canverse

i have wedged my mind into a corner that I can’t find
and loot, at the worrisome mess that is in its place:
a smile with no eyes and a laugh with no face
a depth of dimension and a cosmic cake of
consciousness. A pixilated invention an endless
assortment of perceptions the channeling of
conversation the very converse of a nation and
why be converse when you can be can-verse
like a canvas let the world paint its picture
onto you

Advertisements

eyes scroll

words trot across the page telling me what they think
about that
the television hums a melody systematically
interrupted by shrill fire-alarm
a wordcount a deadline and a reading list play
hide-and-seak on a screen, laughing at the person staring
at it
‘it is not going too well’ they mutter, looking
at the word-count that had a long way to be reached
‘it will be’ I ensure them peering at the words from a
distance, knowing that nearing them drowns one
in a sleep-like daze and disables one’s attention for
an inconvenient amount of time.
Enough.
Onward and carry on.

This article will be writ, rest assured!

puddle

pimples pandemonium pickles
splinter-splatter sentences
third-wave digital media
mico-economic indulgences
google definition definition
that. What was the point of the
history within that dialect? what
was the meaning of the matter in that
medium? I needed to become a web tech and a
politic as well as an opinion. Classes question readings
ratings losing rooms finding rooms losing links
and finally, finding them again (bookmark this time)
Navigating within a maze of abbreviated information
the links the lists the readings the (no joke) utter-bliss
of losing oneself within a matter of complete chaos, sifting
through it and lifting from it a blanket of sense, holding it
up against another blanket of saved chaos, and making
something
new.

Melody

words entangled like a web
of thoughts that caught the last
train on a last breath of a
a long day. Tired like the end of a long sentence
and the focus on the tip of your nose.
Restless like the second’s ever-ticking cycle tock
Peaceful like the stillness
And the gravity of rock

I tried to fly

picked up feathers from the sky
they wont stick
the mud too thick
the wall is being built brick
by brick
so bend your knees and
jump up high
you wont fall
you are too tall
and if afraid then you can
crawl
the grass is green
each strand so clean
follow the tip to catch
the beam
these grains wont swallow my grave
scars too thick
made of brick
I think the sky is falling sick

look at us

our feet are webbed within that
tragic stick the tar that scrapes our toes
this is us
the reckless race that races over children chasing
the glory at the horizon beyond
a bubble called want and growing
until it contains the whole world and
then we look to see that
it was always empty
look at us
two legs to walk two hands to detonate
these fingers type like that mouth speaks and
this mind thinks and it thinks
it thinks
that this world must really
stink