#allen
Old proclivities breathing into old predilections
Removing the shadows of aching heart
Old habits forming back like wicked infections
Haunted heads breeding hate in part
Holding onto harrowing hills that dwell within my dreams
You will never find yourself in among the few.
Holding Hope is having heartache dressing up your schemes
If you never build upon it into something new
Dealing with shadowed recesses - lost in my reverie
I had a father once - sisters many - a daughter and my sons
These is my lost Lenore dancing in misery
This is the consolation - prize my heart has won
Sorrows many and fear so deep
That steals me away
Plaguing all I ever loved
Taking my peace to keep
And a nod to my "dad"
That I never really had -
Is all I ever loved - A mere dream within a dream?
Jan 7
Jan 7, 2026 at 4:05 PM UTC
I close my eyes to nothing
A dreary darkness holds me until
I find myself falling into the distance beneath
Falling into the chasms of broken hopes and dreams
Falling into nowhere
Until I have lost touch with reality
Until my whereabouts are disconnected
Torn into shreds of existence, where no one may locate them again
Until I feel that I stop
Stop in the middle still floating into the inky black of the chasms that endeth not
Stopped at the very fabric of a world we live in
Completely stopped
Until I see shapes
Iridescent triangle and out of these mere triangles more come out
Until they become kite shaped
Of the deepest hues of black and white
Circling me surrounding me
Suffocating me
Until they then knock some common sense into me
I float there and realize
Like a stationary doll that has unwinded its troubles into the owner
Like hamster that lay there defenseless from the predator
Useless in all realization
It is then and only then, I find myself what fear really is
It is simple
You are not scared of the dark nor of creepy white being that haunt our lives named ghosts
No, you are not
You are scared of the moment when you realize your fear is there
Living with you, breathing with you
Yes, the moment you realize
That is what you truly fear
That is what I happen so to realize in that very moment
As I lay there floating
Floating in a world of white and black diamonds
Circling you, surrounding you
Suffocating you
Realization lies there waiting for your presence
It lies there stealthily
Biding time as it is
I soon find myself regaining simple cultures of the past that had been taught to me
Began to sit upright, folding my hands in my lap
Staring into the face of precisely what fear accommodates
The thing that has been established by many
But many have gone insane after addressing the true fact of the existence of fear
Though I am not here to tell you the sorrowful tales of such
I am not here to recite the journeys of others
And of those did not go insane at the thought of such revelations
Stand tall in front of it
But they cannot hide it forever
Until they cower back, seemingly shrinking in size
Because no one lives without fear
Therefore no one lives without realization
Therefore no one lives while glaring realization in the eye
Not because of ****** that they cease to live
Realization itself does not admit to killing these innocent beings
No, they **** themselves
They realize their dangerous feat and therefore cannot bear the realization
They have always been frightened of realization
But to realize that one is challenging it
Is the fate of the brave
‘Tis not why here I am
Telling you this tale of valor and possible stupidity
Alas, I’ve strayed off the point
Distracted in perils before us, any of us in fact
As I fixated my eyes on the perfect form of realization I seem to realize what others perished to
They also could have died by the next processes as your brain begins to comprehend
Questions that is
Many, many, many, oh so many questions
Popping into your noggin
Or perhaps your heart
l bet l could find them in your stomach
Everywhere and anywhere, not just your usual questions
But they were different
Very, very different
Not slightly different because l can’t tell if l have made this clear enough
But they are very different
Is this really real, or is it an optical illusion?
Am l living in a hallucination?
Could everything be a figment of my imagination?
Are people really there, or am l mentally ill?
Do I really see things, or could l be imagining them as if l am blind?
Is this really real, or is it an optical illusion?
Questions of the end of the world these are
Namely the last one
“Is this really real, or is it an optical illusion?”
Dec 4, 2025
Dec 4, 2025 at 9:18 PM UTC
My first fantasy was a Vargas print
of a brunette in stockings and a garter belt.
She kept me at attention for a year or two
and I still see her at 72 and miss her.
Pantyhose killed a world of lust.
We hate you Allen E. Gant Sr.
Mar 8, 2025
Mar 8, 2025 at 9:41 PM UTC
On these pages: a story writ.
Not lines of love, near opposite.
With wicked words, bursting seams.
and pictures ripped from horror scenes.
This transcript: tallied tragedy
seemed clear, at first, of trickery
such that I said, with full belief:
“I simply bought a book,
simply bought a simple book
bought a simple book this early morn.”
Nary a choice did I resent
more than my steps up staircase bent.
Had I known what fate was in store,
I would’ve stopped short of the door
and listened to my heart’s retort
turn my back to oaken boards;
neglect to knock, proceed no more.
