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3d · 87
Low Res
At times I let the reels win,
I let the picture play.
I believe it’s a story,
A script played out by others.

At times I let the art win,
I let the paint brush away.
I believe it’s a story,
A canvas painted on by others.

At times I let the words win,
I let the pen ink dry.
I believe it’s a story,
A novel inked in by others.

At times I know the deeds win,
I let the demons stay
I see it’s my story,
A hell made for no others.
Jul 2020 · 199
M Grant Teague Jul 2020
Awake against the air.
Living in languishing lies of life

Existing outside their realms
These beached whales crave the waves

Watching from sleep stolen tears
These floating faces move without me

Without a wink, time slips by
Dazed in a dream of doubt

Where does the reality begin
And tragic nightrealms end

Deepest desires for lost love
Burn against the raging rain
Jul 2020 · 226
Dragon Worms
M Grant Teague Jul 2020
The well crumbled
The dam broke

Dragon worms of tears
Gush round riverbends
Where life has dried out
How do you explain something so vivid in a moment of sorrow?
Apr 2020 · 52
On Repeat
M Grant Teague Apr 2020
Splatter and spray
An explosion on repeat

Chilled and shiver
A barrel on temple

Each piece squishes and sloshes
Fairy dust of the soul between fingers

Gears clicks and Metal grinds,
We lock and load the final pill

It plays and runs
A never ending cycle of death.

Or is it the cycle of life?
A perfect peace in a flash.

Answers never given
From a voice forever silenced

This glitch will haunt me behind
My eyes even in sleep
Apr 2020 · 138
Cursing Angels
M Grant Teague Apr 2020
I cast you out!

It should be the other
The evil one can eat cake

You! O, being of purity and joy!
You bring hell and it’s greatest torture!

Take you wings, your master's wishes
And let me sleep.

I rage against the light!
Scream at the sun!

Take your protection, you assigned life
And let me fade.

For if I die before I wake
I pray my heart, my mind to take.

If you do the lords work
Then take the thought, leave the rest

Now in weeping I see
That this is my hell

You bring me visions
Of the heaven I forsook.
Apr 2020 · 120
M Grant Teague Apr 2020
Honestly, I weep.
Each tear fallen for the mistake
That cursed choice

I cannot sleep
Each blink flashed for the tear
That marred memory

On repeat these beats play
Marching my heart back in place
Teaching me the truth again

I have held fast
Each blast bested for the future
That putrid place

I watched aghast
Each scar payed for the crime
That ****** debt

The worst repeats today
Matching the starts lack of space
Reaching out in utter silence

No amount of words
No surpassing age
Will sunder this sadness

No amount of hope
No consuming fear
Will drive out this pain

Without… Ive been pretty
I cannot sleep and it will **** me tomorrow
Apr 2020 · 119
Darkest in Light
M Grant Teague Apr 2020
Harsh light still casts shadows,
Some never seen,
But always felt.

Darkness too often is stuck in the sight,
But the deepest I know lives in the light.
Apr 2020 · 197
A Howl
M Grant Teague Apr 2020
A Howl,
Distant but fair.
A Howl,
Prickles fine hair.

It is ethereal
It is so sweet
Repeated in time,
It follows the beat.
Apr 2020 · 155
M Grant Teague Apr 2020
Will it be empty?
Will it be cold?

Visions of choking stillness.
Visions of growing puddles.

This shared space.
This capsule of love.
This special place.

Will it scream while I dream?
Will it cry while I die?

Will we consume one another?
Mar 2020 · 64
My Socks and ME
M Grant Teague Mar 2020
Slick, slack, sock,
With a withering wandering walk.
It clings and sings,
Against the stings,
Along the fog of smog.

Fond fuzzy fluff,
Soft soothing stuff
A wiggle, a puff,
A slip, a sizzle, a *****

Legs break and shake,
The world wakes and quakes
Yet we three, are free
Against the wall and waves
Of shock.
One of the few poems I wrote that I love... thought it was time to share it.
Before you say it, yes I know. The "correct" grammer would be my socks and I.
Mar 2020 · 311
This time
M Grant Teague Mar 2020
This is the time to give:

Eyes to read
Eyes to look

Ears to hear
Ears to listen

Hands to write
Hands to create

Voice to sing
Voice to speak

Heart to help
Heart to heal

Yourself to another
Yourself for another
As we are feeling alone it is time for us to create and consume. To teach and learn. To write and read. To love and accept it. This is a gift to do what we never have time to. To speak with those left behind by our busy lives.
Mar 2020 · 58
M Grant Teague Mar 2020
Dreams have become me.
The only allowed plane.

To escape in dreams seemed lazy
I judged those that lived like this.

Take the bull by the horns.
Make destiny bow to you.

These are subconscious
These are naive.

