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RW Dennen Sep 2014
White as winter skin,
expressionless faces z i p on by,
looking straight ahead

Timepieces remembered,
drudgery over leisure time
All in cadence, same beat, same drummer

Putting on Mona Lisa smiles
and handing out business cards
Numbers dominate words,
words mesh with numbers

Fast food, fast digestive systems
join Popeye's Whimpey ranks
Plop Plop, fizz fizz
Companies, corporations, amalgamations
merge then COLLIDE!!!
Akemi Apr 2016
Someone told me talking to women was completely different from talking to men
Familial desire circumventing physical rationality
I don't ******* get it
Flesh is flesh
There is no separation between this body and the next
No delineation save for my own arbitrary ones
This world is chaos bound by imposition
And none of it is real
I'm not even going to say middle class conceptions of family are constructs
Everything is a construct
Knowledge is anthropic chaos
Don't pretend you can tell the difference between essential existence and our subjective reordering of boundless matter
A gap does not form between a molecule of air and a molecule of flesh
I am trapped in my own sensations but I am not defined by them
So back to the story of material existence reduced to reproductive imperative
Treating all of the other *** as a means to displace one's self beyond annihilation into temporal infinity
Who ******* cares?
Legacy does not carry on after death
Legacy does not even carry through life
Language breaks down the moment we open our mouths
No one will ever view your life the way you view it
Splashing through a pool, ripples morph all reflections into monstrous amalgamations
Hey, tell me
Do you even remember yourself that clearly?
Hollow triumph, grandfather's bones in a grandfather clock ticking past twelve
Sorry, I just don't see the allure of treating half the human race as a means to satiate your own lust whether physical or genealogical
Or even categorising humans into binary dualisms that bored philosophers a century ago
Haven't you heard? God is dead
And there is no meaning to your boring male existence
3:52pm, April 10th 2016

Everyone is so ******* boring.
Trapped in traditions we dismantled two hundred years ago.
This heteronormative, andro-, euro-centric nothing view of ****, work, death. Blah ******* blah.
Stop imposing your sterile, bland patriarchal reactionist views on every ******* woman in existence.
Jesus ****.
I just don't.
I just ******* don't anything.
I just don't anything ******* just anything don't Jesus don't I anything
no no no no No no No no
stop stop stop stop stop stop stop
man wife man wife child man wife
playing in the garden, whee i'm an airplane, not aeroplane who the hell spells it aeroplane who even came up with that dad
well son, language is arguably an intersubjective field of interpreting the world into our subjective consciousness, with no core, filled with arbitrary signifiers to arbitrary signified concepts
but daddy, if everything is pointing to a concept, where does the real object come into--
shut your face timmy and go help your mother cook, until you reach the age of 16 when you must denounce all you learnt from your mother and become a real man who doesn't cook, and just lounges around and thinks 'golly, i sure wish i could be like my dad and wear a suit and lose all sense of self to the capitalist self-annihilating death machine of corporate hegemony'
yaaaaaaaaaaaaaay
Pearson Bolt Dec 2016
we are not
who we are
at our best
anymore
than we are
the sum
of our worst
aspects.
we are
what we pretend to be:
misanthropes
possessed of empathy.
walking paradoxes.
amalgamations.
spectrums
in multicolor.
Mackenzie Leigh Oct 2011
Oh, happiness, you know, is such a mystery to me
For my sweet mind, so nubile, now tempted and teased
In daisy chains constrained, becomes unflaggingly naïve
Amidst hopeless, hungry caricatures of a fresh, degenerate breed---
It is these sad amalgamations of cynicism and greed
That beg so caustically for my poor pauper’s decree
Wholly, humbly, in morally hazardous beseech
Reminding me that I will never be exempt from this disease

Because a bird that has for all its life been caged
Would know not, in freedom’s grasp, just how it should behave
And I imagine, most ignorantly, would haplessly spend its days
Flying in circles above the cold cell in which it was once contained
For it is the fear within that forbids us from ever wandering astray
Not, as we convince ourselves, those despicably tangible restraints
But the prejudices and prospects upon which we were raised
The unforgiving pathways of a pre-determined fate

