Universal Jurisdiction by TwoSteps-FourLetters, literature
Literature
Universal Jurisdiction
Fingers snap and surge,
into the fake leather
of the wheel,
A current that dropped from the moon rays.
The roads slick and wet,
but for when the sunray returns,
spout washed-out shampoo
into the drainage.
Unlicensed and unprecedented.
But why, soaked through,
not go inside to dry?
She asked this many times;
To the house or to the garage
To sleep and wake up
versus
to stand on the street and see
the oncoming lights
Crystals litter the grass; if light could refract
Through them, if it were daytime, if the blades
Were sharper or were somewhere else, aboriginal colors
Would shine through the prisms the way you
Described, saying one day we'd find a world
And three stones, and we would see as if we never have seen.
Stepping in this field is like treading a mine
Or through mines, trying not to tip a trap or
Trip a model-scale avalanche; a challenge met with
Rewards like a pocket of gold or the victory of
Having salvaged all of your limbs. I still have two legs
And two arms, and a pocket on my shirt weighted
With gold to remind me, every time I br
A broken slinky named samsara
stops descending the stairs,
remembering that up is nirvana.
She looks down and says there
is the spot that I was searching
for and settles incorrectly in a place where
She feels her stomach lurching.
Down nor up are real;
the step where she is perching
slants 45 degrees. She cant feel
the tilt, circles have no tips,
which was previously assumed ideal.
There are no floors, each step dips
into the next, each dip peaks
into a step, to catch the circle in a lip.
Samsara spins. On the wall she spots her cheeks,
burning red, in hidden mirrors, samsara,
youre getting me do
Significant or not I reverse glossolalia
Stirring phonemes into meaning with the bumps on my tongue.
Take the meaning from meaning, try to live more like Rabia
And inhale past the lungs
Swim the leagues without gills
Conquer science, insignificant, live among
Those who wholly fill
Themselves with divine gasses
Stolen, jagged, from the air and changed by stolen skill.
Alter eyes, change into broken glasses.
Broken light bulbs shine new light
On easy passes
Though here, without cars, travel at night
Is impossible; nocturnal seedlings
Cling to their bedspreads in fright.
Seedlings can die from pillow fights, they need things
my eyes drive so i can hold my tongue
on a distracted speedometer,
identity theft thermometer,
measuring the heat of the rubber at rush hour.
mercury crouches, a prisoner in a glass tube
and i want to see it raise to riot
banging its cage i crush the gas
trancelike, as if on a pilgrimage
to that stop sign My God
The Deity of the Crossroads the
Lord of Fever Dreams.
God says STOP but with a full tank i
plow past my destination
rearview mirror shows STOP my
God in the middle of the intersection
red for my respiration for
ritual perturbation
meanwhile home sick i douse a rag in cold water
to try to cheat my inner heat
Voices mesh through the wood of a central beam as
Two men charge from different poles
The beam breaks.
Across the beam balanced a girl made for show and tell
Told to tell tales about how far downhill her legs have run,
Where they landed, and if they were planning on a return.
Voices mingle and mesh stuck in the wood as
One man gripping the torso of a beautiful legless acrobat
Sits on a broken beam.
He mourns the loss of the circus joy and its creators.
Time manifested in retired performers
Grows old, wondering when fate will allow herself to meet herself.
Fate brims with glory,
Fate is a stone painted with kunkum
In an Ind
Months have mouths and this one is screaming
I woke up in a dream with no meaning
Placed my foot in a pool swallowing my shoe
And seven seas were waiting
Poseidon shot the pharaoh whipping the water
Brick by brick shot
Mortar round shots of
Freedom, sounds like
Bricks on bricks falling into the sea
My inflated arms stopped flapping the tide so
I decided to try
To fly
But crows who lie to survive
Gave me lessons to swim:
The skys magicians, artisans made of feathers who
Make wood into cardboard cut outs of whores
Olive branch beer cans
And call them watery wine, those
Intoxicated carbonated thirst-quenching bricks to be
On Not Being Russian by TwoSteps-FourLetters, literature
Literature
On Not Being Russian
I fell on the ice yesterday.
I never honed in on the skills I learned as a child;
Once I wanted to be a figure skater,
Gracious as a wind-up model in a jewelry box,
Before reaching its crescendo, twirling to a slow
Until I twirl the switch again
And begin again the show.
This morning my leg looked like the paints downstairs
I didnt notice
It hurt to sit but
Sometimes I choose to stand
Im not one for ovations but Ill clap if its worth it,
Not one for Broadway, the money is enough
And I usually recycle the playbill.
