nothing.
Experimenting with shorter poems.
Do not be disturbed
If I lack the ability
To sugar-coat
The beautifully human
The tragically human
Or
If I refuse to try rewrite
The book of life

Do not be disturbed
By us
Mad mischief-makers
Us
Multi colored misfits
Who wander the market place
All dressed up
With nowhere to go
But here

Do not be disturbed
By us frenetically tainted
Us
Silly sprouted beings
Who speed the highways
On a wild goose chase
To wherever


Dearest do not be disturbed
If I regurgitate
Some heavenly-scented hairball
From some holy rap sheet
From some wasted wobbling wino
Do not be disturbed
If I smell a rat and show my teeth

Do not be disturbed
By the impending days ahead
When some grizzly goon
Some long-clawed nimbat
Some long-forgotten ghost
Coughs  up and spits in your face

Of course be disturbed if you must
But the days are short and the hour is nigh
The time for braggards and barbies
Monsters and missionaries
For mystery and myth
Will soon quietly pass away
And you wont be able
To hear a pin drop
Dearest
Do not be disturbed.
The futility of judgement, the unabashed nature of the joker who holds up a mirror .Written around Halloween when it's kosher to display our alter-egos and or disowned parts . The weight of putting up false fronts and then being confronted with the emotional ghosts and goons that hide in the unconscious. Finding my truth within the mayhem
Joan Marie Jun 2017
as quickly as I lay on my cradle to sleep that night,
the dark bit my head as I turn off the light
my sheets start to fold in, pulling me into a wrap
bringing me to a place between the real and the unreal, a gap

my eyes closed, my conscious asleep
my mind opened, my thoughts start to creep
dancing in pandemonium in the corners of my brain
psyched! I think I might be awake in my dream

extraordinary things I see after the passing of a bright gleam
rainbow behind clouds, magical creatures, and unusual things flee
a girl runs freely then fumbles along with her dress longer than it should be
psyched! this girl must be me!

a strange woman suddenly appears, helps her up and gives her a look
she smiles at her and gives her a kiss on her forehead
my conscious falls out of my sheets, my eyes snap open
again, this woman visits me in my dream
I wonder if she could be that special someone taking a peep
her image suddenly passes my sight
I know the stars could be holding her tonight
A poem I wrote in 9th grade. I think it would be fitting to preserve it in this site.
there's a hidden, empty place
between the conscious and unconscious mind,
it's a wallowing feeling -
a standstill, a little uphill
looking down on yourself
realizing the battle is nearly over,
ready for change
and you say
take me to be whole, entirely me
enlighten me
John Benjamin Apr 2017
Words fail.
A happening ceases to be happening
and just is.

As if subconsciously,
deliberation becomes the same as breathing
blinking, equilibrium, panic,
and then all at once,

Love

All become impetuous.

Turn into some twist of fate,
or some happenstance;
it doesn't matter which.
All that matters is the pulsing dilation of the skin over her veins.
The crashing, writhing, weaving, turning, twisting waves of her body mirroring mine and vice versa.
I am just here; present.
Face flush to downy hair while wandering in some chaotic void of uncertainty and doubt and violent turbulence.

Words become meaningless.

All hope of understanding this fleshy, helter-skelter concept of
A sinuous 'élan vital' to 'inevitable ceasing death'
All hope of understanding fails.

But I will forever be in this calm of the storm.
Witnessing this pastel scene behind your eyes.
Through the nihilism and anarchy
I feel I am right where I need
And that is all that needs be.
Kenji King Feb 2017
My thoughts are dazed…
Claustrophobic and hazed.
I’m exhausted and unamazed,
Fatigueness of some kind, low from the natural high.
Thoughts in my mind are delusive and unkind.
Dizzy and feeling quite fizzy
Not in the mood for studying, excitement, and fun.
Sitting by my lonesome self just writing what I can process.
Head feels heavy, got me feeling a bit queasy
Uneasy
Zoned out and lost in my thoughts
Sun is out and the wind is harsh…
It’s skin prickling and dissatisfying.
My exhaustion is sickening.
Absolute death and no reason
No fret
But anguished in my enclosed mind
But no threat…

System overkill
Discredit and disregard
Explain but disagree and make it hard
Exhalation and permutation
Loss of existence and clouded perception

Obsessive minds and sniffed up lines
Excessive amounts and numbers you cannot even count.
Broken, ripped, torn, and outwardly worn.
A lost ghoul, selfish, and for more you mourn.
Poor and dead, not yourself, completely blacked out and unconscious in bed.

Overdosed on the ******’ pills, suicide attempts never work…
Let the meds pour…
Gone, so gone…
Just let the meds pour...
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