Now dreams are where I find love
They are where I find confidence.

They are full stories
Shade from a scorching pain.

I drift and dread the dawn.
It brings shame and endless sorrow.

For a moment I can have joy,
For a minute I can be free.
Mar 2020 · 34
One door
M Grant Teague Mar 2020
One escape, one door.
Inside lies a closet.
It is dark, ***** and dank.

Not an exit.
Not a haven.
It is only a breath.

Hide without pain here
Under the concrete jugular
Among the dusty antiques.

No promises of peace
No hope of future
Only a chance at air
Jan 2020 · 74
Vomit steam
M Grant Teague Jan 2020
Drinking needles

Sneezing nails

What a meal!

Grazing glass

Snorting sand


Licking razors

Sniffing teeth

Glorious vapors we feast again!
Jan 2020 · 98
Floating on Styx
M Grant Teague Jan 2020
The words are gone yet I still dream,
Of the nights filling with color,
Laughter holding hearts open,
Passion pulling one to another

Cycles now broken
Kisses now dry
Sheets now empty
Cries not quiet nor fine

You lie on a slab of infinite tears
Your voyage is paid by love.
Tell the ferryman your body will pass
But your heart belongs here
It’s too hard to describe the truth behind this one. A great love died
Jan 2020 · 600
A Christening
M Grant Teague Jan 2020
You will be hated
Tormented through time

Importance granted
Debt to be paid

Leech, your meal will end
Not another free drop

Your abuse and hate seen
My tolerance burnt

Now listen or don’t
Your reaping has come

I will name you
Christen you:

Jan 2020 · 275
Down but not Out
M Grant Teague Jan 2020
Time to write
Time to talk

No wasted effort
No wasted breath

Dusting off
Standing up

Less trash
Less tears

This time I **** my fears
Dec 2019 · 341
Late Breath
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
With what wish would win
Soft silky sighs soaking sin?

Dirt beneath the nails
Heads beneath the hairs

With scent and with moan
With claws and with purr

Misty visage with a filled bed
Yet it could not be emptier.

How much sand can replace blood
Before life dries out and crumbles?
Dec 2019 · 482
Humanity’s Addition
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
It burns,
The decaying heart within.
It eats,
A maggot feasting eternal

Love is not a gift
It consumes
Love is not a gift
It destroys

Yet we mortal plebs
Crave it and suckle every drop from another
We hopeless vagrants
Waste away within our addictions

Curse you!
With love!

Curse you!
With smiles!

Curse you!
With laughter, *** and sighs!

Curse you!
With my dying breath.

No curses of hate can I make as I say goodbye.
Dec 2019 · 287
"Thank you 5"
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
5 till curtain
5 till my character rises again
5 till they spill my guts
5 till smiles hide death

Thank you 5
I hate you 5
A Theatre nerds dread and delight.
Dec 2019 · 199
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
Watch the wild winds of a whipsy whim
Cure for the caged coward covering care
Value validates the victim of violence
Paint pride in the presence of perturbed people
Dec 2019 · 483
Stone Foreheads
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
A wind
A ghostly breeze
Kissing stone foreheads
Before screaming
In my ear
I wrote this while visiting the memorial cemetery outside Terezín in the Czech Republic.
Dec 2019 · 121
The Prize
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
The prize
The prize
That was not the prize

There is a hot sting not to wear gold
Nor silver, nor copper, nor soft satin

There is a gnawing hunger
Not to gain,
Nor nickel.

The prize
The prize
Those were not the prize

I crave that first voice
That tongue dancing my song
Those lips kissing my ink
Those teeth chewing in ecstasy
The words I wrote
Just me
Dec 2019 · 808
Sweet Waters’ Lust
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
The rain wont come
The thirst all consuming.
Like the Earth’s jaw,
Crushing pressure
Bears down
From memories
Of sweet waters.
Dec 2019 · 195
Frozen Drizzle
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
Like a sot you cling to my memory.
No one cares to clean the grime
Building on the walls.
What a welcoming dream,
The home I offer.
The open-air travels
Through paper-thin walls
With the ease of a valley.
Drizzle, drizzle
Over me.
Ash and chalk
Mark the shape of my mouth.
A distant echo of a crack
And my arm goes numb.
Dec 2019 · 209
My Warrior Queen
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
When she blinks her magical eye,
The one that rolls and slides, It flickers a flutter a silk soft shudder,
A baby local goodbye.

The raging roars quiet
The shuffling seas foam.

This is the warrior
whom made me her king.

A ranger,
a wizard,
a watcher,
a rogue.
A queen’s amen
A king’s soft sigh.

Trigger the trusted,
the twisted,
the kind.
A quicker fault facer
with a softer inside.
No royal master
From earth is seen.