I prefer to watch the scenes.
There was a theme, a scheming motive, maybe not mine when
The Idea of North by TwoSteps-FourLetters, literature
Literature
The Idea of North
Was it the day the rain started, earlier, the day before
That Noah realized hed be a vagabond zookeeper on a handicraft
Lifeboat, shepherding every creature made to breathe or more
(The cruel, the meek, the clever, the daft)
Forward into a future that had a future away
From the newly molded past?
Or was it a lottery system drawn every Friday,
And the Lord thus rested for the Lord has won, and the Lord was given
A man to do his work at minimum livelihood pay
And a new dictionary definition of dead-end job? The cursed boss placed him in heaven
Where an angel must believe in second chances, he has two wings
To propel him through
When I spit I taste no ink. My tongue is
red not black, there are no lines
for guidance drawn upon my lips
drawn beneath my eyes, I draw
from my pocket a pen and I draw
a knife on a sheet of paper, which falls
on the ground once its contents
are discarded, ink spat through a straw
no double dipping or double speak here.
Double vision occurs, maps drawn
used only for certain circumstances
drawn to circumvent certain situations
I circumnavigate to avoid execution
of pre-written free will. Compass draws
a circle on a sheet of crisp white paper.
I walk that line until I tire and retire
to bed, the sheets not warm not used
Universal Jurisdiction by TwoSteps-FourLetters, literature
Literature
Universal Jurisdiction
Fingers snap and surge,
into the fake leather
of the wheel,
A current that dropped from the moon rays.
The roads slick and wet,
but for when the sunray returns,
spout washed-out shampoo
into the drainage.
Unlicensed and unprecedented.
But why, soaked through,
not go inside to dry?
She asked this many times;
To the house or to the garage
To sleep and wake up
versus
to stand on the street and see
the oncoming lights
Crystals litter the grass; if light could refract
Through them, if it were daytime, if the blades
Were sharper or were somewhere else, aboriginal colors
Would shine through the prisms the way you
Described, saying one day we'd find a world
And three stones, and we would see as if we never have seen.
Stepping in this field is like treading a mine
Or through mines, trying not to tip a trap or
Trip a model-scale avalanche; a challenge met with
Rewards like a pocket of gold or the victory of
Having salvaged all of your limbs. I still have two legs
And two arms, and a pocket on my shirt weighted
With gold to remind me, every time I br
I stood and I reached and I fell. The flower was tempting. It was beautiful where it lay originally, untainted by shadows and dust and the humid air of the east coast. The sunlight, delicately nudging the flowers petals, waited for acceptance into the colony of pollen as a different type of birth.
I stood and you watched as I fell. Did I fall far enough to hurt, you asked? No, I replied, brushing pavement chips off of my knees. Those are the worst, I thought, the tiny pebbles in the road that appear to be part of the cemented batter but are merely decorations, a collection intended to aid these weary feet.
My knees were bleeding and y
When I spit I taste no ink. My tongue is
red not black, there are no lines
for guidance drawn upon my lips
drawn beneath my eyes, I draw
from my pocket a pen and I draw
a knife on a sheet of paper, which falls
on the ground once its contents
are discarded, ink spat through a straw
no double dipping or double speak here.
Double vision occurs, maps drawn
used only for certain circumstances
drawn to circumvent certain situations
I circumnavigate to avoid execution
of pre-written free will. Compass draws
a circle on a sheet of crisp white paper.
I walk that line until I tire and retire
to bed, the sheets not warm not used
The Idea of North by TwoSteps-FourLetters, literature
Literature
The Idea of North
Was it the day the rain started, earlier, the day before
That Noah realized hed be a vagabond zookeeper on a handicraft
Lifeboat, shepherding every creature made to breathe or more
(The cruel, the meek, the clever, the daft)
Forward into a future that had a future away
From the newly molded past?
Or was it a lottery system drawn every Friday,
And the Lord thus rested for the Lord has won, and the Lord was given
A man to do his work at minimum livelihood pay
And a new dictionary definition of dead-end job? The cursed boss placed him in heaven
Where an angel must believe in second chances, he has two wings
To propel him through
On Not Being Russian by TwoSteps-FourLetters, literature
Literature
On Not Being Russian
I fell on the ice yesterday.
