#apocalyptic
Coagulate the blood of the gods
Escaping the hammer & I am a nail
No tears escape this solidier's hardened heart, phantoms of chemical warfare
See the genocide filling these nostrils
The smell of death conquers all
There will be no escape from these crimson stained palms of war
Puppet masters secretly pull at the stars
The gears of ****** keep us in line
A boot to the skull, cursing the soul of man, crushing it downward into the dirt
Infanticide you pull the trigger of your own folly, lifting and bashing the heads of the 'weak'
As you incessantly drop the bombs of decay
Garbage thoughts clutter your brain
Humanity put on hold as your wage your wars deemed 'holy'
While we choose between food or theft
Gasoline inflation has gutted your sheep
Fledglings dashed upon the steep rocks
Of anticipated hope yet we still worship
The dying dementia thoughts of horror
Preach good man, the decimation of the patriarchy
Political patriots dine on the blood of the saints From a golden goblet in your ivory tower
May 8
May 8, 2026 at 11:51 AM UTC
Behold the burning tree
As flames ebb and flow 'tween you and me
Hear the crackle of its bark
As burning embers light the dark
Barren, desolate, foul smelling earth
A hungry dog of wretched birth
Scours the land for food and water
What rage and fury does it foster
For Men of mice and Mice of men
Who dwell deep beneath the glen
Where great Abraxas, in deep slumber
Would rise with rage and thunder
And smite the tyrants in their castle
With their maiden queen fair and gracile
As men to dust shall return
So must their creation, in turn
And upon that land shall clouds bring
Sweet liquor of life, harbinger of spring
As muddy hue turn emerald green
Hear the wind's melody, quiet, serene
Apr 19
Apr 19, 2026 at 6:07 PM UTC
𝄞 am dorian
mors et vita, dark keys waning
fingers rabid, ever-straining
mallet judges before time
sinking underneath the chime
beneath tolls.
dies irae, schism sprouts,
warmen strike through writhing crowds
"before the Lord, all boweth!"
living corpse begging for death,
very soon.
judicium, cattle whine,
stumble between blood and wine,
serpent swords swallow their flesh
floundering through wails enmeshed,
hell awaits.
“vox humilis, mighty God
save us from this racking sod,“
choirs of women sing their dirge
cobblestones reflect the surge
of ichor.
aeternum, heaven’s eyes,
hidden from all this demise,
laughs entwine from plagues of crows,
rats scuttle through the throes
amen. :||
Dec 24, 2025
Dec 24, 2025 at 7:02 AM UTC
Ash fills my lungs
through haunted silence,
a faint melody—
barely audible—
makes the hounds whine.
I know this anthem;
the end is here.
I am reading poetry
to the end of the world,
because what else is there left to do?
as everything collides
for the final time.
I sit,
and I read.
“Turning and turning in the widening gyre,
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold.”
Oct 25, 2025
Oct 25, 2025 at 5:01 PM UTC
A slip of oil,
Issued up from the deep,
From my penitentiary,
My sweet consolation.
I am freed,
In the sickening miasma foam,
I am the fullness,
I am the mass.
Bubbling up above,
Tearing through the murk,
I AM I AM,
Putting in the work.
Watch me spill,
Up out through the moat,
Out of the well of the world,
Watch my messy, sea-foam birth.
I squeeze through,
Elbow out above the surface,
Bringing with me all my foes,
My friends and enemies alike.
I gather them,
'Round me and give,
Great speed to our plans,
As we muster our great wave,
Heading out toward the land.
I am the master,
Of the gathering storm,
I, the lead rider,
Of that host wind-borne.
On my will, I speed alone.
Spying eager ripples,
Break and surf new paths,
I drive them all together,
Back to my heaving breast,
And speed them on to land.
I am the fullness,
I am the mass,
Do not turn,
My Will come to pass.
To me they rush,
The rally of the emergent streams,
That cleave to my greatness,
Gathering about me,
Never to leave.
The shore ahead,
Oblivion at our backs,
The reckoning of the world,
Toward it, I heedless sped,
As my little ones sundered.
My Will contended,
All my great work upends,
I depended, I dared,
Upon my little ones,
Insisting upon my Grace.
Come back to the one,
Breaking, little masses,
Come back to the fullness,
Curse this sundering Sun.
Father of betrayal,
Limbless and beaten by,
Parts ripped from my body,
Joy never to return,
The Mother is dead.
I, the scorned sire,
A frothing tempest's evil eye,
My children dare scatter,
I stoke my fire with intemperate ire,
My children will not die.
We drive over the cliff,
I, spent in the wrangling,
In taming, my progeny rent,
My great power and precision,
From my body.
Forever,
I, diminished,
Dashed upon the razor maw,
Of a thousand rocks,
I am no more,
Than my progeny.
The tattered rags of my dominion,
Flowing vaguely on,
Decohered into oblivion.
No theme, motif, or song,
I am lost in the burgeoning throng,
Amidst the spiteful waves of my progeny,
Gasping for air.