A sniggle,
a snuggle,
a snort,
a snore.
Dec 2019 · 556
Temporal Dust
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
Dust sparkles against blinking lights,
Casting their colors against empty grays.
Twinkling they quickly dissolve,
Their second of brilliance.
The mascots of this fleeting art.

The silence is filled with whispers,
Of long forgotten lines and songs.
The dead soliloquy left on the floor.
Waiting for another to warm its blood.
How many lay on this painted floor?

Colors will open caskets,
Solos will steal bright smiles
Replace them with gnawing pain
Harmony will hearken hope
Teach the *******.

Soon, the overstuffed chairs will fill
With hungry eyes ready to judge.
Tonight, they will leave gorged,
Gasping for air and looking for liquid relief.
The life coming is full and ready.

The faint sounds are building.
The actors are warming their voices.
The musicians are tuning their strings.
While I flip switches, open lines,
And brace to harness the flow.
I wrote this while sitting in a dark theatre just as house opened. I was the sound engineer for a little musical called Fun Home with 9 singers and a 15 piece orchestra.
Dec 2019 · 231
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
I want to be anything
Criminal stealing hope
Saint giving peace
Tyrant breaking skulls

Anything to vanish
To escape this flesh
Forget the trauma
Dissolve the fingerprints
Leave tears behind

Bars of nerves and veins
Walls dripping blood clots
Floors of rotting black gelatin

A bleeding heart
is neither blessing
Nor curse
Simply a purgatory
For the weak fool
Dec 2019 · 505
Nameless Gallows
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
Beauty has been murdered by my hand.
Every feature disgusts and appalls me.

I have strung my own noose,
Stepped through the loop.
I stand ready
For you
To kick
My stool

The fake world speeds communication
Yet quickly sends sin and the devil too.

I stand a ****
And a harlot
Of your sweet perfection.
Dec 2019 · 126
My Guy
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
A hero
A god
A king
Things I never will be

My place is set
My destiny cast
There is no motion
Not a fight, nor a chance

I will live
I will breathe
I will choke
I will die
As this meaningless
Vision of a guy
Dec 2019 · 118
In Isolation
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
Tongue tied with the taste of tar and turpentine.
The sugar sacrifices its sweetness against that wall in vain.
Body aches as the tasty toxins travel to places
It was never meant to touch.

Yet, I take more.
More, more, more,
Hoping that dank,
disgusting saliva
Can be washed away.
All that remains,
Again and again
Is ash.

When pressed my hairs tickle,
But perceive the distance
Of a sea from the soft source.
Even the delicate distraction of touch
On the private *****
Projects a subtle pain.

All that is wanted is the desire,
To have and hold.
Tormented and tainted
Seen as tattered and torn.
Promptly tossed away like trash.
Muffled and mangled comes
The voice of a meager modest monster
Of a man.
Dec 2019 · 447
It Rains
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
It rains
Torrents of thunder
Hitting glass

It rains
Fingers of pleasure
Hitting skin

It rains
Kisses of moonshine
Hitting earth

It rains
Monsters of terror
Hitting fear

It rains
Waves of peace
Hitting hearts

It rains
Whispers of love
Hitting scars

It rains
Colors of wonder
Hitting metal

It rains
Drizzles of clouds
Hitting hairs

It rains
Daggers of death
Hitting hope

It rains
Sprinkles of silence
Hitting drums
Dec 2019 · 445
Forlorn Song
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
She is sultry ash
In a smoky darkness.
Her voice pulls at my spirit,
Deep and seductively rattles
The chains around my wrists.
The red silk sheets flutter
In eerie circles of downlight.

Why does she hide in the shadows?

“Come to me.”
Slips that warm shiver
Up my pin pricked spine.
My breath escapes
Broken from below
Hailing the gods
Without a sound.

Darkness drips over this dream
Song is stripped from the air.
I hear nothing,
See silence,
Feel cold sweat run the length.
At a snap,
My throat is freed.
I sob.
Dec 2019 · 78
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
It is a tumor, a cancer, spreading within
It leads me to stop and quickly give in.
It is a fear, a fight, an attack without sin
It is a tumor, a cancer, waiting to begin

It is an insect, a bug, eating my skin
It gnaws, chews and swallows again.
It is a hornet, a thorn, a venom akin.
It is an insect, a bug, drinking me in.