Well, I’d rather die simply, dreaming wistfully instead
Because even the corporeal hand of freedom is ghostly akin to lead
The poison in my veins that leaves me ****** and unfed
It can scarcely compare to the beauty I’ve concocted in my head
And ‘fate,’ I admit, is something that I’ve come to quite dread
To think my end is not my own makes me wish that I was dead
To be voiceless and choiceless and paralyzed in my bed
A story that was written and never to be read

My existence will never course on a single, narrow line
And there will be many, many beds in which my loyalties lie
The destination may well be as crooked as the path the arrow flies
And for all of this uncertainty, I most assuredly will be fine
Because mark my words; let doubt not linger in mind
These cages and these pages will be now and forever mine
Just an arbitrary reaction to the hand-me-down destiny I’ve defied
The parameters I have made to covet all the corners of my life
Apachi Ram Fatal Jun 2016
Times like this I hate
keeping my feeling
secrets I know them

forbidden angel Falls
in love with humans
My Halo glows Stronger  

brighter faster than unique
amalgamations grow
supreme I feel the

forgetful mind
suspicion and give
way to a gentle

tug of supernatural
Kinetic G-Oddly
Miracle Energy
Rapture
God Loving Humanity
vamsi sai mohan Sep 2014
I thought I am the man with epicurean  appetite,
But it seems verily wrong as I realized the life around me is lingering on me with insatiable appetite,
Consuming my life nibblingly every moment,
Time is taking away my life with it's ubiquitous presence,
Water is leaking my life with every gulp,
Every breath I drew,it is drawing me thither where I evaporate myself,
With Every foot I feet on the earth,
the land is feeding on me as a friction and motion,
Planet is ******* my energy to spin around,
Space is trying to include me from my secluded life,
Life is taking away my life with every sentient moment,
I am walking every moment towards grave,
I am neither manufacturer nor destroyer,
So let me give away this life gracefully,blissfully,rather sinking hurtlingly in the Schadenfreude, melancholy and other non-sensical amalgamations,
Do I want to add some meaning to this meaningless life...
Or let it float in the thoughtless aura,
which is a conduit to the rendezvous with the creation,
Because that is where it is lying the lilting immortality I had not seen..
With the rapacious reverence to the nature...
PJ Poesy Apr 2016
Allowance of difference transforms not entirety, but perhaps enough. We are cast all over the place. By chance some grow. Seeds of diversity bloom without genetic precursors. Hybrid’s forerunning amalgamations were somewhere in time not as pure. Half-bred mongrel dogs the same. Romulus and Remus suckle a wolf-***** surrogate. Even after hardships and trials together, turn on each other. Conditioning may not change what is inheriting, but has its influences. Feral children of ancient mythography become heroes of a Rome, who has since seen rise to popes. What injects change into society? Today’s biotechnology gives birth to genetically engineered seed of change. Who bows to New God, by its name Monsanto? Collectively, third-world nations in a final Round-Up. Extermination business as usual.
PJ Poesy Jun 2016
Forged through amalgamations of bravery, deepest indifferance and hunger, fluster formed a solid ingot of unimaginable tensile strength. Bought and chewed what she was fed, "Oh to be wed." She would have it melted in her mind, as if drilled through skull, and smoldered into a pithy membrane. This vow, this marriage, this perfunctory cause and reaction would be solid fortune of her life. As if what her mother, father, church and giddy peers always spoke was lost wax fulminating from her ears. Topped with encrustation, a sparkly rock, salt of some miner's sweat, this platinum bond formed and molded was then clamped on her finger. As we of confused instincts know ourselves, she came from a far worse place. This all the reasoning there need be, for institution. Most of her life, she would not miss that lost pithy wax, that mind of her own. For this was the method called "sacrament" and this was her sacrifice.
Rohan P Jan 2018
you contour
into imaginations and fold (like spring
creasing)

swimming through the
amalgamations and
smiling (like summer
ceasing)

wandering the paths of
lilac, lily layering—
a feeling (like winter
releasing).
I am more than the sum of my pain
More than the lessons of my mistakes
I am an amalgamations of inspirations both within and without
An unbroken Theseus ship, all parts replaced, yet a whole nonetheless

