With hearts sublime, they do take flight.
Into the darkest depths of night.
Their weapons readied, set to fire,
Their footsteps silent through the mire
The trap is sprung, the enemy caught.
And through the dismal night they fought.
Blood spattered the starry skies.
And with it poured countless lies.
The blood-red sun rose across the plains,
There were too many losses, and too little gains.
And with their hands bloodied, and their uniforms singed,
A Battle has been won--and a War now begins.
And as they left the battlefield,
The wind seemed to whisper to the remaining some;
Injustices left alone and undone--let them end you,
One. By. One.
But these words did not stir them, and not too late,
Those fearless soldiers finally met their fate.
And with their chins held high, they marched into war.
It was kill, or be killed, and nothing more.
And they were, one by one, struck down with cruel blows.
Slaughtered mercilessly, while mocked by their foes.
And as their lives ebbed away into the soil below,
They knew there was one last code left to follow.
Then the night was filled with the thrums of song,
As they hummed their last words, smiling all along.
Their words slowly faded, heartbeats gradually died,
As their spirits soared into the Heavens On High.
"I've served my faith well, and that is my relief,
I've filled the hearts of each child with belief.
And as my soul finally fades away into the skies,
I know blessed are those who believe, for indeed they shall thrive."
And the old general sat, as he'd often do.
And pondered in thought, over who had served who.
Then his eyes swelled with tears as he realized the truth.
"They died not just for their country, but for us too."
His sad red eyes closed as tears fell to the floor,
"They lost the battle, but their peace was restored."
With army cap in his lap, and a quill pen he bore,
He wrote the first tales of those brave men before:
A cruel Jack Frost blows icy floss
(in front of spring a’ burstin’)
While swirlin’ sheaves of withered leaves,
near freezin’ streams a’ thirstin’.
A pack reviled is roamin’ wild,
a wakin’ wolf is howlin’,
He scents a lean and lonesome scene,
while on the lurk and prowlin’.
With spangled bolts, white clouds revolt,
and starry skies start closin’;
A wild goose soars beyond death’s doors,
the naked moon sits posin’;
Electric shafts (on fractured rafts)
sail night’s cathedral caldrons -
A frenzied burst, the herd’s dispersed
in random splayed and sprawled runs.
A she-wolf’s eyes with famine cry,
the ancient wolf is bayin’,
With weary back, he’s lost the track,
his bandied legs betrayin’.
The brood’s somewhere in shrouded lair
with she-wolves left to mind ’em -
The wolf, a’ drag with empty swag,
is on his way to find ’em.
The pack rejoins with weary loins,
they sense their days are numbered.
In evening’s night, he’s feeling tight,
with aches and pains encumbered,
And standin’ near, with shaggy ears
(one droopin’ down, hung over),
He’ll set the course with renewed force,
because he’s still the rover.
Soon snow enshrines the timberlines
the bear’s are sleepin’ under,
And young, lupine, they’ll stifle whines,
as gullies fill with thunder;
With echoes in the mouth o’ death,
they bid farewell the lair
While panting puffs o’ crystal breath
float, hanging in the air.
As dusk regains the snow-bound plains,
the sinkin’ sun’s a’ hissin’,
Their path is black (they don’t look back),
the herd’s long gone a’ missin’;
Neath northern lights, with barks and bites,
he keeps ’em all in motion -
The speckled scars of fallin’ stars
betray the night’s emotion.
The sky is blushin’ in the east,
and hollow wind’s are sighin’
While buzzards freeze in gallows trees,
a’ sittin’ still and eyein’.
These ghouls of prey, they’re spooked away,
like tumbleweeds a’ blowin’,
By tilted head, white fangs tipped red,
and warnin’ wail’s a’ growin’.
With muzzled growl and shriekin’ howl,
the wolf’s outstretched, defendin’,
His snout upturned, and moon discerned,
he’s whiffed a waft a’ wendin’;
With fragrant hint, the wolf’s a’ sprint,
the pack begins t’ rally,
With swift descent he’s on the scent,
a’ flowin’ down the valley.
The pack moves on behind the dawn,
the wolf beyond horizon;
A she-wolf vets his silhouettes
each time she lays her eyes on.
On trek discreet, a track is beat
across the rivers frozen -
When day’s complete, just ice to eat,
a choice that’s often chosen.
