Ah Death.
You roared up behind me
On your crotch rocket-
Your chariot
Of metal and leather and pipes.
Dreadful,
With long black dreads
streaming behind you,
Your bones encased in bomber jacket
And greasy chaps,
and your face,
Under a helmet of sin,
A gleaming skull
Without expression.
You hung back
Until I saw you in my side-view mirror:
Hell’s angel on the burning pavement.
But I, knowing that you were closer
Than you appeared,
Pressed on the accelerator
And sped ahead,
Determined that you would not pass me.
Not this time. Not yet.
And you faded away,
Into a speck
And were gone.
Written while driving in Ohio.
Paul Carico Jun 22
From the eternal reach of sky flung stars eclipsing
The multiverse afar,
To the deepest depths of oceans unseen sights
No man may venture to seek a beauty
Like that of a women so divine.
Defined by the product of genetic perfection,
The picturesque quality of evolutionary design:
Of the moons gibbous glow,
The inner aura of your fluttering eyes
Bring me comfort on a cold winters night.
With skin, soft as silk
Tanned by the suns golden light,
Your flesh melts me back to life.
Like the lapping waves and wisping winds
Along the sands of an islands ocean shore
Your soothing tone of foreign tongue
Caresses my aching skull.

Beyond the chisel of mans mortal hands,
No surgeon may sculpt the flesh with so tedious a design:
An anatomical hourglass
Of Immaculate form,
Unseen among the flaws of humanities mistaken design.
Rambo Apr 14
I don’t know that I trust myself
To keep my brains like a raw egg
When the time comes (when I’m supposed to know what to do)
And not to crack my skull,
See my brains drip into the bowl,
Mix them up for a broken yolk,
And then pour them into the pan
So they can scram(ble.)

Sometimes I wonder
If I’ll have to salt them
or add any pepper
or just dig in.

Sometimes I hunger
To know everything
Sometimes I feel so engorged
I’d rather know nothing.

The worst part is not knowing
That the worst part is knowing.

I want to hate my own guts
But that’s--that's utterly nuts,
For it’s never the guts
Should be disdained—
It’s the yolk in my egg, or
The stuff in my brains in my head.
Rajinder Apr 6
Dark designs
dancing skulls
cover her apron,
a talisman
warding evil eyes.

Queen Meek-teka-see
rules over bones, on
Day of the Dead.

During day
swallowing stars,
at night gulping
nectar of rising sun
she spews spirits
possessed by her.

Calaveras eteched
over tombstones,
frozen candle flames,
capture souls
under black moon.

The living crawl
to her altar
offering
another skull
to the dark blue apron.
Cyndi Marie Mar 16
There's a cat living in my head
and he's redecorating.
Clawing at the sides of my skull,
tearing down the wall paper that was there.
But he doesn't seem fond of putting up something new,
just wants to leave the gouges so the pain can seep through.

He doesn't travel far.
To the back and then the front again,
but he never strays to the left.
He hugs the right wall of my head
like he'll die if he tries to leave
Just digging new trenches as he goes

When he feels really inspired
he gets a hammer and
BANG
BANG
BANG
new places that throb and throb for hours
never leaving me at peace
but he's happy with what he's created

I've been told there's a piece of metal I can get
to lock him out, keep him out, and throw away the key
some people say it worked for them and I'm just hoping
that it also works for me
I get migraines a lot. It sucks. I have one right now and I'm also sick with a sinus thing so I'm just miserable
FreeMind Feb 28
Through the broken glass,
I can see the skeleton staring at me.
"Did you give up all ready?
You were never ready for this..."
She teases me, laughs in my face.
But its okay,
My vision is blurry now,
Can hardly see through the tears that filled my swollen eyes.

"What have you done?"
The scream comes from nearby,
Yet feels like it is miles away.
Am I drowning?
No.
I'm sitting in my bedroom floor.
And still everything seems distant.
My lungs are full.
I can not breath.

The broken glass looked tempting.
I did what thought was right.
But theres no time to reassure myself.
More screams, more worries.
The skeleton is still across from me.
I'm giving in.
You won.
#23
Upon returning from Deutsch class,
Where we spoke of Sturm und Drang,
I reminisce about Schiller’s scull in glass
and think it rather wrong.

