Mismatched SoCs: The Walls are White

. The Walls are White
. They’re Stained by the Light
It comes dripping down from the ceiling above,
My pooling eyes are soaking it all in
my feet are fading
sinking in the linoleum sea
the currents are running away with me
the frothy sea brine would feel quite fine
if it wasn’t so sharp
if it wasn’t so dark
if it wasn’t so hard to hold onto the line
with the waves crashing hard and the salt in your throat
with submerged coral slashing the pages you wrote
you’re screaming and thrashing but you’ve lost all hope
Be wary of tables:
Marked and designed to suit your crime,
They’ll swallow you whole and leave nothing behind
Your skin starts to rip and your bones start to grind
They eat you alive, but I really don’t mind.
It’s the silent weathervane that bothers me.
There’s no wind here.
. The Walls are White,
and the windows are weathervanes.
Here, the mirrors learn from your hair.
Does it run down your face? Do you drink it? It tastes like soup.
The final moments of a blood-stained memory
Link arms with the innocence of childhood
Everything is lost now.
Lost, lost, lost
in the white of the White Walls
Can you remember the White Walls too?
Where they came from?
The depths of hell hold the key to your cell.
We all know hell has White Walls
A pretty face with warts on the heart
It knows how to live and play out its part
And never stops singing, ringing, stinging,
Bats screeching and preaching,
The gentle sloth learns HTML programming
And becomes a ferocious tiger
With pearly white fangs
And pearly White Walls.
The tree’s final moments:
A seed planted in the blood-stained ground
Muddy blood,
Bloody mud,
A black thorned castle grows from the Earth.
His curved blade flashes.
The silver edge shimmers like mist.
A cloud of oil;
Oil as black as the blackest night
and the darkest wish.
The Tree’s final moments,
my final memories,
bloody ones.
Death
has White Walls, too.
Can you finally see?
The White Walls are closing in
crushing the light
I
can still breathe
but
the air .escapes
slipping through the cracks
I am
trapped
here with the White Walls
and the most free
I could wish to be
swimming outside
in the flowers and filth
the snow
and the shards of glass
a hay in a needlestack
holding hands
with the clock on the wall
. The Walls are White.
. The Walls are

Connectogram

Spidernet

An interlocking series of events
Each one fueling another reaction
Chemicals in a test tube
Boiling over and splashing everything
Too much!
How am I supposed to think
With everything in the world
Happening at once?
Every action I make
Changes tomorrow’s shape,
Every breath I take
Is a breath taken from a drier mouth
Perhaps I should stop acting,
Take my last bow, and leave the stage
For good.
Even that will change what happens.
I guess there is nothing I can do
Except go with the flow.

Interweb

Connected at the deepest level
Every reaction affects everyone
A raging river to the sea
Soaking all to the bone.
I need a break from this world.
The important things in life
Falling apart to the collisions
For every honking horn
Every step taken in the right direction
A line to a circle.
Breathing in the chaos of life
Thirsting for more.
Just pick up the pieces,
Broken and scattered in the waters
It can be put back together, but
Nobody knows how it fits.
No actions I can take to stop it,
The flow of the ocean.


Spidernet / Interweb

An interlocking series of events / Connected at the deepest level
Each one fueling another reaction / Every reaction affects everyone
Chemicals in a test tube / A raging river to the sea
Boiling over and splashing everything / Soaking all to the bone.
Too much! / I need a break from this world.
How am I supposed to think / The important things in life
With everything in the world / Falling apart to the collisions
Happening at once? / For every honking horn
Every action I make / Every step taken in the right direction
Changes tomorrow’s shape, / A line to a circle.
Every breath I take / Breathing in the chaos of life
Is a breath taken from a drier mouth / Thirsting for more.
Perhaps I should stop acting, / Just pick up the pieces,
Take my last bow, and leave the stage / Broken and scattered in the waters
For good. / It can be put back together, but
Even that will change what happens. / Nobody knows how it fits.
I guess there is nothing I can do / No actions I can take to stop it,
Except go with the flow. / The flow of the ocean.

SoC: Shattered Seashells

Shattered seashells so fluid and flowing groaning and growing hardly shards but scattered cards slaves washed away by waves and graves so empty they teem so silent they’re screaming and shouting their outing to nowhere to go where and show where their flow ends to bend and twist and mold the gist of gold to gain in pain to shine glowingly and knowingly with wisdom of all time and trial and tribulation the tv station of static staring straight through the melty-brained child stars and felt-handed compact cars caught catching crowns in crowds of clouds that fade softly into the mist you quietly wade in.

Shattered seashells shaping hearts that beat at their own slow pace tick slowly off the clock’s face fall softly in the palm of your hand folding grains of sand to make music and light in the stomach of night to digest lest they rest eternally in the eyes of the sky god and his flowing fields made of salty silk and orange milk that is safe enough to drink and sink down to the shine and brine at the base of the stand of the globe and the silver hem of the robe that no one can wear lest they tear away from the world.

Shattered seashells and scattered bells are the battered hells of which Simon tells each time he speaks in his commanding tone you must retaliate or be sucked into his dark romantic dance and games of chance to waltz in the fiery flags of white-tailed stags repeating forever their final fatal endeavor to mix and match and spark a revolutionary love a wingless dove senselessly beaten slashed crushed and mashed to be trashed happily ever after.

