Amnesia strikes the body And blood oozes out Through eyes of red I stumble across a reality Into the mire of gore I search for the road Into one rut of blood I see through mire of red of blood of a reality Then comes a sight of a red world Across the haze of [...]
pluto Panes: urban waste
What if you slept? And what if, in your sleep, you dreamed? And what if, in your dream, you went to heaven and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower? And what if, when you awoke, you had the flower in your hand? Ah, what then? -[Coleridge]
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loonybird on semi- fictional tale about Plu… plutopanes on urban waste: my stuff Babak Azarmi on urban waste: my stuff Falls of table on about Pluto Panes {K|J|P}{a|e}{n|m}{e|… on Private: Passing through the l… 
my tumblr poetry- flying car May 10, 2012
- A Birthday poem for Pluto May 7, 2012a little cottage on the baywhere you and i both staybreathless, yet wanting moretaking in the morning swayi prefer a hat round the clockyou draw the walls with a rockthe days are new as mornin’ dewabout us the people talkwhat are we? they can not saysneer, jeer, envy they maycares who what they rearwe are happy in our waylove if they want tohate if the […]
- mad girl cooking weed April 17, 2012a puppet made of skin and bonesbounces its way to and frolike stonesknocking down the shorewhispering and whiningof visible prints on invisible wallsand footsteps that went deep downgot lost an echo; a vibrant soundbroken green glassa night that lastsa generation longshadows that fire madea growing resemblance to sand grainsand glimmering rivulets of smother […]
- an alluring hand that waves
distracts the weakest of men
promises love
i failed like the others
at... April 17, 2012an alluring hand that waves distracts the weakest of men promises love i failed like the others at the battle gates of siraz straight through the bloodied throat a dagger she waved and called me closer it’s a game of dice six sides of terror
- word April 17, 2012pulchritudinous is such an ugly name for beauty -Pluto.
- six feet screams April 16, 2012candicelizabeth: i wonder if they would get new clothesfor my funeralforgotten pricetags at the black burialit’s only ever a wonderi’ve never gone all the way underplanned from start to endlaid out the where and when the weight of their sadness pulls meback, drags me down hard to catch my breath in this town
- bombshell April 16, 2012candicelizabeth: is it murder if you kill a dying man if you kiss him and you hold his hand feed him his forty pills, forty winks tilt the cup so he can drink is it wrong to wish that it was you to wish that you were dying toovera, love, hold on tightsay goodbye to him tonightand sometime soon your turn will cometo leave this world as he’s done
- gestalt April 16, 2012candicelizabeth: if i draw the boundaries of you will you color inside the lines because i only know your edges sharp and round by turns, by mood even now i’m second guessing should this be a stick or a circle i’m no artist and you never sat still long enough to be painted
- travelling north April 15, 2012drunken roads,scattered buildings the road sign proclaims distance the train ignores sunflower fieldsand red soil the peeping uglyness of the indestructable industrial age skeletons of manageable progressthe white smoke followers -Pluto.
- wandering getting lost April 15, 2012Interestingly “Ghumna”, the Hindi word for ‘wandering’ is the same for getting lost. Wandering then is the process of getting lost perpetually. Trying to look at the map from this lost position. spinning. moving into the world. Establishing a sense of place from within. A forever act of submerging oneself in a milieu. The one where yo […]