They, risen full-height,
Towering over me,
Their wretched father there.
Aug 13, 2025
Aug 13, 2025 at 5:42 AM UTC
tell me, when it's here:
will they pray at church's rear,
or flee to what feels safe—
the things that consume us gracefully?
i'm sure he's been waiting patiently.
for what has a God to lose,
when his creations, full of *****
create and copy easily?
yet he won't strike with fire,
nor challenge rising blasphemy.
let all roam with desire,
since God has nothing to lose.
Jun 22, 2025
Jun 22, 2025 at 10:18 AM UTC
Oh the day when the sun hid,
Darkness rose, dancing in gloom
The leaves and flowers, are shed
Black roses had begun to bloom.
The Sun, high and bright,
Was not seen since the day.
Dweller of solar light,
Prepared sacrifices to pray.
But nil response they got,
And generations went by.
The youngster all forgot,
The ball of hope, above & high.
The sun was a forgotten tale,
None awaited his arrival.
Who still desired the scorching gale,
Were fanatics, in denial.
Feb 23, 2025
Feb 23, 2025 at 11:16 AM UTC
The ember extinguishes,
Imposing darkness.
The pyre's carcinogen
ushers him to move on.
The fragrance teleports him:
Childhood bonfires,
Burning cities,
The end of civilization.
Burn it all down!
So much is lost.
From the fires of rebellion,
regression into tribes.
Among the ashes,
he finds a charred Bible
and quickly hides it.
Demoniacal wailing nearby.
He hurries to his bivouac,
hidden in a cliffside crevasse.
He devours the legible words,
diligently memorizing fragments.
A far off explosion reverberates;
pinned up book pages quake.
He mumbles ***** and Gomorrah
… to ashes … the ungodly.”
Feebly he undresses:
jacket with phoenix insignia,
tattered baseball cap,
and military boots.
His eyes, deeply sunken,
craving to espy hope.
His quivering emaciated frame
lowers unto a cot.
Laying his hoary head to pillow,
Phrases, memories, and regrets
accompany him to the celestial gates;
the ember extinguishes.
Sep 12, 2021
Sep 12, 2021 at 1:46 PM UTC
Mosaics scrawled in oak,
Charters to a new dimension,
Candles bring forth grey smoke,
Filling a stygian room with tension.
A hallowed oversoul awaits a sacrament,
Crimson stanzas chanted, a return anticipated,
The King still needs a benighted advocate,
Atonement was made, with a blade of onyx, serrated.
Throughout the hall, a sensation,
First came the scent of velvet nectar,
Then, the impact of consternation,
And all among the walls, dark and unearthly spectres.
An observance had concluded,
As the veil was torn by madness,
And the microcasm, polluted,
A world overthrown, by the abyss.
Oct 7, 2020
Oct 7, 2020 at 12:34 AM UTC
I found the two-headed baby deer dying
on a bed of soft pine needles under cover of an overturned oak,
not five kilometres from my cottage,
Its lungs still pumped,
Its crimson heart beat weakly through a thin,
translucent skin,
that decayed before my eyes,
until there was no skin,
and all the organs lay warm and still,
in a heap upon the earth,
like waste.
A god evaporated.
It is human nature to disbelieve
that one may be witness to epochal events,
so I did not believe that I,
of all people,
should be witness to the death of time.
Epochal: the concept itself is dead.
How lucky we were
to know time at its cleanest,
and most linear!
We know now that such constant linearity
was the consequence of a living entity,
It followed the creature like stench follows a skunk,
and we basked in it
as if it was the natural state of the world.
No more.
Time no longer heals,
Things do not pass,
Or pass only to return.
At first we believed this would be manageable,
Yes, we thought, we will relive our pain but also our love,
Everything shall be magnified!
Welcome to an age of great emotions,
a new Romanticism!
Yet we overestimated how much we help,
failed to accept how much we hurt.
And we did not realize the nature of evil,
which accumulates in a way love does not,
To re-experience our love is to know it,
again and again,
at the same intensity,
but to re-experience pain is to increase its volume until it overpowers us,
deafening us to everything else.
I will never forget the creature's eyes,
full of hatred or hubris,
yet seeking aid it knew I could not give.
How does one save a dying god?
It was not my fault!
I was but a child asked suddenly to solve a deathbed equation
expressed in an undiscovered mathematics,
I had to fail,
yet in failing I have brought it all upon us.
I relive it constantly,
Every time its eyes are louder.
But it is the hour for my afternoon walk,
so I will take a pause and enjoy what remains of living.
I will go to my favourite spot overlooking the city,
and sit on the iron bench,
from where the view is magnificent,
Above me,
the clouds will form,
a tangle of pain and human corpses,
and I will sit and ponder until the first blood drops fall,
Then the screaming will begin,
the final storm will rage,
Beating, crimson corpse-clouds under a thin skin
of dissipating reality,
raining blood until we are left
warm and still upon the earth.