Songs on my playlist carries echoes of my friends
A recommendation where every time I play them, I remember
I remember that once we crossed paths and you left a piece of yours behind
Now it's mine truly, and I thank you for providing such things of wonder

I am a reader first and foremost, a definition of what I am
Stories have molded me, each page a speck of my soul
From religious texts, to novels, and literary pieces alike
The words have become my sustenance, as we become what we consume

To those strangers in foreign lands that I may never meet again
Their perspectives offer much wisdom to this frog in the well
Shocked by new cultures and beliefs, my horizons were expanded
I believe I've went home a little wiser from those excursions in faraway places

I admit, not all of them are beautiful, some pieces ****
Parts undesired, but parts that stuck
Lessons paid with a hard price, some twisting my self
I am still grateful they are a part of me, in my unbroken Theseus ship
“I am not sure that I exist, actually. I am all the writers that I have read, all the people that I have met, all the women that I have loved; all the cities I have visited.”
― Jorge Luis Borges
HD Feb 2019
As the crimson sun sets upon her cyanic eyes,
I'm lost to the reverberations of entropy they incite,
Were if not for these amalgamations of indigo illuming its disguise,
Forevermore would this ethereal dalliance imbue into the night.
Brianca Kreeger Jul 2021
One more for the starry heavens above
The grace dusted attic is not gated
No thoughts, no prayers, I am not a white dove
The casket was never regulated.

God’s plan? Did you mean amalgamations
Of all mortals’ jagged wills meshed as one?
As below so above--with pretensions
That completion occurs when we are done.

All creation ends, nothing is finished
It all grows… until the epitome
Of anti-climaxes goes unpunished
Pacifist as I am, I’ll go peacefully

Struggle for the end, struggle for more life
There’s a kind of death to both types of strife
029473847493 May 2019
Many amalgamations
Of the human face
Consist within this highway.
One hand over the wheel,
The other at my lap.
I scan the surrounding landscape.

One
Two
There
And the oscillations
Of the human heart,
Pungent within a rampant life
Project across the strips of our eyes.
The past has written the story.
The future has written the story.

The lights will soon turn green.
And we will go.
Joe Thompson Dec 2020
I have stumble danced across the threshold of memory
Into the museum of personal mythology,
Where the actual has been replaced by representation.
Images of images -
Ossified narrative abstracted and streamlined
through repetition
With each regeneration introducing new elements
And loosing old
As they evolve
Into a synthesis of truth and lies and misrememberences -
amalgamations, the component elements of which
Are fused at the molecular level.

I have heard that the originals still exist
Locked away and archived in the unlit basement of my mind.
But I am comfortable with these
And doubt I would recognize those.
S E Pope Aug 2024
How do I know that I'm real?
Is it the flow of water over my hands as I swim through the lake?
Feeling the sun warm my skin at the cresting break of day?
Or is it looking in your eyes with my reflection staring back at me?

How do I know my childhood was real?
A dreamscape of fragmented amalgamations
Could I be a figment of my own imagination?
My demeanor a byproduct of a helpless child unhealed

I don't understand how I'm real
When I can't breathe most of the time
I created a place of comfort to visit in my mind
Now I never feel the same after lifting the thinly woven veil

I don't think I could possibly be real
Often asleep in the day to let the fractal dreams take over
It's more real than dirt left behind on the floor
And my reflection in your bright eyes begins to disappear

