jorge-antonio-lopez
American
I was born in New York and started writing poetry there just before moving to Florida when I was eleven. I have never fully stopped writing poetry. Some years were very fruitful and some were barren, but still managed a couple of dozen poems in. I am not formaly schooled in poetry. / / I fell in love with filmmaking in highschool through a good friend of mine. We entered film school together after graduating highschool. Then, after two years I abruptly dropped out to follow a more spiritual vocation. I had always been a practicing Catholic and I made a few inquires into monasticism and the Franciscan Order. I was rejected for postulancy for personal reasons. / In 2008 I self-published my first poetry collection titled VACANCY. Later I started a film review website (with my pal from highschool) concentrating on obscure horror films. www.strictlysplatter.com . Today I continue writing poetry and updating my horror film website.
On a special night,
your vocal cords held tight
by my steady thumbs.
White to pink
pink to blood red roses
with cruel black spider stems.
Fair princess pinned
beneath my weight,
god-snap rage
flickering flame
darkness regained.
A restless hateful kiss.
Thorn adorned displeasure.
My love is
your shredded flesh.
Love me like you should,
beauty filled morbid beast.
With honey
from the dragon’s skull
I cover your ******
Let’s attend to death’s
cruel whisper
in the valley of Sheol.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 3:11 PM UTC
My hot leg shakes
***** dog mud whiskers.
Moist cardboard box
houses all my barks.
The darkness of night
is much too dark;
disease, fleas and despair
like lonely rain under
street light with broken lamp.
Growling demons prowl
with death-eaten distorted
leprosy masks, and a red eye
to ****
I consumed my street.
In the gutter
stars got caught in my throat.
My fur, like a prostitute’s ****
stinks of strong *****
I lay down and I won’t
get up to run,
or ****
or smoke.
Out here the dumpster
claims the soulless.
Torn apart unnaturally-
pierce, shred, peace.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 3:08 PM UTC
It is now apparent
that the fears
that stalk onward
and the tears
that chop and choke
each night
are cast upon
a helpless prey.
Nor hero, nor victim,
but circumstance!
And the slow progression
of inadequate proposals.
On the killer’s blade
I’m perched as humble –
as ****** youthful beast.
As **** as the fibers of
my being exposed before God.
What have you done
my sweet fulfillment?
I am trampled to death
and here at my masters feet
I can do nothing but sleep.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 3:07 PM UTC
I sat on God’s face
and he did not move.
My **** seeped
into His mouth
and it bit like a sharp
silver fork under the tongue.
Dire seasoned saliva.
His eyelashes like
golden kings.
A thousand horses ****
as one out
from His nostrils.
Naked I am a gnat
on the white of His eye.
These demons are thoughts
that are hidden and
pull from below
with sweaty
child-like hands.
If I could forget
as far back as life began
where God was God
Heaven was nowhere
and there was nothing
undone.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 3:06 PM UTC
Romantic arson,
a thousand lovers burning
to the blooming flowers
of my accelerant:
amoral, senseless rage.
Because I do not
or will not consider
another vice
for your confessional.
Come shed indifference.
Thumb the holy water font.
Theorize inconclusive evidence
of life apart from love.
Crawl into
the vacant church
which is my heart.
Idolize Me.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 3:05 PM UTC
Fullness ‘neath a clear blue sky
Fullness in the stark sunshine
Fullness lost in autumn night
My heart is full of Your delights.
Aether sings the fullest song.
Its lungs exhale the stars along
their course of fire, ice, or storm
proclaiming life as gift of Love.
Beauty perfect, Beauty true,
paint my soul in golden hue,
string my heart, a song to sing
the fullness of a perfect hymn.
Grace of which to God belongs
You can also sing a song.
In the heart of man awaken
sounds to guide our soul to heaven.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 3:03 PM UTC
I miss the broken glass
opening my anxious flesh;
the bite and burn of the blade.
A constant, certain fear evolving …
the marriage of *** and darkness.
I peel away
the withered.
pink and moist
beneath glowing eyes.
The night settles.
God cannot speak
to me any longer.
I am not afraid now,
(but I tremble in the grave.)
I cannot ask for
what I will destroy.
I beg you to erase my life
because I can’t seem to
suffer enough
or love a little.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 3:02 PM UTC
When I see her face
I don’t get an ********
But something in my gut
yearns to be held by her.
If only I could spend my life
understanding her face.
In time I would
uncover God.
Instead I am afraid
and I do get an ********
I smear her lips with brine
smudge dark honey
under her eyes.
How do I orchestrate ******
accompany **** with a melody?
When the sun comes
she is marked.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 3:01 PM UTC
Dishonorable disaster.
Underwater moon knows
but does not speak of doom.
Shed your clothes
and come with me child.
Come down here with me.
Cannot inhale
where she dwells.
Dead sludge mouth
grows inside. All swells
and long swallows kills
me to the ocean floor.
The end of depths;
she still controls there.
My stretched regrets
God does ignore
and I swell more.
Her all can devour
in many ways
this walking corpse.
I close my eyes
and eat myself.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 3:00 PM UTC
I see the glaciers in the sky
from my deathbed on the ground.
If the sunrise is a smile
I’d give my heart to see it.
A night without it’s stars
comfort those who fear it.
And I am nothing more than smoke
rising from the clearing.
The nature of my wrath
is as strong as the pain I feed it.
And I’m never far from death
because I’m in love with it.
If tomorrow you are gone
I will take my gifts to heaven
and plead to see your face
through the clouds of my unknowing.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 2:58 PM UTC