K Shell

Road Trip with the Hollywood Actor

 

I suppose we’re both important now
one of us might say on the stretch of road 

 

between America and More America,
westward, us discussed like systems, feeling,

 

terms of presidency in lamented irony,
impossible sincerity now we can scour 

 

google-Tundra like gods whipping their presence
from scene to scene, life watched in a camera 

 

outside your body. It’s synthesis
we might call for. We’re going left  

 

to find the start of Earth, to pass into the end
and stall the cycle, inverse, again, before 

 

wading through oceans of pre-time mountains
in motion, dollar-green, cocaine-as sand 

 

between our toes. Desert candy. Hot pop-pink.
Sugar-stone wasteland. Utah pseudo-plateaued,

 

out-blazed by the information highway.
I could scream-laugh phrases, pretentious,

 

into the star-sucking night if I were less naïve,
if this hemispheric nation was gold with sunlight, 

 

that autumn feeling. Fall forever. We’d pass a golden shrine –
choose your temples of fanaticism with great care – McDonald’s – 

 

while predicting when New York will shrug
into a pile of glass pillars. Anyway, we stop 

 

by protests against the petrol pipeline
and our yellow car blasts into the sky. 

 

Aberdeen NJ, 2016

2am Poem or Something, Yeah

Headphone wire wrapped round
my outstretched wrist like a vein 
in the milked-dark night,

glossy black looking back,
I thought of memory and heavy hearts 
to the sound of past songs ─ 

my iPod, green stone, one
thousand songs on one slab,
orchestra in a palm.

My desk lamp is straightened
when absent. On the radio screen:
dust-smear oscillations

like visualisations
of signals on the edge of silent places.
The space, ceasing. And when

that light is turned off? Brief
after-orange. These songs will
not die, but pause, because

this body must stop all
looking. Go, light, give away
your mysterious ways;

my heated computer
can’t keep yammering on.
Ready for peace? Stop. Sleep.

@ergodicTempo

World2

A good tree turned Cursed.

Rotten from the internal servers, internal servants,
roots stretched into hopeless soil.
Stuck in a desert of spambot rust
and dead XenForo.

But a seed is pushed
by the winds of change.
Crafted by community spirit,
a leap of faith over infinite sky.

Hardmode is over.
Load up the new world.

 

Written in celebration of the launch of the new Terraria official forum site, Terraria Community Forum.

Lady Arabella

To All the Boys I Have Loved: Lessons Learnt

 

To all the boys I have loved, I have always had a lesson to learn

My value, my worth and my strength when facing heartbreak at each turn

I have given myself openly and honestly with truly little in return

But these are the lessons I have had to learn

Lies, deceit, and abusive words and actions always then blamed on me

What I know now, back then I was too naive to see

Shakespeare once said “love looks not with the eyes but with the mind “

It is true, love really can be blind

I held my heart out openly, exposed, and placed within your hands

Lesson learnt: if it is not protected and held carefully do not stay and question where you stand

Whilst I would make the time and make sure you were a priority

Lesson learnt: to all the boys I have loved before I was nothing than a mere majority

They will share sweet words followed with little or no action

Lesson learnt: when you question this, you will be blamed for your reaction

Continuous hurt and my kindness then taken for granted

All those moments and words spoken, only for them to be recanted

Oh, how I remember all those moments I have felt broken and I have cried

 In those moments Lesson learnt: self-pride

 All those scars due to hurt, my weary soul still recalls

 Painful Lesson learnt: stop giving those who do not deserve it your all

See I was honest and always would say how I felt

Lesson learnt: that is not the hand we are always dealt

So, to all the boys I have loved Thank you for the lessons learnt

Once bitten, twice shy, and now the bridges burnt

 So, thank you for the heartbreak, and for the healing that it has bought

Thank you for the lessons I needed to learn and that could not be self-taught.

 

Final round
 

You said you’re over it and it’s time to walk away

But then again that’s something you always say

You’ll walk out but you then come back

 No, I won’t allow it this time because I’m sorry means jack

 It’s been three weeks and now you say let’s talk, because I’m no longer upset

 You ask me to sit down and listen whilst you light up a cigarette

But no not this time I’m so over it, I don’t need your love

Here comes the lies “Ding, ding” Round 1, hands up let’s put on the gloves

I love you, I’m sorry I didn’t mean what I said, as I go to walk away you say please don’t leave just yet

I just needed a-bit of space to sort something out and without me your so upset

Oh, so now that’s your stance

I’ll hear you out okay, let’s dance

 “Ding, ding” time for Round 2,

I'm still here and you’ve now got me questioning what I should do

 Listen, “I need you, you’re the only one for me”

“I’ll prove it this time, it will be different you will see” 

“I promise I’ll change; you’ll never have to second guess”

“I’ll treat you like a queen and nothing less”

“Ding,ding” here comes round 3

The tug at my emotions, making me think we were meant to be

No, it won’t work this time, I’m sorry but I don’t need you

I don’t need the constant back and forth and your words that aren't true

“Ding,ding” hear that, yes for you it’s the final round

Now your silence is so profound

Now it’s my turn to fight back

Instead of on the deference I’m now on the attack

 Nice try, but No, I’m done, it’s a K.O

Just like I was left in a daze who’s the one now looking like Galileo?

 All your attempts won’t work this time because I now know it’s just a lie

So, baby do not waste your breath...  this is GOODBYE.

J-T Kelly

Desert John’s Saloon

 

The doors of my heart swing open

Both ways, like saloon doors

On their double hinges.

 

They swing shut again

Immediately. Each new person

Has to push their own way in or out.

 

But even when the doors are closed,

You can see right inside,

See who’s there,

 

If anyone’s there.

These doors don’t lock.

Is it just empty? Closed? Abandoned?

 

Anyone can make their way in. To stay

You have to drink. To drink

You have to pay.

Do you have gold

In your pocket? Perhaps a

Tooth to extract? A tongue? A heart?

 

I dream of streets paved with gold,

Deadbolted doors, keys,

Permanent tenants.

 

But this is the Wild

West. Any ol’ drifter can

Walk in, get drunk, wreck the place.