A stillness jeers the shaggy ears
(one droopin’ down, hung over),
Where caribou are scratchin’ through
and seekin’ blades o’ clover;
The wearied pack picks up the track,
with stony stomachs pangin’,
’Tween barren trees beyond the seas,
with ice like daggers hangin’.
The wolf, though white, still hounds the night,
the pack stays close behind ’im;
The caribou, in his purview,
seem far too far to mind ’im;
Above, a baleful moonbeam wails,
“oh god he’s gonna’ catch ’em”
The scene is grim, the Reaper dim,
the night has gone to fetch ’im.
A moanin’ mynah’s cryin’ loud,
a wide-eyed owl’s a’ screechin’
A bird of prey’s a’ prayin’ proud,
a raven bird’s a’ preachin’;
The wolf, unrushed, is breathin’ hushed,
his hollow eyes a’ narrowin’
And focused hard in fixed regard
on herds they’ve been a’ harrowin’.
The morning breeze begins t’ freeze,
the branches break in silence,
A poundin’ storm, a haggard swarm,
like hurricanes of violence;
The herd’s surprised and paralyzed
all over hell’s half acre -
The leadin’ buck’s run out of luck,
he’s soon to meet his maker.
The old wolf creeps, the old wolf leaps
on prey he’s been a’ trackin’ -
A deer adorned with branchin’ horns
is torn by beasts attackin’.
The morning quakes, a shadow shakes,
some antlers left a’ lyin’,
And spattered spots and scarlet clots
repaint the point o’ dyin’.
A magpie flies with frightened eyes
(on ebon wings a’ wavin’),
Spies wolfin’ jaws and sated maws
of wolves no longer cravin’.
The snowdrift clears, a cool wind veers,
a dying breath, moreover -
A wraith appears, with shaggy ears,
(one droopin’ down, hung over).
Dawn’s sunbeams crowd and streak a cloud,
(its threaded strands are weavin’).
The pack awakes and twists and shakes,
for soon it’s time for leavin’;
It’s cold and chill on shallow hill,
the she-wolf comes a’ nuzzlin’,
The sky is shrill, the wolf is still,
the pack stands back a’ puzzlin’.
On crimson snows neath perchin’ crows,
the pack still stays a’ guardin’,
The nights are tight with Harpy kites,
the she-wolves wait an’ harden,
Until a groanin’ blizzard stones
the barren forest ..., stowin’
The shaggy ears, beside a weir,
neath icy hails ’a blowin’.
The storm abates and terminates,
the glacial wind’s subsidin’;
The past is past or passin’ fast
and life goes on abidin’.
The herd, today, is far away,
not thinkin’ of the dyin’;
The pack’ll stray from day to day,
’a stalkin’ hard and tryin’.
As spring sneaks forth upon the north,
They’re lean without a leader.
The she-wolf (bound with belly round)
strains neath a budding cedar.
Upon the morn a whelp is born,
who’ll soon be takin’ over
Unchained frontiers ..., with shaggy ears,
(one droopin’ down, hung over).
A pregnant lass with eyes of glass has never learned to cope.
Once set adrift her fall was swift, she slid a slipp’ry slope -
She casts the Curse, the Holy Verse, and shoots a shot of dope,
And stalks discreet Asylum Street her daily horoscope -
The stray was struck by random truck which was her only hope.
Well, Banjo Boy, with little joy, he strums her life entire:
“The wayward waif was never safe; her stars were dark and dire.
Born midst the rues and avenues where lack and want aspire
Where no one heeds the childish needs that little ones require;
Where faith survives in tempest lives, a swirl within the briar,
Infinity grinds as time unwinds, until the winds expire.
Her last caprice? The final peace that no one could deny her -
Whipped by the flood, stray beads of blood are spattered on the spire;
Though beads of sweat are cool and wet, cold clotted blood is dryer.”
Though broken there, she’s fled the snare with dying thoughts serene.
And now she’s dead, the rumours spread: “her age? a sweet 16,
With child, unwed, her soul dyed red, her body so unclean.”
A place is sought where she can rot, avoiding churchyard scenes,
In limey pits, as well befits, behind forbidding screens;
And all the while a dirge is styled on tattered tambourines
Which echo through the human zoo in valleys of the Queens.