How do I know that anything is real?
Is it the way I fly through the magnificent stars at night?
Or the way you see me when I turn off my light?
I keep waking up to this reflection but there's nothing in the mirror
Tom Shields Jan 2021
Litmus papers fall like leaves
barren woods, skin below the bark
exposed legs shed of greaves
purer nature stirs below the dark
tend to imagining new colors while the old world bereaves

Ice on membranes crackling, creaking like an old house
with new bodies within it, none dare utter a prayer to ghosts once there
creating a haunting conscience, guilt crawling 'round the brim like a louse
these tales can't bury the memory, chasers to the chancery, scoffing at the skullduggery presiding over this trial in equity

With new thoughts through it, plodded and frigid shoes mark the marble under the mare
to speak to the rest, whose malnourished spirits' and flesh hang from their bones, clinging with nary a care
this palace-cove whose palisades are pitfalls, sinking dirt and feelings, all lines entangled snare for reeling,
in retreat flesh amalgamations bellow their hoarse call, broken things begin to crawl
one unblinking, all-seeing eye in clay and mud, servants gleefully accompanied
artificial artifices spewing from their orifices, sacrificial bones for dice, reborn to dedicate themselves twice to the ruler of all touched by windfall
all the rain stings to touch, burns to drink, all creatures move at the speed of one herd in a stampede
clouds all move uniformly, each the same shape
trim and proper, primp as a moth's evening cape

Rocks that hang like metaphors for swords pointing down all show,
the ineffectual weeping of centuries, this world of caves has come to know
day and night cycle the same, even time to each all year,
and the eye turned inside, stacked atop its counterpart sheds a tear
for the surface sees mountains are headstones, each for one moment of woe
this colossus sows despair, pinpoint accurate and slow,
a garden of edicts and a veil, the world turtle's movements sew
laws applied to the wild magicks unexplained and defined, bind the eyes to mortal time and so,
mesmerizing until blind and without sensation, the only interest or love, fades until it's gone,
now the only interaction is an internal, infernal reaction to resist madness in grief, to find grace in closing both sides, both eyes, and letting go.
write
please read and enjoy
Random chain of events
preceded occurrence re:
guarding existence of me
interminable fits and starts
concerning self destruction
inherent within one measly
self important species.

Yours truly synonymous
with any chance reader
(of course inclusive those
untold past multitudes,
who trod upon this oblate
spheroid preceding one

anonymous groveling,
middling sniveling modest
**** sapien) pursuant
upon unknown destination
giving contemplative,
introspective, speculative...

pause every now and again,
asper bajillion prior
bipedal hominids, whose
individual deliberate or
random natural biological
impulses wrought sons

and/or daughters, whose
subsequent call, sans their
wild procreative proclivities
unwittingly begat the
unique chromosomal
combinations inscribed genes

imbuing each of us with
transient occupancy to revel,
relish, reckon very finite
number of orbitz around
nearest star, how longevity
(till mortality – leisurely

and/or vocationally)
expended, yet anatomically,
biochemically, physiologically...
linkedin with avast
gamut incorporating
unknowable determinants sole

fully cobbling wide, whirled
webbing, (albeit skein
microscopic) comprising
resultant Deoxyribonucleic
amalgamations, combinations,
emulations...throughout

untold generations eventually
giving (swell pregnant)
rise to healthy progeny
predicated on an uneventful
tragic mishap in utero
preceding parturition, which

miraculous seminal fertilization
regarding series of
fortunate events delineating
quintessentially strapping
robust tot destined (years later)
to continue human

species, thus I ponder
tremendous steep odds (analogous
to drawing winning lottery
ticket), when reproductive
processes diploid propagating
one after another ongoing

generation, yet in retrospect
every cellular T-Mobile
chance coupling attendant on
haphazard spontaneous

buzzfeeding circumstances
promulgating prolific primal
precedents begetting each
individual necessitating tenuous

fluke (worm hungers) engaging,
engendering, engineering...
(similar to science experiment)
endowing penultimate on the fly

fusion between two haploid cells
impossible to explain convincingly,
(asper in my mind) the notion
predestination intervenes
likened to invisible hand.

— The End —