I never honed in on the skills I learned as a child;
Once I wanted to be a figure skater,
Gracious as a wind-up model in a jewelry box,
Before reaching its crescendo, twirling to a slow
Until I twirl the switch again
And begin again the show.
This morning my leg looked like the paints downstairs
I didnt notice
It hurt to sit but
Sometimes I choose to stand
Im not one for ovations but Ill clap if its worth it,
Not one for Broadway, the money is enough
And I usually recycle the playbill.
I prefer to watch the scenes.
There was a theme, a scheming motive, maybe not mine when
Months have mouths and this one is screaming
I woke up in a dream with no meaning
Placed my foot in a pool swallowing my shoe
And seven seas were waiting
Poseidon shot the pharaoh whipping the water
Brick by brick shot
Mortar round shots of
Freedom, sounds like
Bricks on bricks falling into the sea
My inflated arms stopped flapping the tide so
I decided to try
To fly
But crows who lie to survive
Gave me lessons to swim:
The skys magicians, artisans made of feathers who
Make wood into cardboard cut outs of whores
Olive branch beer cans
And call them watery wine, those
Intoxicated carbonated thirst-quenching bricks to be
Voices mesh through the wood of a central beam as
Two men charge from different poles
The beam breaks.
Across the beam balanced a girl made for show and tell
Told to tell tales about how far downhill her legs have run,
Where they landed, and if they were planning on a return.
Voices mingle and mesh stuck in the wood as
One man gripping the torso of a beautiful legless acrobat
Sits on a broken beam.
He mourns the loss of the circus joy and its creators.
Time manifested in retired performers
Grows old, wondering when fate will allow herself to meet herself.
Fate brims with glory,
Fate is a stone painted with kunkum
In an Ind
my eyes drive so i can hold my tongue
on a distracted speedometer,
identity theft thermometer,
measuring the heat of the rubber at rush hour.
mercury crouches, a prisoner in a glass tube
and i want to see it raise to riot
banging its cage i crush the gas
trancelike, as if on a pilgrimage
to that stop sign My God
The Deity of the Crossroads the
Lord of Fever Dreams.
God says STOP but with a full tank i
plow past my destination
rearview mirror shows STOP my
God in the middle of the intersection
red for my respiration for
ritual perturbation
meanwhile home sick i douse a rag in cold water
to try to cheat my inner heat
Significant or not I reverse glossolalia
Stirring phonemes into meaning with the bumps on my tongue.
Take the meaning from meaning, try to live more like Rabia
And inhale past the lungs
Swim the leagues without gills
Conquer science, insignificant, live among
Those who wholly fill
Themselves with divine gasses
Stolen, jagged, from the air and changed by stolen skill.
Alter eyes, change into broken glasses.
Broken light bulbs shine new light
On easy passes
Though here, without cars, travel at night
Is impossible; nocturnal seedlings
Cling to their bedspreads in fright.
Seedlings can die from pillow fights, they need things
Give me nicotine- its a Sunday morning
And dreary grey Mondays notwithstanding
In anticipation I write my suicide notes: the week looms foreboding
As the clock strikes down and the fears settle into a frown,
Inching closer to very-similar-tude
And what-you-saw-last-Friday. Me in the back.
With my friend of smoke and ashes- capital sin,
Corroding, Eroding. Injurious to health.
I dont need your statutory warnings, brotherthe clock is ticking
And I dont like to wait.
A Scientific Discovery.... by ashellessmind, literature
Literature
A Scientific Discovery....
A Scientific Discovery in Three or Four Parts
I.
When we reached
the center
of the sun, there
was a man
no one else saw him
sweating profusely.
He must have been
HOT in that tiny room so
full of such large lights.
He typed on a
smallish typewriter with
Thousands! Trillions! Infinite!
words per second. With pages soaring
like bold, white eagles
within that finite square.
I offered to relieve him.
I was thinking, "He
must be so tired. Surely
he's been typing for a longish
time. & who would want
to type eternally? & who?" & then
I thought "No! Not me! Not in that
tiny room! No!"
II.
The year is 2096.
February was strange. I started writing about it tonight in a very strange and very scattered way. I don't know how I feel about what I'm writing. It's half autobiographical, half nonsense. Nothing is chronological. None of it makes sense, but I'm hoping to pull it together in the end. I want to make this into something more readable, even though it's partially mind-vomit. I want to work on character development, even though there are no characters. Most importantly, I want to work on resolution. If someone wouldn't mind looking over it when I finish the first round I'd appreciate it; I want isolated opinions on this one. Let me know.
Thanks