Without rejoice, in hissing voice, near soil that’s seldom trod
“In pious role, God bless my soul”, was mouthed with mitred nod,
Neath scarlet trim with black, and grim, behind a robed facade -
“She’ll burn in hell and sulphur smell”, spat Priest and man of god.
Well, angels sweet with cloven feet, they sing in girl’s attire,
But Banjo Boy, he’s playing coy while chanting in the choir:
“The clueless search within the church to find what they desire -
Beyond the nave, a gravelled grave, the final Rectifier”
And when he’s through, without ado, he stacks some stones nearby her.
Now it becomes important,
the correct look,
not a hair, swash of colour
on her cheek
out of place,
the right shade
to press, tentative,
against his lips,
when will it be she asks,
Phase one is complete.
Like is now lust,
not the other one, no,
they come in droves
like flies to a young corpse,
doodles in the margin,
of whimsical thinking,
you, a new apple
waiting to be bitten,
feel the luscious crunch
into the core
of post-seventeen years.
The ones before
that is what they
want to see, yes?
Let clichés multiply
spread like eczema
over every thing
you call your own,
rows of x’s and o’s
just to show
you do care,
in a fizzy pop
sort of world.
All is a rush,
spattered with sugar
but dangerous flames
they’ll have you
if you tumble
in those heels.
will devour you whole,
escape, not likely,
this is how it is,
this is how it will be
through bad spots
at the bottom of a bottle.
Now, this next one is on the house.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time - may be edited a slight amount in the near future.
I do not mourn long Mondays--
Wednesday is gone before I
blink back an astonished Tuesday, and
at twenty-four already
I see my mothers hands sliding
across the page
That same scrawl following tip
of the exigent pen
Nervous mind idly stroking
That which is aggravated swells
inflamed. Like a
canker sore deep in
the inner cheek
The tongue rolling and probing,
absorbed by each sour pain
Carefully plotting little volcanoes across
the slick terrain
They burst like purple pomegranates
pounding spattered cement
on mild fall evenings
So do people sometimes
Through tectonics of the brain
Those which could be minor psychological
blemishes roar to life. Shifting
vast emotional plates
behind a cool gaze
People hurl carelessness at on another
like schoolyard boys
chucking helpless frogs at
jagged stone walls
Ignorant of life's high price
And though horrified-- I
Can not look away.
Eyes bulging, blown out anuses spewing
pale intestines slick with blood-- I
can not look away.
Each giddy chimp, feces
Proudly flung-- I
do not look away.
My heart swollen hungering for
that emptiness called humanity
Mostly pretense, mostly solitude, mostly cruelty,
All personal gain!
Meanwhile, brothers and sisters,
have you considered the fate
of your everlasting soul?
I didn't think so
Glassy eyes stare
beseeching from bathroom mirrors
Tear-stained cheeks belie
a quizzical half-smile
I will meet that insecure gaze
promising to seek my own perfect
No longer guilt ridden and ashamed
I will hold the reflected stare aloft
with my own true eyes
and I swear-- I
will not look away
Beds moaning in a give and take
some sort of car crash outside, morning’s roadkill
people choking on their breath during sleep.
I exhale words I do not mean to say then swallow them up again
just battered croaking –
all these sounds spattered like a Victorian print.
I feel the air of another person whistling on my backside:
he will climb vines to get in my bed and eat me.
I hear night-noises, and that is what I think,
there are cannibals at the sill
big green tree-looking men who fit me whole in their stomach.
My bedroom, like a cupboard
and me the same, we open without a key.
Across the street
there has to be a factory of some sort
where women are put into jars for jam and their skin’s the toast –
they get pregnant by ear. One hundred decibels
given by my father’s snoring moustache
and fifty for an orgasm that causes leopard print sheets.
Then, I am in a dream in which
someone large holds me
closer than a criminal, but we just ballroom dance.
Then, I open those eyes again
and dogs bark in southern accents
and my house sweats from a nightmare
and the hour hands me sandbags
and wives finally get to pawn the rifle for thousands
but not before I hear a shot.
Blood spattered across the street.
Windows shattered blocks away.
People run past me and try to get away from the terror.
But even more people go TO the scene.
They want to help.
But for some,
It's too late...
World flags blow in the wind.
High above the horrendous scene.
They continue to blow and keep their colors.
When the rest of the world seems to be crumbling to the ground,
The flags stay where they are.
