Nothing Changed – Chris Nelson

Nothing really changed at all,

The mark still stayed upon the wall,

And as we looked for something new,

Behind our backs it grew and grew.

Though we thought that we’d moved on,

The chains that held us were not gone,

And darkness clouded all our arts,

And spread its blackness through our hearts.

Things we thought that we had tamed,

Clung to our shadows hurting, maimed,

To heal themselves when night took hold,

Our sweetest dreams to then enfold.

In the light it brought its gloom,

In every corner, every room,

The stain it grew with fitful glee,

To pin us here and make us see.

Every footstep brought us here,

But never freed us from our fear,

Hung heavy over every head,

And coloured every word we said.

Dreamed we’d come so very far,

Our feet stuck fast in blackened tar,

We felt we had so much to prove,

Only to find we couldn’t move.

And nothing really changed at all,

The mark still stayed upon the wall,

And as we looked for something new,

Behind our backs it ever grew.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

 

If you enjoyed this, thank you! To read more please visit chrisnelson61

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Chupacabra ~ Samantha Rose

Obsidian melts off my glinting fangs

as cosmic rivers gleam down rippling spines.

I lurch out toward the rolling emerald pastures,

brush struck naked under the cut of my tail.

 

Goats, unaware, feed off the land below.

Crickets silence and scatter as my claws crunch

the dry leaves, like brittle, crackling bones licked dry

by smelting flames.

 

Closer now.

A bubbling odor creeps off my scaly flesh,

filling the desolate earth from the ground

as murmurs stretch louder,

 

echoes gurgling up in the gut of the valley.

Until

silence.

Tomorrow they will find

 

punctures buried in the fur caskets

of blood-drained bodies,

my hunger satisfied

for one more night.

 

© Copyright Samantha Rose 2018


You can catch more of Samantha existing at her blog, Existential Poetry.

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TILL DEATH DO US PART ~ BOJANA STOJCIC

Inhabitants of the planet Earth
linger in the trance-like state induced by moving screens
transfixed by the beauty of the unnatural
The carousel ride on kaleidoscopic wooden horses
imaginary gears simulate galloping
Occupants of the unlimited garden space with an ability
to choose a picture-perfect lawn shape
infinite landscaping ideas
Green cards and permanent residence status guaranteed
No fear of overpopulation

Millions are held hostage by technological arsenals
voluntarily shackled to ensure ongoing enslavement
Servants bound to service from here to eternity
Escape attempts from sugar and cotton plantations unknown

Attention fixated
Awareness of pain altered
Perception reshaped and distorted
Reality suspended
Conscious mind non-existent. Non-presence is
everything and everything else

Emotions are autonomic reflexes
Heart rate controlled. Memories restrained.
Accumulated experience where habits and responses to the world
dwell kept within bounds

A perennial state of hypnotic relaxation
and unconditional love, deeply planted and regularly
watered. Transcendent. Lost in you, my digital realm. Forever and ever.
Don’t want to be found.
Writing a story together. Contemporary role plays and
use of advanced dildos for
fans of BDSM and a wide spectrum
of kinky sex their toys offer.
Oh Wendy!
You shine with every word you utter.
You make me swoon when you smile at me like that.
Trapped in a labyrinth of passion.

Craving touch, they
spread apps open
fingers move in a circular motion, beyorny
a moan escapes them
put your finger in the middle of the screen
I feel you move to meet my fingers
slow curling hands
slide up and down, in and out, back in
deep and hard. Fast. Faster.
No release needed. Enjoying a permanent erection.

A heavy crosspiece is fastened over their necks
attached to the plough they are pulling
the yoke it is
they are reluctant to loosen
The world is sold into high-tech slavery.
No movement for its abolition on the horizon.


 

* You can read more of Bojana’s work at Blogging with Bojana

 

Carbon Copycat ~ Brandewulf

carbon copycat

I get it.
I know what works.
Dysfunction dominates,
Fully filling laundry bags
Because that’s all
That can be worn.
Nothing soft will sell,
Nor tender beats be
The cadence of the masses.
Gather your personal clouds
Until they are purple,
Sullen and swollen,
Taking their toll on
The headwaters of humanity.
So I’ll bandy about
Words that want out
And check off those boxes.
Tick, tick, tick.
Done!
Happy now?
Of course not.
Why would you be.
In the end we’re all even,
No one to believe in.
Just a fool on the hill watching
One tin soldier ride away.

© Brandewulf 2018


You can read more of Brandewulf’s work at Brandewijn Words.

Introducing Chris Nelson ~ Magpie

MORALITY PARK

My perch it is the highest fence

My view the clearest view,

I scan the city streets all day

In search of something new.

I watch the faces passing by

The frightened and the brave,

And steal their thoughts before they know

They’re stumbling to the grave.

But never tree

Or hanging branch

Will ever hear me sing,

I move with grace

From left to right

But never on a limb.

I’ll take the shiny and the dull

And keep them in my nest,

All the doors that never opened

Now locked inside my chest.

And when at night you cannot see

The memories that you lost,

I’ll gaze upon each every one

And marvel at the cost.

But never will

I take the dive

Or sing out loud my song,

Just bob my head

From side to side

And pray that I’m not wrong.

I’ll watch the Sun both…

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r.i.p.

samantha lucero

here lies you, silent as the dust you’ve built
my favored disgrace, my bookmarked witch.

i hang YOU every morning in the mirror. i curl you back from your pacific grave by the rope i buried you in just to hear you scream again.

it’s your tired eyes that shimmer patiently in the placental dark that makes me hold my breath, makes me ooze ‘why?’

some silky word you cup over my mouth like a burglar’s glove;
sometimes i glint like a knife under the moon.”
 sometimes i want to die.

here lies me, the view from the prison behind my eyes. they have to saw a hole there someday. maybe that’s when i’ll go away.

there was the picture of dorian gray that he would hide from everyone. the monster gnawed by its own teeth, the truth.

i am the picture & somewhere is my…

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Dear Pleiades

Gospel Isosceles

Photography by Alan Dyer
We began in bright, perihelial shades
Trampoline back tucks and glittery eyelids, adding to your shine
Remember that mall run with your preteen friends, blasting the radio in the car?
You discover sex, assault, their concomitance, body and blood, pleasure and pain-
ful silence, the prevalence of the sick union,

View original post 268 more words