Apocalyptic-Bob

Niles D McDonald

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Mention by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Literature

Mention

Mention Woody Guthrie, an honest man, with a thought to sing. An acoustic figurehead, whose every lyric brings a knowing smirk to the face. Mention the educated angst of Langston Hughes, whose simple poetry made the darkest truths of the wrongness of the world, shine brighter than the torches of a lynch mob, before the most wool-eyed racist. Mention Hunter S. Thompson, the Anti-Rove, a drug-addled journalist, who grasped for truth, but instead found the trousers of politics, and bit down, like a mad dog, and didn't let go. Mention Shays' Rebellion, which found, and died to fight, the end result of corporate greed. Mention

Two Nights Out of Jersey by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Literature

Two Nights Out of Jersey

Two nights out of Jersey and I still haven't slept, two days I've driven, one hand, constantly clutching the wheel, the other, the Renaissance hand, crushing the empty can of caffeine, and sugar, and god knows what, or balancing the end of a burning cigarette, or, performing the various tasks and rude gestures needed to drive. My ankle and wrist beg for rest, while my eyelids fight a losing battle with gravity, threatening to run me off the road. My body protests, but I push on. I'm fleeing my demons, I'm chasing my dreams, and I'm

Social Responsibility by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Literature

Social Responsibility

Having a great job, fitting in, acting calm, cool, and collected, as the tedious walls of nine to five, close in to crush us beneath unfathomable debt, Fuck it. Being normal, being nice, being all that we can be, judged by those who measure, the distance from the abyss, by how similar they are to us, Fuck it. Working here, shopping there, living around the holy altar of normalcy, afraid to notice the falsity,

Out of Order by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Subway Panhandeller by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Literature

Subway Panhandeller

A cracked smile meets my eyes, a strained mask of happiness, cracking like a dam, with shame. The toothless grin changes, and a man, powdered in more dust than the Queen, begs me for what I can spare. What he claims is unimportant, for he suffers, ignored or shunned by all, mocked by adults, harassed by police, feared by children, while trying to find a bite. He doesn't harass, and leaves if asked. I move for my pocket, and his eyes light up. As he leaves, perhaps to find food, he is joyful, and I begin to cry.

Break by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Literature

Break

Break free, break loose, break out! Leave your apartment and your friends, the walls and bodies locking you into your feux happiness, blocking the sun's honest light. Break free, break loose, break out! Leave your job, your home, and the billboards and bus ads which scream: “Pay no attention to the World around you! The World is a dangerous place, full of bad people, who want to hurt you. Stay where you are, where you are safe, and happy, with all the stuff you could ever want!” Break free, break loose, break out! Open your eyes, the World is a terrible place, full of hurt and evil, of death and pain,

Hitching It by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Literature

Hitching It

Prologue I had decided, against the will of my instincts, to kill myself. I hadn't been engulfed in the maws of grief, nor did I suffer from a strange need to right things. I didn't particularly care about the state of the dollar, or modern politics, or society. Even the death of my brother in the second tower ha

Afraid by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Literature

Afraid

I've braved dark waters, angry skies, and the empty conversations of wilting minds of Americans. I've lived through minimum wage, the new depression, and the cataclysmic pollutants. People, time, and governments have tried to end me. Yet I was not afraid. I've survived live games of Frogger in the Lincoln tunnel, African summers, Russian winters, Christian writers, and midnight strolls through the Harlem projects. I've lived in Montrose, Watts, and Compton. Yet I did not fear, while the gang bangers ghetto blasted, the bullets flashed by, and the crooked cops busted in. But now I am afraid, not of a person, or a place,

Highway Enlightenment by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Literature

Highway Enlightenment

Why this feeling? As I drive through the wet, cold night, I feel an unexplainable happiness, so powerful that the cold wind feels better, the cigarette, tastes better, the flowers weeping haphazardly into the road, look better. Even the car, gently gliding over bumps and potholes, squeaking with every light tap of the brakes, seems to be a new experience, especially the darkness filtering in through the plastic filled broken back window. Was someone I know, someone I love, hurt tonight, left to rest quietly on the taciturn hospital bed, or the dark, cramped morgue box, where only the dead may rest, without br

