Drift ever closer
ye bearer of pain.
Long to remember
life before shame.
Bound to foe's tinder
upon whore-witches name.
Hubris, rash words;
both we can tame.
Home that you seek?
Comfort that you yearn?
Come, hero of Greece
share these walls for a turn.
Leave your men to their fate
or Blame's touch you shall learn.
Wouldn't you rather know ours,
and feel pleasure's burn?
Forth wafts the scent
of lavender and wax,
untie those silly knots
come, relax...
Forget lover's face, for
your mind, it does tax.
Fool! You sail on...
To the ropes! With an axe!
Promises lost
upon ears of your crew
could've meant so much more
to the likes of you.
Float away, blind sage
our temptation is through.
Must be some kind of strength...
or some kind of fool?
Sealed In Steel
Calling card in the gutter,
free samples used as fuel.
Evermore this engine sputters
feeling heavy, a paperweight jewel.
The spiraling phone cord
relays messages, lost in thought
like wine stains on keyboards
we blot away at all were taught.
The silicon of tragedies
heating up 'stead of cooling down.
sipping from the leaking batteries
bed of nails upon the lawn.
wrapped up in denial
of our own selfish doubt
wisdom; hope, away we file
Now we have to do without.
only semblance of progress
is pointing fingers, placing blame.
Filibusters in Congress,
supposed "leaders" have you no shame?!
the proverbial coffee
is getting cold
once strong tea,
weak and old.
The water's burning
ice on fire.
butterflies churning
lack of desire
it seems only indifference
perseveres, nay: prevails.
deconstruction lacking hindrance
we ignore history's tales.
we've sealed our fate
in steel and wax
up with the shovel
down with the axe.
Black Box, Jack Box
Black box
jack box
lend me your ear
and I'll keep twirlin' despite my fear
dark box
stark box
loan me your nose
round and round the shiny crank goes
square box
dare box
lend me your mouth
I'll keep spinning till the demon comes out
ghoul box
tool box
give me your cheeks
friction from turning, burning; it reeks
whole box
soul box
lend me all of you
give me your pieces, scattered askew
and from these lost remnants;
essence of you'
I'll rebuild my body
and live life anew.
Honestly, Honesty
There’s a dose of truth
In every lie.
So up my prescription
And let’s get high.
Off of misconceptions,
Mistakes, deceptions.
That keep clouding my mind,
From that measure of truth,
I strive to find.
There’s a grain of truth,
In every fib.
So raise my dosage,
Like the doctor did.
This betrayal,
Like a jail,
Is making me frail.
So drink it down,
Or swallow it whole.
And let the fragment of truth,
Envelope your soul.
There’s a shot of truth
In every act.
So fill me up,
In between the cracks.
Flush out my sorrows
Of days long past.
A momentary rush
That never lasts.
Honestly, honesty
Is just a drug.
And I can’t seem
To get enough.
Of Pigments and Protons
The light caged in your eyes
is released, spun of glass, and
liquid in shape.
It's texture is Ethereal
and it tastes of Argon.
As Noble gases react, clash, collide.
You cry Magentas and bleed of Cyan.
But how could something so beautiful
be as barbaric as Pain?
you have a mastery of this savage
wonder, as cold and perfect as Starlight.
And I drink it, breathe it, bleed it, with every blink.
Sphygmomanometer Got Your Tongue?
The mercury clings
it's elastic film holding it together
in the moment before it unhooks
from the apex of my tongue.
As it glides, the distortions
of Silver make me see the world
not as it is but as it could be.
And in that chilled, trudging
moment, every grey glimmer
became divine in its own right:
The perfect semblance of
Black and White; Yin and Yang,
bound and blended in liquid form.
It was no longer a color..
but all Color. Every possible fragment
of the spectrum was rebounded and
reshone in that tear of Silver.
A crescent of presence, that
held all hope; all hate
in its prism
From Pen to Page to poor Men's Graves
I sit twiddling my
thumbs and
fiddling my humming
of the misquoted hymn
led by a mute choir led
by a drunk pastor led by
an abstract God.
