Category: Group Poetry

bleh blah blug bloo

How do I tell you love you too?

When the words are too large

and encompass more than imaginable

high on wings of light we soar

Above the clouds

through the land that forgot time

and the communication across dimensions

dwindles each day

like the last glimpse

of a shooting star

Tell me what does it mean to wish?

Old tales spun like the fray of a faded scarf

repeated and reframed until they are eventually forgotten

Left away, to dust and decay

with dried flowers on a mantle and

memories collecting dust,

I have made me whole when

you left just a husk

When the cat’s tongue is out when asleep

communication hard, unease, constantly keeping oneself on guard

but I can’t, I’m listening to mommy asmr

but I can’t, I can’t… I can’t keep listening to that…

so I’ll just sit just sit on this

large hat

Oh, to have the whimsy to stand and

wear this impossible accessory

Unfortunately, I am far too small, and

this hat far too big

but I know who can wear this hat

A hat of such magnitude could only be

suited for Kurt Russell as R.J. Mac ready

In John Carpenter’s “The Thing” (1982) Rated

R with director of photography Dean Cundey

and head of special effects Rob Bottin

I like hats

to cover my chilly head

when the sun don’t shine

Down in Bikini Bottom

With Spongebob and Patrick

And Mr. Krabs and Plankton

Engaged in a passionate relationship

that would be memorialized in the stars

and called a friendship in the history books

They wrote something above this

That would be described as homosexual

But I could be wrong

My faith has not been forgotten

However, Dracula is not real

I know that now

He was never my friend

He only wanted

to suck my blood

just like Dracula or Edward

taking the very thing I need to live

dripping, dripping, gone

like water down the gutter

fading from the street

and the world above

spinning

twirling

through an unknown future

encompassed by aliens from space

and awaiting

I’ll keep waiting

Gazing at the stars

Hoping one will call to me

me the chosen one they chose me

am I the chosen one in style or power.

How am I the chosen one?

please someone tell me!!!

MIKEAL DON’T LEAVE ME HERE!!

MIKEAL!!!

The bite of ’87

The bite of 187 ants when you step on their home

My name is David

I want some ice cream. *cue applause*

I’m inside the walls

In fact, I’m eating the walls. I love drywall

but invisibility is a dull ache, in contrast

to the sharp sting of ignorance

to be seen and heard, but never listened to or acknowledged

Where do I have left to go?

After the nothing of the past

A century’s worth of adventures

A lifetime’s worth of life

Simply trying to fit all into

A singular person with only one heart

I don’t know where to go

Or what to be

which questioned me for many a year;

interrogative yet listlessly

a question hangs in the air

searching for an answer

proves fruitless for the time being

but sometimes it feels like I’m not even a human being

A human being… such a silly thing… what is even considered

human anymore

Human, man, machines, AI. How do we tell between life and machine?

Truth and artificial lies?

Where it is the point’s we can ask, are we the same?

Enhanced, but no soul? Mediocre but organic

Can I just end the poem here?