Alas, the wiser choice did seem
like foreign words I could not read
a weaker foe to curiosity.
Thus on the door, my knocks numbered three.
On portal’s edge, the wait did seem
a lifetime spent, eternity.
Heard racing heart, mistakening
its pounding pulse for echoed feet.
A lock’s release, my wait was for;
an unlatched, oaken, ornate door.
As portal opened to the store,
of echoed feet, I thought no more.
Creaking hinges, a'rust with age
made way for shopkeep's leathered face.
His cobwebbed volumes filled the space
and gave the air a smell and taste.
My steps were slow; I didn’t know
what book, which nook, my search was for.
So I walked the aisles, for a while.
‘Till a hidden book stood out
A hidden nook stood out
A hidden book’s nook stood out.
Into that nook, up to that book
my outstretched arms raised hands that shook.
But now I see that I was blind
to evil glint in shop-keep's eye,
and how my steps had crossed the line,
but like a fool who pays no mind,
I gripped book's spine, as chill gripped mine.
Alas, Where once I felt so free
that “simple” book imprisoned me!
Looking back, it's plain to see:
Text locked the door, and tossed the keys.
On portal’s edge, I sat a spell,
For front my eyes, world turned to hell.
Clocktower bells rang out death knells,
Mixed metaphor with sulphured smells.
A lock released, an op'ning door;
Followed by sounds I can't ignore
As I walked home amid the storm,
of echoed feet, I thought once more.
What harkened there, shadowed so?
It made no noise; I didn't know.
and so my steps fell soft as snow,
heard silence then, and nothing more.
Was it the shopkeep, hidden there?
In darkness deep, 'thought saw his glare
and so I turned, searching, scared.
Nought, I saw, in darkness there
Nought, eyes spied, no shadows spared.
Nought, my cry left my fear bared:
"I face you now, as friend or foe!
Why you hide yours, I do not know."
So still, the shadow stayed its frame..
As if it played a hidden game.
Its outline froze; it seemed so strange,
Besot', I sought the shadow’s name
but to my ears came only rain.
Alas, light passed, lit up the space
where I expected a strange face,
but to my shock, in revealed place
was only water, reflecting face
On puddle’s edge, I searched the grass,
only found water, still as glass
Just as I thought, "This fog won't pass,"
my clouded mind came clear at last.
A calming breeze cleared my mind's haze.
To self, I said, "If blindly brave...
I'll sell tomorrow to yesterday,
risk retrospect of future fate."
Thus I thought a tale would end,
The book, or life? I can't portend.
Post-curse, I'm worse for wear, my friend!
Now words alone don’t serve to mend.
I turned a page into the book,
and as before, my hands, they shook,
The leaves were blank! Was I mistook?
No words were writ, the pages, bare.
No words to read, no lines to share.
No words to see, then one appeared!
A balked belief, before my eyes
That ghost-writ word was leading lines!
and so I read, still scanning script
'scarce skipping stanzas, none I missed.
I turned more pages, teeth a’grit...
Falt’ring, failing to feel my fits.
I couldn’t stop; cease reading it
Alas, time passed, still keeping speed
words filled white pages, enrapt I read
How does this work? What’s it all mean?
Why was the cursive cursing me?
On pages’ end, the words did seem
a lifetime writ, for all to read
Right from the start, text taunted me
divined a doom, a destiny
Its pox perceived, print paper flat
I begged the book to take it back
"Who’s words were those? Who’s fate is that?
Who’s life and death, in white and black?"
Delving deeper desperately
For I felt my future had passed, you see
Living life so longingly
Fearing fated folly, unfortunately.
As I read the book, I took
My final form, ‘spite balance shook.
Lapse living lie; won’t die a crook!
I blinked, unlinked, to weaker chain
I shrinked, to think, of lesser gain
I winked, on brinks, but not insane
So now, my friend, I’ll pen some prose
Dream up new lines; make up new words
Where once I thought that what was writ’
The rise and fall, all of it
Could not be altered, not one bit.
As if in stone, the letters sit!
Lines laying law, commanding it!
But now I face what fate comes forth
Leaving letters forming words with worth
My written rhymes give gallant girth
They sing a ballad; but say one verse.
I put down past, but faced it first
In breaking down, I found what works
I fixed my fate, and shed the curse,
Better for me, but for you, much worse.
The book, this poem share a name.
I thought that fact would make it plain
These wicked words hid horrid hex
now you can’t flee, for you are next!
Dec 21, 2024
Dec 21, 2024 at 8:02 AM UTC
In the garden stir the flowers
That whisper through the trees
A subtle hint of fragrance fading on the breeze
Ripples over pebbles
Gentle rushing of the stream
Is the smile in cool reflection
That of you or Angeline?
