The Flashverse Hashtag: Four Poems

“Broken I”

The following is a yet-to-be-defined form of poetry or writing specific to the platform of social networking websites like Twitter or Tumblr. I have coined the term “Flashverse,” to describe the stream of consciousness, written in real time, without edit or premeditated form. In order to indicate to my followers and to people reading my timeline, after each line I use a Hashtag, in this instance #gwV. By placing the Hash or Pound symbol ( # ) before a sequence of alphabetical integers, a link is created for a new timeline featuring whatever is written under that hashtag exclusively. Unfortunately, this is not a permanent link and after 48 hours, a Flashverse like #gwV becomes unavailable unless preserved elsewhere.

“Broken I” combines both excerpts from my Twitter Timeline beginning Jan-29-2011 and ending on Feb-02-2011, and the poetry from the now defunct hashtag, #gwV. The image below represents the entire Flashverse, consolidated from the series of 140 character limit messages posted before, during and after its creation.

Each new line, represents a new message.

When a date or hashtag is indicated in parentheses after a line, the reader will identify this as either beginning or ending a sequence in the timeline.

A = A … Being told that A = G or A = M or whatever best fits someone’s agenda…. you question your own sanity. (28-Jan)

If you have to hear it enough.

I’m not a super hero. I’m as human as you. Please don’t expect me to be some flawless expectation, some character from your imagination.

And just because you have tunnel vision into the most secret parts of who I am and what I feel, doesn’t mean you have the whole picture.

#wtfdidntsignupforcombatinWWIorQUANTUMLEAPsowhythefuckamIevenbotheringwiththisextremelylonghashtagfornoreasonbutasametaphor (28-Jan)

I feel washed out, so hence the current Avi. I don’t know about you all but hearing that vandals and looters are desecrating history? (29-Jan)

It was Romain Rolland who wrote vehemently about how abhorrant this kind of desecration is during the start of WWI, in August 1914

“…Louvain is now no more than a heap of ashes–Louvain with its treasures of art and of science, the sacred town!”

“…by what name do you want us to call you now since you repudiate the title of barbarians? Are u the grandsons of Goethe or of Attila?”

“Are you making war on enemies or on human spirit? Kill men if you like, but respect masterpieces. They are the patrimony of human race.”

Find me here — somewhere between memory and the daydream — softly lapping upon the shoreline — lying beneath the wake of a beginning (#gwV)

Or drowning in the wake of the end

#Uncle

#HOWL

Fractured away with the sand — into the deep — into the darkness — swallowed among weathered stones — no limbs to fight the current

Find me here — between what is real and what is nightmare — rising in your sleep, listen as closely as you can — hear me calling

Find me here — between the memory and the daydream — reach into the hollows — straight line — gently — my mind is a spiderweb

Glistening in the darkness with fresh morning droplets of dew — as fragile, as beautiful — so easily broken — so hard to define

So unlike all others — woven with its own design — falling into nothing — hear me calling — hear it echoing — thru the salty brine

I’m there in the crest — my voice among all the rest — what you glimpse for that moment — a wave folds and foams — find me there

Find me here — take me home — bring me Home — let me rest on your shores (#gwV)

feeling twice my age…so who cares if I commit, go away…EST might be the best way…to slay my conscience, leave it forgotten in sludge

Not to notice time, not to notice age, not to notice anything but nothing, vacant, sedated, rocking day after day on the front porch

Touched by nothing, feeling nothing, seeing nothing, living nothing might be better than feeling this waste

Vacant — Fried — Alive but without sin — to die and pass into the light — hope for the better then — but not now, not with who I am

#Uncle

too late

too slow

too fat

too old

too much

not enough

too human

so gross

knock me out knock me out get it over knock me out knock me out knock me out get it over knock me out knock me out knock me out get it over

knock me out knock me out get it over knock me outknock me out knock me out get it over knock me outknock me out knock me out END

knock me out knock me out get it over knock me out knock me out knock me out get it over knock me out knock me out knock me out END IT

let me go let me go let me out let me out let me go let me go let me go let me out let me out let me go let me go let me go let me …. go

let me fly

or just shoot

let me go let me go let me out let me out let me go let me go let me go let me out let me out let me go let me go let me ….

E

N

… blackout

CURTAIN (29-Jan)

#fin (29-Jan)

burned alive (30-Jan)

i’m sorry mama

i’ll always be here (#gwV)

And if I am no longer here just remember

casting my line into nothing

#gone (30-Jan)

*gurgles up from the depths* (02-Feb)

“Unbroken” (03-Feb) #gwVI

Change hovers thru the bedroom

early morning light invades

draw the curtain to pretend a little longer

block out the light

*

As if to block the day itself

lock in minutes

hold tightly

stop

change hovers thickly

wide eyes stare into the dark room

*

waiting

waiting

waiting

knowing

staring

alone and unchanged

one day,

somewhere

it’s happening

“Ephemeral”

As believing the sea ~ Pulls from shore ~ Revealing tidal pools, ripples of sand ~ soaked and bonded, clinging still ~ wide, stark canvas ~ As crossing the expanse ~ our marks ~ our indents ~ pebbles stacked like temples ~ imprinting symbols with fingertips ~ all of us ~ leaving something of ourselves ~ along our way ~ As believing the sea ~ made this canvas ~ recording our journey, patchwork panels in sand ~ Upon reaching the other side ~ from whence we came ~ each one became many ~ our masterpiece ~ so each and all smiled ~ As believing the sand holds our memories forever ~ Until someone pointed ~ see the sea ~ coming in ~ we watch as ~ it devoured each mark, indent, temple, symbol ~ As realizing the sea ~ erased all record ~ and we ~ all and each ~ looked on

Knowing ~ From whence we came ~ may as well be a dream ~ never to return again ~ never to see our home again.

FLASHVERSE I — © KHC, 2011

“Cliffwood House”

Oh little house ~ Nestled on the hillside ~ Warm spring days when fresh green leaves glow with sunlight ~ Quiet summer evenings sitting still, listening on the porch ~ gusts of wind rushing thru the flush trees ~ Returning in the darkest night to see you, little house, all alight, a beacon of respite ~ HOME ~ Oh little house ~ my HOME ~ At least, for a time, little house, you were, you were ~ Home to me, precious, most dear ~ Goodbye, oh farewell, to a House I’d loved so ~ nestled on the hillside ~ no more may I go ~ Never again see its beacon alight for me ~ instead into darkness ~ that light fading as I go ~ One look over my shoulder ~ one last glimpse but I can’t ~ my soul weeps ~ heart aches ~ no more, little house, have I a Home.

FLASHVERSE II — © KHC, 2011