It is a shriek, a scream, yelling herein
It wails, bellows a terrible shrill din
It is a banshee, a siren, a death grin
It is a shriek, a scream, breaking me in.
Dec 2019 · 122
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
I taste you.
The drops of your being
Sweet on my tongue

I hear you
The waves of your voice
Swirl in my ear

I see you
The vision of your eyes
Drifts in my mind

Yet there is no touch
No smell
You are not here
Nor there
You have slipped beyond
The cage
Dec 2019 · 286
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
I seem to grow in ever direction,
With new branches sprouting from every pore
They do not need the sun
To be true,
They grow faster in its absence.
My photosynthesis feeds so greedily,
It consumes light.
Yet the feast never stops, continues
With invisible source.
Light is the appetizer,
Smiles the side
With darkness bringing
Endless entrees.
Snacking smacks fill the empty air.
My skin crawls as my mold,
Spreads and consumes.
My own movement sickens me.
I am disease.
Dec 2019 · 258
Dead Fish
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
You lay there
Dead and cold

Light flicks
Dry and rough

Not a sound
Scream nor praise

What is wrong
Flaccid and limp

Hands are filth
Unwanted intruders

Shake in guilt
Truth stabbing tears
This poem is inspired by the disgusting slang "dead fish" and my own guilt for the moment I understood the cause.
Dec 2019 · 149
Crossroad Soul
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
Pitter, patter, splat, splatter.
Mad as a lost hatter.
Swirling around the voice of voice.
Where has his meaning gone?
It slipped down his throat,
Escaped having only filth.
Palms out!
Eyes closed
As his world crumbles
By his touch.

He feels the spiral of song,
Enchanting his heart with hope.
The words dig in dangerously
Criticize this soul,
But this beauty is what is left.

He dares not fight,
Craves only admiration.
Whickering comes the stifled laugh
Mocking his existence.
Another crossroad overcrowded
With souls being sold.
Like him, some so desperate
For the trade
in hopes new hell
Will be better than old.
All that is wanted is an end.
Dec 2019 · 136
Churning Curds
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
Breaking bones
A cough
Shrieking stones
A laugh

Boiling blood
A scream
Freezing flood
A dream

Churning curds
A shudder
Burning birds
A stutter
Dec 2019 · 229
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
Slip into control Satan.
Take my rising rage
And pressured passion.
It is wasted and hated
By those I entrusted.
I am standing alongside
My own corpse and it is time
Someone else used it.
I don’t remember the death
But my own magic is missing.
I need your fangs to dig deep
Seep the venom into my veins
The white purity has led to pain.
At least with you I know
That is what will come.
And It is my choice.
I tire of promises ****** in my face like salvation.
It is horseshit.
I will never rebuke God
But the toxic teachers of the church
Have led me to this tragedy.
Dec 2019 · 153
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
Chest tight
Stomach knotted
As we approach this fortress of death

So many souls
So many lost
My heart screams and I am still blind
Dec 2019 · 141
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
The distant clock ticks

There is no place as rich
With love, art, and song
Though the dust covered
These walls ages ago

This cave is home
Dec 2019 · 115
Call of the Void
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
In the silent deep I wait.
I listen for my call against the endless void of noise.
What I am waiting for I know not.
How and why I am here are equal mysteries,
that fill the lost passage of time.
I cannot know the hour nor the minute.
All that I have is the moon
lapping the surface about.
Never the solar, always the lunar face.
My body is stiff and heavy,
almost impossible to move.
My view is always the same.
These dark holes and splintered eyes
fill my soul with dread.
It never moves nor takes its gaze from me.
I cannot smell, speak nor taste.
When I try,
I cough into nothingness,
My body forcing black liquid from my lungs
Dec 2019 · 533
Blush and Bile
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
Blood rush,
Brain chained,
Teeth tied,
And here I sit

Smoking out defense

Those succulent dimples,
That clicking mind,
That husky hooking voice.
Substitutes of a hungrier passion.

I feel lost,
I want some,
I need to forget.

Obsession is unbecoming,
Unwanted internal conflict
Ripe with dead dreams
Fighting harsh realities

Simplicity is all I want,
But each day
that lie
gets harder to say.

You are living
In my space
Without payment.
Leave me, please.
Dec 2019 · 113
Breached Walls
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
The walls have a breach
The walls have a breach

Walking in my own head
Feel safe from the attacks of old
Yet there you are breaching
With eyes of pure gold

I thought it was over
I thought it was done

Why does the cage have to exist?
Why does this prison have chains?

I’m lost again.
Lost in the depth of your soul.
**** the universe that collided
Together to make us stand in
The rain.

You are leaving
I wish you were gone
The pain you give me
Is far too strong
Dec 2019 · 167
Annoying Thorn
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
Sometimes I smile being the thorn
Of the self-righteous and first born

Not sorry to ruin a few moments.
Stolen seconds from swollen swine
A brief pause gained against their gnaw.

Yell your yodel of a young victim
While your cup runneth o’er
And you greed grows

Forgive me for my moment of misstep
I feel so foolish to consider my value
In equality with the self-centered fool

Clearly here is the treasure
Your dreams of monotonous money
The perpetual pit of possessions
The incessant itch of inflation
The ceaseless clawing for cash
While I cluelessly cling
To dreams of art and time.

— The End —