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Cycle II

no paper was harmed this time

By Brenton FPublished about a month ago Updated about a month ago 2 min read
g r i d

two hot coals jumped out

jumped out of the fire

and she went off

like a frog in a box

when ok's not ok


when fine is not fine

not fine at all

sitting in this silence

so much wasted space

shooting stars pah

(waves hand dismissively)

it’s just a moth in the light

well fuckin hello

this gelatinous haze

a shroud of sitting in the dark

a howl of waiting in the dark

seeing things in the dark

being things in the dark

things that are

and aren't there

all you need aint all you want

an all you got

aint worth a pot

a pot of piss

by anyone’s measure

and yeah

it aint fair it aint even even

endless processions

of pocketed possessions

and we aint even thievin

not scared?

you could be


you should be

predictive text shits me

but its handy

half lemonade

half beer

it’s fucking shandy

and where's that erotic gravy

when ya need it

where's ya fucking faith

when you heed it?


sent ta hell

just as well

who can tell?

indulge on compulsion

dine on deceit

yeah this means nothing

mine or yours?

i got plenty of the nothing

i could wax lyrical

about the most inane topics

Pressure Sway


Precious Way

what do they call

a misheard lyric?

i'm not gonna google it

simply because:

 i am lazy

 i am apathetic

 i don’t give a shit

 fuck google

 all of the above

(print friendly version

– please use a black pen)

they let me drive

i don’t really want to

that’s the way it is

i’d rather be on a bendy bus

headed this way

headed that way

headed away

from here

just headed

a whole lot older

a whole lot colder

and still nowhere

near grown up

near warm

a mixture of mutated madness

a selection of serious sadness

one at a time please


every hysterical skerrick

a laugh one minute

and if you’re lucky

another after that

and if not,


blocking out the world

measuring the space

between the headaches

stepping out of places

avoiding those spaces

trivial trimmed traces

we have dissolvable faces

we can hide

from everyone

except ourselves

we can deny

but it’s all empty

cannot divide by zero

and the things

that are no good

and lets face it

all this troubling humanity

all this energy

spent on fidgets

spent on twitches

spent on constantly unfrayed nerves

for me

for you

for anyone


i don’t have dreams

i have another life when i sleep

i have a pair of squeaky shoes

i take em off when i creep

kneeling in the shallow end

several missing words + deep

still just making it up

as i go along

letting my minds tenuously wander

via my nervousness system

through my arthritic fingers

into the soft green LED glow

of the keys

on the [PRODUCT NAME] keyboard

below them

i don’t have goals

aspirations quashed – CHECK!

i am both windmill

and lance!

in light of what the future

may or may not bring

and in flagrant spite

of every single fucking thing

i’m still here

i don’t have ideas

but my mind leaks

je n'en ai aucune idée

For FunFree Verse

About the Creator

Brenton F

It's just a token of my extreme - Frank Zappa

- - -

I have an eBook, a collection of my favourite pieces

Link to Amazon

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  • Esala Gunathilakeabout a month ago

    Keep up the good work

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