Coder by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

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New York by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Literature

New York

New York rain falls from grieving heavens city shifts from day to night darkness dulls hard urban edges lights guard the road black pavement cast in orange rain falls from grieving heavens steam blossoms from pavement tattered silk in falling rain darkness dulls hard urban edges dark glass buildings challenge heaven rising past the darkened sky rain falls from grieving heavens streets diverge infinitely veins pumping the city's blood darkness dulls hard urban edges people pass by, absorbed in themselves, ignorant to the beauty around them rain falls from grieving heavens darkness dulls hard urban edges

Coming Home by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Literature

Coming Home

Coming Home tiny tree leaves thousands strong spin shadowy webs of orange sunlight trickling through an evening sky my back is still warm from the memory of midday the long exciting drive home Modest Mouse singing out the open windows nighttime's approaching… the cool blanket the weary so desire is starting to drape around the world I smile… I will not sleep tonight… You know the saying.

Letter to a past Love by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Literature

Letter to a past Love

Letter to a Past Love I danced in the warm summer's rain, happy for the much needed shower I'd so longed for. My clothes soaked with rain, I sat beneath my maple, watching the sky. And as I watched the raindrops dance through the night, plummeting towards earth like a dreamer weighed down with reality, I thought of you. Do you dance? Or, do you plummet towards oblivion, boiling with rage at my actions? I'm sorry. -Niles

Irish Meadow by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Infinite Black by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Literature

Infinite Black

Infinite Black dark waves relentlessly pound the shore coating everything with invisible tears failing light paints the world in pail blue hues wind rides across black waves to the shore coating everything with invisible tears breaking waves call like sirens wind rides black waves to shore whistling through the trees breaking waves call like sirens beckoning to the brave on shore whistling through the trees fresh wind strums the infinite strings of forest leaves beckoning to the brave on shore water churns and froths, madly fresh wind strums the infinite strings of forest leaves the ocean stretches to the ends of the earth wa

Saturday by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Literature

Saturday

Saturday, April 28th. The green ocean shimmers in the unrelenting sunlight. We float together, over the crystalline waves, fish scrambling from our monstrous shadows. Your paddle emerges from the crystal sea, throwing sapphire droplets over your shoulder. Our movements echo behind us, our wake battling the ocean waves. You splash the clear ocean at me, smirking. I smile. We are happy.

Unrequited by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Literature

Unrequited

Unrequited My knotted stomach twists… The morning sun drifts across my bed. Birds chirp tauntingly, knowing my anguish. I contemplate the knife in my drawer. Steam billows out the opened door, stinking of cheap soap and dead grime, I dry myself, thinking of the night before. My stomach twists. The clock strikes the promised time. I wait. And wait. Minutes pass. An hour passes. I wait, patiently. My knotted stomach twists… Why won't you call? Finely, the phone rings. I pluck the bittersweet fruit, hoping. A wrong number. I shout the loudest curses of my life. The phone breaks, hammered into the countertop. My knotted stom

The Twisted End by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Literature

The Twisted End

The Twisted End Bearing your cross, you blindly jumped, from the peaks of love. Chained to your cross, I sink into the dark waters of loathing, made happy by the brush of your dead arm. As I sink slowly, I numb to your cool, dead embrace. I'm blind to your death-shudders. I scratch madly at the chain 'round my neck, and watch the peaks of love fade in the murky distance. Loathing consumes us.