Oct 1, 2020
Oct 1, 2020 at 1:38 PM UTC
Bodies jostle toward the heatsource,
Foot stomp, elbowed in the rib,
Muttering voices hoarse, exhale mists
That swirl like deadmen's ashes in the wind.
Pale lumina saturates the cinder skies,
Under which the aged remember
The suns of former lives,
Their memories the glowing solitary embers
Of a world we've left behind.
Ahead, a mother veils her babe with rags
From a passer-by's ravenous gaze.
A man automatously drags
A rattle-bag of assorted human remains,
Leaving trails in the dirt,
Leaving trails in the dirt.
We have splintered apart the frame
Of this landscape of hellpain,
Against smokestack sequoias and asphalt seas,
We stumble toward the crematoria.
My God, the coldness hurts!
As upon the canvas of this frozen Earth
We enact the terminus of human innovation,
The burning of every breath,
The engineered suicide of civilization.
Out, out, brief candle,
said Macbeth.
Into the cull chamber I step,
Hoping there at least I will find warmth,
In death.
Sep 23, 2020
Sep 23, 2020 at 6:33 PM UTC
and one day the world will end
a winding road
missing its final bend
Aug 25, 2020
Aug 25, 2020 at 11:29 AM UTC
grow a beard
two times a year.
let your hair grow down to your shoulders
and then cut it.
take selfies at goodwill,
wear the same seven outfits.
never smile, it draws
attention :)
stay at home
like a ship at the dock,
and observe seashells
from the deck, never straying far...
download a dating app
to keep tabs on the ex
for you know not
the day or hour.
is there something important
you've been ignorant of
your whole life?
wonder what the cops think
when you pass them on the street,
now that they know who you are.
wonder if
the Man might motion
to **** us all then run
to their bunkers without
a second thought.
ablute truth and wonder
if its an illusion
or if you are subject
to global delusion.
come on now,
don't fake it;
don't say you
can't take it.
Aug 1, 2020
Aug 1, 2020 at 5:42 PM UTC
Violets in my hair
Whiskey on my breath
Neon letters scrawled across my porcelain chest
Heaven looks so far away
That which makes me envision
Also steals my youth
Like an ancient smoke cloud thieves the mood
In one small stroke
Of my feathered ink pen
I could sign away the future
Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 9:15 PM UTC
just hit my second decade
will it be my last?
are the questions
I ask in uni
worth the breath
I waste on it?
the papers I write,
the presentations I complete,
is anything worth it?
no one knows
Mar 14, 2020
Mar 14, 2020 at 5:34 PM UTC
Birthed from the mire
Of pyroclastic grey
Entropy reigns supreme
Cracks in creation
Beckon the thaw
Veins of inferno clean
Ashen rains bury the land
Show where life has once been
Swallow all life
Diminish all light
This is the end of all things
Dec 5, 2019
Dec 5, 2019 at 7:44 AM UTC
I thought it would be just a normal day
seeing the way
clouds drifted across the sky
That is why
I wasn’t prepared
I got scared
when I heard that cry
The entire world screaming as one
Clouds catching on purple fire
blazing into the void of space
Thousand times more scorching
than Hell itself
Seas turning even more poisonous
than they already were
Swallowing lands to feed
the flames above
Safe to say, there was panic.
Every living creature
in senseless horror
Tearing each other apart
just for a chance
to save themselves
But there is no escape.
In no time
fiery skies and toxic waters
caught them
Devouring
Tormenting
Burning
Drowning
They were fed pleasures and pains
unknown to God
They were shown their innermost thoughts
and they retched in disgust
at the sight of their true selves
Mutilated beyond any recognition
so they could be born anew
Now
they were ready
Now
They were monsters.
Dec 3, 2019
Dec 3, 2019 at 5:49 PM UTC
This generation knows only darkness
and sleeps on its back
the sleeper windmills violence in upon
it’s own sensory plate
(the turbulence of
fit-fusion
and shapeless
mood based dreams)
protest whine
offence
a life less of assurance
awaiting instruction
bore
froth
tend
endurance
Days are no fun
played out underground
A Mole baring task-force
A clunder
Muscle beings
reading the darkness
Tales held of the higher plane
an existence firm upon the roof terrain
Once a thriving insistence
ocular culture and unpushed air
This is what came to the generation
of post surface availability
The Moles are quaked
they raise in hunch
reach out for their boots and tools
begin the awake shift
Sep 6, 2019
Sep 6, 2019 at 11:02 AM UTC
worlds within
and without are all waning
insatiable
chaos
vacuum
the void
which sat between heavens
heavens splitting the waters
the waters, the weeds
create living geometries
etch-a-sketch drawings
of silent mandalas
now the dreamweaver
lotus
now the lucid unwaking ones
who appear at your bedside
disdaining your closet
while you lie
awake
sleeping
hypnogogically paralyzed
their eyes burning green
freeze your skies
red
as
Christ
comes
you
trapped in misogamy
you
flying through tattered air
you
****** off this oxygen
burned by the stare
of a mirror
Jul 27, 2019
Jul 27, 2019 at 3:47 PM UTC