Even when people cry out in pain,
Or spill every last drop of blood they have.
The flags will always remain...
While crazy people continue to drop bombs on the innocent,
And set fire to the things that we hold close to our hearts and history,
The flags will continue to wave gracefully.
lipless kisses through the receiver
before we bounce the mattress
pretzel twisted legs
loose, wet fists
agony to reminisce
all the cooing calls
ruddy faces, exploring paws
calm before the abrupt squall
that left me drenched
standing not quite short
but less than tall
all bets about the weekend
some passionate plunder you got there, mister
I’m just a jacked car stereo that won’t stop talking back
you’ll turn me back on when that little Swedish dishwasher’s motor breaks down
you stole me from my sea
I’d blunder down under with Sebastian & the red-head
if someone would give me my damn ocean back
I got what I came for, you tack on
to the last transmission I get
watch you roll back in & right back out again
with the spontaneous rain & thunder
that hits us when we need the moisture most
but we don’t ever want it
watch me soaked in this month’s atmosphere
roll away & split asunder
double socks, gloved knuckles
extra vodka & candy canes
leave behind a trail of red & green ribbon
that I tried to strangle myself with
usual December attire
heading out for grapefruit juice
to add some color to my ashen skin
watch the deer head to the hills
everyone runs for the hills these days
it’s black & cold & the only light rivaling the stars is me
I’m fucking lit like the town Christmas tree caught fire
this town’s rumpus as faint as a deaf choir
life creeps so slowly over the placid flatirons
heroic in their stature& foreboding cape of snow
do they also petition to defrost by self-immolation
or is that just the juice talking?
you once told me you would box a moose at the top
if that’s what it took to prove your strength to me
I pulled out a clump of charcoal colored eyelash
& shook my head when I heard my God whisper
if you are stuck on that mountain
& your only chance of survival
is this man leading you down the trail
lest you die of starvation
but your other option is to watch that body flail
bruised & broken & impaled on that beast’s antlers
left stoic like a blood spattered boulder
frozen & red
like a gun to the temple, God, that’s a no brainer
I’ve been dead since we got here
you turned to me & grinned
my smile’s shaped like a shovel
someone call the coroner
I’d let that moose win.
alone & crushed
By the evil around me
In unfamiliar lands
In deep dreams of despair
Where no one
Was reaching for my hand
Where I could not stand
I have lost
Sqaundered & regretted
But no more
I am found
Not by those who love me
Not by those who don't
i have found me
I had to stop seeing
The darkness first
I had to concentrate
With everything in me
To find the light
I've had to run the race with demons
To win me back
From the despair
And child did it want me
It tried to keep me
Promises of no pain
the despair snatchedme
With lies that I better right there
It promised me an ending
To the evils placed upon myself
All its promises
Were only to entice me
To suffer more
it was loves lil light
That pinhole peeked thru
Loves light spied in mine eye
Even when it closed with tears
Thru it love shined
And when I
Raised my head
From the evil
That had my grasp
Thru loves light
Spread over me
Lifted me thru the despair
The tar the evils
Spattered me with
Thru such very small words
I heard them
In my deafness screaming
"I need her life, to continue on,
I need you to shine"
Thru loves lil light
Pinhole in mine eye
I saw the tiny hand
That pushed thru the despair
As if it were only air
Holding me there
And when loves hand
I felt all the people
And the ones still out there
Then loves hand
Touched my face
And reminded me of my own
Beauty that the world
Was desperate for me to share
I remember this time in my life
The blood on the floors
Empty pill bottles scattered
The tears of pain
And the screams
Oh the screams
I remember them clear
I tremble even now
From that time
I fear its grasp every second
Mostly because I dont know
Exactly how it got
a hold of me
Love has no longer
Let me be scared
Love has brought me thru
Loves pinhole of light
To shine in your eye
To make you aware
I'm desperately holding
out mine hand
Thru your despair
Thru your pain
Thru your loss
Thru love saving me
I did not know then
Thru love I was brought
To reach Thru to you
What saved me
I love and I care...
Your soft white back
is spattered with a freckle-constellation.
You're pretty - the long tangle of your hair smells sweet
spread over the pillows, a dishevelled waterfall -
the ends get in my mouth.
I'll curl myself against you like a child
seeking comfort (well, that's a simile as true as the stars)