Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Christened on billiard paper
Lo and fro, oh no
Love comes to the town again
And I am rendered spent
A recalcitrant pen begging,
"God knows when,
He'll hurt my beard, rest me deep under again"

Mother! Mother!
Hear my forlorn screams
They are inauthentic
They yearn to be redeemed

Father, you, sister!
Watch this cold hand
They were born spastic
Neutered with a brand

A brand that loves to burn alone
A brand that seethes, kiss the bone
Take me to a walk in your grove
I couldn't do anything in your cove
Just a lover's weary shove
Until you take me above
There, the night will reign with a shadow
Born to beg
Human touch
Ask of it
Sell myself for it

Inauthentic thrift
Fed winter's coal
Drinking the winter sleet
A conscious envelope

Sympathy divulges vanity
The mind is borne on spines
Beaten backs and chalk lines
The factory smog blanket

The film reel is tainted
Nullified by the future
Blood is upheld through drink
Or the scraps 'neath the kitchen sink

Mistress and minstrel
Colliding in such fashion
The green of grass but the soil
Which accentuates the home

The smoking pipe for the open mind
And love's ill script
Black soot of night, laid on wheat
The farmer's purple grain

The miner earns alone
Derrek Faraday Dec 2018
I've bent my mouth up to my ear
Believing in the stuff belief is made of
Milk replaced by silky biers
Losing my fingers to the Barren Baron Dove

Hurts to admit I'm stealing away
A curly knife held to my ear
Simple, crimpled, waning days
Throw unto the heart of the pier

Lark and tumble
Bark and fumble

Still those tired eyes of dust
I have found the beveled rhythm
Among the pristine clouds of rust,
Entropy's daily rhythm

Wake away the roaring morning
Rising heat in fuchsia dawn
Spend the many days adorning
The beating pulse of the lawn

Stupefied, nullified
Numb and in crumbs
A stump to the vein
A lump of sweetened pain
James Khan Dec 2018
dead-icate yourself to ****'th fitness found in fighting fornication feasting forty-*******-winks...

four effs to full-time Faustian frivolity,
fireplace grateful of Ash like The Dead
won't empty itself by choice alone,

E. T phone home-shopping-channel,
tunnel to the fleur-de-gris-gris gamut of greed like Baron Samedi with a Shabbat cigar,

fat snake coils and a cornucopia of errant enculés,

effyouseekay tell her I want to **** her, will you?
my arm hurts....

salirophilia smells like Chanel on chenille, silk soaked with **** and poverty playing the Queen of Hearts violin,

'dis chord doesn't sound right are you holding Bach?

pizzicato palmistry plucks at the strings of theory, the political pants
containing -ance:


*in that order.

flourish, curtain, no applause-
the audience are deaf and blind.
I liked this stream of consciousness poem so thought I'd repost it.
Apologies if the formatting is asterisk-crazy. It puts font in italics on my device.
Derrek Faraday Dec 2018
Nothing but a forlorn pain
Phantoms of art
Snake charmers
Larva tamers
“Free Me from the sun”

Helicopter steed
Blaring Gjallarhorn
Crystalline ammunition
Shrub-like heads
Civilian militants

Snake charmers, take my hands
Sting them once again
Render me strong and heartless
Tend to my obsidian horn
It grows longer as the sun subsides

Blood on the papers
Christened for television
Whitened crusade
Negotiation for control
Count your blessings

Arm the hangars
Send the reserves
Whip the cavalry
Watch the nation
Watch them bleed again
Derrek Faraday Dec 2018
Before the world calls again
We must make amends with the wind
Look not towards, turn around
Learn to challenge your mound
The world is erupting in earnest
Pearls rim the bulletproof vests
Another bay of mammals
Stripped of their enamel

Watchful eye, clockmaker
***** hands on blood bakers
Stagnant relics of the past
Wailing worms on salted masts
Crowded church, bullet tears
Limping for the flaking fears
Mountains bring a gilded path
For the saints, a shallow bath

Handcuffed legs, boarded hands
Folded on a calm command
Rotting hope, livid arms
For the magnate, no alarm
Bracket helm, grainy green
Swords are drawn on gabardines
No God will eat a tear
And dead they flow, winded pier

Dead they crow, winded pier

Billowed fire, riverside
Cower under thickened hides
Excess arms upon the dock
Sandinista on the rock
Triggers sold in tragedy
Lilting light, youth will cease
Leaders sleep in padded wells
Suffer mother, drink from ****

Here’s the hero, banner flown
Ruby paper, nature grown
Skeptic in the eye of rhye
***** comics sing to die
The site is exiled from the shore
Stricken by a fiery pore
Steel-laced curtains, hesitance
Infidels in happenstance

Here is fortune, there lays war
I have sold a solid car
Husband creaks, mother moans
Children bred to take a bone
With a blonded, slanted eye
Astronauts will learn to fly
All the while, a preacher seeks
A pinstriped caddie and a freak

I am born and I am weak
Derrek Faraday Dec 2018
Walking alongside the horizon
Of the striped tie trees
And living for a trump card
Wasting in patterns of living lard

New melodies that caress me
With colloquialism cascading over the sea
It’s what they’re born to do
Do not add it to your mindstew

Link the speech diligently
Live your dawning belligerently
And don’t run out of too many words
Don’t flutter your mind over spells like a bird

My sweet greatness, give me some bones
Nothing else is holding them still
Would it be trite to watch my tone?
I am as flippant as a burning windmill

Help me here, it’s easy to be a stranger
It’s easy to stay filled
It’s easy to ****

Help me stay deprived
It’s better than needing more to be alive
Derrek Faraday Dec 2018
False- on flying feet
Shawls of holy bleats
Call down his mighty fleet
Callous men of twelve defeats

Truly of the uncaring dawn
Lies the stiff, porcelain doll
Green and red, the pawns of the lawn
Our World-Collective Greenwich Atoll

This nomad collective
A messiah of glass
Aren’t they so selective?
Aren’t the brass so crass?

The caveat of the cavalier:
Gold is so brittle
The loudest ears of golden leers
And how they change so little

The nomad rejective
A Pariah of sand
Aren’t they so reflective
Of once-golden land?

False on flying feet
Tall: the new-world sleet
Call down the mighty fleet
Callous men of greater feats
James Khan Nov 2018
California raisin the roof is on fire and brimstone the crows-nest egg and spoon race inequality street jacket-potato head and shoulders responsibility for two-door Elizabeth-nall Green eggs and ham, shem and the other son of Sam Hill house of card-iac arrested development,

white spirit-us Sancti-mony Monie Status Quo-th the ******* raven lunatic tock-iamada Inquisition Spanish flea-pit and pendulum-bar support network proxy Munchausen's Baron wilderness Bear Grylls sausages on a stick,

Jesus-bekistan and Ollie bush and Blair witch hazel-nut job-centre of the Universe and chapter play-boy wonder Stevie Nicks-amatosis rabbit-foot and mouth ***** transplants versus zombies.
Mental connections misfiring. Nothing more.
Derrek Faraday Nov 2018
Translucent, red traffic light
Belongs so comfortably
No one made a fuss over its colour
Just an instinct for the shade
The perfect pigment
No hustle, no alarm
Being the man who ponders this
Am I not allowed the breeze or the brevity?
Are we blessed to fidget the cigarette?
Cursed to be tense
I imagine a mellow, white man
Prancing on a set of traffic lights
Naturally pristine and silky
He plays in an explorative band
Rock and roll on scalpels
So smooth, that breathing
Not a single itch
I’m going to achieve such a feat
One day
I’ll be a queen *****
Next page