In the binding choking clinging ****
Which stops the waters flow
Do you find her auburn tresses
And that face as white as snow
Does she walk beside you?
Like she did so long ago
It was you that drowned her
So only you would know!
Oct 26, 2020
Oct 26, 2020 at 11:49 AM UTC
the
rain
of pain
fell down
again
i feel the same
out in the lane
sent from a place safe
to a place
unknown
unknown i am
to myself
who am i
where am i
i feel unknown and all alone
the raindrops have their friends,
not alone in their despair
i am but a lonely rainbow.
alone
but
glorious
Nov 18, 2019
Nov 18, 2019 at 10:10 PM UTC
I long to write
Beautiful things
Like Shakespeare
And elegant ballgowns
Something with more meaning
Then simply feeling down
I long to write
Of romeo and Juliet
Symbolic and deeper then most see
Oh thou arent very good with writing
I long to write
Like egar allen poe
Or any inspiration i claim to love
But instead i write of the dead things
That roam through my mind stirring
Pound pound pounding
My mind is constantly aching
She's but a young child
Cry cry crying
For attention she seeks but it keeps dying
Plays and music will not be wrote
Of the things i write
For they are not artistic
They are but a jumbled mess
Never knowing where to place
Each
Line or
Stanza
Now I'm rambling
On and on and on
She goes sad and chaotic
Whispering obscenities
And screaming repetitive words and pleas
I adore the poems and songs
That at face value seem
Like they are about love for another
When truly they ring about darkness
Oh sweet child
Your love keeps thy so warm
But it's breaking into a storm
I watch you try to sleep
Why do you weep?
Dost thou not realize thy beauty?
Stab thy heart into shreds
For i cannot breath without the
But i cannot smile when thy fills my blood with led
Sweet little girl
You have made no sense
Get on your knees and repent
For you will never be
Somebody
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 11:01 AM UTC
Lenore, not lost
but only sleeping
sainted, yes
and night comes reaping
radiant with demon's dreaming
tapping, tapping, like before.
Sure, the wind
has caught you from me
dances with you
rare Lenore.
Send this shadow
with it's rapping
send it
flying, from my door.
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 3:03 AM UTC
Beneath the Roses,
Down stairs of bone,
the Twilight has fled,
and I am home
At the Nightclub Carnival,
Six-Six-Six Feet Under,
Morphine Martyrs dance with
******* Thunder
Lost among the Nocturnal Nymphs,
the Wildflower Cannibals eat
Innocence.
Violet Vapors
Scholars of Marijuana
Let's **** the Beatnik Babes
into a different genre.
We are New York Fairies and
their ****** Brothers.
Our hearts play on vinyl,
we're the Devil's lovers.
I've become my own Altar,
for the dead pray to None
Under Ginsberg's Grave,
The Party's just begun.
- M.R
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 2:20 PM UTC
I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me
Cried the bleeding man in his last breath
He voided his bowels
The rigor mortis kicking in
And thus began his journey of death
The funeral was closed casket
There wasn’t much left to show
A poem recited
The priest going on
“Darkness there and nothing more”
The years went by, the man’s legacy forgotten
And so did the memories that once seemed so sweet
That’s how it goes
In this dark twisted world
Please stay tuned for some more Sesame Street
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
What's such a pretty girl doing with a stranger between her thighs and a camera in her face? What demons in her closet has she failed to embrace? What led her to this hallway of ******* that has her life hindered this way? doesn't she know that she's only a phase meant to fade away from the industry she's chosen?
As these thoughts enter my head, my lust always stays frozen. It leaves me wondering where my life is headed, hell, if she ran out of options what the hell is it gonna be like for me? I can't go into the adultery industry, so what will become of me? I hate to say it, but it made me sad laying there with a hand in my pants and my brain in high gear. There are no simple solutions for me in life, and I started to understand that.
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 10:16 PM UTC
I’ve loved your *** since the 11th grade. There were a few years when we went our separate ways, in due time we both knew we should of stayed.. Our lives were in ******* shambles.. Each passing day I would gamble, I’d hope, I’d pray.. Maybe I’ll see him this time, *** would I even say?? Hey love, I’ve missed you... Still remember the day when I first kissed you.
I remember 9/11 was a day of much conflict and disarray
But in Reseda, California, we put the egos, pride and ******** at bay..
