Newest Deviations
UnctionThere I am, hanging from my tonsils over the dark pit shaft of my open throat.Unction
If I drop, I will submerge, stiff backed and saluting, in the acidic pacific of my roaring gut, dissolve with pride intact into the mindless needs of my own body …whatever they may be;
Then my unconscious will be king, to come and take me, wide eyed and bearded, into fashionable shops to have me shouting inscrutable instructions to the invisible, to scare old ladies in provincial tea rooms with my alarming piss satins that will move like vast armies from the trenches &n
by ~aaronjbach
Missing 2The zoo escapes from the lion. The lion is walking around Fifth Avenue looking for his cage.Missing 2
He misses the zoo. He likes being captured. He likes having his day given back to him So he no longer has to hunt or sell insurance.
Perhaps, I am the lion. I read the actuarial tables to see at what point I am no longer real.
by ~aaronjbach
MissingThe best poems almost mean something, Touching on nothing As if absence were a spiritual value.Missing
I go down to the river with a bucket. There is no water. The stones are almost whispering.
I ladle air into the bucket. I carry it back to my room and pour It on my head.
I imagine that I am swimming. I am not.
I am waiting for winter to freeze me over. &n
by ~aaronjbach
LackLook, it's simple.Lack
What comes from your mouth it is not words it is the sound of cigarette smoke
rings floating off into the sky it is the failing sound of trucks passing by as one needs sleep that sound is not the alarm clock
seeping from your lips.
It is the sound of waking up to
a tea kettle screaming
it is the hum of electric violin and the dance of fire on top a log constant.
Our poets try to capture this sound with their pens sounding like amplifiers without guitars.
Our artists try to capture this sound with their p
by ~aaronjbach
Random Favourites
The Beast BeneathI do my most imaginative thinking To the rhythmic tap of rain on the roof, As oil rainbows swirl in the puddles of poetry That form on the rugged roads of life. Zig-zags of water wind their way Down the glass of the window, And the shadows slide over My fevered cheeks like phantom tears.The Beast Beneath
For a time, I am a tiger, My stripes, slithering snakes That wrap around my arms and legs, Warning you to beware the beast beneath. But my forest-green gaze bids you come hither, And my claws are concealed From your expectant eyes, While you foolishly assume that
by =saffyre-onyx
also untitleda computer chair old and faded once deep blackalso untitled
now brown from time spent in the sun where i spent countless hour upon hour upon hours blankly staring into a radiating screen blinding grey eyes while the room is dark except a circle two feet of white light small silhouette watching the digital clock
as seconds tick and tick and tick and slip past like water in a cupped hand all too quickly there is nothing left but the vacant palm three o'clock a.m. rolls around and tired eyes
restlessly
by ~recycled---air
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Northumberland, Pa
- Interests: Music, Reading, Writing, German Wines
- Favourite genre of music: The word "genre" should be burnt on a cross.
- Favourite poet or writer: Mark Strand, Buko, Vonnegut, Neruda,.....
- Email: aaronjbach@gmail.com
- AIM: pibbus02
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