Maybe it’s just komisch
your best friend stealing your noodle
somehow it makes sense, I wish
a really great poem he did doodle

Schiller and Goethe, the poets
and quite a pair were they!
Even after death we know it,
“Schiller’s” head was on display!

The inspiration knew no bound’ries,
words flowed without a hitch,
like blacksmiths in metal foundries
he truly found his niche

Know nature, life, and death alike
looking in his hollowed out eyes
you never know! Inspiration may strike
n'ere prompt, like lightening, o’re the skies.
"Schillers Schädel" means "Schiller’s skull"–which Goethe (secretly) had people steal 25 or so years after Schiller died, which he kept and displayed in his quarters…talk about friendship! It turns out it wasn’t even his skull! Was ein Pech!! (How’s that for luck??)
Adrian Dec 2017
there's this jellyfish
stuck in my head
he swims there day and night
and lights up the dark
inside of my skull
a bioluminescent, fluorescent jellyfish
swollen and pink
he likes to shock me
lighting up the dark
inside of my skull
he has long, coral tentacles
they squeeze around my brain
and he hugs it
and pretends to be a part of it
I think he gets a little lonely up there
if you ask me
no one to talk to
in the dark inside my skull
there's this poor,
poor jellyfish
stuck in my head
who swims laps around my brain
as though the space in someone's head
could ever be as good as an ocean
perhaps someday I will set him free
perhaps I will crack open my skull
and it will no longer be dark inside of there
pink will spew out
a large mushy brain
with a jellyfish attached
his long, coral tentacles
will claw at the air
like tendrils of bubblegum
until someone brings him to the ocean
where he belongs
there's this jellyfish
stuck in my head
and he's very confused
because my head looks nothing like an ocean
mint Dec 2017
our relationship was notifications
banners I expected daily, without fail
ones that made my heart skip a beat
every single one i counted in my mind
they fell like coins in a jar, the clank- a smile

they morphed over times and months rolled themselves tighter and tighter, crushing us in its grasps

every time i see a notification
it’s not from you
i know
it’s almost never from you
and the coins in the jar have cracked it with each fall
and the shards dig into my heart every time i see
it isn’t you
i don’t know how to stop hoping that you’ll come back to me
that maybe one day i’ll get more notifications and it’ll be from you and-
i’ll smile
smiles seem so foreign to me now
what i do know is that it hurts

every notification that isn’t you is stabbing, twisting
and i turned them all off after I finally swirled into nothing but a cloud of pain
and i played music so loud i hoped it would crack through my skull
and i let myself dance
and forget

so what were we in the end?
us?
just a mass of notifications

how did they string together so well?
how did they fix themselves into a shape that convinced me to fall in love?

and how did they give themselves so much power
that now i feel myself disappearing bit by bit every time i see them

i’ve almost grown afraid of them

notifications
that’s all we were
and they themselves
omens of pain

but maybe that’s all we were too
Hey long distance sucks and she didnt love me enough to stay so i guess i’ll die lmao
Despite countless factorial permutations
and combinations, this cyber surfer
avails two alms
(one from alma mater, thee other

handily gifted from alma papa)
seeking succor asper sum er set Maugham
mull eight mom mee whiz sic cure ring
(via chemotherapy and radiation) human bondage,

boot metastatic carcinoma snatched away
futuristic pharmacological balms
so glad experienced being tethered
in utero umbilical connection
and this brother smothered and overly mothered,

etched bromide, which hankering calms
embryonic sensation this corporeal being lacks
constantly subjected to exams
from hard school of hard knocks

which i bewail sets back and gloms
mine aim to revel in blissful contentment
but circumstances decrees otherwise
cursing this chap tubby haunted

by veritable elfin grotto dwelling phantoms
hovering over sweet clover dials a mirage
yes...iris sieve blurbs from gals and two guys
that span the World Wide Web, and exude

premature ejaculatory ecstasy, puzzled if fie
totally tubularly trod a tedious trek
along the boulevard of broken dreams
what happenstance oft finds thyself to flail
amidst difficulty to maximize

optimal opportunities searching for Holy Grail
or whatever constitutes such lofty
personal objective, perchance being hale
and hearty of body, mind and spirit

spurs the furies of fate tut test this primate
while he aims to gallop with mighty industrial
vim and vigor leaving a virtual soundcloud
of dust, though mindfulness helps
to pass go, and chance avoid jail

time, then maybe monopolized feedback offered
to this toothless mwm quasi-vegetarian
enjoying poetry stone soup, yet also subsisting
on supplementary vitamin packed glue tin free