His Words are the muses of the author
who wrote these torn out pages that fuel the
fire of protesting monks. And another one
goes up, they always go
out (and up again, this time higher?)
Funny, really.
The alcohol fires (up and out again) are
as unseeable as your God. But still you feel the heat
of both, stifling you into submission.
Both a poison, tangible in the torn out pages
that fuel the burning Heathens (out and up this
time) and the flaming Monks; all
fed from the same source, same
tap to eternal flames
Omniscient, all seeing.
Are you all hearing
too? can you everlisten to the
crackling works of arson from
whiskey and penned page? (up
and out and up) Do you eavesdrop on
the screams of babes, murdered in
Jericho? What about the sound of
the wind scattering the Ashes of the
Monks, pyromaniacs to your
cause?
Or are you just a sound youself?
Yes... I think that's
it exactly.
All you are is the sound of
lies alight, hypocrisy burning in
parchment form. The funeral
pyre of thousands murdered in
your Flame
Praise the Sage oh Humble [read as a church hymn]
Glorify, him: Yahweh
of perfect Humility.
Praise the Sage oh Humble,
Magestic God Almighty.
He loves all of his children,
but don't you fret of faith;
For to the Tribals and Muslims,
He'll close his Pearly Gates.
And Homophobes, no worries
for gays are rejects too.
as are Wiccans and Hindus,
and even the off-chance Jew.
"From the rock forgotten,
we shall build our cornerstone".
Let's just hope the same doesn't apply
to those that escaped from Jericho.
He gave his son to live to die
alone among outcasts.
He wants just the same for you
so raise up chalice and flask.
And drink to he who cleansed your sins
the day he died and rose.
but just in case, confess 'em all,
or to hell you'll surely go!
For: Ever
I thought of you as I left the waking world.
I couldn't possibly remember...
But what else would I think of in that in-between space?
It sits there, transitional, as Cotton as a Sunset remnant:
The lingering golden hues before you can declare it Night.
As Muted as a poor-placed Yawn.
The only breath we cherish, a dutiful respite
as contagious as it is comforting.
Yes...in this sigh I can smell you.
Not the sickeningly sweet perfume you doused yourself in,
nor the fragrance of your dull dry hair.
The Scent of You.
And maybe if I learn to dream,
I could even see your face.
Even...touch you.
As you touch me, as you graze everyone
(with fingertips of rose)
as everything, and every time is
For You.
Lament of an Ill-Begotten Lawn [now with less emo!
]
Saltwater springs from your goldenrod eyes
as the needle gleams, bleak and cold
as the tears streak
so slow, grudgingly
they trace
laugh lines long forgotten
I need to remember to discard those memories
as if
I don't (care at all)
maybe I'll even convince myself that
I don't (far to fall).
grass songs
low clouds seem to hover overheard
almost caught one in the gutter
on the roofline. Of this place,
a desperate excuse for a house, where our hearts once dwelled.
my lips part to say "I'm sorry"
only more derision spills like acid-rain from my tongue.
I must turn off the tap leading to my inner fire
'tis my remaining desire
before I alienate you in your final moments of full living
But where's the calm before this storm?
Not again...
It seems I've forgotten how
to spell your name.
an e or an a....
can't make a difference, my love
whats that?
It can you say?
(in your state of dependacy, almost comatose)
no, pl
ease
stay here.
one lingering moment you falter
and in the line where our eyes meet
I swear I can hear the grass singing once more.
but now you're dead to the world of
the living and only
the hospitol staff puts on the weakening facade of content (former joy).
I can't bring myself to meet the gaze
of the corner staves belonging
to this house that was once a home.
And finally, almost thankfully, I can hear the grass no more.
___________________________________________________________________
Crits aren't exactly requested
Considering the...ya know...hugeness of it...
But yeah, now hopefully you'll know a bit more about my writing style(s)
I really liked the theme and the style, I it a very good piece of work. I be waiting for more!