Saint Audrey Jan 4

I can hardly get my head straight, and between every single
Tone, I readjust the cases, straitening the lace
Binding up the loose ends, mending every one and
Creating strait spaces, borderline alone

Indulgence over emotion, I don't have my own

Add a fifth, and once again to make six
The circle begins closing in, closer and then too close
How many sides there are, to a pint of gin
Are there more mixers in a little bit of sin?

Its my disparity

Something I choose; suffering disuse
And a lack of caring
I'm just a branch on another tree
Losing the last of my leaves
I feel the wind running through my hair
I swear, it's blowing just for me
I've seen the face of god staring out the fucking monitor
I've seen the wrath of many more, more, fuck it
I'm done
I still speak profanely but only on occasion
When I stop to rest, from the rest like I've been vacant
And the break is all I have, before I fade away in chambers

The scent of lavender light permeating my eyes
Draining through the veins and inflaming the day dream spattered
Doesn't matter

The days where hate is the mode of operation
Now, yes. Now, no
Blown out of proportion, maybe so, but I've been alive a while
And I'm still only a couple old
I've been overlooking so many things
In single words, I frame identity
The wind is blowing through my bones
In simple thoughts, and tragedy
And he told me, take a second for yourself now and then
Pen and paper permit magic beyond a mere existential crisis
Might be something to find amid strands of loose light
Find a new light, bright enough to conquer demons, but
Success is still your metric in the meantime

Fine, enough
But, I can fabricate well enough to get
Everything I need from something not enough
I even lose myself sometimes

But that's the point I guess
Another time gone by
another moment well defined

I use the same words, same works, same letters
I take the same lessons from the ones bound and fettered
To the cause, of making minds
Fun enough to pass the time
Long enough, oh god damn
Its almost...
If you follow my silver spool
I think I left too soon, if memory serves me
Too true for my own good
And the wind blows through my gilded skin
And I watch the moon rising


I knew you’d be there without confirmation
I felt the tingle
I felt the sensation
I smelt your aftershave and
Without hesitation I condemned myself to damnation

I watched you stride down the nave
Watching you was a violation
A violation of my promise
To be faithful, honest and true
But, I can’t keep my pledge,not with you.

I quietly follow
Beyond the curtain I go
I sit and breathe deeply
You, Wood, and incense fill my heart
“Bless me Father for I have sinned. I'm in love with you”

00:12 GMT
Kevin Hamilton Nov 2017

Saw ghosts in the cornfield
And stole their gold
Spilled blood
Beneath the moon

Let them come for me
From the shadows
Of lesser beasts
And greater treasures

I'm tired of waiting
With my hands
Pressed against the door
Of my mortal coil

Let them drag me away
Milk-white and worn
Ancient marrow

I will go blissfully
Into the dark.

Bryan Oct 2017

I had a second chance at heaven
And I threw it all away.
I once again felt my happiness
Sour into hate.
On this page are the words
That exemplify my rage.
I once was great
But now I'm lost,
To this misery and pain.
My path: a fog, through trodden dirt
To a cemetery gate.
For what dark fate
Does this soul
So very anxiously await?

My boots are caked with mud.
The smell of iron permeates,
Along with moss, the smell of dirt,
And most certainly decay.
Never mind my mortal soul...
What kind of demon lies awake
In the midst of human fruit,
Over-ripened in the day?

The splitting corpses seem to beg me,
"Stay away, stay away!"
Burgeoned fruit spills forth,
As the rinds peel away.

The tortures yet continue,
Testing will and sanity.
Stumbling forth into the mixes,
Pestilences use the meat:
Fruits of flies spill their guts
Under muddied, weary feet,
And in the soup, in the gore,
Coagulation races feast:
Clots of blood battle vermin;
Scabs crunch like autumn leaves.
To this yet, there is more
On this journey I have seen:
Fire burns, and humans shit,
And mix the ashes in the breeze.
What soulless cur,
What kind of beast
Inhales with pleasure
When he breathes?

Smoke and fire burn the horizon.
There is nothing left of peace.
To the camps I was swept,
In the tide of the deceased.

Hard at work in heat,
Tattered and flayed meat
Toils in agony,
Swinging hammers in defeat.
Blood-slickened handles
Slip from fingers weak:
Wood and metal sings
At worn and weary feet.

Rusted chains sling,
Slicing through the heat,
Slicing through the smoke,
Slicing through the meat.
In the distant, murky background,
Drums of war greet,
As flesh and bone and flame
Dance to the beat.