NON GMO gluten free
fruity tall tales for a male
forty-two years shy
sans Bing a centenarian,
which span of life best cut short with a nail
(possibly nine inches) hammered into
faux coffin, cuz this imp doth turn pale

at the prospect to fill up a space of land
best utilized by birds - such as quail
Mongoose, or ibis (though aye n'er saw
one), where cremated ashes sail

across some verdant plain under
cerulean skies putting to rest every travail
which thoughts of dem eyes spells
relief since homelessness -

therein lied the rub
but dove vine intervention    
cooed not comb sooner
main impetus explaining this rambling spiel

(since completion a moot point
since amazing grace smiled)
the warp and woof ova gauzy veil
imperceptibly looms closer upon
turrets of my digital sea faring gun whale
and thus desperation finds pleading salvation.

(since completion a moot point
since amazing grace smiled)
before mine danse macabre
doppelganger draws dagger

punctured skein tight
as a yank key notched belt
housed within mine impenetrable
hermetically sealed invisible bubble
drapes with blackened

Hades hued habiliment therein dwelt
sinister saboteur mastermind
marauder of Hubble
piercing fiery ocular rift
presence unseen but felt  

demands sacrifice once
into bowels of Hades
force at Devilled Pitchfork
to traverse river Styx
with unadulterated gelt,        
which known phantasmagorical double

diabolical self amidst aftermath
from Armageddon rubble
astride charred global ruins
entire civilization melt
planetary paroxysm

prognosticated by Maya sages
with 11th hour stubble
birthed Darth Vader nemesis  
evil upon earth he did pelt
annihilating mankind,

the derelict species that fueled trouble
hence evil twin appointed
apocalyptic malevolence spelt
desiccation, humiliation, and laceration
  
upon once verdant veldt
with mass crematorium desecration
left horrific blistering welt.
Tan Sichuan Countdown

to Homo sapiens extinction
predicted millenniums in past
to occur December 21
two thousand and twelve

(that date elapsed without incident
but beware unexpected    
cataclysmic circumstance)
after con comma tinted common era,

whereby catastrophic spark
detonating inferno incinerating blast
eradicating extant flora
and fauna bereft sans hegira
with no means to interrupt the die
since the dawn of civilization cast.

Impossible to escape
ominously predetermined quaking
fate of human rat race
nor turn back hands of time

with origin of species on clock face
thus ticking closer to hour of doomsday
without faith to brace
allowing, enabling and
provide Gaia to redeem terrestrial space

vestiges of teeming billions soon graced erased
criminal minds without a trace
forcefully relinquishing simians
planetary stranglehold amazing grace
proffering tabula rasa
for another dominant species
to claim the place.

Sirens promulgate emergency
toward impending inescapable cataclysm,
yet no place to run or hide
lest one boards rocket light-years away,

which makes suspense thrillers
birthed by John Grisham
enviable plot to keep
total Earths’ destruction at bay.

mice elf, a lifetime americaonline
Meme bur hastens to convey dire
crisis sparking
to offer electric nom de plume
Harris40tude a papa who did sire

deux darling daughters,
yet for ages hive stung
with hurt early, whence fatherhood did fire
meow n childhoods' end fostering people

strangers fork get dish
comb bob yule hated communication,
per S0S sprinkled with awe shucks corny,
Egret - letting opportunities
take flight aspire,

now pleasures soft
as gossamer feather bedding
down play hardened
angst riddled psyche, where ire

Ronny gully stubbornly thrives
amidst adversity as father time spins gyre
row scope at greased lightening speed,
intimating with dead reckoning to hire
grim reaper, who whiz patient

as Job, and exemplary at ridding mire
and muck bogs down this dada robbing
existence with joie de vivre, where funeral pyre
doth flickr-beckoning GoDaddy, cuz

Juno I haint gonna hear angelic choir
or equivalent enlightenment re:
home sweet home, this atheist doggedly tire
so haim trying keep sea legs
one step ahead of tipping point
envision self pitched into abyss, thus end of wire.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
now, asper that unwelcome deathly still intruder
tis thee demise of life i.e. known
(among other names) as grim reaper
accompanied by ghost of
John (toot till loo to you) Bankhead Magruder.
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