Shattered seashells finally free sadly drifting aimlessly so empty and whole yet not quite in-between for you and I to find together with our hands melting and our fingers still crossed after all these eternities spent soaking in the seashells.

Silhouette of a Draining Heart

I

Colors pour from my eyes
The sky’s silent, empty tears
Cannot wash away the stains I’ve made
The darkening rainbow of blood splashed across the sky
Runs down the fading brick walls
Pools in the cracked dog dish
Dries into the crimson velvet of your room
A solitary plume is left floating in the ice-cold water
Resting motionless in the gushing rapids
Soak in the flowing colors
Return them to my fingertips
I need them
I
need
them
~
Colors pour into your eyes
Bleeding through the canvas
Filling the rifts of your mind
Oil.
Your blood flows like oil.
Black sludge in your veins.
Is it colorless
Or all colors melded together?
The whites of your eyes are gone
Flown to the sun to burn away all trace
The light is fading
The rainbow is dripping away
Filling in the hollowed night
The colors bleed
Colors always bleed

II

The colors of our eyes mix
Running down our faces
Our waltz splashes through the dense black of night
Your hand melts in mine
Go back to the surface, rip through the mud
Before the wrinkled satin dress tears
Into the sun’s fiery grasp we dance
Violet
~
Color
Color is nothing
Dark
Color is everything
The dark shatters
Violet
Violet shines through
The mirror shatters
Shards of violet
Pulsing in violet
Color is violet
Each pump of my heart resounds
A deafening violet
Vi-o-let
Violet is everything
~
The final chilled drop falls
Our dance sinks into the earth
Our eyes have faded away
A violet rainbow fills the sky
Scraping against the hallowed night
The colors bleed away
Colors always bleed away

Communet

One day for spite
We each had to write
A poem a peer would read,
The teacher grinned
Like we had all sinned
And set our thoughts to bleed.
Our pens delayed
But soon we obeyed
And splashed our pages red,
By symbol’s face
We wrote such a pace
We should all have been dead.

Now I, a child
So meek and mild
I never spoke a word,
Wrote with such strength
At such a length
I knew I must be heard.
My paper beamed
My word-voice screamed
With soul I never told,
A dazzling show
Of joy and woe
A masterpiece, behold!

And then it was time
By rhythm and rhyme
To read each other’s works,
I felt like a king
Since my poem would bring
Sound to my voice where it lurks.
The papers were passed
My heart beat too fast
Nervous to take to the stage,
So now here’s my crown
I’m left looking down
At the words that plague my own page.

From my notebook

These are a couple of rhymes I jotted down during History class. At the time I knew what I was doing with them, but looking at them later I'm not too sure. I wish I wasn't so easily distracted, then my stuff would be more interesting...


Double Edge Words

Your crisp twisted truths tear and rip through my stomach
Like swallowing thorns just to get some cheap chuckles
You know I'd cry stop in a million flavors
But fish hooks are lodging themselves in my knuckles

You sleep in the daylight and conjure these poisons
They plague and devour our garden's sweet song
The hummingbirds swim in cold puddles of acid
And hope that the rust in their throat isn't strong

A changeling made of soup and silver
Built too high to touch the earth
Your bloody eyes change virtues to lies
And curse the values of birth

Alphabeta

A traveler to the star-splattered sky
Breaking backs along the way
Careful not to trip the alarm
Digging deeper in the well
Every step closer makes the road longer
Fountain stopped flowing
Gaining by losing
Hungry on a full stomach
Ivory keys on a self-playing piano
Jump forth to give an answer: another question
Killing the cat over and over
Laughing at the insanity crowded around
Manic to reach the destination
Never closer than when started
Open fields close
Pacing the university halls
Questions plague and pressure
Running from the build-up
Sky’s limit is a drop of rain in the ocean
Truth will elude
Universe hides it
Varying its wavelengths
Winter’s reflection shimmers
X’s value
Yonder lies the intellectual’s downfall
Z, the end, unattainable.

Sunset is at hand

Now we stand with coarse waves lapping over our ankles
Arms outstretched, fingertips praying to scrape the horizon
You say if we reach it you’ll never let go
You’ll hold my hand and drift silently away
But I know your hands are buttered and your heart is set
I’ll be left alone, my feet molding to the coral
Watching you fade as the sun swallows itself
And I’ll wait in the dark
The clammy palms of ghosts caressing my cheeks
Vampires thirsting to trace the fearful tears down my face
Chanting in their wooden voices a history of mistakes
I listen to these twisted thorns of the future,
Cursing as my hand embraces yours.

Rainflash

Leopard shining through milk,
Spittle on the windowsill.
Tearing pink tissue,
Slipping softly forward
With kettle corn thoughts.
A dripping faucet.
Liquid sunshine falling
gently,
Cotton soaking in the light
And dripping gray
Upon shingled umbrellas.
Muddy waters,
Pooled pavement,
Sinking ships,
A glass mirror.
Remembering.

Leopard shining through milk,
Spittle on the windowsill.
Gathering the light.
A blackening carousel,
Crunching against
Clashing mountains.
Gloom on the outside,
But warm by the fire.
Soon started,
Soon over,
A string on my finger,
A moment.


Original "found poem" haiku:

Rain Leopard shines through milk
Spittle on the windowsill
Tearing pink tissues