Cunt by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Love by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Literature

Love

Love That feeling. It starts behind your eyes, a cold, wet, feeling. Slowly, stealthily, it poisons your smile with gravity. Your heart slows. A rift tears within your stomach. You try to cry. You try to scream. You try to act. You try. But fail. Shaking, you open your mouth to scream their name… your voice refuses to stir. Teeth chattering, you dwell on the knives in your drawer. You shiver, though the mercury's high. Their name echoes through your heart, cracking the fragile walls. Tears refuse to well at your eyes, no matter how you try. You fall to the floor, tearing at your face, questioning your sanity.

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Desire Of Man's Warm Fire by detailedillusion, literature

Literature

Desire Of Man's Warm Fire

Sat around near a bunch of liar's I sit there thinking of the drugs And the booze and the ciggarette's The distasteful things That are rejected by society's posters I came to warn long ago I tried to warn those in hiding Putting away the lighters and skins They came to be dark and turmoil And hissed at the very sight of me I believed they where consumed Consumed By the burning desire of man's warm fire I succeeded in freeing their minds Their minds where clear They had nothing to fear They looked up to me They saw me as a god As they lifted into faith And smothered my conscience They destroyed the man I was Help was no lo

Full Stomach by sinisterguffaw, literature

Literature

Full Stomach

There, the door swings both ways as if it had once been an old western saloon. But instead of a sturdy oak bar with brass rails and hand-fashioned nails is a bed. I lay there, surrounded by empty bottles. I wish for a player piano or a real door. I see the empty bottles and the chintzy wallpaper. I feel my stomach reel. I remember the night before. I regain focus and read labels. My lungs regurgitate. Three plastic bottles of pink bismuth, one half-empty bottle of aspirin, and one half-full bottle of water. I need a bartender with a handlebar mustache to tell me what to do, to make this place authentic, or to kick me the

'Teal' by RenaeB, literature

Literature

'Teal'

The voices in our heads screamed, But silence filled the air, Thinking thoughts like, "Should I do it?, Is this my chance, and will he care?" We moved in close, His eyes locked mine. I long for his kiss, For this moment in time... Our lips meet, And I feel the sensation. No longer do I wait, For sweet temptation. My knees go weak, My palms grow sweaty, I go back to the place, I've been already

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Highway Enlightenment by Apocalyptic-Bob, literature

Literature

Highway Enlightenment

Apocalyptic-Bob

About Apocalyptic-Bob

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Artist // Literature

United States
Deviant for 16 years
He / Him

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My Bio

Current Residence: Greenbank, with the folks, damn it. Stupid crashed economy.
deviantWEAR sizing preference: The biggest they have (I like baggy clothes)!
Print preference: Times New Roman 12
Favourite genre of music: Alternative
Favourite photographer: Evan Derikson
Favourite style of art: Blood splatter patterns?
Operating System: Vista
MP3 player of choice: I still only have MP2s...
Shell of choice: Crab!
Wallpaper of choice: Something with kittens...
Skin of choice: I do like Jessica Alba's pigmentation.
Favourite cartoon character: David Bowie on The Venture Brothers
Personal Quote: Cynisism is the stone on which experiance is sharpened into wisdom.

Favourite Visual Artist

Beloved Creature

Favourite Movies

Roadside Prophets

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

The Nightwatchman

Favourite Writers

Langston Hughes

Favourite Games

System Shock 2

Favourite Gaming Platform

Table?

Tools of the Trade

Cynisism, boredom, bipolarity, fingers, laptop, pen, ink, paper, eyes, ears, and muse.

Other Interests

New York, Poetry, Fiction, Alternative Music, General Oddity

Posts

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Apocalyptic-Bob

Jun 24, 2009

I'm Back (I hope)

0 min read

Well, after nearly a year of little to no contact, with an especially large gap towards the end, I am finally writing poetry again. Hopefully I can stay with it for once.

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Apocalyptic-Bob

Dec 31, 2008

What it has come down to.

0 min read

I've come to the realization that in my months of absence I have deteriorated quite a bit as a poet. Please forgive me. I no longer make any promises of updating regularly. I will when I have stuff. I'm not used to this whole living on my own thing.