#arachnids
In shadows deep where darkness hides
There lies a bag of eight-legged horror
A bag of spiders where dread resides
Creeping and crawling, causing sorrow
With nimble legs they dance and sway
Each spins a thread, a delicate art
A web of wonder, they work their way
To weave their silk and do their part
They scuttle and scurry, never at rest
Their beady eyes, like gleaming gems
Silent whispers in a world obsessed
Reflecting secrets, known only to them
Oh, the bag of spiders, a curious sight
But hidden within their fearsome guise
Eliciting shivers, invoking fright
Lies nature’s marvel in miniature size
A bag of spiders, misunderstood
For spiders, in truth, are nature’s aide
Not causing harm, but doing good
Keeping balance, so be not afraid
So let us ponder with open hearts
A bag of spiders, for if you did
You’d see how nature plays her part
And applauds the bag of arachnids
Aug 20, 2023
Aug 20, 2023 at 8:42 PM UTC
The ravaging beasts of the folds of south
Once marred, Yaakov, the man out of them.
For his kinnor sang a thousand vibrant sonnets
And the muttering arachnids of the north
Once defied, Ingrid, the woman out of them.
For her visage was a thousand radiant sunsets
In the midst of the luscious green grasslands
Was their bleak prison of grey, still and stale
In that chasm, she was shrouded from the light
In that chasm, he was girdled taut by that light
Amidst their floundering souls, was an iron veil
‘Twas a bleak wall, seeking his absolution from them
I saw him ‘n her, in dreary and stale, weary and pale
But I felt their hands caressing me, the iron veil
Those ravaging beasts, brutishly, gnawed his fingers off him
In envy, those arachnids ravished her joy and youth from her.
The blood-red moon, wept rivers of lamentations, for him
In shame, the blue sun hid himself in light, far... away from her
Thirsting for his marrow, those beasts, foully, scourged him
In vain, those arachnids gnashed their sickening fangs over her
I stood there, as a frigid shoulder to rest on for them
In pain, I urged the skies, “Strike me down!” for them
As Ingrid searched for him, she held on to me
As Yaakov stumbled for her, he leaned on me
In silence, I heard their hearts pacifying the other
In shame, I saw their voice bleeding for the other
In sorrow, I saw their scars salving together
I saw the locks of her hair, yearning his kiss
I saw his weary spirits yearning her warmth
I saw their cinders yearning to become one.
Despite, me, the unfortunate accursed iron veil
I saw her palms drying Yaakov’s tears away
I saw his arms caressing Ingrid’s fears away
Despite, me, the unfortunate accursed iron veil
I saw the brightest light in their teary smile
I saw my prison, be the Eden for their love
The austere bricks in me have finally seen a crack
I see Yaakov’s Ingrid and Ingrid’s Yaakov beside me
Never had the air smelt sweeter in this grassy sea
I now see a waltz after four scores of… lamenting
I now see a solace from the pounding pulse in me
But for my absolution, I pray “Strike me down!”
Strike me down, O agents of the heavens above
Flood me down, O seas of this broken paradise.
Tear me asunder, O lamenting winds of the sky
Have you, all-righteous hosts gone to slumber?
Why do you hide yourself, the all-righteous sun,
When the filth rejoices, the paradise cries pain?
Ah, Daphne, do you see this unsettling… silence?
Despite my cries to unbind us from our torment?
Behind her wrinkled, pale, cold face was that radiant sun
Behind his tremoring strained voice was that sonnet sung
Unchain my heart and free us I implore you, righteous fires.
Unchain their love, even the distant stars heard their sorrow
Let there never be another harrowing and writhing adagio
Let there never be another Yaakov and Ingrid in torment
Let there never be arachnids, muttering in viscous vanity
Let there never be beasts, lusting their blood and marrow
Set me free, let me return to my eternal slumber in solace
Set us free, Strike me down for their love… my absolution
Oct 17, 2020
Oct 17, 2020 at 3:23 AM UTC
From the vault of my popcorn ceiling
the widow was swaying on a strand
and striking at her master net,
tweaking its barest glint,
all to lure death closer
to steep it in glue
well enough that she can wait now.
,,
It happened in my head
as I listened to her legs
that I would die,
if I could only look down
and find her sneaking in my palm.
,,
I know she is far too beautiful
to be waited on like this,
to be stranded on a string
in the thinned air.
I think I make her miserable.
Dec 10, 2019
Dec 10, 2019 at 9:20 PM UTC
My brain is a graveyard
Where cobwebs collect
Through gyri and sulci
The harvestmen tread
The widows float down
Painted black and red
Armed with venom
And needle and thread
They sing as they spin
A chanty of doubt
Stuffing my skull
Til ghosts leak out
And when they have
All had their say
And my spine grows centipede legs
And crawls away
I sink sink sink
Into the ground
And even the arachnids
Cannot draw me out.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 12:30 AM UTC