Shared our dreams, we talked about life, what it’s like without each other and what it all means.. there’s a fine line between love and hate. there’s no madness without love. I don’t really believe in fate. When it comes to matters of the heart there ain’t much you can say
It’s ok, I wouldn’t have it any other way.. cause you’re my man crush everyday
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 12:39 PM UTC
Work night rumbles in the Dublin 4 palace
Laughing in the stale smell of too much freedom
Whiskey, beer, prosecco make up
A rainbow of mischievous golden hues
Corona that smells like drifting **** clouds
No limes, browning in the red net
In the fridge between pockets of pizza space
No Topshop dresses, flannel shirts, uniforms
But greasy repeal jumpers, palazzo pants, huffing
Rollies on the porch under generous back light
Beside rabbit ornament with human head, crouched
In grass below the shroud of full moon fever.
An ex-rugby lad in a Chance the Rapper cap
Stands in the sunroom eating Chinese
He ordered when he was bored of girls
Changing the song one too many times
Masking the gurgling moka, hidden
To serve coffee at midnight and write bad verse
Before morning dips potato waffles into relish
"Which is just posh ketchup", breakfast
Before leaving dry chunks in the bath for work.
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 1:08 PM UTC
Revolted fading decay
Did pursuade,
Like blood on the shore,
To write with the blackness of my heart
And with hope nevermore
The black ink blooms on paperback,
With the heart that spurts its veins
Accross the page
Growing into its darkness and pains
The white fading,
drimpel, dubbed unpailing
With the words posing as potent but poison
Possesed in perfect form of pretence...
The Words so falsly true...
The words bleeding out, "I love you"
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 5:56 AM UTC
Dead,
the day before yesterday.
Grieved by it, personally,
Reputation: few or no friends
Suggested art - lost its erratic stars
A dreamer! Dwelling in ideal realms
-the brain-
Madness
Melancholy
Indistinct curses with eyes upturned, already ******
Happiness wit hglances introverted, shrouded in gloom,
arms wildly beating spirits - sought to forget
close by,
those glimpses
open to the doom of death
Jan 14, 2018
Jan 14, 2018 at 9:10 PM UTC
In the darkest corner there
Hiding far and near
He hides from
And hide from me
Seeking his one and only Anabell Lee
For a love that's not known
Is secretly shown
He searches, he sees,
His beloved dear Anabell Lee.
He might be young
But youth means nothing to him
For tied is not is tongue
When says 'I love you' to Anabell Lee
The last words he speaks
The Last time he sees
His beloved Anabell Lee
For the time :
One.
Eight.
Four.
Nine.
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 2:41 PM UTC
Oh sweet Edgar Allen Poe.
So many wondrous poems you created.
So many echo gratitude
as they read
to grasp your well penned verse.
But worry not the master writer EA Poe lives,
Yes lives, moving in the shadows of the after life.
He drifts in spirit form behind poets worldwide.
Standing as guide to tweak a scribes words.
He exists still using his souls talents
to anoint the world with his stories.
And for that I the poet laureate is grateful.
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 9:37 AM UTC
To Allen Ginsberg and Frank O’Hara
Come out, ye boys of my literary dream
Frank, stop discussing this Rembrandt painting
Take a good drag like I never did, and come out
Down the street, down the ***** ***** days of madness
Allen, talk some sense into these selfied statuses
Come out, ye boys and talk into the microphone
Loosen your tie, Frank, show us some real art
Lose it on the sidewalk ye boys and let’s break
The rules, the locks, the prisons of the soul
Addictions, fears, anxieties, inanities.
Come out, ye boys and throw some rhymes to us
So we can think about ourselves while worshipping you
So that some people out there can stop whore-shipping
Sending our lukewarm bodies and fluids against the wall
What would you say Frank, of all the Rivers who
Try to reproduce the beauty of the human body on screen
Without the aesthetics, without the knowledge
Of what love means. Garter belts and welts, is that all?
Come out, ye boys and let’s be graphic, let’s be artistic
Teach us how to spread your love your legs and your legacy
Pass on this fearless gait, this adamant will to keep on
Despite the junk of our cities down the ***** ***** streets
Come out ye boys, admirers of poetry and people
Come out under a rainbow or a ring, SM fans or prudes
Let’s march on an on an on down our ***** ***** streets
With ye, boys.
June 21, 2017
Lyon. 10:36 pm.
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 4:42 PM UTC
Sometimes in life we struggle,
Other times we don't, it shows us that we're human.
Coming to the realization that this
Life is our only
One and we should make the best of it.
Struggling is a sign of having a good life.
Everyday is a new day to start anew;
Together we can bring peace to
Others, share the love and bring down the
Hate! We're all in this together
And together is how we can bring
Peace to this world.
People running fast, not enjoying what life
Is about; What's all around us. So stop and
Notice what's around you
Each day, smell the flowers, see the beautiful
Sunrises and sunsets and just know
Someone else may be having a bad day too-You're not alone.
It will get better after the darkness fades!
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 10:24 PM UTC