Chastened bones respond,
Breaking stones in the beyond.
The work of hell waits
For no man very long.
Gangs of chains tag along,
Making quite the fiendish song,
As the billions in the lakes
Add their agonies to the throng.
The shrieks of charred lungs,
And throats ruined long,
Build the thickness of the air:
An anguished plague of smog.
Keep the fires burning;
Add another human log.
Respite is just a word,
An idea like winter frost:
Once before, it had purpose,
But now, its meaning, lost.

Abandon hope, is what they say...
But not for very long.
In the fire, in the rock,
They find their words are gone.
... Long forgotten, but for the lyrics
Of the Devil's favorite song:
A timeless tune, that my soul
Had been singing all along.

Bryan Oct 2017

Weighed down,
And buoyed up simultaneously.
Life does that sometimes:
It ties balloons to your feet.
Gray, iron balloons
To hold you down.

Dangle desire in front of me.
Sway it side to side.
Hypnotized me with charms,
And convince me that I'm happy
Just the way I am:

Bryan Oct 2017

Rise and make haste
To the display of human waste!
Stand amazed at the hate
That I deserve in my disgrace!
I have taken
What is precious,
And I've given it to waste.
I destroyed
What is dear
In a fit of sightless rage.
This scrabbled page
Is all I have
From our halcyon days.
I know for sure,
That forever,
Life will never be the same.

I am ashamed.

I have completely  lost  hope now!
I am  totally beyond salvation!
The Devil
Has become my Guardian.
He whispers to me
In my sleep
As  satanic hallucinations
Possess me in my dreams
All my virtues
Have been auctioned off
To prostitutes and addicts
In exchange
For their hunger and craving.
The  Road to Perdition
Seems infinite to me now
Like an Empty  Salt Pan Vista,
But no  church will accept
My pleas for repentance.
The thoughts  in my head
Have become so incorrigibly
Vulgar and crude
That I have overshadowed Hitler
In my lust for blood, desecration and annihilation
My mind has become possessed
By a cannibalistic phantom,
Which consumes the vitality
Of all who cross my path/
The Gates of Hell
Have opened wide for me to enter
But the Gates of Heaven
Now look  like the Gates to a Gated Community
I am being excluded from God's Kingdom
Due to the defiled nature
Of my Soul.

Khayri RR Woulfe Jun 2017

Years ago, before I got hitched, I had lunch with my gf on Valentine's Day at a renown steak grill.

Cute waitress sat us on a table and took our orders.
After a few minutes,
she came back carrying the sizzling steak.
Borne more out of famish than anything else,
I exclaimed,
"Wow. Smells good!"

To my elated expression,
the pretty waitress replied,
"Tastes better than it looks, sir."

"Oh yeah?"
She mused,
We cook it with love po, sir."

Fast-forward 5 minutes later.
I called the waitress back.

Showing her the teppan of bloody beef,
"Sobrang hilaw yata pag-ibig niyo, miss."

I am a book
written on pages
made from the skins
and flesh
of sacred sinners,

bound by the bile
and discharge
of their entrails,
knotted together
by their vacuous veins;

covers glossed
by their fat and tears,
adorned with
their evergrinning teeth,

by their boiling grimace,
with the bliss
of their anguish death;

their bones
used as quill,
its brush
their hairs,
their blood
its ink;

the tales
of their agonies

04 June 2017

Free Verse

© Khayri R.R. Woulfe. All rights reserved.
Jerrad Johnson May 2017

She’s lost, though here – already gone
When you embrace her, you embrace the air
Who she is, who she was – what does it matter?
Her laugh is a memory, her presence helps not
She was never here, it’s just an illusion
We tell ourselves: she’s really here!
Be that as it may, she wills to not.
She was born the slave of another
Loosen the reigns? He will not.
Though you try, though you cry,
Your prayers fall on deaf ears – so it seems, anyway
Your God is listening, but forces none
She must see, she must believe
She can’t see: she’s fading away
Though here, she’s really not.
‘Tis a memory, she sees it not.
She races to and fro, she loves and shares
Yet living, she’s certainly a ghost
For what is her existence but a memory?
Though she’s now, soon she’s past
Forever gone, forever lost
A creature made in the likeness of her creator,
Made to be, rather than be not
She chose to not, she chose to live
But wouldn’t see in living, she was really not
Now you have eternity to forget:
She was there, though she was not

From my book, "Aimless Wanderer"
Afiqah Apr 2017

the bitter truth is,
my insecurities have always been
a little too loud
cracking through every
little crevasse
that left me on swings
so I won’t be easily trapped by
my own insanity

but seems to me,
one can never fairly break out
without annihilating such damnation
that has stormily detonates
one’s becoming

so don’t say a word
or even let out a sigh
but watch me
as I swan into alleys, trusting
only the devil’s hands now
to bring a silent cheer
to this almost heart


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